amil

22 • delulu bout the jackson's • mdni

[amilliongoodfish]

“Wherever you go, in every country. On every continent people yearn and hunger for only one thing; to love and to be loved. Love transcends international boundaries and it heals the wounds of hatred, racial prejudice, bigotry and ignorance. It is the ultimate truth at the heart of all creation.” -MJ

may you rest in eternal peace and light Michael ❤️

[freakinme]

・❥・ 𝒾magining suckin’ michael off for the first time… ❤︎

𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫!𝐞𝐫𝐚 𝐦𝐢𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐞𝐥 𝐣𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝟏𝟖+ sexual contents (sub!mike, switchish!reader, blowjob) nickname usage (tink, mama, baby, beautiful).

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 working michael through his urges was your fixation.

𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞, 𝐫𝐢𝐬é (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶) enjoy this little blurb while i was wine drunk (the best kind of drunk)

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 𝟏.𝟗𝐊

Late at night in Michael’s quiet Hayvenhurst home, the two of you were wide awake with no intention of falling asleep anytime soon. You completely organized his cluttered room with him, finding space for all of his fanmail, posters, drawings, and his own albums. This was something you did with him often, making a part of his room a piece of you—leaving behind clothes and little knickknacks from your own apartment.

Nowadays, it seemed like you were never at your own home—spending every hour with Michael at every waking moment meant that he never had the “time” to pick you up from your apartment, and just insisted that you stay with him all the time so he wouldn’t have to miss you so badly.

You both were completely spent from moving everything around in Michael’s room, and you crashed on the memory foam mattress close to you, falling backwards onto it. Michael watched you do this and chuckled, watching your chest rise up and down from all the heavy breathing you were doing.

“S’ gettin’ late, mama. Can you stay tonight?” Michael asked, the tinge of begging in his voice never failing to convince you to do anything he wanted. It was late though, and the last thing you wanted to do was go back to your apartment and be alone, when you had all the access to another warm body right in front of you.

“I’ll stay, but give me a new shirt to sleep in, Mikey. M’ all hot nd’ sweaty.” You obliged, watching the man go through his drawers to find you a simple tshirt to fall asleep next to him in. He scurried around all his clothes to give you a plain white shirt, and carefully watched you undress.

Your body was something so holy to Michael. Every part of you was treated with such grace when it came to him, and he never missed a spot when he made love to you. Your body was one of the most gorgeous things he’d ever seen, and considering you were his first girlfriend, he knew that he had to treat you to a higher standard than anyone you’d ever been with before.

You took off and discarded your old shirt slowly, pulling the fabric over your head and onto his floor. All that was left were your shorts and bra, and no matter how many times Michael has seen you naked, whenever you stripped in front of him, it still made him extremely nervous.

Your tits were spilling out of your bra as it is, and when you unbuckled the back of it for more comfortability, Michael lost it. You saw him watching you with his bottom lip tucked inside of his mouth, scanning your body with precision. You smiled at him innocently, but it only drove him crazier.

You put the shirt of your head, and tugged your shorts down your legs. Whenever you went to sleep, you never wore much to bed—and it was always like that when you slept over Michael’s house. He liked feeling the warmth of your body, not always sexually either—just the coziness of your figure up against his made him turn off his brain.

You climbed into his bed, and got cozy under his blankets. You tapped the side next to you, signaling that he had no other choice but to come lay his body next to yours, because without him beside you—you would never get any sleep.

He walked over to you slowly, trying to get in bed with the clothes he’s had on all day. “Shirt off, Michael.” You demanded. Even though Michael had his insecurities, you never failed to reassure him of his beauty—and that is the reason he was never scared to show his body around you.

He pulled his shirt over his head, some of his curls frizzing up in the process. He got in bed next to you, but you couldn’t shake the dazed look on his face the entire time you laid next to him.

You rubbed circles on his chest, trying to soothe whatever mess was going on his mind, but nothing to work.

At least that’s what you thought.

Michael was going insane after seeing you half-naked like that earlier. It didn’t matter how many times he’d fucked you into oblivion, the sight of your body made him so erect that it physically hurt. He’d been staring at the ceiling trying to take his mind off of it, but feeling your fingertips rubbing his chest was not helping his case.

“What’s the matter, baby? What’s on your mind?” You questioned, laying turning your body to the side to look at him.

“S’ nothin’, baby… let’s just tryn’ go to sleep.” He nervously chuckled, knowing that he wasn’t fooling you at all, but he had to try.

“Don’t get all quiet on me, honey…c’mon, baby, what do y’ need?” You plead, sitting up against the headboard now. Michael was learning to finally talk to you about everything that was going on with him, but there were times where he’d continue to shut you out, even though that’s not what he intended to do.

He closed his eyes, a little embarrassed that he couldn’t contain himself around you, and even though you always took care of him, you still made him tense. The first time the two of you made love, he completely froze when you spread your legs for him, and it took a minute for you to get him to snap out of it.

“I don’t wanna talk about it, Tink. M’ good… get some rest.” Michael begged.

You started to put two and two together, and based on his reaction, you knew that deep down the problem was that Michael was horny. He hated admitting it, even though in your eyes it was nothing to be embarrassed about—you had no problem letting your beloved boyfriend know when you needed him to handle you. But Michael, he was timid—and getting a confession like that out of him took more than begging him to talk to you about it.

You had to physically get the reaction out of him.

“No, baby… I don’t think you’re good.” You said, seduction laced in your voice. You slowly slid down under his blankets, leaving just enough room for air, and to watch his face as you did what you had to do.

You’d never sucked Michael off before, just because he felt that it would put you in too much of a vulnerable position, but that was the least of your worries. You wanted to please your man in any way that you could, and giving him this would help ease the tension in his mind.

His body was on edge, and as you ran your hands along his waist and down to his boxers, he didn’t say much—he just let you.

“I really wanna suck it, baby. Can I?” You urged, your eyelashes fluttering at the man above you. He looked down at you, and nodded his head.

“Don’t just nod at me, Michael. Use your words, baby, Y’know better.” You begged, running your hands along his bulge.

“Okay, okay… but I wanna see all of you. Not just under these blankets.” Michael asks, his dick twitching at your touch.

“And that means?” You tease, knowing exactly what it meant. Michael wanted another chance to worship you, and seeing your whole body in full view is what gets him there every time.

“Can you get on your knees f’me, mama? Please?” Michael begged, his voice shaking.

You agree, and Michael sits up against the headboard. He turns his body around to sit up straight on the edge of the bed, and you sink to your knees. You thought the process would be more fun if you stripped again, so you deliberately removed his shirt clad to your body, and the bright beams of the moon above cascaded down the arch of your back.

You pulled down Michael’s boxers, and the inches he had on him used to intimidate you. Now, you know exactly how to use all of him to your advantage and his, and every session the two of you had was pure bliss. It was girthy while still maintaining its length, but you were confident that you’d use your mouth to satisfy him.

“M’ nervous, mama. You’ve… you ain’t never done this before—I don’t wanna hurt you.” He says, his eyebrows knitted on his forehead.

“I’ll let y’ know if it’s too much, baby. Relax, and let me do this.” You insisted, taking one of his hands already gripping the sheets into yours.

You started off slow, you slid your hand up and down against his shaft, just to get it going. Then, you kissed his tip, the beautiful brown shade that you adored so much, and all the way down to the bottom of his dick. Michael was so anxious all the time, but you could see in his face that he was enjoying himself.

Michael’s dick stood thick and hard before you, his veined shaft pulsing faintly with anticipation, and the swollen head already glistening with a bead of precum.

“Mm—goodness, girl. Yeah, that…that feels nice.” He admits, his fingers threading into your hair.

This was only the beginning.

You finally put your mouth on him, taking in as much as you could. Your throat felt endless when it came to Michael’s dick, and all of your saliva covering it was turning him on more than ever.

Your hand wrapped around the base, squeezing gently, and you opened your mouth wider. You took him inch by inch, your lips stretching around the girth, tongue pressing flat against the underside as you sank deeper. The wet heat of your mouth enveloped Michael completely, your cheeks hollowing as you sucked.

You bobbed your head with a steady rhythm, taking him to the back of your throat before pulling back with an obscene pop. Your saliva continued to slide down his shaft, dripping down to coat her fingers as you stroked him in time your mouth.

“Oh shit, mama. Feels so good.” Michael moaned, his hips bucking involuntarily as you took him deeper again, relaxing your throat to swallow around the head, the tight constriction making Michael’s eyes roll to the back of his head.

“I knew you’d like it, Michael.” You moaned, and it was absolutely filthy. Your eyes were watering slightly but you never broke contact. You worked him faster now, sucking harder–and your head moved with wet, slurping sounds that filled up his bedroom. You were praying no one heard the two of you–considering how loud Michael’s whimpers and groans got whenever he was close to his climax.

Your lips were swollen and shiny, sliding with ease up and down Michael’s glistening shaft, while you twisted your hand around the base with just the right pressure.

“M’ gettin’ real close, beautiful. Where do y’ want it…?” Michael pleaded with you, because he was throbbing. He was close, every nerve alight. You could feel it in the way he was swelling around your tongue, and getting him like this made your core blaze.

“Back of my throat, baby. Mm–need it.” You teased, a wicked smile in your eyes. You doubled down, starting to suck him relentlessly, your mouth a perfect, velvet vise of heat and friction until Michael’s grip tightened in your hair. He spilled down your throat with a deep, guttural groan, and you swallowed every drop. You milked him through his aftershocks with lazy licks until his body was spent and trembling.

You pulled off with one last kiss to his sensitive tip, and licked your lips as you looked up at him.

“Now you get some rest.”

freakinme ©, all rights reserved! (๑ᵔ⤙ᵔ๑), i hope you enjoyed!

taglist — ⋮ ⌗ ୭ ᵎᵎ 🧁 ┆ @angelcrescent @smoothcriminalgf @kiwikisses20 @savagenctzen @plan3tch1ld @platanita @iluhbiceps @mikesbian @angelofmikes @j3nnyluvscupc4k3s @jackiesbambi

let me know if you’d like to be added or removed from my taglist !

[xwixnk]

Remember that link I showed you of Randy jr shirtless?

How about a fic where the reader works at the front desk at the gym where Randy jr works out at and she has a big crush on him and she accidentally walks in on him shirtless and she gets flustered and embarrassed and apologizes but Randy jr tries to calm her down and asks her out because he already knew about her crush on him

Accidentally

Randy jr x reader

Summary: You work at the front desk of a gym, and always see Randy work out and had a huge crush on. Eventually you walk in on him shirtless.

The morning rush at Gold’s Gym had finally cleared out, leaving the lobby quiet except for the low hum of the juice bar blenders. You sat behind the front desk, resting your chin in your hand as you stared blankly at the computer monitor.

Your eyes kept drifting toward the free weight section. Randy was currently finishing his final set of shoulder presses. You had worked here for three months, and for three months, you had been infatuated with him. He was always polite, flashed you a crooked smile whenever he scanned his membership card, and possessed the kind of physique that made you forget how to speak English.

"Alright, [Name], I'm heading out for lunch," your coworker, Don, said as he grabbed his keys. "Can you do a quick sweep of the locker rooms to make sure the towel bins aren't overflowing?"

"Yeah, no problem," you replied, glad to have a distraction from your intense daydreaming. You grabbed a fresh stack of folded towels and walked down the hallway. The gym was mostly empty at this hour, so you figured the men's locker room would be completely vacant. You didn't hear any running water or movement inside, so you pushed the heavy door open without knocking.

"Hey, sorry to bother, just restocking the-"The words died in your throat. Randy was standing right by the central mirrors. He had just pulled his sweat drenched t-shirt over his head, leaving it draped over his shoulder. His back was toward you, but he instantly spun around at the sound of your voice. His chest and abs glistened slightly under the fluorescent lights.

Your face instantly turned a shade of crimson. The towels slipped from your hands, scattering across the tiled floor ."Oh my gosh! I am so, so sorry!" you squeaked, your voice jumping an octave. You threw your hands over your eyes, backing up so fast your heel hit the doorframe. "I thought everyone was out on the floor! I didn’t mean to-I’m leaving right now!"

A low, amused chuckle echoed through the tiled room. "Hey, hold on. It's totally fine, [Name]. Don't worry about it," Randy said. His voice was calm and unbothered. You kept your eyes glued strictly to the floor, your heart hammering against your ribs. "No, really I'm sorry, Randy. I should have knocked. That was so unprofessional of me."

You bent down to scoop up the dropped towels, wanting nothing more than the floor to open up and swallow you whole. As you gathered the fabric, a pair of clean sneakers appeared in your field of vision. Randy knelt down in front of you, reaching out to grab the remaining towels.

Even with your eyes focused on the floor, you couldn't help but notice his bare, toned chest just inches away from you. "Seriously, take a breath," Randy said gently, handing you the folded cotton. He didn't rush to put his shirt back on, he just looked at you with a smirk playing on his lips. "You don't need to apologize, It's a gym locker room people catch me shirtless all the time."

"Yeah, but I'm staff," you mumbled, staring intensely at his sneakers, your cheeks still burning. "I… I really didn't mean to stare." "Did you mind staring?" he teased softly. Your eyes snapped up to his face in shock. "What? No! I mean-yes? No, I mean I wasn't-"

Randy laughed again, a warm, genuine sound that defused some of your panic. He stood up, offering you a hand to help you up. You took it, his grip firm and warm. "Relax, [Name]," Randy said, leaning back against the sink counter. He crossed his arms over his chest, which only served to emphasize his biceps.

"To be honest, I'm kind of glad you walked in. It saves me from having to awkward talk my way through the front desk later." You blinked, confused. "What do you mean?"

"Don told me," Randy revealed, his smirk widening into a handsome grin. "Well, Don didn't have to say much, every time I scan my card, you look like you're trying to read a foreign language on your screen, and you always give me the extra large locker key." Your jaw dropped. You wanted to murder Don. "He… he told you?"

"He didn't have to. It's pretty obvious you have a little crush on me," Randy said, tilting his head. Before you could spiral into total mortification, his expression softened. "I've been trying to find a good time to tell you that the feeling is completely mutual." You froze, the stack of towels heavy in your arms. "Wait really?"

"Really," Randy said, stepping a bit closer. The scent of his cologne mixed with the clean scent of the gym laundry. "I think you're beautiful, you're always the best part of my workouts. So, how about we make this official? Let me take you out for dinner tonight. Get you away from the front desk for a few hours."

You looked at him, your embarrassment slowly melting away into absolute disbelief and excitement. "Dinner? With you? Even though I just crashed your locker room session?"

"Especially because of that," Randy winked, finally pulling his t-shirt back over his head. "So, what do you say? Tonight at seven?"

A genuine smile broke across your face, the blush finally fading. "Yeah, I would really love that, Randy."

"Cool, I'll write my number on a sticky note when I check out," he said, walking backward toward the showers with a satisfied grin. "See you in a few minutes, [Name]."

Taglist!👾: @primaltomeabomination @erynnnn @midnightparagraphs @heyitsm4di @rgg1115 @4ngelonmars @sxphr2 @skylar-g @luminousshardobelisk @raefoxiegirl @s0uash @kisscoqueen @appleheadsbiggestfan @delictezz @a-motherfcking-fish @animegamerfox @blameditontheboogie @mvkas @mileyispunk @missharper33 @raefoxiegirl

[youluvyanni]

PLEASE KEEP THE RANDY STORIES COMINGGGG

project pink

summary: based off that one clip of the kardashians when kourtney and travis are trying for a baby and khloe waited for them to finish

notes: he’s so fine in this pic bro

“you look more refreshed and bright than usual” jaafar said “aren’t you and y/n trying for a baby” jermajesty said with a grin

Randy Jr. slowly looked up from his laptop before immediately looking back down, his ears turning pink

“y’all must be going at it like rabbits” Jermajesty said laughing “ew man i don’t wanna think about that” Jaafar said

“unfortunately he’s right” Randy said and let out a sigh

Jermajesty leaned back with a grin. “project pink??”

Randy sighed dramatically “she’s determined” “determined as in??” Jaafar asked

Randy glanced toward the hallway before lowering his voice “we already have the twins but she wants a girl so bad” he looked around and then whispered “we’re doing it three times a day THREE i’m genuinely terrified she’s gonna walk in here right now and ask for it” he confessed

“three times..” said jaafar “she must want that girl bad” jermajesty said cracking up

“i swear to god it’s been worse since shes ovula-” “RANDYYYYY” your voice echoed down the hallway, cutting him off mid sentence. Randy froze like a deer in headlights

you poked your head in the living room and smiled “hi jaafar, hi jermajesty can i borrow him for 20 minutes” and said pointing at randy “i’ll bring him back i swear”

Jaafar and Jermajesty slowly turned to look at Randy, he let out the longest sigh imaginable as he stood “told you” he muttered standing up, and dragged his feet over to you with his head hung low

before he could even cross the threshold, you grabbed him firmly by the collar and yanked him down the hall

Jaafar stared at the empty doorway, then slowly turned to his brother “are we seriously about to just sit here and wait for them to finish?”

Jermajesty pulled out his phone and leaned back into the couch “i mean i guess so…she said she’d bring him back”

an hour later…

both brothers looked up as Randy stumbled into the room

Randy shuffled back into the living room looking like he’d just run a marathon. his hoodie was slightly crooked, his hair was a mess, and he let out the deepest sigh known to mankind before practically collapsing onto the couch

Jaafar slowly looked up from his phone “…you good?” Randy stared blankly at the ceiling “no”

Jermajesty checked his watch “twenty minutes, huh?”

Randy didn't even lift his head “she... she tracked her peak” he mumbled, his voice entirely drained of life “it was a trap”

“bro, you look like a dried up raisin” Jaafar said, staring at him in genuine concern “do you need some water? a paramedic?”

“i need a nap” Randy croaked, finally rolling onto his side “and a fake identity cause if she finds out I survived this round, she’s gonna check her tracking app again in four hours”

tags 🏷️ @unseenleylinesecret @vict-oryy @hip-hop-star-4 @blkkbratt @pinkjollyrancher54 @dollthoughtz @commaanders @anglfac @doleuia @missharper33 @siighrns @jermajestysbaby @enzo6ekiiii @nvhdesire @niyahctrl @mikaylajacksonnn @callmelyriic @sintizc @humannaturess @whyxo @heartstofiiveunknownn @sayyoulovemeziya @sqrixm @mikedotorg @mikedotorg @kissmyglxck @fullofmelaninsarcasmandepression

[yearlyjams]

love is a house you got the key

summary. after the birth of his third child, michael seeks much needed help as a single father. never anticipating the tension filled relationship with his employee.

❛ mature!michael jackson　𝑥　𝒻 nanny!reader ❜     ╱    𝓶 .list 𓂋 all my readers are intended to be black and or women of color , nanny is no exception . fluff . comedy . domestic life . age gap ( michael is 43 & reader is 26 ) . slow burn . angst . obsessive!michael . eventual smut . additional tags will be added to each work posted . ℘ O.000k

𝓻𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬⠀ ⠀𝐚𝐫𝐞⠀ ⠀𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝⠀!

introduction to . . . nanny!reader

୭˚. FICS

nothing to see yet !

୭˚. HEADCANONS

( domestic bliss )

୭˚. DRABBLES

august 2002 : michael wants to make you a mother

୭˚. BLURBS

april - june 2002 : the beginning of nanny & michael

september 2002 : michael may be obsessed with your hips

november 2002 : michael thinks you should move in

december 2002 : baby fever season

february 2003 : & when you do move in ?

୭˚. MEDIA

nothing to see yet !

© yearlyjams , 2026

⠀⠀ 𝒾.⠀ 𓂅 ⠀·⠀⠀⠀　𝒕𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ⠀ : @ebvnydesires @cherisboring @smoothcriminalgf @princesspluuto @curlypytclubx @tinydreamerpillar @thelittletobsterthatcould @itsnaikou @mikedotorg @sugacor3 @blkkbratt @dottedseven @kitten-bell @looenx @siighrns @watamotee33 @ifthistown @king-mila @loveposiie @ghazalbambi @angelxcs @kynswrldd @a-motherfcking-fish @rebelatbay @natishaqueen @expiredcandies @mattbymills @cnck1nk @ilovemonk @sudupp 𐔌 to be added to the taglist , comment under this post or fill up the form ꒱

[xwixnk]

Cute

Jaafar x Shy! reader

Summary: Jaafar finds it cute when you get nervous after a make out and teases you.

After every make out, you always seem to forget how to function.

You sit there all quiet, blinking like your brain hasn’t caught up with what just happened, fingers fiddling with your sleeve, trying so hard to act normal and failing in the cutest way possible.

Jaafar notices every time "You okay over there angel?" he teases, leaning in just enough that you can feel his presence again.

"I'm fine," you mumbled way too fast. That response earned a low laugh from him “That was the least convincing ‘fine’ I’ve ever heard.”

You finally look at him, cheeks warm. “Stop looking at me like that.” “Like what?” he asks, already smiling like he knows. “Like you’re enjoying this.”

He hums, pretending to think about it. “Maybe I am.” That makes you go even quieter, eyes dropping immediately and that’s exactly what he was waiting for.

“Aw,” he says softly, brushing his thumb along your jaw like it’s second nature. “There she goes again. My pretty girl getting all shy on me.”

“I’m not shy,” you insist, even though your voice gives you away. He leans closer, grinning. “Yeah? Then look at me."

You don't. He grins and lets out a little chuckle. “Yeah… that’s what I thought."

[fangirlbot]

request by @sweetbabymj : “i need a thriller era michael who likes to fuck in the presence of other people, i’m thinking in the hayvenhurst pool maybe.”

cw: smut mdni, exhibitionism, p in v, mentions of getting caught, nasty & dirty because they’re literally fucking in a pool, jackson siblings present (except janet because she was around 16 at this time) || so sorry for not writing for awhile but i wanna make sure i give y’all my best work so bare with me please ❤︎⁠

“michael, you’ve got to be kidding me,” you whispered to your boyfriend who gripped your waist and pulled your body flush against his. you immediately felt his hard cock push against your backside. “not right here!” you said, panicked. the two of you were in the cool water of his swimming pool, a contrast from the heat of the warm sun on your skin. michael’s brothers and sisters were enjoying the weather outside too. rebbie and latoya were talking and sitting comfortably on pool chairs, saving a spot for you. the rest of his brothers were scattered, marlon, randy & jermaine splashing each other with water on the opposite side of the pool while tito and jackie laughed loudly among the group. if you weren’t being pressed against michael’s throbbing bulge, this scene would’ve seemed sweet.

“you just look too good right now, baby. y’know i love how you look in this,” michael hooked a finger under the strap of your polka-dotted swimsuit before snapping it on your shoulder. he watched as you gasped and took that as an opportunity to press his lips to yours, kissing you heavily. you broke the kiss as quickly as you could, eyes darting to his siblings, who didn’t seem to bat an eye. “‘s okay, no one’s looking,” he assured, already grinding himself over you, “trust me?” michael slid a large hand up to squeeze your hip. you took one last look at his family, all caught up in themselves. they really did look like they wouldn’t notice… which is why you answered, “yeah, ‘course i do.”

michael easily fixed you into a position that seemed casual enough. your body was facing him, but he left enough space between your upper bodies so it looked like you could’ve been just talking to him. “hey, pretty girl.” he grinned when his dark eyes locked onto yours. you brushed some of his wet curls from his face. “hi,” you whispered back with a small smile. michael shifted the bottom of your swimsuit aside before pushing into your cunt with a quieted groan. you whined at the stretch of him, hands coming up to grip his shoulders. “oh michael—” you moaned before he shushed you, “i know, i know, shit. squeezin’ me so tight already.” the water swished around your bodies as he fucked in and out of you slowly as to not make any louder sounds.

michael bit his bottom lip as his grip tightened around your waist, still fucking you torturously slow. he watched the way your body squirmed with each thrust. he watched your brows knit together as you struggled to keep quiet, heart racing at the thought of being caught like this. “hah.. stop starin’ at me, will you?” you whined jokingly, but could barely even speak without moaning out loud. michael chuckled softly. “sorry baby. you’re just so pretty,” he whispered into your neck and you clenched around him. “always look so pretty. love watchin’ you take this dick inside you,” he said under his breath. hearing dirty words in his sweet, soft voice always drove you crazy. “yeah—yes, gonna cum soon mikey,” you told him, voice light and airy.

“fuck, baby i know,” he panted, hips speeding up as much as the water would let him, “me too. cum with me, lemme feel you gushing on me.” with that, your orgasm crashed over you, and you would’ve screamed if michael didn’t kiss you in time. he groaned low as his tongue ran over yours while he fucked his cum deeper and deeper inside of you, until you were clutching onto him.

he pulled away from your lips, leaving both of you breathless. “i can’t believe we just did that,” you told him, looking around to ensure his siblings were still occupied. just then you heard randy’s voice yell, “aye, mike! the hell y’all doing over there?” marlon continued, “yeah! why don’t y’stop acting like strangers and come hang out with us?” by now, rebbie sat up to see why her brothers were shouting across the pool. you saw latoya shaking her head at you with a sarcastic look that made you stifle a laugh. you and michael giggled to yourselves, thanking god that hopefully no one knew what you both just did.

[invinor]

BIRTHDAY WISH

f!reader (first gf reader) / off the wall michael

(lowercase INTENDED!) & not proofread ! 18+, whiny michael, begging, oral fixation, thigh humping, making a “wish” ON him (you’ll see)

preview: michael loves pleasing you. actually he was obsessed as he never wants to stop or let go of that sweet body of yours—especially when it means making it sweeter on your birthday.

A/N: lil something since i had an actual vivid vision of this shi and immediately ran to my phone 😭😭 hope you guys enjoy amores míos , more birthday related posts leading up to my actual birthday coming soonnn !!

🏷️: @siighrns @cinnamoncunt @chmpngekisses @thatgurlmiso @syrraj @gingerrsnapp @tenderlyboundlessparagon @khxna @anglfac @neverstreett @bambijackson

although michael portrayed himself to be the shy sweet boy from gary, you and him both knew what the reality of it all was.

michael was a freak.

and lord did you know how much it made you both insane—specifically michael himself. so when the idea of birthday gifts to give you had come up he knew what to do.

treat you all day and all fucking night.

at first it was the gifts. the way you open your eyes morning of with gifts scattered across the floor, the sight of a smiling and happy michael in the corner as he watched you unravel each and every one. soon after came breakfast. home cooked breakfast that he had done just for you after telling him how much you adored him cooking without any services helping him, letting the day flourish beautifully just as he had planned.

whatever you wanted you would get.

and that also meant using him just as you pleased.

the sound of your soft skin slapping against michael’s thigh a bit as your legs push themselves over each side to lay your pussy directly over his leg. the feeling of your clit rubbing against the skin as michael lifts his palms over your hips to sturdy you on him. “michael mmngh this i-is—“ michael shushes you with his finger over your lips before letting you open your mouth to circle his digit over your tongue.

the warm feeling of your tongue swirling over his index as you close your lips over him, the feeling driving you insane from head to toe as you quiet down with the sucking and swirling of your tongue over his finger. at the sight, michael furrows his brows soon feeling the bottom of his lip tug a bit between his teeth at the growing sensation of his bulge under his pants.

“sshit mama you lookin’ so pretty like that f’me.” michael mutters with an exasperated breath as you flutter your eyes a bit open while now moving your hips in an upwards motion. michael’s thigh coming perfectly in contact with your bare cunt as your clit rubs against the material of his pants.

you tried vocalizing your satisfaction but fail completely at your shuddered movements over him and your moans echoing throughout—finger still in your mouth. “don’t have to say anything baby jus’ please yourself on me.”

“michael-“

michael lets his free hand grip over your hip tighter to guide you more on humping his thigh. the current need spiraling over you as you let loose fully. “happy birthday beautiful.” his lips come in contact with the corner of your mouth before slipping his finger away, the emptiness in your mouth making you whimper as you continue your quick movements over his leg.

michael pushes and pulls with each movement as he moans feeling your now soaking core slightly come in contact with his bulge. “so fucking wet for me look at that mama” michael coos letting your eyes draw down to the wet patch growing over him.

“m-more baby please i need—“ your coherent words slipping away as you continue your movements, slowly getting sloppy as your throat dries down at the desperate need to feel michael even more. “what does my baby want hm?”

your lips part with a sudden little cry as you stop your humping. before you could say anything, you push yourself back to let your palms display across the floor. once your back is pushed you slowly part your legs even more to let michael see the dripping mess of your arousal slowly spread through your inner thighs and warm core.

at the sight of michael murmuring profanities under his breath and shutting his eyes momentarily, you watch as he slips a finger close to your cunt. the tip dragging gently across the wetness before dipping slowly over your clit.

“like that pretty?” your silence only intensified as michael presses two more fingers over your swollen bud, now driving a gasp to release from you and your eyes to roll back at the feeling. “jus’…y-yeah like that.” michael grins at the way you could barely even process your words and the way your legs continue to subconsciously open wider for him to look at.

he loses himself at the sight and sounds of you as he slowly lets his fingers circle your hole and enter with a whine leaving your lips. “michael fuck that’s—“ your hair sprawling over your now sticky and hot back as you draw your hips upwards to let his finger slip deeper; hitting your spot perfectly.

michael’s slender fingers now fucking you so good as you continue riding his digits, the curl of his fingers making him bite his lip seeing you numb and needy from the pleasure. eyes shut, hair all over, and mouth wide as you let a lil drool slip away at the feeling. everything only making michael more proud at how good you’re pleasing yourself and how good your day has been because of him so far.

with repeated movements and direct hits towards your sensitive spot, you grip michael’s ankle from behind as michael continues using his fingers to please you. your pretty pussy on full display as michael now drops his other hand to palm his cock from below.

at the sight, you moan loudly with a slight whine before feeling your legs slowly start to give out. “michael i’m ‘bout to cum i—“ michael’s fingers now speed up as his palm now grips his zipper and zips it down to free himself, now erect and desperate.

the sight of michael’s head crimson red and leaky with pre-cum as you shudder soon closing your legs and failing as michael snaps them back open. “ah ah baby lemme see that cum leak out of you mama” at his words you finally give out after so long. your legs forced wide as michael watches you moan out your release.

pussy soaked and leaky as your cum slowly trickled down your entrance, whiteness coating your glistening core as michael lets his hand wrap now around the base of his cock. your chest heaving rapidly at the feeling as michael smiles soon leaning forward to get closer towards your now flushed and sweaty face.

“that’s my girl.” with a soft lipped kiss placing over your mouth, a little moan escaping him at his hand still forced over his hard cock. once michael pulls back, your eyes drag down towards his erectness before grinning at him and closing your legs as best as you could yet failing at how sensitive you were.

the tingling sensation growing between your legs again as you let the wetness slick even more in your inner thighs. with your legs now closed again and you trying to recover more consciousness, you drag your finger over michael’s own before lifting it upwards towards the tip of his head.

little sliver of cum pulling away from your finger as michael hisses at the sight and feeling of your soft touch over him. “best birthday ever.” at your words michael smiles trying so hard not to release over himself already before looking into your eyes. a hint of mystery lingering in them as his head leans back and over the wall behind him.

“anything for you mama you know this.” your eyes flutter beautifully at him before gripping him fully and letting him breath out a small moan. “but…”

“but?” michael tried to respond but fails at the incoherent mutters while beginning to subconsciously hump in your hand upwards automatically. “i didn’t get to make my birthday wish.” at your words, michael now watches you entirely before seeing you lower your head down towards the head of his leaky cock.

for a split second you both get quiet before feeling his chest tighten as he stared at you kissing his tip. giving it a long, loving, and slow lick, and soon closing your eyes with your hand and mouth near his head.

“baby what—“

michael stops as he groans at you “thanking” him under your breath and sucking the tip quickly with a ‘pop’ escaping from the release. he shudders at the sudden act before you lick the tip once more, tasting the few drops of cum slowly leaking out.

“had to make my birthday wish.” at your words he realizes what you meant before feeling his heart beat rapidly against his chest. you had just wished upon a “candle” your birthday wish of the year. “may i know what the wish was?” he asks before you tauntingly shake your head and let your lips kiss the side of his length slowly.

“only for me to know.”

“and for you to fully feel.” and with that you slowly prop yourself up better and sink your mouth fully over his length, taking in every inch of michael’s thick cock in your warm and wet mouth.

happy birthday to you indeed.

[mikesbian]

SHAVED ICE — Michael Jackson x Black F. Reader

— SUMMARY: Michael drags you from your home to go on a date hangout at the beach and get snow cones.

— WARNINGS: fluff, crack, “just friends”, mutual pinning, cursing, heavy tension, jokes of violence, reader is a shameless flirt & won’t make a real move, mike calls reader ‘bubble’, reader calls michael ‘bugs’ and ‘babe’, suggestive dialogue (talks about virginity), not proofread!

— WC: 3.5k

— A/N: Kinda think we’re at all in need of some good ol’ fluff recently, so here’s something quick! <3

Although this piece is teen friendly, if you are under the age of 18, please do not click on my account, as it contains adult themes.

“C’mon, girl! By the time we make it, there’s gonna be a crowd!”

Michael was damn near gonna break down your front door with the force he was putting into each slam of his fist.

He called you less than an hour ago to “give you time” to get ready. Late last night, while he was walking his pets through his ridiculously safe neighborhood, he caught sight of a littered flyer floating about on the asphalt, and picked it up to throw it in the nearest trash bin. As he walked toward the bin, he read the bold font announcing that a new snow-cone truck would be parked a few blocks from your home, by the private beach, and he got unnecessarily giddy at the idea of having an excuse to hangout with you alone—not that he ever really needed one. He set his alarm clock and everything, making sure to factor in time for himself to get ready and extra time for you because you took forever to get out of bed. Plus, he knew you’d kill him if he didn’t wake you up for it, although hearing how you trudged down the stairs, you seemed like you were gonna kill him right now…

The sound of your screen door hitting the wall and the jolt of the wooden door in front of it unlocking made his stomach flip. You swung it open with a surprising amount of force while he was mid-knock.

“That’s if we even make it. I almost fell down the stairs tryna hurry to get you to stop poundin’ on it. You’re gonna scare the neighbor’s dog!” you scolded him without any real conviction in your voice. You looked just as happy to see him as he was to see you.

“Aw, c’mere bubble. Don’t be like that,” he fake cooed at you, reaching for your hand to lead you down the porch steps as you locked up. As you neared the concrete at the foot of them, he pulled you into a very friendly hug—one that looked like a couple reuniting after some time away rather than a pair of just friends getting ready to go on a walk. He leaned away and cleared his throat after the embrace started to make him want to plant a kis—

“S-so it’s seven blocks away. You sure you don’t wanna bring your bike? I’ll ride on the back,” he suggested awkwardly.

“As much of an ego-booster it would be to have your tall ass crouched over ‘n holdin’ my waist for dear life, I’m fine with walkin’. The weather today is perfect,” you replied softly as you tugged him down your path.

It truly was. A clear, sunny, and breezy 77° California afternoon—the coolest of the month. The sun shone with all its passion as the wind tickled your arm hairs in the most delicate attempt at soothing from the heat, and it was perfect. You could hear seagulls squawking in the distance at the small beach nearby.

Michael swung your still connected arms as the two of you strolled at your set pace. Truth is, he was never rushing you to get there. He was rushing you so he could see you. He smiled to himself at the thought of him struggling to accommodate his height to your vehicle. Every time you two rode together, you insisted on being in control, and one pout on your lips was enough to make him give in. It made for some embarrassing falls on his part.

“What?” you asked, slowing down your pace. He hadn’t realized he subconsciously turned to look at you through his dazed thoughts and was openly smiling at you.

“You’re just…funny,” he said. It wasn’t really a lie—he was finding humor in the way you had him wrapped around his finger without even trying. He just wasn’t sure he should explain all of his thoughts…But why not? You’re just friends.

“Maybe the heat’s finally gettin’ to you. Let’s hurry it up, pretty boy,” you responded, turning away to conceal the shy smile threatening to dawn across your face. The way he was looking at you made you anxious.

“Hey, slow down! You’re gonna twist your ankle on this sidewalk,” he complained as he narrowly dodged the toe of his shoe from catching between a slab of raised concrete.

“Nuh-uh. You were the one rushin’ me to go, so we’re going.” You rolled your eyes with a hint of affection behind them, thankful your face wasn’t visible to him.

The rest of the walk was relatively quiet, save for a few comments on the aromatic citrus trees, Michael’s fun facts about little critters on the pathway, and you feeding him another compliment on his looks.

You could sense him getting a little tensed up as you neared the stand. A few people had gathered in line, and although he wasn’t cocky about it, he knew he could be easily recognized. You traced your thumb along the back of his hand in an act of comfort, letting him know you were still there.

“Mike, it’s okay. Hey, c’mere,” you paused your walking and stood square in front of him, reaching your free hand out to rub at his arm. “If this is too much, I’m perfectly fine grabbing yours for you ‘n we can book it back to my place. Here, take my sunglasses.” You reached into the neck of your shirt and unfolded the cherry red glasses you brought to shield your eyes from the sunlight, knowing he would feel better with something to protect his eyes. As you placed them on his nose, you wondered silently why he hadn’t brought his own.

“Thank you. But it’s okay, really. We’re still super early, I just didn’t expect anyone to already be here. I really do wanna enjoy the day with you,” he protested.

“Alright, but you tell me if you get even the tiniest bit uncomfortable, understand? I’d hang out with you in the men’s restroom if that meant you were havin’ fun,” you joked to him, sliding your hand up his arm to cup his jaw, fixing him to look you in the eyes.

“Yes, I promise,” he squeaked out, flustered and fighting the urge to lean in and kis—

“Good. Now c’mon, babe. I’m hot,” you complained as you closed the distance between you two and the tiny group at the snow-cone stand.

It was a group of little kids—3 girls, 1 boy—and they thankfully hadn’t seemed to recognize Michael one bit. They were pretty young after all, the oldest being no more than 6, and you could see their parents—who you were convinced would’ve made a scene if Michael hadn’t had your glasses on—watching them from a distance, waving their arms to signal them to hurry up.

The little boy accidentally stepped on Michael’s shoe as he was preparing to run back to his family, and he apologized in the sweetest voice you’d ever heard.

“Aw, it’s okay, Applehead. That new spot just made my shoes look cooler, don’t ya think?” Michael amended as he saw that the boy was about to cry. The kid didn’t say anything and just continued running away, pleased enough that Michael at least wasn’t upset.

“Hey, lovebirds! What can I get for you two today? I’ve got a couple’s piña colada specialty that’s really popular right n—”

“Sorry to interrupt, but we’re just friends!” Michael said sheepishly before the vendor could unintentionally make things more awkward.

Right, you were just friends. You knew this, but hearing him dismiss the man like that felt so personal in a way you couldn’t explain.

“Oh, I do apologize! You two were holdin’ hands like one, I thought— Well that’s none of my business. What can we get started today?” he asked with a shake of his head and blush crawling up his neck.

Neither of you had realized your hands were still interlocked, and you both simultaneously dropped your own at your sides with an embarrassingly audible slap! to the thigh.

“I’ll do the Rainbow Sunset,” you responded calmly, biting the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing out of embarrassment.

“I’ll take what the lady’s gettin’,” Michael responded soon after.

Something about the way he referred to you as a lady…He sees you as a lady? Not just a girl or just his friend, but a lady? You didn’t realize the vendor was speaking to you until Michael nudged you with his shoulder.

“Do you want it or no?” he asked, sounding like it was his fifth time doing so. It probably was.

“Want what?” you replied with a bewildered look on your face.

“Coconut cream. It makes the shaved ice a bit creamier and sweeter. Most of my customers get it on this flavor,” the vendor responded with a patient smile. You nodded a yes as Michael took his wallet from your purse and overpaid the man, insisting on him keeping the change.

As you dispersed from the area with your sweet treats in hand, the man caught your eye and gave you a loaded wink, jutting his head toward Michael. Whatever that meant.

Michael, being oh-so attentive, noticed you were rubbing the shoulder you had your purse rested on, and slid it off absentmindedly, placing it on his own. It’s like he was determined to kill you with his cuteness.

“You look sexier in that purse than I do. I should let you keep it,” you teased, giving him a wink as you two sat down on your favorite bench away from prying eyes. He just laughed and rubbed your sore shoulder briefly before turning his focus on the frozen treat in his hand.

You took a bite of yours first, something of an unspoken rule for the two of you. Each time you ate or drank something when you hung out, you would alternate who tried their delicacy first. If there was something either one of you was particularly excited to try, that person would try first as well, even if they tried first last time.

“Michael this is really fucking good. Woah.” You groaned and made a stank face—your telltale sign of enjoyment—and motioned for him to try his. He chuckled loudly and obliged, then his eyes widened.

“I thought you were bein’ dramatic— Ow!” You slapped him on his arm very lightly for the ‘dramatic’ comment.

He went in for a second scoop and he seemed to enjoy that one more than the last.

“Wait, lemme try yours,” you quipped, reaching your spoon over to his cup, making a beeline for the area he was going to scoop up next.

“C’mon bubble, you have your own! It’s the same thing!” he complained as you persisted.

“No, it’s not. He definitely added more cream to yours!” you muttered with fake annoyance etched into your voice.

If anyone were to somehow find this spot and see the two of you in it, they’d be fully convinced you were a longtime couple who never seemed to leave the honeymoon phase.

From the outside looking in, although Michael was ‘fighting’ back, he didn’t actually want to win. He was hardly even moving his cup from your reach, which he easily could’ve if he moved it to his other hand and stretched his unnecessarily long arm into the air. The look he was giving you? Pure adoration. His eyes sparkled at the sight of you, as if every star in the galaxy was hand placed into his deep brown eyes.

You weren’t really that subtle about the way you were ‘fighting’, either. Because of how flimsy he was being, you could’ve easily snatched his cup right up and owned him then and there, but you were enjoying the fact that each stretch of your arm and torso invited his body heat and the scent of his perfume in your nose. That, and you could see his dazzling smile from the corner of your eye.

It seemed like even the seagulls could sense it, as about four of them crowded together and just…watched. The entirety of the beach seemed to bend around your stolen moment together. The waves stopped crashing and eased into soft laps against the sandy shore. Families pulled out of the parking lot and left silence in their wake. The wind even blew in your direction, unintentionally causing your fluffy hair to graze across Michael’s face in the process. You lifted the sunglasses from the bridge of his nose to rest at the crown of his head, revealing his eyes. He froze completely, eyes bulging and mouth agape, and you launch your spoon into his cup.

“Hey there, handsome. I win,” you announced smugly. You tasted his shaved ice and sure enough, he had significantly more coconut cream. “Ugh, I told you! You had more,” you pouted dramatically, retracing your spoon and getting ready to devour yours.

You looked up at Michael, realizing he just kinda…sat there, without a word. That seemed to snap him back.

“Let’s do half and half?” he suggested.

This was another one of your little quirks the two of you came up with. If one of you liked something of the other’s more, you’d split each of your respective items equally, that way both parties are equally satisfied.

“YAY! Thank you, bugs!” you squealed excitedly. Yes, it was actually that serious to you.

The two of you ate your shares of the snow cones and then swapped, watching the ocean in a comfortable silence. Neither of you could pinpoint when, but since you were sitting under a tree, shaded from the sun and closer to the water, the chill from the wind made your bare arms cold, and the two of you mindlessly gravitated towards one another for warmth. You could even feel your head willing itself to rest on his shoulder once you finished the remains of your shaved ice.

“Y’know, I really appreciate this,” Michael spoke suddenly, his soft voice cracking the silence.

“Hm? The shaved ice?” you asked, your head fully resting on his shoulder now.

“No, silly. I just mean…moments like this. With you. You make me feel really normal, and you’re truly such a cool ‘n down to earth person. Thank you.” He was being completely serious, and that tugged at your heartstrings with so much force you thought your chest would collapse. You lifted your head at me his intense gaze.

“Aw, look at you goin’ all soft on me.” You poked his shoulder playfully. “I really do enjoy your company, no matter how many times I threaten to break your kneecaps for waking me up to do somethin’ random. You remind me how to be free. How to spectate the fleeting moments. Thank you.” You leaned your head back onto his shoulder, but deeper into the crevice of his neck this time.

Neither of seemed to want to unfreeze this moment, so you didn’t. You sat there in each other’s embrace, not thinking of work or home life or anything but the beach in front of you, the dipping sun in the sky, and the presence of the other.

“Let’s go throw these cups out before we attract ants,” you whispered to Michael, subconsciously trying to hold on to the quiet longer, even through speech.

He nodded his head and took yours from you, placing it inside of his. With his free hand, he helped you rise to your feet and both of you stretched your tight limbs. Wordlessly, he took your hand again and led you to the nearest trash can.

Then, his eye caught a glimpse of a foil package on the outside of it, ready to pick it up and place it in the bin—the environmentalist in him.

“Wait, Mike no! That’s a used condom!” you giggled at his naivety.

“Jesus—not in vain. People really do that kinda stuff out in public like that?” he asked, flustered.

“You have no idea what people get up to…At least we’re not at Venice Beach,” you joked, imagining Michael trying his hardest to appear unfazed at the sight of topless women, contortionists, and old men in thong speedos riding around and chatting it up with people on their roller skates. Or the other thousand crazy things that happen there. “Looks like it was a waste though,” you added thoughtlessly.

“A waste? What d’you mean?” he asked, incredulous. The man seemed to at least…finish the job.

“Those condoms suck. I bet it either broke in the woman or he came too fast and she was uncomfortable the whole time,” you suspected.

“How can you tell that by looking?” Michael was still so confused.

“Babe, I’m not a virgin. I’m speakin’ from unfortunate experience,” you replied through an unamused chuckle.

“Oh.”

He of course knew that. You’ve called him hungover or tipsy a couple times talking about failed hookup attemps and at least two successful ones. You never ever went into detail about it, but he’d still get awkward at the mention of your sex like anyways. For no reason, at that, because you’re just friends.

He threw the cups—accompanied by your spoons and soiled napkins—he was still holding in the trash after a beat of silence.

“I don’t think I’ve asked. And you don’t have to answer, I swear. But are you? A virgin, I mean,” you inquired cautiously. It made you slightly self cautious whenever the conversation was focused on your romantic life because it didn’t feel…whole, and you weren’t sure why. So, you decided to let him know he was safe to talk about his own.

“You can’t tell?” he asked honestly.

“I mean, I’ve learned not to judge…but I’ve considered it?” you replied truthfully.

“Well, yeah. I am. I’m just waitin’ for the right girl, y’know?” You nodded your head in earnest.

“I wish I did the same, to be honest…Well, to the future girl, lucky you!” You wished you could grab the words from the air and shove them back down your throat, because why in the fuck did you say that out loud?

Thankfully, he just laughed it off, probably assuming it was just you being weird again.

You looked up at him and realized his face was only mere inches from yours, and it felt like all the oxygen supply in the world had been put on pause. He had been looking at you intently, but you were never one to shy away from eye contact, and your warm eyes made him all but melt right then and there, and he looked past you after struggling to hold it.

“Makin’ you nervous?” you asked him, voice full of allure. You were trying everything not to risk your entire friendship.

“N-no…” Michael so obviously lied. You raised a very disbelieving eyebrow at him and he tried again, making a show to clear his throat. “A little,” he admitted.

The boy looked scared. You shrugged nonchalantly.

“I have that effect on people. C’mon, I wanna see if those turtle eggs have hatched yet.”

You grabbed his wrist and led him up the path to the area on the sand where the eggs had been buried the last time your two saw them.

“They’re still not hatched, damnit!” you cursed, letting go of your tight hold on his arm. You swore that the next time you came, they would’ve been, and now you owed Michael your special edition Disney World hoodie.

“Ha! I knew it. That Disney sweater’s gonna look so good in my closet,” he gloated.

“Whatever. I was actually lookin’ forward to seeing the baby turtles, though. I’ve been taking care of them and now I want one.” The pout you tried so hard to conceal was the most pitiful thing Michael had ever seen.

“Bubble, I’ll get you one! We can raise it together….y’know, as friends,” he added, desperate to bring that pretty smile back to your face.

“Really?! Oh, Mike, let’s go to the animal shelters and see if they have any right now!” you exclaimed enthusiastically. You gave him a kiss on the cheek, and although it was honestly platonic on your end, realizing what you did made your stomach go crazy. Looking like the happiest guy on earth, he adjusted your purse on his shoulder and took off your sunglasses, placing them on your forehead. He stretched his hand out for yours and took it gently. He so badly wanted to kis—

“Okay, but can we get another shaved ice first?”

Tags: @simp4eshal @urbanfunkchild @slugstarzz @cndybliss @yenvixx @plumppies @lil6uapa @etherealmikeyj @saiki-enthusiast @kottonkanditits @gyuuchuuu @ggformike @cherubae111 @strangerexee @softchaosdiary505 @devynrulesboisdrool @applehead444 @screamthusiast @Ilyliberiangirl @thrillerpilled @loveposiie @deletedkisses @freakinme @melaninswift

Message to be added or removed!

[amnesia-sc]

only eyes for you | michael jackson

cw/tw: fluff blurb, history! era, wife! reader, no use of y/n, michael can always find you in a crowd, public displays of affection

you initially hadn’t been able to make it tonight, feeling horrible when you told michael you were scheduled to be on set. as always, he was understanding to a fault, telling you it was fine as his fingers gently squeezed your own. lips pressing an even kiss to your mouth but you knew him well enough— the fault lines that made up his composure shifting slightly in disappointment at the fact you wouldn’t be there when he accepted his award.

but the universe decided to be kind to you, an electrical issue rendering the shoot useless. not a moment after the evening was canceled, you booked a cab to stop by the hotel for a quick change before heading to the venue.

you were leaned against the wall at the back of the ballroom, mostly hidden in shadow and light caught on the diamond that was sitting heavily on your finger as you brought a flute of champagne to your lips. smiling warmly as michael was called up to the stage to accept his award.

there was something nice about not being perceived. almost as though it was your own little secret as you watched him, given he had no idea you were there. his smile bright as the stage lights bathed him in a glow, his cadence even as he gave his speech and cracked a joke that made everyone laugh. your heart warming when he mentioned you as he went down a list of people in his life he was grateful for.

your hand froze as you went to take another sip of champagne when he blew a kiss in your direction, wondering if it was simply in your head because there was no way in hell he could’ve spotted you through the dense crowd.

applause erupted in the room as he stepped off the stage, one hand holding his award as the other waved at people as he weaved through the masses and tables.

your lips parting in surprise when you realized he was in fact making his way directly towards you.

“what…” your sentence broke off in a soundless laugh as he came to a stop just before you, his smile warm as he leaned down, lips capturing yours.

“hey, baby.” michael muttered, his low voice dancing around you.

he kissed you a few more times, barely letting you string a thought together and you placed a hand on his chest to halt him— not that you wanted to, but your mind was spinning.

“michael, how on earth did you see me?”

he tilted his head at you like it was the most obvious thing on earth.

“when do i not see you?”

michael jackson masterlist

taglist: @solarrandom @mjssluttyfish @tojiswifeforlife @sometranslationnoteru @sunshineyrosie @amoravelee @mvsticmoony @softchaosdiary04 @slugstarzz @unknown11 @redemptioninthe4ethers @saberlight1 @roseidol @iimsopretty @auroralwriting @thottiepebbless16 @wannabestartinsmth @delicate-ray-of-sunshine @loverstar014 @mjjsangel @ghzfj @18lkpeters @devilslittlehelper @cherubae111 @ursamajor17 @sarcasmismyfirstlove @bbpanth3rr @brainacidsstuff @fayleyy @lovern-9 @jxngwons-pinkyy @veraberaxx @thrill3rnights @arzua10 @michaelcomeback @coornballz @escapefromrealitylol @rorawrnoa-zoro @ooooglymoooogly @tellybearryyyy @softchaosdiary505 @yennabow @sparklyglove @khxna @grumpyy-bearr @erenstitanweave @loveposiie @mikaylajacksonnn @shadesofcool51

[celestial-wildfire]

Just Like Always

!otw Michael x !childhoodbsf reader | wc: 4.7k

notes: smut! , mutual pining, porn w build-up plot, no use of y/n, pet names (js "mama"), lil size kink, handjob

synopsis: the season isn't the only thing changing atm... your relationship with your best friend is starting to feel different, until everything finally culminates at an innocent movie night at hayvenhurst

i hope you guys enjoy! this is my first time actually publishing one of my fics so im kinda nervy 🫣

Summer of 1973

You were fourteen when your family chose to relocate to the suburbs of Encino, California. Cranking down the passenger window, you welcomed the warm air, letting it coat your face as your parents signaled landmarks along the drive. You rested your elbows on the lip of the window, lowering your chin to sit atop your folded hands. You soaked in your new surroundings as they whizzed by. A faint smile lingered on your face, your mind wandering to all the newfound and limitless possibilities of your life here.

Your head perked up as the car turned onto Hayvenhurst Ave. Apart from it being the street you’d soon be calling home, your parents had mentioned, fleetingly, that the Jackson family also lived in your neighborhood. You had dismissed it, casually assuming that that meant a few streets over, or just somewhere in the vicinity. You couldn’t have been more wrong.

On the second day of unpacking, you’d found yourself buried alive in half-emptied boxes and clothes scattered about when the doorbell sounded. Busy herself, your mother asked you to get it. Scurrying down the steps and nearly skidding right past the door handle in your slippery socks, you took a deep breath and tugged it open, only to be met with the tender doe eyes of a young man.

Bashfully, he averted his gaze for a moment before breaking the silence. “Hello..!” He said softly.

“..Hi.” You smile, unsure of how to react. You knew exactly who he was without any introductions.

“I hope I’m not botherin’ you or anything, I- I just was walkin’ through the neighborhood and thought that I’d say hello,” he smiled back, "I'm Michael.”

“Hi,” you said again, and introduced yourself. “We moved in the other day.” You turned to gesture to the house and the towers of boxes still visible upon peering into the interior.

As you whirled your attention back to the boy standing at your doorstep, your eyes met his. They were kind, and devastatingly beautiful. You could have taken a dive right then, and let the warmth his deep brown eyes exuded to cocoon and utterly consume you. Everything about him, his mere presence, began to draw you in rapidly like quicksand.

“I was just, umm, wonderin’ if you’d want to get to know each other? Like be friends ‘n all?” Michael shifted on his feet.

You couldn’t help the grin that spread across your face. “Oh, yes! I think that’d be great.” His eyes danced at your acceptance. You gathered your courage, “Would you… want to come in?”

You led Michael, the Michael Jackson, through the foyer and into the kitchen, where your mother was pent up organizing and pacing through the clutter.

“Mother, this is Michael. His family lives down the street.” You tried to keep your voice as cool and composed as possible, despite being overcome with disbelief. She greeted him warmly, cradling her own restraint, and granted you permission to show him around the house, (nevermind how minimal the progress made with unpacking was).

“Come,” you wrapped your fingers around his wrist and gave a soft tug as you started out of the kitchen entryway, “I’ll show you my room!” Each point of contact your fingerpads made with his skin felt electric.  

Michael followed close behind you, lingering in the doorway to your bedroom as you plopped yourself down on the rug. “What?” You grinned, and passed him a quizzical look.

He glanced around, smiling to himself. “You have so many stuffed animals.” Your eyes widened in immediate shame and horror before he spoke, “Oh no, no, no, I love that. I love them. I have some of my own.” He settled beside you, folding his lanky legs into a criss-cross adjacent to you on your rug.

You beamed at him, reaching into a box to pull out a film reel that was one of your personal favorites. You held it up, “do you like movies?”

And so began what would define the next several years of yours and Michael’s friendship. Seeing each other once or twice a week soon evolved into visiting at any moment he could spare in his suffocatingly-busy schedule. Late-night movies, book debates, board games, horsing around outdoors or even convincing poor Bill Bray to drive someplace only scratched the surface of the endless activities you found yourself up to with Michael. He truly was the person, the only person, who you felt you could call your best friend. The bond the two of you shared was unlike anything you’d ever known.

Autumn of 1981

The prior success of the Jackson 5 was undeniable, but Michael’s fame only skyrocketed upon the release of his solo album, Off The Wall. But even with all that was going on in his life, Michael made sure to prioritize the spare time he had to spend scooping ice cream sundaes or laying on the floor in his room spinning vinyls with you. For Michael, being with you was easy in the way that it calmed the chaotic sphere he often found himself trapped in. You guided him and steadied his reeling mind when others could not. The reason for this, he could not quite place.

When his father deployed him to do the Triumph Tour with his brothers, you were devastated, but gave your earnest effort in concealing that from Michael. You knew he was already disappointed about being coerced into touring, and the last thing you wanted to do was to make him feel worse by throwing your own discontent into the mix. No one understood you quite like Michael did, and that’s what made his going away so difficult. Of course, you had other friends to surround yourself with in his absence, but it just wasn’t the same. They weren’t Michael, and they weren’t your best friend.

Although this tour wasn’t the longest Michael had ever been away, it certainly felt that way. For two months you yearned for the phone to ring, each time hoping it was Michael, just so you could hear his gentle voice and giggles from the other end of the line.

The way you felt about Michael had always been more or less stagnant; he was your best friend, like the brother you never had. However, increasingly over the past year or so, things have seemed off. They weren’t inherently wrong, or awkward, or anything less than usual, but different. There would be the off-chance that reaching for the same item, your fingers brushed, or one of you caught the other staring, things of that nature, that momentarily left the room and the space in and around you charged. Something was changing, is changing. It’s a persistent, nagging thought in your brain, one you have mulled over again and again until you were sure you could scream. 

In early October, the tour was finished, the leaves were turning, and the day you’d planned to see Michael had finally come. You had run into him at their final show’s after-party, but not for very long. Tonight would just be the two of you, just like always. 

Right?

—

You are packing some necessities into your overnight bag when the phone rings. You run over to your bedside table, tucking the phone between your ear and shoulder.

“Hi Michael!” You knew who it was.

“Hello! Aah, oh, Bubbles!” 

The chimp’s shriek sounds through the receiver, and you chuckle. “Is this an okay time?”

Banging, clattering, and rustling is the reply from the other end of the line, before a hurried, “No, I mean, yes, everything’s good. Now’s good.” He exhales, “I know you haven’t been by in a bit, is there anythin’ you want me to pick up?”

“Ah, um, well, just the usual, I suppose,” you pause to zip your bag, “ice cream, popcorn, you know.”

“Oh, well, that’s all here already.” He replies cheerfully. You smile, because why wouldn’t it be? It’s Michael.

“I’m walking over now, I’ll see you in a min—” Before you can finish, Michael interrupts. “No need. Bill is outside.”

“But Michael, you practically live next door..!” Your protesting is futile. Michael sits quietly before simply saying, “You deserve only the absolute best,” and the line clicks.

He isn’t kidding, Bill really is outside waiting for you. Bill spots your approach, and steps out to open the door. “Hiya, Joker!” A part of you is always happy when Bill extends his sweet nickname for Michael to you, as well.

“Hi, Bill.”

—

Bill insists on carrying your bag to the front door of the Jacksons’ Hayvenhurst home before driving off. You take a deep breath through your nose as you knock. It opens almost instantly, and there he is. As his smile grows, his eyes light up along with it. He lunges for you, wrapping you in a tight squeeze.

Your name escapes his lips, picking you up quickly before setting you back down, and he steps back. It doesn’t take long before his typical flush creeps across his face. You chuckle, “Hi Mike.”

The moisture of his curls catches the warm light bathing the entryway, and he is clad comfortably in a white tee and pajama pants. His shirt is ever-so-slightly snug, exemplifying the leanness and elegance of his body. For a moment, you’re lost in a daze.

A wave of quiet nestles itself in the space between you, making you keenly aware of the way your heart is pounding in your chest, and the way Michael’s eyes are darting all across your face. The silence feels like a challenge.

“Come on, I’ve got the perfect movie ready!” Michael’s tender voice shakes you back to reality. He skips a few steps ahead and leads the way to his living room. 

Your head is spinning. What is happening? That’s rhetorical; of course you know, but you just can’t admit it to yourself. You watch as he settles onto his usual spot on the sofa, furtively gazing at, and admiring how, the glow of the television illuminates his face. Did he feel the same way, just now? You cozy up into your own nook, covering your lap with a blanket. You scan the setup; your customary spots have been claimed, bowls of popcorn and snacks are strewn across the coffee table, and a sleeping bag is laid out a few feet away. All is normal. It’s just another movie night at Michael’s. Just like always. You exhale, and a welcome distraction enters as the film Michael had picked begins to play.

Though, even as the movie continues, the weight of the air around you is still making its presence known. You and Michael had never been ones to talk during films, but the quiet bothered you today. 

“Do you want to make sundaes?” You blurt out, smiling apologetically as he jumps at the sudden interjection.

“Yeah!” He grins at the promise of one of his favorite delicacies, and you’re amused by the haste with which he scrambles to the kitchen. He spins and taps his feet to some internal melody, and hums as he fetches the ice cream.

You dig your spoon into the solidly frozen core of the carton, but to no avail. The ice cream won’t budge. Michael notices your struggle, and before you have even a moment to protest, you feel the heat of his body as he comes up behind you. “Here,” he chuckles softly, the sound reverberating through your body, appearing right at your ear. He places his hand atop yours, tentatively at first, assessing before adding the force to help you. You hold your breath, hyper-aware of every point of touch he has with your hand and wrist. He releases a few scoops into your bowl, then lets go. A drip of ice cream snakes down his finger, and before you can stop yourself, you watch as he slips his finger into his mouth and innocently sucks it clean. You hold each other’s gaze, chests heaving. You search his face, looking for something you weren’t sure you wanted to find. You clear your throat quietly, “Well, you need some too, Mike.”

At that, the trance-like state you were both in mere seconds earlier dissolved away as suddenly as it had come. Your heartbeat quickens as you stand off to the side, Michael getting his own share while you swirl whipped cream and a dashing of sprinkles into your bowl. Surely, he could hear it; your pulse was nearly deafening in your own ears.

“Ready?” Michael calls to you, meeting your eyes and flashing you a soft, genuine smile. If only he knew how beautiful he truly is. You nod, running up behind him to poke him playfully where you know he’s most ticklish. He yelps, and chases you as you flee back to the safety of the couch. Guarding your equally-as-ticklish body with your sundae, peering around the bowl to smirk tauntingly in his direction, he surrenders with a laugh, and resumes the movie. Spoons clink on the ceramic, giggles erupt from your mouths, and the dimly-lit room is filled with the flickering colors of the television, and everything feels okay again. You tell yourself that over, and over, and over as the movie continues and the credits start to roll, but a small, intrusive glimmer in the back of your mind whispers the complete opposite. 

You help clear the dishes and tidy the living room, doing so with Michael in a weaving of comfortable silence and dually-hummed melodies and silly songs. You find yourself yawning into the palm of your hand, and you traipse your way back to the sofa. You start to collect your things to switch over to the sleeping bag, when Michael reemerges.

“No.” He says flatly. “You’re sleepin’ on the couch. Please. I want to be sure that you’re comfortable.”

He was so earnest in his words that you couldn’t argue. You sigh in lieu of your objections, and nestle back into your spot, shuffling beneath the blanket as Michael tugs the sleeping bag closer to the foot of the couch. He looks up at you from his position on the floor, his Bambi eyes poised to draw the air right from your lungs. 

“I told you earlier,” Michael grins, “you deserve nothin’ but the best.”

He couldn’t be more handsome in this moment, you thought, his curls perfectly disheveled, and his face bathing in the warm glow of the lamp across the room. It’s almost painful to have to just sit and stare, not able to feel the touch of his lips or to caress his skin–

“You okay?”

You look up out of your haze to find his brow softly furrowed, worry clouding his expression. His hand came up to rest on the cushion, fingertips meeting the skin of your thigh through the fluff of the blanket.

Fervently, you nod. “No, yeah, I’m okay. Just… lost in thought I guess,” you offer what you hope is a reassuring smile, but Michael only holds your gaze. You feel his fingers slowly begin to wander up the side of your thigh, intently observing you for any sign of unease. Your breath is lodged in your throat, your heart hammering against your chest, but you don’t move. You don’t protest. His nimble fingers start to dance in gentle, scattered movements on your thigh, seemingly absentmindedly on Michael’s part, yet that couldn’t be further from the truth. He loves the contact, he has been craving it all night thus far. He tilts his head, his doe eyes looking up at you through his lashes. You could just die right there. You feel your stomach flip on itself, landing where a plume of warmth expands through your core.

Almost imperceptibly, you lean forward, able to reach out to gently cup the side of his face. You thumb the sensitive skin of his cheek, smiling faintly.

His breathing quickens. “Tell me you want me to stop. I will, and we’ll just go right to sleep and–”

You cut him off, “Michael…” 

He freezes, searching your face as you’re searching for the courage you so desperately need. You shift off of your knees, lowering yourself further into the cushions, eyes nearly aligned with each other now.

“Mike…” You breathe. You don’t know what to say, or do, but Michael did, Michael understood. He leans forward, closing what space was left between you, and places a slow, chaste kiss to your lips. He pulls back, looking into your eyes for confirmation that you gave immediately.

You tugged at the collar of his shirt, pulling him back into you and your lips found his again. The kiss erupts, and you groan as you feel his tongue pushing the precipice of your lips, posing an unspoken question. You open, heat coursing through your body as your tongues slide deliciously against one another. You tear yourself away from the kiss, both of you bursting into giggles as you urge him up onto the sofa. 

He claims the spot beside you, quickly slipping his hands snugly around your waist. You feel his pull, an attempt to guide you where he wants you: his lap. You eagerly oblige, suppressing what probably would have been a squeal of delight. You settle onto him, situating your legs on either side of his own. You rest your forehead against his, your breaths mingling as neither of you can control the mischievous and joyful grins toying across your faces. Pushing him back against the sofa, the length of his neck and the expanse of his gorgeous jawline become immediately more accessible to you. Michael whines ever-so-softly as you place slow kisses across his collarbone, trailing up his neck, stopping to linger and suck on the sensitive skin at the pinnacle of the tip of his ear and his jaw. The sounds escaping his mouth gradually become more unraveled, leaving your body practically trembling in response. 

Michael captures your lips in another kiss, filling the room with soft sighs and the sound of your wet lips colliding in an endlessly hungry rhythm. Michael’s hands remain firmly at the plush of your hips, holding you exactly where he needs you. 

You feel him start to smile into the kiss, and you pull back. You study him for a moment. His lips are parted in a slight pant, his cheeks flushed, and his beautiful big eyes threaten to devour you in an instant. A grin spreads onto your face, tilting your head, “What?”

You can sense him starting to become bashful, flustered as he replies, “I just— I don’t know what to say,” he huffs amusedly, “I can’t tell y’ how happy this makes me.” You open your mouth to speak, but Michael beats you to it. He pulls you flush against his chest, positioning his lips just shy of your ear. “Oh God, I’ve wanted this for so long.” He speaks so tenderly, and with such intimacy that you think you might melt. You hum gently in response, placing more delicate kisses to his temple, his cheekbones, his jawline…

“Me too, Mike,” you whisper, “you have no idea.”

Michael groans softly at your words, at the affirmation of your mutual pining. He dives back into you, ensnaring your lips in a sensuous and impassioned kiss. Your tongues explore and dance in the slick warmth, your body shivering with desire, sparks roaming across your skin. Readjusting your position on Michael’s lap, you gasp as you release your weight back onto him. The hardening bulge of his erection pushes up into you oh so pleasurably, and he stiffens, opening his eyes to meet yours. His fingers thrum at your hips, squeezing once before he slowly thrusts up into your aching core. A lewd sound escapes your lips, one that only encourages Michael. 

He pants, his hot breath fanning your cheek. Ecstasy envelops the room and the space you share. Without even thinking, your hips start to grind in tandem with his own, chasing the contact you crave. The kiss grows sloppier, thick spit slipping out from the corners of your mouths, as a cacophony of needy moans exemplifies just how much the both of you have been holding back. You are completely content with losing yourselves in one another, exploring the uncharted, once entirely restricted territory that is now limitless and unrestricted. 

Michael’s fingertips curiously begin to trail up your back, the looseness of your shirt allowing him to easily reach and caress your skin. His touch is tender, a soft grazing as his hands travel up, and down, rising to your shoulder blades and then once more gliding to your waist. You shudder, enamored with the way Michael’s gentle affection is almost worshipful. Your need for him is planted like a seed in your belly, every kiss and touch pushing it to sprout and blossom, churning and persistent in your core. Your hands toy with the rim of his shirt, making contact with his heated skin beneath. You drag your fingers up his abdomen, hooking the piece of clothing onto your wrists so as it rises with your movements. His alluring dancer’s physique is revealed inch by inch, and you think you could collapse just feeling it through your fingertips’s exploration. He really is beautiful.

The contact is making Michael begin to squirm, overwhelmed and quietly anxious for more, to feel you. Your hips continue to rock into him, rhythmically nudging just the spot you need him to, but for you, it’s not enough either. 

“Michael…” You whine, breathlessly, so softly it is nearly imperceptible.

He can’t take it anymore. You gasp into the kiss as Michael smoothly flips you to lay on your back, flush against the cushion as he settles himself between your legs. “Mama…” He whispers, a gravelly edge to his voice, “can I? Is this–” His fingers wander, leaving sparks in their wake as he drags them to rest just below your waistband, “Is this okay?”

You nod, and a dazzlingly handsome smile spreads across his face, but he has never been more serious about a matter in his life. “Jus’ wanna make you feel good.”

Without a second thought, you reach up to grab his wrist, holding his gaze as you lead his hand down, down, down. He takes a sharp inhale; the fabric is damp, no, sopping. His eyes widen for a split second, a smirk playing on his lips. He pushes his fingertips into you, rubbing agonizingly slow circles into the fabric of your panties. A lewd whine escapes you at the sudden intensification.

“Are you– you’re wet,” Michael breathes, groaning as he watches you and your body contort under the pleasure.

“Mmmph, mhm,” is all you can muster, your mind utterly fogged by arousal. “Mi-Michael, let me…” you extend your free hand, reaching to delicately start to palm him. Michael releases a terribly delicious moan at the sudden contact.

The air is hot and thick with uncaged lust, enveloping both of you with desire and mutual arousal so palpable it is practically a cocoon. This moment is almost tender in its intimacy. The pining suffered by Michael and yourself for many gruesome years is now obsolete, marked by the euphoric feelings of pleasure rocking your bodies, even just by touches through a layer of clothing.

The fabric of your underwear begins to shift to the side, unintentionally at first, that is, until Michael feels the hot, slickness of your center, now exposed to his curious fingertips. In an instant, he tugs the rest of the panty over, dragging three long fingers agonizingly slowly over your soaked core. Your jaw goes slack as you tremble from the vehement waves of pleasure.

You pull at the strings of his pants, a wordless signal to him of what you are planning to do. He retracts his hand for a moment, and you promptly notice your arousal coating his fingers. His eyes lock onto yours, with a salacious new intensity that makes your thighs clench. His pajamas fall down his legs, revealing a bulge and seeping dampness on the fabric of his boxers that has you salivating. You look to him for permission before reaching behind the waistband to free his stiff and leaking length.

Arms entwined, hands exactly where each other need them most, Michael leans down to reconnect his lips with yours. The kiss is slow and voluptuous compared to the pace your hand and his are moving.

Your shorts are still around your knees, your panties snug to your hips. “Slide these down for me, please, Mama,” Michael purrs. You nod, lifting up to help as he tugs the rest down, and off completely, leaving you entirely bare to him. His dick twitches in your grasp, and he delves downward to cover your cheeks and neck in hurried, wet kisses. You maintain gentle strokes along him, marveling at the numerous veins that trail his length, his arousal gliding down. 

My God, you’re big.

“What..?” Michael looks at you inquisitively, yet he’s also terribly amused. Horror momentarily strikes a chord of fear as you realize what you’ve said aloud, but lust soon clouds your mind again. You swallow, a slow smirk playing across your lips, “You- you’re big, Mike.”

Michael’s eyes widen, followed quickly by a deliciously sultry expression, his brows furrowing as he groans softly, “Oh God Mama…”

He presses his hips into yours, the slick from your core adding to a euphoric new friction as his erection rubs against you. Each grind, each thrust up into him, brings him increasingly closer to slipping into you. The wetness from your arousal dribbles down your thighs, the thick head of his cock nudging your sensitive nub just perfectly. Your lips collide with his, messily, dragging your tongues along the other with intensifying ardor.

Without warning, his length suddenly catches on the cavity of your entrance, the tip slipping part-way inside. You gasp, overlapping with a heady groan from Michael. He freezes, eyes full of alarm as he realizes what just happened. You reach up to cup his cheek, nodding, “It’s okay, Michael.”

He doesn’t wait another second. Slowly, carefully, he pushes further into your aching, sopping core. Michael’s moan is low, and intoxicatingly rhapsodic, the stretch swiftly transforming into unrivalled pleasure. Your body is squeezing him so tightly that he looks to be in ecstasy. He is beautiful this way: his curls tousled, a sheen of sweat on his skin, and an impassioned lust that you’d only ever thought to dream of from him. Each inch sliding deeper and deeper inward makes your entire body shake, overcome completely by this feeling. Michael lets out a throaty exhale the moment he bottoms out, hips meeting yours at the hilt.

“Y’ alright?” Michael asks reverently, placing a sweet peck onto your forehead. You reach for the nape of his neck, tugging him toward you to capture him in a hasty kiss, wordless confirmation passing between you. Michael eases his hips back, the sensation overwhelming. He picks up a rhythm, inducing a stretch so snug that you can feel every ridge, every vein, grazing your walls. Your lips clash deeply, sensuously, tongues swirling and brushing slowly, taking all the time in the world to explore one another in this new way. Michael runs his large hands up the plush of your thigh, then wandering up the curvature of your lower back, worshipping you. Venerating you. 

“So pretty,” He murmurs in breaths between kisses, “my girl.”

You whine, invigorated, his words crawling like sparks of electricity on your skin. The endless ooze of your arousal echoed in the space you occupied, interlaced with both of your needy, drawn-out cries. Saliva pools from the corners of your mouth, Michael’s easy thrusts combining gloriously with the sloppy kisses to cocoon the two of you in utter euphoria. It’s perfect, in every way. 

Your once-held fears about losing the connection with your beloved best friend all faded away. Though in one evening, so much seems to have changed, it really hasn’t. Your love and passion for one another has been omnipresent since the very beginning, and this new revelation isn’t going to destroy a thing. Looking into his beautiful doe eyes, you know one thing for certain: What’s between you and Michael has been, and will eternally be, just like always.

[m0onlitreverie]

WHYhaveineverseenthis?WHYisnobodytalkingaboutthis?

[curlz4mygirls]

his lap looks available oooouu don’t mind if i do! 💋💋

[jeahamkrle]

We don't talk enough about how FINE he was in the Leave Me Alone mv

[clarkwent]

The Bodyguard - Part 2

Michael Jackson x Bodyguard!reader

September of 1987, Michael Jackson's Bad Tour has started in Japan. With thousands of fans crying and screaming for the King of Pop's attention, one obsessed fan has no intention of getting caught—not yet at least. More security, more protocols, will Michael break all the rules or just your heart?

Part 2 of 3 (series masterlist) wc: 9.6k

warnings: mentions of a stalker/stalking, mature language, mature scenes, smut, mentions of death (not mcs), angst, mentions of injuries/blood

loosely based on real life events and real people. this is a work of fiction please do not take anything written in this story as fact taglist: @mysterious--treasure @vi1326 @dreamayy @gissellec1

"I have to call this in," you murmur in a daze against Michael's lips; the static energy between the tiny gap of your mouths had you losing focus. Professionally, it was truly wrong for the both of you but the fast beating in your chest felt the complete opposite. From sheer panic and a moment of flusteredness, Michael didn't understand his need to seek comfort from your lips but his body did it for him anyway. 

Michael stays seated on the foot of the bed while you slowly get up to use the phone on the nightstand and dial O’Hare’s number. The phone takes a moment to connect and you glance back at Michael still with his back to you, his head hanging low. 

A sinking feeling fills your chest, cursing yourself for getting too close. 

In Michael's mind, the two of you had grown to be friends, a form of comfort for him at the end of his demanding schedule. It was the kind of solace he had always looked for, something that rarely challenged him and put his heart at ease. Now he's worried he had messed it all up with something he felt so natural to do.

Had he messed this up for the both of you? What if the person comes after you too? Was he looking into your attention and protectiveness as affection and had this all wrong? 

Michael was having so many thoughts in his head he didn't even hear you hang up the phone and open the door to Bill and Frank. It all sounds muffled in his ears as you explain what happened to his room and argue with both of them.

He jumps when you lay your hand on his shoulder. 

“Michael? We have to move. Bill’s already taking your stuff to the car.”

He moves in autopilot, hands placing his sunglasses back over his eyes and following you through the halls and into a waiting car. You drive for hours until the tall busy buildings fade into small houses, wide meadows and trees. 

“Where are we going? Don't we have rehearsals tomorrow?” His voice fills the quiet interior of the vehicle. Of course he's thinking about work. His life was put in danger but he wouldn't let any of that throw him off his schedule. 

“We're canceling the first two shows.”

“What?! You can't! Turn the car around. The fans would be—” sitting straighter and in a panic, he turns to you unable to believe what you said was true.

“I don't give a shit about your fans, Mike!” your voice raises an octave, he stares at you frozen. From your peripheral you see him shake his head and lean back on his seat staring out the window. 

“I'm sorry, okay? But this whole thing has been compromised. Your safety is my only concern. We were lucky.”

“Lucky?” he repeats, turning his head to look at you again.

“I'm just saying that it could have been worse,” you explain in gentle words, cautious not to spook him with a bigger fear that was gnawing in your head since opening those connecting doors.

“Worse than letting down thousands of people? You can't control my life. My fans are everything to me,” he laments.

“I'm not trying to control your life, Michael. Nobody saw this person come into your room and they had all the time to do that,” you spare him a glance. He still looks mad.

“What if–” the words slip from you, gripping the steering wheel tight. Your own anger and frustration battling to burst out.

“What if what?” he challenges. A heat creeps up your neck and spreads to your palms, making them sweaty. You reach to turn the air conditioner higher. “I'm just saying we were lucky because all they did was put letters on your wall and steal a few things.” Your fingers readjust on the wheel and take a deep breath.

“No. Try again. ‘What if’ what?”

“Someone could have been waiting in your room to hurt you or worse and I was nowhere near you!” you didn’t mean to yell and the silence from him made you feel even worse for snapping.

The sun sets along the coast when the car finally stops at a small house at the end of a dirt road off the main route.

You turn the car off and pop your head out the open window. You make a loud whistle sound from your lips alerting a man that was sitting on the porch.

“You’re joking! Is that really you?” the man wearing a tank top and swim shorts, jogs over to the car. You meet him halfway and get engulfed in a huge hug, lifting you off the ground squeezing tight. Michael slowly gets out of the car watching the exchange. 

“I need you to meet someone,” you say, patting him on the back and pulling away.

“James, this is Michael.” You point to the singer who stood idly by the car. “Michael, James. We used to work together.” Hitting your friend in the arm with the back of your hand to stop him from staring, he instinctively swats back at you and walks over to Michael, extending his hand. 

“Hello, James. Nice to meet you.” Michael firmly shakes his hand, noting his big arms, calloused and tan. He had golden hair, a bit longer than Michael's, a physique of someone who took years to build all of that muscle and rugged exterior outdoors. Michael was instantly envious, ego bruised by mere muscle mass and masculine aura. 

“Nice to meet you, mate. I'll take the bags,” his hand pats Michael on the shoulder as he passes by and the singer had to brace his feet a bit by the heaviness of his hand. 

“I appreciate you doing this for us, James.” he hears you say, taking a bag off of your friend’s shoulder. Michael follows along behind. He sees the way the two of you talk, the way your smile was brighter, how your shoulders look like they carried a little less weight and the tone of your voice held a bit less edge and caution. He wonders if you were ever like that with him. The reality of being put through a lie from all the time you spent together hurts him again. 

Weeks of those late night talks seemed so long ago but he remembers every detail, but now he wasn't sure if any of those were true. He held in his heart one version of you that was now shattered, holding onto the pieces unsure if he can still hold the same shape if he tries to mend it all back together. 

He watches you laugh with an airiness at something James had said. Mind still in tangles from finding out the real reason you're in his life, his heart can't help but pump that green envy in his veins. 

James gave the two of you a short tour of the beach house, it looked small from the outside but was quite spacious indoors. Everything was made of hardwood, floor to ceiling, even furniture. Upstairs were two bedrooms and a shared bathroom. The whole place was decorated with different types of memorabilia from different countries, vases, paintings and photos. Michael stops at one of you and James, arms draped over each other's shoulders, smiling at the camera while the background shows a long row of cherry blossom trees. Etched on the bottom right was ‘Japan ‘78’ in pen.

You thank James again, walking him to the door. “It's no biggie, Dove. Y'know I owe you more than once,” he winks showing a pearly set of teeth that contrasted his burnt golden skin. 

“Call me if you need anything,” he offers, glancing back at Michael and giving him a wave before he makes it out the door.

“Dove?” Michael asks, curious at the nickname that weighed with affection. 

“I saved his ass from dying one too many times. He just started calling me ‘Dove’ after that,” you explain but it doesn't help quell the interest he has on your real past. Michael didn’t pry further. 

Dinner had been awfully quiet. You had prepared a simple meal, as a little olive branch to Michael silently asking for forgiveness for going behind his back and canceling his shows. Once you called him from his room, he just quietly sat down and pushed his fork around his plate taking a few bites here and there. 

You didn't know what to say really, another apology doesn't fix that he'll be stuck here with you for a few days until it all settles over. Letting him process this on his own until he's less angry was your best bet. After thanking you for the meal he barely touched, he went straight back to his room and stayed there throughout the night. 

It was past midnight and Michael couldn't sleep with jetlag and thoughts overworking in his head about his fans, a stalker and the sudden kiss—sleep was never crossing his path. Sitting up from the bed, he looks around the room. It might be rude to most people but Michael loved to snoop. He liked to observe every photo and open every drawer, cabinet or closet in a space if he could. After looking at the small amount of books that didn't interest him on the bookshelf, he finds a small filling box peaking from underneath the bed. He pulls it out and sits on the floor to inspect. Dozens of VHS tapes were stuffed inside filling the box. 

A movie might put me to sleep. He thinks positively. He starts to take out a few tapes but gets a shock when he finally sees the covers on each sleeve. They were all dirty movies. Each tape had some of the most salacious combinations of words and photos he had ever seen.

This is wrong. Michael thinks to himself staring into the small file box. He knew it was wrong to invade someone’s personal belongings but if everything went his way, he'd be asleep right now completely exhausted from rehearsals. But instead he's at a beach cabin in the middle of nowhere unable to keep his eyes closed, he takes a cautious glance at the door. This is so wrong. He takes out a few tapes and un-sleeves a random one to feed it into the player under the TV, pushing the volume button until it was set in the lowest setting it could go. He quickly turns off all of the lights and sits on the bed leaning on the rustic wood headboard.

Michael felt like a teenager again, stealing Jermaine's playboy magazines and putting them back before he noticed them gone. Antsy, he fidgets with the remote and presses the play button. 

The scene starts with a dark screen and then a sound of a door being opened, a close-up shot of a woman that was rummaging through the refrigerator. The camera switches views to reveal her bent over, body only covered in a thin loose white t-shirt, her bare ass sticking out.

“I’m off to work, honey!” A male voice calls out off screen. Footsteps can be heard while she is still bent over and a male figure pops his head into the kitchen getting a full view of her bareness. He's transfixed right away and the camera switches to the male's point of view, zooming into her exposed cunt like he was walking towards it. Michael's eyes are wide and he feels nervous all of a sudden as the scene goes on like any minute the door would burst open and anyone would walk in on him watching porn in a stranger's bed.

“Maybe some breakfast first,” the male protagonist talks to himself out loud as the view switches to give an underside view as he dives his face in between her legs. The woman playing as his wife lets out a loud yelp, Michael's shoulders bunch up to his ears fearing that you might hear that sound and he quickly scrambles for the remote to mute the TV. 

He glances back at the door, waiting for any noise or indication that you were near. Not hearing anything he presses the volume button once and watches the screen again. The camera angle switches under the woman giving a full view of her breasts moving with each thrust of the man of his tongue into her glistening cunt. The tips of his ears burn, spreading to the chest then beneath his cotton pajamas. His heart keeps a fast space when the man finally plunges his hard dick into her, rocking them both by the intensity of his thrusts.

The click of a door closing nearby cuts the lewd exhibition short as he moves quickly to turn the TV off.

He stares blankly at the screen that had now turned to black, rubbing his hands over his face in shame and settles back down on the bed to try to sleep. The echo of the woman's moans hot in his ear makes the heat pool down his stomach towards his hard member. He tries to imagine something else like music he wants to write, a book he wants to read, a movie coming out soon but all of it gets washed away by the throbbing in his pants. 

The argument between shame and release was short in his mind when his hand travelled from his flushed face to his thigh. He rubs himself over his pajamas to soften the ache but the dirty echoes in his memory makes him rub harder and put pressure on his tip. The tone of voice in his head sounded so familiar, gripping his imagination. He feels his precum trickle from his hooded tip, his dick getting thicker by the second. 

Eyes closed, he thinks of himself in that moment—satisfying a woman with his tongue so good she's left incoherent and breathless. Visualizing the look on the woman's face twisted in pleasure, finding a familiar color in her eyes, yours. A choked moan escapes his lips when more features of your face appear in his mind. The curve of your lips, puckered in a whine. The heat from your eyes, begging him to give you more pleasure, his name being sighed in a breath like a plea. 

He slips his hand under the waistband and his hips buck at the new pressure. He imagines the sweet taste and warmth of your folds on his tongue, just like the movie. He could almost hear his name leave your lips in a frail way, whining from overstimulation. He feels so close to cumming, moving his wrist in a twisting motion as he fantasizes your voice whimpering his name again. The beat of his heart pulsing in his ears as he gets closer to his climax. The notes of your voice calling his name like a sensual symphony makes him pump his hand faster to ride his high. Spurts of his hot white abandon cover his hand and hip.

He catches his breath, groaning at the mess he had made of himself consuming his senses with shame. 

“Michael? Are you okay?” Your voice is muffled behind the door. Michael stills.

How long had you been standing there? Did you hear him? Oh god, should he open the door? 

Michael hastily cleans his hand over his pants and jumps off the bed, cringing at the feeling of the damp sticky cotton clinging to his skin. Feet skidding to the door, he takes a deep breath before pulling it open by just a crack.

“Yes?” He asks, meeting your eyes for a split second before looking away in embarrassment at the reality of what he had just done.

“I was just checking on you before I went to bed. Find everything okay in there?” Trying to look over his shoulder, the door moves quickly by Michael's hand to block the view of the scattered tapes on the floor. The small wet patch on his pants gets hit with the light from the hallway and he moves his leg to hide behind the darkness of the room and only let his face be seen.

“I'm fine. Goodnight, Y/N,” he says curtly and shuts the door. Ridding himself immediately of his ruined pajamas to swap it with clean ones and flopping face first onto the bed.

You guess his cold shoulder obviously hadn't thawed which landed a blow on you, but you hope he'll be in a better mood in the morning. You spent the night mulling over ways to make things slightly better.

It was still dark out but you decided on a quick jog along the beach to refresh your bones from the ache of the guest room’s pitiful excuse of a mattress. Going straight to the kitchen after your run, you work as quietly as possible to not wake Michael and get breakfast started. 

Plating the eggs and bacon, thinking that the simple meal would please his appetite better than last night's dinner. Michael had finally emerged from his room after the table had been set and you poured yourself a coffee. Groggily walking to the fridge, he grabs the jug of orange juice and takes a cup from the table to pour himself a glass.

You wait patiently by the center island for him to sit, standing still like you'll spook a wild animal if you moved too fast or made too much noise. But he ignores you completely, rubbing sleep from his tired looking eyes. He must not have had a comfortable sleep either. He takes a sip of his juice and turns to make his way back upstairs.

“Maybe some breakfast first?” you recommend, thinking that just the citrusy fluid could upset his empty stomach. Michael's shoulders visibly go up and cringe at your voice.

A little unsure about his ire towards you, the regret was already bitter on the tip of your tongue at the question. He probably still hates me for lying to him, you thought to yourself.

Little did you know, that question had echoed a quote from the vulgar movie last night where he fantasized himself being with you. Filling his spine with shame the whole night. 

“No thank you,” his answer was short. Though the protests of his grumbling stomach argued with him, he had to decline not even looking back at you and hurried to get out of the room as flashes of his fantasies about you last night invaded his mind.

By lunch, he stayed confined in his room barely making a sound. Thinking of anything else he could possibly want to eat, you make him a chicken sandwich and cut up an apple. You make your way upstairs with the plate and knock on his door. The door unlocks and Michael doesn't wait to greet you before returning back to the bed and picking up a book he was reading. 

“Want to go for a walk?” you ask, stepping into the space and placing the plate on the nightstand. The sun was shining high and the sound of the waves traveled into the room.

“It's too hot out,” he simply replies, glancing outside the open window. Focusing back on his book, you accept the rejection and leave him be. 

The whole day had gone by with you experiencing his detachment. You promised yourself you’ll try again later.

By late afternoon, you walk by his door again with a new plan. Hearing the faint sound of a TV reporter reading off the latest news, you pause by the door slightly ajar.

“Michael Jackson's new beau? 

 –eye witnesses claim to have seen the two very cozy together at the King of Pop's Sydney arrival. The singer couldn't keep his hands off her the moment they landed. Is she finally the one? 

The pop singer was supposed to hold a concert today but suspiciously cancelled two shows on his down under trip. Our sources claim that the canceled shows were because the singer had exchanged vows somewhere in Asia and had taken off mid-tour for a honeymoon celebration! Where could they be?”

“Okay, enough TV. Put this on and meet me outside,” you throw a full body wetsuit over to him and the rubbery material flops over his lap. Marching up to the TV and turning it off.

“I don't—”

You don't let yourself hear him dismiss you again and walk out of the room to get dressed. 

Checking the boards again if they were fit to be used, Michael finally walks downstairs wearing the suit you gave him, a black fedora adorning his head. It was an odd choice, but truthfully he still pulls it off. You pass him one of the large boards and a long paddle for him to carry.

“What are we doing?” he asks, but you don’t reply and walk around the house to follow the sandy trail down to the beach. He calls your name again. Grudgingly, he tails you.

“I don’t know how to—”

“It's easy, just copy me.” Michael sighs but watches you anyway. You lay on your stomach on the board with the paddle balancing at the front and use your arms to bring yourself further into the water. He copies you step by step until you stop and sit up, letting your feet dangle on the sides.

Michael stares at you and then at the sunset, watching as the sky changes colors from orange, pink to purple. The sound of water rippling and the motion of the waves harboring a calming presence between the two of you.

“Remember when I told you my cousin put me in a choke hold over a game of Go Fish? It was actually over poker and a British soldier.” The spontaneous confession pulls a deep chuckle from him.

“You're ridiculous,” he comments, shaking his head at you. His smile glistens like the water. Your stomach suddenly feels like a cage of butterflies, bustling to get out.

“What happened to your hip?” the question wasn’t asked to be intrusive, the soft concern in his eyes made you loosen your shoulders.

“You saw that, huh?”

“It looked…recent.” 

“Yeah, it was. Two years ago,” you say, fingers running over the edge of your top. There, still pink and indented. The small scar on your hip peaked under your rash guard top just above the string of your bikini bottoms. It was the deepest scar on your body, aside from the small scrapes from past jobs and military duties, it was the one you healed from the longest. 

“A rookie gang member got lucky and I almost lost my legs,” you add, his eyes widened a fraction.

“But you're okay now?” 

“As okay as I can be. Are you worried I won't be able to protect you, Sunshine?” Standing up from your board, you look down at him and his eyes look in earnest. It weakens your knees and you fumble with your balance for a moment.

“I just see you in pain sometimes. I get worried,” he confesses, looking down. A ridge forms in between his brow when he looks back at you.

“Sunshine?”

“It just fits you. Like your smile is as bright as sunshine.” The compliment easily escapes you and it makes him scoff and roll his eyes playfully. But inside, the sparks in his chest go off in chaotic staccato.

“It's my job to worry about you, Michael. Not the other way around."

Michael can't pinpoint the exact moment he started falling for you. Was it the first night when you fell asleep next to him? Or was it the moment his heart stopped when he couldn’t find you behind him at the airport when the crowd started to separate you. He remembers his heart absolutely plummeting when he saw the crush of the crowd quickly enveloping you, only wanting to run to you and keep you safe. He’s just certain that even though he felt betrayed by the lie you had to commit, he forgave you the same second he found out. 

By the time the sun had disappeared behind the horizon, you both had gone back to shore sharing the same smile.

For dinner you decided to take him somewhere else, giving him some mercy to not be subjected to your version of cooking even if he reassures you the food always tasted fine. You drive in silence for a few minutes and pull up to a small inn and pub up on a hill overlooking the shore. The door chimes when Michael jogs up to open it for you, James and his brother were behind the bar greeting the two of you.

Steaks served and finished within minutes. Michael took small sips of his wine grimacing as he watched you down your second beer, never understanding the appeal of the bitter ale.  He takes a look around the mostly empty space, the few patrons were in their own world not even sparing a glance at him. He feels happy to have a new experience under his belt thanks to you. 

"Your kind of place?" 

"Yeah." You smirk, catching the tune playing from the jukebox as one of his songs with his brothers. 

"Your kind of music?" he asks with a knowing smile

"Debatable." He lets out a belly laugh, high and loud. Carefree.

"No one can get by you here, huh?" he notes the way you act less guarded. He also saw the strap of a holster peaking under your jean jacket.

James walks by with another beer, collecting the empty glasses shaking his head at you silently scolding. You wave him off and laugh.

"If someone's willing to trade their life for a kill, no one's stopping them, Mike.”

"Doesn't sound like you need this job then," he leans back, the old leather of the small booth couch groaning.

"Well, they might get me instead of you," you debate, licking the foam off the edge of your mouth. You don’t miss his eyes tracking the movement of your tongue.

"You're saying you're willing to die f'me?" his voice turns low, and gentle.

"It's my job."

"Why? Why do this job?"

"It's my only talent," you smile, raising your mug as a mock toast.

"Very funny," he laughs with sarcasm dripping in his voice.

"I don't think... I'm worth all of that." His eyes drop to his lap. 

"I do."

"Michael, your mere presence unites people. Your music is known all over the world. Sure, people will say it's just your job, but who else is making this much of an impact? Doing more than what's expected of you after you leave the stage, or release a song. It's... well, I think it's magic.” He looks back up, his big round eyes shining and vulnerable.

“Sorry. I'm just saying I've become a fan,” you admit, a little embarrassed by your small rambling.

"I think you're drunk," he laughs.

"I can shoot all of these lights out before you could count to 5." You point around the ceiling noting each lightbulb.

“You’re crazy.”

“I’m… conditioned,” you pick out a word that describes you, brutal but honest. 

"Well, don't get too serious about your job. I'm sure someone's waitin' on you to come home.” His eyes make a quick glance to James wiping glasses behind the bar. You scoff and snort at the implication of you even being attached to someone that you’re not contracted to.

"What?"

"I'm not in my own home enough to be someone's home," you smile though it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. 

"I guess I know the feeling…” looking down at his drink.

“How about a dance?" He pivots the conversation sipping on the last of his wine. He slides out the booth and extends a hand to you.

"In this dingy pub, Michael? N-No... that's your thing," you shake your head and keep your hands wrapped around your beer mug.

"Get your butt off that seat before I fire you, Y/N," he jokingly hangs your employment over your head.

“Frank signs my checks,” you remark, not backing down. He groans and throws his head back. 

“Will you just—” waving his open palm to you again.

“Alright! Alright! Jeez, who knew you’d be such a diva,” you quip, wiping your hands over your jeans before taking his hand. He leads you to the open space, keeping your hand in his. Goodbye Yellow Brick Road by Elton John plays in the background as he pulls you close, hands settling on your waist while yours settle on his chest.

“Have you ever lost someone?”

“With this job? No.” 

“But you have…?”

“Yeah, while I was still serving. We were doing a mock mission on a carrier in the middle of the sea.”

“Cole Baker, 22 years old. His nickname was ‘Ace’, he was a smart kid, real meticulous. Everything was routine, everyone had a task to do and to do it right… but somehow he got hurt. Badly,” you recall. “I had to tell his family what happened. He was their youngest, and wanted to make a name for himself and be a pilot.”

“Telling parents their kid got hurt on my watch… It was the hardest thing I had to do,” the sobs of both parents and the anger in his older brother’s voice rings in your ears.

“He was stuck on life support for months until the doctors said they couldn't do anything for him anymore. He never woke up. The family tried to sue me. They did an investigation. I handed in my papers once the verdict said ‘not guilty’.”

“Did his family ever forgive you?” he asks, his hands moving in a small path up and down your back.

“No. I'll never forget how his mom cried after."

“But it wasn't your fault.” His hand comes up to cradle your face, his eyes boring into you trying to reaffirm that semblance of forgiveness.

“To the law’s eyes. But he was my responsibility. I should have done more,” you say, leaning your head against his chest, trying to stop the stinging behind your eyes.

Michael commends the strength you had to go through something so tragic and have to bear the weight of circumstances you couldn’t control. He just wishes that strength can also be shown with tenderness rather than building high walls to mask your pain.

At the end of the night, you argue with Michael who gets to drive back. He steals the keys dangling from your fingers with his quick reflexes and bolts to the car laughing all the way there. You chase him and cackle at the realization he had forgotten the car was a right hand drive and ran straight to the left passenger side. Stomach twisting from laughing so much, you toss him the keys and walk over seeing him pout and blush at embarrassment. 

Thankful that you were the lone car on the road, Michael had time to adjust to the opposite side correcting and swerving here and there.

"Thank you for doing this," Michael stops by his door, leaning against it. He looks at you with soft eyes. Feeling like ‘Thank you’ could barely suffice.

"Good night, Michael." You smile and make your way down to your own room.

He lingers at the hallway for what feels like forever, hand gripping the doorknob. He loses his internal fight when he finally spins around back to you, taking long strides over the hardwood.

You only get a glance of him before he takes you by the hip and crowds you with his body. The action is so quick you don't even notice his hand cradling your head before it hits the door as he pushes into you catching your lips in a scorching kiss. Your gasp dissolves into his lips, then they move in fever to fight for dominance. Pulling you closer to his chest with his large palms spanning your back gripping your shirt to anchor him to the reality of your lips on his.

He breaks away from the kiss with a sigh, trailing his nose over the crook of your neck inhaling your scent. He had been smelling your perfume all night long and finally being able to be this close to your skin clouds his mind with more want. Your eyes close feeling him everywhere around you, encasing you with his warmth.

A whine escapes you once you feel his lips touch the sensitive spot behind your ear. The sound only edges him closer to losing control. 

“I’ll stop if you want me to,” he murmurs, pulling back to rest his forehead on yours. Fighting the urge to bring his lips back to that sweet spot to hear you make a sound for him again.

You shake your head. “Don’t stop, Michael,” you breathe out. Michael doesn’t hesitate to scoop you up from your thighs and you wrap them tightly around his waist as he opens your door and carries you to the bed. 

He settles you on the creaky mattress and fumbles with the buttons of his shirt. You stare up at him, a different aura surrounds him when he keeps his eyes locked on yours tossing his shirt and ridding himself of his jeans. He lowers himself, kneeling between your legs and starts to unbutton your jeans to pull them off. 

You lean in to taste his lips again, tangling your fingers in his hair. He gently unfastens the holster from your chest before he pushes your shirt up and over your head. Leaning back a fraction to admire the newly exposed skin, his long fingers gently pull your face towards him for a soft kiss.

“Are you sure?” he waits for you to back out but you just nod your head again and reach behind you to unclasp your bra. The small fabric falls off your shoulders and Michael can't help but to latch his lips to the soft supple flesh. His imagination couldn’t compare to the real feeling of your skin on his lips. He travels lower and captures your hard nipple in his mouth, taking the other in his large palm massaging it in soft motions. You arch to his hungry touch, hands caught in his hair and breath stuttering. 

He whispers your name against the small valley between your chest, slowly climbing on top of you letting you fall back into the mattress. You take initiative in taking off your soaked panties and his eyes watch fervently as the glistening mound between your legs comes to view. Michael struggles to hold back a pained moan.

“Please let me taste you,” he mercifully pleads, brown eyes blown and dark with want. You can only stare back and nod in your own lust-filled trance, and he wastes no time to settle his face between your thighs.

Spreading you further with his hands, your thighs cage his head in. You gasp and arch when you feel the warm tip of his tongue plunges between your folds, licking a long stripe from your entrance up to your clit. He swirls over the sensitive nub before sucking. Your thighs twitch and shake as he continues to flick over your folds and starts to fuck you with his tongue.

You can’t help but to scream his name when he adds a finger in your dripping hole, his long digits reaching deeper than yours ever could. 

“Oh, God. Michael, please,” you gasp the words feeling the stretch of a second finger pumping into you. He groans, sucking over your clit making a mess over his chin with your arousal. His hips twitch over the mattress thrusting over nothing, getting drunk over your taste.

The curve of his fingers send you over the edge, grabbing the sheets beside you in a vice grip as your orgasm bursts from you.

“That’s it, baby. I have you. I have you,” he kisses your inner thigh, pumping his fingers in a speed that makes you see white. 

Kissing his way up from your stomach, lingering on your chest and settling on your lips. His hardened dick prodding against the band of his underwear, twitches in need while he gives you a taste of your arousal that painted his lips. Breathless and wanting, your lips mend together in symphony. 

“I’m achin’ for you,” he rasps out, humming your name. Your hands clutch his shoulders when he dips his hips against yours, feeling his cock grinding over your still sensitive clit. He moves in slow deep thrusts sending another wave of aching need within you. 

“O-Oh…” he chokes out not noticing your hand had traveled to reach under his waistband and capture his sensitive tip, squeezing. His swollen mauve tip pushes out of the extra skin, precum pooling at the tip. Your thighs wrapped around his waist nudge him to flip the two of you over. Being in a new position of dominance, you help him out of his underwear and straddle his hips again. 

Michael bites his bottom lip, gazing at every curve of your body carving it to memory. His hands roam your thighs and stroke your hips slowly, studying the softness of your skin anywhere he reaches. His eyes make you feel so exposed and shielded at the same time. 

The wordless confession of your bodies needing each other makes Michael reach out to you again. Sitting up and capturing your lips, he pulls you further into his chest needing to have your skin flush to his. His fingers dig into the plump sides of your ass making you grind onto him, both of you groan into the kiss. 

He guides your hips to move faster and you feel yourself get close again, coating his cock with slick arousal. Michael muffles a deep moan against your neck, breathing heavily. 

“God… D-don’t stop. Please, feel s’good…”

“Mike, I– fuck!” you gasp feeling his tip nudge at your entrance before sliding over your folds again. 

“More, Michael… Please,” whining at desperation to be filled with him. 

“Tell me, honey. ‘More’ what?” his silky voice dips to a lower register against your ear. 

“Need you inside, please. God!” His teeth graze the side of your neck, nipping at your sensitive spot. His hand snakes behind your head, urging you to look at him while the other guides himself to your entrance. 

Your mouth drops, lungs constricting at the full stretch of his tip pushing in. He clicks his tongue when your eyes close, getting you to keep looking at him instead. Slowly lowering yourself more, Michael groans from your tight walls enveloping him in warmth. A curse leaves you when you finally bottom out. 

Michael lets you take a moment to get used to the fullness, bringing your lips back to his in a hungry kiss. Testing yourself, you give a shallow lift with your hips. Michael bites your bottom lip earning a whine from you and you slowly lift off of him, feeling every vein from base to tip and sink back down with ease. 

“Oh, baby. I must be dreamin’,” he hums between kisses. His touch grows desperate around your waist as you keep a slow pace on him.

“Dream about me before, Michael?”

“Y-yes… even last night,” he confesses, sealing it with a thrust of his hips up towards yours earning a loud moan from you. You let his hands hold the tempo, fucking up to you so hard. 

“God forgive me,” he mumbles over your shoulder before he switches positions with you, towering over your glistening skin and lifting your hips to thrust in deeper. The bed creaks from each powerful drive of his pelvis and the sheets bundle under your clenched fists. The sloppy squelching of wet skin meshing with both of your moans fill the room all night.

-

A warmth laying over your stomach stirs you awake, slow breaths fanning your neck. Michael’s curls were spread out on the pillows, the early sunlight hitting his serene face still sleeping. Your eyes trace the soft lines of his lips, the curve of his brow and the short stubble starting to cover his chiseled chin. Guilt creeps up your skin scratching to the surface, slowly lifting his arm off you.

Rising from the bed silently thankful it didn’t creak once, gathering your clothes from the floor to start packing. 

"What're you doing?"

“Packing. We can head back to the hotel by noon.”

He calls out your name in a whisper, unsure why you’ve suddenly turned cold.

"Michael, I don't want to get confused on what I'm doing here," you refuse to look at him, zipping your bag closed. Picking up his pants from the floor and setting it beside him before he reaches out for it.

"I'm not confused," he states, pulling the sheets off him and tugs his pants up to his waist.

"Have I done something wrong?" The quiet pain in his voice makes you finally look up at him. Shirtless sitting on the bed, the picture was almost perfect aside from the anguished confused look spread across his features.

"No. Nothing.” Everything felt right. Too right. 

"Then what is it?"

"I did. I did something wrong, Michael. This shouldn't have happened."

"I don't understand. How could you say that? Last night—" He walks over, sick of the distance from you. His warm palm cradles your face trying to find that honesty from your eyes he saw all last night.

"Was a mistake." He flinches.

"Finish packing. I'll see you downstairs," you pull away, and hitch the bag higher on your shoulder closing the door. Leaving the last bit of vulnerability you’ll ever let yourself have with him in that room. 

The car ride was dead silent. Stopping by the inn to give James back his keys and to say goodbye, Michael stays in the car watching you from time to time over the brim of his fedora. His sigh almost sounds like defeat. Not understanding how the perfect night got erased once he opened his eyes this morning. You drive straight to the stadium and drop Michael off to the safe care of Bill who welcomed the singer with a tight hug. He sees the small downturn of his eyes and the tightness of his jaw when he looks back at you climbing back into the car. Learning to mask his concern, he ushers him backstage to his dressing room with an arm around his deflated shoulders.

Heavy pats on the back and hollers erupt when Michael walks into the stage, he smiles meekly ducking his head waving at everybody to keep up appearances. The whole staff bit into the false reports from the news yesterday congratulating him and he couldn’t make up a reason to say they weren’t true. 

From the corner of his eye, he sees you stand off to the edge of the stage talking to Bill in hushed postures. He decides to skip the second to the last song for the night and ends rehearsals early to everyone’s surprise.

Sheryl catches up to him as he trudges to his dressing room.

“Hey, Mike. Congrats on your new sweetheart. Finally caught that fish, huh?” 

He laughs awkwardly, nodding his head only wishing it were true.

“How are you though? I heard there were some problems going around with Frank…”

“Problems?”

“Y’know, the stalker thing,” she whispers leaning closer. “Scary stuff. Frank should never let that happen.” Michael's steps halt turning to her.

“Where did you hear that?”

“From Frank.” Her eyes grow wide, masking concern with something he couldn’t pinpoint.

“Anyway, I hope he takes care of you better, boss. Especially now that you’ve got a girl.” She quickly steps away to join the rest of the singers in their dressing room.

Does she know about you? Why would Frank tell her that? Michael thinks to himself quietly changing clothes in his dressing room before going to the car. 

Bill lets him slide in first before he does and closes the door behind him. Looking at the empty van, he glances at the seats behind him to look for you. 

“She's upfront, Joker,” Bill informs, keeping his voice low. His shoulders deflate a little more, only seeing a fraction of your face sitting at the passenger seat. He wishes he could get a moment with you in private. A conversation forming in his head trying to find the right words to tell you how he feels instead of swallowing them down. 

You jump out of the car before he can call out your name, taking the elevator up to your floor without a second glance. Bill kept pace with him as he tried to catch up before the doors closed but they were both too late. 

He steps into a different elevator and starts to come up with what to say. 

‘Everyone thinks we're together now. Why not give it a shot?’ No, that sounds too silly. ‘I can't forget about last night.’ sounds like he only enjoyed the sex. Bill eyes him silently as the singer sighs in frustration beside him. 

The doors open and he sees you waiting in the hallway. Opening the door with your copy of his key, you let him into the room.

“Be on time tomorrow. I'll meet you two downstairs in the car, same as earlier,” you give your full attention to Bill reminding him of the new protocol. Michael stands idly by, waiting for Bill to leave the two of you in his room. He catches your arm before you could even turn to leave, Bill nods his head to Michael and closes the door behind him.

He says your name in a plea for what feels like the nth time today, slowly letting go of his hold of you. He tries to come up with anything to say but falls short. 

“Will you stay?” 

“I'll be next door,” you plainly say, eyes glued to the ground bruising his heart one more time. He lets you walk out without protest.

On the day of the concert, he barely gets glimpses of you from the edges of a room or the stage. Constantly moving around trying to check spaces and people around without looking suspicious to anyone. The staff and security move in a system to move this machine of a concert at the right pace.

A staff member hands your dress and heels to you and practically shoves you into Michael's dressing room minutes before the show starts. He was in his makeup chair, dressed in his black leather jacket over his silver long sleeve, the buckles over his thighs clinking with each bounce of his restless leg. The makeup artist glances up at you expressionless and continues to dab make up on his face. 

You undress in the corner of the room, not bothering to hide behind the divider folding your clothes in a neat pile on a chair. Michael's eyes watch everything from the reflection on the mirror, his hands clenching around the armrests of his chair willing to give anything in the world to touch you right now. His eyes grow heated when you slowly roll the thin black stockings over your soft legs that he remembers shaking over his cheeks while he tasted you. You step into the dress and pull it over your hips and he can't help but bite his lower lip recalling how they moved over his senselessly chasing your high.

“Michael!” the makeup artist's voice comes out clipped grabbing him from his trance. 

“Hmm?”

“I need your eyes closed to put eyeliner on you, baby,” she claims, voice sickly sweet. 

“Don't call me that,” his round eyes sharpen as they snap to her, glaring at her through the mirror. 

“S-sorry… I'm almost done,” she mumbles when he closes his eyes and lets her finish his makeup.  

“Wanna put some make up on me too, Karla?” You walk over and bend down to Michael's shoulder, checking your reflection in the mirror next to his face. He swallows a gasp when he feels your hand fall on his shoulder, lightly squeezing. 

“It's Karen.”

“Right! Karen…. Karen.” You point feigning innocence and snap your fingers as if remembering something. Michael stifles a laugh and her face clearly twists in annoyance.

“Zip me up, baby?” turning your back towards Michael. You use the same term of endearment earning an eye roll from her and she quickly excuses herself to leave the room. 

His hands slowly take the zipper to pull it up for you. Eyes boring into the smooth skin as it disappears behind the tight black fabric. You catch his stare in the mirror looking at you with a wanting heat, resembling something left in a beach house in the backwoods of Australia. The silence between you drips with an electrified energy. Brushing your hair over your shoulder, he closes the small distance pulling you towards him by your hips and kisses the back of your neck making you gasp.

“I'll be outside,” you pull away and smile but it doesn't reach your eyes, thanking him before leaving him alone in the quiet room. 

New York, March 1988

A loud knock greets you in the morning. Using the peephole you see Frank waiting behind it holding a garment bag. You unlock and open the door. Without any greeting, he passes you the material.

“We’re going to the Grammy's tonight. Be ready by 6,” he tells you not even giving you a chance to ask questions before he turns on his heel and walks away. Huffing and taking whatever he handed to you inside, you hang it by the door and unzip it. It was a black dress that had gold chains and jewels wrapping around the chest and shoulders. A big jewel at the center of the low neckline, surrounded by small diamonds and gold broaches on each hip with more chains framing the hips. 

Groaning at the grandiose styling, you shake your head and try to figure out how to conceal your gun under this dress.

Frank takes you to the awards show as his guest to keep you close to Michael for the night. You both enter his private dressing room to wait for him to arrive. A knock sounds at the door and it slowly opens. A slender woman with tanned skin peaks in, her smile falters for a second when she only sees you and Frank inside.

“Tatiana! Ready for the big show, sweetheart?” Frank warmly welcomes her in, hugging her to his side and she laughs, pasting her smile a little longer. She doesn't bother to introduce herself to you and keeps her attention to Frank, languidly smiling and laughing along to whatever he says.

Your eyes scan the room, taking note of the amount of bouquets of congratulations spread all around the room. One in particular catches your eye, a large arrangement of black roses shaped into a heart stood out. Walking slowly you reach for the folded card stuck to the middle of it, lifting the tab slowly you hear a soft click and turn your head towards the door. The sound of sparks going off makes you turn back to the flowers just as it bursts into flames. Stepping back you take a base nearby and toss the flowers in it aside to dump the water on the slowly growing fire.

“Oh my god!” is screeched behind you and you turn to see Tatiana clinging to Michael at the doorway witnessing the whole scene. He brushes her off and runs to you, pulling you away from the still smoking bundle of petals and ash.

“Are you alright? What happened?” He asks concerned, eyes searching you for any injuries.

“I'm alright. This must've been another attempt by them. I have to tell O’Hare,” you slip your hands from his and grab the phone. The phone call doesn’t last long when he tells you he’s close to tracking the suspect down. For precaution, you and Bill take the rest of the bouquets or anything non-essential out of the room while Michael gets ready for the stage.

The incident makes everyone cautious—another threat slipping past security. Frank doesn't want to risk it and makes you do the number with Michael and pulls a fuming Tatiana out of the room.

“You look beautiful by the way,” Michael compliments, walking up to you studying how the gold embellishments compliment your waist and shoulders.

“We have to be careful, Michael. They could still be around here waiting for another opportunity,” trying to brush off the compliment but the heat in your cheeks betray you when he keeps staring at your bare neck. He just nods, wrapping one hand around your waist pulling you close. His other hand cradles your cheek making your eyes close.

“I'll be careful if you'll be too,” his deep voice fills your ears and places a kiss on your forehead. He hasn't had you this close to him since that first show in Australia and he wishes he could make this moment last longer but a staff member calling the minutes before showtime outside breaks the intimate bubble. 

You follow Michael out the room and take a spot by the stage, careful not to interrupt the crew or cameras. The stage lights go out and Michael takes his spot behind the large screen, an eruption of applause sounds off as they announce his performance and the lights reveal his silhouette. 

Your eyes scan each movement around the stage, observing people's hands and watching for any suspicious movement. A staff member signals for you to enter the stage and plaster a smile on your face like a routine. The ten second spotlight moment ends and you rush to exit the stage and bump into someone. 

Strong hands steady you by the arms and you immediately apologize and look up. A familiar face smiles back at you, crooked and awkward.

“Greg!” you gasp, seeing your old friend from the service unexpectedly. 

“Quite the career change,” Greg playfully taunts you, making you laugh as his hands release your arms.

“I would've thought you would take this job,” you wonder, recalling the conversation with Captain O'Hare. 

“I guess my legs were too big,” he awkwardly laughs and you roll your eyes. He steps to the side almost bumping into a crew member and his hands fidget with the lapels of his black suit, like a nervous tick. A drop of sweat clings to his brow.

“Everything been good? A lot of us hadn't heard from you in a while,” you ask, remembering a few stories about his disappearance into Las Vegas and troubles with gambling. You adjust your earpiece and look at him again, his throat bobs as he shrugs his shoulders. The static in your ear  sounds as you hear Bill’s voice checking in on you from the other side of the stage. You nod at him and confirm your position. 

“Got a job now, don't I? Hey, I'll see you around, alright?” Greg slips away before you could even reply, blending in with the bodies of busy people backstage.

‘Man In the Mirror’ starts to play and you watch the audience, Michael and then the crew around the stage in routine as the performance continues.

The song is nearly over and you approach the small opening where Michael should exit when you spot a figure running behind the choir onstage. Without thinking, you sprint to the front of the stage straight for Michael who had his back towards the audience with his arms spread out. 

You shout his name as you push through people keeping an eye on the rushing figure and spot him cocking a gun. 

“Get down!” you yell, grabbing your gun from your thigh. Michael sees you before he notices the gunman. A shot goes off just as you reach him. A hot stinging sensation blooms on your thigh. 

The loud shot echoes in the auditorium and everyone starts to scramble. Shielding Michael with your body, you let him duck behind you while you try to find the shooter. 

Keeping the gun steady in your hands as people run left and right across the stage, you catch Greg off to the side aiming at you. 

You pull the trigger and it hits him on the shoulder, throwing him off balance and he falls off the stage disappearing from the edge. You lower your gun and look back at Michael, checking him for injuries. 

Michael stutters your name in a panic watching as the blood trickles down your leg and starts to drip on the floor. The stage lights blind you as you look around to watch for any other threats. People rushed to the back of the auditorium trying to get to the exits but one person was pushing to get to the stage. You lose sight of him as another spotlight hits your eyes. 

“You’re supposed to be dead!”

Finding where the yell came from, you lift your gun again. One hand bracing to keep Michael behind you as another shot goes off. Something hot hits your left shoulder. You find the man with the gun and shoot him right on the head, taking him down. 

Michael yells your name, catching you before you fall to the ground. Clutching you in his lap as you lose strength on your limbs. People rush around and scream, but the sound barely registers in your ears. 

"He's bleeding!" someone yells approaching you both. 

"It's not me! It's not me!" Michael yells, staring at your blood all over his hands. 

“I'm okay, Sunshine,” you smile up at him, his large eyes fill with tears. 

“I'm sorry. Oh, God. I'm so sorry,” Michael cries into your shoulder, his sobs ring at your ear before everything goes dark.

[maturehotgf]

u have a wet dream while sharing the bed with pervy michael👀

(18+) oh yess i like this one! because of course even when your with michael you still fantasize about the things he does to you and what more you want him to do to you.

michael knew you touched yourself to the thought of him, you never told him because you were always embarrassed by it.

it wasn't something you were proud of but when he wasn't around what could you do? you had to relieve this feeling in some way.

the dreams you had of him were so intense that you would sometimes have them while you guys were in bed sleeping.

like one summer night, you guys were out of school on break and you and michael were at your house sleeping skin to skin just the way michael liked it and of course you enjoyed it also. you couldn't get enough of michael, if you could live in his skin you would in heartbeat.

it was very hot, i mean it was almost 96 degrees in encino. you guys had the ceiling fan, regular fan and ac running all at the same time but some how it was just not cooling down so why not sleep naked?

that's how michael thought of it at least.

while you guys were sleeping peacefully, you started to dream about a fantasy with michael that you've had for a while and it had something to do with his ties and the library.

you guys were sitting at the library that was located at your school just you and him, studying quietly. it was after school no one was there and it was basically locked up because you worked for the school also so you had the keys. while you guys were studying, you eyed at michael's tie and you were staring at it for a while with a thought of him fucking you in his tie. it was a naughty thought. you would've never thought you would even have a thought like that in mind ever because you were so innocent. at least that's what you wanted yourself to believe. michael felt your eyes burning at his chest and decided to look up from the textbook you guys were reading and saw the look of desperation on your face. he smirked and bit his lips then put his thigh on your lap which the coldness of his touch snapped you out of the daze. you jumped up slightly and cleared your throat. "sorry." you said lowly and a little embarrassed by the thoughts that was going through your hand. he laughed lightly and kept running his hand up and down your leg. "what's wrong sweets? you got something on your mind?" he asked scooting his chair closer to you while his other hand started playing in your hair. you nodded your head and bit your lip trying to stall from saying what was on your mind but michael wasn't going to let you and you knew it. he stood up from the chair and stood behind you and hovered over you to whisper in your ear. "tell me sweets, you know you can tell me anything." he said while he kissed you softly on the cheek. you shudder under him and began expressing your need. "i- i want you to um to do me with your tie on right here." you said feeling a weight lifted on your chest and a puddle leaked in your underwear. he laughed softly and lifted you up from the chair to put you on the table. "awe, that's what you want sweets? you want that from your mikey?" he said going in between your legs kissing your neck. you moaned softly at the touch his lips "y-yes mikey please." you pleaded knowing if you said please he was going to do it without a doubt. he lifted from your neck then begam untying his tie to tie the tie around your neck. he began take off your underwear and unbuckling his pants to strip himself down including his boxers. you wrapped your legs around his torso to position yourself closer to him. he leaned you back on the table to where your elbows were now touching the wood table. he started inserting himself inside you inch by inch until he bottomed all the way out to where you can see him in your stomach.

"oh mikey'' you moaned unintentionally while you were now laying on your back getting lost into the dream you were having.

michael heard this while he was turned away from you and opened his eyes slowly to make sure what he hearing was correct.

you continued moaning and in the process you were touching yourself also imagining it was michael inside you on that table. "oh my god yes please mikey right there keep fucking me right there." you said confindentally which shock michael to turn around and watch you.

he watched you in awe at you squirming at the thought of him which turned him on himself. he never heard you curse during sex at all or in general and also it made him wonder if that's what you were doing when he wasn't around which would really make him cum right there.

while you were dazed and unaware, he lifted himself up slowly trying not wake you and began going under the covers to stroke himself at the image in front of him.

as you kept getting deeper and deeper into the dream, he pumped harder and harder. he reached over slowly at your free hand and made you stroke him with him.

the scene alone you would of think came from a porno but it really didn't. it just how dirty and perverted you guys were. you probably didn't want to accept that but it was the truth.

michael started to lean his head back into the headboard as you guys masturbated together, he took his free hand and rubbed on your clit with you also as you guys were getting ready to come to your climax together.

"mikey i'm about to cum. cum with me. cum in me please" you moaned as if he was really inside you but the dream had you distracted from reality right now and you honestly didn't want to leave until you were done.

michael responsded back to you with his eyes clenched close now basically using your hand to fuck into. "i'm cumming i'm going to cum inside you sweets. all for my sweets." he moaned while grinded into your hand.

you and him came at the exact same time. your legs were shaking with sweat coming down all over your body while your heart was almost beating outside your chest.

you opened your eyes slowly after a feeling of hot liquid spilled over in your hand and you see michael riding his orgasm out in your hand.

you smile and lift up slightly to lick the cum that was leaking out of the tip his dick and licked till it was cleaned up.

he twitched a little bit at the sensitivity but he was okay once you were done.

you guys began to lay back down and now your back was against his chest and he was close to your ear. "is that what you do when your not around me baby?" he asked lowly.

you smiled lazily "yeah all the time." you answered.

''next time you call me and tell me about your dreams okay baby? mikey can't make you feel good if you don't tell me.'' he said demanded.

you nodded your head very sleepily "okay mikey, i'll tell you." you said slowly drifting off.

"will you tell me in the morning?" michael asked really needing to know so he can add it to his perverted ways to corrupt you even more.

you responded "yes, mikey i'll tell you in the morning okay? i'm sleepy." you said trying to go back to sleep.

he chuckled softly and held you tighter. "okay i'm sorry baby, good night my good girl.” while he started making his way to sleep.

"my pretty girl"

[viviannnie]

"dear you".. OH hell nah, michael, you're not helping with our delusions.

so he's basically sponsoring and approving our y/n fantasies.. gotcha, babe.