summary: Your silent treatment is driving Michael insane, and he’ll do whatever it takes just to get your attention.
꧁⎝ 𓆩༺✧༻𓆪 ⎠꧂
The silence in the house was louder than any stadium crowd Michael had ever performed in front of- and it was driving him absolutely out of his mind.
༻✦༺
It had started yesterday afternoon over something that, in hindsight, Michael desperately wished he could undo. You had every right to be mad at him. He’d made a careless promise, completely forgot about it due to a last-minute schedule change, and left you waiting for hours without a word. When he finally walked through the door with an apology on his lips, you hadn’t yelled. You hadn't thrown anything.
You had just looked at him, shut your bedroom door, and locked in a terrifying, impenetrable wall of silence.
And now? The silent treatment was in full effect.
༻✦༺
Every single movement you made became a high-stakes obstacle course for him. When you woke up and walked down the hallway toward the kitchen, Michael was right behind you, hovering like a nervous, guilt-ridden shadow. He literally tiptoed on the balls of his feet behind you, wincing at every tiny squeak of the floorboards, holding his breath every time you paused.
When you reached the kitchen to make coffee, he immediately darted to the cupboard to grab your favorite mug before you could reach it. He presented it with both hands, offering a sheepish, dimpled smile, his eyebrows knit together in pitiful, pleading arches. You didn't even acknowledge the mug. You simply reached around his slender frame, pulled a completely different cup from the shelf, and poured your coffee in total, agonizing quiet.
༻✦༺
"Baby? Please?" he tried, his voice barely above a whisper as he followed you to the living room, sliding onto the far edge of the sofa while you opened a book. "I'm really, really sorry. You know I didn't mean to"
You didn't even blink. You just turned the page, the crisp snap of the paper sounding like a tiny thunderclap in the quiet room.
Michael let out a soft, dramatic groan, dropping his head onto the sofa cushions. He shifted, crawling on his hands and knees across the rug until he was resting his chin on your knee, looking up at you with wide, glassy brown eyes.
"I'll do whatever you want," he wheedled softly, reaching up to gently tug on the hem of your shirt with two fingers. "You want me to cook dinner? I'll cook. I'll burn the kitchen down, but I'll do it. You want me to massage your feet? I'll do it all day. Just... look at me? Please? Just one tiny glance?"
You slowly lifted the book higher, completely blocking his face from view.
Michael’s bottom lip stuck out in a full, sulky pout. He sat back on his heels, crossing his arms over his chest, muttering under his breath like a rejected toddler before scrambling up to brainstorm his next move.
༻✦༺
Desperate, Michael bought the most extravagant bouquet of your favourite flowers he could possibly find. When the arrangement arrived, he took it at the door and practically bounced back into the room. He presented them to you like a golden retriever bringing back a prize, holding the massive burst of blossoms in front of his face so only his wide, hopeful eyes peered over the top.
"I got these for you" he said softly, his voice trembling slightly with nervous energy. "They're your favorite. Aren't they pretty? Almost as pretty as you..."
You took the flowers, set them flat on the kitchen counter without looking at the attached card, and gave him a brief, lukewarm glance.
"Thank you," you said. Two words. Flat. Cold.
Then you turned right back around to pour a glass of water, leaving him standing there in total, unadulterated agony.
༻✦༺
By evening, Michael couldn't take it anymore. The frustration, the aching longing, and his own dramatic nature had officially boiled over. He was a man who lived on raw emotion, and being shut out by the person he loved most was pure torture.
You were in the living room, folding a throw blanket, when Michael suddenly stepped right into your path. When you tried to step to the left, he sidestepped to the left. When you moved right, he blocked you again, spreading his arms out wide like a goalkeeper.
"Michael, move," you muttered, keeping your gaze fixed firmly on his chest instead of his face.
"No," he said, his voice a chaotic mix of a childish whine and a firm, desperate demand. "No, I'm not moving! You have to talk to me! You've been ignoring me for twenty-four whole hours, and it's killing me. You're driving me crazy! Please, just yell at me! Scream at me! Throw a pillow at my head! Do whatever you want, but stop acting like I'm invisible!"
You finally snapped your head up to look at him, shoving your hands onto your hips. The sight of his messy curls, his wide, desperate eyes, and the sulky, petulant set of his jaw almost broke your resolve, but you held your ground.
"You want me to talk to you?" you snapped, your voice sharp enough to slice through the air.
"Fine! You were so inconsiderate, Michael! I waited for hours. You couldn't take ten seconds to have someone make a phone call? My time matters too, you know! I was sitting here worried sick, thinking something terrible had happened to you, only to find out you just forgot! I was hurt, and I have every right to be angry with you! You're lucky I didn't pack my bags and leave, that's what I've done to every other man who's disrespected me like that before!"
Michael didn't even care that you were scolding him-his face practically lit up like a Christmas tree just hearing your voice directed at him again. He nodded rapidly, taking a cautious, slow step closer, his hands raised in absolute surrender.
"I know, I know! You're completely right!" he pleaded softly, his demeanor instantly softening from sulky to deeply earnest as he saw the genuine exhaustion and lingering hurt behind your anger. "I was stupid and careless, and I hate that I made you feel like that. I hate it. I swear I'll make it up to you. I'm so, so sorry, beautiful. Truly, truly sorry. Please don't be mad at me anymore, I can't take it... please?"
He took another timid step forward, reaching out with just the tips of his fingers to catch the edge of your wrist. When you didn't pull away, his hope doubled. His hand slid down, his fingers gently wrapping around yours, holding on like a lifeline. He lowered his head slightly, peering up at you through his dark lashes, his lower lip trembling just a fraction.
"I hate when you look at me like you don't even know me. I'll do anything, lovey. I'll clear my entire schedule for a month, I'll stay right here with you, I'll never forget a single thing ever again. Just please forgive me... please?"
Hearing the raw, desperate remorse in his quiet voice, your shoulders finally dropped. The tight, painful coil of anger in your chest began to loosen, melting away under his earnest, unblinking gaze. You let out a long, heavy sigh, running your free hand over your face.
"You really drive me crazy sometimes, Michael," you grumbled, though the biting edge in your tone was officially gone.
Michael’s eyes widened slightly, catching the sudden soften in your posture. He held his breath, his hands still clutching yours, completely frozen as he tried to gauge if it was really safe to push his luck. He chewed nervously on his bottom lip, his gaze dropping to your mouth, then darting back up to your eyes. He swallowed hard, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, looking terribly small and hesitant despite his height.
"Are... are you still really mad?" he murmured carefully, testing the air. "Or just... a little bit mad?"
"I'm still annoyed," you said, trying to maintain a stern line with your lips.
Michael gave a tiny, tentative tug on your hand, pulling you a mere inch closer. He bit his lip again, his face flushing a faint shade of pink as he hesitated, clearly terrified of ruining the fragile peace he had just won back.
"..Can I..." he started, his voice dropping into a breathless, barely audible whisper. He paused, searching your face for any sign of rejection, his dark eyes wide and pleading. "...Can I have a kiss?" he finally blurted out softly, looking so painfully sweet and uncertain that it almost made you laugh. "Just one? Please?"
You closed your eyes for a second like you were physically bracing yourself, then finally looked at him. The look you gave him was unreadable, but it didn’t stop you from leaning across the tiny space and pressing a quick kiss to his lips anyway. It was brief, barely even a second, a light peck-and the moment it was over, you were already pulling away and turning your head like nothing happened.
Michael went completely still beside you for a second, then let out a small, disbelieving laugh under his breath.
“I got a kiss,” he said softly, a brilliant glow washing over his features, and you immediately groaned and hid your face in your hand.
“Don’t get ahead of yourself, i'm still mad” you warned, but your voice wasn’t nearly as firm as you wanted it to be.
And Michael, standing right there in the living room, just leaned in close with a triumphant smile that made it very clear he knew exactly what he was doing to you, completely overjoyed that he was finally out of the doghouse.
SYNOPSIS: it's your wedding reception and you decide to make michael's night a little difficult with the pictures you've taken beforehand.
CONTENT: 18+ mdni, suggestive content, brief mention of food play, some fluff
AUTHOR'S NOTE: HIGHEST GROSSING BIOPIC OF ALL TIME!! IM SO PROUDDD posting this in celebration. this is based off of that one trend on tiktok where the bridesmaids would give spicy pics of the bride to the groom throughout the reception and i just thought it would be fun to write.
WORD COUNT: 1,931
Michael’s a little on edge.
You’d think after the main wedding ceremony, he’d be a little more relaxed but no. In fact, he’s even more nervous.
And excited.
But mostly nervous.
You see, after the officiant said the words “you may now kiss the bride” and the two of you ran down the aisle with beaming smiles on your faces, you had pulled Michael to the side and whispered in his ear that you had a little surprise for him.
And judging from the way you purred it seductively, he figured it was something a little… naughty, if you will.
It was your wedding reception now and he couldn’t shake off the thought of what your surprise would be. Even with all the speeches by his family and special performances by his friends done right in front of him with you by his side, it was the only thing that lingered in his mind. Did you wear something for him underneath your dress? Maybe it was one of those three-piece sets that he really likes. Shit, he was getting worked up just thinking about it.
He was now sitting back on his chair, watching you enjoy yourself on the dance floor with your friends, a loving smile plastered on his face. He liked watching you have fun and live in the moment. It was one of his favorite things to do.
He suddenly feels a tap on his shoulder and he turns to find Cindy, one of your bridesmaids. “Hey, Mike,” she greets. He notices how the corner of her mouth was twitching, almost as if she was holding back a grin.
Michael smiles at her politely. “Hey, what’s up?”
Cindy holds out her hand which was holding what looked like a printed photo faced down. “She wanted me to give you this,” she says, jerking her head towards you on the dance floor. Michael glances in your direction to find you watching with small smile on your face. When your gazes meet, you give him a wink and take a sip from your champagne glass before turning back to your friends.
Michael gulps before turning back to Cindy and taking the photo from her hand. “What is this?” The woman only shrugs in response, waving her hand to urge him to take a look at the picture before walking away, giggling.
His brows furrow together. Was this your surprise? A photo?
He turns it in his hand to take a look.
When he gets a glimpse of it, his eyes widen and his face heats up. He immediately holds the picture to his chest, looking around him in slight panic to see if anyone was looking. When he confirms that no one was there to see the contents of it, he slowly brings it up to his view.
Fuck, he was doomed.
It’s a photograph of you in bed on your side, leaning on your elbow as you stare seductively at the camera. You were wearing a black lace lingerie set that flattered you in the best way possible and your legs were wrapped in a black stocking which was being held up by the garter on your thighs.
God, you looked good. Michael finds himself swallowing the saliva that had pooled inside his mouth. He looks up from the photo to take a deep breath. He had to look away before a rather big problem would arise. He shakily stores it in the inside pocket of his suit jacket and as he does, he catches your eye from across the room.
You’re smiling at him from behind your champagne glass and it takes everything in him to prevent himself from walking over and pulling you into an empty room. So, this was what you wanted. To get him worked up on the night of your wedding reception. He shakes his head at you and lets out a nervous laugh, bringing a hand up to his forehead to dab at the bead of sweat that had formed.
This was going to be a long night.
--
The flavor you chose for the wedding cake was good, Michael thought.
Strawberry shortcake. He liked strawberries.
The cream was really nice too. Smooth, decadent.
But as he stares at the plate in his hands, all he could picture was you. Maybe you’d like it if he sprayed some whipped cream on your body and he slowly licked-
No, it was getting out of hand now.
He had originally grabbed a piece of cake to maybe take his mind off of the picture that was given to him a few minutes ago. But to no avail, evidently.
He was chewing on a strawberry slice when another one of your bridesmaids approach him. He recognizes this one as Lara, the one that liked to invite you to parties a lot. “Michael!” she greets as she skips over, seeming to be a little tipsy with the slightly dazed look in her eyes.
He nods at her, swallowing the food in his mouth. “Hey,” he replies.
Then she holds both of her palms out.
Oh.
Another printed photograph. It’s face down.
He blinks at the sight of it.
“Your wife wanted you to see this.”
Wife.
Right, you were his wife now. He thinks he’d love getting used to calling you that.
He clears his throat and chuckles out of nervousness before he takes the photo. “Oh, god. She’s gonna kill me.” The woman only laughs before walking away with a skip in her step.
Michael takes a rather big bite of cake in attempt to calm himself down before he flips the picture over. And when he does, he inhales way too quickly which causes the food in his mouth to go down the wrong pipe. He gets into a coughing fit, hastily hitting his fist against his chest.
When he finally manages to swallow properly, he tries to catch his breath before taking another look at the photo.
You were on all fours on the bed this time. But instead of you resting on your hands, you rested on your elbows which accentuated the arch in your back and the curve of your ass even more. You were wearing a different set now, it was a lot thinner, a lot skimpier. It looked like you had applied some body oil as well which made you look ethereal with the way the light reflected on your smooth skin.
He was right.
You were gonna be the death of him tonight.
--
“So, how about that new album?”
“Ah- I already have song ideas but… I don’t really know yet, Q.”
“Songs about your wife, I presume?”
Michael feels his face heat up at that question. He looks down at his shoes and giggles shyly. Actually, he already had written out so many songs for you but he hasn’t perfected them yet. “Yeah… I haven’t finished them yet though,” he replies, scratching at his cheek.
Quincy chuckles, holding up his champagne glass to take a sip. He eyes you from across the room as you chat with his sister, Janet, who also happens to be one of your bridesmaids. You two have gotten quite close since the beginning of your relationship with Michael. “She’s a keeper, you know,” he utters, shifting his gaze back to the man in front of him.
Michael follows his gaze and smiles as he watches you grin and laugh with his sister. “I know… It’s why I married her.”
Then as if you felt his stare, your head turns to look directly at him. He watches as you whisper something to Janet before she too looks at him and starts pulling you with her to his direction. He swallows, already sensing some trouble with the way his sister was looking at him mischievously.
“Michael! Talking business on your wedding day? Seriously!” Janet playfully scolds before shifting her gaze to Quincy. “Q, can you give us a moment?” The man relents, raising his hands in surrender before backing out.
You step forward and wrap your arms around your husband’s shoulders and he almost automatically brings his hands up to your waist. You smile up at him. “Hi,” you utter, your eyes shining. Michael chuckles, placing a kiss on your nose.
“Hey, you.”
“Oh, you two are too adorable!”
You both look to the side abruptly, almost forgetting that you weren’t alone. You pull away but Michael keeps one of his hands on your waist. Janet immediately puts her hand up to her mouth and says, “Oh- sorry. I ruined it, didn’t I?” She laughs. But then she reaches into the pocket of her skirt and brings out what seems to be another photograph and holds it out to him.
Michael curses silently and turns back to you, “You are out to get me,” he says as he takes the photo in his hands. You only smile cheekily and shrug in response but he realizes something. “Wait- why my sister?”
Janet seems to take offense to that and swats his arm. “Excuse you! We’re close friends and mind you I gave her the idea so you should be thanking me!” she exclaims, crossing her arms. The two siblings start to bicker playfully as they always do and you watch fondly. Michael was thankful for his close-knit relationship with his siblings, especially Janet. He was glad when you and her started hanging out together often when he had initially introduced you to his family.
“Say thank you!”
“Alright, alright! Thank you, Dunk. I’ll even send a gift basket to show my appreciation.”
“Good!” Janet then leaves the two of you to do your thing, sending a wink your way which you laugh and shake your head at.
Michael turns back to you, still holding the picture in his hand. He hasn’t looked at it yet. “So, this is your surprise huh? You vixen.” He sets his hands back onto your waist, looking down at you with slightly darkened eyes.
You smile up at him, bringing your hands up to play with the collar of his shirt. “You like them though, right? The pictures?”
He scoffs and bites his lip, his hands gently squeezing around your waist. “I’m doing everything in my power to control myself right now.” You like that answer. He can tell with the excited glint in your eye. He sees you eye the photo in his hand before looking back up at him with a smirk.
“That one’s my favorite, take a look.”
He tsks and narrows his eyes at you before pulling away. He looks around, once again making sure that no one was behind him to get even a peek of what's in the image. He glances back at you and shakes his head when he sees you watching in anticipation with your head tilted and your arms behind your back. “Temptress,” he says, making you laugh. He looks down at the photo.
His first thought was that he was definitely not going to hold himself back once you two get back to that hotel room.
He understands why this one was your favorite.
Shit, it might be his too.
Your bare back was facing the camera but your head was turned to the side, a seductive smile on your lips. The sheets around you were pooled at your hips and your curves were on full display for him. But despite how absolutely stunning you looked, Michael’s eyes went directly to what was on your lower back, just above the curve of your ass.
⟡ summary: when you go to the studio with michael for one of his recording sessions, he finds himself distracted by the skirt you're wearing.
⟡ relationship: thriller era!michael (technically pre-thriller but who cares) x fem! reader
⟡ tags: smut (mdni), established relationship, slightly dom!michael, needy!michael, dry humping, making out, oral sex (f receiving), p in v sex, creampie, slight hair pulling, they are both lowkey obsessed
wc: 2.6k
a/n: so this is my first michael fic and first post from this blog... lets see how this goes. also i wrote this in a day and proofread (by proofread i mean skimmed over) maybe once, so lets just ignore the fact that it might be bad. rome wasn't built in a day but my fanfics definitely are! ok enjoy
more about me
It was pure agony.
Michael’s eyes had spent all day running up and down your legs. You were leaning on the wall, one leg slightly bent, the low lighting casting a perfect shine that only seemed to tease (and frustrate) him more. It was a trail that led higher and higher, got his hopes up, then disappeared into the darkness of your skirt. The fact that he couldn't reach his hands under there made him clench his jaw.
Thankfully nobody could tell where his eyes lingered because of his dark sunglasses, but everybody had noticed how significantly distracted he was today.
Quincy cleared his throat. “Michael, just… whenever you’re ready.”
Michael shook his head slightly, as if to will away a thought. In a low voice, he muttered, “Yeah, yeah, sorry.”
You tilted your head slightly. Michael was always on his game and you knew that, even if this was your first time watching him in the studio. Thriller was almost complete and you figured that he might like some encouragement for the home stretch, so you came with him for today’s session.
You wondered if he was upset about something from the way his jaw kept clenching, but you really couldn’t tell because of his shades. Maybe he was always like this when he was working? No, that didn’t seem right…
As he started to sing, though, all of your worries vanished, and you could only think about one thing.
You loved him when he sang. The way he got lost in it. The way his hands clenched around his headphones, accentuating the veins in his hands and arms. The way when, if he had been singing long enough, a sheen of sweat coated his skin and gave him a slight glow, like an angel. Luckily for you, this was one of those times. God, this was torture. You wished you could just go in there and let him have his way with–
Quincy’s voice snapped you out of your thoughts. “Alright. Michael, let’s give you a break and go for lunch.”
“Quincy, I can keep going.” He spoke with a frown, and his voice sounded slightly wrecked, carried a note of desperation. You raised an eyebrow. Okay, something was up.
“No negotiations, you need a prime vocal performance for Thriller. Don’t sweat it, man. We got time.”
Defeated, Michael took his headphones off and made his way out of the recording booth. The sound engineers started talking quietly about where to go for lunch as you stepped out to meet him.
“Michael, baby, you did great,” you cooed as you pulled him in for a hug. He smelt delicious, like his signature cologne mixed with his natural musk. His hands settled respectfully on your lower back, causing something low in your stomach to heat up despite wishing his hands were lower. Always a gentlemen, Michael.
He had a real cool smile on his face that morphed into a giddy grin when he heard the compliment. Faces inches apart, you could see a slight blush painted on his cheeks.
His voice was featherlight, but oddly low. “Come on, it wasn’t that great. I mean, we had to keep redoing the same part over and over ‘cause I was so out of it…”
“Still,” you whisper-spoke, your hand rubbing slight circles in the nape of his neck. “You sounded amazing.”
For a second, there was a look in his eyes that seemed vaguely familiar to you. Like he was hungry. Just as he was about to lean in for a kiss, people came piling out of the control room. Michael, being as shy as he was, jumped away slightly and opted for just holding your hand in front of the crowd. You silently cursed the interruption.
Quincy came out, laughing about something before telling the two of you, “We all goin’ over to Sal’s for lunch. Y’all comin’?”
“What do you think, baby?” You asked softly. “You been real working hard–”
“No, I think we’re good, Quince. We’ll just, uh, chill here for a bit.” Michael’s voice was the epitome of forced casualness.
Quincy started down the hall. “Suit yourselves. And I mean it Michael, let that voice rest,” he called over his shoulder, leaving with a friendly wave.
The moment the hallway was cleared out, you turned to Michael and asked all concerned-like, “Somethin’ wrong? I thought you might want to eat?”
You noticed he was breathing real deep, like he was breathless but trying to hide it. You really couldn’t get a read on him, so you moved his sunglasses to rest on his head, sweeping his hair back slightly and leaving you to look at his eyes. His gaze was jumping all over, to your eyes, your lips, your neck, and down…
“Baby…” he sighed dreamily before closing the space between you, eliciting a startled sound from your mouth.
His lips moved deeply and desperately. Usually your makeouts didn’t start out this way; they always started slow and soft and morphed into something needier, but you weren’t complaining. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t daydreaming about this all day.
Despite the shock, your body melted into the kiss and your hands searched for something to hold onto so you wouldn’t collapse into the earth. You grasped at Michael’s hair, tugging slightly. He whimpered slightly into your mouth at the sensation, and gently pushed you against the wall.
Pressed up against you like this, Michael’s hard-on was pleasingly rutted against your inner thigh. When you thought you couldn’t get any wetter, you were suddenly soaked.
Michael found a rhythm with his hips easily, of course. He moved in slow but deep movements against you. His hands found the plushness of your ass and kneaded it gently with his big hands. He let out the most beautiful noises, moaning and breathing shakily against the area just below your jaw. He was touching all the right places, leaving the heat in your stomach to increase steadily.
“Mikey…” you gasped out, holding his head against your jaw. “What’s–” you giggled. “What’s all this about?”
The man against you was a wreck, with sweat dripping down his neck and the veins in his arms more prominent than ever. He humped against you like it was solving world hunger.
He kissed up your jaw a bit until his mouth found your ear. His breath ghosted softly against it, sending a chill down your spine and causing you to jerk your hips into him slightly.
“When I was recording,” he muttered shakily, “I couldn’t–God, I couldn’t stop staring at you, and your pretty legs, imagining what you would look like under me while you’re wearin’ that pretty skirt…”
Holy fuck. You didn’t even know how to respond. Instead, you kissed him fervently, drinking up every little noise he let into your mouth and exhaling it right back into his.
You could have stayed there forever. Humping each other in the hallway, desperate, depraved, panting. Your dry humping became anything but dry. The air around you was filled up with the heat radiating from your bodies and the sounds that escaped your lips.
Begrudgingly, Michael pulled away from you (not without a whimper of protest), took your hand, and led you inside the control room. The door clicked shut behind him. He pushed you up against the controls and you giggled softly, looking deep into his sweet eyes.
“We gonna do this on the controls? Really?”
He bit his lip and smiled, his adams apple bobbing as he looked down at you. He adjusted his erection slightly in his pants, and you gulped.
“You got a better place, baby?”
Well shit, he’s got a point.
He leaned down to kiss you some more, his hands traveling to the hem of your shirt and lifting it up to reveal a cute lacy bra underneath. His mouth began to make its way down the center of your body as his hands grasped at your breasts. He kissed your neck, your chest, down your abdomen and onto the sweet, sweet spot just above your skirt and just below your belly button. You sighed and threw your head back, pleasure overtaking you. You looked back down to take in the lovely sight before you: Michael, kneeled before you and gazing at you like he was praying to a goddess. One curl fell loose from its carefully styled spot and dangled on his forehead.
“You’re beautiful,” he sighed dreamily against your lower stomach. “Beautiful, beautiful.”
He flipped your skirt up and went right to kissing your inner thigh.
“Oh my–Michael…” This was driving you crazy. His breath against your pussy was just enough to rile you up but not near enough for you to be satisfied. He always took his time down there, kissing and sucking and and looking up at you–
“Mikey, please, come on baby…” you pleaded, not able to handle it anymore.
He smiled, trying to look all cute, but you could tell he secretly loved how much he was teasing you.
“Okay, okay.”
Ever so gently, he pulled your damp lacy panties down until they were wrapped around your ankles, just above your baby blue flats. He hooked his arms around your thighs and lifted your legs so that they were dangling off his shoulders. Then, in one tantalizing sweep, he licked from bottom to top, and you swear you saw the gates of heaven.
You leaned back, gasping at the ceiling as your hips bucked into his mouth and one hand grasped at his hair. His tongue worked wonders on your clit, the perfect amount of pressure and movement. He licked up and down your folds while he massaged your thighs. Electricity coursed all throughout your body. He ate you out like you were his last meal; his tongue curling hungrily, gasping, his nose nuzzling your clit. His hips thrusted, desperately looking for friction in his jeans but to no avail.
“Ba–baby,” you choked out, at a complete loss for words. You could feel him smiling smugly against you as he worked, pleased with himself for getting you to this state.
The warmth in your stomach coiled tighter and tighter, but you knew it wasn’t going to be enough. “Need more, Mike. C'mon.”
Michael kissed your pussy before pulling off. His chin was extra shiny from spit. “Patience, baby.”
His hand traveled to your hole and he pushed one finger inside slowly, curling to hit that spot that made your back arch and your eyebrows furrow together. He worked it slow, fingers long enough to reach deep inside of you. You whined, and he knew to add another finger. It was pure bliss. He kissed your legs sweetly as he fingered you, looked at you with love and desperation. He was in absolute awe at the woman before him.
“‘S not enough, Mikey. Please. I need you.”
Michael’s face changed when you said that. His erection was pressed against his jeans and begging for some attention. He slid his fingers out of you gently and immediately went to unbuckling his belt while he looked at you, took in your body splayed before him, your legs spread. A perfect writhing mess, just for him. He slid your panties off completely from around your ankles and put your legs over his shoulders.
“You have no idea,” he groaned, his voice a sexy bass, “how bad I’ve wanted to do this.”
You bit your lip at his words and watched as he pulled his pants and underwear down to his midthigh, unveiling his leaking cock. From the way it was twitching and wet with precum, it seemed like he was on the verge of finishing just from fingering and eating you out.
He pumped it a few times then positioned himself at your entrance, looking down in concentration. The anticipation was too much–it was pathetic, almost, how just his tip brushing against your opening made you sigh shakily–and just when you felt like you were going to spontaneously combust, he pushed inside of you with a smooth thrust. You basically screamed.
His strokes were perfect, deep, smooth, with a delicious rhythm. Your jaw dropped open, unable to make a sound, and then he, too, was a moaning, whining mess. You fell back onto the control panel, knobs and sliders digging into your back, but not enough to take away from the feeling of Michael going in and out of you while he whimpered praise.
“Mmh, you feel perfect baby, you’re so beautiful and good and perfect,” he moaned, more beads of sweat now trickling down his neck.
“Holy– shi– shit,” you stammered out. From this angle, his dick was hitting your g-spot perfectly each time. His tip grazed deep, deep inside of you. Fuck. You felt your orgasm quickly approaching.
“C’mon, baby,” he pleaded, breathless as he leaned down to plant quick kisses on your jaw. “You can take it, c’mon. You got it.”
You felt his rhythm slowly pick up, along with his moans. He was muttering strings of sweet nothings under his breath. Your name was on his lips like he was begging a god for forgiveness.
He quickly swept his shirt up, biting the hem to keep there as his thrusts got more and more desperate. His toned core was shining with sweat, the light wobbling on his body as he kept his hips moving. He threw his head back and started moaning, the sweetest music you’ve ever heard, and that sent you off the rails.
“Mikey, ‘m gonna–’m gonna–” your legs wrapped around his hips tighter and you felt every bit of tension in your stomach dissipate with a loud moan. Your fingers looked for anything to grasp onto but only found volume knobs. Your back arched for a second before you collapsed, your shaky arms not sufficient enough to hold you up. Your legs fell from around Michael’s waist.
At the same time, Michael finished, the warmth of his cum pumping deep inside you, overwhelming your senses and heightening your orgasm. He fell on top of you, gasping and panting pleasantly in your ear like he just ran a marathon.
The two of you stayed like that for a minute, Michael riding out the aftershocks and pumping his cum deeper into you. You traded breaths as you both tried to level out and come down from that absolute high. He planted a kiss on your cheek before he pulled out of you and started doing up his pants.
“Way to preserve your voice,” you joked, causing Michael to cover his face in embarrassment as he shook with laughter.
“Baby, oh my gosh,” he chuckled as you stood up to put on your underwear. “You’re walking like a cowboy or something.”
You started laughing uncontrollably with him. “Did we seriously just have sex in the control room?”
He blushed slightly and rubbed his neck. “Oh god, yeah, we did. Sorry. That was real dirty of me, wasn’t it?”
You walked over and planted a soft kiss on his lips, touching his chest warmly. You whispered in his ear, “I should visit you in your sessions more often.”
…
When Quincy and the crew got back, you and Michael tried your best to seem like totally normal upstanding citizens. You were sitting in the control room chairs with your legs crossed casually (although, it was a little stiff considering you could feel a certain someone’s cum leaking out of you), and Michael was sporting his sunglasses again.
Quincy sat down in his chair with a satisfied groan as the other workers piled into their respective seats. “Y’all missed out. What’d y’all even do here, anyway? Talk?”
Michael coughed. You giggled.
“Yeah, something was, uh, weighing on my mind. I got a clear head now. Ready to record," Michael explained.
“That’s what I like to hear.”
“Yo,” an engineer blurted out. “Who was messing with the equalization? Matter of fact, all this crap over here’s messed up…”
You and Michael shared a look and tried not to giggle.
a/n: woohoo! thank you for sticking it out to the end.
ʚɞ description: one summer night, your boyfriend michael comes home after enjoying his time at studio 54. this time, he’s a bit tipsy; the liquid courage finally allowing him to show how much he loves you.
°❀ content: 18+, smut, soft dom!michael, cunnilingus, first time, established relationship, michael wanted that cookie BAD
a/n: this just a little something, i hope yall enjoy.
· · ─ ·ʚɞ· ─ · ·
the apartment was quiet except for the sound of the city humming outside your windows.
you were standing in front of the bathroom mirror in your nightgown, carefully dabbing cream onto your face when you heard the unmistakable sound of someone fighting with the front door.
not unlocking it, but fighting it. there was a clatter. a muttered “wait a minute.” another clatter and then silence.
then, triumphantly— “ha!”
you laughed to yourself before you even turned around, only michael.
a few seconds later, the front door shut, followed by the sound of footsteps making their way through the apartment. slow and dramatic footsteps.
you stepped out of the bathroom just in time to see michael appear in the doorway of your bedroom.
he looked beautiful and exhausted all at once. his dark curls were wild from dancing, his shirt was wrinkled and half untucked, and there was a rosy flush spread across his cheeks. he swayed slightly where he stood, staring at you with wide eyes.
for a moment, he didn’t say anything, but then he grinned. a huge, ridiculous grin.
“oh, wow.”
before you could ask what that meant, he stumbled toward the bed and flopped onto it face-first with an exaggerated groan.
you leaned against the doorframe, trying not to laugh. “hey, baby.”
michael lifted his head immediately. his face lit up with excitement. “hi, my love.” his voice came out soft and dreamy. “i missed you so much.”
he stretched the last word out dramatically, throwing an arm across his forehead like he’d just returned from war.
you crossed your arms. “you’ve been gone for four hours.”
he sat up. “exactly.” he nodded solemnly.
“it was horrible.”
you couldn’t stop yourself from laughing.
that seemed to delight him. he pushed himself to his feet and shuffled toward you, smiling so hard his eyes nearly disappeared.
“everybody was loud,” he informed you, holding his hands out like he was presenting evidence. “and nobody there looked like you.”
he stopped directly behind you.
close enough that you could smell his cologne beneath the smoke and summer air clinging to his clothes.
he pressed his body up against yours, arms snaking around your waist, as his head sat comfortably on your shoulder, looking at your reflection.
he noticed your hair, and your short pink nightgown. “you got prettier.”
you blinked. “since when?” your hands softly rummaging around in your skincare bag, looking for your eye cream.
he thought about it. “since…” he tilted his head, concentrating very hard. “…tonight.”
then he burst into giggles.
you shook your head, smiling despite yourself. “how much did you drink?”
michael gasped so dramatically you thought he might actually fall over. “not that much.”
he held up his fingers and then looked at them noticing the number changing. “okay, maybe a little.”
you laughed again, and he immediately smiled wider, like that had been his goal the entire time.
without warning, he tilted his head into the warmth of your neck. “come here.” he murmured lowly.
“michael, i’m already here.”
at your somewhat shocking words, he quickly pulls away to see your reflection once again, staring at you for a second.
then he laughed so hard he had to hide his face in the coils of your hair. “oh.”
when he looked back up, his expression softened. really softened and he squeezed your hands gently. “i just wanted to come home.”
michael stands behind you in the bathroom, the buzz making his movements slow and deliberate.
he watches you through the mirror as you carefully pat eye cream under your eyes, completely unaware of the predatory look in his drunken eyes.
his fingers trace lazy patterns over your nightgown, fingertips brushing against the skin of your collarbone teasingly. "mm..." he murmurs, leaning in closer.
"you know you look so damn pretty doing this night routine," he slurs softly, his lips moving against your shoulder.
he starts kissing up your neck, his hands sliding around to grip your hips possessively. "and i know there’s nothing under this nightgown, girl." he nips at your earlobe playfully.
your face flushes crimson as you keep applying eye cream, refusing to look at him through the mirror.
your hands tremble slightly, but you try to sound casual. "michael, you're drunk. just... go to bed, okay?" you feels his lips brush against your neck and shivers despite yourself , your hands moving faster with the cream, trying to hide the visible effect.
"i’m not that drunk," he mutters against your neck, his breath warm and smelling faintly of gin.
his hands slowly creep under the hem of your nightgown, fingertips tracing along your cheeks. "you always..." he trails off, kissing a spot behind your ear, his hands creeping higher. "so fucking perfect..."
despite being together for a while, you two rarely do anything sexual. the routine of your lives together—dinner, movies, casual cuddling—has somehow pushed sex to the sidelines.
he never quite initiates, and you've somehow accepted it as normal. now, with the alcohol softening his inhibitions, those buried desires are suddenly resurfacing.
you swallow hard, feeling his hands spread over your lower belly possessively. his words are making your heart pound unexpectedly.
you’ve always wondered what it would be like if he actually made a move. your voice comes out softer than intended, "michael... stop it."
"just let me feel you, baby.” he murmurs into your neck, sounding more sober by the second.
his hands travel up slowly, gently pushing the nightgown up as they go until your breasts are mostly exposed under the loose fabric. he palms them gently, thumbs brushing over nipples.
you gasp, your eyes fluttering closed as his thumb brushes over your sensitive nipple again. a moan escapes your lips before you can stop it. michael takes that as an invitation, squeezing both breasts gently. "see? it feels good right?”
he kisses lower, across your shoulder blades, his mouth hot and wet against your skin. you hear the rustle of fabric as he sinks to his knees behind you, the cold bathroom tiles pressing against him.
his hands slide from your breasts down to your hips, pushing aside the nightgown pooling around your waist. “i know what else feels good, mama.”
"michael, wait—" you start to say, reaching back to grab his arm. but before you can finish the sentence, his warm, wet tongue laps at your folds, finding your clit immediately.
your words turn into a gasp, your legs trembling slightly as he begins to lick you slowly.
his hands gently spread your cheeks apart, exposing you completely. he licks a slow, wet stripe from your clit down to your asshole, making you stand on your tiptoes, nearly arching into the bathroom counter.
you let out a surprised cry, your knuckles turning white as you grip the edge tightly. "michael!"
a deep, low groan vibrates against your clit as michael laps his tongue over your wetness. he murmurs against your flesh, a messy, sloppy sound. “damn... you taste like heaven," he mumbles.
ur licks slowly, deliberately from the front to the back, then drags his tongue back up. the sloppy sounds of his mouth fill the bathroom.
you’re moaning loudly, your beauty products scattered everywhere as you grip the counter for dear life.
michael’s face is buried between your cheeks, his tongue working relentlessly. he suddenly sucks hard on your clit, making you scream and push back against his face. "michael! oh my god...!"
"i knew you wanted it, baby," michael murmurs against your pussy, his tongue flicking rapidly over your clit. "but i need you to show me how much. fuck my face, baby. use my tongue." he spreads your cheeks wider, giving you full access to his mouth.
you spread your legs wider, essentially riding his face from behind. your hands grip the counter tightly as you push back against his mouth, your ass rubbing against his nose and chin. loud, wet sounds fill the bathroom; his sloppy eating and your equally loud moaning. “oh baby! fuck!"
"yes, baby, just like that," michael encourages against your pussy, his words vibrating against your clit. "that’s my pretty girl. you’re fucking my mouth so good."
he reaches up, gripping your hips to pull you back harder onto his face, his tongue buried deep inside you.
you moan loudly, your eyes rolling back as michael slips a thumb inside you, pushing towards that magical spot.
he continues to eat you out enthusiastically from behind, the wet sounds of his mouth and the smacks of his thumb pushing into you filling the room along with your excited whimpers and moans.
"oh god, michael... right there," you whimper, pushing back harder against his thumb and face. "don’t stop, please don't stop..." your legs are trembling, your orgasm building rapidly. "i’m gonna cum, baby... i’m gonna cum on your face..."
"that’s it, baby. give me everything," michael commands against your flesh, his thumb pressing harder into that spot. "ride my face, fuck my mouth, cum all over my tongue. show me how much you wanted this." his tongue flicks rapidly over your clit, keeping you right on the edge. "come for me, pretty girl.
your orgasm crashes over you without warning, a powerful wave that makes your legs shake violently.
you cry out michael's name, pushing back against his face as you squirt slightly - just a little wetness that adds to the mess.
your pussy clenches around his thumb while he continues to lick, drawing out every last spasm. "michael! oh my god...!"
michael shakes his head, his hard length tenting his pants as he watches your trembling legs. he licks his swollen lips, still ravenous despite your orgasm. “i’m not done," he says firmly.
before you can protest, he grabs your waist and turns you around, lifting you onto the bathroom counter. your legs fall open automatically, spread wide facing him.
michael drops back to his knees between your spread thighs, your pussy still swollen and sensitive from your orgasm. he pulls you to the edge of the counter so you're perfectly positioned.
his tongue immediately finds your clit again, licking slowly this time - savoring the taste of your orgasm. your legs shake as he resumes eating you out, relentless despite you just cumming.
you try to talk, your voice unsteady and weak. “baby wait stop," you whisper, trying to push his head away gently. "i just came, i’m really sensitive right now..." but michael doesn't stop.
he just looks up at you, and then firmly puts his hands on your thighs, pinning them down against the counter. "no mama, stay still.”
michael’s face is buried deep between your thighs, his tongue working harder than before. he’s practically sobbing into your pussy, the wet sounds of his mouth filling the bathroom.
his hands are gripping your thighs to keep you from moving as he devours you. you can feel his nose pressed against your clit, his stubble scratching your sensitive skin. "michael! baby, please—"
michael pulls you even closer, your legs hooking over his shoulders as he buries his face completely in your pussy.
his hands roam up to squeeze and caress your tits gently while he talks dirty between licks. "shh baby... just let me eat this pretty pussy..."
“michael! fuck! baby, your mouth... oh my god!” your hands fly to michael’s hair, gripping tightly as your hips start to move on their own, fucking his face. you’re pulling at his shirt desperately, your nails digging into his scalp.
michael looks up at you, his face covered in your juices as he continues to lick and suck. he praises you between mouthfuls. "look at you, riding my face, such a good girl, taking what you need—fuck, your pussy tastes so good, baby... keep fucking my mouth like that..."
michael is completely lost in the taste and feel of you. his eyes are glazed over, his movements almost robotic as he eats you out.
he’s so absorbed that he's practically drooling, swallowing your juices down like they're the most delicious thing he's ever tasted. “mmhm..."
"michael... michael i’m gonna... i’m gonna cum again—!" your words are cut off by a loud moan as your orgasm hits you like a train. your body convulses, legs shaking violently as you cum all over michael’s face.
he just keeps eating you through it, his hands gripping your waist tightly to keep you still. "shit!"
michael doesn't stop licking until your tremors subside, humming in satisfaction against your sensitive flesh. he slowly pulls back, looking up at your trembling legs and satisfied pussy with bite marks on his swollen lips. “fuck, baby... that was so hot."
michael stands up slowly, his prominent erection tenting his pants. he wraps an arm around your waist, supporting you as your legs are still shaky. "come on, let's clean you up and go to bed," he says, pressing a soft kiss to your shoulder. "i’m pretty tired after all that."
your eyes flutter open at his words. noticing the hardness of his cock pressing up against your thigh. “god, baby you’re so hard..here—“ you mutter just before reaching to his belt before his arm stopped you.
"baby, i’m always hard around you," michael admits with a soft laugh. "but it's not about me right now. you just had an intense orgasm. you’re tired and sensitive." he cups the underside of your jaw gently, guiding you to look at him. "let me take care of you."
you kiss him softly, appreciating his selflessness. you let him clean you up gently before you both climb into bed. michael pulls you close, spooning you from behind.
you drift off to sleep, feeling loved and cared for, knowing that michael put your pleasure above his own.
summary: a drunken night out causes michael to end up giving in to his sexual desires after several months of denying you due to his religious beliefs.
warnings: heavy smut, drunken sex (unprotected), virgin!michael (yes again), sub!michael towards the end, mentions of alcohol use, accidental creampie, both !m and !f oral receiving, soft dom!reader, religion & values, sloppy makeout sesh, themes of guilt, michael’s obsessed with your tittieeesss,
a/n: back with some dirty shit
— side note, this fic idea is not meant to take advantage of, disrespect, or exploit michael’s personal beliefs/religion! Any portrayals are wrote solely on the basis of fan-fiction. 🩷
𑣲masterlist/taglist
You & Michael are approximately 2 hours deep into this unexpected night, tipsy & staggered from the multiple drinks you’ve been bought from various people. Pulsing fluorescent lights reflect off your tanned skin as you move fluidly to the music, a sheen coat of sweat covering your bare arms from the humidity of the room.
Michael hadn’t been on the dance floor yet despite your pleas, he’s still a little shy even when he’s drunk. Instead, he’d prefer to watch you as he sat at the bar, sipping on some mysterious liquor Quincey had brought him. His thick curls stuck to his temples from everyone’s body heat pooling in the room, yet he still kept his flannel shirt buttoned up right to the top.
You’d look over your shoulder at him occasionally, relishing in the way he’d ogle at the lower half of your body with an unconscious bite of his lip. Or when he’d giggle around the rim of his glass when you’d gyrate your hips in his direction intentionally, showing off the curve of your ass in your jeans.
You’d love to tease him like that, testing his endurance. Michael was a faithful, religious man. He believed in the avoidance of sexual & lustful acts before marriage. He grew up around that motive all his life, especially with his family. But he’s an adult now with his own choices, yet he’s still stuck in the mindset of a 15 year old boy who has to follow the rules, or has to abide by what his parents taught him. He doesn’t fully realise he is his own man now, & his natural love for women doesn’t help.
He’d deny himself for months, stopping when things got too intimate with you, or made him feel something he didn’t know how to handle. It’s not like he didn’t want to, you’d feel the stiffness of his cock poke your thigh every time you two were making out, or even simply cuddling. But whenever you were just about to make it to the inside of his pants, he’d stop you politely, taking your hand away.
“Baby, not yet,” he’d always say.
Alas, being Michael’s girl was a positive experience. You got to live the upper-echelon life, such as being invited to private parties in Beverly Hills by people who worked alongside him. At first, Michael didn’t even want to go to this party, said it’s not his thing. You were in the middle, you wanted to get him out of his comfort zone & have fun for the night since you two weren’t up to much. In the end, you had convinced him enough to go, so here you were.
Michael turns his head, his trance broken as he hears a muffled voice call his name. It’s a trendy young man, probably successful or famous. He looks like he has money, though Michael doesn’t seem to know him. But of course, everyone knows Michael. The man’s smiling with all teeth, holding out his hand for a handshake.
Michael takes his hand immediately, smiling back as they share a quick & rough pat on the back.
“Love your music, man!” He shouts over the speakers.
Michael semi-yells a thank you that comes out louder & sloppier than expected. He averts his gaze back to you, already distracted by your femininity. Your hands flay in the air as your hair paints your face, you’re loving every second.
“That y'girl?” He shouts near Michael's ear.
Michael snaps his head at him & nods like he’s proud to say yes.
“Yeah, that’s my girl. Beautiful ain’t she?” He practically says to himself, his voice high and sweet. His half-lidded drunken eyes stay glued on you.
The man throws him a small nod of approval, a playful smirk on his face.
“Damn right she is. Treat her right, man. In both ways if y’know what I mean.” He laughs, nudging him.
Michael lets his words hang in the air for a few seconds before laughing back, not quite sure why he’s laughing. Deep down, he wants you so damn bad. He craves you, he hates that he can’t have you yet. He feels embarrassed that he can’t provide that side of intimacy to his girl as a man. But god, if he could, he knew that embarrassment would vanish in no time.
Before Michael could fully respond, the man was strutting away, yelling at someone else. What he said made something shift in his brain, giving him a surge of confidence. How can he sit away from something so beautiful? He tips the last drops of his drink down his throat before placing it on the bar table with a clank. You see him walk over to you on the dance floor with an anticipative yet hungry look on his face. Your face lights up in surprise as he gets closer, doing a reeling motion with your hands. He chuckles from slight embarrassment.
As soon as he reaches you he places his hands on the small of your waist, rubbing absentmindedly. He looks at you like you’re the only girl in his world, like you’re a gift from God. He leans down towards your ear, moving the hair away,
“I missed you.” He whispers hoarsely, you can smell the alcohol on his hot breath.
You feel heat pool to your cheeks, a small smile creeping up the edges of your glossy lips.
“I missed you too, finally decided to come over huh?”
You place your hands on his shoulders as you push yourself up to pepper a kiss on his cheek. The second your lips were about to touch his face, he turns his head to meet you in the middle for a messy kiss, stealing the air from your lungs. His breath hitches immediately, his brows furrowing as he pushes his body flush against yours, his hands growing tighter as they grab the fat of your hips.
He wastes no time in opening his mouth & wrapping his tongue around yours. His chest heaves as he tilts his head to the side, making an impossible attempt to deepen the kiss & get closer. You were caught off guard by his forwardness, he never usually initiated makeouts first, it was always you. You weren’t complaining though. You’d been waiting months for this energy, & now that is was finally here you were practically buzzing.
You sling your arms over his shoulders, connecting your hands around the back of his neck as you kiss him back with the same amount of desperation. The tips of your fingers play with his curls at the nape of his neck as you hum pleasantly on his lips.
You feel Michael’s breaths fall shallow, panting in your mouth as the same feeling he’d usually try to avoid starts to crescendo inside of him. That’s when you feel something hard poking on your thigh, you knew it was him.
You break the kiss breathlessly, a thin glistening line of your mixed salvia snapping.
“Michael—“ you mumble. You look down between his legs.
The sight before you has you frozen. His bulge swells beneath his brown courdroy pants as if it wants to escape, almost looking painful. His chest continues to rise & fall as he looks down, instinctively covering it with one hand.
“M’ sorry, just want you so bad. I don’t know why I feel like this tonight,” he says sloppily, his lips puffy & wet.
He can barely stand on two feet, constantly swaying from side to side. You giggle as you put your hands on his chest to steady him, the little circles you trace making him swallow. His eyes are glassy under the light, laced with this lust & neediness that you secretly love. You wanted to put him out of his misery so badly — but he’d never let you.
“How much did you drink tonight?” You tease, your voice as sweet as candy.
“A lot, I think.”
Your hands make your way to the top button of his shirt, attempting to undo it. His hand flies to yours to stop it.
“What are you doin'?” He giggles.
“Relax baby, It’s just so hot in here, are you not burning up in this?” you say smoothly.
You knew that wasn’t the only reason. You just wanted to loosen him up, step by step. He lets his hand down as he watches you undo his top button, then the second, then the third. His exposed chest glows under the fluorescent lights, deep & rich in color.
You run a hand along his bare skin, looking at him for any sign of discomfort. You don’t find any, for once he doesn’t look that nervous at all. His hands find your hips again, pulling you in against his frame as he gnaws on his bottom lip. He leans forward towards your neck, drawing in a deep inhale through his nose. Your sweet feminine scent drives him crazy. The way his warm breath gently grazes your neck gives you goosebumps. You squeeze your thighs as you feel your cunt start to pulsate.
“Do you always smell this lovely?” He whispers against you as he continues smelling your neck area like a feline.
“Baby, what’s gotten into you?” You chuckle.
You just stand there, letting him smother himself all over you. If you’re being honest, his sudden wave of confidence threw you off guard, now you’re the one all nervous.
You gently slide one of your hands in between your glued bodies, making your way to his thighs. Your other hand on his lower back. You caress one gently, the sensation immediately making him wince. He flutters his eyes shut as he leans forward to press his lips against yours, not knowing what to do with himself.
You both end up deepening the kiss, the sides of your mouth growing wet. He whimpers your name into your lips as if he’s physically struggling to contain something. He pulls away a mere inch just enough to murmur,
“God help me.”
You feel him lightly grab your hand, moving it lower & lower until it reaches his bulge. Your eyes shot up at him, twinkling with mischief. That’s the last thing you expected him to do.
His forehead falls onto yours as he presses your palm against his cock, rewarding a low & relieving groan from his throat. He feels like rock in your grasp, making you salivate. Thank god you’re practically in the dark. You can feel his entire shaft as if there's no material on it, that's how erect he is. You give it a singular stroke from bottom to top, causing his mouth to fall agape.
“Mikey—“
“Let’s go home, I’ll call a cab” he plants a kiss on your collarbone, then on your lips, “Please.”
This is the first time Michael’s ever made a move like that. That was the first time you’d ever felt him down there, your heart skipped a beat the second you touched it. You’ve dreamt of that moment for months, him being all needy for your touch.
Michael called a cab the second you agreed to leave, rushing outside as he held your hand tight. You didn't even get a chance to say goodbye to anyone, his first priority was to get you home.
You gave the cab driver a hard time when you got in. You were all over each other on the ride home. You were both already spent, breathless & hot as you rammed your tongues down each other's throats, occasionally missing due to the darkness of the backseat. You could tell Michael was still trying to keep things safe, only making out with you. Not touching your 'lady parts' or anything, as he would call them. His hands would tremble as he held your shoulders tight, pushing his face into yours. You slide your hands under his flannel shirt, running your hands over his taut n’ clammy abdomen.
Kissing was the only thing he knew, the only thing he could do without feeling sinful. So it makes sense why his kisses feel so heated & desperate, his body needs more, yet it’s like he’s only restricted himself for kissing.
The red light at the junction illuminates the back seat, temporarily revealing your faces to each other. Michael looks down at your chest, your breasts almost falling out of your skimpy little top. He gently touches your necklace hanging above your cleavage, swallowing the lump in his throat.
"So beautiful, you're heaven-sent." He says, his voice cracking from being unused for the past 20 minutes of straight kissing.
When the taxi finally pulled up outside the house, Michael was already reaching for the door handle before the engine had fully settled. He shot a look at you, his face full of nerves & anticipation. You couldn’t help the smile that crept up on your face.
“Thank you,” you tell the driver. Michael was already out the car in a hurry, waiting on you.
Neither of you said anything as you scurried onto the front porch, desperate to be alone together. Michael drops the keys as he tries to get the lock open as soon as possible.
You didn’t quite know what it was Michael was rushing for, you had an idea, yet it seemed completely unrealistic given his morals.
Finally, he manages to get the front door open, ushering you in first before shutting it behind him with a slam.
He places the keys on the console table, turning to you. He burries his face into your neck, his hands running down your thighs. You laugh breathlessly, looking down at the floor.
“You’re gonna have to tell me to stop cus’ I can’t keep my hands off you, I’m sorry.” Michael cooes, his pants feeling tighter around his crotch again.
Telling him to stop was the last thing on your mind, that would be absurd. You look up at him through your lashes, puckering your lips a little, toying with him.
“I like it,” you whisper.
You plant a kiss on the sweet spot of his neck. His scent is warm & alluring, notes of fresh soap, vanilla, & a night out. You twist your head more, opening your mouth as you let your tongue glide wetly against his supple skin.
He’s never been kissed on the neck by you before, so the feeling immediately makes him freeze & contract, his eyes threatening to roll back to his head.
“Oh my—“ He whimpers.
He pulls away before you can get into it, grabbing your both your hands.
“Come upstairs with me.” He asks you, his words slurred as he starts to pull you towards the stairs.
You both make it to your bedroom, but it’s pitch black. You hear Michael click the door shut. Neither of you say anything for a second, the tension is thick in the air. You feel your cunt start to dampen due to the anticipation.
You stumble across the floor towards where you think your bedside lamp would be, you find it & flip the switch. The lamp casts a dim amber atmosphere. As soon as Michael sees where you are, he walks towards you, guiding you to the bed by your waist.
He plops himself down on the mattress, keeping his hands on you firmly. You stand between his open legs as you stroke his head, he looked so cute like this. His big brown eyes stay fixed on yours, never faltering. He moves his hands higher up your waist so they’re sitting a little below your breasts.
“What is it you want, Mikey?” You say just below a whisper, tilting your head.
“I want you.”
His voice is laced with confusion, like he feels ashamed to even admit such an obvious thing. He can’t help his boyish urges, it’s only biological & one can only take so much before it cracks.
His hands travel to the bottom of your shirt, lifting it up to reveal your bare stomach. He plays with your belly button piercing first, giving it a little kiss. He continues to drag his face along your skin, his breath hitching as he peppers kisses at the same time, his lips felt burning hot against you.
You drop your head back slightly at the feeling, muttering his name as your hands stay in his hair.
He leans away, starting to pull up your shirt slow & steady. He looks at you as if to earn your approval. You hum in agreement as you help him lift your shirt off, leaving you in your white laced bra, your t-shirt forgotten on the floor.
Michael gawks at your plumpy breasts, his eyes darting back & fourth from them to your face, as if he can’t believe you’re real. The fit was a little too small for you, so the tops were on the verge of falling out which didn’t help him.
You reach around as you begin to unclasp your bra, startling him.
He looked like a deer in headlights, about to freak out or something. You place one hand on his cheek, stroking him with your thumb.
“You wanna see them?” You ask, your voice wooing him deeper.
Michael nods slowly, looking a little ashamed. He can’t even utter the courage to physically say yes, like if he does he’d be struck down.
You return your hand to your clasp, undoing it completely. Your full, perky breasts fall free once the material falls, sitting neatly in-front of his face while your nipples stiffen up from your arousal.
Michael’s gawks at them, his lips slightly parted. He didn’t know what to do with this sweet piece of ass in front of him, he couldn’t handle it. He’s never seen a naked woman in front of him before. Sure, he’d seen them when he’d flip through Playboy magazines in secret before he met you, but never in person. He’d always feel guilty for simply looking, or for the way his cock would twitch.
“They’re so pretty.”
“Thank you, honey. You can feel them if you want.” You reply.
You take his hands, pulling them up & placing them on your breasts. You let his hands go, allowing him to get used to the feeling. He wastes no time in rubbing & squeezing them, his pupils blown out as he looks at you, completely enamoured.
You watch him come undone every second that passes, his body becoming less stiff, more fluid & relaxed. Finally, his mental restraint snaps. He holds one in his hand as he leans forward, latching his mouth onto your right nipple with a warm, gentle pull & a swirl of his tongue. The sudden shock of pleasure draws a breath from your lungs, making your thighs clench.
“Oh my god Michael—“
His other hand reaches up, rolling your hard nub between his fingers in time with each wet pull of his mouth. He continues this for a few minutes, completely fine with doing it for hours.
He releases you from his mouth with a wet pop as you push him back onto the mattress. His belt buckle rattles as you fiddle to get it open. You manage to slide it off in one motion, throwing it behind you. You undo his button next, inching him to lift his hips up so you can remove his pants.
Michael grows impatient as he scurries to help you push them down to his thighs until you take over & pull them off completely. You feel your mouth start to salivate at the sight of his cock standing tall under his white boxers, the outline & shape clear as day.
Honestly, you didn’t expect him to look as big as he does. You wonder how it will even fit inside of you. The way it swells makes you pout, feeling even more obliged to put him out of his misery by milking him dry.
“You sure you wanna do this baby? We can stop y’know.” You reassure him, running your hands up his prickly thighs.
“Please, I don’t care anymore. I need you, God I need you. It hurts to say no to you.” He practically whimpers the words, dragging a hand over one of your breasts.
You automatically bite your lip at his desperation, moving your hands to the bottom of his shirt, lifting it over his head.
You grab the waistband of his boxers & start pulling them down slowly, his shaft revealing itself more & more the farther down they get. His cock springs free as soon as you get them completely off, slick pre-cum already pooling at the top of his head.
His cock was visibly perfect, his tip a deep mauve tone. Long veins were raised beneath the delicate skin, gently pulsating.
You feel Michael’s hand wrap around your hair, grabbing gently as he anticipates your mouth.
“Please, please—“ he begs.
You wrap your hand around the shaft, giving his tip a small kitten lick, lapping up his juices. The saltiness of his fluids made you hum, the vibrations sending him over the edge.
His body contracts the second your tongue touches him, lengthy groans ripping from his throat as he struggles to stay tame. One of his hands grips the sheets, his knuckles turning white as the other remains tangled in your hair.
You begin lowering your head, attempting to take him all in one go. Your nose grazes his pubic hair, his size causing soft gags to erupt from your throat.
“Ah—y-yes!” He cries, his eyes gradually making their way to the back of his head.
You couldn’t imagine how Michael must’ve been feeling right now, containing all that horniness for months only to get his cock sucked in the most vulgar way possible for the first time.
Trails of your saliva run down the sides of your mouth as you begin bobbing your head with a steady rhythm. You yourself were drunk, so keeping a rhythm & not sucking messily felt hard.
Michael’s hand guides your head up & down as if it has a mind of its own, not aware what he’s doing. He was too far gone, he’s entire body stiffened up from the intense pleasure you were giving him.
He opens his eyes as he rises his head up, looking at you worryingly.
“I feel something happening,” he warns as his abs start to clench. “If you stop now, it won’t count, right?” He barely manages to get the sentence out, his voice cracking.
You release him from your mouth with a pop, stroking him absentmindedly. You chuckle to yourself, he really thinks if you stop before he cums, this sinful act won’t count.
“It’s okay to want want me, Michael” You mewl.
He throws his head back on the sheets, accepting his defeat. His body still twitching as you stroke him.
You stand on your feet as you start to unbutton your jeans, sliding them down & off your feet. He sits up, sliding his hands across the hem of your lace panties before slowly pulling them down, watching the way your pussy reveals itself to him in awe.
Before you could do anything else, Michael presses his face into your glossy folds, holding your ass in place so you don’t fall.
A pornographic moan spills from your lips as you tip your head back, followed by your eyes. He moves his head down for a better angle, lapping & sucking up all your juices. His tongue swirls around your entrance, hitting your clit occasionally making you wince.
“More, please more—“
He flips you around onto the bed, immediately diving between your legs to continue feeding off you. You keep your legs open for him as he holds the backs, pushing them forward. He flattens his tongue against the bottom of your slit, dragging it all the way up with a groan. He continues doing that a few times for his own gain, sending you over the edge.
You pinch your eyes shut as you start to feel your thighs clench around nothing, a familiar sensation starting to grow in your lower belly.
“You’re gonna make me come if you don’t stop.” You moan out.
If anything, he speeds up. You tug at the sheets while the messy slurps from his drunken mouth bring you closer. Your breathing falls shallow, paired with little whimpers as the feeling grows stronger until it finally takes over you.
“Right there, y-yes, coming!”
Black spots cloud your vision, your thighs trembling in his grasp as the cord in your belly snaps. You’ve never came so hard in your life, it was almost painful.
Michael crawls on top of you like a cat as he brings you in for another kiss, addicted to your lips alone. You hold his face, his hands braced next to your head. You exhale as you feel his cock tap against your pussy, wanting to enter.
Michael moves himself up & down, his tip sliding against your slit beautifully. Both of you being so so wet makes the sliding easy, almost slipping in every now & then.
“Want it so bad, ma. Please say yes.” He whispers in your ear, his head resting on your shoulder as he continues dragging it along your slit.
“Take it baby, t’s all yours.”
You push his ass, slowly crowning his tip inside you. A bittersweet sting forms as he plunges himself deeper inside, every inch forcing a moan out of the both of you. You sling your hands around his shoulders, keeping your legs open as wide as possible in hopes he’ll fit completely.
“So—tight, God.” He breathes out, pushing the last inches inside.
Once he’s fully in, he’s already panting, the feeling of your warmth wrapped around him making him weak. He takes a minute to get used to the feeling before starting to move. A few seconds pass & he starts moving, dragging his cock fully out before plunging back in.
Your breasts move beneath him with each gentle thrust, making him latch mouth onto one momentarily, greedy to have every part of you at once. His cock hits your g-spot perfectly with precision every second, you honestly felt like you could cum at any moment if you let yourself.
It doesn’t take much longer before he’s speeding up, the slick plaps of skin meeting skin starting to creep up the harder he goes. A sweet, foamy ring of white starts to form around the base of his cock with each thrust.
Michael would rather keep his eyes open to look at your pretty little face, yet he finds it very hard. His eyes are pressed shut, trying to hide from the sinful reality. His face dug into your neck as he mumbles gibberish to himself, completely pussy whipped.
“Feels—good Mikey, you feel so fucking good.” You say, your voice jumping from his searing thrusts.
You feel his tongue graze your neck as his mouth opens, attempting to respond but to no avail.
He continues snapping his hips into you, his pelvis hitting your clit perfectly every-time. Not one second goes by where you don’t feel pleasure, it’s trapping you.
You feel him swell larger inside of you, knowing he must be close. He lifts himself up, holding your hips to push himself into you impossibly deeper.
“Fuck! Right there!” You cry out, the head of his cock abusing your sweet spot even more than before.
“Yeah? Right there?” He breathes out, forcing his cock to continue plunging into you at the same spot that made you cry out. At this point, he’s getting off on you more than his own pleasure.
You nod furiously, your face screwed up in pleasure as you were unable to form words.
“I feel it, y’ gonna make me come—,” He pants, his eyes practically watering as they stare at you for support.
You manage to reach down to try & grab him, forgetting you weren’t wearing any protection.
“You have to pull out baby, you’ll get me pregnant—”
There’s no sense of urgency in your voice, you were too consumed & wrapped up in the feeling he was giving you. Part of you didn’t even care, all you knew was now.
Michael’s thrusts start to become sloppy & erratic, his release only seconds away as his body begins to stiffen up, his thighs shaking.
The sudden change in his thrusts caused you to cum again suddenly. Your walls strangle him as you cry into your hand. The neighbours never entered your mind once.
The tightness of your unexpected orgasm catches him off guard, tipping him over the edge.
“Fuck, m’ sorry, I’m sorry—“
His hips snap into you one last time before he freezes, his warm seed spilling inside of you, painting your walls. His body falls limp as he flops down onto your chest, drawing out a long singular strangled moan into your cleavage, followed by little high pitch whimpers. The sensation of him filling you up makes you whine, definitely one of your guilty pleasures.
After a few minutes of breaths being caught, he lifts his hips, pulling his flaccid length out of you. His thick white release drips out instantly, pooling between your ass. You watch the colour drain out of his face as he stares between your legs. He reaches forward, rubbing the fluid between his fingers.
“How do you feel about being a daddy?"
a/n: can you guys tell i've been in heat this week?
yall im sorry ive been busy af; works busy, went on a trip and came back and i have had no energy to write
but i have an mj x filipina wife fic in the works where she finds out they’re expecting!
i’m in the process of moving so i’m v busy but i hope to at least post this before a short hiatus while i settle in… im still reblogging works tho so if u see me hi hello
synopsis: after convincing yourselves the kiss was just a one-time mistake, pretending nothing happened turns out to be a lot harder than either of you expected.
cw: smut, inexperienced (childhood?) bsf!michael, inexperienced!reader, sexual tension, making out, mutual pining, dry humping, oral (f!receiving) (michaels an eater in the making), implied masterbation, twister :p, oral (m!receiving), praise, nasty nasty nasty, loud vocal whiny michael, they r freaky ass virgins, otw/thriller!michael
part 1 (but u dont really need it to read this) might have a part 3 :p
also sorry but half-edited
you’d think nearly getting walked in on by an entire hallway full of his brothers would’ve snapped some sense into michael.
the adrenaline from that close call — but mostly the kiss, if he was being honest — kept him wide awake for hours. by the next morning, he’d firmly resolved to leave the whole thing behind. you two were supposed to be best friends, after all. it was just a reckless lapse in judgment that both of you needed to quietly put away and never bring up again.
except neither of you were particularly good at pretending — and especially not michael.
he had always been guided by a pretty strict moral compass. between his upbringing and his own polite nature, he just wasn’t the type of guy to fool around or treat people carelessly. he took things seriously, sometimes to a fault.
your friendship was the one thing in his life that felt safe and untouched by all the usual noise surrounding him. it was easy, it was real, and he kept a tight guard over it. but it was getting harder and harder to ignore the ache that had settled in his chest.
he wanted to be the gentleman he was raised to be, but every time he looked at you now, there was this need he couldn’t set aside. the thought of blurring those lines and letting things get messy scared him to death.
he didn't want to be the guy who took advantage of a close moment, and he definitely didn't want to look across the room one day and realize he’d made things weird between you two forever.
the shift hit immediately over the next few days. it wasn't anything too crazy, but there were noticeable hitches in your usual routine. you’d be hanging out on the carpet in his bedroom at hayvenhurst, casually flipping through a crate of old vinyl records to find something to play, and you’d look up to ask him a question. but instead of looking at the sleeve in your hand, michael would already be watching you. specifically, your mouth.
every time you spoke about the most boring, mundane things — like what track to play next or what you wanted to have for dinner — his gaze would drop. he’d watch your mouth, his own lips parting the tiniest bit as he tracked the movement, not even fully aware of what he was doing.
in his head, a loop was running. he kept remembering the sweet taste of your lip gloss, the dizzying warmth of your mouth parting for him, and the way your tongue slid greedily against his. it had felt incredible. just thinking about it made a tight ache coil low in his stomach. he wondered what it would feel like if he leaned across the carpet right now, if he could feel your soft, wet mouth sliding down, wrapping tight around his—
no. michael caught himself, his throat bobbing as he swallowed hard, a flush creeping up his neck. no, stop it. that’s your best friend. you are not taking your thoughts there. he’d abruptly yank his gaze away, clearing his throat and nervously shifting his weight on the floor to hide the stiffness in his trousers, stammering out a hurried reply that did absolutely nothing to clear the thick cloud of tension left in the room.
by the weekend, the tension in the house was just getting to be too much. hoping a change of scenery would finally break the awkwardness, you both decided to get out of there and go for a drive.
you sat in the plush passenger seat of his light blue rolls-royce, the car parked under the sprawling canopy of a quiet, dimly lit street overlooking the valley. the street light cast a soft glow over the interior. you both had cups of soft-serve ice cream, the car filled with the easy, familiar chatter that always came naturally to you two.
"’m jus' sayin', it’s completely different when you're seein' it on a big screen," michael said as he gestured with his plastic spoon. "the way they did the transformation scenes in an american werewolf in london? 's like magic. rick baker is a genius, i'm tellin' you."
you snorted, shifting in your seat to face him. "you spent half the movie hiding your face behind your hands. you can't claim it’s ‘artistic appreciation’—” you used your free hand to flash quick air quotes, “—when you were literally too scared to look."
"i was not!" he protested, a laugh bursting out of him. he shrugged, shifting slightly in his seat. "i was studyin' the makeup effects— that’s research. y'gotta look closely at how the skin stretches, otherwise y'don't learn nothin'."
"right, research," you teased, taking another bite of your ice cream. "is that why you gripped my wrist so hard i lost circulation?"
"you're exaggeratin' now," he grinned as a pretty flush hit his cheeks. "i was jus' makin' sure you weren't scared. i was protectin' you."
"oh, thanks. my hero." you nudged his shoulder with your own, a smirk playing on your face. "what, are you thinking 'bout quitting your music career to become a makeup artist now?"
michael let out another quiet chuckle, shaking his head as he looked down at his cup. "no way," he murmured, swirling his spoon through the melting ice cream. "'s too messy. i'll stick to the studio." he flicked his eyes back up to yours, his smile softening. "but a real artist has to appreciate all kinds of things. movies, painting, whatever... it all helps y'grow. y'gotta feed your mind, y'know?"
you hummed, nodding along.
gradually, the chatter died down into a still quietness. you scooped up one last bite of your ice cream, turning your head to look out the window at the sprawling valley lights as you ate it, unaware that the motion left a small dab of vanilla right on the corner of your lower lip.
michael was leaning his elbow against the steering wheel, watching you. his eyes locked onto the small white smudge. the silence stretched, growing warmer by the second, until the weight of his stare made you turn your head to face him.
your eyes met. neither of you looked away. the car suddenly felt a lot smaller than it did a second ago. heat bloomed in your cheeks under the weight of his gaze.
"what?" you asked, your voice a little breathier than you intended.
michael didn't answer right away.
"y'have a little..." he said, his voice trailing off as his gaze drifted back to your lips. he slowly reached across the center console towards you.
you held your breath as his thumb pressed against the corner of your mouth to swipe the ice cream away. the intimacy of the touch made your pulse spike.
he drew his hand back, glancing down at his thumb before lifting his eyes to yours again.
without looking away, he slowly licked the vanilla from his thumb.
a hot rush of adrenaline zipped through you.
you swallowed against the dryness in your throat, nervously chuckling as you set your ice cream down in the holder. "thanks... guess i’m a messy eater."
"‘s jus’ me here,” he murmured with a small smile. his fingers fidgeted with the steering wheel, though his eyes never left your lips, it was clear his mind was elsewhere. the silence grew so thick it felt like the air was running out.
michael stayed where he was, still leaning across the center console. he was close enough to feel the warmth radiating off your skin. he took a deep, steady breath before speaking.
“...can i kiss you?” he asked quietly.
you barely let him finish asking before you were already leaning in.
when his mouth finally met yours, michael didn't think it was possible to miss your lips this much. the touch of you washed over him like relief, erasing all the agonizing distance between you in an instant. it somehow felt even better than he'd remembered over the last few day. your lips were soft, carrying the sweet taste of vanilla ice cream.
the kiss started as a slow, but the lingering sweetness on your tongue made it impossible for him to hold back for long.
michael let out a breathy sigh against your mouth as his hand slipped from the steering wheel to cup your cheek. his thumb slid along your jaw, tilting your head to slant his lips deeper over yours.
the first tentative sweep of his tongue past your lips sent a jolt through him, drawing him closer, as if he could close the gap between the seats by force of will.
he devoured you, his breath coming in short gasps that mingled with your own. every soft clash of your lips against his felt heightened, amplified by the cramped dark of the car.
michael’s mind went completely blank to everything except the way you responded to him, your hands finding the collar of his jacket and pulling him down, inviting the weight of him. a faint hum of approval vibrated in his throat when he felt your tongue slide back against his, matching his cadence with a hunger that rivaled his own.
he sucked your lower lip into his mouth, his hands drifted blindly down to your waist.
the center console dug into his side, keeping you frustratingly out of reach, but he refused to pull away. he needed you closer.
without breaking the kiss for even a second, he gripped your hips and hooked his arms beneath your thighs, lifting you up and over the center console.
you scrambled to adjust, your knees sliding onto the edges of his seat until you were straddling his lap. the sudden drop of your body onto his made michael let out a muffled whine into your mouth. he wrapped his arms securely around your back, pulling your chest flush against his as the kiss turned sloppier.
the heat inside the car was blistering. michael's broad hands settled firmly on your hips, holding you close. the pressure between your bodies made him shudder against your mouth.
he couldn't get enough. all the frustration that had built up over the past week spilled over as he shifted his hips up to meet you. the leather beneath him squeaked softly with the movement.
even through the layers of your denim and his trousers, the friction was almost too much to handle. michael’s mouth grew clumsier, his teeth grazing your lower lip as he sucked your tongue into his mouth, drunk on the taste of you and the ache tightening in his groin.
his head was spinning. he squeezed your hips tighter, his fingers digging into your skin as he guided your pace, chasing the delicious rush every time he rocked up against you.
a quiet moan slipped from your lips as your hips rolled into his. the sound alone made his dick twitch against his pants. his grip tightened, his knuckles paling against your waist.
he was trembling all over, his breathing shot, warmth creeping up under his curls. the pace turned frantic, both of you losing your breath as your bodies rolled together in the cramped cabin of the car.
"oh... 'm gonna—" michael slurred into your mouth as his whole body shuddered.
"f-fuck," you whimpered, your fingers gripping his shoulders as your own climax threatened to crash over you.
desperate for a deeper angle, michael gripped your thighs and hoisted himself slightly higher in the seat, thrusting up hard to bury himself flush against you.
in his haste, his movement made your back bump into the center of the steering wheel, the horn blaring and piercing the quiet street.
both of you jumped, the sound cutting through the heat like a bucket of ice water. michael instantly lurched backward, his arm tugging you off the wheel as he tried to put distance between you, his head nearly hitting the roof.
"oh shit," you gasped.
his chest heaved like he’d just run a marathon. he stared at you with wide eyes, his lips swollen and red.
you were still straddling his lap, your hands clutching his shoulders while your heart battered against your ribs. the car was dead silent, save for the sound of both of your uneven breathing.
the absurdity of the situation hit you first, and an airy giggle slipped past your lips. michael blinked at you, startled, before his own shoulders relaxed and he huffed out a short laugh.
but it was very short lived. michael's head was spinning, his thoughts a mess. looking at you in his lap in the dim light, a wave of guilt washed over him.
"we— we gotta stop," michael stammered. he dragged a trembling hand over his mouth, trying to steady himself, though his gaze kept slipping to your rumpled shirt. "we shouldn't... we can't be doin' this.”
you swallowed hard and forced yourself to nod.
but neither of you made a move to separate. the heat between your bodies was thick, your core still pressed flush against his stiff trousers, feeling the twitch of his erection right against you. michael swallowed hard, his hand dropping from his mouth to rest tentatively on your hip.
he looked so torn, caught in this battle with himself, and it made something soften in your chest. you didn't want him pulling away out of fear or some strict rulebook.
you leaned a little closer, reaching out to cup his jaw. your fingers slid along his warm skin, your thumb hooking under his chin to tilt his face up so he had no choice but to look at you.
he was so pretty it almost hurt. his soft curls framed his face in a messy halo, and his dark skin had flushed a deep crimson all the way to the tips of his ears.
as your eyes locked, michael’s gaze dropped to your mouth. his tongue darted out to quickly lick from his lower lip before he bit down on it hard, trapping it between his teeth
"what if... i don't want to?" you murmured, your heart hammering so hard against your ribs you were sure he could feel it. your free hand slid down his shoulder to catch his wrist. "i mean... remember what you said earlier? 'bout research? you said a real artist has to appreciate all kinds of things to grow… and how will you grow if we don’t… you know."
michael blinked, a breathless laugh escaping him. his gaze flickered between your eyes and your lips.
"that... that was about the movies," he whispered, his voice dropping into a soft drawl as he stumbled over the words. he swallowed hard, his throat bobbing beneath your fingertips where your hand still rested on his jaw. his gaze dropped for a moment as his thumb traced a small circle against your hip, the warmth of his palm seeping through your clothes. "'s different. y'know it is."
"'s not different," you breathed, a small smile tugging at your lips. "we're just researching. practicing... aren’t we?"
michael's breath caught. he'd been the one to call it practice in the first place, but hearing the words in your voice made them sound a whole lot less convincing. it painfully obvious that neither of you believed it anymore, but it was just the excuse you'd both quietly agreed to hide behind.
you leaned down closer, the scent of him filling your senses as your eyelids fluttered shut. you pressed your lips to the soft corner of his mouth.
when you started to pull back, he chased your lips until he caught them again, locking his mouth over yours in a desperate kiss. a groan caught in his throat as his fingers tangled deep into the hair at the nape of your neck, his tongue slipping past your teeth.
but just as you tangled your fingers in his collar to pull him closer, he stopped.
he let out a shaky exhale against your skin before dropping his forehead into the crook of your neck. he stayed there for a moment, his chest heaving against yours. he still looked downright tormented as he dragged a trembling hand down his face.
"if i don't stop right now... 'm not gonna be able to," he whispered. he looked down at his hands, heat spreading across his cheeks. "the things i wanna do t'you... the way i want you... 's too much. i can't. i have t'be a gentleman with you.”
your throat tightened, your stomach flipping at his words.
"michael,” you murmured softly, squeezing his hand "you are good for me. i want you. 'm not asking you to be perfect… and you don't get to make this decision all by yourself — it's my choice too"
you leaned in, your thumb tracing the back of his hand. "i don't trust anyone the way i trust you... i want this."
he held your gaze for a long moment, searching your face as if he were making sure you meant every word.
his gaze dropped to your lips, then to where your hand still held his wrist. after a brief hesitation, he turned his hand over in your grip, lacing his fingers with yours and giving them a gentle squeeze.
his free hand returned to your waist, slipping beneath the hem of your shirt as his thumb traced the curve of your hip. he leaned down, pressing a kiss into the crook of your neck before he spoke.
"i wanna make y'feel good," he murmured, his fingers drifting toward your shorts, his knuckles brushing the fabric where you needed him. "can i? can i do that for you?"
you nodded, your voice catching a little. "please."
michael let out a quiet breath, his gaze drifting around the cramped front cabin before a tiny, nervous smile tugged at the corner of his lips. he cleared his throat, a flush creeping up his neck.
"backseat?" he whispered.
you felt your face burn, a small smile breaking across your face as you bit the inside of your cheek and nodded.
you both scrambled over the console until you reached the wide bench seat in the back. you scooted back against the leather as michael climbed in after you, bracing himself above you with one hand planted beside your head and the other at your waist
he carefully flipped your skirt up over your hips. he clumsily worked his hand along your legs while you both shifted awkwardly on the leather, trying to get comfortable. when his hand brushed your bare thigh, you shivered.
"doin' okay?" he asked, looking up at you.
"yeah," you whispered, your face feeling incredibly hot. "'m jus’ a little nervous."
"me too," he said softly. he moved his hand back up, his fingers tentatively tracing the inside of your thigh until his knuckles nudged the edge of your underwear. he stopped there, his eyes searching yours. "can i... touch you here?"
you nodded, your fingers tightening on his shoulder.
michael drew his hand back a few inches as his gaze drifted between your thighs. right in the center of your underwear, a cute little damp spot had bloomed through the cotton. the fabric clung to your skin, outlining the soft shape of your folds where it creased against your body.
michael's breath hitched. he stared, completely transfixed. his lower lip disappeared between his teeth before he reached out, his index finger tracing the damp patch of cotton where it hugged your skin.
"you're drippin'," he whispered, his voice turning raspy as he looked back up at your face.
heat rushed to your face, and you quickly looked away. a tiny smile tugged at his mouth when he saw how flustered you were. he reached up with his other hand to guide your face back toward him, wanting to look at you.
"makes me feel good to know i do that t'you," he confessed, his eyes locked onto yours.
his fingers hooked beneath the elastic, pulling it down your legs. when his fingertips finally touched your drooling pussy, a shaky groan slipped from his lips.
he stared for a long moment, hypnotized by how puffy and swollen you were, by the way you were already spilling over, and when he parted your folds, the wetness caught in the low light filtering in from the street.
"michael," you breathed, your voice cracking. you tried to press your legs together, your hands coming down to shield yourself from his gaze. "don't... 's embarrassing."
"no, don't hide," he whispered. he caught your wrists, easing your hands away. "you're so pretty... you're leakin' all over f’me."
a small, pleading noise slipped from your lips before you can stop it.
"m-mikey, please," you begged, your hips twitching under the weight of his stare.
he leaned closer, his nose brushing against your thigh as he took another look, his fascination bordering on obsession. he watched the way your pussy glistened, completely captivated.
he mumbled something under his breath that you couldn't quite make out, sounding almost awestruck by the realization that he was the reason you were falling apart like this. then he reached out, tracing the very edge of your folds with one long finger, following the path where you were dripping.
he wasn’t just touching.
he was exploring you, his curiosity getting the better of his shyness.
he slid his finger upward, an experimental stroke that dragged the wetness over your folds. your breath caught, and michael noted the tiny hitch in your chest, his thumb pausing right where it was. he was studying you, trying to get a gauge of your reactions to what you like.
he was being uncharacteristically shameless but so attentive.
and it turned you on more than you wanted to admit.
"y'like that?" he whispered, his voice hoarse.
you gave a small nod, your hands reaching for his forearms.
michael swallowed hard. he repeated the same upward stroke, this time pressing just a little harder, his thumb lightly grazing the sensitive bundle of nerves at the top. a sharp gasp escaped you, and your hips twitched against his hand.
michael moaned in response, trapping his lower lip between his teeth. he studied you like you were something precious he didn't want to break, mapping out exactly what made you gasp and what made your body respond. then he tried a different angle, circling his thumb gently over your clit. when your eyes fluttered shut and a whimper slipped free, he let out a shaky breath against your skin.
the steady pressure of his thumb was already making your head spin. michael's breathing grew shallower, his chest rising and falling against yours as he looked down at his hand. his middle finger shifted slightly, the tip nudging against your opening before he stopped.
"michael—" you gasped, your hips twitching on his lap.
"still okay?" he asked, his eyes searching yours.
"y-yeah," you whispered, your fingers curling into his shirt. "can you give me more?"
michael swallowed hard, his face flushed. "tell me if it's too much," he whispered.
he eased his finger inside. he moved carefully, trying to find the right angle while your walls gripped him. a low, quiet moan caught in his throat from how warm and tight you felt.
you were soaking, the mess of it making everything slippery as he pushed a little deeper. the wet noise of his finger sliding against your folds was loud in the quiet car, making your face burn, but you couldn't stop your body arching into him.
when his finger curled slightly and your whole body buckled, he let out a shaky groan into the crook of your neck.
“oh— mike, fuck,” you whimpered.
he looked back up at you, his lower lip caught between his teeth, looking overwhelmed by an idea he was clearly trying to work up the nerve to ask.
"can i..." he started. he cleared his throat, a deeper flush creeping up his neck. "will y'let me taste you? please?"
your heart skipped a beat, your fingers tightening in the fabric of his shirt. when you gave a small nod, the tension in his shoulders melted away. carefully, he eased his finger out of you, the soft sound of the release making you both shiver.
"lay back f'me," he whispered.
you let your elbows slide out from under you, easing back onto the wide leather bench seat. the smooth leather felt cool against your skin.
he shifted his weight, moving down between your legs, angling himself on the lower edge of the seat.
he rested his hands on the insides of your thighs, his fingers tracing upward until he had a clear view of you. he stared for a beat before lowering his head.
looking down at him, your chest ached with how beautiful he was. his skin looked soft under the dim light, and those huge, deep brown eyes of his were wide and completely focused on you, framed by thick lashes. even with his curls a little messy and his face completely flushed with nerves, he looked so striking it almost made you forget to breathe.
you felt his breath first — hot and shallow, panting softly against your cunt — and you went still under him, your stomach tightening as his hair tickled your thighs.
he still hadn't moved and you were squirming just waiting for him to do something.
he lifted his eyes to yours, the contact hitting like lightning.
there was so much written across his face — hunger, reverence, something almost possessive — but it was the softness that broke you. the slight twitch of his eyebrows.
slowly, michael leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your inner thigh, his breath ghosting over your skin. then another, a little higher this time, right at the crease where you leg met your hips.
and finally he lowered his head closer to your core, never once breaking eye contact, before he leaned in and licked you.
a slow lick from bottom to top, with the flat of his tongue. you let out a sharp gasp, your hands flying to grip the edges of the seat cushions as your hips jolted.
and he groaned, a sound so filthy that you felt it through your cunt, all the way to your spine.
he began using his tongue in slow upward strokes, mirroring the way he'd touched you with his fingers. he was so gentle, his tongue warm and wet as it dragged through your slickness, parting your folds to get closer. when he swept a little higher and lapped directly over your clit, a loud whimper broke from your lips.
michael let out a low groan against your skin, the vibration sending a shiver through your inner thighs. he pressed his face closer, his nose nudging into your wetness as his strokes grew wider, hungrier, fumbling his way into a steady rhythm as he drank you in.
"y’taste so good," he rushed out. "so sweet. god, you're so wet."
he was obsessed with every sound coming out of you and wanted to hear more. he slid his middle finger back inside your slick opening, drawing another broken sound from you as your hips jolted off the leather.
michael's nose nudged against your clit as he let out a shaky breath against your skin. he pushed his finger a little deeper, trying to find a rhythm between the lapping of his tongue and the slide of his hand. he experimented with different pressures until his fingertip nudged against a rougher, textured spot along your gummy walls. your entire body convulsed.
a cry tore from your throat, your fingers instantly tangling in his soft curls to pull him closer.
michael let out a muffled moan against your inner thigh. realizing what he'd just stumbled onto, he tentatively pressed his finger against that same spot again, curling it just a fraction while his tongue swirled over your clit.
"does that feel good?" he whispered against your skin. he didn't pull away, his mouth still hovering there.
"y-yes," you choked out, your hips twitching against the seat. "mikey, feels so good."
he buried his face back into you. he sucked on your clit while his finger gently hooked that spot again. the sensation was so overwhelming your eyes rolled back. you were dripping, the wet sounds of his finger working inside you blending with the sound of his breathing. he kept tracing that sweet spot, his finger prodding clumsily, completely losing himself in the way your body buckled and shuddered beneath his mouth.
but the closer he worked you toward the edge, the more his own desire built. his breathing grew louder as he kept his face buried against you.
"you're doin’ so good," he murmured.
he was so worked up, so overwhelmed by how wet you were — and god, those noises spilling from your lips.
without realizing it, he started grinding into the leather seat cushions, rubbing against them to find some relief while he worked you over.
michael was determined to make you cum, he needed to feel it.
he shifted his angle, his hands sliding beneath your thighs and lifting them, draping your legs over his shoulders as he pulled you closer.
you cried out, because he was even deeper. his face was pressed into you, tongue flattening out again and dragging hard over your entrance.
and then he pushed in, tongue-fucking you. he wasn't even coming up for air, like he didn't even want to.
you could hear the obscene, sloppy sounds of his fingers fucking into you, the suction of his lips over your clit and his moans — god he moaned so much — but you weren't doing much better.
every attempt at a coherent thought dissolved into broken mewls and breathless squeaks. you were climbing so fast you could barely comprehend the pleasure rushing through you.
he lined two fingers this time, sliding into you in one smooth motion, palm facing up. his knuckles dragged across the slick heat of your entrance, easing past the resistance like you were made to take him.
he found that heavenly spot again, pressing into it until you were seeing stars.
your thighs began to tremble, your toes curling as the muscles around his fingers clamped down hard.
"fuck, michael— wait, 'm gonna—"
you couldn't even finish the sentence. your hips jerked off the seat, your body going rigid as the first wave of pleasure crashed through you. a loud cry tore from your throat as your fingers flew to his hair.
michael let out a muffled groan against you as your walls began to spasm around his fingers, squeezing them in pulsing waves. he stayed right there, working you through it as your sweet release slipped around his fingers, creating embarrassing squelching noises. he panted heavily against your inner thighs, trapped between your legs while you shook.
his fingers slowly slipped out of you as he exhaled, the motion drawing another twitch from you. he pushed himself back until he was sitting on his heels. he looked like a wreck — his face flushed, his lips wet all the way to his chin. he swallowed hard, glancing down at his hand before lifting his eyes to yours.
"you okay?" he whispered, his voice thick. "was that alright?"
a soft laugh escaped you. "yeah, it was perfect. you sure you haven’t done this before?"
he let out a breathless laugh, equal parts relief and embarrassment. he looked out the window, rubbing the back of his neck with his clean hand as the dark skin flushed deeper. "never."
you reached out, wrapping your hand around the back of his neck and gently pulling him toward you.
eagerly, he leaned into you until his chest pressed against yours. when your lips met, the kiss was soft at first, filled with quiet gratitude, before it slowly deepened. you could still taste yourself on his tongue, and it made your head spin.
he groaned softly into your mouth, his clean hand coming up to cup your jaw, his thumb brushing your cheek as he kissed you again like he couldn't stop. when you finally pulled apart for air, his forehead rested against yours, his breath warm against your lips.
his gaze flicked to the analogue clock on the dashboard, and he let out a soft sigh.
“‘s getting real late." he whispered as he reached down to find your panties, handing them over to you with a gentle look. "i should get y'home before your family starts worryin’ 'bout where you're at. i don't want 'em thinkin' bad of you... or me."
you laughed softly as you pulled your panties back on. "i know you're just worried about your own reputation, mr. gentleman."
michael laughed.
the ride back that night wasn't nearly as tense as you'd expected. when he dropped you off, you waved a quick goodbye before practically sprinting inside, your heart doing flips the whole way.
michael had gone home that night in a daze, staring up at his ceiling until the sun came up. he could still feel the dizzying taste of you still lingering on his tongue.
every time he closed his eyes, his mind flashed back to the way you ground down against him. he couldn't shake the memory of those little moans slipping from your lips whenever he'd rub against you just right. it had taken everything in him not to cum in his pants.
though, what happened after that was between him and the four walls of his bedroom.
on the other hand, every time you tried to do something productive, your mind wandered.
all you could think about was how his dick had twitched against your clit through your jeans — god, he'd felt so big. even through two layers of denim, he felt so thick, so hard beneath you. you could still feel the pressure of his fingers digging into your hips, dragging you down so he could grind up into you harder. your underwear had been soaking wet, rubbing against him.
and fuck, his mouth.
you couldn’t stop your mind from going to the dirtiest places. if he was that needy without even being touched, what would he be if you actually did more? you couldn’t help but picture him pinning you down on a bed, gripping your thighs to pull them wide open, and just rutting himself inside you—
no. what were you thinking?
you shoved yourself up from the bed, practically marching into the bathroom before you could let your mind wander any further down that rabbit hole.
turning the tap all the way to the right, you waited until the water ran freezing cold before splashing a handful over your face. the icy shock hit your skin like a slap, stealing a gasp from your lungs as water dripped down your neck and into the collar of your shirt.
you grabbed a towel and dried your face before staring at yourself in the mirror.
get a grip. what is wrong with you?
you headed back to your bedroom, finally feeling a little more grounded. the second you sat down, the phone rang. it was michael, his voice soft and hesitant as he asked if you wanted to come over for a while.
before you could even talk yourself out of it, you were pulling into his driveway.
stepping into his house, the familiar warmth of the place did nothing to settle the nerves twisting in your gut.
michael greeted you with a small smile before gesturing toward the stairs.
you followed him upstairs, the familiar routine of making your way to his bedroom easing some of the tension in your chest. once inside, michael crossed the room to switch on his stereo, keeping the music low while you kicked off your shoes and settled onto the carpet with your back against the side of his mattress.
when he turned around and saw you'd already claimed the floor, he laughed softly before flopping face-down onto the bed. he slid down until his head hung over the edge.
"you're really gonna sit on the floor? there's a whole bed right here," he said, his voice all soft.
"yeah, well, the carpet is cooler. plus, you take up the whole mattress anyway," you said, resting your arms on your knees.
"i do not," he scoffed, rolling onto his back to stare up at the ceiling. he tucked his hands behind his head.
you fell back into your usual conversation.
you both were great at not addressing the elephant in the room.
a wave of relief washed over you as you listened to him ramble about some silly show he'd stayed up watching the night before. you'd spent the entire drive over with sweaty palms, convinced he was going to sit you down and talk about what happened in his car.
just listening to the sound of his voice, the knot in your chest finally began to loosen. your mind was still a little loud — it was impossible to completely forget the way he'd gripped your hips — but his easy, familiar energy grounded you. he wasn't pushing or making things awkward, and for the first time in days, it almost felt like nothing had changed.
"oh, wait, i almost forgot," michael said, popping up onto his elbows. he looked down at you, his eyes bright with that boyish excitement he always got whenever he had something new to show you. "i got something yesterday. hold on."
he scrambled off the bed and padded over to his closet. after rummaging around for a moment, he pulled out a colourful cardboard box.
"twister?" you asked, reading the bold letters on the front as he walked back over.
"yeah!" he grinned, dropping to his knees on the carpet as he tore the plastic wrap off the box. "i saw it the other day and i had to get it."
you chuckled, shaking your head as you crawled over to help him clear a space on the bedroom floor.
"michael, you know you're way too flexible for this to be a fair fight."
"that's not true," he scoffed, shaking out the large white mat covered in bright red, blue, yellow, and green dots. "you have good balance. 's totally fair. here, you spin first."
he tossed the little cardboard spinner toward you, and for the first ten minutes, it was just stupid fun. you kept up your usual chatter, laughing and teasing each other every time the spinner landed on something inconvenient.
it felt normal.
but the game had no intention of letting it stay that way.
"left hand, green," michael muttered, reaching over his own arm to flick the spinner. he glanced down at where the arrow landed before looking back up at you with a grin. "right foot, red for you."
you groaned, eyeing the mat. to reach the only open red dot, you had to stretch directly over him. keeping both hands planted on their blue dots, you lifted your hips and stretched your leg across, hovering right above him.
michael was propped up on his left hand and right foot, waiting for you to make your move. but the second you shifted, his breath caught.
from where he was on the floor, he had an unobstructed, up-close view of your ass, the fabric of your shorts pulled taut as you stretched into the awkward position.
michael's brain blanked. the playful comment he was about to make died in his throat. he tried — he really did — to look away.
he blinked hard, forcing his gaze toward the closet door, then down to his hand on the green dot as his breathing picked up.
but it was like a magnet. his gaze snapped right back to you, tracing the curve of your hips as his mind flashed to the heat of his car a few nights ago — to the memory of exactly how it had felt to hold you right there.
heat flooded his veins, burning all the way up to the tips of his ears.
"okay," you said, letting out a breath as your foot settled on the red dot. "your turn. spin it."
the mat had become so crowded that michael had to awkwardly lean over his own arm to reach the spinner again, letting out a strained laugh as he stretched across the mat. as he shifted, you adjusted to give him room.
"don't move," you panted, your arms beginning to shake. "if you move, i'm gonna fall."
"i'm trying, i swear—" michael started, a breathless laugh escaping him as he glanced up at you. but his foot slipped on the smooth plastic.
you let out a yelp before collapsing straight onto him. the two of you tumbled into a tangled heap, laughing as you landed sprawled across his chest, your hips settling over his lap.
for a second, you were both recovering from the fall, your laughter echoing in the bedroom. but as your giggles faded and you leaned up on your elbows to look down at him, the amusement vanished.
michael went still beneath you. his hands hovered uncertainly by your waist, trembling as though he didn't know where to put them. he stared straight up at you, his chest rising and falling beneath yours, his lips slightly parted as his breath caught. up this close, his eyes were wide, his pupils so blown they nearly swallowed the brown of his irises.
it felt like the universe was doing everything it could to push you together. you were seriously starting to think you'd jinxed yourself. every time you convinced yourself things were finally back to normal, the universe found a way to prove you wrong within minutes.
because beneath the fabric of your shorts, you felt the unmistakable hardness growing against your thigh.
michael’s gaze darted to where your hips were pressed against his. he looked mortified, caught red-handed in a way he couldn't hide.
his hands came to rest at your waist. with the gentlest touch, he tried to ease you back and off him.
"'m sorry," he whispered, his voice real soft as he gave you a small, embarrassed smile. "it'll go away if y'just... give me a minute."
the way you were looking at him had him bringing up both his hands up, burying his face in his palms to hide the crimson flushing his cheeks.
he looked so sweet and so overwhelmed. it made you lean down closer towards him.
"I swear I didn't invite y’over for this," his muffled voice came from behind his hands. He slowly lowered his palms, his dark skin flushed a deep crimson all the way to the tips of his ears as he looked up at you. "I jus’ wanted to hang out with you… like before."
you bit the inside of your cheeks. "i know, mikey," you said, your voice steady despite the racing of your heart. "’s been weird not seeing you as much the last few days.”
“yeah?”
"yeah," you murmured, looking down at him. now that you were this close, keeping up the casual front was getting harder. "but if i'm being honest... i haven't really been able to stop thinking about it. ever since the couch... and the car."
michael's eyes searched yours, his features softening as the tension melted from his shoulders. he let out a long, slow exhale, his head settling back against the carpet.
when he looked at you again, his gaze wandered over your face, lingering like he was trying to memorize every detail.
"i missed you these last few days... and i miss y'now, even when you're sittin' right here." he swallowed. "i jus'..." he whispered, searching your face. "i jus' wanna be close t'you."
his fingertips tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear. "i wanna hold you." his voice faltered. "i don't wanna keep pretendin' this doesn't mean somethin'."
he let out a slow breath, his forehead nearly brushing yours. "...i think i need you more than i know what t'do with."
for a moment, you couldn't find a single thing to say. a surge of giddiness hit you so hard you had to fight to keep your face from splitting into a grin. you desperately swallowed down the high-pitched squeal threatening to bubble up your throat, forcing yourself to keep it together so you wouldn't give away just how badly he'd short-circuited your brain.
so you did the only thing you could think of.
you leaned down and kissed him, your hands framing his face, your fingers curling against his jaw as you pulled him up to you.
the kiss spoke for itself, pouring every ounce of the frustration and longing you couldn't put into words straight into his mouth.
you parted your lips, sliding your tongue against his with an urgency that drew a muffled gasp from him.
the sound only made you press closer, your chest flattening against his as you drank him in.
there was a profound ache to the kiss. almost like the release of all the secret longing he'd been hiding away for days. it felt like he was pouring his whole soul into your mouth, every stroke of his tongue tracing a quiet plea against yours. he kissed you like a man who had been starving in the dark, his lips sealing over yours with a reverent hunger that made your chest ache.
he dragged his mouth away from yours, his breath coming in shallow puffs as he kissed a trail down your cheek, his lips hot against your skin. he pressed a string of kisses along your chin and jaw before his mouth found your neck.
a quiet moan slipped from your lips as he found the sensitive spot just beneath your ear. his lips parted as he sucked gently at the soft skin, the drag of his mouth making your hips twitch against his lap.
you slid your hand down his chest, past his belt, until your palm rested over the hard ridge beneath the fabric, giving it a gentle squeeze.
michael choked on his breath, his hand flying to still your wrist.
"i wanna make you feel good too, mikey.”
"y'don't have to... 's not good for you," he whispered, his fingers trembling around your wrist.
"not good for me?" you murmured, tilting your head. "but it was fine for you to do it to me?"
he bit his lip, looking away. "'s different f'you. you're... you're a lady. i don't want you messin' with somethin'... like that."
you bit back a smile. "like what?"
"somethin'... dirty," he mumbled, avoiding your eyes.
“michael, you tongue-fucked me in the backseat of your car, but this is where you draw the line?”
your blunt words made him look like he wanted the floor to open up and swallow him whole. he immediately buried his face behind both hands, heat rushing into his cheeks.
"d-don't say it like that," he mumbled from behind his hands.
you laughed softly, pressing a kiss to his knuckles before gently pulling his hands away.
leaning closer, you pressed a soft kiss to his jaw, dragging your lips to the sensitive skin just underneath his ear. “please let me, mikey. i want to. don’t you wanna feel good?”
his fingers reached up to gently tangle in your hair, holding you close.
"i do..." he whispered. he swallowed hard, a tiny smile tugging at his lips. "i want to so bad... it's jus' scary. y'make me... so nervous." he let out a quiet laugh before biting his lower lip.
"me? make you nervous?" you murmured, a smile tugging at your lips.
instead of answering, michael slid his hand from your hair, trailing down your arm until his palm found yours. he wrapped his fingers around your hand and guided it to his chest, pressing your palm firmly over his heart, letting you feel how rapidly it was beating.
"see?" he whispered, his eyes locked on yours.
you let out a quiet breath before taking his other hand and guiding it to the center of your chest, your heart hammering just as hard beneath his palm.
a soft exhale escaped him before his fingers slid from your chest to cup your jaw. he caught your lips in a kiss, sealing his mouth over yours.
slowly, you broke the kiss and shifted off him, moving until you were kneeling between his legs at the edge of the twister mat. michael's breath caught, his arms falling back against the carpet, his fingers gripping the edge of the plastic mat as he watched you. the room felt impossibly quiet now, the low music from his stereo nothing more than a distant hum beneath the sound of his shallow breathing.
looking down at the waistband of his trousers, a fresh wave of nerves washed over you. you couldn't believe you were seeing michael — of all people — like this.
your fingers trembled as you reached out, your knuckles brushing the fabric. you worked the button of his trousers loose, the click of the metal loud in the quiet room. carefully, you pulled his zipper down.
michael's stomach rolled as he drew in a heavy breath, his abdomen tightening while you parted the denim and gently eased his underwear down just enough.
when he finally sprang free, your breath caught. he was thick, long, already glistening at the tip, the length of him pulsing faintly in the light.
tentatively, you wrapped your fingers around the base of him, giving him a soft, experimental squeeze.
michael let out a sharp hiss through his teeth, his eyes squeezing shut as his back stiffened against the side of the bed.
"o-oh— my—" he gasped, his knuckles paling where around the carpet under his hands.
"am i hurting you?" you asked, your hand halting.
"no, no," he rushed out between heavy breaths. he glanced down at your hand around him before lifting his eyes back to yours, his voice dropping into a shaky murmur. "jus'... 's real sensitive. your hands are cold."
you let out a breathy laugh. “‘m sorry.”
wanting to tease him a little, you extended your index finger. carefully, you traced the pad of your finger along the prominent vein running beneath his length.
michael let out a strained groan, his hips squirming weakly against the floor. you kept your eyes on his face, watching his eyelids flutter and his throat bob with every stroke.
when your hand reached the very top, you lightened your touch until it was barely there. using just the tip of your finger, you slowly circled the crown, swirling through the clear bead of pre-cum gathering there.
a loud whimper slipped from his lips, his hips jerking upward. he bit down hard on his lower lip, his chest rising and falling with uneven breaths. he didn't think he'd ever been more turned on in his life.
"please," he breathed, his voice cracking as his eyes grew glassy. "please don't tease me."
"but you like it, don't you?" you murmured, a smile tugging at your lips.
michael let out a strained sound, his head falling back as he stared helplessly at the ceiling.
"don't you, mikey?" you coaxed.
"don't... don't make me say it," he whispered, an embarrassed laugh slipping free as his shoulders shook.
you smiled but didn't press him any further. instead, you shifted closer, leaning down between his thighs as your hand stroked him with more purpose, your thumb smoothing over the ridge.
when you finally parted your lips and took the warm, wet tip of him into your mouth, michael let out a broken moan, gasping as you swirled your tongue around the crown. his eyebrows pinched together as he looked down at you.
your long lashes cast soft shadows against your flushed cheeks as your eyes lifted to meet his. his chest tightened. he couldn't stop staring at the way your lips moved around him, at the shine of your mouth every time you pulled back before taking him in again. you looked so pretty.
too pretty to be doing this to him.
every filthy thought he'd been too embarrassed to let himself have came rushing forward all at once, and for the first time, he didn't have it in him to push them away.
all he wanted was more. deeper. slower. again. he didn't know where one thought ended and the next began anymore. his hands flew straight up to cover his mouth, trying to muffle helpless whimpers spilling out.
and you took that as a challenge to see just how loud you could get him.
you wrapped your fingers firmly around his base, your hand acting as an anchor. you focused entirely on the very top. you parted your lips just enough to take the sensitive crown back into your mouth, using the flat of your tongue to apply a heavy pressure, dragging it flat across the ridge in long strokes.
above you, michael's entire body stiffened. a gasp caught behind his palms.
you didn't give him a second to recover. keeping your tongue flat against the underside of the tip, you swirled it in tight circles right over the slit, matching the pace with a pulsing squeeze of your hand at the base.
a high, broken whine tore from his throat, his hands flying to your head as his lower body gave a helpless twitch, his hips lifting off the carpet. he tried to ground himself, his long legs tensing, but god, you were killing him.
the slick sound of your mouth sucking him so greedily was so filthy.
michael's hips jerked upward again, pushing him deeper into your mouth.
just as he was about to apologize, you swallowed past the tightness in your throat and hummed against him. the vibration drew a pathetic little squeak from him.
you wrapped your free hand around the very base of him, twisting your palm as you slid it up to meet your lips, catching the trailing wetness before spreading it back down his length. your mouth settled into a slow, sloppy rhythm.
you pushed forward, taking his dick deeper down your throat than before. the heavy stretch forced a gag from your chest, tears welling up in your eyes and spilling over your lashes from the intrusion.
he was practically trying to run from you, backing up until his shoulders bumped against the edge of the bed, trapped between the frame and the pull of your mouth.
you kept your eyes on his, taking in every flicker of pleasure across his face, every flutter of his lashes, every pinch of his brows. you wanted to remember him exactly like this, committing every twitch of his jaw and every dark flush to memory.
watching him lose himself underneath you made your own core throb. you subtly pressed your thighs together, hoping the pressure would dull the ache. it didn't.
"w-wait, wait, 'm gonna— ah—"
his voice broke completely, a high, panicked whimper tearing through the room as his abdomen knotted.
michael panicked, realizing you weren't getting off. his hand frantically shot down to grip your shoulder, trying to pull you up and off him, desperate to keep you from getting a mouthful of something he was convinced would gross you out.
but you weren't a quitter.
you gently brushed his hands away, tightening your grip on his base without pulling away.
he came with a loud, broken groan, his hips giving three jolts forward. your name slipped from his lips in a breathless whine that you knew would replay in your mind for days. you held him tight through the tremors, swallowing down the hot bursts of his cum, continuing to suck softly even as his body shivered and went lax against the edge of the bed.
when the final twitch subsided, you slowly slid your mouth off him, the wet sound of the release echoing in the quiet of the bedroom. you swallowed the last of him, cleaning up the stray wetness along his length with a slow swipe of your tongue before sitting back on your heels.
michael was a puddle against the side of his bed. his chest was heaving in deep drafts, one arm flung over his eyes while the other lay limp across the carpet, his fingers still twitching every now and then. the deep crimson in his cheeks had spread all the way down his neck, disappearing beneath the collar of his shirt.
michael let out a weak little groan from beneath his arm as you tucked him back into his pants. slowly, he peeked out from under his elbow, his large, glassy eyes lifting to you as you climbed back over him.
he reached out, his fingers finding yours before gently pulling your hand toward him. he lifted it to his mouth, pressing a soft kiss into the center of your palm, his lips warm against your skin.
bringing his face close to yours, he leaned in, his eyelids fluttering shut as he pressed a tender kiss to your left cheek, then your right, his curls brushing against your face. when he finally found your lips, the kiss was slow and so, so sweet.
you pulled back just an inch, your fingers resting on his shoulders as you looked down at his flushed face. a playful smile tugged at the corner of his lips.
“i won, by the way.”
michael let out a quiet huff of a laugh, his shoulders shaking beneath you.
"you did not," he protested "the mat was slippery, 's all. it don't count."
"it does count," you laughed, finally climbing off him to sit cross-legged on the carpet.
"absolutely not. you fell right on top of me!"
"yeah, because you moved and made me fall!" you shot back, gesturing at the crumpled plastic. "you lost your footing, michael. just admit it."
“i didn’t lose because the game was rigged," he insisted.
"keep telling yourself that."
"y’know what, i will," he murmured, a soft grin breaking across his face.
you rolled your eyes, reaching over to help him gather up the ruined twister mat that was probably headed straight for the trash.
you were glad the awkwardness of the last few days had finally melted away. you and michael were still the same two idiots arguing over who won a game of twister.
the only thing that had changed was everything in between.
───୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ───
im so bad at writing endings like GODDDDD
and twister positions
i had a bit of a diff vision for this originally but unfortunately i stink with words so i'll see if i can make up for it in a potenial p3
also his confession was (loosely) inspired by the intro of his song, i can't stop loving you :p
one-shot. smut. inexperienced!pre-otw!mike x experienced!fem!reader. sub!mike. softdom!reader. praise. loss of virginity. blk!reader in mind. not proof-read .✦ ݁˖ mikey’s tired of being a virgin. masterlist
embarrassed was a poor choice of words.
michael was ashamed.
his brothers have wives, girlfriends, hookups, and michael didn’t even get his first kiss yet. he thought he was pathetic, really. and as much as michael is a shy guy, he’s also desperate for advice. so who else would he go to than to his childhood best friend?
you were quite literally perfection is michael’s eyes. beautiful hair that you always styled differently yet so entirely you, radiating smile, tons of attention from boys, and an insane clothing style to the point michael might or might’ve not tried to have his stylists make him matching outfits.
and god, how could he forget those thighs? plump, soft and squishy. he couldn’t help the way his eyes darted to them everytime you guys went swimming together and you wore that tiny hot pink bikini he loved.
you were probably the most gorgeous girl he’s ever laid eyes on. which is why you’re the first person he asks for advice, of course.
“i don’t get it, you’re telling me you never even kissed a girl?” you asked gently, tilting your head as you looked up into his big brown eyes, a small chuckle leaving your lips.
“no! like, i know m’not the best looking, but—“ he muttered, before you stopped him by placing a finger to his lips.
“don’t say that.” you whispered, the tension in the air suddenly getting thicker. “m’not boutta sit here and listen to you insult the prettiest face ever.” you added, a gentle smile appearing on your face as your hands cupped his cheeks.
michael giggled and blush, his cheeks getting all rosy as he looked away. “you don’t mean that.” he replied, his voice soft and silky as he looked back at you, still smiling all flustered.
“oh, but i do, angelface. you just have to be the handsomest boy i’ve ever met.” you added, smiling wider and wider as the seconds passed.
you adored michael, truly. some might even say you were in love with him, truthfully. tho, never have you made a move — you always assumed michael wasn’t into relationships, or all the messes that came with it. you thought he was too gentle, too nice, too sweet to be with you — a maneater. you’ve always told yourself that you’re not the kind of girl michael is into, that he probably loves softer, gentler girls that match his personality style, and you couldn’t have been more wrong.
michael loved dominant women. those who knew their worth, who don’t take bullshit, who aren’t scared to put people in their places. the kind of woman that makes his knees weak, and his mind blank. aka you.
“i can’t believe a girl like you would want to hang around someone like me.” he whispered, his doe eyes staring down into yours.
“what are you sayin’, mike?” you mumbled, your voice softer as you kept your hands on his cheeks.
“i-i just..” he muttered before sighing, his eyes fluttering closed for a second, his long lashes hitting his cheeks. “i feel like such a loser. i-i’ve never.. y’know, done anything with a girl — let alone kiss her. am i that ugly?” he added, his eyes fluttering back open, yet still looking down at his thighs like he was ashamed.
“michael, look at me.” you whispered, your voice a bit more firm now, mike’s head lifting up and staring into your eyes with his big sad ones. “m’gonna show you how pretty you are.” you breathed out, which made shivers go down michael’s spine. “tell me if you want to stop, pretty boy.”
“wha— what?” he mumbled, stumbling over his words as you smiled, looking up at him while his cheeks were bright pink, his eyes scanning all over your face.
your lips slowly went over his, a soft gasp escaping michael’s throat into your mouth. his hands hovered over you, his brain already mush just from the feel and taste of your strawberry lipgloss on his lips. “w-wait—!” he suddenly gasped out, his hands going to your shoulders as you leaned back. “w-what are you— um, what are you d-doin’..?” michael asked gently, his breathing already quicker and heavier as he looked down at you, confused.
“m’givin’ you love.” you replied, voice still gentle — compared to your public persona. “s’okay if you don’t want to, michael.” you added, wanting to make him feel at ease as possible.
“y-you.. you don’t have to do this because you’re pitying me.” He mumbled, looking away as he fidgeted with his fingers.
michael’s words made you stare at him in silence, before a soft sigh left your nostrils, your eyes closing before your hands went back to his cheeks. “michael, m’not doin’ this cause i pity you.” you replied, smiling exasperatedly. “i wish you knew for how long i’ve wanted this. wish you could understand how my heart races when you’re around.” you added, which made michael’s breath hitch, his hands already gripping the sheets while his heart raced.
“you don’t have to reply.” you replied, michael staring into your eyes like he couldn’t peel his gaze away. “d’you want me to kiss you again?” you whispered, your breath ghosting over his lips. michael eagerly nodded his head, which made you smile. “words, baby.” the petname made michael’s body go warm, biting his lower lip in nervousness.
“y-yes, please. p-please kiss me.” he fumbled over his words, which made you smile and kiss him again.
you guided him through it. he was kissing you messily, trying his best to imitate your lips moving against his, his hands shakily resting against your waist, remembering all the stuff his brothers told him before. you could feel his trembling hands wander over you clumsily, not really knowing what he’s doing.
your hands gripped his wrists gently, your lips parting from him which made michael leave out a sad little noise. “michael, you don’t have to act like you know everything.” you whispered, your lips going to his jawline, which made him gasp and immediately throw his head back. “jus’ lemme take care of you.” you added, your hands running over his clothed chest as you lips kept moving down his skin onto his throat — sucking gentle hickeys.
michael fought with his own body, biting back on his lower lip until you gently nibbled down on his warm skin. “i wanna hear all the pretty noises you make, please.” you mumbled breathily against his skin, before going back to pressing kisses and gentle sucks on his throat.
it was like your words set something off in michael, a small whine leaving his lips, sending tingles all over your body. you loved seeing him unravel like him.
your lips traced slowly lower, lips moving across his throat and onto his shoulders, his breathing quickening as his hands trembled. “are you okay?” you whispered against his skin, your hands slowly pulling the hem of shirt he was wearing higher.
“m-m’fine, m-m’just— m’just nervous.” he admitted embarrassingly, looking away with a red face that made you giggle at his shyness.
“that’s okay. that’s normal.” your whispered, pulling the shirt higher until you took it off his shoulders, throwing it away behind you. “but i promise, m’gonna make you feel so good.” you added, pressing a soft kiss on his bare torso, michael’s eyes fluttering closed as he let out a shaky sigh.
your lips traced lower and lower, until your small fingers gripped michael’s belt, making him gasp and grip your wrists.
“w-wait—! i-i can’t let you—!” he mumbled hurriedly, his breathing heavy and loud now.
you looked up into michael’s eyes, yours full of need for the man you’ve craved for so long. “why not? i want to. do you want me to?” you asked gently, the eye contact making michael melt and bite his lower lip.
“b-but.. it’s so dirty.. i-i can’t let you do that..” he mumbled shyly, one of his hands going over his lips, which made you smile.
“s’okay, i wanna be dirty for you.” you whispered, your hands slowly undoing his belt, michael’s breath trembling as he gripped his own thighs.
you unzipped his jeans, tugging them slightly down to see the huge tent in michael’s boxers while he stared down at you. you pressed a soft kiss against his clothed hard-on, keeping eye contact as you looked up into his eyes through your lashes.
michael gasped loudly, his hips twitching up against you, his cheeks bright red. “m-m’sorry—!” He mumbled, before a shaky sigh left his lips as you kept pressing long open mouthed kisses against the thin cotton of his underwear.
“don’t apologize baby, just means m’doing my job right.” you breathed out, your fingers delicately pulling down on the strap of his boxers, making his hard cock slap against your face, making you smile.
michael gasped at the sight beneath him, his mind already dizzy. “o-oh god, oh god..” he panted, hands trembling against his thighs.
you kissed his pretty and flushed tip, making his dick twitch and a choked whimper leave his lips, his eyes fluttering. “breathe, baby.” you whispered, offering kitten licks all over the fat head of his cock, mewls leaving his lips.
as much as michael tried to breathe, he couldn’t slow down his heart. your lips slowly wrapped around his tip, making him gasp and buck his hips up against your face instinctively. the deeper you took him in your throat, the louder his noises were. your throat was so warm, wet and perfect — and you wanted to have him in. you wanted him.
it didn’t take long until you were bobbing your head up and down, loud slurping sounds as you hollowed your cheeks in, tongue swirling around his hard cock nestled deep into your throat. he was huge, and you kept gagging and drooling over him. the sight was so dirty, and michael couldn’t stop the loud moans leaving his plump lips.
“a-agh, g-god—! baby, babybabybaby—“ he cried out, his long slim fingers sliding into your curls, not pushing your head down but just needing to hold you.
you felt him twitch in your mouth, and his whimpers slowly got a higher pitch. you quickly pulled your mouth off him, a loud “pop!” sound filling your ears as you looked up at him, dick pressed against your cheeks with spit all over your chin, smiling with hazy eyelids.
“y-you look so d-dirty..” michael whispered, his cock twitching again — his body in contrast with his words which made you giggle.
“have you ever touched a woman, michael?” you asked gently, sitting back up, your hands slowly peeling the straps of you tank top off your shoulders with a smile.
michael’s breath hitched, his eyes going to your bare shoulders with a huge blush, heart racing. “n-no.” he rasped out, voice shaky as you threw your shirt god knows where, leaving you in a lacy hot pink and black bra.
“do you want to?” you whispered, getting closer, michael’s hands hovering around your bare waist, his lips parted open as he panted.
“p-please.” he whined, his eyes meeting yours, full of need which made you giggle.
your hands went over his, guiding them to your waist, before your lips went back to his, moving slowly as michael’s hands gripped your waist out of instinct.
“you feel so good against me.” you whispered against his lips, slowly crawling over his lap, making michael gasp into your mouth. your clothed pussy was right against his bare cock, still rock hard and needy from the orgasm denial you forced upon him earlier. “d’you wanna see me fully?”
michael nodded quickly and eagerly, his hands still on your waist. “y-yes, yes..” he breathed out, voice trembling while his eyes stayed on your tits sitting so prettily due to your bra.
you smiled gently, your hips slightly raising as you slid your shorts and panties down in one go, your pussy glistening from arousal just by sucking michael’s cock.
you settled back down on michael’s lap, his hard cock sliding between your wet folds, both of you letting out a shaky sigh.
“o-oh g-god, you’re s-so wet..” whimpered michael, his head throwing back as you slowly grind down against him, your wetness coating his length, gentle sighs leaving your lips.
your eyes scanned over him, realizing his size. sure, you weren’t unexperienced, it’s not like you’ve never seen a dick before — but god, michael was big. not super thick — but he was long. you bit your lip at the mix of the image of mike’s cock glistening with your wetness and your clit grinding against said length.
“i-i need to feel you inside me. y’gonna let me? gonna let me ride you?” you whispered, grinding a bit faster against michael, his eyes fluttering closed as his hips bucket up against yours.
“p-please.” he cried out, and you didn’t need to be asked twice.
you lined yourself up with michael’s twitching dick, shivering before you slowly slid down, inch by inch, feeling him stretch you open. your eyes fluttered closed, loud moans leaving your lips as your body adjusted to michael’s size. michael was whimpering, his hands squeezing your waist as they trembled, eyes practically rolling back as you slid down his length.
once you bottomed out, michael whined your name, his arms wrapping around your waist as he hid his face in your neck, panting heavily between whimpers. “o-oh b-babyyyy, f-feels soooo good..” he whimpered, hips twitching as he trembled.
you slowly started bouncing your hips over his, the tip of his cock hitting those perfect spongy spots inside you that already had you seeing white. “c-can’t believe m’your f-first, g-god fuck—“ you whimpered, slowly speeding up as wet sounds filled the room, a continuous “shlick , shlick , shlick” mixed with moans and whimpers. “w-wanna have you everyday, m-my boy..” you whispered against michael’s hairline as he kept his face in the crook of your neck, hypnotized by the feeling of your tight walls around him.
michael’s whimpers got louder and louder at your words, and you could feel him twitch inside you as you kept riding him, his hands now roaming all over your body in desperation — a stark contrast in confidence compared to earlier.
“i-i can’t, y’feel t-too good, o-ohhh—“ michael cried out, his head throwing back as your fingers went down to rub your swollen clit.
“m’so close, angel. p-please cum with me.” you whispered, breath ghosting over michael’s face as you kept riding him, ass bouncing against him.
michael’s eyes darted down, looking at your tiny hole swallowing him with each bounce until you started clenching around him — and it was all too much.
michael came deep inside you with cries of your name, his eyes closing as his hips twitched up, squeezing your waist. “o-oh—! i-i love you—!”
his words sent a spark down your spine, making you cum quickly after him. loud mewls left your lips as you clamped down around him, sucking his cock in like you never wanted to let go.
you collapsed against his chest, panting heavily while small drops of michael’s cum slid out of you, rolling down against his thighs while you sat seated on his lap.
“i love you too.” you whispered against michael’s shoulder, pressing a soft kiss as he panted heavily.
a/n: PHEWWWW this is my longest fic yet 😭😭😭 i hate how i wrote this eughh also my first mj fanfic pls b nice … pls accept my blog mjtumblr also PLSS CAN U TELL I LIKE DIRTY TALK
the world knew that michael was a lover boy, he worshipped the ground women walked on and treated them with such gentleness as if they were porcelain—you fell into that category as his lady.
but they didn’t know michael had such a perverse mindset, that behind the shades hid a leering gaze on the body that was solely his.
michael was a man of good faith—he tried his best not to gawk at you but how could he not? its like everything you did was a test of his patience. you were temptation on legs.
like once you were walking around the house in a pair of shorts and a tanktop to get through the hot weather, abruptly dropping the CD you were holding. “crap..” you had muttered, bending over to pick it up.
michael had just been about to make his way to the kitchen when he found you in that position—ass puckered in the air and the fabric of your shorts tight over your cheeks.
safe to say? his cock was immediately hard, and he had to hurry off to the bathroom before you saw him.
or like another time when you both were play fighting and you climbed onto him, giggling and tickling his sides, clothed pussy righttt over the growing bulge in his slacks. “mama—… hold on a moment. lemme use the bathroom ‘kay?” he had nervously stammered out, gently moving you off him so he could rush into the bathroom and whip out his cock that was already leaking cum.
and gosh, the most embarrassing memory, when you came out to the pool in a little scrap you called a bathing suit—his cock was achingly hard—but instead of being able to scurry off and handle his business, you spotted it immediately.
that led you to jerk him off on one of the lounge chairs, kissing his neck and whispering into his ear. “aw mikey, you can’t help yourself can you?” he had let out mewls and whispered pleas, his orgasm approaching
“cmon, big daddy, come for me.” you purred seductively in his ear and he was a goner, come spurting out of his cock and making a mess of your hand.
so the world may think hes a gentleman, but in private hes your little pervert.
hey so i saw a rumour (or a fact), that michael liked doing it in risky places? so 😛
⋆˙⟡⋆✿ Michael LOVES fucking you in risky places don’t even get me started. No matter where he is, who’s around, he struggles to resist the temptation of pushing you against a wall while hiking one of your legs up, in dire need to show you how hard you make him when you’re barely doing anything besides sitting looking pretty as his girl.
It could be the night of the Grammy Awards, People from all different celeb tiers who seek for Michael’s attention to either congratulate him on being a nominee when it’s no shocker to anybody, or to discuss potential collabs to boost their music career path.
Little do they know that he’s currently thrusting himself into you in an unoccupied space of the venue, yet still close enough to the event where distant chatters falls upon both your ears. How you decide to wear a dress he picked out for you months ago, not having a chance to wear it out until now. It drove him completely insane with how well it didn’t miss a single curve of yours to hug.
“Oh fuck, Michael, please..!” You don’t know what exactly you’re begging for, too cock-drunk to be coherent. He didn’t care, as his cock throbs in preparation to spill into you, drugged on the way your cunt clenches with each drag.
“The second we’re done—shit— you’re gonna go out there and greet all those people, with your cunt leaking full of me. Nobody will know but me, how you’re squeezing me so tight like you don’t ever want me to leave.”
God, it was too much. The high adrenaline coursing through your veins at the possibility of getting caught, it heightens both of your guys’ pleasure. On top of that, the way he’s speaking to you so filthy in contrast to his soft velvet voice, you’re certain it’s the wine talking. You’ll make sure to keep him sipping on that throughout the rest of the night.
The fat head of his cock starts to hit inside you perfectly with the way he angles your leg up a little higher, now deeper than ever before. A loud cry rips out your throat before you could even think to hold it back, his large palm quickly coming up to cover your mouth.
“Shit girl, you want everyone to know how good I’m fucking you, huh? You don’t care if people see you going dumb over my cock?”
No, no you don’t, and he knows that, too. So he picks up his pace, skins slapping harsher together, muffled noises being spewed into his warm hand.
The media will be seeing you wear the same dress for the next couple of events for reasons you will not say.
“Mmh, baby m’so proud of you.” You breathe heavily. Michael’s breath hitches, face heating up as he stare at you. “Y-yeah?” His voice close to a whimper.
Michael received an honorary doctorate today for his contributions to the black education system. Oh you loved him so so much, he was so caring.
That’s why you were riding him right now to let him know just how much you appreciate him.
You lean down, moaning into his mouth as you roll your hips, giving him all of you. He moans into your mouth, hands finally leaving the sheets to grip your hips.
“Hmnh-“ he whimpers, brows furrowed and biting his lip as he runs his hands over your curves. “Love you so much..” he expresses, big doe eyes on yours.
“I love you too baby,” you hum, sitting up and pressing your hands against his chest. “You make me so proud,” you praise.
He whines in adoration, staring up at you like he was gonna melt.
“You do everything for everybody..so handsome..” you moan, rolling your hips slow. Causing him to throw his head back and grip your hips tighter with those big hands of his.
“You’re so caring Michael. So sweet, and an even sweeter soul. Y’know that Mikey?” You ask breathlessly as you tilt your head.
Tears prick his eyes from how good he feels, nodding vastly. “Yes…yes, yes, I know, I swear I know,” He cries, still focused on you. His baby. His lady. All his to love on him.
“Oh my gosh.” He groans with a cry, throwing his head back harshly as his eyes practically roll to the back of his head. He tries to suppress a whimper, but ultimately fails miserably as he moans, sending a few thrust up into your pulsing cunt til your finishing right with him.
You whine, nails digging into his shoulders as you ride out your high, collapsing against him.
After a few moments, you lift your head. Arms crossed underneath your head as you look down at him. “Congratulations ‘graduate’.” You giggle, tracing patterns on his chest.
He sits up ever so slightly, pecking your forehead with a worn out smile. “Thank you mama. I really appreciate that.”
You peck his lips a few times before he’s got a sly grin on his face and his cheeks are real high, an idea coming to him.
“Since you’re so proud of me…you wanna ride me again?” He suggests.
“Just a thought.” He quickly defends as you stare at him with a blank expression.
A/N: idea randomly came to my head, but I love this video of him sm you guys don’t understand.
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— WARNINGS: sub!mike, bratty!mike, dubcon if you close your eyes, somnophilia, objectification, oral sex (f receiving), mentions of edging, overstimulation, power play, manipulation tactics, use of ma’am & daddy (nobody’s shocked atp), use of mama (he said it irl y’all cmon), manhandling, lil hair pulling, needy reader, reader’s kinda a pushover. reader is black but there aren’t any descriptive details, everyone enjoy! not proofread!
— WC: 4.3k
— AN: Uh. Wrote half of this while cross faded. Otw mike, you are so dear to me.
Michael couldn’t stop thinking about eating you out.
It plagued his mind constantly. While he showered in the morning, he had to stop his hands from jerking himself while you slept peacefully in bed, his mind fully suffocated with the thought of your cum on his lips. Whenever you would do your morning stretches, he’d have to force his gaze from your crotch, the leggings you wore outlining it too visibly. Of course you weren’t wearing underwear. During meetings with music executives, he’d find himself zoning out with the thought of your thighs crushing his head between them as he devoured your wet core like it was the tastiest thing in existence— and to him, it was.
He had to stop wearing tight pants because of it. His dick was almost permanently erect at the thought of his lanky frame cowering beneath you as he took you to your peak.
Eventually, his longing thoughts turned into actions.
At first, it was almost unnoticeable. He’d purposely been discreet. The way he subtly bit his lip from his place on his knees after helping you put on your shiny burgundy mary janes. The little tortured sound he’d make while you massaged his head on your lap; not from the intimate ministrations of your fingers working through his thick curls, but at the sheer proximity of his lips and your…other lips.
It wasn’t even like you two rarely had sex. You had it more than most. Something you didn’t realize, though, was that he wouldn’t be satisfied unless he gave you head, and lately all you’ve had time for were quickies. It was great, but he was selfish and needy, always wanting more. So, he just started begging for it.
Before you went to work.
“Mama, please. For just a bit? I’ll be quick, I promise. You can make me pay for it if I don’t make you cum quick,” he begged on his knees while you stood above him in your work attire.
“Michael, no. You see that I’m on my way out the door. You’re good, but you ain’t that good. I’m not goin’ to work all pent up and angry. Gimme a kiss.”
When your friends invited you to ladies night at a new bar in town.
“Can’t let you out lookin’ that good without remindin’ you who’s waitin’ for you at home, mama. Come on, please? Just need to make sure y’know you’re mine. Please baby, I need it.”
“Boy, get the hell up off your knees and walk me to the door. The girls are outside.”
At every end, he was met with rejection, and it was gnawing at him relentlessly.
So came the wake-up tension. He began to realize he couldn’t function more than a day without his head nuzzled between your soft thighs, so he made it part of his morning routine to eat you out right before he showered, careful enough to not wake you from your slumber. He knew he should’ve asked, but he just couldn’t wait. You just looked so pretty while you slept, sporting a soft pout on your lips and his t-shirt ridden up your torso, exposing your underboob. How could he not?
The thing is, his neediness was in turn making you needy as well. On days where he was in a rush in the mornings and he had absolutely no time to fit oral sex into his schedule, you’d feel almost hollow. You had no idea why. Why were you waking up so horny? Why did you have so many vivid wet dreams?
After waking up yet again with what felt like the entirety of the Pacific Ocean dripping from your pussy for the fourth time this week, you decided to do something about it. You were never one to beg, usually being on the receiving end of it, so it was taking you a while to build up courage. In the end, you decided to just…hint at what wanted. You were just too pent up.
After a cold shower that did nothing to ease the ache between your legs, you made your way to the kitchen in nothing but a silk robe and lacy underwear to call your boyfriend, hoping you would catch him at a good time.
Michael had only been at the record label’s annual sales meeting for two hours and was already ready to go home. It was supposed to be short and sweet, but it droned on and on; music execs and songwriters taking their sweet time cracking jokes and talking about weekend plans. What made it worse was that he found his thoughts drifting right back to your pretty clit, and he got called out at one point for it.
“Aye, Mike! What gotchu smilin’ like that, man?” one of his brothers asked at one point. The smile on his face dropped immediately and he dismissed it as him ‘looking forward to the weekend,’ heat crawling up his neck at nearly being caught. He was losing it.
“Excuse me? Mr. Jackson? Oh- I mean Michael. Your lady’s on the line,” a stubby secretary announced as she barged into the meeting room. “She said it’s urgent,” she added as she saw the board director’s annoyance.
“It’s alright, Michael. We’ve pretty much wrapped up for today. Tell her I say hi,” the director replied.
When he made it to the phone, his heart was pounding in worry.
“Baby? What’s wrong? I’m already havin’ Bill bring the car around. Do I needa call an amb–”
“Mikey, hi!” you responded, sounding way too chipper for something important. You never called him while he was at work.
“Lovey? Can you tell me what’s wrong?” he replied, voice leaking with concern.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you…I just. Well, I miss you, baby,” you responded, guilty at your selfishness. You didn’t think about the implications of telling the secretary to say it was ‘urgent,’ and now you felt bad. Michael could practically hear the pout in your voice.
“Oh, baby, I miss you too! My meetin’ just ended, I’m on my way, okay? We can watch Snow White. How’s that sound, mama?” he cooed at you between soft chuckles, his tone sickly sweet. It made you wetter.
“Y-yes, please. Hurry home, ‘kay? I’ll make brunch. I love you,” you responded, trying your best to compose yourself.
“Yes, ma’am. I’ll tell Bill to drive fast as he can without gettin’ us pulled over. See you soon. I love you.”
Click.
Cooking somehow provided a good enough distraction from the growing frustration you had. You hummed to yourself as you cleaned up the mess you made trying to blend up smoothies, giggling to yourself as you imagined your perfect boyfriend making fun of you if he saw it.
You heard the front door creak open and thud shut as soon as you finished setting the quaint dining table and began adjusting the countertop television with the movie.
“Baaaaby!” you exclaimed as your boyfriend entered the room, running into his arms without giving him a moment to set down his stuff. He immediately dropped his things and reciprocated the embrace.
“Oh– Hi, baby. I love this robe on you, n’ you smell so nice,” he replied with his nose in your soft hair.
“You too, pretty boy. Go change n’ come eat. Hurry up, too. I missed you so bad,” you nearly whined at him.
His hand trailed down your back, to the curve of your hips, and then sneakily to the swell of your ass as he peeled himself from your body.
You returned to the kitchen and leaned over the counter to rewind the tape, preoccupied with learning how to master the technology. Long, slender fingers creeped around your waist just as you started getting frustrated, startling you.
“I can help you, baby. Here, let me show you,” Michael whispered against your neck.
You subtly squeezed your thighs together at his breath against your skin.
“M’kay. Just don’t take too long. Don’t want everything gettin’ cold.”
He turned you around and lifted you by your hips, placing you gently against the cold countertop. Kneeling down by your knee, he fumbled with the buttons on the television, demonstrating and explaining different things that were falling on deaf ears. The way his large eyes looked up at you for validation was doing so much more for you than if you were to start playing with yourself right then and there.
“Baby? Did you get that last part? When the remote starts to blin– Oh.” He made eye contact with you then and took a comically audible gulp. The way you were looking at him stopped him in his tracks completely. He looked away bashfully and focused on your knee that was dangling off the counter closest to him. Then his eyes trailed up your pretty thighs. He leaned in and kissed your knee tenderly, sucking in a sharp breath at the intimate contact.
You reached down and slotted your fingers through his thick hair, massaging his head the way you knew he liked it. The poor boy whimpered like he’d never been touched before.
“C’mon, let’s eat,” you drawled, removing your hand from his hair and biting your lip to hold back a smile.
Michael crawled closer to you, positioning himself between your legs and wrapped his hands around your waist, looking up at you like a thirsty animal in search of water.
“Mama…” he started.
“Michael, I took my time with this meal. Get up,” you ordered.
“Please? I had a hard day n’ I need it. Don’t you want me?” he whined.
“Nuh-uh. None of that. Don’t make me say it again,” you warned.
“‘M sorry, I can’t wait…” he whispered as he forcefully pulled your body closer to his face and pressed his nose to your clothed cunt.
“What the hell did I just say?” you questioned him incredulously, trying to steady yourself.
“Smells so good…” he whispered, completely ignoring your protests. He slid his hands to your hips and hooked his fingers into the waistline of your panties, dragging them down without a care in the world.
You thump him on his forehead harshly, appalled at his defiance. To your disdain, he let out the most pathetic moan you’d ever heard from a man.
“Mmnh– and you’re already wet? Oh, god,” he whined, ignoring the pulsing emanating from his temple.
He struggled getting your underwear down, due to you not wanting to lose the power struggle. You pressed your thighs deeper into the marble and attempted closing your legs, but he harshly sucked the most sensitive part of your inner thigh, causing you to loosen up and give him easy access.
“Mike…” you whined.
“I wanna make you feel good. Please, I’ll do everythin’ the way you like it. I’ll go ‘til I can’t breathe. Just wanna taste you,” he begged, looking up at you with his sparkly eyes. He didn’t wait for an answer, and slid his hands right back up your legs, taking two fingers and dragging them lightly against your clit.
“M-Michael, the food,” you tried again, still not ready to give in so easily. He was winning.
“Don’t you want it, mama? I feel how wet you are. Tell me you want it. Please?” he pressed down just a tad harsher, coaxing the response he wanted out of you with just a movement of his fingers. You were embarrassed by just how much he was turning you on like this.
“It’s g-gonna get cold– ah!” you exclaimed as he pinched your clit.
“Tell me you want it? Unless you don’t…Am I not good enough?” he pouted. You knew the game he was playing. You swore you did. But the face he was making…you were losing all sense of right and wrong. And his fingers were doing something to you, but not enough.
He removed his fingers from your sticky pussy and licked them clean, all while maintaining eye contact and moaning graphically. He was playing every card in his deck. He pulled you even closer and rested your legs against his broad shoulders. You said not a word, for fear of your voice betraying you. Instead, you opted for weak nudges to his cheeks and a tug of his hair, but that only fueled him more.
“I like that,” he teased, looking up at you with a smug smile. You pushed his forehead back with your palm as he neared your bare body, and turned your head defiantly. He giggled and darted his tongue out, dragging it along the insides of your thighs, collecting your arousal.
“I can make you feel good, baby. Please let me. C’mon, look at me n’ say it,” he begged again, breath fanning over your naked crotch. You met his eyes again with a defeated look on your face.
“Please…” you whispered.
“Please what? I’ll do anythin’. Tell me what to do,” Michael responded eagerly.
“At least put away the food?” you said, your unsteady tone posing it like a question.
He got up immediately, not leaving one second wasted. He needed you in his mouth much more than he realized. The food was put in tupperware and the smoothies in a freezer-safe pitcher in mere minutes. He washed his hands and returned to his place between your shaky thighs in record time.
“Gonna make you feel so good,” he promised. You rolled your eyes.
“Yeah you bet– F-fuck!” you exclaimed as he swirled his tongue around your clit expertly. You rolled your hips forward, not caring enough about your precarious position on the countertop. You were nearly straddling his shoulders.
The sounds coming from between your legs were filthy. An orchestra of moans and slurps and spitting. Michael was moaning more than you were.
“Mike- ngh. More,” you begged, much to your own embarrassment.
“Mmm, want my fingers?” he asked, looking up at you with your arousal coating the entire bottom half of his face. God, he looked like living sin.
“Yes,” you whispered.
He removed your legs from his shoulders and lifted you from the counter, making you straddle his waist as he stumbled into the living room. You fell back against the couch with a soft thump, and he sunk back onto his knees.
“Michael, your knees? Don’t they hurt?” you asked, suddenly all too worried about his comfort level. As if he cared.
“No, but I wouldn’t care if they did. I’ll do anythin’ to make you feel good,” he all but confessed. You bit your lip and pressed your thighs together very conspicuously.
“You like that?” he asked in disbelief.
“Mikey, stop! I’m embarrassed,” you exclaimed. “Whatever, you win. Fine, I want it. I want you. Just go down on me again, baby. It’s hurtin’” you whined.
“Yes, ma’am. Gonna make you feel better. ‘M so sorry.”
He dragged you to the edge of the couch by your ankles and put you back in the same position the two of you were in earlier, except you were much comfier on these cushions. He sucked your clit softly, moaning around it like he was the one being devoured. Taking his middle finger, he probed at your sopping hole, collecting its wetness and spreading it on his index like a natural lube. You pushed into his face harder, practically begging for it.
Catching the silent demand, he pushed his middle finger in, testing how much you could take at the moment. Your hole swallowed him like a pill. The ridges inside your sex were like art to him. Greedily, he shoved his index finger in almost immediately after. He started with a curious pace, slow and searching. His fingers expertly hit your g-spot each time, and the way his fingers curled made you feel like desire personified.
“M-Mikey, oh god! It’s– I can’t think..” you babbled honestly. The double stimulation paired with your sexual frustration was making your brain feel limp.
He moaned against you in response, the vibration sending shivers through your abdomen.
“Yes yes yes yes yeeeees, fuck!” you chanted.
You hated that he made you this easy. Usually your resolve was always up, but you’d never felt this needy in your life. You wanted him to have some sort of punishment for taking without permission. The best way to do that was to tease him.
“F-feels so good daddy, your mouth’s fuckin’ me so good.” ‘Daddy’, the name you used to drive him absolutely insane.
Just as you expected, his free hand came up and gripped one of your thighs for support as he furrowed his brows in concentration; surely on not cumming his pants. He drew in ragged breaths in between whimpers.
“Go faster, daddy. ‘M s-so close,” you whined, rocking your pussy against his tongue as he made it flat for you. Michael was sat so rigid beneath you, you were sure he was gonna cut off the circulation to his dick. He drilled his fingers into you at an unforgiving pace, and you swore you were being called to heaven right there.
He closed his mouth back around your cunt and slid his tongue up and down your folds, collecting more arousal, and pooling it around your clit. He sucked with just enough pressure to make you see stars, and you gripped onto his hair brutally.
“M-Mikey! ‘M gonna– Fuck! Cummi–” you crushed his face between your thighs and screamed bloody mary, holding onto his thick locks for grounding. Your orgasm ripped through you like an earthquake, and your body convulsed violently, all that pent up pressure released on your boyfriend’s face and fingers. He curled them inside you as much as he could while your walls clenched and sucked them in.
He kept licking you, too.
After you came down, you let your legs fall limp against him and detangled your fingers from his hair, trying to use your hands to push yourself back. But he wouldn’t stop going.
“Baby, I came. C-come on, ’m sensitive,” you rasped out, your voice hoarse from basically screaming.
Michael ignored you and kept going, seemingly driven by pure lust.
You grabbed ahold of his hair again and attempted to yank him back, but he stiffened his neck defiantly and gripped your thigh harder, keeping you in place. You whimpered loudly. He looked up at you, removed his fingers from inside you, and shoved them into your open mouth.
The angle was awkward, but god was this side of him sexy.
You moaned around his fingers and sucked at them greedily, trying your hardest not to bite down on them because of how sensitive you felt. Tears streamed down your eyes and you were sniffling loudly. The scene was disgusting.
Your hips stuttered against his tongue as he stuffed his thick tongue into your still leaking hole and back to flick at your clit, over and over.
You were crying his name out around his fingers, trying to warn him that you were going to cum again.
He grazed his teeth against your clit just once, very lightly, and you felt the air get knocked completely from your lungs, as your second orgasm tore through your sweaty body. You were almost choking on his fingers, your robe was drooping lazily off your shoulders, and your ears were ringing; your was body completely spent.
Michael removed his fingers from between your lips, but he kept going at your pussy.
“Michael please. C-can’t take it no more. You did good, daddy. You did really good. You made me feel better, baby. Ngh– f-fuck!” you cried out.
He met your eyes, looking at the way thick tears pooled inside of them, and then his gaze fell to your lips, concentrating on how the bottom one trembled as you cried. You looked like a masterpiece. Just one more. He just wanted one more out of you. Giving you a half-apologetic look, he tore his eyes from your dejected gaze, putting his focus on getting you to cum just one more time.
His jaw began to cramp up, and his tongue was nearly going stuck, but he had a point to prove to nobody but himself. Your lower body vibrated erratically, and the friction against his lips made him whine. This is exactly what he dreamed of. Him below you, offering his mouth to you, and you above him, crying out his name like a prayer.
“Mmmnh,” he moaned against your lips. His dick strained painfully in his briefs. He was oozing so much precum that it seemed like he finished in his pants.
“Close. G’na cum,” you mumbled through sobs of overstimulation. Your vision was too blurry to focus on the look of adoration he gave you.
Steeling himself for your release, he pulled you flush against his face, burying his nose into your pelvis, and he circled his sore tongue against your clit fast and hard.
“Michael! I’m–”
Your vision completely blacked out as your core weeped and your eyes silently cried. It felt like every hole in your body was leaking– your eyes with tears, your mouth with drool, your pussy with sticky cum.
Michael, on the other hand, rode you through the whole thing, rubbing his hands down the length of your sweaty thighs and humming softly against your core. He cleaned up every last drop of cum that poured from you. When you slumped back against the cushions, he finally removed his mouth from your sensitive sex with a whine.
His jaw hurt. He tried to apologize for going overboard, but he couldn’t even move his mouth from the pain. Every tiny movement made his jaw lock up even more.
“C’mere,” you mumbled out to him, craving his embrace.
Michael obliged immediately, ignoring the way his dick throbbed between his legs. He laid his head on your half-exposed breasts, listening to your heartbeat steady itself underneath your chest. He strained his neck to give you a tender kiss on your lips, wincing as he tried opening his mouth to deepen it.
“You okay?” you asked him as you jerked away.
“Mhm,” he replied quickly, attempting to connect your mouths again. You sat up on one of your forearms and used your free hand to guide his face up to you.
“Use your words, baby. Need to know you’re feeling okay. I was a lil’ rough with your hair.” You run your fingers through his coily tresses, massaging the his scalp where you tugged the hardest.
“Think I have lockjaw,” he mumbled without disconnecting his lips, making it come out more like ‘thnkhavlockjw’.
“What?” you questioned him, confused as to why he seemed so reluctant to speak. He rubbed his jawline.
“I– mm. Went too hard. My jaw’s tight.” He bit his lip, seeming…proud of himself for that fact.
“You gave yourself lockjaw just to give me three orgasms? You fuckin’ idiot. You’re a singer!” You pushed his face away playfully and then grabbed onto his jaw again, massaging the sides. He opened his mouth wider, stretching it as the muscles loosened up.
“Mhm, n’ it was worth it! I’d go again if you told me to,” he declared proudly, giving you a suggestive look.
“Hell nah, we still have the whole meal I made for us. I’m hungry. You don’t needa be movin’ that mouth for anything except that food,” you quipped at him.
“I’m sorry, mama. You taste real good, though…” he trailed off, leaning in to catch you in another kiss.
“Nope. We are not doin’ this again. Get the fuck up before I buy myself a chastity belt,” you responded with a chuckle, pushing him away from you and stretching your achy limbs. You stood up, tightened your robe, and extended your hand to drag him with you to the kitchen. “Get up.”
“Okay. I love you so much,” he replied like a lovesick puppy as he let you guide him like one. You giggled at his neediness, eyeing his erection.
“Mhm, I’m sure you do. I’m not lettin’ you touch me again until we eat, by the way. And you’re platin’ everything,” you instructed as you reheated the food, handing him porcelain dishes. You grabbed the smoothies out of the freezer and poured them into glasses, handing him one to try. He took a sip and you caught him in a soft kiss when he pulled his cup away.
tgs ◞ smut, possessiveness, after care, fem reader, oral (m and f) , masturbation, kinks, size, toys, teasing, praise, jealousy, michael jackson, bondage, sensory deprivation, creampie ⸝⸝
A – Aftercare (what they’re like after sex): He is absolute heaven the moment the storm passes. The second he releases his weight, Michael immediately pulls you into his chest, wrapping his long, lean limbs around you to ensure you feel entirely anchored, safe, and treasured. If you are trembling from the intensity or feeling overstimulated, he’ll wrap you securely in the duvet like a cocoon, pressing soft kisses along your temple and whispering sweet, quiet praises into your hair. His voice returns to that gentle, comforting melody, reassuring you of how much he loves you.
He is incredibly attentive to your physical comfort as well. He’s the type of lover who will willingly leave the warmth of the bed for a moment just to bring you a warm, damp cloth to tenderly clean you up, followed by a fresh glass of water. He takes care of you with a quiet, reverent focus, ensuring you are completely comfortable before settling right back down next to you. He will pull you close, resting your head on his chest and stroking your back rhythmically until your breathing matches his.
B – Body Part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s): His hands and his lips are his most lethal weapons. His hands are famously large, warm, and incredibly expressive, featuring long, elegant fingers that can span your entire waist or completely pin your wrists above your head. He loves using that massive span to trace the entire length of your spine, applying just enough pressure to make you shiver, or firmly cupping your hips to guide your movements to his liking. There is an undeniable power in his grip, yet he manages to hold you with an innate gentleness.
His lips, by contrast, are incredibly soft but remarkably demanding when he’s deeply lost in the moment. He loves the stark contrast of his rougher, calloused fingertips dragging against your softest skin, marking his territory through touch alone without ever needing to leave a bruise. The way he uses his hands to frame your face during a kiss makes the entire experience feel deeply artistic, as if he is memorizing every single contour of your body with his touch.
C – Cum (anything to do with cum): Most of the time, he prefers to come inside you, craving that ultimate, uninterrupted sense of closeness and biological connection. For Michael, there is something incredibly primal and binding about filling you completely. He loves the feeling of your internal muscles pulsing around him as he releases, holding you entirely still against the mattress until the very last drop is spent.
If coming inside isn’t an option, he becomes very neat and deliberate about where he places his release, choosing to come on your stomach, breasts, or thighs while watching your face react to the heat of it. He takes immense pleasure in the visual aspect of seeing his mark on your skin, his dark eyes clouding over with pure satisfaction.
D – Dirty Talk (a dirty secret of theirs): He isn’t crude or vulgar, but he is surprisingly vocal and incredibly descriptive once the bedroom door is locked. His dirty talk doesn't rely on cheap insults; instead, it is breathless, dark, and deeply sensual. He loves to narrate exactly how your body feels to him, murmuring hushed, desperate phrases like, "You feel so beautiful around me, sweetheart," or "Look at me, let me see what I'm doing to you." Hearing his usually polite, soft-spoken voice drop an octave into a commanding whisper is enough to completely melt your resolve.
He also highly responds to your voice. If you try to stay quiet, he will deliberately press into you harder or tease you until he forces a gasp or a moan out of you, praise immediately tumbling from his lips when you comply. He will whisper sweet corruptions into your ear, telling you exactly how much you turn him on and how he's been thinking about this specific moment all day long. The combination of his deep, gravelly groans and his breathless praise creates an intoxicating atmosphere that leaves you utterly helpless.
E – Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?): He is highly experienced and possesses a deep understanding of standard anatomy and pleasure, but he is entirely devoid of any cheap arrogance or clinical detachment. Michael treats your body like a brand-new, beautiful musical composition, adapting his rhythm perfectly to what you specifically like. He doesn't just stick to a routine; he explores you with a genuine curiosity, treating every single intimate encounter as if it were the very first time he’s ever laid eyes on you.
He has a natural, intuitive rhythm and reads body language like an absolute professional. He knows exactly when to soften his touch into a feather-light caress and when to push a little harder based entirely on the pitch of your breathing, the arch of your back, or the way your fingers tighten in his sheets. You never have to explicitly tell him what feels good; he pays such close attention to the micro-reactions of your muscles that he can anticipate your needs before you even realize them yourself.
F – Favorite Position: Missionary with a dominant, flexible twist. Michael is a deeply romantic and visual person, so he absolutely loves looking directly into your eyes and watching every single micro-expression of your pleasure. He likes being on top because it allows him to completely loom over you, blocking out the rest of the world and making you the sole focus of his universe. To make it deeper, he’ll often drape your legs over his broad shoulders or prop your hips up on a stack of plush pillows.
This specific angle allows him to sink as deep as physically possible, filling you up completely while keeping his hands entirely free. He will use his freedom to pin your wrists to the mattress, stroke your face, or play with your clitoris while he pumps inside you. He loves the intense, raw friction this position provides, and he will look down at you with a mixture of fierce possessiveness and absolute adoration as he drives you both over the edge.
G – Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? Are they humorous? etc.): Yes, he can absolutely be goofy, but only in the most endearing and comforting way possible. Intimacy can sometimes bring awkward moments—a funny noise might happen, the bed might squeak in a weird rhythm, or one of you might awkwardly trip over a discarded piece of clothing in the dark. Instead of letting tension freeze the room, Michael will burst into that high-pitched, infectious giggle of his, his entire face lighting up with genuine amusement.
It never ruins the sexual tension or dampens the mood; instead, it completely breaks any lingering performance anxiety or nervousness you might have been holding onto. It makes the intimacy feel incredibly warm, safe, and deeply real, reminding you that beneath the larger-than-life superstar is just a man who loves you.
H – Hair & Grooming (how well groomed are they?): When it comes to personal grooming, Michael is meticulously, flawlessly clean. He is incredibly fastidious about his hygiene; his skin is always exfoliated and moisturized, smelling deeply of rich vanilla, expensive colognes, or mild soap. Down below, he keeps himself perfectly maintained—either entirely bare or trimmed incredibly neat and short—ensuring that there is never any discomfort, roughness, or stray hairs when you go down on him or when he presses closely against your bare skin.
When it comes to your hair, he has a massive fixation on it. He loves pulling it during sex, though he is always incredibly mindful of your comfort levels. He’ll wrap a fist near the roots at the nape of your neck just firmly enough to tilt your head back, exposing your throat for his teeth and lips while he works inside you. He loves the sheer control it gives him.
I – Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect): For Michael, sex isn't just a physical release or a basic biological urge; it is an intense emotional convergence. He is incapable of separating physical lust from deep, profound emotional devotion. If he is making love to you, it means he is baring his entire soul to you, trusting you with the rawest, most vulnerable parts of himself that the public never gets to see. He needs to feel your souls touching just as much as your bodies.
Because of this, his lovemaking is filled with plenty of intense, unblinking eye contact, interlocking fingers until your knuckles turn white, and sweet, lingering kisses between heavy, rhythmic thrusts. He will press his forehead against yours, breathing in the same air as you, treating the entire encounter like a sacred ritual. He wants to feel entirely consumed by you, completely erasing the boundaries of where his body ends and yours begins.
J – Jealousy (do they get jealous?): He has a deeply hidden, fiercely possessive streak that he rigorously suppresses while in public, but he lets it entirely loose once you are safely behind closed doors. Because he has to share so much of his life with millions of fans, he is fiercely protective of what is actually his. If he felt threatened, slighted, or jealous earlier in the day due to an executive or another man looking at you for just a second too long, that residual energy will entirely dictate how he handles you in bed.
He won't be cruel, but he will be much more dominant, demanding, and urgent. He will take his time pacing the encounter, pinning you down firmly and marking your skin with dark love bites to quietly remind you—and remind himself—exactly who you belong to. He will look down at you with a heavy, intense gaze, demanding that you say his name over and over again until any lingering doubt or jealousy in his mind is entirely washed away by your submission.
K – Kink (one or more of their kinks): Sensory deprivation and mild bondage appeal immensely to his psychological side. Michael is a deeply visual and highly analytical person who is constantly perceived by others, so turning the tables in the bedroom is a massive turn-on for him. Tying your wrists to the headboard with a soft, expensive silk tie or placing a velvet blindfold over your eyes allows him to completely control the environment, transforming him into the sole author of your experience.
He loves how sensory deprivation heightens your other senses, leaving you entirely dependent on the sound of his voice, the heat of his breath, and the sudden, unpredictable touch of his hands. He will tease your bare skin with a feather or his lips, listening closely to your ragged gasps as you try to guess where he will touch you next. Taking complete control of your pleasure in this manner makes him feel incredibly powerful and deeply connected to your reactions.
L – Location (favorite places to do the do): His private bedroom suite is his absolute sanctuary, representing the only place on earth where he can completely let his guard down without the threat of cameras or intrusion. The room is tailored for romance—soft lighting, heavy security doors, and a massive, comfortable bed. However, he isn’t against utilizing the absolute, sprawling luxury of a penthouse hotel suite while traveling on tour, finding a strange thrill in turning a temporary space into your private paradise.
If the adrenaline from a performance is running exceptionally high and the mood strikes, he’s even been known to look for excitement closer to his work. He will lock the heavy doors of a secure, dark recording studio or a private backstage dressing room, pinning you right against the mixing console or a velvet couch. The contrast of the high-tech, professional environment mixed with the raw, desperate intimacy of your bodies creates a memory that lingers long after you leave.
M – Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going): His primary motivation is your utter, complete undoing. Nothing turns his brain on faster or drives him wilder than realizing he has total control over your physical sensations. Hearing you whine his name in a desperate pitch, watching your chest heave, or seeing your back arch completely off the mattress when he hits the perfect spot is the ultimate ego boost for him. He derives his own physical pleasure entirely from the depth of yours.
Because of this, he is a massive teaser. He will purposefully slow down his rhythm, shallowing his thrusts or stopping his fingers right at the ragged edge of your orgasm, just to watch you squirm and hear you beg him to continue. He loves making you crave him, holding your climax hostage until you are crying out for relief. The moment he finally relents and gives you what you want, the look of pure triumph on his face is absolutely breathtaking.
N – No-go (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs): Anything genuinely painful, degrading, or unhygienic is a strict boundary for him. Michael views the human body—especially yours—as something inherently beautiful, elegant, and worthy of respect. Because of this, emotional cruelty, harsh name-calling, or any kinks that make you feel genuinely small, humiliated, or disgusted in a negative way are completely off the table. He wants to elevate you, not degrade you.
Similarly, anything involving blood, extreme pain, or heavy impact is something he will actively avoid. He doesn't want to see you in genuine distress; he wants to see you in a state of pure, unadulterated ecstasy. If he accidentally hurts you or pushes a boundary too far, he will instantly stop what he is doing, drop all sexual pretense, and comfort you until you feel safe again. For him, intensity must always be balanced with profound gentleness.
O – Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.): He is an absolute perfectionist when it comes to giving oral pleasure. Michael takes his sweet time down there, using his large, warm hands to firmly spread your thighs apart and stretch you out so he can admire you completely before leaning down. He genuinely loves the taste and scent of you, viewing this act as the ultimate form of submission and worship to your body. He will rest his heavy chin against your inner thighs, looking up at you from between your legs with a dark, focused gaze.
He is incredibly skilled with his tongue, using a combination of broad, warm strokes and sharp, precise pressure against your clitoris. He loves to slip a finger or two inside you simultaneously, mimicking the motion of sex to stretch you out and build the internal friction. He will deliberately drive you to the point of overstimulation and breathless tears, refusing to let you pull away until you have completely shattered against his mouth, swallowing every drop of your release.
P – Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.): The pace of his lovemaking is highly dynamic, theatrical, and deeply intentional. It almost always starts incredibly slow, agonizingly sweet, and full of heavy petting, deep sighs, and soft, lingering kisses that taste like a promise. He likes to build the tension gradually, taking hours just to undress you and appreciate every inch of skin, making you wait until the anticipation is practically vibrating in the air between you.
However, once he finally loses his composure and the internal friction builds, his gentle demeanor completely vanishes. The pace becomes fast, rhythmic, and intensely demanding. He moves with a dancer’s flawless precision and core strength, hitting every single angle with an exhausting, beautiful force that leaves you completely breathless. He will drive the pace faster and harder until the bedroom is filled with the frantic sound of skin against skin, matching the wild beating of your heart.
Q – Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.): While they are rare due to his preference for long, drawn-out sessions, quickies are absolutely thrilling when they do happen. Because of his chaotic schedule, massive entourages, and the constant, suffocating presence of security, your moments of true privacy can sometimes be cut short. If you two find yourselves with a rare five minutes of guaranteed privacy backstage or in an empty hallway, all his gentlemanly patience completely vanishes.
He will pull you into the nearest hidden space, lifting you up effortlessly and pinning you against the nearest solid wall. There is no time for romance; he will hike up your skirt, pull your underwear to the side, and take you with a quiet, desperate urgency that is completely intoxicating. His breath will hitch against your ear as he pumps into you hard and fast, leaving you both disheveled, flushed, and with knees shaking so badly you can barely walk back out into the crowd.
R – Risk (are they game to experiment? Do they take risks? etc.): His risk level is carefully calibrated between low and medium. Because of his extreme, unprecedented level of fame and the constant threat of paparazzi or betrayal, he is incredibly paranoid about physical security. He will never risk doing anything sloppy that could compromise your privacy, lead to a public scandal, or make you feel exposed to the outside world. He protects your shared secrets like a fortress.
However, that doesn't mean he doesn't enjoy a thrill when he knows he can get away with it. He will risk a scandalous, lingering touch beneath the heavy tablecloth at a formal, private dinner party, watching you try to keep a straight face while his fingers move high up your thigh. He also loves sliding his hand beneath your skirt in the backseat of his private limousine, smiling innocently at the driver through the tinted glass divider while his thumb strokes your wetness.
S – Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?): His stamina is completely unmatched and genuinely intimidating. You have to remember that this is a man who sings and dances at a high-intensity athletic level for hours on end under heavy, burning stage lights; his cardio, lung capacity, and leg strength are entirely out of this world. He does not tire easily, and he can maintain a intense, punishing rhythm in bed for a remarkably long time without ever breaking his stride.
He is fully capable of going for multiple rounds across a single night. Just when you think he’s finally exhausted, dripping with sweat, and ready to fall asleep, he’ll catch his breath for a few minutes while holding you close. Then suddenly, he’ll flip you onto your stomach, and start all over again with the exact same level of energy and passion as the first round, leaving you completely spent by sunrise.
T – Toy (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?): He is highly intrigued by high-quality, sleek, and quiet adult toys. Michael is a man who appreciates mechanics, technology, and design, so introducing a small, powerful bullet vibrator or a luxury wand into the bedroom is a favorite pastime of his. He loves the contrast of the mechanical vibration against the natural heat of your skin, using the toy as an extension of his own hands to unlock new levels of pleasure for you.
His favorite method is holding a small vibe directly against your clitoris while he pumps inside you from behind. The double stimulation is incredibly intense, and he will lean his chest heavily against your back, watching your face completely crumble in the mirror as your internal muscles clench tightly around him. Hearing your voice break into high-pitched whines under the sheer power of the sensation drives him absolutely insane, pushing him to release right alongside you.
U – Unfair (how much they like to tease): The most unfair thing about Michael is how quickly he can transition from a shy, giggling, softly spoken gentleman into an absolute, unyielding predator the second the bedroom door clicks locked. In the outside world, he is polite, deferred, and incredibly gentle, often hiding his face or speaking in a quiet whisper. But the moment he has you in private, that public persona completely falls away to reveal a fiercely confident, dominant man.
The sheer shift in his energy is dizzying. The sudden darkening of his eyes, the deep drop in the pitch of his voice, and the firm, unyielding grip of his large hands on your waist can make your head spin. It is entirely unfair to your sanity how he can make you feel completely protected one minute, and then entirely consumed and overwhelmed by his raw sexuality the very next, leaving you utterly hooked on his duality.
V – Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.): Michael is a remarkably vocal and expressive lover. He does not believe in hiding his pleasure, so his sessions are filled with a symphony of high-pitched whines, heavy, desperate breathing, and deep, guttural groans that rumble from the chest. He moves with a lot of vocal emotion, letting out breathy gasps every time he sinks into you deeply, making it incredibly obvious just how good you feel to him.
If you are staying in a hotel suite where security guards are stationed right outside the main door, he will try his best to stay quiet, which only makes the situation hotter. He will bite down on his own bottom lip, or bury his face deeply into the crook of your neck to muffle his gravelly, frantic groans. Feeling the physical vibration of his stifled gasps against your skin while he tries to hold back his volume adds a layer of desperate intensity that makes the whole encounter feel entirely forbidden.
W – Wild Card (a random headcanon for the character): He has a massive, ongoing fixation on mirrors. Michael has spent his entire life performing in front of mirrors to perfect his choreography, so he is incredibly comfortable with the visual geometry of movement. In the bedroom, he loves capitalizing on this by placing you directly in front of a full-length mirror—either standing up or on your hands and knees—so you are forced to watch the entire act unfold.
He will lean his heavy upper body over your back, resting his chin on your bare shoulder so he can look at your reflection while he takes you from behind. He will use his large hands to pull your hair back or cup your breasts, whispering explicitly into your ear to look at what he’s doing to you. Forcing you to watch how perfectly your bodies fit together in the glass creates a highly psychological, intense turn-on that leaves you completely exposed to his gaze.
X – X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes): To put it plainly, he is incredibly well-endowed—blessed with both a length and a heavy girth that can be highly intimidating at first glance. Because he is fully aware of his size, he is hyper-conscious of your anatomy and physical comfort, never wanting to cause you actual pain. He approaches penetration with a careful, measured patience, ensuring your body is entirely ready before he attempts to slide inside.
He will be patient, taking his time to stretch you out slowly with his long fingers and using oral sex to make sure you are completely relaxed and wet. When he finally enters you, he will angle his hips with expert precision, moving slowly at first so your body can adjust to his size. He knows exactly how to fill you up to the absolute brim, creating a deep, stretching fullness that feels incredibly intense without ever crossing the line into discomfort.
Y – Yearning (how high is their sex drive?): When he is traveling the globe or isolated on a massive world tour, his yearning for you becomes a physical ache. Michael is surrounded by thousands of screaming fans daily, yet he suffers from an intense loneliness that only your presence can cure. To cope with the distance, he will initiate late-night, long-distance phone calls from his lonely hotel rooms, his voice dropping into a deep, raspy whisper stripped entirely of his public facade.
He will keep you on the line for hours, explicitly describing, detail by detail, exactly what he plans to do to your body the very second he returns home to you. He will guide you through your own pleasure over the phone, demanding to hear you sigh and touch yourself while he listens on the other end, his own breathing heavy in the receiver. By the time he finally gets back to you, the pent-up anticipation ensures that your reunion will be incredibly wild, desperate, and hours long.
Z – ZZZ (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards): After a long, passionate session and a thorough, loving round of aftercare, Michael falls asleep incredibly fast, completely drained of his usual racing thoughts and insomnia. The physical and emotional release of making love to you is the only thing that truly quiets his brilliant, chaotic mind. He cannot sleep unless he is touching you, so he will pull your body entirely onto his chest or spoon you tightly from behind.
He will wrap his large hands around your waist, locking you against his side so securely that you couldn't escape his grip even if you tried. As the room grows quiet, you can feel the radiating warmth of his skin and the steady, heavy thump of his heartbeat slowing down against your back. He drifts off into a deep, peaceful slumber, completely content and safe in the knowledge that the person he loves most is held securely in his arms.
⊱ ty for all the requests! I’m trying to get as many as I can done so plz be patient with me ⸝⸝
content ! 18+, unprotected p in v, praise, sweet sex, pet names (baby, honey)
"fuck!" you cry, throwing your head back and letting your jaw go slack. michael is pistoning his hips against yours relentlessly, the only sounds in the room being the lewd skin slapping and the heavy panting and moans emitting from both of you.
"i know, honey" he coos, trying his best to be sweet verbally despite how rough he's being with you physically. "m'sorry babygirl" he tries.
the stretch was borderline excruciating. he was just too big. the funny part is he doesn't even know he's that big! or atleast he didn't know it until you started screaming complaining about it.
"s'too big, michael!" you mewl, squirming under him, but you can't help but arch into him. it's almost instinctive.
"just breathe, baby... breathe" maybe he should take his own advice, because he's barely able to take in a full breath with just how tight your gummy walls are squeezing and fluttering around him.
"i- can't-" the pleasure becomes overwhelming when michael reaches in between the both of you to aimlessly rub at your clit, anything to get you to stop whining. he immediately notices your eyes roll back and your breath hitch. "s'that better honey?" he asks, "that feel a little better?" you nod frantically, barely able to compute his sweet words as you feel yourself growing closer and closer to coming undone. the sniveling and the cries coming from you morph into delighted moans as the stretch becomes euphoric, his praises egging you on impossibly.
"there she is" he purrs, a small, knowing smirk playing on his face.
"there's my girl" he litters your face with small kisses in an effort to calm you down as he continues his thrusts, growing closer to the edge himself.
"g-gosh- baby," he groans, his big fingers still working at your clit.
"feels s'good michael!" you moan, right at the edge. "yeah?" he moans right back at you. "that feels good, huh?" he speeds up his thrusts, making you squeal. "feel me so deep, yeah?" he looks down and sees himself poking through your lower belly. he reaches down and presses on the bulge, making you wince at the tightness. the bulge is disappearing and reappearing with every thrust. "shi-shoot, honey" he mutters.
you feel the white hot band in your tummy snap, pleasure shooting through your body as you cry out his name. that alone is enough to push him over the edge as well. he cums deep inside you, fucking into you a few last times. you both lay there, panting. he's heavy on top of you, laying sweaty on top of you (not that you mind). and of course, michael is quick to comfort you.
he pushes some of the hair out of your face, off of your damp, flushed skin. "you did so good, baby... m'sorry i was so rough" he speaks gently, kissing your forehead.
context: michael tries weed for the first time and somehow ends up with his face in between your legs?
The heavy studio door shut out the rest of Westlake Studios, sealing the two of you into an isolated, amber-lit sanctuary of sound. The massive mixing console glowed like the dashboard of a spaceship, its hundred tiny green and red lights casting a warm, technical haze over the room. Through the heavy glass of the isolation booth, everything was dark, but inside the control room, the air was thick, warm, and vibrating with the heavy, unreleased bassline of a rough cut of "Human Nature." The synths swirled through the studio monitors, filling every corner of the room with a lush, melancholic warmth.
Michael was supposed to be evaluating the vocal tracks, but his legendary work ethic had completely dissolved. He was doing a terrible job of pretending to study the soundboard. Every time you leaned back against the plush leather couch, exhaling a thick, slow cloud of sweet, pungent weed smoke, his gaze slipped away from the level meters. First, his eyes would fixate on the lazy, seductive parting of your lips; then, they’d trace the slow path of the smoke as it drifted down over the swell of your chest, before he’d hastily snap his head back to a random dial, his cheeks flushing a faint, dusty rose. He’d had a quiet, burning crush on you for months, hiding it behind soft smiles and polite giggles, but the late hour and the heavy studio air were making his usual shy defense mechanisms disintegrate.
He finally gave up the facade, spinning around in his plush rolling chair. He rested his chin on the backs of his hands, staring intently at the glowing cherry of the joint between your fingers.
"What does it actually feel like?" he asked. His voice was a soft, breathy register, a genuine curiosity practically radiating off his frame. "You’ve been sitting there looking like you’re floating in another world for the past hour."
You took another lazy, deliberate drag, letting the smoke curl past your teeth as you smirked at him. " ‘M telling you, Mike, it’s great. It just... unravels your brain. Relaxes every single muscle. It makes the music sound way deeper, like you can feel the spaces between the notes. It makes everything feel better— look better. Even taste better."
Michael’s large, dark eyes widened, a breathless, high-pitched little giggle escaping him. He sat up straighter, totally captivated. "What? No way. Taste better? Like... like candy? Like real sweet stuff?"
"Like everything," you laughed, the heavy relaxation of the high making your voice drop an octave as you leaned your head back against the leather. "Food, drinks... people. Everything."
He slid off his chair in one fluid, cat-like motion, practically gliding across the carpet until he was hovering right over you. His curls bounced softly around his jawline, catching the red glare of the studio lights. "Lemme try. Just a little bit. Just a tiny puff."
"Absolutely fucking not," you said, your thumb instinctively capping the joint as you pulled your hand away. "Michael, you’re a vocalist. Your lungs are quite literally worth more than my entire life. If Quincy walks through that door and sees you smoking a joint, he will actually murder me, bury me under the studio floorboards, and no one will ever find the body."
"He’s not gonna walk in, he’s totally asleep in the back lounge," Michael whined. The transformation was instant; his lower lip jutted out into a full, exaggerated, bratty pout that he knew damn well no one could resist. He reached down, his slender, brown fingers wrapping around your wrist. His grip was warm and surprisingly firm, a sudden flash of the commanding performer breaking through his gentle demeanor as he tried to tug your hand back toward his face. "Come on, y/n. Just one little puff. Don't be stingy."
"No, Mike, seriously—"
"Please?" He dropped straight onto his knees by the edge of the couch, looking up at you with those huge, pleading, doe-like eyes. Yet, there was a stubborn, demanding edge to the tilt of his chin. He was Michael Jackson; he was completely used to getting exactly what he wanted. "I want to feel what you’re feeling. Let me try it."
You let out a defeated sigh, completely weaponless against the sheer force of his pout. "Fine. One. You have to actually inhale it into your lungs, Michael, not just hold it in your mouth like a chipmunk."
He snatched the joint from your fingers with a victorious, white-toothed grin. He brought it to his lips with an air of immense confidence, took a massive, greedy gulp of the thick smoke—and immediately turned into a coughing, hacking disaster.
"Oh my god," he choked out, his face turning a deep, burning crimson as he dropped the joint onto the glass coffee table and began waving his hands frantically in front of his face. He bent double, his forehead nearly touching his knees as his chest heaved. “Ew! it tastes like burnt grass! Why on earth do you like this?!” He was coughing so hard that bright tears pricked the corners of his eyes, hacking dramatically, his voice cracking as if he had just swallowed pure poison.
"I told you!" you shouted over his coughing, laughing so hard your stomach ached as you reached for the joint before it could burn anything. "Give it here, you’re gonna drop ashes on the rug and burn the place down."
"No!" Michael snapped. With a sudden burst of stubborn energy, he snatched his hand back, pulling the joint completely out of your reach and ignoring your warning entirely. His voice was deeply raspy and cracked from the smoke, but his competitive streak was flashing. "I didn't do it right. I’m not a quitter. Lemme do it again."
Before you could physically stop him, he brought it back to his lips and took another drag. This time, he clamped his mouth shut, his chest expanding as he forced himself to swallow the smoke down deep. He held it for a split second, his eyes watering, coughed a little less violently into his fist, and then blew out a thick, gray plume, looking immensely proud of his own stubbornness.
Within five minutes, the freight train hit him.
Michael completely melted. The legendary dancer's posture vanished as his spine seemed to turn to absolute jelly. He slid backward off his knees, slumping onto the plush studio floor with his back propped up against the base of the couch, his long legs splayed out in his bright red varsity jacket. His eyes were half-lidded, glazed over with a heavy, glassy sheen, and fixed entirely on the acoustic tiling of the ceiling.
"God..." he whispered. The register of his voice had dropped into an incredibly deep, slow, resonant baritone that sent a sudden shiver straight down your spine. "Oh wow. My chest... my chest feels so warm. Like a blanket. Y/n..."
"You good?" you asked, leaning over the edge of the cushions to peer down at him.
"The music," he breathed, his head rolling heavily to the side against the leather to look up at you. The weed had completely dissolved his filter. His gaze dropped straight to your chest, staring unashamedly, his eyes tracking the heavy outline of your nipples through the thin fabric of your shirt before slowly migrating back up to your face. "Do you hear that synth line? No, listen... really listen... it’s like... a cloud. It’s moving in slow motion through my ears. Did I write that? God, I’m a genius. It’s so beautiful I want to cry."
You choked back a loud laugh, reaching down to tug at the collar of his red jacket. "Yeah, Mike, you’re a certified genius. Come here, get off the dirty floor."
"No, ‘m comfortable," he whined, instantly turning bratty and dead-weight the second you tried to shift him. Instead of getting up, he used his hands to scramble up the side of the couch, dragging his upper body completely across your lap. He was suddenly incredibly, uninhibitedly touchy. He spread his arms out, burying his face for a second against your stomach before his long fingers started tracing a slow, deliberate path up your thigh. His palm dragged heavily over the denim of your jeans, pressing right between your legs with an unbothered weight that made your breath catch in your throat. "You’re really warm. Everything feels so heavy and soft."
"Michael," you warned, your heart hammering like a trapped bird against your ribs as his palm shifted, rubbing firm and slow against your crotch. "You’re so high."
"‘M not," he pouted, tilting his head back in your lap to look up at you. His eyes were incredibly dark, the pupils dilated and heavy with a sudden, intense focus. He stared directly at your lips, his thumb rhythmically rubbing back and forth over the tight seam of your pants, right where the friction was already making you slick and wet. He went completely quiet for a long moment, listening to the vocal track of Human Nature fade out on a high, echoing note and loop right back to the heavy, throbbing intro.
"It really does sound better," he murmured, his thumb pressing harder into your heat, his voice dropping into a husky, completely unbothered register that made your skin tingle with goosebumps. His eyes locked onto yours, completely devoid of his usual stage shyness, full of a raw, primal confidence. "And you said... you said it makes everything taste better."
"Yeah?" you whispered, your hands tangling into the fabric of his jacket, suddenly unable to draw a full breath.
"I wanna taste you."
Before the words could even fully register in your brain, Michael didn't lean up for a kiss like you expected. His high, hyper-fixated brain went completely, utterly literal. He slid off your lap, tumbling back onto his knees on the carpet, and immediately reached for the waistband of your pants.
"Wait—Michael, what the fuck?!" you gasped, your hands flying to his broad shoulders to push him back.
"Shh, hold still, let me," he whined, entirely impatient, driven by a sudden, intense curiosity. He was fumbling clumsily with the metal button of your jeans, his fingers thick and heavy from the high. He let out a frustrated, bratty little huff when the denim wouldn't unclip immediately. "Let me do it. Don't move, y/n."
"Mike, you've never—you don't know what—"
"I want to," he insisted, his voice dropping all its softness as he finally popped the button and yanked your zipper down. He pulled your pants and underwear down past your hips in one rough, eager motion, dragging them down to your knees. He grabbed your thighs, his large hands sinking into your flesh as he shoved your legs wide apart, forcing his broad shoulders right between your knees.
He didn't even pause to look. Driven by pure, unadulterated instinct and the sensory overload of the weed, he dived right in, pressing his open, hot mouth directly against your bare, aching center.
The shock of it made you scream into the empty room. He was way too excited; his tongue was moving frantically, darting back and forth far too fast and incredibly sloppy. He was lapping blindly at you, his nose burying hard into your damp curls, completely bypassing your clit in his frantic rush to taste everything at once. It was a chaotic storm of intense, heavy friction, wet tongues, and hot, heavy breaths blasting against your sensitive skin. Your hips jerked wildly, your hands gripping the leather of the couch as you tried to adjust to the clumsy, overwhelming sensation.
"Michael, wait, wait! Stop for a second!" you cried out, your fingers diving deep into his thick, damp, product-heavy curls, gently but firmly hauling his head back.
He let out a loud, miserable groan, a whiny sound vibrating deep in his chest as he was forced to pull away. He looked up at you from between your thighs with a deeply pouty, unsatisfied expression, his lips completely wet, glistening under the red studio lights with your own escaping juices. "What? Is it bad? ‘M trying really hard."
"No, baby, it’s not bad, you’re just... you’re going a mile a minute," you breathed, panting as you tried to steady your racing pulse. You looked down at him—his cheeks were darkly flushed, his eyes totally dazed, but his gaze was completely fixed on the glistening, wet folds of your skin. "You gotta slow down, Mike. Softly. You have to just follow my hands, okay?"
He whined a little, his brow furrowing, but the exact moment you took control and gave him explicit direction, something in his brain shifted. His perfectionist, deeply musical nature seemed to snap into alignment, overriding the chaotic haze of the smoke.
You gently guided his head back down, your fingers tightly weaving through his black curls to dictate the pace, pressing his lips right against your swollen, throbbing clit. "Like this," you whispered, tilting your pelvis up, moving your hips slightly against his mouth. "Slow down. Find the beat of the song. Use your tongue like a heartbeat."
A soft, deep, rumbling hum vibrated directly against your clit as Michael caught the rhythm. He stopped rushing. His tongue flattened out, wide, thick, and incredibly warm, taking long, agonizingly wet, upward strokes from the bottom of your opening all the way up to the sensitive hood. He became completely, utterly obsessed with the sensation, sucking the sensitive little bud into his mouth and swirling his tongue around it in slow, heavy circles until you were sobbing out loud. He whined low in his throat every time your thighs twitched or your fingers tightened painfully in his hair.
He was a natural with the rhythm, his mouth mimicking the tight, syncopated timing of the track blasting through the monitors. He opened you up wider with his long fingers, his thumb pressing into your perineum while his mouth worked relentlessly on your exterior.
You were swearing loudly, completely unraveled by the sheer surrealism of the moment—the contrast of his sweet, high innocence and the absolute, calculated destruction he was wreaking between your legs. "fuck, just like that."
Hearing you use that dirty language seemed to ignite something even deeper in his high brain. He became more aggressive, more demanding. His large hands gripped the backs of your thighs, his fingers digging into your skin with enough force to hold you completely still as he buried his face impossibly deeper into your heat, literally devouring you. He was completely intoxicated by the slick, heavy taste of you, entirely focused on the way your muscles were beginning to tremor under his mouth.
He kept up that steady, torturous, rhythmic beat until you were gripping his curls with both hands, your hips lifting completely off the leather of the couch as the climax hit your nervous system like a bolt of lightning. You fell apart, crying out his name into the empty studio, your internal walls clamping hard and fast in an intense, rolling release.
Michael stayed right there through the entire duration of your orgasm, his tongue unyielding, working through the violent pulses of your body, taking a few final, possessive, slow licks to catch every single drop of your sweetness before he finally, slowly slid back onto his heels.
He looked up at you from the floor, his curls beautifully messy, his eyes heavily hooded and thoroughly glazed over with pleasure. A thoroughly smug, dazed, and high grin spread across his wet lips. He slowly swiped his tongue over his bottom lip, deliberately tasting the sweet, thick mix of you and the lingering grass on his palate.
"Yeah," Michael murmured. He leaned his chin heavily against your bare thigh, letting out a deeply satisfied, sleepy, and utterly ruined sigh into your skin. "Taste is definitely better."
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