𝐕'𝑠˚˖𓍢ִ໋𝐵𝑙𝑜𝑔˖

˚♪💋 𝐣𝑒𝑟𝑚𝑎𝐣𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑦𝑠 𝐁𝑎𝑏𝑦 𝐦𝑎𝑚𝑎.ᐟ 🪩♪˚

[bbcouture-69]

₊𝄞♪˚•┈┈┈┈⋅welcome⋅┈┈┈┈•˚♪𝄞₊ 🪩

To the blog 💋

For shytz & gigglez.ᐟ

˚ 𝐀𝑓𝑟𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑥 .ᐟ 8ᵗᵉᵉⁿ .ᐟ 𝐒ℎ𝑒/𝐇𝑒𝑟 .ᐟ 𝐁𝑖 .ᐟ 𝐝𝑦𝑠𝑙𝑒𝑥𝑖𝑐 .ᐟ 𝐢𝑠𝑓𝑝 🪩

💋

𝐣𝑒𝑟𝑚𝑎𝑗𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑦𝑠 𝐨𝐧𝑒 & 𝐨𝑛𝑙𝑦 𝐛𝑎𝑏𝑦 𝐦𝑎𝑚𝑎💋.ᐟ

🪩 𝐎𝑓𝑓 𝐓ℎ𝑒 𝐖𝑎𝑙𝑙 .ᐟ 🪩

𝐢'𝑣𝑒 𝐎𝑛𝑙𝑦 𝐰𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑡𝑒𝑛 𝐨𝑛𝑐𝑒, 𝐢 𝐦𝑎𝑦 𝐭𝑟𝑦 𝐚𝑔𝑎𝑖𝑛.ᐟ 💋

☟︎︎︎

𝐌𝑖𝑐ℎ𝑎𝑒𝑙 𝐇𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑐𝑎𝑛𝑜𝑛𝑠 𝐛𝑙𝑢𝑟𝑏𝑠 🪩

Divider by @strangergraphics

[deerlyenchanted]

ALL THE TIME 18+ minors dni

MY CONTRIBUTION TO THE SUB/SWITCH AND VOCAL MICHAEL AGENDA + SOME OVERSTIM. meant for mature/history era but any era fine (off topic i had the worst migrane today I hate having low iron so low effort post. BUT I GOT UP N WROTE AFTER I SAW A X POST, IF U PUT IN A REQUEST NWS ITS COMING ALSO SEND NEW REQUESTS ML) not proofread idc.

Michael stood in front of the full-length mirror, adjusting his shirt for what had to be the tenth time. His brow was furrowed, his lips pressed into a thin line.

You watched him from the bed, propped up on your elbows, a soft smile on your face. He'd been at this for the better part of twenty minutes, and you'd let him have his moment, but enough was enough.

"I don't know," he murmured, almost to himself. "I don't know if this is working."

"Michael."

He didn't turn around just kept staring at his reflection. "I've gained weight, Tink. I'm not in my prime anymore."

You got up quietly, crossing the room until you were standing right behind him. He still didn't notice you, too focused on picking himself apart in the mirror.

He'd filled out. That was true. But not in the way he thought. His shoulders were broader. His thighs were solid, filling out his pants in a way that made your mouth dry. And his ass you had to stop yourself from staring too long.

He finally caught your reflection, blinking in surprise. You rested your chin on his shoulder, your arms coming up to wrap around his waist from behind. Your hands settled on his stomach.

"You look good enough to eat," you said softly, squeezing his hand. He let out a flustered laugh, his cheeks goin' pink. "Tink." "I'm serious." You pressed a kiss to his shoulder. "You're so handsome, Mike. You've filled out in all the right places." 

He looked at you in the mirror, his eyes still uncertain. "Yeah?" "Yeah." You squeezed his hand again. "I wouldn't lie to you." He bit his lip, still looking unsure, but the tension in his shoulders had eased just a little.

You guided him toward the edge of the bed, your hands gentle but firm on his chest, pushing him down until he was sitting. He looked up at you, his legs spread wide, his hands resting on his thighs.

"What are you" You stepped between his thighs, your hands coming up to cup his face. "I'm gonna show you exactly what you do to me."

Ten minutes later, Michael was a wreck.

His head was thrown back against the headboard, his eyes squeezed shut, his lips parted as soft, broken moans fell from his mouth. One hand was buried in your hair, fingers tangling in your curls, while the other gripped the sheets beside him, knuckles white.

"Mmph, Tink fuck—" His hips bucked involuntarily, his breath coming in ragged gasps. His thighs trembled beneath your palms, the muscles tensing and relaxing, and you felt every shudder run through him. "Right there—just like that don't stop."

His head rolled to the side, his eyes fluttering open just enough to look down at you. The sight of you between his thighs, your lips wrapped around him, your hand stroking what your mouth couldn't reach, made a fresh wave of heat flow through him. His stomach tightened, his breath hitched.

"You're so good at this," he breathed, his voice wrecked and barely above a whisper. "So, so good, mama. Best I've ever had. Best I'll ever have."

You pulled back slowly, just enough to look up at him, your lips still ghosting the tip. "Yeah? You think so?"

He let out a desperate whine, his hips chasing your mouth. "Don't tease…please"

You smiled, your hand stroking him lazily. "I'm not teasin'. I'm just askin'."

"You know you're good," he gasped, his head pressin' back against the headboard. "You know—hmph…”you know exactly what you're doin' to me."

His hand in your hair tightened, not pullin', just holdin'. Groundin' himself. His thumb traced a slow, gentle circle against your scalp, a tender contrast to the desperate sounds fallin' from his lips.

"God, look at you….look at my pretty wife—" His voice broke into a moan as you took him back into your mouth, deeper this time, your tongue workin' him just the way he liked. "Taking care of me so good. Making me feel so good."

His hips started to move a slow, shallow thrust, meeting the movement of your mouth. His hand guided your head gently, showing you his rhythm, his breath came in faster with each thrust.

"Just like that, mama, yeah right there."

You pulled off again, your hand continuing  to stroke him as you pressed a kiss to his inner thigh. He jolted, a surprised moan escaping him.

"Tink—"

"You're being so good for me," you murmured against his skin, your lips trailed up his thigh. "So vocal. I love hearing you."

His breath hitched. "Yeah?"

"Mmhm, also helps that you look so handsome.." You took him back into your mouth, your eyes locked on his, and he let out a shudderin' groan.

His free hand came down to rest on your cheek, his thumb brushing across your skin, his eyes meeting yours with hazy devotion. He watched you like you were the only thing that mattered.

"I love you," he slurred, the words tumbling out between moans. "Love you so much, love the way you touch me ‘nd love the way you look at me fuck,Tink you're so beautiful like this."

His breath hitched, his whole body tensed as he got closer. The rhythm of his hips grew more urgent, his grip on your hair tightening just slightly. 

"I'm close. I'm real close, you gotta. If you want me to.."

You slowed down deliberately, dragging your tongue along his length at an agonizing pace. He let out a frustrated whimper, his hips bucking up.

"Please! Tinka, please."

You hummed against him, the vibration making him gasp. "Please what?"

"Please don't stop let me cum, been so good."

You smiled, taking him deep again. His words dissolved into a long, shuddering groan, head falling back again, his throat was exposed and vulnerable. The muscles in his thighs quivered, his stomach clenching as he fought to hold on.

"Just like that, right there. yeah don't stop, Please feels too good."

His chest rose and fell in quick, shallow breaths, his moans growin' higher, more desperate. "Mama I'm—I'm gonna"

He came with a broken groan his hips thrusting up once, then twice, as he spilled into your mouth. His body shuddered through it his hand still cradling your head, his breath came in ragged uneven gasps. 

But you didn't stop.

You slowed down, but you didn't pull away. Your tongue kept moving, softer now, lapping at him gently, working him through the sensitive aftershocks. His hips jolted, a sharp breath escaping him.

"Tink—baby that's" He let out a breathless laugh, his hand tightenin' in your hair. "That's sensitive "

You pulled off just enough to murmur against him, "I know."

Then you took him back in, your tongue flicking over his tip. His whole body jerked. "Okay okay, I felt that—"

But he didn't tell you to stop. His head fell back again, his eyes fluttered shut, his breath coming in short, uneven pants. His grip on your hair loosened, his fingers just rested there.

"You're gonna kill me," he mumbled, his voice slurred and dazed. "Sweetest death I could ask for."

You smiled against him, your hand stroking him gently as your mouth worked him through the oversensitivity. His thighs started trembling again, his hips twitching as you pulled another response from him.

"Baby, I don't know if I can—" His protest died into a moan as you took him back into your mouth, your hand strokin' in rhythm. "You're determined, huh?"

You pulled off again, your hand continuing to stroke him as you pressed a kiss to his hipbone. "I want another one from you."

He let out a shaky laugh. "You're gonna drain me dry." "That's the plan."

He looked down at you, his eyes hazy and full of love, a lazy smile spreading across his lips.

His hand came back to your cheek, thumb tracing your skin as he let himself relax into it. His moans grew softer, breathier, his body open and vulnerable beneath your touch.

"Such a good wife," he murmured, his voice barely a whisper. "Takin' such good care of me. Don't know what I did to deserve you."

His hips rolled gently, meeting your movements, and you felt him start to harden again, responding to you.

"There you go," you murmured against him, feeling him twitch on your tongue.

His hand slid into your hair again, gentle this time guiding you with soft pressure.

"Go ahead, mama. Take what you want. I'm yours."

scrapped idfk i gotta headache lmk if we want a full fic version tho :)

[instinctprt2]

⤷ ೃ ◛* (18+) just got my first wax ever and of course, my horrid mind got an idea. sooo sub top dangerous era!michael who becomes insatiable after you get your first brazilian wax.

After sitting your boyfriend down on the bed to show him a “surprise”, you unbuttoned your jeans and pulled them down along with underwear to show him the heart you had your wax technician leave with your pubic hair.

“Like it?” You questioned innocently, as if your bare pussy wasn’t being flaunted in his face. He was shocked, but pleasantly. You had to stop him from trying to devour you right then and there, telling him that you were told to wait at least three days before any intercourse.

You don’t think you’ve ever seen Michael more needy in your life in the days that followed, with him being extra clingy, doing silly things like standing behind you while you brushed your teeth in only your panties, watching intently while you undressed for your showers, and giving you puppy dog eyes while trying to convince you to let him just touch you, saying things like “only your clit”, to which you denied countless times. He resorted to just staring you down as you walked the house, only thinking about stuffing his face, hands, or better yet, his dick in between your bare cunt.

His last straw came when he awoke from his slumber and saw you cooking breakfast in his favorite nightgown that you owned. He stood to the side of you, hand wrapped around your waist as he peered onto the pan of sausage you were cooking.

“Smells good,” He mumbled, rubbing the sleep out of his eye. “What is today?”

“Monday..? Why’d you ask?” You looked at him with a chuckle and raised eyebrows, confused at the odd question. Before you could prod him further, he now stood behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist while laying his head on your shoulder.

“Mmm,” He groaned sleepily, hand traveling up your body to grip your breast over your clothes. “That’s wonderful.” you could hear the cheeky smile in his voice.

“Michael. Hands off. Wait until tonight,” You swatted his hand away before picking up the spatula to flip the food, holding the handle of the pan with the other. You were surely horny and ovulating, but you still didn’t want to risk anything.

“Baby please,” He muttered, and with a quick movement of his hand, the back of your nightgown was pulled up to reveal your bare ass. “And you’re not wearing anything under here. You want me to go crazy.” He whined, and you let out a loud sigh before quickly reaching back to hit his hand again.

“Michael. You don’t listen. I told you, just wait until tonight. I’m gonna burn this damn meat if you don’t leave me alone right now.”

“Let me just look, please..I won’t do anything.” He asked again, but he didn’t need to as he took matters into his own hands and lifted up your gown again, pulling up the fabric to bunch it up at your abdomen as he stared at the fat of your ass—and best of all— the cute little heart that sat on your pubis.

You ignored him at this point, letting him take the piss, rolling your eyes to yourself as you went back to cooking, lifting the pan up to shake the goodness, making your ass jiggle a bit in the process. Michael audibly groaned at this, gripping your ass in his hands and shaking it again for his entertainment.

“Cut it out. You’re getting worked up,” You strained, lowering the heat now as your sear on the meat was almost perfect. “Go sit on the couch and wait for the food. I’ll give you a little attention then.”

There was silence, and you thought he was thinking it over like a rational person, until you felt something hard pressing at your folds. You let out a gasp, ready to completely go off on him, but within seconds his cock was already slid deep inside of you. Completely taking you from behind, he let out a drawn out moan at the feeling he had been craving, his big hands coming around to grip your upper thighs for leverage. Your jaw dropped open at the sheer audacity, as well as the pleasure that was now surging through your body.

“God,” He cursed under his breath as he got used to your warmth, gyrating his hips in a circular motion that had your brain going dumb. “I’m so sorry,” He half apologized, beginning to slowly pull himself in and out of you, coating himself in your essence. “Woke up thinking about you, about this..”

“You’re beyond full of shit..” You choked out, breathlessly, wobbly hands going to turn the fire off under the food you knew wasn’t getting finished anytime soon.

“I know, I know,” He whined sleepily. He pulled your back flush to him, leaving little to no room between the two of you, moving his hands from your thighs to grip both of your clothed tits as he sped up his thrusts. “But I just can’t help it. You’re so wet.”

Broken moans began to fall out of your mouth as he was practically using you for his pleasure, leaving you helpless in his grip.

“I love you baby, mean it,” You could hear his mouth fall open, panting heavily as you could feel his breath against your head. The wet noises coming from him fucking you were obscene. “Sorry, sorry, sorry. Forgive me.” He whimpered and panted heavily in between his thrusts, moving one of his hands down to cup your pussy, thumb running over the patch of hair.

“M’ gonna cum, inside of you, right now,” He babbled aimlessly in your ear, far too gone from the pleasure, letting out all kinds of desperate noises whilst he thrusted his hips into you similarly to a horny dog in heat.

With one last shaky thrust of his hips, he spilled inside of you, coming completely undone as his body convulsed and cock twitched harshly inside of you.

“Oh, baby, shit,” He moaned almost too loud in your ear, rocking his hips a few more times before coming to a stop and cockwarming you. “I’m sorry.” He placed a kiss to your cheek, acting as though nothing out of the ordinary was going on.

“I’m buying you a dick cage.”

𝑡𝘩𝑒𝑟𝑒'𝑠 𝑚𝑜𝑟𝑒 𝑤𝘩𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑡𝘩𝑎𝑡 𝑐𝑎𝑚𝑒 𝑓𝑟𝑜𝑚..

[curlypytclubx]

𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬 𝐠𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐯𝐞.

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: pre-otw!michael jackson x blackfem!reader

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: stifled by the suffocating pressures of fame, you offer an escape for michael, an after-hours date at the local roller rink. amidst the flashing neon lights, smooth hardwood floors, and the heavy funk groove of chaka khan, their playfulness shifts into something far deeper.

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: friends turned to secret romance?, fluff, smut, mutual loss of virginity, consent is key, michael being sweet, but ends up being a freak, cunnilingus (f.receiving), unprotected p in v (practice safe sex please!), don't worry he pulls out in time, reader is thicc.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 6k

𝐝𝐚𝐢𝐬𝐲’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: this was supposed to be a double post but i finished late asf. i like to try out different aspects of black women in my writing so having a plus sized woman as the reader was a no brainer. don't worry, mikey knows how to handle it all. also, i know that i've put '70s michael out back to back, but if you can't tell; its one of my favorite eras of his. and obviously i know he definitely did not lose his virginity during this time period, but there’s something about two twenty year olds being so in love and lost within one another that they explore sexuality. i'm also gonna drop the song that's used in the story if you wanna hear it. rufus and chaka khan have a special place in my heart. as usual, if you have requests, hit me up! :)

June 16, 1979

The engine of the rented, unpretentious Chevy Nova purred softly against the curb of Hayvenhurst, its dark green paint bleeding into the shadows of the overhanging oak trees. It was just past eleven o’clock on a warm june night. The air was thick with the scent of jasmine and the faint, sweet tang of exhaust.

Inside the car, you gripped the steering wheel, your heart doing a rhythmic tap-dance against your ribs. You adjusted the rearview mirror, checking your reflection under the dim dome light. Your afro was picked out perfectly, a soft, rounded halo that framed your face. You wore a pair of high-waisted, fitted denim shorts that hugged your curves, paired with vibrant orange and yellow striped halter top that tied securely behind your neck. You looked good–curvy, soft, and distinctly, undeniably ‘70s.

A shadow darted from the side gate of the Jackson family home. The figure was slender, wearing an oversized, floppy newsboy cap pulled low, a corduroy jacket despite the warmth, and thick-rimmed glasses that obscured half of his face. He moved with a dancer’s innate grace, even while trying to appear small.

The passenger door opened, and Michael slipped inside, closing it with a muted thud. For a second, he sat rigid, peering through the windshield to ensure no cameras or overzealous fans had materialized from the bushes. When the street remained quiet, he let out a long, shuddered breath, his shoulders dropped a full two inches.

He turned to you, and the most radiant, brilliant smile broke across his face, instantly melting the tension in the car.

“Hey,” he whispered, his voice soft, high-pitched, and laced with that distinct, gentle sweetness that defined him outside the recording studio. “We made it. I can’t believe I actually sneaked out.”

“I told you I had it covered,” you laughed, reaching over to squeeze his hand. His skin was warm, his fingers long and elegant. “You ready for a real night out, honey? No bodyguards, no press, no autograph books. Just you and me.”

Michael laughed, a high, fluttering sound that made your chest ache with affection. He pulled off the ridiculous glasses and tossed the newsboy cap into the backseat to reveal his beautiful, tight afro and those deep, expressive brown eyes. He was twenty years old, at the absolute peak of his youthful radiant beauty, yet he so rarely got to just live it.

“Man, you don’t even know,” Michael said, turning in the vinyl seat to face you, his eyes scanning your appearance. A soft, distinct blush crept up his high cheekbones, and his gaze lingered on the soft swell of your chest beneath the halter top before dropping to the curve of your thighs. “You look… wow.” You look really beautiful, girl. Serious. That outfit is just… far out.”

“Thank you, Mike,” you said, feeling an intense flush of heat rise up your neck that had absolutely nothing to do with the California summer. “You don’t look too bad yourself, even in that disguise. Now hold onto to your seat. We’re going to the rink.”

As you shifted the Chevy into drive and pulled away from the curb, Michael reached down and turned up the volume on the radio. A heavy bassline filled the cabin, and within seconds, his right foot was tapping a frantic rhythm against the floorboard, his fingers drumming a complex, syncopated beat against his knee. He looked out of the passenger window, watching the neon signs of los angeles bleed together in a blur of gold and electric blue.

“It’s just so nice,” he murmured softly, almost to himself, his eyes reflecting the passing streelights. “To not have to be ‘Michael Jackson’ for a few hours. To just be Mike. People… they don’t see me as a real person sometimes, y’know? They just see the records, or the television shows. But with you… it’s different. Thank you for doing this for me.”

“You deserve to be a normal twenty-year-old, Michael,” you replied gently, taking one hand off the wheel to place it flat against his thigh. The denim of his jeans was rough beneath your palm, but the muscle underneath was solid and warm. “Tonight, you’re not a superstar. You’re just a guy out on a date with a girl who really, really likes him.”

He placed his larger hand directly over yours, intertwining his long fingers with yours, pressing your palm closer against his leg. “I like you too. A whole lot. More than I probably say. It’s just… sometimes I get real nervous around girls. But not with you. Well, maybe just a little bit right now,” he confessed with a shy, breathless laugh.

The venue was called The Cosmic Roller, a local slightly tucked-away spot nestled in a valley strip mall. On a typical Friday night, the place would be packed to the gills with teenagers and young adults sweating under black lights, the air thick with the smell of cheap concessions and teenage hormones. But tonight, the asphalt parking lot was completely empty, illuminated only by a single, buzzing sodium light.

You had pulled some massive favors–and spent a considerable portion of your savings to rent the entire venue out for three hours after closing. The manager, an older gentleman who had been a fan of the Jackson 5 since their early Motown days, had promised absolute discretion, leaving the back employee door unlocked and the main system primed for your arrival.

When you pulled the car around to the rear entrance and killed the engine, Michael peered out the window at the glowing neon sign of a winged roller skate in the window, his eyes wide with pure, childlike wonder.

“We really have the whole place?” he asked, turning back to you with an expression of utter disbelief. “Nobody else is gonna walk in? Not even Marlon or Randy?”

“Nobody but us, Mike. I promise. Come on.”

You grabbed your custom outdoor skates from the trunk–classic white leather with bright pink polyurethane wheels while Michael carried the brown leather rental pair the manager had left on the bench for him. Stepping inside the darkened rink was like entering a temple of pure, unadulterated funk culture.

The floor was a massive, gleaming expanse of polished hardwood, reflecting the overhead neon rings of hot pink, electric blue, and vibrant green that hovered like flying saucers above the track. The air smelled familiarly of floor wax, popcorn, and old vinyl records.

Michael practically bounded over to the carpeted benches near the rental counter, his earlier hesitation completely evaporated. He kicked off his loafers and began lacing up the high-top skates with quick, eager movements, his tongue sticking out slightly between his teeth in concentration.

“I used to skate a lot when we were younger, you know.” he said, looking up at you through his eyelashes, a playful, competitive glint dancing in his dark eyes. “Back in Gary, and when we first moved out here to Encino, Marlon and I used to tear up the rinks. I’ve got some serious moves, girl. Don’t think you’re gonna have to carry me around the floor tonight.”

“Oh, really?” You stood up, testing your balance on your wheels, your hips automatically swaying to the faint, ambient hum of the building’s amplifiers. You looked down at him, letting your eyes track the lean, elegant line of his torso, the way his black silk button-down shirt was tucked neatly into his high-waisted denim. “We’ll see about that, Jackson. Let’s see if you can keep up with a girl with a little more cushion to her pushin’.”

Michael’s jaw dropped slightly, a deep, breathless chuckle escaping him as a dark contrast to his usual high laugh. “Oh, you’re bad. You think you’re real bad, don’t you? Saying stuff like that. Man, you make my head spin.”

“I know I am,” you winked, rolling backward toward the rink entrance with effortless, practiced grace, the wheels humming smoothly against the wood.

Michael stood up, his long, slender legs slightly wobbly at first as his center of gravity adjusted to the slickness of the hardwood. He let out a dramatic, high-pitched yell, his arms flailing for a split second before he caught his balance, locking his core with the instantaneous control of a master dancer. He skated toward the track, his movements a bit stiff initially, but gaining an undeniable rhythm with every passing stride.

You rolled over to the master control booth near the edge of the floor, flipping a heavy toggle switch. Instantly, the house lights dimmed into a deep, atmospheric twilight, leaving only the vibrant, rotating neon wheels to cast long, dramatic shadows across the empty room. You pressed the heavy play button on the reel-to-reel tape deck.

The heavy, unmistakable bassline of Rufus and Chaka Khan’s “Any Love” began to throb through the massive house speakers. Chaka’s rich, velvety, impassioned voice filled the cavernous space, the slow-to-mid tempo funk groove pulsing right through the floorboards and into the soles of your feet.

Michael was already out on the floor, gliding into a wide, sweeping circle. The neon lights washed over him in successive waves–blue, then pink, then gold highlighting the sharp, gorgeous geometry of his cheekbones and the damp, shining curls of his hair. He began to catch the rhythm of the track, his shoulders dipping low, his hips swaying to the heavy plucking of the bass guitar.

“Oh, this is my jam!” He calls out, his voice echoing in the empty rink. He attempted a quick spin, his wheels clicking sharply against the wood, though he stumbled slightly at the tail end, his arms shooting out to stabilize himself against the air.

You skated out to meet him, moving with smooth strides that accentuated the fullness of your frame. Your hips rolled perfectly with the music, the denim shorts showcasing the soft curve of your backside. When you reached him, you didn’t stop; you looped tightly around his body, brushing your shoulder against his chest, leaving the scent of your perfume in his wake.

“You call that a spin?” you teased, looking back over your shoulder with a playful smile. “Come here, let me show you how we do it on the West Coast.”

Michael skated up beside you, his breathing already a little heavy from the excitement and the physical exertion. “Show me then, big shot. Let’s see what you got.”

You reached out, taking both of his hands in yours. His palms were warm, slightly damp, his long fingers wrapping securely around your wrists. “Okay, look at my feet. You gotta keep your center of gravity low, Mike. Don’t stand up so straight. Use those hips. I know you know how to use ‘em.”

Michael laughed, his eyes fixed intently on yours, ignoring his feet entirely. “I know how to use ‘em on stage, but this is friction, girl! The floor is slippery. You trying to make me break my legs?”

“Trust me,” you murmured, stepping closer until the space between your bodies virtually disappeared. You dropped one of his hands, placing your palm flat against the small of his back, right above the waistband of his jeans. You guided him, pulling him directly into your specific rhythm. “Feel the bass. Cross your right foot over your left, then slide. There you go. Just let it flow.”

Michael followed your lead, his movements smoothing out as his natural, unparalleled sense of timing took over. He stopped overthinking the mechanics of the skates. He crossed his foot, slid and suddenly he was gliding perfectly in sync with you, his chest almost pressed flush against yours.

The proximity was dizzying. Every time the overhead neon wheel spun, it illuminated the intense, burning heat gathering in his dark eyes, mixed with raw vulnerability. He wasn’t looking at you like a casual friend anymore; he was looking at you with a deep, concentrated longing, his gaze dropping repeatedly to your lips before sliding down to the exposed skin of your collarbone and the heavy swell of your breasts lifting and falling against the tight halter top.

“You’re real good at this,” Michael whispered. His voice had dropped an octave, becoming that raspy, intimate murmur he used when he was being completely, entirely serious. He moved his hand from your waist, his long fingers sliding up the bare skin of your back, his palm resting right between your shoulder blades where the fabric tied. The heat of his touch sent a violent jolt of electricity straight down your spine.

“I have a good student,” you breathed, your wheels naturally slowing down until you were both just drifting at a snail’s pace near the center of the rink, completely enveloped in the dark, warm atmosphere and Chaka Khan’s soaring vocals.

“No, it’s not just that,” Michael said, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your breath catch in your throat. He stopped moving entirely, locking his skates. He pulled you a fraction of an inch closer, his chest pressing against your breasts. “It’s you. The way you move, girl. You got so much rhythm, so much soul. It drives me crazy, y’know? Just watching you walk down the street drives me wild. It makes me feel… real grown up, but real scared too.”

“Michael…” you whispered, your hand resting on his shoulders. The fabric of his shirt was thin, and you could feel the rapid, hard thud of his heart hammering against his ribs. You shared that exact fear, the electric terror of the unknown.

“I mean it,” he said, his voice thick with a sudden, heavy emotion. “I spend all day with people telling me what to do, who to be, how to sing. But when I’m with you… I just feel so free. Like I can breathe. And you look so beautiful tonight. I can’t stop looking at you. I don’t want to look at anything else.”

He leaned down, his face inches from yours. You could smell the sweet, clean scent of his cologne mixed with the faint, musky heat of his skin. His lips, full, soft, and slightly parted, brushed against yours in a teasing light soft ghost of a kiss.

Before you could close the gap to deepen it, Michael attempted to shift his weight to bring both arms completely around your waist. His rear wheel caught a microscopic groove in the hardwood floor.

“Whoa—!”

He lost his footing, his long arms flailing. In a sudden panic, he grabbed onto your waist for dear life. But your center of gravity was already compromised by the sudden shift. With a loud yell and a chaotic, echoing clatter of wheels against the wood, both of you went down.

You hit the floor with a dull, heavy thud, landing squarely on your backside, which fortunately provided plenty of natural padding against the impact. Michael landed right over you, his long legs tangling completely with yours, his hand planting firmly on the hardwood floor on either side of your head to prevent his full weight from crushing you.

For a long second, the massive rink was completely silent save for the echoing music of Rufus and Chaka Khan, the horn section currently blaring a triumphant, funky solo through the overhead speakers.

You looked up at Michael. His hair was slightly mussed, a few tight curls falling over his forehead, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps. He looked down at you, his eyes wide with surprise, and then, the pure absurdity of the moment hit him.

He burst into a loud, uninhibited roar of laughter. It was a deep, infectious belly laugh, the kind he rarely let out when the cameras were rolling. He collapsed forward slightly, burying his face in the crook of your neck, his chest vibrating intensely against yours as he laughed until his ribs ached.

“Oh my god,” he gasped, his hot breath tickling the sensitive skin of your collarbone. “Oh man! Did you see that? I totally wiped out! The great Michael Jackson, flat on his face in front of a pretty girl!”

You laughed too, your hands automatically coming up to wrap around his back, holding his slender, muscular frame close to you. “I told you to keep your center of gravity low, Jackson! You got cocky because Chaka came on!”

“I did, I did,” he chuckled, lifting his head slowly. But as his eyes traveled down to meet yours, the laughter died instantly in his throat.

The position you were in was intimate. You were flat on your back, your legs spread slightly with his torso positioned right between them. The friction of the fall had caused your halter top to shift slightly sideways, exposing a deep, tantalizing glimpse of your full cleavage. Your hips were pinned flat beneath his, and through the heavy denim of his jeans, you could feel a distinct, rigid hardness pressing right against your pelvic bone.

The mood in the vacant rink shifted instantly, the playful energy evaporating into something thick, heavy, and suffocatingly hot. The rotating neon wheel above turned a deep, seductive crimson, casting a red, primal glow over the sharp lines of Michael’s face.

Michael’s eyes darkened, his pupils dilating until they were almost completely black, swallowing the brown. His breath hitched, his lips parting as he stared down at your mouth. His hands, still planted on the floor, twitched against the wood. Slowly, deliberately, he shifted his weight, pressing his groin down just a fraction of an inch into your softness. A nervous tremor ran through his frame, a silent acknowledgement that neither of you had ever been this close to anyone before.

A soft, involuntary gasp escaped your lips, your hips tilting up slightly in response.

“Mike…” you breathed, your voice trembling with a sudden, overwhelming need, your own heart thudding in time with the anxiety of the unknown.

“You’re so soft,” he whispered, his voice completely stripped of its usual boyishness. It was deep, gravelly, and dripping with a raw, adult desire that made your stomach clench. “Every time I touch you, you’re just so soft and warm. It’s all I think about when I’m in the studio. It’s all I dream about. But… I don’t want to mess up, y’know? I want to make it nice for you.”

“You won’t mess up, Mike,” you whispered back, tracing the line of his jaw. “We can just go slow.”

He lowered his head, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin just below your earlobe. A violent shiver tore through your entire body. He licked a wet slow path up your jawline, his tongue warm and rough, before his mouth finally crashed against yours.

The kiss wasn’t just passionate; it was an exploration of two people learning the contours of desire together. It was hungry, desperate, filled with the pent-up frustration of months of longing, of secret glances in crowded recording rooms, of quick, stolen touches backstage. Michael’s tongue slid into your mouth, deep and demanding, swirling against yours with a possessive tempo that mimicked the heavy funk beat pulsing through the floorboards.

You groaned into his mouth, your fingers digging into the fabric of his shirt, pulling him down as hard as you could. Your thighs clamped around his hips, your heavy skates providing a strange, grounding weight that anchored you to him on the hard floor.

Michael groaned—a deep, guttural sound from the back of his throat that made you wet between your legs. He broke the kiss, his breathing ragged, his eyes wild and unfocused as he looked down at you, the heavy weight of his innocence and yours hovering in the air.

“Not out here,” he panted, his chest heaving against your breasts. “Someone… what if the manager comes back early? What if someone sees us through the glass? I want to be alone with you. Really alone.”

“The manager’s office,” you whispered, your hands reaching up to cup his face, your thumb rubbing over the smooth, warm skin of his cheekbone. “He said it’s unlocked. In the back, past the arcade games.”

Michael didn’t say another word. He scrambled to his feet, his skates clicking loudly and frantically against the hardwood. He reached down, grabbing both of your hands, and hauled you up with a surprising, wiry strength. Without letting go of your hand, he began rolling toward the back of the rink, his movements urgent, completely discarding any pretense of smooth skating.

You followed him, your heart hammering violently against your ribs, the thrill of the illicit encounter making your blood feel like liquid fire.

The manager’s office was small, cluttered, and dimly lit by a single desk lamp casting a warm amber glow over wood-paneled walls, green filing cabinets, and old concert posters from the early ‘70s. A large, worn leather sofa sat against the far wall, looking ancient but deep and comfortable.

The moment the door clicked shut behind you, Michael threw the deadbolt lock. He turned around, and before you could even draw a full breath, he pinned your body against the heavy wooden door.

His mouth crashed onto yours again, harder this time, his hands flying directly to your waist. He gripped your fleshy hips, his fingers digging deep into your skin, molding your curves to his body. He lifted you slightly, and because you were still wearing your roller skates, the heavy pink wheels scraped against the wood of the door, providing a strange, rough friction that forced your pelvis directly against his rigid length.

“Mm, god,” Michael groaned against your lips, his hips rolling forward in a slow grind that made you whimper. He was rock-hard now, the thick, unyielding length of his dick burning through his denim right into your sensitive core. “You feel so good. You don’t even know what you do to me, girl. You drive me crazy. I’m… man, I’m shakin’ inside.”

“Me too, Mike,” you confessed against his mouth, your breath hot. “It’s okay. It’s just us.”

“I want to see you,” he whispered hoarsely, his breath hot against your skin. His long, nimble fingers moved to the back of your neck. With a quick, deft pull, he untied the strings of your halter top. The fabric fell away instantly, exposing your full, heavy breasts to the warm amber light of the office.

Michael let out a low, shaky breath, his eyes wide as he looked at you. “Look at you… you’re so beautiful. s’full. Look at all this woman. You’re perfect. I’ve never… I’ve never seen anyone like you before.”

He reached out, his warm, large palms cupping the undersides of your breasts, lifting them. His thumbs brushed repeatedly over your nipples, which hardened instantly under his touch. You let out a loud cry, your hands flying to his hair, weaving through the tight, soft curls of his afro as he leaned down and took one dark nipple into his mouth.

He sucked heavily, his tongue swirling around the sensitive bud before drawing the entire aureole past his lips. The sensation was so intense, so raw, that your knees buckled. If he hadn’t been holding you tightly against the door, you would have slid right down to the floorboards.

“Mike, oh my god, Mike—”

He switched to the other breast, his teeth grazing the tip, his hand sliding down to the button of your denim shorts. He popped it open with one hand, the zipper rasping loudly in the quiet room. He shoved his hand down into your panties, his palm cupping your warm mound.

You were already soaking wet, the heat and slickness of your pussy coating his fingers the moment he slid them past the cotton barrier. Michael let out a triumphant, ragged gasp into your skin, his fingers twitching slightly with a burst of sweet, nervous energy as he encountered your wetness for the first time.

“Oh, you’re so wet for me, girl.” he purred, his voice cracking slightly with emotion.

His fingers moved tentatively, parting your lips to find your clit hidden underneath. He stroked it once, twice, his long finger applying just the right amount of pressure as he paid close attention to the way your body reacted.

You screamed into the empty room, your body convulsing against him. The heavy wheels of your skates rolled back and forth against the bottom of the door, a frantic, rhythmic clicking sound that filled the small space.

“Come here,” he panted, breaking away from your chest. He took your hand and guided you over the leather sofa.

You collapsed onto the cracked leather, your legs sprawling over the edge, your skates dangling off the side. Michael immediately dropped to his knees on the floor between your thighs. He didn’t care about the dust, he didn’t care about his clothes; his entire focus was fixed on the space between your legs, his expression a mix of absolute devotion and quiet anxiety.

He gripped your thighs, pushing them wide apart. The amber lamp light caught the wet, glistening sheen of your pussy.

“Michael…” you murmured, a sudden wave of self-consciousness hitting you as you looked down at your soft, curvy stomach and the fullness of your thighs. “The light… and I… I haven’t ever done this before, Mike. With anyone.”

He looked up, his expression melting into something incredibly tender and fiercely protective. “Don’t you dare hide from me. You’re perfect. You hear me? Every single inch of you is perfect. And… I haven’t either. You’re my first, too. That’s why I want to see everything. I want to just be you and me, learning each other.”

He didn’t wait for a response. He leaned forward, burying his face in your pussy.

The first touch of his tongue was a broad, wet, slightly hesitant stroke from the bottom of your opening all the way up to your clit. You shrieked, your hands gripping the leather cushions so hard your nails dug into the seams.

Michael was a performer; he understood rhythm, tempo, and control and even in his inexperience, his natural instinct took over. His tongue became a weapon of pure pleasure, darting in and out of your pussy, tasting your sweetness, before focusing entirely on your swollen clit. He sucked it into his mouth, using a firm suction that had you writhing beneath him.

“Oh god, Michael! Yes, right there, please!”

He moaned against your wet skin, the vibration of his voice sending ripples of pleasure straight to your pussy. While his mouth continued its relentless assault, he slid two long, slender fingers inside you.

You were incredibly tight, a pure testament to your shared innocence, but so slick that his fingers slid in all of the way to the knuckles with ease. He hooked his fingers upward, finding the magical, ribbed spot inside you, and began to pump them in a fast, wicked pace that perfectly matched the frantic pace of your breathing.

The combination was too much. The heavy leather couch, the warm amber light, the distant, muffled sound of Chaka Khan singing about love, and Michael Jackson worshipping your body between your legs.

Your hips began to thrust wildly against his face, your skates kicking out into the empty air of the office.

“I’m gonna cum, Mike! I’m gonna—”

“Do it,” he growled against your flesh, his fingers accelerating, his tongue swirling frantically. “Cum for me, girl. Give it all to me. I got you.”

With a loud, broken cry, your body shattered. Your walls clamped down violently around his fingers, and your core spasmed in a powerful, prolonged orgasm that had you shaking from head to toe. Michael didn’t pull away; he held you tight, drinking in your slick, his tongue catching every drop until your whimpers finally subsided into soft, panting gasps.

Michael stood up slowly, his face flushed; his lips wet and shining in the dim light. His eyes were heavy-lidded, dark with an unresolved hunger. He stood over you, his hands flying to the buttons of his shirt, ripping them open with an urgency that sent a tiny plastic button flying across the room, clicking against the filing cabinet.

He shrugged the shirt off his shoulders, revealing his lean, beautifully sculpted torso. His skin was smooth, his chest glistening with a fine sheen of sweat. He quickly unbuckled his belt and pushed his jeans and briefs down, kicking them away.

When he stood before you fully naked, your breath caught. He was magnificent–lean, muscular, and beautifully, heavily endowed. His dick standing proud and rigid, your eyes taking the time to trace over every vein as it trembled slightly with anticipation and the sheer gravity of what was about to happen.

He climbed onto the sofa, hovering over you. He grabbed your waist, pulling your hips to the very edge of the cushions. He lifted your legs, draping your heavy, skated feet over his shoulders. The cold metal of the skate trucks rested against his bare collarbones, but he didn’t care. The added lift gave him the perfect angle into your soft, welcoming body.

“Look at me,” Michael whispered, his voice trembling as he guided the tip of his dick against your still-throbbing entrance. He rested his forearms on either side of your head, his face inches from yours. A sudden wave of nervousness washed over his features, his chest heaving. “Are you sure? Does it feel okay? I don’t want to hurt you.”

You looked up at him, your vision slightly blurry with tears of pleasure, your own heart racing with the beautiful finality of the moment. “I’m sure, Michael. Please. I want it to be you.”

He pushed forward.

He went slow at first, stretching your tight walls, his eyes closing tightly as a low groan tore from his chest. The barrier of your shared virginity resisted for a brief second before giving way, a sharp intake of breath leaving your lips as he slipped deeper. “Oh, man… you’re s’tight… s’warm… hold on, just hold onto me, girl…”

He paused, burying his face in your neck, letting both of your bodies adjust to the sudden, overwhelming fullness. You wrapped your arms tightly around his back, feeling the tense, solid muscles of his shoulders. After a few long, quiet breaths, the initial sting faded, replaced by a deep, pulsing warmth.

“You okay?” he whispered against your skin, his voice incredibly gentle.

“Yes, Mike. I’m okay. Move… please, move.”

He pushed deeper, his hips sinking down until he was buried completely to the hilt inside of you, his hips crashing against yours. The fullness of the sensation was overwhelming. You let out a long, breathless wail, your hands wrapping around his biceps, feeling the hard, flexed muscle beneath your fingers.

Then, he began to move.

He started with long, slow, agonizingly deep strokes, careful and protective at first. Every time he pulled out almost completely, he would pause before plunging back in, driving himself deep into your pussy. As the rhythm settled, his confidence grew, the soft, fleshy curve of your thighs gripping his hips, creating a tight, suctioned seal that made every stroke sound wet and loud in the quiet office.

“Ah… yes, Mike… just like that,” you chanted, your head tossing from side to side on the leather cushions.

His rhythm began to speed up, shifting from a slow groove to a fast, frantic funk beat as the initial nervousness dissolved into pure passion. He was losing control, his usual precision giving way to pure, unbridled animal instinct. He gripped your hips harder, his fingers leaving marks on your skin as he slammed into you, his breathing turning into a series of sharp, guttural pants.

“You’re mine tonight,” he whispered, his eyes opening, burning into yours with a possessive intensity that made you tremble. “Nobody else… just us. You feel so good… damn, you feel so good.”

The heavy wheels of your skates, still draped over his shoulders, rattled with every heavy thrust of his hips. The strange, industrial sound of the skates mixed with the wet slapping of your bodies and the desperate, breathless noises you were both making created a symphony of pure passion.

You could feel the tension building inside him, the way his muscles locked up, the skin of his back turning hot and damp. Your own orgasm was rushing back, triggered by the relentless, hard pounding against your g-spot.

“Michael, I’m close! I’m–oh my god!”

“Me too,” he gasped, his thrusts becoming short, fast, and incredibly deep. He buried his face in your neck, his teeth biting down on your shoulder as he gave three final, devastating thrusts. “I’m gonna… oh god, I’m gonna—!”

He drove himself in as deep as he could go and held himself there. He finally came to his senses as a loud, ragged scream tore from your throat, your muscles clamping down on him that drew another desperate groan from his lips. You were so caught up in your orgasm, you could barely feel him pulling out of you until you felt ropes of his cum against the plush flesh of your thighs and the curve of your stomach, desperate groans leaving his lips.

For a long time, neither of you moved. He remained over you, his entire weight resting heavily on your soft body, his heart hammering like a trapped bird against your ribs. The office was completely silent now, save for the sound of your combined breathing.

Slowly, Michael eased himself off of you and as he slid down onto the floor beside the couch and pulled his legs up to his chest, utterly spent but wearing a massive smile. You sat up slowly, your body aching in the most delicious way possible. You reached down and began the awkward task of unlacing your skates, tossing the heavy leather boots onto the floor with a loud clunk. Your feet felt light, your toes curling against the cool air.

You slid off the couch and sat on the floor right next to Michael, leaning your head against his bare shoulder.

He immediately wrapped his long arm around you, pulling you against his chest. He reached over and with his free hand, grabbing his discarded shirt, and gently wiped away the stray droplets of sweat and his cum from your thighs and stomach, his movements tender.

He looked down at you, his eyes soft, gentle and filled with profound, peaceful quiet that you had never seen in him before. The frantic energy of the pop star was completely gone, replaced by a young man who felt safe, loved, and entirely whole after crossing the threshold into adulthood with the person he trusted most.

“Are you okay?” he whispered, kissing the top of your afro, his voice full of concern. “Did I… was it okay for your first time?”

“I’m better than okay, Mike,” you smiled, looking up at him and wrapping your arms around his waist. “It was perfect. That was… far out.”

Michael let out a soft, beautiful laugh, his nose crinkles showing a massive wave of relief washed over him. “Yeah. It really was. Out of this world. Man, I was so scared I’d do something wrong, but you just… you made it so easy.”

He looked around the room, at the scattered clothes, the heavy skates on the floor and the dim light. He tightened his grip on you, pulling you so close you could feel the steady, calming sound of his breathing.

“Thank you,” he said softly, his voice dropping into that sweet, sincere tone. “For the date. For everything. I don’t think I’ve ever been happy like this before. Just…being me. Being a man with you.”

“You can always be just you with me, Michael,” you said, turning to kiss his chest right over his heart. “Anytime you need to escape, I’ll have the keys ready.”

“I’m gonna hold you to that, girl,” he murmured, his eyes fluttering shut as he drifted into a peaceful, contented state of rest, completely wrapped up in the warmth of your embrace while the faint, distant sounds of the ‘70s night hummed outside the office door.

© 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐥𝐲𝐩𝐲𝐭𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐛𝐱

taglist: @muddyloserlia @loves2tour @cupidslyrics @dreamylace @michaeljacksonspyt @motormouthmj @cal3xx (if you'd like to be tagged, lmk < 3 )

[sqrixm]

Thinking about tummy bulges! Oh and Michael 3rd leg giving us that tummy bulge…

You were losing your mind.

Between the relentless, punishing pace he set and the sting of your nails digging deep into the slick skin of his back, the friction between you spiraled into pure, unadulterated ecstasy. The heavy eye contact locked between you laid bare the raw, unfiltered reality of what making love actually meant to you both. So did your mouths, seamed together, his tongue thrusting deep, devouring you completely.

When you finally pulled away, a desperate whine escaped your lips at the sudden, sharp loss of contact.

You watched him as his chest heaved, his pupils dilated wide as his gaze pinned yours, pulling you right out of your sex-hazed trance.

“Baby, look,” he murmured, slowing his thrusts just enough to force you to watch. “That’s all me, ma.”

God, the sight made your mouth water.

Glorious didn't even begin to cover it. Michael’s size was absolute madness, during your first time, it had taken five agonizing minutes of breathless pleading just to let him slide the head in. Right now, your lower belly was practically stretched in the exact shape of him, your hot, wet, velvet walls gripping him tightly, ensuring his length knew it was right where it belonged. It was a branded staple. Proof that every single inch of him was yours to claim.

Both of you stared down in breathless awe, and taking advantage of your daze, he tested his luck, accelerating his hips into a brutal, rolling rhythm. You watched in absolute amazement as he buried himself impossibly deep, while he looked down at you with fierce adoration, utterly intoxicated by the way he was making you lose your shit.

“M-Mike... I can’t—I can’t take it—”

“Shhh,” he rasped, driving into you to the hilt. “Let’s see just how much deeper you can take me.”

[loserclaire]

sweet caress ᝰ

⋆. 𐙚 otw! michael loves fingering you , mdni 18+

 

“michael…”

you couldn’t swallow down the noises that spilled from your trembling lips, his fingers moving with a beautiful, agonizingly slow rhythm that heightened the pleasure and desperation in your body. his thumb applied just enough pressure on your clit, rubbing the sensitive skin in circular motions that made every muscle in your jaw tighten. you gripped just a bit tighter on his bicep, grasping onto him while he utterly ruined you.

michael immediately looked up at the sound of your voice, his attention turning from his fingers inside of you to your completely fucked-out expression. your lips were parted slightly, needy whimpers escaping from your chest, as your eyes were fluttered shut, your eyebrows creasing in pure pleasure from the feeling of his fingers moving against your sensitive bud. he felt your hand gripping his bicep as he worked his fingers inside of you with precise movements he’d been waiting to use on you since he saw you in your short, little skirt.

michael could’ve came just at the sight of you like this; your lower body completely bare underneath him as you squirmed under his touch, your breasts perfectly pushed up against your black laced bra from his angle as you threw your head to the side against the pillow, not bearing the intoxicating weight of his eyes solely on you.

suddenly, you arched your back off the bed slightly when he found your sweet spot, the sensation far too overwhelming to stay still. your grip on his bicep tightened as he continued the flow of his beautifully slow strokes, a sharp gasp catching in your throat as you threw your head back.

“yeah? right there, baby?” he murmured, his voice emerged in lust as he placed his fingers on your chin, turning your face towards him as he rubbed that spot over and over again. you fluttered your eyes open, incredibly heavy-lidded from satisfaction as he continued the rhythm of intimacy against your bud, his fingers tearing soft moans from your bruised lips. “you feel that?”

you couldn’t take it anymore. the sound of his voice whispering filthy secrets, the feeling of his digits working so well against your wetness, the sight of his eyes never leaving yours as he took you down, was too much to take in. you lifted your hips slightly, grinding against his digits desperately to feel him more.

you could only moan louder in response, too overwhelmed to even form coherent words. he entirely wiped out every trace of thought from your brain, your whole world narrowing down to the friction of his finger against your sensitive clit in the quiet darkness of the bedroom. but even in the haze of your own pleasure, you were also becoming hyper aware of how incredibly loud you were starting to get, an embarrassing heat creeping onto your cheeks as his digits still worked with a precise gentleness against your bud.

you quickly bit down on your bottom lip, trying to muffle the moans that he threatened to spill from you from the way he moved his fingers with an agonizing slow motion on your core, pulling beautiful sounds from your lips. but as hard as you desperately tried to keep your noises low, you accidentally kept tearing needy whimpers from your throat.

michael noticed instantly at what you were trying to do, and he was not having it. he took his free hand that lied next to your head and placed it on your bottom lip, pulling the flush out of your teeth’s grip and pulling it down, making you part your lips as yet another moan escaped from your chest the second he freed your bottom lip.

“uh uh… let me hear you baby,” he murmured, his voice a low velvet, so thick with desire as he never tore his vision from the way your eyebrows creased in pure pleasure by his fingers. he felt a sudden sense of possessiveness from the sight, your mouth spilling beautiful noises and your body squirming underneath him all because of his fingers. because hes the only one who knows your body to this extent, and he absolutely loved the thought of no one being able to pull this reaction out of you. “let me hear how good this feels.”

you almost came just by the sound of his voice whispering dirty talk, heavily contrasting to how he was perceived in the public. michael was so famously known for his gentleman demeanor, his voice so soft-spoken, so sweet. but right now, while his fingers were working their way on your sensitive clit, and you cried his name like some type of prayer, something else took over him, something deep in unfiltered lust and desire. that made his voice so full of rasp and emotion. your hand found his wrist, holding onto him as he never stopped that beautiful pressure against your bud.

“that feels s’good baby…” you managed to murmur out, your voice a seductive velvet with a soft rasp to it, your voice dropping low for the intention of his ears only. your eyes clouded over with pleasure as the movement of his fingers continued on your clit. “youre gonna make me cum like this.”

michael’s breath hitched, your words going straight to the ache in his jeans, his boxers feeling uncomfortably tighter than before from the fierce, sexy neediness in your voice. he gasped at the sound of your words, his eyes looking deeply into your half-lidded ones as he completely lost himself in you, the look in your eyes far too intoxicating to tear away from.

“yeah? cum for me, mama… show me how much you love this.” he whispered seductively, his face coming inches away from yours as he nearly drove you to the very edge, your walls clamping around his fingers as the sound of your wetness could be heard in the bedroom, making your face flush a beautiful crimson as he chased after your pleasure.

that was all you needed, the coil in your tummy about ready to burst from the intense gentleness of his fingers pumping in and out of you, curling just right at your g-spot, and the lust in his voice was driving you completely insane.

his lips teasingly grazed yours from how close you guys were, your gaze tearing away from his eyes for a split second to his swollen, pink lips, his parted mouth flashing you an invitation to slide your tongue in and take all of his oxygen from his lungs. in one swift motion, you cupped his face in your hands and crashed your lips against his own, his tongue immediately clashing with yours. he swallowed all of your moans, whimpers, and cries all while he curled his fingers perfectly inside of you. “m’gonna.. oh michael—”

michael let out a groan at the sudden contact, the sound of your moans against his lips heightening the overwhelming intimacy between you two. you were quite literally drinking each others voices in, swallowing each others groans and whimpers that helplessly slipped from both your lips. the ache in his pants became far too intense to ignore, and the vibration of your breathless moans against his lips made it terribly worse. he pathetically rubbed himself against the mattress, rolling his hips in slow grinds next to you as he rubbed circular motions on your sensitive clit until you couldn’t take it anymore.

you felt it. you could feel the friction of his jeans sliding against your thigh on the mattress. he was getting off to fingering you. you didn’t even have to look to know what he was doing. your mouth went slack, a loud, needy moan escaping your lips as your orgasm finally erupted, the coil in your stomach completely snapping and flooding your body with immense pleasure. you threw your head back against the pillow, whimpers helplessly slipping from your throat as you rode out your high, your body jerking from the intense push his fingers brought upon you.

michael didnt falter his movements, his fingers still moving with a beautiful rhythm as he continued to rub himself against the mattress, cumming right in his pants from the flushed look on your face and the sound of your high-pitched moans in the quiet, moonlit room. he leaned down, taking advantage of the open space of your throat as he peppered wet, open kisses along the nape of your neck, pulling sweet moans from your mouth with every ‘pop’ of his lips.

“ive got you, baby.” he whispered, his voice low against your earlobe as he pulled away from your neck with one last ‘pop’, coming only inches away from your flushed lips, leaning his forehead against yours, your faces so close to the point that you were breathing in each others air, his exhales traveling into your inhales. “you okay?”

he looked deeply into your heavy-lidded eyes, your pupils dilated until your eyes were pooled entirely black. you nodded weakly, a breathless chuckle escaping your lips as your breathing began to slow down after collecting yourself from your intense finish, soft whimpers and breaths spilling from your chest. “mhm… im so much more than okay.”

he smiled down at you, a gentle tug of his lips as he placed a deep, soft kiss on your bruised lips, swallowing in your hums of satisfaction. he slowly slid his fingers out of your wetness, earning a soft whine from your lips, and lifting it up between your bodies. you looked at it, your breath catching in your throat from how dirty the scene was. your cum slid down his index finger, the thick white liquid threatening to spill down onto your chest from how quick it was drooping down his finger. in one swift motion, you took his wrist, guiding his hand toward your lips as you latched your mouth onto his fingers, sucking yourself clean off his digits.

michael’s eyes slightly widened, the sudden warmth of your mouth sucking on his fingers catching him completely off guard, making him lean back slightly to get a better view of you sucking his cum-covered fingers. your cheeks hallowed slightly, taking his fingers deeper to lick him clean of your arousal. he let out a quiet groan as you swirled your tongue around his finger, sucking your sweetness off his digits.

you stared up at him through your lashes, robbing the oxygen out of his lungs with the look on your face alone. you let out a hum of satisfaction against his fingers as you continued the deep stare into his dilated pupils, tasting yourself on his long, slender fingers as the sweetness rolled on your tongue.

the corner of his mouth tugged into a smirk of pure adoration, his eyes never leaving your blown-out, doe ones. before he could swallow it down, he let out a quiet hum when you sucked the last bit of your arousal from his fingers, licking every drop of cum off his digits before pulling away with a ‘pop’, leaving his fingers coated in your sweet saliva as you gave the tip of his middle finger a gentle kiss as a beautiful gesture of appreciation.

“god, you’re so beautiful.” he whispered, his gaze locked on your perfectly clouded eyes. from the sound of his praise, you let out a breathless giggle from his comment, your heart fluttering with intense butterflies.

you took his hand that you just latched off of and brought it to cradle your cheek, your face leaning into his touch as you reached behind his neck to pull him into another slow, passionate kiss. the pressure of your lips an unspoken conversation that you appreciated everything he just gave into you without saying the words just yet. he let out a hum of relief from the feeling of your soft lips against his, moving with a gentle rhythm that you entirely created on your own.

“i love you.” you murmured against his lips, diving right back into another kiss, desperate to feel his lips against yours again. he could taste yourself on your lips, the sweetness on your tongue rubbing against his taste buds, pulling him deep until he was entirely drunk off your lips. “im so in love with you.”

michael’s heart nearly thumped out of his chest, the weight of your words hitting him straight in his veins. he pulled back from your swollen, flushed lips to read your expressive eyes in the dark. you were deep in admiration, the back of your fingers mindlessly grazing up and down his arm, caressing his bicep as he shuddered from your soft touch.

“i love you so much, baby.” he admitted, smiling softly down at you as he brushed a little piece of your hair away from your eyes to see you better. “my beautiful girl.”

you smiled against his lips, your mouth continuing sweet pecks on his lips before a sudden contact made the breath in your lungs hitch completely. his huge bulge hitting against your bare thigh. you froze for a split second, the realization hitting you that he’s still incredibly hard from fingering you. you placed one last kiss on his lips before placing a hand on his chest, giving it a firm push as he fell against the mattress in a sudden, smooth motion.

michael let out a surprised gasp, his eyes scanning your every movement when you lifted yourself off the bed and lifted your leg over his lap, straddling him completely as his hands instinctively reached up to your waist, anchoring you there as his chest heaved up and down from the frantic thump of his heart.

“sweetheart… what, what are you doing?” he murmured, his breath uneven as he gripped your waist tighter, a way of holding himself together from the friction of your bare folds against his jean covered bulge, the sensation making his eyes flutter shut for half a second as he secretly loved the assertiveness you suddenly fueled in your bones.

“i can feel how hard you are, baby.” you whispered seductively, your fingers finding the zipper of his jeans as you impatiently tugged the metal down to eagerly free his length. “let me take care of it…”

“fuck… just like that, mama…”

a/n: HEY BEAUTYS this is my first post on tumblr?!!! holy debut but i hope yall enjoy mwah - claire *‧˚

[humannatures]

( ˶°ㅁ°) !!   0.4k, suggestive/nsfw fluff ) husband!michael jackson x fem wife!reader: you're head over heels with michael's new figure <3

       you can't help but love how thick michael's gotten. how, when he stretches and his shirt rides up, you can see the smooth expanse of his lower belly, just begging to be rubbed and kissed on. how his thick thighs look when he's seated (and how his already-big hands look resting against them). how the bed dips slightly when he climbs into it, unused to the increased weight. how his strong arms feel whenever they're wrapped around you, firm, grounding, certain— oh, what a man your man has become! thicker than a snicker and tastier than one, too!

"mmm," he hums gently, his thumbs running along the arches of your feet as you rest in bed, watching a movie. michael lets one hand slide up, feeling over the skin of your shin before he crawls closer, pressing his body against your side. as he cuddles you, you become overly aware of the heat of his stomach against your own, his thickness jostling against your frame through thin night-time layers. another content hum slips from his lips, and then he settles, resting one hand along your thigh before closing his eyes.

it's an innocent moment. a familiar one, even, a bout of romantic domesticity. the innocence does nothing, however, to ward off the carnal desires that begin to consume you; what you wouldn't give to have him pounding into you, tonight...

"what's on your mind?" your husband asks sweetly, "your heart's racing. is it me?" a childish smile dances along his lips as his eyes slowly open to search your face.

"it's always you," you reply, though you don't expand any further than that, keeping your gaze on the screen.

rmichael presses a kiss to your shoulder regardless, smiling against your skin. "you're such a nasty woman," he remarks quietly, "i can see it in your eyes."

"you can't see anything, michael."

"baby, i can see everything," he pauses, then adds, smirking, "i can see that you're a pervert, at least."

"don't call me that," you huff, shaking your head.

"don't be mad, honey. i like you this way." michael lets his voice slide lower, the hand along your thigh gliding upwards as he shifts to properly lay beside you. "open your heart to me, baby," he whispers, parting your legs with a firm grip so that his hand can easily reach you. his stomach and chest are a wall against your side, well-built and unmovable. "let me give it to you."

you might still be annoyed, mildly, with his calling you a pervert... but when your husband's mashed against you like that, with his meaty thighs against your own and his long, graceful fingers tracing the heat between your thighs? you're more than happy to let him give it to you all night long.

looking for more?

community needs more dad bod michael content; i'm willing to do my part, i need other fic authors to do the same. need to feel his belly against my ass/back when he hits from behind, need to rest my head against his meaty thighs when i'm done sucking him off </3 sighhhh i need papa. like just imagine telling big daddy mike "relax baby you don't have to do any work tonight" and bouncing on it while he watches, letting your hands roam his stomach and chest as you bring yourself closer & closer, and michael's biting his lip as he watches you come undone. genuinely let me tell you how i got this ring...

[angeliqcoco]

𝐆𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐨𝐥’ 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐨𝐲, 𝐌𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐲 | 𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐝!𝐦. 𝐣𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐬𝐨𝐧 ٠࣪⭑

𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐓 ( 𝟏𝟖+ )

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 ٠࣪⭑— 𝐦. 𝐣𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤!𝐟𝐞𝐦 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬 ٠࣪⭑— 𝐟𝐥𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠. 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭 (𝟏𝟖+). 𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐫/𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫. 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭. 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 (𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐡). 𝐜𝐢𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞 𝐬𝐦𝐨𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠. 𝐠𝐨𝐫𝐞 (🤏🏾). 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝. 𝐠𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐟. 𝐠𝐮𝐧𝐬.

Here it was, the big night of the century in Mississippi —the Juke Joint, hosted by..The Jacksons. All this dancing and drinking had you a bit loose, and this was your third bathroom break of the night. Crazy right?

Jackie, whose job was to guard the door, chewing on a toothpick, stared at you walking up to the door. Your kitten heels were clacking as you got closer to him. He eyed you up and down before he stood up in front of the door.

"Yo, where you think you goin'? Once again?" Jackie came close to you, inhaling the whiskey on your warm breath as he tilted his head. You rolled your eyes at him and attempted to push him out of the way, but he barely budged.

"Move, I gotta go pee," you whined, dragging your hand down his suit. Jackie followed your hand with his eyes as it dragged against him, looking a bit jocular. "Make it quick—I'm not bout' to keep watching over you, woman," You laughed a bit at his response before you slid passed him.

"Mmm, ya bet," you said, with your finger still lingering against Jackie's chest as you smiled back at him. He knew you were a bit tipsy, so he would watch you walk away from the club, swaying your hips in your silky dress.

Staring back at him as you slowly disappeared into the dark by the bushes.

"This girl, man," Jackie shook his head as he laughed when he sat back down on his stool.

You ducked down by a bush, pulling up your dress and squatting.

A soft breeze brushing against your face from the winds, releasing some pressure from how long you’ve been holding this in.

Bushes behind you sounded like they were being moved and someone was trying to fight through him.

Whispers felt like they were close, directly in your ear, “I’m not gonna hurt you, I promise,” the mysterious voice cooed.

“what?—hello?” you answered back, trying to keep quiet but at the same time freaking out.

Music and stomping feet filled the club with so much joy, as everyone danced, sweat dripping down the sides of their foreheads and hair sweating out. And the sweet smell of whiskeys and beers—roamed the musky air like a thick fog settling over a swamp.

Marlon, who was smoking a cig with his close one in age—Michael.

They both leaned against a wooden pillar, watching over the party while Tito watched from upstairs, also eyeing a couple fine ladies.

“Where’d miss..tootsie go?” Marlon asked with his tongue in his cheek to hide a smile, nudging on Michael’s right arm .

“She been drinkin’ since she got hea, I don’t know,” Michael acknowledged as he shrugged. “You don’t care?” Marlon crossed his arms when he leaned his head more forward to get a better look at Michael underneath his hat.

“Nah, I care—m’just tryna watch over my people,” Michael removed the cigarette from his lips as he slowly turned his head towards his brother with a smirk. Marlon just smiled and nodded and glanced elsewhere towards the crowd who was humming along to the music and instruments on stage.

As Marlon got a fair glance over at what was happen before him, he turned back towards Michael—as when he thought that Michael was still standing here. He was gone, leaving behind a hint of his signature scent.

“Michael..?” Marlon called out, looking behind the pillar.

Your bathroom break was finally over, you felt yourself walking more straighter than usual, and with more of a—strut.

Jackie’s head shot up once he heard footsteps become more prominent by the second; his leg stretched across the entrance as his head was rested against the wooden wall.

“Oh, hey! You’re back.” Jackie announced. He could see a hunger in your eyes, but couldn’t quite make it out. Your hands were elegantly resting in front of you as you stared at Jackie, his neck, and then back at his eyes.

“You’re gonna let me in—or are you gonna keep your leg right there?” You said with your head tilted, teasingly. “Yes ma’am, my apologizes.” He immediately moved his leg and put his hands up in surrender. “That’s what I thought,” you snapped back underneath your breath as you cat-walked passed him.

A laugh was being heard from the bar as you peeked around to see who it was. The gentlemen, Michael jackson, who was known for his wonderful vocals and sweet spirit.

You stopped in your tracks as you gave yourself the time to remember his figure. Brown suit, brown slacks, and of course his shoes, can’t forget the shoes. His white socks with red and brown leather shoes. Your breath hitched a bit, you met him before—but the more you were around him, the way you could smell him from here, turned you on even more.

Confidence was taking over your body as you walked towards him, adjusting your hair in the process. “Michael?” You cooed. Michael slowly turned around at his name being questioned by such a doting voice, and there you were, glistening under the warm toned lights. “Mm, well hello,” Michael couldn’t hold back the smirk that was fighting to be expressed.

“Hi, whatcha drinkin’?” You said as you settled yourself down on the stool next to him, staring at the details of the deep arch in his hat being shown from the light.

“Oh, this isn’t mines, I’m watchin’ someone’s drink. You?” He now turned his body to fully face you, taking in the view. You were a bit dazed at how badly you were craving him right now, even the thought of him between your teeth was enough to arouse you.

“I’ve had enough for the night,” you joked around with a little giggle as you glided your hand down his thigh.

Michael was the easiest Jackson out of the five that was there, and additionally you wanted him badly and knew a way with your words—so this wouldn’t be a difficult task.

“Can I just-” You reached over for the glass. Slowly pushing up against Michael as you stretched across him. “Wait,” he grabbed onto your wrist as his fingers brushed against your jewelry. You turned your head, moving the hair out of your face while now staring deadly into his eyes. That look gave you meant business, and you wanted it handled now.

He immediately removed his hand off your wrist and you continued moving the drink away from his, handing it to the lady who was helping with drinks. “Thank you..” you said holding eye contact with her and then back at Michael, who looked amused at your seriousness and who clearly found your lips amusing too.

You went in for it, back arching in his lap, kissing him on his lips, letting a soft moan escape him. He pulled back, now giving both of your eyes their undivided attention as a smirk slowly formed on his face. Your finger trailed against his jawline, stroking it until your finger got to his chin and then hovered over his lip.

The way this feeling was taking over your body was crazy, Michael could feel himself growing at the way you touched him so softly and how you stared at him with such hunger.

He got up from his stool, still looking a bit dazed, and offered your hand. You immediately took the invite and followed him into a room with shelves and a rug.

You locked the door behind you smirking, and then dropped it once you turned around to him, once you got him alone—finally.

Michael watched you as you locked the door, taking off his suit jacket. “Y’know I love you, right?” you asked as you took off your heels while walking towards him. Michael raised an eyebrow, confused on how you have such a strong feeling when you two just met. “I just wanna—touch you, taste you, in all kinds of ways, Mikey..” you caressed the back of his neck as you whispered into his ear, licking and nibbling at it.

The way your voice sounded, so starved, but yet demanding—sent chills down his spine. “M-me too,” his breath hitched, as he has never been around a woman such as you, with this much tenderness but control. You laughed at how pussy whipped you had him and you haven’t even put anything on him yet, but the submissive actions coming from him caused an aching sensation between your legs.

You moaned at the way he folded so quickly. “Lay,” you demanded, pointing towards the floor. He took off his hat and sat it next to his jacket that was laying next to him. He watched you lower down on his crotch as his lip was caught in his teeth.

Soon as you lowered down on him, his hands flew to grasp onto your waist. His finger tips dug into the plush of your hips and then slowly gravitated to your ass. You could feel your mouth getting watery as drool slowly escapes your mouth when you stared at his abdomen and then his lips. “Mama, you droolin’,” he stared at the drool that was connected to your lips.

“Y’wanna taste?” You cooed as you got closer to his face. He nodded and collected the drool on his fingers, stuffing them in your mouth.

Tito and Marlon were scoping the party, keeping an eye on people, trying to make sure nothing bad was happening. Then there it was—the trouble. Two men were fighting over a game, and one stole the other man's knife.

"HEY—cut that out!" Tito yelled, and the whole room went silent. The two men froze and immediately backed off from each other. "Oh, so y'all fighting in our establishment?" Marlon and Tito both grabbed for their guns, and they looked around to see how much of a mess the men had made.

"No, sir," one man said, scared and shaking his head while being out of breath. "So, the fuck is y'all doin'?" Marlon cursed, furrowing his eyebrows. They both looked at each other before they both spoke.

"He stole my knife!" "He tried stabbing me because he being a punk ass bitch!" The men argued. Tito tilted his head as he tried to listen to both while tucking his lips. "Get the knife from em," Tito ordered Marlon. The man who held the knife held it up like he was trying to fight Marlon for attempting to grab it from him.

"Try it, and I'll shoot ya'," Tito announced as he held the gun up to get ready to shoot fire. Marlon tripped him as he pulled off his leg trip takedown, and instantly grabbed the knife from him. "Keep trying me, and y'all asses gon' be kicked out," Marlon said as he backed up with the knife and shoved it in his pocket. "You'll get this back once you leave," Tito added.

“Have y'all seen Michael?” Randy interrupted. Marlon turned his neck quickly. “he’s been gone for twenty minutes,” Randy adds on, looking around. “Oh my goodness, move, boy.” Marlon snapped back and Tito looked back at the men before he followed behind him.

They walked around the place, separating while their hands were on their gun for easy access. Randy, who was by the room that you and Michael were in, heard a noise. You didn’t mind being loud since music was blasting through the place and no one was worried about that part of the club.

Pornographic moans were leaving your mouth as you bounced on his dick, as he was constantly kissing your cervix like no other. “Oh, fuck—” you panted, groping onto one of your boobs. Michael went in for a kiss to muffle both of your whimpers as he bucked his hips into you to chase his climax.

“Y’feel—so so good,” Michael whined as he pulled away from the kiss. You were getting closer alongside him and couldn’t help yourself—he was now in a very vulnerable place and you took this as a chance to scan his neck and Adam’s apple fully when he threw his head back.

As your fingers moved his head to the side to let you get a good look at his neck, his prominent and juicy veins were now being shown. Your fangs fully formed as you mouth was now salivating more than usual, you licked the spot you were targeting to bite and numbed it. “Mikeyyy” was the last thing he heard, as you cooed, the way you said it still buzzing through his ear.

“Michael!?” Randy banged on the door using his two fists. All he heard was soft cries and whimpering—of pain or pure ecstasy?

“Aah!” Came out of Michael’s mouth as his fingers dug deep into your waist, attempting to pull you off.

“Marlon! Tito!” Randy yelled for his brothers as they came rushing to the scene. “He's in there,” Randy pointed to the door and backed up. “Michael! Open the damn door!” Tito ordered as he fully pulled his gun out of his pants and put it to the side of him.

No answer.

“Michael!” Marlon yelled for him.

No. Answer.

They all attempted to break down the door as it started to bend inward.

You stopped riding him as you nibbled at his neck as he slowly began to lose blood. Blood was staining your fangs, dripping now onto your chin, your collarbone, and then onto your silky brown dress.

The door finally caved in as the three men stared at your back as they slowly approached. Your eyes were glowing with a red tint as you wiped your mouth with the back of your hands, your silk press all messy and covered with blood across your face. Your chest was heaving from the adrenaline of sucking and eating away at Michael.

You rose to your feet, giving his brother a full view of his body. He was back dressed but was holding his neck as he tried to say something. “What the fuck?” Marlon snapped, as he raised his gun and released fire directly at you. You ran out of the room screaming, hauling ass outside.

“They’re coming!” You yelled as you ran out.

Marlon ran to Michael, immediately falling to his knees. “Michael!” Marlon cried out as he picked Michael’s head up into his lap, trying to apply pressure to his neck. “M-Marlon—she- she-,” Michael tried to say but started choking on his blood.

All of them were on the ground next to him watching him take his last breath. Their eyes widen as Michael went limp, Jackie looked more confused than hurt. His eyebrows furrowed as he was deep in thought still with his brother’s blood on his hands.

“She bit him! That soul-sucking ass bitch was a vampire!” Jackie yelled out as he stared at the spot you bit him in.

“Lets go—let's go, now!” Jackie ordered, gathering all his brothers and leaving the room. But Marlon still couldn't register that his brother was really gone, right in front of him. “Marlon, please.” Jackie came back to grab Marlon by his arm as he was fighting back his second round of tears.

“Someone lock the door before he turns!” Randy insisted. Tito locked the door with a key and slowly backed up.

“What should we do?” Randy asked as he started to shake. They all looked at each other, dumbfounded, not sure what to do. “Maybe—grab some garlic or sum’?” Marlon asked.

As soon as Tito went to grab some garlic from the bar, there was a knock on the door—the room where Michael was pronounced dead.

Everyone froze as they looked toward the door, and they heard a soft but heavy voice come from behind the door. Tito put his head to the door to make sure he wasn't going crazy.

Then a big knife came through the wooden door and was instantly pulled back. Tito gasped as his back met the wooden wall behind him, in shock. “Marlon!” a voice called for Marlon. He took a deep breath and got his gun ready as he approached the door.

“Michael? That’s you?” Marlon asked as his voice shook as he peeped through the hole that was made from Michael’s knife.

“Who else would it be? Now let me out.” The voice sounded just like Michael, his brother could see his smile, nice and clean, through the hole. That little mustache of his was sitting pretty on top of his top lip as his fangs started to show.

Marlon looked back at his brother before he said anything else.

“T-that ain’t Michael, Marlon.” Jermaine stuttered as his chest started to heave.

“Oh my goodness,” Jackie immediately broke down in tears once again.

“You doin’ alright?” Marlon turned back towards the door while still peeking into the hole.

“Yeah, I’m alright. Now let me out, please,” Michael said as he went to pick up his hat.

“Y’sure? You lost a lotta blood..” Marlon questioned.

Michael grew angrier as more questions were being asked, and he wasn’t being let out. “Stop asking me all these questions and let me out, man.” Michael began banging on the door.

He began pushing the door with his shoulder, hard and using all his strength. "Michael, stop!" Tito yelled out of fear.

The room went silent as the bangs echoed off the walls.

Then there Michael was, built up all his vampire strength, backing up from the door, and he came busting through.

And he ran out of the club into the complete darkness as his brothers watched him disappear.

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ٠࣪⭑ : @swavydadon @blkkbratt @kissmyglxck @ariesthesun @anglfac @princesspluuto @plan3tch1ld @michaeljacksonspyt

© 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐪𝐜𝐨𝐜𝐨 🦢🪽 ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆

[kkgalerii]

slow melt 𐙚⋆.˚. - michael jackson

𝄞⨾𓍢ִ໋ description: just a quiet, messy night in the kitchen with some whipped cream, a crackling minnie riperton record, and michael completely at your mercy. it's sweet, incredibly clingy, and perfect.

‹𝟹 content: 18+, smut, otw!michael, sub!michael, soft dom!reader, home alone, established relationship, cunnilingus, foodplay, handjob, making out.

(a/n): hey guys! shoutout to the anon who requested this freaky ass shit! i love it tho, and hopefully i tended to your needs. 🧸

ִֶָ. ..𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ🪽་༘࿐

the record player in the corner of your massive, sun-drenched beverly hills living room had been humming softly for hours. right now, the sweet, angelic high notes of minnie riperton’s loving you were drifting through the quiet house, the vinyl crackling just a little bit in the background. it was late, the golden california sun had long dipped below the horizon, and the house felt incredibly spacious, completely empty and private. just the two of you.

michael was sitting on the plush carpet right in front of your legs, his back resting against your shins as you combed your fingers through his gorgeous, perfectly rounded afro. he sighed softly, leaning into your touch, completely relaxed. he had come over hours ago, and the two of you had spent the evening just being young and in love. you had watched a silly movie, argued over a board game that he ended up losing on purpose just to see you laugh, and now, you were both just basking in the quiet hum of your established relationship. there was no rush, no pressure. just pure comfort.

"you hungry, baby?" you murmured, leaning forward to press a soft kiss right to the crown of his dark, soft hair.

michael tilted his head back, his big, beautiful brown eyes looking up at you. he looked so soft in the dim lighting of your living room, his long eyelashes casting shadows on his cheeks. "always," he murmured, his voice incredibly soft, almost shy. "what do you have in mind, mama?"

"i think i have some vanilla bean in the freezer," you smiled, bopping his nose. "and all the toppings we could possibly want. how does that sound?"

his eyes lit up, a sweet, boyish grin spreading across his face. "yes, please. let me help you."

you both stood up, michael immediately reaching to wrap his arm around your waist, pulling you close as you walked into the expansive, white-marbled kitchen. it was incredibly modern, very late 70s luxury, with sleek surfaces and warm wooden accents. you opened the freezer, pulling out the tub of ice cream while michael eagerly searched the pantry for bowls, spoons, and the main event—a fresh can of whipped cream.

"look at you, so eager," you teased, scooping heavy mounds of vanilla ice cream into two ceramic bowls.

michael stood beside you, holding the can of whipped cream like a prize, his cheeks flushing a faint pink at your teasing. "i just like sweet things," he whispered, stepping closer until his chest was brushing against your shoulder. "especially with you."

"oh, really?" you smirked, taking the can from his hands. you shook it vigorously, the rattling sound filling the quiet kitchen. you sprayed a massive, towering mountain of whipped cream onto your bowl, then did the same to his.

michael chuckled, a high, breathy sound that made your heart melt. "that's way too much, baby. we're gonna get a sugar rush."

"there's no such thing as too much," you said, and before he could react, you pressed the nozzle again, aiming it right at his nose.

a neat little dollop of white cream landed perfectly on the tip of his nose. michael froze, his eyes widening in shock. "mama!" he gasped, his voice cracking slightly in his shyness.

"you look cute," you giggled, leaning in. instead of wiping it away with a napkin, you leaned in close, your eyes locked onto his, and slowly licked the whipped cream off his nose. your tongue darted out, dragging over his warm skin, and you made sure to take your time.

michael’s breath hitched completely. his hands instantly went to your hips, his fingers digging into the soft silk of your nightgown. a heavy, dark look crossed his eyes, his shy exterior melting just a little bit under your intense gaze. "that... that wasn't very fair," he whispered, his voice dropping an octave, becoming deep and raspy.

"who said i play fair?" you whispered back. you shook the can again. michael watched you, his chest rising and falling heavily. you grabbed the back of his neck, your fingers tangling into the soft curls at the nape of his neck, and gently but firmly pulled his head back. his neck arched beautifully, exposing his throat.

"open up, baby," you commanded softly.

michael didn't hesitate. he was so beautifully submissive to you, his lips parting as he looked up at you with completely trusting, desperate eyes. you positioned the can over his mouth and pressed down, filling his mouth with the sweet, fluffy whipped cream. a little bit of it spilled over his bottom lip, dripping down his chin. before he could even swallow, you leaned down and pressed your mouth to his.

the kiss was instant chaos, sloppy and incredibly wet, sweet with the taste of vanilla and sugar. you kissed him hard, your tongue sliding into his mouth, mixing with the whipped cream and driving him absolutely crazy. michael let out a muffled whimper against your mouth, his hands desperately sliding up your back, gripping the fabric of your nightgown as if he were drowning and you were his only lifeline. you swallowed the sweetness from his mouth, your lips sliding against his as he eagerly kissed you back, his touch needy and completely consumed by you.

when you finally pulled back, a thin string of saliva and melted cream connected your lips. michael’s lips were red and swollen, wet, and his eyes were completely glazed over. he looked so beautiful, his breath coming in short, ragged pants, his afro slightly disheveled.

"you're such a messy boy, michael," you teased, your voice a low, sultry purr.

"you made me like this," he whispered, his voice trembling slightly as he stared at your lips. "please kiss me again, mama. please."

"not yet," you smirked. you hopped up onto the marble counter, sitting right on the edge. you wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling his hips flush against yours. michael gasped at the sudden contact, his hands immediately finding their home on your thighs, squeezing them tightly.

you picked up the whipped cream can again. with a slow, deliberate movement, you sprayed a thick line of cream right over the collarbone of your silk nightgown, letting it drip down into the crevice of your chest.

"uh oh," you murmured, looking down at the mess, then looking back up at him with a heavy, teasing gaze. "we've made a mess, baby. you need to take this off."

michael’s eyes went wide, staring at the white cream against your skin. he swallowed hard, his throat bobbing. "off? your... your gown?"

"yes, michael. take it off me. right now."

his hands were shaking as he reached for the straps of your nightgown. he was so incredibly desperate, yet so gentle, terrified of ripping the delicate silk. he slowly slid the straps down your shoulders, his hot palms brushing against your bare skin, sending shivers down your spine. he pulled the gown down, exposing your breasts to the cool kitchen air. he let out a soft, shaky gasp, his eyes roving over your body with absolute, worshipful awe.

"you're so beautiful," he breathed, his voice barely a whisper. "so beautiful, mama. i don't... i don't deserve to look at you."

"you do, baby. now clean me up."

michael leaned in, his nose brushing against your skin. he began to lick the whipped cream off your collarbone, his tongue warm and rough, sending jolts of electricity straight to your core. he whimpered against your skin, his hands gripping your waist tighter, pulling you to the very edge of the counter. you sighed, your fingers tangling in his afro, pressing his head closer to your chest. "good boy, michael. just like that. you taste so sweet."

"i want more," he muttered against your skin, his voice desperate. "please, give me more."

you smirked, reaching behind you for the can. you shook it again, the sound making michael shiver. you slowly dragged the nozzle down your stomach, leaving a trail of white cream, all the way down, parting your legs wider as you coated your clit in a thick dollop of whipped cream.

michael let out a low groan, his forehead resting against your thigh for a second as he tried to compose himself. he was trembling, his entire body humming with desperate energy.

"please, mama," he begged, looking up at you, his eyes pleading. "let me. please let me clean it. i'll be so good for you."

"go ahead, baby. clean it all up for me."

michael didn't move for a second. he just stared down at the thick dollop of white cream sitting right against your wet, flushed skin, his chest rising and falling in shallow, ragged pants. his lips parted slightly, a tiny drop of saliva catching on his bottom lip.

michael didn't need to be told twice. he dropped to his knees between your legs, his hands gripping the back of your thighs to hold you open. he leaned in, his warm breath fanning over your wet skin before his tongue made contact.

"ah... michael," you gasped, throwing your head back. he was messy, completely uninhibited as he licked the cream off you. his tongue was wide and warm, swiping over your sensitive flesh, sucking the sweetness from your clit.

he wasn't being gentle anymore. his tongue was wide and heavy, flat-out lapping at you, completely uncaring of the mess he was making. he was sucking the whipped cream off your sensitive skin so hard it made a loud, wet, echoing squelch in the quiet room, the sound mixing with the soft vinyl music. his perfectly rounded afro pressed right against your inner thighs, leaving messy, sticky white trails on your skin as his head moved frantically.

"so sweet, god, mama," he mumbled, his voice completely wrecked and wet against your skin, not even pausing his tongue as he spoke. "you're so wet... let me get all of it. let me clean you, please..."

he made soft, wet, slurping noises that echoed in the quiet kitchen, completely shameless in his hunger. he looked up at you through his eyelashes, wanting to see the pleasure on your face, his tongue never stopping its relentless, wet rhythm.

"you like that?" he mumbled, his voice muffled against you. "you taste so good, mama. so sweet."

"yes, oh god, yes, michael..." he began to suck on your clit, his tongue swirling desperately, completely driven insane by the taste of you mixed with the sugar. your hands gripped his shoulders, your knuckles turning white as he drove you closer and closer to the edge. the pleasure was building too fast, too intense.

and then, you hit the peak. your body tensed, a loud gasp escaping your lips as you began to come, your walls pulsing around his tongue. but instead of slowing down, michael got carried away. he kept going, his tongue licking harder, faster, completely consuming you as you vibrated with pleasure.

your hips bucked off the counter, a loud, broken gasp escaping your lips as your walls began to pulse around his mouth. you thought he would slow down, but the feeling of your body tensing and squeezing around his tongue only drove him further over the edge.

michael completely lost his mind. his hands locked onto your hips harshly, his fingers digging into your flesh with a bruising, desperate grip that pinned you flat to the marble so you couldn't wiggle away.

"michael—wait, michael, stop—" you gasped, the sensation instantly turning into overwhelming, sharp electricity. you quickly sat up, your hands pushing at his shoulders to pull him away. "no, baby, wait, it's too much—"

you had to yank him, your heart hammering against your ribs, before he finally broke the suction. he stumbled back a couple of inches, panting heavily with his mouth open.

his lips were completely soaked, shining under the kitchen light, and a thick, sticky string of saliva and melted cream stretched from his tongue all the way down to your wet skin before snapping. his eyes were totally glossy, glazed over and unfocused, blinking up at you like he was slowly waking up from a trance.

his eyes were wide with panic, looking like a puppy that had just been scolded. "oh, god. i'm sorry, mama. i'm so sorry, did i hurt you? i got carried away, i'm so sorry—"

he stared at your shaking thighs, then down at his own hands which were still trembling on your hips. a look of pure panic washed over his face, his soft, submissive nature rushing back so fast it made his head spin. he scrambled backward on his knees, looking so small on the floor.

"i'm sorry, mama," he stammered, his voice cracking completely as he looked up at you with wide, tearful eyes. "i'm so sorry, did i hold you too hard? i didn't mean to pin you down, i just... you tasted so good, i forgot where i was. please don't be mad at me. please, baby."

"shh, baby, it's okay," you breathed, panting heavily as you pulled his face up to yours. you cupped his cheeks, wiping away some of the cream with your thumb. "you didn't hurt me. it was just... so good. i got overstimulated. you're just too good at this."

michael let out a shaky breath, his eyes softening as he leaned into your touch. "really? i didn't do bad?"

“you did perfect, baby," you whispered, leaning down to kiss him deeply. as you kissed him, your hand slid down his chest, moving past his stomach, and instantly paused when you felt the rock-hard length of him straining against his trousers. you pulled back just an inch, a knowing smirk playing on your lips.

"well, look at you," you murmured. "you're completely hard, baby. and you didn't even get to come yet."

michael’s face flushed a deep crimson, his eyes darting down. "i... i was just so focused on making you feel good," he whispered, his voice incredibly shy. "but i'm... i'm really desperate, mama. please."

you didn't say a word. you reached down, unbuckling his belt and slowly pulling his pants and underwear down, releasing his thick, hard length. he let out a soft whimper, his hips jerking forward slightly at the cool air.

you grabbed the whipped cream can one last time. you shook it, and with a slow, wicked grin, you sprayed a generous amount of warm, fluffy cream right down the shaft of his cock.

"oh, god," michael gasped, his head falling back, his eyes closing as his chest heaved. "mama... that's... oh, god."

you wrapped your hand around him, your palm instantly spreading the cream all over his hard skin. you began to stroke him, slowly at first, your grip tight and wet. michael let out a loud, high-pitched whimper, his knees buckling slightly as he leaned his forehead against yours. your lips were just inches apart, your breath mingling in the dark kitchen.

"look at me, baby," you commanded softly.

michael opened his eyes, they were swimming with tears of pleasure, completely desperate and filled with unadulterated love and need for you. "i'm looking," he gasped, his voice trembling. "mama, please... stroke me faster. i'm gonna... i'm gonna ruin myself."

"not yet, sweet boy," you whispered, kissing him softly, dragging your tongue over his bottom lip as you increased the speed of your hand. the whipped cream made a squelching, wet sound as you stroked him, your thumb occasionally rubbing over his tip, spreading his pre-cum with the cream.

"please, please, please," michael whimpered against your lips, his hips jerking helplessly into your hand. he was completely at your mercy, his voice a breathless string of desperate begs. "i love you so much, mama. please let me come. please."

michael let out a sharp, choked groan, his hips hitching upward instinctively, but you gripped his shaft tighter, halting his movement.

"ah—mama, please," he whimpered, his eyes flying open, completely wild and desperate as he looked up at you. his forehead was slick with sweat, his chest heaving. "why did you stop? please, i'm right there... i'm gonna burst."

"not yet, sweet boy," you murmured, keeping your hand firm and still around his cream-coated length. you leaned down until your lips were almost brushing his ear, your warm breath making his entire body shiver. "i want you to tell me how it feels. talk to me, michael."

"it... it hurts," he panted, his voice cracking, a tear of pure overstimulation slipping down his cheek. "it feels so tight, mama. your hand is so warm and... and the cream is so slippery. please, just let me push into your hand. i'll be so good for you."

"tell me what you want, baby. say it nicely."

you started to stroke him again, but agonizingly slow, just dragging your cream-slicked palm up to his head and twisting your thumb over his tip before slowly sliding back down. michael’s eyes rolled back, his hands clutching desperately at your thighs for support.

"i wan…i want to come for you," he sobbed out, completely stripped of all his pride. "i want to make a mess for you, mama. please, stroke me fast. just like you did before. please, baby, i can't take it anymore."

"you're doing so good for me, michael," you praised softly, bringing your lips back to his, kissing him deeply while your hand finally sped up. the wet, squelching sound of the whipped cream filled the quiet space between you. "that's it, let it go. tell me when you're ready."

"now, mama, right now—" he gasped against your mouth, his body locking up as he finally boiled over.

that was all it took. michael let out a loud, broken moan right into your mouth, his body locking up as he came, thick spurts of semen mixing with the melted whipped cream in your hand. he shivered violently, his forehead resting heavily on your shoulder as he gasped for air, his body completely spent.

you held him close, rubbing his back as he slowly calmed down, his breathing returning to a steady rhythm. minnie riperton’s voice was still softly playing in the background, a comforting, warm hum in the quiet night.

michael slowly pulled back, a soft, embarrassed chuckle escaping his lips as he looked down at the absolute mess on his pants, your legs, and your hands.

"we... we really made a mess, mama," he whispered, a sweet, shy smile on his face. you laughed, leaning forward to press a sweet kiss to his lips. “we did, baby. come on, let's go clean up."

[celestial-dreamerr]

Making out and dry humping with Michael was always an experience. Especially for Michael, being at he cums in his pants every time.

🍎⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Michael couldn’t believe himself. Why is it every time he does stuff like this with you, his body reacts so sensitively and makes him cum in his pants like some pathetic teenage boy? It’s every time, seriously. He wishes he could fix it but, he can’t help it. You just feel.. too good.

Soft noises of lips touching consistently emanated in the room. You’ve been going for a hot minute now, jaw slowly becoming taut from moving so passionately and vigorously. Saliva collecting at the corners of your lips, tongues swirling and touching every now and then, sucking on each other’s lip. You could do this for hours if you really wanted to. But, you’re hoping for a little.. more than this afterwards if you’re picking up what I’m putting down.

Michael gasps for air silently when he pulls away from your moist lips. His breath staggered. He gazes up into your eyes filled with some kind of hunger, his being big and so sweet to stare into you’ll get lost in them. Blinking rapidly for a moment while catching his breath and mouth agape, his long curled upward lashes tickle under his eye. “Oh..baby please.” He managed to get out after a pause of words not coming out of his mouth. He looked so good desperate. His large hands sat on the fat of your hips and gripped like you’d disappear if he didn’t do so. Licking his lips, he spoke again. “I need you. Can I have you, please?” He begged. “Need you s’bad, you don’t even know.” Oh but you do know. Being that of the raging boner sitting under you, jumping. You cupped his warm face. “I need you too, Michael. But, I want this t’last a little longer baby. Here, how about over the pants stuff? That’d feel good too.” You say as you put a hold on his needy cries but suggest a somewhat just as good idea. A soft thumb of yours rubs slowly over the apple of his cheek as you wait for an answer. He’s devastated, to say the least. That’s not what he wanted.

He’s practically solid in his slacks right now and knows you can feel it too. It’s throbbing and so hard to the point it’s sore even. He needs to be inside of you, but if you say over the pants stuff for now then that’s what it is. He’ll always listen to your word. Though, he’s not really happy about it, you can see it in his face and expression with the way he’s pouting right now. Lip jutting out and covered in a thin layer of shine from spit. You’d give in right here and now if you really wanted to just by looking at his eyes. They’re a weakness to you. A strong one, you’d say. You don’t get the response you were waiting for so you just speak aloud again. “..I know, Mikey. I’m sorry. But you don’t want this to last a little bit longer?” You say with persuasion in mind and give a head tilt with a look. You know he wants it to too but just with the exception that he’s in you, not that you’re grinding down on him whose dick is aching badly that it’s hurting.

“I..I do. Want it t’last. But can’t it last longer with me in you? Please mama it aches.” His voice sounds down right pathetic now. He sounds so wrecked and nothing much has happened, it’s making you soil your panties even more. His voice is also another weakness of yours. Hell, all of his traits are. But can you really blame yourself? I wouldn’t. “Michael..” you say gently but it holds a tone underneath that says ‘don’t make me repeat myself’ in the way that means what you said was final. Period. Nothing you can do to stop it. He heard the tone, loud and clear actually, and it made him pout even more. Full eyebrows curved upwards in a glumly manner. Your heart ached slightly at his cute face, but you held on to your words and put ten toes down behind your word. To make him feel a bit better, you hold his face in your palms and kiss all over his lips, mumbling soft sorry’s and promises of how you’ll make him feel good. You back up your said promises by gradually letting your hips move forward and backwards in his lap. Your clothed pussy lining up with his pulsing dick made it much worse for him but at the same time better. Because for one, you’re letting him get friction of any sort from you and two, he’s not able to be stuffed in you. So yeah, bad and good.

Michael is letting out salacious moans with every hump you make, which also makes you let out some moans of your own. Even while you’re torturing him, you still feel good while doing it. Slick collects in your panties and bleeds through the fabric to make a wet spot on the gusset of it. Your palms on his shoulders and your fingers digging into them as you make movements. His hands go up to your hips to ground him and his forehead is press against your collarbone. You bring up a hand from gripping his shirt and curl your digits in his hair. On his end, he’s absolutely losing his mind. Eyes closed and brows furrowed in immense concentration to not bust in his slacks. Don’t do it, wait. You can’t cum yet it’s way too soon—it’s pathetic of you to do so this soon. Don’t do it, not like the over times you did it. He said to himself, giving a pep talk essentially. His breathing was heavy and fast, as if he ran for a long distance. All you could think of was how amazed you were at his state of condition because you effectively him so heavily. You were proud at yourself, grabbing up a good man before anyone else could. He pays for everything and anything you want and is a mess for you in bed? What more could you ask for, really? You get real close to his ear and talk to him in a racy tone. “You feelin’ good, Mikey? You sound a little out of breath. You okay?” If teasing was something that could kill, he’d be dead. Whenever your voice gets to that specific point, it’s melts him like chocolate on a scorching day. He’ll forever get worked up just from your voice. He loves it.

Michael lets out a noise of pleasure as an answer to your questions. You knew he couldn’t even answer right now with the way you’re talking and grinding so viciously on his lap. He’s too far gone and in the clouds now, you don’t think he’s coming back down anytime soon.

After a few minutes pass of continuous moaning and soft praise, he starts his babbling again. “I—oh—baby, I can’t-I can’t hold it..It’s too much now—” his words slur and blend together as he talks with hast. He drags out some of the words in his broken up sentence. Perspiration is collected at his hairline and his tight ‘fro is dripping with it. His body is on fire, feeling like someone lit a match and threw it in his lower abdomen. The band of climax snapped after trying to hold it in for as long as he could. With a soft cry of protest, he soils his pants.

A warm patch of wetness is started in the middle of the crotch section of them. You stop your sweet anguish by stilling your hips and peek down where you’re touching. Smiling to yourself at the cum stained slacks. He heaved slowly but faster than normal as he comes down from his high. “It hasn’t even been five minutes.” You sounded almost astonished at the fact. He lets out a disappointed whine and throws his head back against the couch cushion head rest. Droplets of sweat glide over his exposed neck.

“I’m sorry Tink’, I really am—I tried to stop myself, honest. I wanted t’last because you said you wanted this to go on a bit longer.” Before he could go on with his explanation, you kiss him. Real sloppy too, just to stop his nonsense.

“Mikey, you don’t have to be sorry, it’s okay. I like it actually, lets me know that I still got it.” You giggle at your own speaking and he looks at you with an upturned eyebrow. “Whaddya mean ‘still got it?’ You’re not old.” You suck your teeth and wave him off saying it was only a joke. A couple seconds go by without talking before you get sparked with an idea. You play it off as a continuation of your previous talking.

“Besides, you cumming in your pants only means I get to lick it off you, doesn’t it?” You lean close when you said that, and it immediately got him stiff once again.

You were gonna kill him someday with that mouth of yours. Figuratively and literally.

[dreamylace]

☁︎⋆˚࿔ giving off the wall.ᐟmichael a blowjob

𑣲⋆ smut 18+, blowjob, spit play, sub!mike, use of ‘mama’ & ‘baby’, car sex. (first fic in a while sorry if i’m rusty)

𑣲⋆ michael wasn’t sure how he actually got here.

he was certain it had all started at your anniversary dinner. white wine, three course meal, recounting memories of your 3 year relationship so far, stolen kisses, playing footsies under the table, and yet somehow, you both ended up tipsy and in the back of his mercedes with his thick, hard dick down your throat.

you were drooling everywhere. spit pooling all over his half-shoved down black slacks, your pretty fingers, covered in a pretty french tip done especially for the occasion, that wrapped around his base to stroke what you couldn’t take in your mouth, and now dribbling down his balls that were tightening with each stroke of your tongue against the underside of his shaft.

“m—mama,” panted michael, eyes darting to the firmly closed partition, to the windows now fogged up with his heaving breathing that painted tinted visions of the blinding lights of the city as the car whirled past, “mmh—gosh, i—”

“just let it happen, mikey,” you purred, pulling from his length, spit connecting your plush, swollen lips from the prior excitable kisses he’d stolen from you, to the head of his twitching dick, still resting heavily in your grasp as you lewdly pumped him as you talked, “let me please you, baby.”

“o-okay..” he spoke apprehensively, not because he wanted you to stop, absolutely not, he was enjoying himself thoroughly, but because he was still the shy, timid boy underneath that infamous stage presence, and knew he’d curse himself if anyone found him with his dick half-way down his girlfriend’s greedy throat in the backseat of his car.

you smiled, pecking the tip with a gentle kiss, swarmed with a sense of satisfaction as he whimpered at the sensation, before wrapping your lips back around the tip, instantly swirling your tongue over the slit that drooled with pre-cum, humming at the sweet, yet salty taste of his premature release on your tongue.

michael shivered at the feeling of the vibration of your noise around him, only doubling the pleasure as he panted heavier…if it was even at all possible with the speed his chest was rising and falling. his head fell back harshly with a loud thud against the headrest as you slithered further down his dick, taking him deeper and deeper with each loosening of your throat, his groans and whines of pleasure only growing louder as your nose pressed against his pubic area, nestling into the short tufts of dark, curly hair that painted the skin.

“oh, baby—i, oh gosh, i, i—”

he was babbling and nearing on incoherent as your tongue darted out and flattened against the underside of his dick, beginning to trace the thick, throbbing vein that rest along it as you slid back up. your hand pumped him faster as you bobbed your head in time with your movements, spit now coating near about everywhere on Michael as you increased your speed.

you really sent him toppling over the edge when you began suckling on the head like a sweet lollipop, increasing the pressure around his dick perfectly that sent him shaking as his orgasm neared.

“o-oh my, mama—i-i’m gonna—can i...can i—mmmph—can i…in your pretty mouth, mama, please? please, please.” rambled michael, his voice coming out broken and croaked as his eyes clamped shut, the pleasure taking full control over his shivering body, hips now jutting up into your mouth as he chased his release.

“cum down my throat, mikey.” you pulled off for half a second to mumble the words that had him moaning out loud, not a care in the world who heard, before latching back onto him quickly.

“s-shit—” he cried, mouth forming into an O shape, before his cock twitched violently in the erotic enclosure that was your warm, wet, welcoming mouth.

michael came whimpering and whining, rambling on, his voice breaking aggressively with each word, his hips now bucking senselessly into your mouth, his tip punching the back of your throat as his cum filled it. you squealed in surprise around him, your hand stilling around the base, now running cold from your slick saliva, as his release spurted into your throat, settling on your tongue, the tangy taste of him consuming your tastebuds.

michael vibrated with shakes as he came down from his high, his breathing ragged and uneven as his let himself attempt to catch his racing breath, his cheeks now flushed a dark shade of burgundy as the car thumped with heat.

you slid your mouth off his cock with a giggle, swallowing his release with a content smile as you watched him, sweaty and broken, dick going limp in his lap, his abdomen and crotch soaked in spit.

“sorry, mama, didn’t mean to loose control back there.”

“shhh.” said you with a smile still on your face, crawling up his frame to settle in his lap, hovering over his exposed dick, as he sighed and rest his hands on your hips with a lopsided grin, heavy eyes finding your own, “happy anniversary, baby.”

© dreamylace 2026 ❦ all rights reserved

@cherrishkissed

[brownsugarletters]

Call Me When You Get Some Ears (Drabble)

Michael Jackson x Reader

SYNOPSIS: Michael loves to yap with reader on the phone. She gets distracted and stops listening so Michael gets an attitude (but not really).

CONTENT: fluff, any era Michael tbh he loved yapping on the phone

Author's note: Could literally see this happening in my head so hope y'all giggle like I did 😂🫶🏾 inspired by this pic I saw on twitter from this girl whose bf hung up on her after she said "huh" one too many times lol

Taglist: @plan3tch1ld @delictezz @1andonlytashae @artflooo @man-in-the-mirror58 @sunshineyrosie @hiiisisteerrrr @narratedillusions @animegamerfox @mysterioussag @blameditontheboogie @vinnstarr @anonymou000000 @j5rneymercies @khxna @sayyoulovemeziya @ttangerinexo @cvntttyybumblegumprincess @loveismymessage @miratate @sugarysweetooth

Michael had been on the phone with you for nearly two hours. You loved listening to him talk, but the man could really yap when he was comfortable with someone.

You were somewhere between checked out and half listening as you focused on painting your toes, holding the phone between your cheek and shoulder. He had called right after getting back from New York and hadn't come up for air since.

“—so we in the car, right? And 'Toya’s in the front seat with that new coat she got on Fifth Avenue, y'know the one with the big shiny buttons? So Jackie’s drivin' and he keeps looking at her like he's got something to say but he’s holding it in. Then out of nowhere he goes, ‘Toya, why you got that coat buttoned all the way up to your neck like you goin' to church? It’s 95 degrees outside.’ And La Toya turns around real slow, like she been waiting on him to say something stupid—” He started laughing hysterically to himself, wheezing before he could get to the punchline.

“That’s crazy,” you murmured, wiping polish from the side of your foot

Michael kept going like he hadn’t heard you. “—and so she go, ‘At least I don’t wear the same boots three days in a row like some people.’ And Jackie got all tight-lipped, you know how he do, and he’s like, ‘These boots got history, 'Toya. These boots walked through the Apollo. These boots—’” Michael began mimicking Jackie's tone perfectly, creating the entire visual.

“That’s sooo funny”

“—and then she reaches over and flicks one of the buttons on his jacket and says, ‘History don’t mean they ain’t dusty.’ And he almost hit a curb! I’m in the back seat with my headphones on tryna mind my business and Tito’s over there laughing so hard he choking on his soda—”

“Mmm, really?”

Michael paused for half a second, then kept going, voice getting more animated. “—so now they both goin' back and forth about whose outfit was more embarrassing, and 'Toya says at least she didn’t wear that one shirt with the big collar that made him look like he was auditioning for a disco movie. And Jackie goes, ‘This collar got range, girl. This collar been places.’ And I’m just sitting there thinking, Lord, we still got two hours left on this drive—”

“That’s crazy.”

The line went dead, a busy signal taking over where Michael's voice had been.

You sat up so fast the phone cord snapped against your wrist. Did he really just hang up on me?

You dialed him back, still half in disbelief. It rang once. Twice. Three times. He picked up on the fourth ring, voice low and deliberately bored.

“What?”

You could hear him fighting a smile through the phone.

“Boy did you just hang up on me?” you said, still stunned.

Michael let out a chuckle he couldn’t hide. “You weren’t listening to me. Hurtin' my feelings baby.”

Before you could even respond, he added, light and teasing, “ You still think everything "crazy"?”

You burst out laughing. “I was listening!”

“You ain't gotta lie to me” he said, smiling to himself on the other end of the phone. “You were on your fourth ‘that’s crazy.’ girl, I counted.” Truthfully, he had hung up to regain your full attention.

“I was listening, Michael!” You rolled your eyes to yourself.

“Then what did 'Toya say about Jackie’s boots?”

You opened your mouth— then closed it.

Michael waited, patient in that way he always was when he already knew the answer.

“See, that’s the problem,” you finally said, admitting defeat and grinning into the receiver. “You be yapping.”

“I be listenin',” he corrected, still laughing. “That’s why I know you wasn’t. I told you every little thing — the buttons, the collar, the dusty boots, even what 'Toya said about his jacket looking like it came from a disco movie. And you can’t tell me none of it.”

You could picture him on the other end, probably sitting on the edge of his bed at Hayvenhurst with the phone cord tangled around his fingers, shoulders still shaking a little from laughing at you. Michael noticed everything. The tiny details, the side comments, the way somebody’s voice changed mid-sentence. It was one of the things you loved most about him… and also the thing that made it impossible to fake listening.

“You really hung up on me,” you said, still smiling.

“You really checked out on the fourth ‘that’s crazy,’” he shot back, but his voice had gone warm. “I was tellin' you about my whole day and you were somewhere else, hummin' that song playing in the background.”

“Fine," you huffed "maybe I zoned out a JUST a little.”

“A little, mama?”

“A lot.”

Michael sighed dramatically, but you could tell he was still smiling. “Next time I call, I’m keepin' count. If you hit four again, I’m hanging up.”

You laughed, twisting the cord around your finger. “Fine. But if you start another three-hour story about one car ride, I’m hanging up on you.”

“Deal,” he said, and you could hear the grin in his voice. “Now tell me about your day. And this time actually listen when I ask questions.”

You smiled into the phone, settling back against your pillows.

Some things never changed.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

This is how I pictured Mike laughing on the phone:

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

please respect my work 💌 Everything posted here is written by @brownsugarletters. Please do not repost, copy, translate, claim as your own, upload to AI tools, or share my writing outside of Tumblr without permission.

I put a lot of care into these stories, so please keep them here and respect my space.

[cheremj]

Sensitive

contains semi-fluff, smut (minors dni), hickeys, teasing, dry-humping, whiny mike, you get a kick over making him pathetic

Michael couldn’t stop giggling.

You were trying to show how much you’ve missed your boyfriend, peppering his neck in the gentlest kisses to create goosebumps, but he couldn’t stop giggling.

Your clock reads 1 am, a chill in your room due to the half opened window Michael climbed in from an hour ago, parents passed out down the hall but now you’re not too certain with how loud he’s becoming.

“Michael.” You deadpanned for the third time, pulling away to watch him sheepishly cover his mouth.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, just tickles..” As if it wasn’t obvious to you already, to which you rolled your eyes at. Deciding to be a little mean, you continue a little more. “Oh, what does? You mean this?”

You couldn’t help yourself. Michael’s laughter is the most melodic sound you’ve ever heard, dare you’ll say it pleases your ears more than his singing voice. The kind of laughter that has you not wanting it to ever end. However, unfortunately it did, because in the midst of your tickly kisses, your lips pressed a little too firm on a spot near his ear, letting out a moan before he could even think to stop it.

You both simultaneously freeze, Michael due to shock, and you trying to decide if you heard correctly or not. Suspicions were confirmed the minute Michael tried to babble out an embarrassed explanation, but you didn’t care for none of that. You wanted him to make that sound again.

“Oh, did you like that?” You asked, yet knowing the answer already. You don’t even wait for a response, going back in search for that particular sensitive spot, pressing a repeated kiss there.

He delivered another noise for you, this one sounding a little whiny which is coming from his shy nature, and the moan he did earlier because it’s sending heat all the way down to his pants.

And boy, do you feel it.

A tent forming in his pants that is gradually getting tighter because you now let your tongue peek through your slow kisses up his neck. You sense him wanting to say something, worried he’ll get too loud and get the both of you caught, but his greed is stronger as hands now find their way to your hips, encouraging you to start grinding down.

But you don’t, not yet at least.

You don’t budge, hovering a bit. “Don’t do this to me, baby..” He often says when he’s not getting what he wants, having you pull a smile. You get bolder — kiss, suck, then lap the hickey with your tongue. One hand leaves your hips to cover his mouth, aware he won’t be able to help himself.

“Can’t believe I’m now finding out how sensitive your neck is, Mikey. I wonder if I could make you come from just this?”

Surely you must be joking, he thought.

Him fighting to stay quiet with a trembling hand clamped over his mouth only gave you fuel to keep going, pathetic looking real good on him.

The hickeys you create are scattered on all different places on his neck, almost like you’re trying to not miss a single spot. As you like to believe you’re not entirely evil, you pull away to start grinding down on his bulge that’s been aching for any type of friction, soaking up the way he sharply inhales through his teeth. He uncovers his mouth to hold your hips again, to keep your moves real nice and slow.

You press your palms on top of his chest for balance, your grinds getting more desperate and needy when your clit keeps getting hit perfectly by each tiny buck of his hips. Room is no longer filled by the sound of the cold wind coming from outside, instead being of your guys hushed noises of oohh’s and aahh’s.

Until you opened your eyes to look down, and not being a fan on how lonely and naked the left side of his neck looked in comparison to his right, painted by your reverence. You couldn’t let that slide, right?

His voice cracked in the middle of another moan being ripped out from his throat the second you bring your face back down to his neck, repeating the same pattern that’s been turning him into a breathless mess. Kiss, suck, then soothe it with your tongue.

“Please baby, you’re gonna kill me.” He gasps out, since just because you’re back to giving attention his neck, your grinds haven’t stop. Two pleasurable feelings mixing together into one is overwhelming every bone in Michael’s body, mouth open to let all noises be set free that he’s given up on holding back.

You wanted to tease, to edge. Michael being a trembling mess beneath you all because you accidentally discovered something new he enjoys that he himself didn’t know until now, how could you not take advantage of it and have a bit of fun?

Although, you became a little too eager. Lips running across to stop in the middle of his neck, feeling his adam’s apple throb with each whimper. You plant a kiss there, then suck, and that’s what did it for him.

Michael pants heavily from beneath, eyebrows screwed and eyes shut, a face you recognize all too well what it meant. “No way..” You softly breathe, stopping the movement of your hips.

“You’re so mean to me.” He whines into his hands, causing you to huff out a scoff. “Right, like you were telling me to stop.”

You giggle at his silence, all so telling. “You’re not mad though, right?”

He gives you a reassuring shake of his head, pulling you back on top to kiss you all over your face. “Never mad at you.” You hum as his kisses get softer, lolling your head to the side as they get lower.

Until you let out a giggle at a particular one because it tickled, making you both still. There was no point in backing out of it, as Michael’s already flipping your positions, now hovering over you with nothing but a sweet revenging glint in his eyes.

Your giggly pleas fall on deaf ears, smothering you in tickly kisses with an occasional playful growl. You swore you were keeping it hushed, but the next morning with your parents already waiting for you at the kitchen, sharing pointed looks that makes you wanna shrink, says otherwise.

[sculpted2]

otw!era micheal starts crying cause you feel n’ taste too good..

18+ mdni

“baby, be quiet.”

you whisper as your hands frame each side of his head. you lean down, your breasts pressed warmly against his chest. you kiss michael deeply, lips crashing to muffle his needy whimpers. you can’t be caught today.

“oh my gosh,” he breathes against your mouth, his voice trembling and already breaking.

his hands grip your thighs hard, fingers digging in as he tries to ram up into you from below. but this isn’t enough for him. he needs more.

you keep riding, your walls clenching tight around his thick length. his eyes are glistening beneath you, wet and shining in the low light. you assume it’s just sweat, the heat of your bodies making everything slick and shiny.

but he keeps whimpering, soft broken sounds spilling out no matter how hard you kiss him.

yet for micheal you riding him wasn’t cutting it.

he flips you onto your back with a desperate groan. you yelp in shock as he hooks your left leg high over his shoulder, stretching you open in ways you didn’t even know were possible. he thrusts in hard, his cock kissing deep inside you and pressing right against that perfect spot.

relentless strokes follow. sweat slicks your bodies, pressing hot and slippery together. the room smells heavily of musk and sex. in this new position his whimpers grow louder, the deeper sensation driving him wild.

“shh, sweetheart,” you murmur, covering his mouth with your open palm and pulling him closer. “you have to be real quiet.”

even then he keeps moaning into your hand, trying his hardest. he bites gently down on your palm. your eyes roll back at the overwhelming feeling. your palm slips.

he buries his face in your neck, lips pressing desperately against your skin while his hips keep driving deep. the slick slide of skin on skin is filthy, your sweaty bodies gliding together with every thrust. the pressure against your pussy makes your body pulse while the tight heat of your walls squeezes him relentlessly.

you turn your head, spot your discarded panties nearby, and think it’s brilliant—the smartest idea. stuffing them in his mouth should finally shut him up.

you reach for them and push the soft fabric between his lips. you expect it to quiet him down, to finally give you some control.

instead, the opposite happens. michael moans even louder around the panties, the sound vibrating through you. to him this is the best of both worlds—he gets to taste your sweet essence and fuck you at the exact same time. it’s basically his dream come true.

being completely surrounded by you, wrapped in your tight heat while your taste floods his mouth, overwhelming him in a way nothing else ever has.

that’s when you feel it—warm teardrops landing on your cheeks, sliding down your skin.

your eyes flutter open. when you look up, michael’s face is completely fucked out, eyes glassy and half-lidded, tears steadily rolling down his flushed cheeks. his lips are spit-stricken and abused around the bunched fabric, trembling as he bites down hard on the panties trying to hold back the noises.

his hair is a total mess, sticking to his forehead in sweaty strands. he looks so pathetic whimpering over you like this, every thrust making fresh tears slip free because the pleasure is simply too much.

“mikey… sweetie, are you okay?” you whisper, panic cutting through the heat.

he nods quickly, whimpering around the panties, voice muffled. “it just feels… s’good,” he chokes out, tears spilling faster.

“m’sorry baby… i don’t know why… its too much… you feel—“

you reach up to pull the panties from his mouth, worried, but his hand shoots down, grabbing your wrist and interlacing his fingers with yours. he pushes your joined hands down onto the mattress beside your head, pinning you there gently but firmly. he shakes his head, eyes pleading even as more tears slip free.

“no.. no please just..,” he takes in a breath, trying to regain any sense of composure. “just keep them in..”

he keeps driving into you with slow, grinding rolls of his hips, chasing that all-consuming sensation. he’s so overwhelmed—completely wrapped in your slick heat, your taste on his tongue, every sense drowning in you.

your breath hitches, your toes curling as the white-hot tension in your lower stomach threatens to snap. you are completely at his mercy, his whimpers and tears only turning you on more.

“mikey… stop crying, baby, you’re gonna—” you gasp, your fingers tightening around his as your own climax rushes up to meet him.

the desperate squeeze of your walls wrapping around him like a vice is the final trigger. michael’s eyes roll back, more tears spilling as his entire body locks up in a rigid, trembling line.

at the exact moment your body fractures into a violent, pulsing orgasm, he drives into you one last, impossibly deep time.

a choked, muffled cry of absolute surrender is strangled in his throat by the panties as his release floods hot and deep inside you.

your contractions clamp down on him relentlessly, milking him dry as you both shudder together, completely spent drowning in the post-sex sensation.

you brush a tear from his cheek with your free thumb, still catching your breath,

“m’aww such a crybaby”

✧˖°.

a/n: if you already saw me post this.. no you didn’t

[entomology-enby]

PLEEASE OFF THE WALL MIKE SMUT he'd be so shy, needy, and handsome

Sweet Boy

otw! michael jackson x 𝒇em! reader ╱established relationship ╱ smut ╱ drabble

Era: Off the Wall

Summary: While being intimate, Reader calls Michael a nickname that flusters him.

Tags: no plot, just porn (like the wattpad writers before us intended), sub! michael, soft dom! reader, michael calls reader “baby” and “mama” (it’s basically required now), reader calls michael “baby”, “mikey”, and “sweet boy”, cunnilingus, fingering, michael is shy af, reader talking michael through it lowkey, michael asks for explicit consent (a true gentleman), Michael turned on by you tugging his hair (?)

Wordcount: 482

Masterlist

Michael’s lips found their way down your inner thighs, one of his hands tracing gently patterns on your leg. He looked up at you, hesitant. “Baby…is this fine?” He said, resting his head against your leg. Your hands reached to cup his jaw, stroking his cheek.

“You’re doing great, Mikey. Just keep doing that.” You whispered, heat pooling in your lower back as Michael continued his soft worship of your thighs. His lips trailed from your thigh to the edge of your panties, fingers reaching to move them before stopping. “Am I allowed to look…here?” His voice trailed off at the last word, his brain thinking of a much more vulgar word than “here.”

You stroked his hair gently, smirking slightly. “Look, or touch? You have to be specific baby.” You said, obviously teasing him. Michael’s face flushed looking away. “T-touch…I wanna touch you mama.” He breathed, tugging at the edge of the lace. You gently smiled, nodding your head, putting your hand over his, tugging your panties aside. Revealing your already wet slit to the cold air of the room.

Michael immediately went to press small kisses against your folds, making you gasp. Your fingers tangling in his curls as he went down on you. His lips latched around your clit, as one finger gently traced your entrance. One hand gripped your thigh as the other hand’s finger pressed into your warmth.

You writhed underneath Michael’s hold, your hands gripped his hair tighter, making him moan. His tongue continued lapping at your bundle of nerves. A mix of his own saliva and your slick running down his chin, while his finger massaged your velvety walls.

You moaned louder, your cunt dripping and throbbing under Michael’s mouth. Grinding your hips against his tongue as he ravished you. “R-right there sweet boy.” You whined, thighs clamping around his head.

Michael immediately looked up at you, eyes glazed over with confusion, his cheeks flushed and rosy. “Sweet…boy,” He whispered, breath heaving from his face and nose being buried in your cunt. “Me?” He added, resting his head against your thigh, your slick coating his lips in a clear sheen.

You giggled as Michael’s rosy cheeks, loosening your grip on his hair and caressing it. “Yes baby,” you started, tapping his nose gently. “The sweetest boy I’ve ever known.” Michael’s ears were flushed, looking so shy despite his face being in between your thighs. “I-I love you mama.” He breathed, burying his lips in your cunt once again.

You moan loudly when you felt his lips against your entrance again, rutting your hips against his mouth. Gripping the sheets of the bed, legs shuddering as your climax waves over you. Your walls spasming around his fingers. You look down at Michael, your hands now rubbing the pads of your fingers against his scalp. Your breath heavy from your climax. “I love you too, sweet boy.”

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

a/n: this is definitely shorter than I wanted it to be :(. idk how I’ve never done smut with off the wall mike before but there’s no time like the present (if it’s bad I sincerely apologize)

[brownsugarletters]

Best Birthday Ever

Michael Jackson x fem!reader

SYNOPSIS: It's reader's birthday and Michael has arranged for a week and a half of no interruptions. Plenty of time for him to explore every inch of you.

CONTENT: FILTHY smut, 18+, overstimulation, slight? breeding kink, g-spot stimulation, descriptions of female anatomy, descriptive dirty talk, NO MINORS, dangerous era!Michael, era 1990

Author's note: This is soooo idk I woke up in a mood girl, if you know what I mean. It's very vivid and descriptive so let me know if y'all like it 👀

The private island felt like another world. Free time was not something Michael Jackson got often.

He was constantly working—touring, rehearsing, recording. But if there was anything he always made time for, it was his girl. Michael absolutely adored you, and he would pluck the moon from the sky if you asked.

He didn’t celebrate holidays the way most people did, but your birthday had always been special to you. When he asked how you wanted to celebrate this year, your answer was immediate: a week and a half, uninterrupted, just the two of you.

Michael had cleared his schedule without hesitation. You chose the location. A secluded private island with white sand, turquoise water, and absolute peace. And that peace had wrapped around you both like a warm blanket.

You were tucked together under a shaded cabana, shielded from the bright afternoon sun. The gentle crash of waves mixed with the soft breeze and the low hum of music drifting from a nearby speaker.

Michael’s fingers were intertwined with yours, your hands resting on the soft cushion between you. He’d been insatiable since the moment you’d arrived. Needy, obsessed, unable to keep his hands off you for long.

The long night before had left you both exhausted; you’d slept through breakfast, grabbed a lazy late lunch, and come straight to the water. Now the late afternoon light painted everything golden.

His thumb brushed slowly over your knuckles in tender circles, a gentle rhythm that made your skin tingle. He leaned over, pressing a soft kiss to your temple, then another to the corner of your mouth. His lips lingered, warm and affectionate, before he pulled back just enough to look at you. His dark eyes were soft, almost pleading.

“Let’s go back to the room for a little while,” he murmured, voice low and sweet.

You side-eyed him, a knowing smile tugging at your lips. “Just a little while?” you asked, voice light with amusement. You both knew how that usually went.

Michael gave you those doe eyes, wide, innocent, and impossible to resist. His thumb kept stroking your knuckles as he leaned in again, kissing you properly this time: slow, deep, and full of promise. When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours. “I promise. Afterwards we’ll have dinner on the beach. I already arranged for the chef to make your favorite Indian food. No rush at all on getting there.”

You had a light buzz from the piña coladas you’d been sipping all afternoon, warm and pleasant in your veins. You felt good and relaxed, desired, a little bold. And the way Michael looked at you, like you were the only thing in his world, made heat curl low in your belly.

You let him pull you up. His arm wrapped around your waist as you walked back along the path to your private villa, his hand occasionally drifting to brush your hip or lower back with the same tender reverence.

The moment the door to your suite clicked shut behind you, Michael turned you in his arms. His hands slid over your sun-warmed skin, tracing the curves of your body with open worship.

“God, you’re so gorgeous,” he breathed, voice already husky. His palms smoothed down your sides, over your hips, then back up to cup your face. “Every inch of you… I can’t get enough. You have no idea what you do to me.”

He kissed you again, deeper this time, pressing you gently back toward the bed as his mouth moved hungrily against yours. When he finally pulled back just enough to speak, his forehead rested against yours, eyes dark with need.

“Please, baby,” he whispered, voice soft and begging. “Let me have you again. I promise I’ll make you feel so good. Just let me have you… one more time.”

His hands never stopped their tender exploration, thumbs brushing over your skin like he was memorizing you all over again. The long night before still lingered in both your bodies, but Michael’s hunger for you was far from satisfied. And from the way heat pooled between your thighs, you knew you weren’t going to deny him.

Two hours later, the room was heavy and warm and soft sounds of birds calling to each other and waves crashing drifted through the window. Music could be heard playing quietly from the beach, lulling the room into a state of serenity.

You were on your stomach with your hips lifted high, back deeply arched. Michael's thick cock sank into you with slow, deliberate strokes, dragging along every oversensitive inch of your walls and pushing out thick, pearly ropes of the cum he’d already pumped deep inside you earlier.

Saliva kept slipping from your parted lips, trailing down your chin as he dug deeper into your slick, gummy walls, your body trembling from how long he’d been taking you.

Michael’s hands glided from your hips to greedily knead your ass, fingers sinking deep as he spread you open. Your pulsing heat swallowed him whole with every thrust, the slick, velvety walls milking his cock like they never wanted to let go.

He couldn’t stop the broken whimpers and needy moans that spilled from his lips, his voice cracking with raw desperation as your fluttering grip hugged him so perfectly.

Each powerful collision made your whole body jolt. Your walls fluttered and clenched around his girth in helpless, exhausted pulses, raw and aching from how thoroughly he’d used you.

His lower abdomen was glistening from your combined cum. Every time he drew back, he gazed at the warm, creamy ring painted around the base of his shaft, like spilled ice cream on sun-warmed skin.

He was lost in the sight of how your body took him, eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he kept sinking into your wet heat over and over again. He loved the way you allowed him to paint such a filthy picture between your thighs.

He was totally overstimulated, but he couldn't stop. You were intoxicating to him. He tilted his head back as he drove back in with a low, whining groan. He brought his hand down, leaving a firm but gentle smack on your ass. You gasped from the sensation of the pain combined with pleasure.

“Talk to me, baby,” he coaxed, voice already rough. “Tell me how good it feels.”

You tried to answer, but the words came out broken and stuttering. “F-full… s-so deep”

He let out a soft, affectionate laugh. “Look at you… drooling all over the pillow because I’m making you feel so good. My sweet girl can’t even talk properly, huh?”

Pleasure came fast and sharp. Your walls started fluttering hard around him. Michael slid one hand down to gently massage slow circles into your lower back as your next orgasm crashed over you.

You came with a broken cry, legs shaking, walls pulsing rhythmically while you drooled into the pillow. Tears ran down your face from the intense sensation.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he praised, voice warm and loving. “Such a good girl. I’ve got you.”

The way you clenched around him pushed him over the edge too. Michael’s release hit hard. He was already sensitive from how many times you’d gone, his moans coming out broken and raspy, lips swollen as he gasped your name. “F-fuck—baby—ahh—” Thick pulses of cum flooded you while his hips jerked helplessly.

He stayed buried for a second, chest heaving, then pulled out slow. The moment his cock left you, a heavy rush of his load spilled out, running thick and warm down your folds. His spent length gave a visible twitch and started thickening again almost instantly at the sight.

He rolled you over onto your back with careful hands so he could see you fully. You felt limp and shy, completely overwhelmed, face hot and eyes glassy with unshed tears. He couldn't stop the slow smile that spread across his lips.

You looked beautiful, and perfectly ruined by him.

Suddenly you felt exposed under his gaze, you covered your face and giggled softly. You felt like you were floating.

"Don't hide from me, princess. Let me see that pretty face."

Michael cradled your face and leaned down to kiss you deeply. It was slow and messy, his tongue sliding against yours as he tasted the salt of your tears and the mess on your lips. You kissed him back weakly, still trembling.

When he pulled back, he looked down at you with soft, hungry eyes. He gently pushed apart your thighs, craving more of you. A chill involuntarily ran over your body as the cool air from the room hit your slick heat.

He cooed, “You look so pretty like this. Oh baby…”

He rocked his hips, dragging the thick head of his cock against you, the broad tip catching on your sensitive bundle of nerves and rubbing in slow, deliberate circles. Your body jolted hard from the hypersensitivity, hips twitching, a broken whimper escaping you. Michael cooed again, clearly loving every reaction.

You were breathless.

But your body was already arching toward him like flowers with sunlight, already aching to be filled again.

Michael lined himself up with your entrance, gently sinking back into your warm center one inch at a time. You couldn't help the desperate little sounds that escaped you, your mouth fell open and your eyebrows knitted together from the sensation of his cock slowly dragging along your hypersensitive walls.

Even after taking him for two hours, the stretch was intense. His thick cock forced your swollen walls apart inch by inch until he was buried deep. Moaning in unison with you, Michael gazed adoringly into your eyes.

"I love seeing you in this position, you're so pretty baby. Wanna watch you cum for me again". he gingerly brushed his lips against yours.

He started moving in slow, deep rolls. With every thrust, the warm, firm press of his pubic mound ground deliciously against your sensitive pearl while the thick head of his cock deliberately dragged over and ground into the soft, spongy spot inside you.

He knew exactly what he was doing. Every time he rolled his hips forward, the blunt head caught and rubbed firmly against that sensitive, ridged patch of tissue, pressing into it with steady, deliberate strokes.

"Feel how deep I’m hitting that spot, baby?” he rasped, voice low and filthy. “Right there… that soft, spongy little place that makes you lose it. I can feel it pulsing against the head of my cock every time I grind in. You love when I fuck you right there, don’t you?

The stimulation was intense and focused. Every deep roll made the head of his cock press and rub insistently against that spot, sending sharp, electric jolts straight through your core. Your lower belly tightened with every stroke. Your walls fluttered wildly around him as he kept targeting it, refusing to let up.

“Talk to me,” he coaxed again, hips rolling in that same deliberate rhythm. “Tell me how it feels when I rub that spot inside you. I know it’s making you crazy.”

You tried to answer but the words dissolved into incoherent babble. “S-so—ahh—right there—Michael—can’t—”

The pressure built fast and sharp. Your walls pulsed wildly around his girth. Your back arched as your second orgasm slammed into you.

It was brutal.

"Who else can make you feel this good, baby?" He gently brushed his thumb over your swollen lips. You tried to answer, but what came out was nonsensical. So you simply shook your head back and forth to answer him.

No one was the answer, and you knew it. The pressure in your core was building and you couldn't help it.

Michael kept grinding the head of his cock directly into that soft, spongy spot with every thrust, refusing to let up even as you started to come.

Your G-spot pulsed hard and rhythmic under the relentless pressure, sending white-hot pleasure exploding through your entire body. Your vision whited out. A high, sobbing cry ripped from your throat as your thighs clamped around his hips and you gushed around his cock in messy, uncontrollable waves. Hot spurts of slick splashed between your bodies while your walls clenched and fluttered desperately around him.

Michael moaned at the way you were coming apart. “That’s it… cum for me while I rub that perfect spot. Feel how I’m stroking it? Right there… fuck, you’re squeezing me so hard when I hit it like this.”

One hand slid under you to gently massage slow circles into your lower back as you came, grounding you through the overwhelming pleasure.

Even after the peak began to fade, he kept those deep, targeted rolls, the head of his cock still grinding into that sensitive spot through every aftershock. A smaller, third wave rolled through you, gentler but still making you gasp and clench hard around him as fresh tears slipped down your temples.

Michael leaned down and kissed you again. This time it turned into slow, deep making out. His tongue moved tenderly against yours while he stayed buried inside you, one hand still gently rubbing your lower back. He kissed you through the aftershocks, soft and hungry at the same time.

“Still with me, love?” he murmured against your mouth, voice raspy and full of affection. “You did so good… my perfect girl. I’ve got you.”

He kept kissing you — slow, deep, messy presses of his lips to yours — while he moved inside you in those gentle, relentless rolls, still occasionally grinding the head of his cock against that same sensitive spot just to feel you twitch and flutter around him.

“Love you so much, baby… such a sweet girl for me.”

A gentle breeze blew through the window as he stayed buried inside you, still kissing you like he never wanted to stop, still moving, still completely wrapped up in the way you trembled and fluttered around him.

He pulled you against his chest, wrapping you up in his arms while he stayed tucked inside you, unwilling to pull out just yet.

And from the way his cock twitched and thickened inside you again, you knew he wasn’t anywhere near finished.

"Mikey I'm gonna need my Indian food soon" you mumbled sleepily.

He dissolved into giggles, leaning in and pressing a lingering kiss to your swollen lips.

"You keep putting it on me like that, and you can have whatever you want baby".

You rolled your eyes and laughed lazily, pulling him on top of you.

"Best birthday ever."

[amnesia-sc]

positions | michael jackson

michael wants to try a new position with you and gets slightly carried away

tw/cw: thriller! era x f! reader, est. relationship, 18+ mdni, smut, oral (m! receiving), throat fucking, size kink? he can see himself through your throat, no use of y/n, use of “mama”

wc: 568

michael had you laid out on his bed, but he’d asked you to tilt your head over the edge of the mattress, your eyes tracking him carefully as he rounded the bed and settled himself right in front of your face. your eyes and mouth at level with hips when his thumbs hooked onto the edge of his boxers.

“what…”

“i wanna try something,” his voice was low. a small smile playing at the corners of his lips as he watched your eyes widen when he lowered his boxers, his cock slapping lightly against his naval and a damp spot from his tip glistening in the low light.

“you look so pretty like this. open up.” one of michael’s hands gripped his cock, pumping it a few times while the other cradled your throat. bending your head back as your lips parted for him, your tongue sticking out and taunting him.

his eyes flicked up as he got to fully take in your body, your soft skin wrapped up in his sheets, completely bare and flush for him. groaning as he slid into your mouth, watching as you took as much of him as you could.

teeth sinking into his bottom lip because he could feel himself through your throat from where his hand was resting against your neck.

when he started to fuck your mouth, your whimpers made him briefly shut his eyes. your saliva gathering as you choked on his length. your hands coming up to hold onto his hips and your nails dug crescents into his skin.

“that’s it baby, taking me so well.” he praised, his words being rasped by a moan. his hands reaching out to massage your breasts and the moment his fingers left your throat, he saw it.

his cock dragging in and out of you— your throat constricting around him as he went deeper and you gagged. your thighs rubbing together as you desperately sought out your own relief.

“fuck, mama.” he threw his head back, his pace growing erratic and he knew he was probably going a little too hard but his mind was so wrapped up in how you felt and looked, he didn’t pay your comfort much mind like he usually did.

and when you moaned around his cock, he lost it. tipping over the edge of oblivion as his hips rolled into you. one hand holding your throat while the other dug into his sheets, moaning your name as he came. delighting in the way he could not only feel but see you swallowing his release.

a pathetic sound leaving him when he pulled out, seeing sticky strings of his cum and saliva stretch and break from your tongue and lips.

michael was panting as he fell into the bed beside you, rolling his head to the side to kiss your thigh. “we’re definitely doing that again.”

you laughed, wiping tears from your eyes given the position and how he had practically been suffocating you— absolutely no complaints on your behalf.

“how about you let me catch my breath first?” you teased, watching him as he lifted himself up on an elbow. a contemplative look to him as he hummed.

“i’ll leave your mouth alone for now, but no promises on you being able to breathe.”

your brows furrowed. but before you could even think to ask him to elaborate, michael was lowering his head between your thighs.

michael jackson masterlist

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

a/n: this is so short im sorry!! but i know i haven’t posted— also this is so tmi but i’ve given head in this position before and 10/10 recommend