summary: you know those guys your age aren’t good for you.
content: (MDNI), smut, age gap, power imbalance/dbf, loss of virginity/inexperienced reader, religious themes, emotional vulnerability, possession, soft!dom michael, sub!reader, praise, consent checks, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it !)
w/c: 4.7k
a/n: just a little something to ease yesterday's pain. i'll do jackie for you guys in the next one.
based on this poll. | masterlist.
The key stuck in the lock, jamming for a heart-stopping second before finally turning.
You shoved the door open with your shoulder, your whole body heavy with exhaustion, the ‘lame-man-fatigue’ as you would call it.
The lame-man-fatigue that came from pretending to have a good time when you very, very much weren't.
Your apartment greeted you with the faint, lingering smell of last night's microwave popcorn and the sterile chill of air conditioning.
Home.
You dropped your bag by the door, the sound unnaturally loud in the quiet. The date had been a shit show. Daryl — or whatever the fuck his name was — with his overly firm handshake and his insistence that you 'just hadn't given indie men a real chance.'
What kind of bullshit. That sentence alone pissed you off.
You padded into the living area, your eyes automatically drifting to the one nice thing in the room: the large, framed poster of the BAD album cover your dad had given you. Michael's face, frozen in a moment of defiant cool, watched you slump onto the couch. His face a stark contrast to your tired features. God what a night this was. One of the fifty million pointless dates from lonely dating apps. It was exhausting.
After a few coincidental minutes, a soft knock at the door made you jump. You weren't expecting anyone, and you prayed it wasn’t your date following you home, again. You dreaded the thought of calling the police for the third time this month.
Peering through the peephole, your breath hitched. Standing in the dim hallway light was Michael himself, looking oddly casual in a dark button-down and slacks, his hands tucked into his pockets.
You unlocked the door, pulling it open. "Michael? What are you doing here?"
He offered a small, almost shy smile. "Your dad mentioned you had a date tonight." He gestured vaguely. "I was in the neighborhood. Thought I'd check in."
In the neighborhood. Your apartment was decidedly not in any neighborhood Michael would ever just 'be in'. But you stepped aside, letting him in anyway. His presence immediately changed the energy of the small space, making it feel both smaller and more significant.
He stepped inside, his gaze sweeping the room with a practiced eye before landing on you. His smile faded into a look of gentle concern. "You okay? You look tired."
Tired wasn’t even the word for it. Defeated, sure. Mortified, absolutely.
"I’m fine. The date was fine," you mumbled, retreating to the safety of the couch.
He didn't push, just closed the door softly behind him. "Can I get you something? Water?"
"Wine. But it’s okay, I can get it. Just… I dunno. Make yourself comfortable."
The words came out more brittle than you intended. You pushed yourself off the couch, heading for the kitchen to give your hands something to do. You didn’t know his true intention of being here, but you were too tired to ask.
He nodded, moving to the couch but not sitting. Instead, he picked up the discarded Thai food menu from the floor. "You eat?"
You pulled a wine glass from the cupboard, the clink of glass the only sound for a moment. "Not really. Lost my appetite."
He set the menu down, his voice was low, a bit humored. "That bad, huh? How many does that make?"
You sigh, grabbing another glass and pouring the wine in both of them, a common curtesy for him being in your company once again. The deep red sloshed into the glasses, your reflection wobbling in the dark surface. Part of you felt ashamed. How could you even tell him? How could you admit that yet another guy made you feel invisible? Inferior? So fucking stupid for allowing him to waste your time?
The silence stretched, thick and uncomfortable. You carried the two glasses back to the living area, the wine threatening to spill over the rims with your unsteady steps. You handed one to Michael, your fingers brushing against his. A tiny, electric shock of contact. He took the glass, his eyes never leaving your face. "Thank you."
You took a large gulp of your own wine, the bitterness a welcome distraction from the lump forming in your throat. You collapsed onto the couch, putting a cushion's worth of distance between you.
He finally sat down, the fabric sighing under his weight. He took a slow, deliberate sip. "You don't have to talk about it."
"It’s not that," you hesitate, your breath hitching as you try to find the right words to describe your emotions. "I just.. I’m just so tired." The words felt like a confession, heavy and true in the quiet room. Tired didn't even begin to cover it. It was a soul-deep weariness from trying to fit into a mold that never felt right.
You half scoff, half chuckle at your own disbelief, "They are just so fucking stupid." The words hung in the air, sharp and final. It felt good to say it, to give a name to the frustrating, hollow feeling in your chest. And the floodgates opened. All the pent-up frustration from the night, from months of bad dates, came pouring out. You gestured wildly with your glass, the wine sloshing precariously.
They're all the same.
They talk at you, not to you.
They're obsessed with being perceived as deep, but they have the emotional capacity of a teaspoon.
And he listened, his expression unreadable. He took another slow sip of wine, his eyes never leaving you as you vented about your love life struggles.
You ranted about Daryl’s conspiracy theories about the music industry, about how he'd tried to explain Michael's own album concepts to you as if you were a child. The irony was almost painful.
A part of Michael felt relieved that he was no longer your age, along with the challenges that came with dating. However, another part of him was astounded by the way men treated women these days. There was no chivalry, no love, no respect, and no desire to court a woman. It was almost pathetic to him.
He set his glass down on the coffee table with a quiet, definitive click. "They don't know how to respect women." His voice was low, but it carried a new weight, a sharp edge that hadn't been there before, laced with platitude and judgement.
He leaned forward slightly, his elbows resting on his knees. "They don't understand the aspect of making you feel... cherished. It’s a sense of entitlement." His words sounded nothing short of intimate and old-fashioned, and while you would’ve made fun of him for it in any other moment, your words died in your throat.
His gaze was intense as it searched your face, and you try to blame the wine for your breathlessness. "It's not you, you know. It's them. They're boys."
"You need a man."
You pause.
"What?"
He didn't look away, his dark eyes squinting for a moment. "You ain’t hear what I said? You need a real man. Someone who knows what he wants and," he stammers a bit. "and knows how to treat you right."
Oh, he was dead serious.
The air in your small apartment felt thin, charged with an electricity you’d never felt with him before. He leaned back slightly, breaking the tension for just a moment, but his eyes never lost their focus. "They don't see you. Not really."
"And you do?" You speculate, this felt all too real for you. The red wine felt heavy in your stomach, the room tilting on its axis.
"Well, yeah," he scoffs, like it was a silly question to ask. His gaze swept over you, taking in the way you were curled into the corner of the couch, the frustrated set of your shoulders. "You're smart. Y'got a good head on your shoulders. More than any of those lil boys could ever hope to have."
He shook his head slowly, a sad, almost pitying look on his face. "And you're... breathtakingly beautiful. You gotta know that."
"Michael — I don’t understand —"
He turns his head towards you, slightly closing the distance between you. "I think you do understand." His voice was low and soft. "You're too smart not to."
Your mind was racing, a frantic scramble to make sense of the shift in the air. Your dad’s best friend, the same famous man that still took the time to spend time with you when you were in college. Your father would kill you if he found out.
A cold dread mixed with a hot, sharp thrill coiled in your stomach. You thought of all the times he’d been there, a constant, quiet presence in your life. The hugs that lasted a second too long. The way his hand would sometimes linger around your waist.
The silence was deafening. His words hung in the air, a challenge and an invitation all at once. Your mind was a whirlwind of confusion and a terrifying, undeniable pull. He watched the internal conflict play out across your face, his expression softening from intense to something more patient, more understanding.
"You’re scared."
"I’m not.." You shake your head, your gaze flickering to the empty glass in your lap with a soft sigh. The denial was weak, even to your own ears. Your fingers tightened around the stem of the empty wine glass, a flimsy anchor in the sudden, swirling intensity of the moment.
He reached out, his movements slow and deliberate, and gently took the glass from your hands, setting it aside on the table. "S’okay to be scared. This is a…” he exhales. “a lot to process."
His hand returned to yours. The air felt thick, heavy with unspoken desire and the weight of crossing a line that could never be uncrossed. He didn't pull his hand back completely. Instead, he let his fingertips trail softly over the back of your hand. "I, uh, I watched you for a long time, y’know… become this incredible woman,"
His thumb stroked a slow, hypnotic pattern on your skin. "I wanted to wait a lil longer, 'cause I have waited. Out of respect f'your father." A faint, almost sad smile touched his lips. "But as much as you're tired of boys not seeing your worth, it's gettin' to me too."
The confession was staggering, and you know it wasn't a sudden impulse he felt from the confines of your cozy living room, because it didn't sound like it. It was a years-long, simmering yet quiet desire that he was finally letting boil over.
"Now, you've been awful quiet." He laughs softly, gazing down at where your hands connected. His glasses fell slightly on his nose. "I just wanna know what you're thinkin'. If this isn't what you want..."
"I do, Michael.. I'm just tryna... process it all."
You weren't necessarily lying. It was true. You would be absolutely stupid to say no to Michael, especially with your attraction to him in mind. The attraction you thought you'd have to bury away for the rest of your life because it never crossed your mind that this would be possible.
His soft laugh was a vibration you felt more than heard; it settled deep in your bones. He gently lifted your chin with his fingertips, forcing your gaze to meet his. "Then stop processing. Just feel." He leaned in slowly, giving you every opportunity to pull away. The first brush of his lips against yours was achingly soft. Nothing like the rushed, sloppy, nasty kisses you'd experienced before. His lips were reverent against yours.
But when you didn't pull away from him, he deepened the kiss, his hand moving from your chin to cup the side of your face. His other hand found your waist, pulling you gently closer until you were flush against him. The sheer size of him, compared to yours, was a dizzying revelation to you.
The kiss was a slow and deep exploration. His lips moved against yours with a practiced patience that stole the breath from your lungs. It wasn't like anything you imagined from him — it was so much better, the intensity and realness giving you goosebumps alone. The way his hand cradled the back of your head, his fingers tangling gently in your pressed hair, it was too much.
His lips trailed down from your mouth, a slow, deliberate path of soft kisses along your jawline. He took his time, as if memorizing the feel of your skin. His mouth found the sensitive hollow of your throat, his kiss there lingering, warm and damp against your cool skin. "You're so soft."
A shiver ran down your spine as he nuzzled into the curve of your neck, his nose brushing against your pulse point.
He pressed a soft and open-mouthed kiss to the spot just below your ear, his voice a low murmur against your skin. "That feel good?"
A breathy sigh was your only answer. Your hands, which had been clenched at your sides, slowly came up to rest tentatively on his shoulders, and he hummed in approval, the sound vibrating through you.
"Good, that's it. Just relax for me, sweetheart."
His lips continued, alternating between soft kisses and sucking nibbles that made your head spin. The contrast between the gentle exploration of his mouth and the solid strength of his body pinning you gently to the couch was intoxicating.
He pulled back just enough to look at you. His dark eyes searched your face, his glasses crooked on his.
"You're trembling a little, you okay?" His thumb stroked your cheek, and his question hung in the air. You could only manage a weak nod before mustering up the small yet revealing words from your throat.
"Y-Yeah, it's just — I... I haven't done this before. 'm so sorry.."
You watched his face, waiting for the shift, the judgment, the disappointment you were always fearful of.
His thumb stilled on your cheek, and for a long moment, he was perfectly still, his expression unreadable. "Haven't done... this?"
His voice was quiet and carefully neutral, which you hated. He wasn't pulling away, but the intensity in his eyes had shifted from desire to something more contemplative. He searched your eyes, which were angled down to the purity ring that still sat on your finger.
"I haven't really been with anyone, Mike. Not like that."
The directness of the answer sent a fresh wave of heat to your face; you couldn't help but feel ashamed. Not about the fact that you were raised in such a religious way, where you were practically forbidden to hold hands with a man until you were of age, let alone kiss one. Your father made that very clear from the moment he forced the purity ring onto your dainty little finger.
And from the guys you've been around, evidently, they proved that they weren't worth "corruption" — as your father would call it — so you didn't bother giving in. No matter how much your dates tried to push for it.
That didn't mean you didn't explore in your alone time. The box of toys underneath your queen-sized mattress was proof of that.
But it was about the idea of being judged. Since you were a freshman in college, you were ironically made fun of for still wearing the worn-down, busted-up purity ring your daddy got you on your 16th birthday. Shamed for being the only virgin in the group, insecure for being the only one who had no fun sex stories to share throughout undergrad.
They made you feel like a child, something fragile, like you couldn't understand the fundamentals of lovemaking.
But you don't see that with Michael.
Michael gently tilted your chin back up, forcing your eyes to meet his. There was no mockery in his expression, only the familiar softness you've grown fond of. "Hey, look at me."
His voice was a low, soothing murmur, a tear you didn't realize you were holding back escaped and traced a path down your cheek. And he caught the tear with his thumb, his touch impossibly gentle. "There's nothin' to be sorry for. I was the same way when I was your age. Don't let anyone tear down your faith."
The reassurance was so immediate, the endearment a caress as he pressed a small kiss on your forehead. "You sure you want to do this? With me?"
You let out a meek nod, his fingers tucking messy strands behind your ear.
"I need words, sweetheart."
"Yes, Michael. 'Want it to be you. No one else."
A genuine smile spread across his face, his features impossibly tender, his voice a soft promise as he leaned in again. But this time, the kiss was different, still gentle, but now with underlying possession.
He broke the kiss, and his hand slid from your back, fingertips tracing a slow, deliberate path up your side, just brushing the curve of your breast. "Is this too much?"
A jolt of pure electricity shot through you at the unfamiliar yet comforting touch. Your eyes were half-lidded and fixed on his. "N-no. Feels good..." You shake your head.
His eyes darkened, his other hand stroking your hip with his thumb. "Or this?" His hand slid lower, palm flat against your thigh, applying a small, firm pressure. You swallowed hard, shaking your head again. The sheer size of his hand, the confidence in his touch, was overwhelming yet not enough simultaneously.
Nothing had ever felt like this, especially by yourself. A soft sound escaped you, and your body slightly into his touch, a silent plea for more. His gaze on you was intense, watching every tiny reaction that flickered across your face as he studied you.
He had to; he couldn't allow anyone else to learn you the same way he did. He wanted to take the time to learn exactly what made you feel good and what didn't.
And one thing he did take note of was how expressive you were.
Every sigh, every twitch under his touch, he's never seen anything like it. You were so open when you responded to him — so honest. A pure, unfiltered reaction, and it was all for him. Only for him to see.
His fingertips continued slowly upwards, skating along the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. The touch was feather light, but he could feel the heat radiating off your skin. It was furnace-like, sending waves of anticipation through you.
"Wanna know what you're feeling. Could you tell me?"
You took a shaky breath as your mind went blank for a second, your focus only narrowing to the point where his hand rested too close to where you needed him most.
"Hot."
His lips curved into a soft smile, and his gaze was stuck on your beautiful face.
His hand shifted higher, his fingers applying a slightly firmer pressure against the seam of your jeans, moving in slow and deliberate circles against your clothed pussy. "And now?"
A sharp gasp caught in your throat. Your hips jerked involuntarily against his hand, a purely instinctive response. And before you had the room to feel embarrassed, his voice was low and approving, whispering sweet praises in your ear.
"...I want more."
"Say what?"
"I.. I want more, please."
You guided his hand from the seam of your jeans, towards the button, pleading for him to move further. You were practically aching for his touch, his sensation turning from unfamiliarity to unadulterated lust and sexual desire. His touch was a revelation. All the shame, the insecurity you'd carried for years, began to melt under the heat of his presence and the certainty of his touch.
His breath hitched at your plea, his eyes dark pools of the shared desire, searching your eyes for any kind of hesitation. When he found none, only desperation, his slender fingers deftly worked the button of your jeans. The pop of it opening sounded impossibly loud.
The zipper slid down with a soft, metallic whisper. His hand slid inside, his palm warm and firm against the thin fabric of your panties, feeling the wet spot against your lips.
"You're so wet... barely touched you."
The pressure of his middle finger was sure as he moved your underwear to the side, his cool skin tracing soft circles against your clit. Cooing softly as your head falls back. Every nerve in your body was alight and hyper-focused on the rhythm of his fingers. It was overwhelming, but in the best way possible. It was like you finally understood the language you had ever heard in hushed whispers from the women around you.
It was almost embarrassing how his soft praises washed over you —mingling with the increasing speed of his fingers — built your orgasm. And he could tell from another soft moan that escaped your lips as you relaxed against the couch. Your fingers tightened their grip on his shoulders, anchoring yourself as your orgasm threatened to overwhelm you.
He then pulls his hand back slowly, his touch retreating, the sudden absence becoming a physical ache. And your eyes fly open, a desperate sigh leaving your lips as you meet his unwavering gaze.
"Mike," you whine, "Why'd you stop?"
He leans in, his lips meeting yours in a soft kiss. "Relax, girl, 'want you to cum on my tongue first."
The words shoot directly into your ears, and they send a fresh wave of desire through you. He cups your cheek, thumb stroking your skin. "Is that something that you'd want?"
You nod eagerly, and he stands from the couch. His movements were fluid as he offered you his hand, and you took it. Your heart grew loud in your ears, anticipation sending shock waves through you.
The bedroom door is ajar, and he pushes it open, his gaze sweeping through the room before landing on your bed. The cozy, warm space suddenly feels sacred in his presence.
He stops just inside the doorway, turning to face you. He brings your hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles.
"Lie down for me."
His voice is a low command, softened by the reverence in his eyes. You moved to the bed on unsteady legs, settling against the duvet. He follows you, kneeling on the floor at the edge of your bed. The position was startingly intimate, submissive even, but he didn't have a care in the world how he looked. Especially when his focus was solely on your pleasure.
You lift your hips slightly as he pulls off your jeans, leaving you in your tank top and your thin panties, so soaked that they're practically transparent. The cool air hit your bare skin as he tossed the jeans aside. His hands slide up your calves, to your thighs, then hook his fingers in the waistband of your panties.
His gaze lifts to meet yours, a silent question, and you give a slight nod.
He pulls them down, his sharp exhale tickling your sensitive clit as he sees you. So pretty and so exposed. He was the first to see you. And he'd be the first to take you. The first to ruin you so sweetly.
He leans forward, his face inches from you as his warm breath ghosts over your most sensitive skin. "So beautiful, sweetheart."
He doesn't rush. His lips press soft, open-mouthed kisses to your inner thigh, his barely noticeable stubble a rough, thrilling contrast to the softness of his mouth. His hands spread your thighs wider as he gets closer, then his tongue darts out, a quick, experimental action that makes you jolt. Then his mouth is on you, his tongue flat on your clit, laving slow strokes that make your back arch.
He hums at the taste of you, so clean, so sweet, and it was all for him to devour. His hands slide under your hips, lifting you slightly to get a better angle, and his tongue finds a rhythm. Circling your clit then moving downwards to push his tongue against your entrance, grinding his nose against your sensitive bud in the meantime.
You can barely hear the words coming out of his mouth, and he doesn't put in any effort to pull away from your pussy. You could only manage choked sobs and high-pitched moans as the vibrations of his praises shot through you. Your fingers tangle in his hair as his tongue grows relentless. Worshipful. It became a sensation you were only just beginning to get used to, but he was anything but patient. His mouth worked you over in building intensity, his groans of approval sending your orgasm over like a freight train.
Your hips buck against his face, but his hands hold you steady. Strong and firm, allowing no escape from his mouth.
"Fuckfuckfuck — Mike, slow down, I-I'm gonna —"
He focuses his attention, his tongue flicking rapidly against your clit. "Come on, baby. I can feel you shaking. Give in to me."
The world dissolves into pure sensation. A broken cry is torn from your throat as your orgasm crashes over you, violent and overwhelming. Small whimpers flow from your lips at the sensitivity of him tonguing you through your orgasm.
He finally lifts his head, his lips glistening, his breathing ragged. His glasses were long discarded as he kissed your inner thighs softly. He rose from his knees, his movements fluid and deliberate, and joined you on the bed.
He loomed over you, his larger frame caging you gently against the mattress. The scent of your arousal and his cologne mingled in the air. His thumb brushed a stray tear from your cheek, and his gaze was soft as the hard line of his bulge pressed against your thigh. He leaned down, kissing you claimingly, possessively, his hand anchoring himself beside your head while his other worked at the fastening of his own pants.
He didn't have to be fully exposed to see the sheer size of him. The sound of his zipper was loud in the quiet room. He shifted, then you felt him, heavy against your thigh. He pressed his tip, achingly hot against your entrance.
"Look at me."
You obeyed, your gaze trapped in his. The first push inside you was an immense pressure that stretched you wide, making you gasp.
"Breathe, sweetheart. Just breathe for me. I'll go slow."
You took in a shaky breath, and he pushed forward again, slowly, inexorably filling you. The sensation was overwhelming — a fullness you'd never known, coupled with a sharp, fleeting sting. His body trembled with a low groan, evidently showing the effort of his restraint before sinking into you completely.
And for a moment, he stilled, the initial discomfort you felt began to fade, replaced by a throbbing ache of pleasure. Your shaky gasps transformed into breathy moans as you clawed at his shoulder. He began to move, a slow, rocking rhythm. The pace was patient, and his eyes never left yours, reading every flicker of emotion on your face.
He grabbed your face gently, lifting you up slightly into a deep kiss, muffling your shared moans, and the feeling built again. but different than before. His dick kissed your sweet spots so tenderly, and your hips began to move tentatively with his, meeting his slow thrusts.
The rhythm found its own pace, a building cadence that had the world narrowing to the feeling of him inside of you. His breath was ragged as he moaned against your ear, loud and unshameful. You could tell his control began to fray, his hand sliding between you to rub firm circles against your clit, matching the pace of his thrusts.
"F — Shit, sweetheart, I can't... you're so warm around me... Gonna make me cum —"
His confession sent a thrill through you. You arched into him, a silent plea for more as you felt your second orgasm shoot waves through you. With a final, deep thrust, he buried himself inside you, his body tensing as his release washed over him. His breath was harsh in your ear, his heart hammering against your chest.
He shifted slightly, propping himself up on his elbows to look down at you, his expression soft and searching. "Are you okay? I didn't hurt you, did I?" You immediately shake your head, pulling him back down as you wrap your arms around his neck in the comfortable silence.
And it was like that for a while. Before you feel him inhale softly in your ear.
"Nobody else gets to see you like this. Ever. You understand?"
I’m going to say this once and never again. If you don’t agree with me, you’re more than welcome to unfollow and block me. I’m also not a chicken and will be tagging exactly who I’m talking about because this is honestly ridiculous.
I’m going to preface this by saying this isn’t to cause drama or get likes. My account is garnering plenty of engagement from my writing and my personal posts already. This is merely for educational purposes and to shed light on an issue that’s infested the internet for years. This is also NOT just about the MJ fandom but I’m using it as an example because it’s happened here. Again, if you don’t agree with me, unfollow or block me!
I recently followed an account under the impression that they were a black owned blog. Their layout, use of AAVE and black oriented reaction pictures made me believe that I found another black writer to support. But I learned that the owner is a white women.
I want to follow more black writers here to uplift them in a space that is heavily biased against black fans. Situations surrounding belittling black writers in the MJ community have been rampant for a while now so I take it upon myself to support and follow fellow black writers who represent me and many black MJ fans who have felt underrepresented in the fandom.
Back to the issue. Finding out that this account is a white woman behind the scenes upset me quite a bit. I genuinely believed she was one of us and was combating the racial problem within the fandom. That being said, I’d like to point out why this is more than just a ‘I feel scammed’ situation and more about digital dishonesty.
Digital blackface is a massive issues in online communities across the internet. It’s a conversation that has been ongoing for years now, even before I was on the internet. Many people outside of the black diaspora have downplayed it as a problem, stating that free speech shouldn’t be considered black fishing or harmful towards black communities. However, I would like to point out that Digital Blackface is more than just using ‘black media’ to express yourself, it directly impacts how the world views black peoples as a whole.
Accounts on Tumblr and other platforms have popped up pretending to be black people since conception of social media. They use Ebonics and black reaction pictures/gifs as a means of communication which often time leads to real black-owned accounts believing that they are interacting with black people. In hindsight, one would merely say “well it’s not their fault you thought they were black,” and that is exactly the problem.
As I said before, I follow black blogs to uplift my people. The internet is riddled with racism directly impacting black communities. We get called the hard r, monkeys, ghetto, nasty, undesirable etc and platforms don’t bat an eye. Racism towards us is so normalised that it’s bled into every internet fandom. So you see why black people online gravitate towards each other? Because we want a safe space for ourselves. We want to appreciate each other, dote on each other, love, respect and support each other’s art.
How do black folk know that an account is black owned? We use Ebonics, black media and black phrases that only we would know. So you can imagine how disheartening it is to find out that an account using such media would be a white woman behind it.
Nonblack POC or white person reading this might not understand the gravity of this situation but I implore you to read up on it and take time to fully understand why it’s upsetting.
Terms like ‘the saxophones are getting louder” “goofy ahh” “I’m crine” “unc” “Deadass” are AAVE/Ebonics. Finding them on TikTok and incorporating them into your online vocabulary when you’re not apart of that community is a form of digital blackface and cultural appropriation. It’s not Gen Z slang or TikTok slang and it’s not a funny audio just for vibes. It’s BLSCK AMERICAN language.
I’m not BA and I do use Ebonics here and there but I avoid incorporating it into my speech when I don’t understand how to use it properly. And I don’t use much of it because, again, I’m NOT black American. Black Americans have been kind enough to even let black people outside of the United States use their language and I don’t even want them to think that I’m being irresponsible with that privilege.
Now in regards to this situation. I don’t want to hear things like “Michael was for everyone.” Although that was true, you would be really stupid to believe that Michael didn’t understand that black people were/are the most marginalised and racially abused people on the planet. This man grew up in undoubtedly the most racially divided time in USA history. He even spoke out about the industry steals from “especially black artists”. He was aware that black art is abused for white financial and political gain. Black media (whether it be music or simply reaction photos) is art.
So why position yourself in a way that make you appear to us as a black woman @michaelmuse ? Your entire aesthetic is based in a way that draws in a black audience. You use black faces as reaction pics and Ebonics but you draw the line at reblogging black fanfics when you know that this site favours reblogs over comments and likes.
Your previous username (ebonymuse) in itself is indicative of the issue I’m discussing here. ‘Ebony’ is a term primarily used to describe black people. Urban dictionary defines it as “the essence of dark skin that is enriched and plentiful with melanin. greatness. beauty”. It’s even a common term used to define a porn category for to black people. Now the term itself is constantly being critiqued for bordering on being a fetish term, however, you see how it’s for black people? Dark skin people to be exact?
So why is a white woman with white ass skin using that term in their username? I’m a black woman with albinism and even I wouldn’t use that term. Why? Because it isn’t not for my pasty self.
I’ve read some of your fics and this has nothing to do with me wanting diversity or inclusion from you, nor is it to hate on your work. You do use Ebonics in your work so I’m sure you knew that your fics would attract black readers to your blog. Your behaviour (whether you did it intentionally or not) was deceptive and potentially harmful to my community. You need to educate yourself on the contents of this conversation to fully understand how bad this situation actually is. There’s no way you’ve been on the internet and didn’t know that black Americans have been begging nonblack (especially white) folk to stop using their media as your own or as ‘a silly tend’ or to be relatable.
I’ve seen a few black British blogs come to your defence and I’m bewildered to see them pandering for a white woman about something that affects black people as a whole. I myself am not Black American but I will stand by them when their culture and language is diluted and turned into a ‘trend’ for everyone else to steal and appropriate. It’s wrong and it impacts us all. White people (even other POC) don’t separate us. They see one fake black account say stupid things and assume that’s how all of us feel/act. I understand that the UK is differently set up but your low racial self esteem is affecting us all. You let white Brits walk all over you and your culture and you just laugh along like it’s funny. This is why racism there will never end. You let white footballer wear braids, let white folk use AAVE and flat out call your Afros messy and you think it’s not that serious. Stand up. Immediately.
You guys really need to do better. Stop misconstruing Michael’s words to get away with disrespecting black people. You’re becoming just as bad as those who racially attacked him.
──── 𓏲 ࣪ ˖ one-shot (requested). smut & angst. pairing : michael jackson x reader. thradera!!michael. friends to lovers (friends with benefits too). toxic relationships. angst. manipulative mike. smut. michael is very possesive and jealous. angry sex. little fluff at the end. a/n : tried writing a darker michael because i need to see him being possessive and manipulative so bad omfg. ᝰ.ᐟ꩜ michael just can't stand seeing you getting back with your toxic ex boyfriend, cause after all, you're his aren't you ?
it always started with the same quiet knock on his front door past midnight, the kind of sound only someone who knew the exact rhythm of his house would make. michael never had to ask who it was. he’d just lay there on his back for a fraction of a second, staring at the ceiling of his bedroom, listening to the heavy silence of havenhurst before sliding out of bed. when he opened the door, she was always standing there. sometimes she was crying, sometimes she just looked completely drained, her makeup a little smudged under her eyes, holding her jacket tight around her shoulders like a shield against the world outside. and every single time, without a word, michael would just step aside, opening the door wider to let her melt into his warmth.
they had been a fixture in each other's lives for as long as anyone could remember. it was the kind of closeness that defied simple labels. to the rest of the world, they were just best friends—the girl who could make the notoriously shy pop star laugh until his chest ached, the one person who saw past the stage lights and the intense pressure of his career. she knew how he took his tea, she knew the exact look in his eyes when he was overwhelmed by a crowd, and she knew how to ground him when his own thoughts became too loud. they spent hours sitting on the floor of his home studio, her listening to him hum unfinished melodies, their legs tangled together under a blanket without either of them thinking twice about it.
but there was a hidden, unspoken side to this friendship, a blurry line they both crossed whenever the world became too heavy. it wasn't a relationship, at least not officially. it was a mutual understanding, an unspoken pact born out of absolute trust and a deep, simmering physical attraction that neither of them could quite suppress. it would happen naturally—a lingering gaze over the rim of a glass, his hand resting on her waist just a second too long while they walked through the gardens, or the way his voice would drop an octave, becoming soft and velvety when they were alone in the dark. and then, it would lead to quiet, breathless nights in his oversized bed, nights filled with gentle touches, whispered secrets, and a fierce intensity that felt a lot more like love than either of them dared to admit.
the problem was the ghost that always hovered between them: her ex. a guy who knew exactly how to pull her back in just when she was finally starting to breathe. their relationship was a vicious, exhausting cycle of screaming matches, tearful breakups, and toxic reconciliations. every time he pushed her away or made her feel small, she ran straight to michael. michael was her safe harbor, the one who rebuilt her piece by piece, holding her through the night while she cried over another man’s cruelty. michael hated him. he absolutely despised the way that guy treated her, the way he dimmed her light. but as long as she kept going back, michael kept his mouth shut, playing the role of the devoted best friend who was just happy to have her in his arms for a little while, hiding the dark, possessive spark that was slowly beginning to ignite deep within his chest every time he had to let her go again.
very long time, the toxic shadow of her ex seemed to completely vanish from the picture. the final breakup had been messy, filled with the usual slammed doors and late-night tears, but weeks turned into months, and she hadn't gone back. michael watched her slowly heal, watching the heavy tension leave her shoulders and the bright, genuine laughter return to her voice. they were spending more time together than ever, their days blurring into a comfortable, domestic routine that felt dangerously like a real relationship. they cooked late-night meals together in his kitchen, watched old movies until the sun started to rise, and shared quiet, comfortable silences that didn't need to be filled with words.
but while she was finding her footing and celebrating her newfound freedom, something inside michael was shifting, growing into something far more intense and consuming. before, when she was constantly running back and forth, he had managed to keep his feelings locked away in a dark corner of his mind, convincing himself that being her safe harbor was enough. but now, having her all to himself for months without the constant threat of that other guy changed everything. the casual, no-strings-attached nature of their physical moments started to feel like a beautiful torture to him. every time he held her in his arms after they crossed that line, listening to her soft breathing against his chest, a fierce, protective warmth would wash over him, quickly followed by a desperate, aching hunger.
he found himself memorizing the exact way her eyes crinkled when she smiled at him, the scent of her perfume lingering on his pillows long after she left, and the soft, breathless sound of his name slipping from her lips in the dark. it wasn't just attraction anymore; it was an all-consuming need. michael was falling for her, hard and fast, and the realization terrified him just as much as it intoxicated him. he didn't want to just be the best friend she turned to when she was lonely or healing. he wanted to be the only one who got to touch her, the only one who got to love her. every time she brushed her fingers against his arm or leaned her head on his shoulder, his heart would hammer violently against his ribs, his thoughts spiraling into a deep, possessive territory he had never experienced before. she was finally free, and in michael's mind, she was finally, truly becoming his.
it was a quiet, rainy tuesday afternoon when they found themselves tangled up on her living room couch, the soft hum of the rain hitting the windowpanes providing a steady backdrop to their comfortable silence. a half-empty mug of tea was cooling on the coffee table, and she was leaning back against his chest, her hair brushing against his chin while michael lazily traced gentle, random patterns on her bare forearm with his fingertips. everything felt completely peaceful, the kind of safe, insulated bubble they always managed to create whenever they were alone together.
but the peacefulness shattered the moment she took a deep breath, her body turning slightly in his embrace so she could look up at him. she started talking, her voice low and hesitant at first, but then the words just began to pour out of her like a dam breaking. she needed to vent, to finally empty her mind of the lingering weight she had been carrying around. she started talking about her ex, looking back on the relationship with a mix of confusion and exhaustion. she confessed to michael how hard it had been to completely untangle herself from him, how she still sometimes felt the ghost of his toxic words in the back of her head, and how weird it felt to finally be completely done with that chaotic chapter of her life.
"i just... i don't know, mike," she whispered, her voice cracking slightly as she stared down at her own hands, nervously tangling her fingers together. "some days i feel completely fine, like he's just a bad dream. but then other days, i catch myself wondering why i let him treat me like that for so long. it’s like he still has this tiny, stupid hold on my mind, and i hate it. i just wanted to completely erase him."
michael swallowed hard, his chest tightening as he forced himself to stay still. he reached out, his long, slender fingers gently catching her chin to tilt her face up so she had to look at him. his dark eyes were intense, burning with an emotion she couldn't quite read in the dim light of the room.
"then let him go," michael murmured, his voice incredibly soft, almost a hypnotic purr, though his thumb pressed just a fraction too firmly against her jawline. "he doesn't deserve a single second of your thoughts. not anymore."
she let out a heavy, weary sigh, leaning into his touch, completely blind to the dangerous spark igniting inside him. "i know. you're right. it’s just hard to forget someone who was such a huge part of my life, you know? sometimes i wonder if he ever thinks about me, too. or if he'll ever try to come back."
at those words, michael’s hand dropped from her chin to her neck, his palm resting against the warm skin of her throat, his thumb feeling the sudden, rapid skip of her pulse. his jaw clenched so hard a muscle ticked in his cheek. the gentle, patient best friend was fading fast, replaced by something much darker.
"it shouldn't matter if he does," michael said, his voice dropping an octave, becoming dangerously low and thick with a possessive weight. he leaned in closer, his breath brushing against her lips, his eyes locking onto hers with an unyielding grip. "because you're done with him. you're here. with me. he doesn't get to touch you anymore, and he sure as hell doesn't get to have you back."
the heavy, possessive edge in his voice passed completely over her head, misinterpreted as nothing more than the fierce, protective loyalty of a best friend. a soft, incredibly grateful smile touched her lips, melting away the lingering sadness in her eyes. without a word, she shifted her weight and wrapped her arms tightly around his neck, burying her face into the crook of his shoulder. she pulled him close, holding onto him like he was the only anchor she had left in the world.
"thank you, michael," she whispered into his skin, her warm breath sending a sharp shiver straight down his spine. she squeezed him a little tighter, sighing with absolute relief. "i don't know what i'd do without you. i'm just so incredibly lucky to have a friend like you in my life. you're the only constant i have."
at the sound of that word—friend—michael froze completely, his entire body going rigid beneath her embrace. it felt like a bucket of ice water pouring over the dark, roaring fire in his chest, only to turn it into a suffocating, toxic smoke. his eyes widened slightly in the dark, staring blankly at the wall over her shoulder. a friend. after everything they had shared in the quiet hours of the night, after the way he had held her, after the way his heart practically bled for her every single day, she still neatly categorized him into that safe, harmless little box.
slowly, almost mechanically, his arms came up to wrap around her waist, but his grip wasn't gentle anymore. he pulled her body flush against his, tight enough to bruise, his large hands anchoring her against him with a sudden, desperate force that made her let out a tiny, surprised gasp. he buried his face in her hair, inhaling her scent deeply, his mind spiraling into a dangerous, dark place. he didn't want to be just her friend. he hated the word. he wanted to scream at her that friends didn't do the things they did, that friends didn't look at each other the way he looked at her. as he held her captive in his arms, his jaw clenched, a quiet, terrifying vow settling deep into his soul: she could call him a friend all she wanted right now, but he was going to make sure she belonged to him completely, and no one else would ever touch her again.
as the days bled into weeks, michael found himself sinking deeper and deeper into the sea of his own feelings, completely unable and unwilling to swim back to the surface. every single morning started with her on his mind, and every night ended with the memory of her laughter echoing in his head. it was a beautiful, overwhelming shift that colored his entire world. he noticed a change in the way he wrote music, the melodies coming to him more easily, softer and sweeter, completely inspired by the way her presence seemed to anchor his chaotic life.
what made him truly happy—a deep, glowing kind of joy that he hadn't felt in years—was watching her bloom again. the heavy, suffocating cloud that her ex had left over her was finally, completely gone. michael watched her with a quiet, reverent awe as her natural luminosity returned. she smiled more, her eyes danced with that old, vibrant spark he had missed so much, and her laughter filled his quiet home with a warmth that no amount of fame or success ever could. she was glowing, radiant, and completely free, and michael took immense pride in knowing he was the one who had helped her find that light again.
with her healing, the dynamic between them began to clarify, clearing up the messy, confusing boundaries of the past. they weren't just running to each other in the dark to escape pain anymore; they were actively choosing each other in the bright light of day. their shared moments became lighter, filled with a beautiful clarity that made michael’s heart swell with hope. when she reached out to hold his hand while they walked, or when she gave him those long, lingering looks across a crowded room, it didn't feel like a temporary comfort. it felt like a promise. the unspoken bond between them was growing stronger, purer, and more defined, making michael believe that very soon, the painful word 'friend' would naturally fade away, leaving only the beautiful reality of what they were meant to be.
michael’s growing affection began to manifest in the quietest, most beautiful ways, turning their daily routine into a series of soft, romantic gestures that she never saw coming. he had always been a generous soul, but now, every little thing he did for her carried a deeper, hidden weight. he became hyper-attentive to her smallest desires, making it his personal mission to bring a smile to her face before she even realized she needed one.
sometimes, he would show up at her apartment door completely unannounced after a long day in the studio, hiding his hands behind his back with a shy, boyish grin playing on his lips. when he stepped inside, he’d present her with a single, perfectly bloomed pink rose, its petals still damp with morning dew. he didn't make a grand spectacle out of it; he would just hand it to her gently, his fingertips lingering against hers for a second too long, whispering that he saw it and immediately thought of her. soon, her kitchen counter was constantly adorned with small glass vases, each holding a token of his quiet devotion.
it wasn't just the flowers, though; it was the overwhelming thoughtfulness behind every single attention. if she casually mentioned in passing that she was craving a specific sweet from a bakery on the other side of town, she would open her door the next morning to find a fresh box of them sitting on her welcome mat with a small, handwritten note from him. when she was stressed, he would show up with her favorite comfort foods, dim the lights, and rub her shoulders with a quiet, intense focus, listening to her talk for hours without ever asking for anything in return. he was slowly wrapping her entire world in his care, spoiling her with a tenderness she had never experienced in her life, desperately hoping she would see that the man who loved her like this could never be just a friend.
but beneath the surface of her bright new life, a quiet, unsettling secret was beginning to take root. while she truly appreciated every single rose and every tender gesture michael showered her with, she couldn't completely shut off the back of her mind. the truth was, her ex hadn't entirely vanished. a few weeks ago, a random, late-night call had rang on her phone from his number—a simple, manipulative 'i miss you, can we talk?'—and it had completely sent her head spinning. she hadn't replied, but she hadn't blocked him either.
since then, he had tried to reach out a few more times, leaving vague voicemails and checking up on her through mutual acquaintances. every time the phone rang, a familiar, toxic knot of anxiety and old habit would tighten in her stomach. she felt incredibly guilty about it, especially when she looked into michael's sweet, devoted eyes, which is exactly why she made the conscious choice to never mention it to him. she knew how much michael hated her ex, and she didn't want to ruin the beautiful, peaceful dynamic they had built over the last few months. she convinced herself that she could handle it on her own, that it wasn't a big deal because she wasn't giving in.
the air was crisp and quiet around two in the morning when michael pulled up to her apartment complex. he had spent the last five hours in the studio, but his mind had been entirely focused on her, prompting him to leave early just to surprise her with her favorite late-night snacks and a fresh bouquet of white roses. he walked up the stairwell with a soft, eager hum vibrating in his chest, anticipating the sweet, sleepy smile she always wore whenever he knocked on her door at odd hours.
but the moment he stepped onto her floor, the gentle warmth in his veins turned to pure, freezing ice.
there, sitting right outside her doorway, was a pair of dirty sneakers. michael stopped dead in his tracks, his breath hitching in his throat as his eyes locked onto the shoes. he recognized them instantly. he had seen them a hundred times before, abandoned on her floor during those horrible months when that man was systematically breaking her heart. it was her ex. he was inside.
for a long, agonizing second, michael couldn't move. his knuckles turned white around the stems of the roses, crushing the delicate leaves until the scent of crushed greenery filled the narrow hallway. a sudden, violent wave of raw jealousy and absolute fury surged from the pit of his stomach, hot and suffocating, making his heart hammer against his ribs like a trapped animal. his teeth ground together so hard his jaw ached, a dangerous, dizzying rush of adrenaline clouding his vision. she had lied to him. she had kept this from him. after everything he had done to rebuild her, she had let that toxic bastard back into her apartment, back into the space that was supposed to be safe.
then, through the thin wood of the front door, a sound bled into the hallway. it was the deep, smug laugh of her ex, followed by the faint muffled sound of her voice answering him.
the sound of that man's laughter snapped something profound inside michael’s mind. he froze completely, his entire body turning to rigid stone as he stood right in front of the door, staring at the peephole with wide, unblinking eyes. the sweet, gentle boy who brought her flowers vanished entirely, replaced by a dark, terrifyingly possessive monster. his chest rose and fell in shallow, ragged breaths as the laughter mocked him from the other side. according to michael, she didn't belong to that ghost anymore; she belonged to him. she was his girl, his sanity, his creation. hearing another man in her space made him want to rip the door off its hinges, his hands trembling with a sudden, vicious urge to tear everything apart.
the silence that followed that night was deafening. days bled into one another, and for the first time in years, michael completely vanished from her life.
at first, she didn't think much of it, assuming he was just trapped in an intense, overnight recording session where he lost all track of time. but by the third day, a cold, nagging knot of anxiety began to tighten in her chest. she called his personal line—the private number only a handful of people possessed—but it went straight to voicemail every single time, his soft, recorded voice offering her a mocking contrast to the heavy silence on the other end. she sent texts, starting with casual check-ins and gradually spiraling into frantic paragraphs, asking if he was okay, if he was hurt, or if something had happened at havenhurst.
the phone never rang back.
nearly a week passed in this agonizing vacuum. she found herself pacing around her apartment, her eyes constantly darting to her quiet phone, her mind spinning in desperate circles. she felt entirely lost without him; the daily roses had stopped coming, the comforting late-night texts were gone, and the sudden absence of his warmth left her apartment feeling freezing and empty. she started questioning everything, her thoughts taking a darker, more paranoid turn. had his management taken his phone away? was he sick? or worse... was he mad at her?
she racked her brain, trying to remember their last conversation on the couch, wondering if she had accidentally said something to hurt him or push him away. she never once connected his sudden disappearance to the brief, unwanted visit from her ex that rainy night—a visit she had quickly shut down after realizing the guy hadn't changed at all. she had no idea that michael had been standing right outside her door, listening to that laughter. she had no clue that his silence wasn't a sign of absence, but rather the quiet, suffocating calm before a massive storm, and that michael was currently sitting in the dark of his own home, deliberately ignoring her calls while his jealousy twisted into something completely uncontrollable.
unable to handle the suffocating silence for another second, she finally cracked. she grabbed her keys, drove over to havenhurst, and prayed he would be alone. her heart was beating like a drum in her throat as she walked up to his front door, her hands trembling slightly as she knocked, the sound echoing loudly in the quiet afternoon air.
for a long minute, nothing happened. she was just about to knock again, tears of frustration pricking her eyes, when she heard the heavy lock click.
the door swung open slowly, and the breath completely caught in her throat. it was michael, but it wasn't the michael she knew. he looked completely unraveled, his curls slightly messy and his eyes shadowed with dark, exhausted circles. there was no welcoming smile, no gentle warmth in his gaze. instead, his eyes were bloodshot, burning with a cold, terrifying intensity that made her instinctively step back. he looked entirely drained, yet under the surface, a dangerous, volatile anger was practically vibrating through his skin.
"michael..." she breathed, her voice shaking as she reached a hand out toward him. "oh my god, you're okay. why haven't you been answering me? i've been so worried—"
"why did you lie to me?"
his voice cut through her words like a razor blade. it wasn't a shout; it was a low, guttural whisper, thick with an agonizing mix of betrayal and raw, unadulterated fury. he didn't open the door any wider, standing there like a dark barrier, his long fingers gripping the edge of the wood so tightly his knuckles were stark white. the sheer possessive rage in his stare pinned her to the spot, making her realize in one terrifying second that he knew exactly what she had been hiding.
she stared at him, her mind completely blank as a wave of genuine confusion washed over her. the intense rage vibrating off his body was terrifying, but she honestly couldn't connect the dots in her frantic, panicked state.
"michael, what are you talking about?" she asked, her voice trembling as she took a small step closer to the threshold. "what do you mean lie to you? i haven't lied about anything, i swear! please just tell me what's wrong."
michael didn't answer. instead, a dark, bitter scoff slipped from his lips, his shoulders shaking with a terrifying kind of laugh that had absolutely no joy in it. he didn't want to look at her face, because seeing her look so innocent, so clueless, only fueled the blinding fire screaming in his chest. filled with an uncontainable rage, he suddenly spun around on his heel, abandoning the front door entirely, and began walking down the long, dimly lit hallway toward his bedroom. his steps were heavy, deliberate, and practically radiating a dangerous aura that made the entire house feel small.
"michael! stop!" she cried out, her heart hammering wildly against her ribs as she quickly stepped into the house, slamming the front door behind her so she could chase after him.
she followed him down the corridor, her smaller steps running to keep up with his angry, long strides. "michael, talk to me! you can't just ignore me for a week and then accuse me of lying! look at me!" she pleaded, reaching out to grab the sleeve of his shirt, but he ripped his arm away without breaking his pace. she followed him right into his bedroom, the large doors swinging open as he stormed inside, completely desperate to get to the bottom of the terrifying storm that had just taken over her best friend.
he stormed into the deep shadows of his bedroom, finally spinning around to face her the second her feet crossed the threshold. the large doors clicked shut behind her, locking them both inside an incredibly tense, suffocating space. his chest was heaving, his breathing ragged and uneven as he glared down at her, his hands clenched into tight fists at his sides.
"why did you go back to him?" michael demanded, his voice cracking under the sheer weight of his fury. he stepped closer, towering over her, his dark eyes absolutely wild with an intense, possessive rage. "after everything he did to you... after every single night i held you while you cried over his name... why was he in your apartment, laughing? tell me!"
the words hit her like a physical blow. she froze completely, her entire body locking up as the blood completely drained from her face. her eyes widened in pure shock, her breath hitching painfully in her throat as the realization slammed into her mind with terrifying clarity.
he knew. he had seen him.
the puzzle pieces fell into place instantly—the sudden silence, the ignored phone calls, the terrifying anger radiating from him now. she stood there completely paralyzed under his suffocating gaze, realizing that the quiet secret she had been keeping to protect him had just unleashed the darkest, most dangerous side of michael she had ever seen.
her lips parted, but no sound came out at first. she looked up at him, completely trapped beneath the crushing weight of his stare, her mind scrambling for words that simply wouldn't come.
"m-michael, no... i-it's not what you think," she stammered, her voice shaking violently as a thick, painful knot tightened in her throat. she took a small, hesitant step forward, reaching her hands out in a desperate plea. "he—he just showed up... i didn't invite him, i swear, i—"
she couldn't even finish the sentence. the sheer intensity of his fury, combined with the crushing guilt of having kept it a secret, completely broke her. a hot, heavy wave of tears rushed to her eyes, blurring her vision until michael’s angry silhouette became a dark smear in the dim light of the bedroom. she blinked, and the first tear spilled over, tracking a burning line down her pale cheek, quickly followed by another. her shoulders trembled as she swallowed down a sob, staring at him through her tears, utterly terrified by how twisted and ugly a simple misunderstanding had become between them.
michael took a sharp step closer, closing the distance between them until he was looming directly over her, his shadow completely swallowing her small frame. the sight of her tears didn't soften him; if anything, the raw vulnerability in her face only fueled the desperate, ugly knot of jealousy tightening around his throat.
"why do you love him so much?" he asked, his voice dropping into a ragged, breathless whisper that vibrated with absolute pain and fury. he grabbed her by the upper arms, his grip firm and unyielding, forcing her to look up into his dark, chaotic eyes. "what does he give you that i don't? tell me! why is it that every single time he throws a crumb of attention your way, you run right back into his arms like nothing else matters?"
he shook his head, a bitter, breathless laugh escaping his lips as he stared down at her tear-stained face. his chest was heaving against hers, the proximity suffocating and charged with an intense, dangerous energy.
"after every single night we spent in this bed... after the way i look at you, the way i take care of you... you still choose him?" his voice cracked, thick with a possessive despair that made his eyes burn. "he breaks you, and i have to patch you back up, just for you to hand yourself right back to him on a silver platter. why, because you think he owns you? because you think nobody else can love you like that? look at me! why do you keep letting him ruin us?"
the accusation cut deep, and the sheer possessive weight of his words snapped something inside her, replacing her paralyzing fear with a sudden, desperate surge of defensiveness. she yanked her arms back, trying to break his firm grip, her chest heaving as a fresh wave of hot tears spilled down her cheeks.
"how do you mean us, michael?!" she cried out, her voice breaking completely, a breathless, sobbing gasp escaping her throat. she looked at him through her blurred vision, her face pale and distorted by misery. "i don't—i don't owe you anything to begin with! we are friends, michael! you are my best friend!"
she swallowed hard, her voice trembling violently as she tried to force the words past the thick lump in her throat, desperately needing him to understand the nightmare she had actually been dealing with.
"you don't understand," she stammered, her hands shaking as she pressed them against his chest, not to hold him, but to desperately keep some distance between them. "he... he just showed up. it’s his manipulation, michael! you know how he is. he knows exactly when i'm weak, he knows exactly when i'm starting to feel better, and he uses it. he profits off my vulnerability just to force his way back into my life! i didn't ask for him to be there, i didn't want him there! he manipulated his way into my apartment and i was just trying to get him to leave without making a scene!"
at her words, something shifted completely in michael’s eyes. the dark, simmering fury broke into a cold, terrifyingly sharp clarity. he didn't flinch when she screamed that they were just friends; instead, a slow, dark smile touched his lips, completely devoid of any warmth. it was a terrifying look on a face usually so gentle.
"friends?" he whispered, his voice dropping into a low, dangerous purr that vibrated right against her skin.
before she could even register the shift in his tone, his hands moved from her arms to her waist, his long fingers digging into her hips with a sudden, bruising force. he jerked her forward, slamming her body flush against his chest so violently she lost her breath. he loomed over her, his dark eyes locking onto hers with a fierce, suffocating intensity that made the entire bedroom feel like it was closing in on them.
"don't you dare lie to yourself like that," michael growled, his breathing ragged, his face just inches from hers. "best friends don't cross the lines we've crossed in the dark. best friends don't touch each other the way i touch you. i am not your friend, and i am done playing that stupid little game."
he leaned down closer, his lips brushing against her ear as he spoke, his voice thick with a raw, terrifyingly possessive weight that made her whole body tremble.
"you think you don't owe me anything? you belong to me. you’ve belonged to me since the first night you came crying to my doorstep and let me put you back together. i rebuilt you piece by piece while that bastard broke you. he doesn't get to touch you anymore. he doesn't get to profit off your vulnerability. you are mine, do you hear me? mine. and i am never letting you go back to him."
the breath completely trapped itself in her throat, her chest locked tight against his as his words echoed through the silence of the dark bedroom. she stared up at him, her eyes wide, completely paralyzed by the sheer shock of what was happening. this wasn't the sweet, gentle michael who brought her roses and rubbed her shoulders after a long day. the boy standing before her was completely unrecognizable, his voice dripping with a raw, dominant authority that she had never heard from him before.
he slowly leaned in closer, his forehead coming to rest against hers, though there was no real warmth in the gesture—only a heavy, suffocating pressure. his breathing was deliberate, casting a hot, uneven rhythm over her lips. when he spoke again, the hard, dominant edge in his voice suddenly fractured, shifting into something terrifyingly fragile and wounded.
"look at what you're doing to me," michael whispered, his voice cracking with a fragile, trembling emotion that made her heart instantly twist with guilt. "you're sitting there looking at me like i'm a monster. like i'm the one trying to hurt you. after everything i've sacrificed for you... after how much i've bled just to keep us together."
he let out a ragged, trembling sigh, his long fingers trailing up her arms with a delicate, shaking touch, acting as if he were the one who was completely broken and defenseless in the dark.
"i'm the victim here, sweetheart. not you. i'm the one who has to stay up all night, tearing myself apart, wondering why the only person i love would rather let another man touch her than protect my heart. you threw my love right back in my face, and now you're punishing me just because i'm desperate enough to fight for you? because i'm bleeding out right in front of you?"
he squeezed his eyes shut, a single, perfectly timed tear escaping down his cheek as his chest heaved against hers, making himself look entirely helpless and undone by her apparent cruelty.
"you did this to me," he choked out, his voice dripping with a tragic, agonizing despair that was entirely calculated to destroy her defenses. "you broke me first. i'm only like this because you drove me to it. please... tell me you see what you've done to me. tell me you're going to fix the man you broke."
the words left her lips in a panicked, trembling rush, her hands pressing weakly against his chest as she tried to find some ground to stand on. "m-michael... stop, please. you're talking crazy. you're saying completely ridiculous things."
the moment the protest left her mouth, michael's entire demeanor shifted. the fragile, weeping victim vanished in an instant, his jaw locking tight as a chilling, icy stillness washed over his features. he didn't pull away; instead, he leaned down even heavier, trapping her beneath his frame so completely that she could barely expand her lungs to breathe.
"crazy?" he echoed, his voice dropping into a low, terrifyingly calm whisper that vibrated right against her lips. "you think i'm saying ridiculous things?"
he let out a sharp, humorless chuckle that sent a cold shiver straight down her spine. his dark eyes bored into hers, completely devoid of the warmth she usually found there.
"i'm the one who's crazy? after i watched you welcome him into your space? after i had to sit in the dark and feel my entire world collapse because you couldn't be bothered to protect us?" his grip on her jaw tightened, just enough to keep her completely still, forcing her to look at the cold fury masking his face. "don't you dare try to rewrite what you did to me. don't you dare sit here and gaslight me into thinking my pain isn't real just because you don't want to face the guilt of what you've done."
he leaned in closer, his hot breath brushing against her ear as his voice turned dangerously sharp.
"you don't get to dismiss me. you broke me, and now you're going to stay right here and look at exactly what you created."
he leaned back just enough to force her to look into his dark, unyielding eyes, his fingers tightening firmly around her jaw. the cold fury in his expression suddenly shifted into a terrifyingly intense, dark conviction.
"you still don't get it, do you?" michael murmured, his voice dropping into a low, gravelly rasp that vibrated deep in his chest. "you really don't understand. you think this is a game? you think you can just choose when you want to be with me and when you want to play around with someone else?"
he let out a sharp, breathless exhale, his chest pressing down flush against hers, crushing any space between them until she was entirely pinned beneath his heavy warmth.
"you belong to me. every single piece of you. your body, your breath, your thoughts—they all belong to me," he whispered fiercely, his eyes scanning her panicked, flushed face with an absolute, frightening certainty. "i didn't spend all this time loving you, protecting you, and tearing myself apart just to let you slip away. you are mine. you don't get to decide anymore."
he slid his hand down from her jaw, his long, warm fingers wrapping possessively around her throat—not to squeeze, but to claim, feeling the frantic, rapid flutter of her pulse beneath his palm.
"there is no one else, and there never will be," he purred darkly against her lips, his gaze completely devouring her. "you're locked in this room with me, and you're going to stay right here until you finally understand that you are completely, entirely mine."
the air in the bedroom grew thick, heavy, and suffocatingly hot. with his lips brushing her skin and his hands pinning her hips, the space between them vanished entirely, and a completely different kind of tension began to coil in the pit of her stomach. it wasn't just fear anymore. it was a sharp, dizzying rush of adrenaline that made her whole body tingle, a sudden, dangerous spark igniting right in the middle of all this chaos.
as she stared up at his mouth, her heart hammered so hard against her ribs she was sure he could feel it. the sheer weight of the situation finally crashed down on her with full force. michael—her sweet, gentle, protected michael—was completely out of control, consumed by a fierce, dominant hunger for her. and the most terrifying part? a small, dark corner of her mind was secretly thrilled by the absolute certainty in his voice.
she swallowed hard, her throat dry, her eyes locked onto his dark, burning gaze. she could feel the erratic rise and fall of his chest against hers, the raw male power he was using to hold her still, and the dangerous promises dripping from his tongue. the realization that she was entirely at his mercy, trapped in his bedroom with a man who was ruthlessly claiming her as his exclusive possession, sent a violent shiver right through her core. she was caught in a trap of her own making, and looking into his wild eyes, she realized she didn't even want to run away anymore.
the raw, suffocating intensity of michael's grip finally broke through her defenses, dissolving the last of her confusion into a desperate need to make him understand the truth. she didn't want her ex. she was terrified of him.
"michael, please... listen to me," she choked out, her voice cracking as a fresh wave of tears spilled over her lashes. she stopped trying to pull away and instead let her hands clutch the fabric of his shirt, leaning into his solid chest as her knees threatened to buckle. "i don't want him. i swear to you, i don't. i am so tired, michael... i can't take it anymore."
she swallowed hard, a ragged sob escaping her throat as she confessed the secret she had been carrying alone for weeks. "he... he scares me. he won't stop, michael. he always finds a way to show up, he forces his way into my space, and he doesn't care when i tell him to leave. that night... i was just so paralyzed and terrified of making a scene that i didn't know what to do. i never wanted him there. i never wanted anyone but you."
hearing her voice tremble with genuine fear shifted something volatile in the room. she looked up at him through her blurred vision, her heart hammering wildly as she laid her vulnerability entirely at his feet. she was completely exhausted from running from her past, and in that moment, looking into michael's dark, fiercely protective eyes, she realized she was begging for him to save her—even if it meant completely surrendering herself to his dangerous, absolute control.
the tears she had been trying so hard to hold back finally spilled over, rushing down her cheeks in hot, heavy streams. her shoulders shook violently as she completely broke down under the crushing weight of her exhaustion, her fear of her ex, and the sheer, dizzying intensity of everything happening in this room.
seeing her completely unravel like this caused a subtle shift in michael’s expression. the blinding, volatile fury melted into a dark, suffocating tenderness—something far more dangerous and possessive than his anger had been. his tight grip on her hips loosened just enough for him to bring one hand up to her face. his long, slender fingers, incredibly gentle yet unyielding, brushed against her wet cheek. with his thumb, he slowly, almost religiously, wiped away the tears pooling at her lashes.
"shh... don't cry anymore. don't you ever cry for him again," he murmured, his voice dropping into a low, caressing cadence that carried an absolute, undeniable authority.
he leaned in even closer, pressing his forehead directly against hers, forcing her to drown in the depths of his dark gaze as his presence entirely swallowed her up.
"you never have to be afraid of him again. i’m here now. he’s never going to get near you again, do you hear me?" his hand slid around to the back of her neck, his fingers anchoring themselves into her hair to keep her pinned right against him. "you belong to me. you are mine, and no one else’s. i’m going to protect you from him, i’m going to protect you from everything. but you have to understand that you are my girl now. never again do you let him in. never again do you hide anything from me. you are mine, okay?"
every word he whispered as he wiped her eyes felt like a sacred, unbreakable pact being sealed in the shadows of the bedroom. he wasn't leaving her an exit, erasing the entire outside world until there was absolutely nothing left but the two of them in the dark.
she could barely breathe, her throat so tight with sobs that the words caught and tangled on her tongue. she shook her head weakly against his forehead, her small hands clutching desperately at the front of his shirt as she tried one last time to make him understand the absolute terror her ex had put her through.
"m-michael... p-please," she stammered, a broken, breathless gasp escaping her trembling lips as fresh tears instantly replaced the ones he had just wiped away. "i—i didn't want... i tried to tell him to leave, i swear... i was just so scared... you have to believe me, mike..."
but her frantic explanations seemed to fade into nothingness against the heavy, dominant rhythm of his breathing. michael didn't look at her like a friend listening to a story; he looked at her like a man claiming what was rightfully his. his thumb continued its slow, deliberate path across her damp skin, smoothing away the moisture with a touch that felt entirely too heavy, entirely too possessive to resist.
"shh... it doesn't matter anymore," he murmured, his voice dropping into an even deeper, darker whisper that vibrated straight through her chest.
with every word, he moved closer, pressing his body so firmly against hers that she could feel the hard line of his thighs and the terrifying, steady beat of his heart. he nudged her chin upward, backing her up just an inch until the back of her knees hit the edge of his mattress, trapping her completely between him and the bed.
"forget about him," michael whispered, his lips brushing against her cheek now, traveling down to the corner of her mouth as his hot breath fanned over her skin. "he’s gone. you don't answer to him, you don't look at him. you only look at me. you are mine now. every single part of you belongs to me."
"n-no... michael, we can't... we can't do this," she stammered, her voice cracking as a sudden wave of panic cut through the heavy tension.
with a desperate surge of strength, she pushed her hands against his chest and managed to tear herself away from his suffocating grip. the sudden loss of his heat made the bedroom air feel freezing cold. her heart was hammering wildly against her ribs as she began to pace back and forth across the dark hardwood floor, her hands gripping her own hair, her mind spinning out of control. "this is wrong... you're my friend, michael, we are crossing lines we shouldn't be crossing... i'm so confused, i can't think straight..."
michael stood completely still by the edge of the bed, watching her frantic movements with a calm, unbothered intensity. he didn't chase after her; instead, he just leaned back slightly, a soft, almost disappointed sigh escaping his lips as he shook his head.
"what do you mean we can't do this?" he asked, his voice dripping with a smooth, gaslighting gentleness that made her stop in her tracks. he took a slow, deliberate step toward her, his expression a picture of pure innocence and concern. "sweetheart, look at how worked up you're getting over nothing. you're the one who came into my room crying. you're the one who always comes to me when he breaks you. i'm just giving you the security you've been begging for this whole time."
he walked closer, his dark eyes locked onto hers, completely twisting reality until she felt like she was the one losing her mind.
"don't act like i'm forcing this on you," michael murmured, a faint, condescending smile touching his lips. "you know you want this just as much as i do. you're just scared because for the first time, someone actually wants to take care of you completely. why are you pretending this is a mistake when you've been leading us right to this moment every single night?"
"b-but we're friends, michael! we've always just been friends," she cried out, her voice cracking as she stopped her pacing, her eyes wide and desperate as she stared at him fromacross the room. she was practically begging him to validate the reality she had been clinging to for months, her hands trembling against her sides. "you're the person i trust most in the world, but as a friend... we can't just change that."
michael let out a low, bitter laugh, a sound that sent a cold chill straight down her spine. he closed the distance between them in a few slow, predatory strides, not stopping until he was looming right over her again, his presence completely trapping her against the wall.
"friends? really?" he whispered, tilting his head down so his dark, intense gaze could pierce straight into hers. his voice dropped into that low, dangerous purr, utterly dismissive of her panic. "after everything we’ve done behind closed doors? you're really going to stand there and tell me that?"
he reached out, his long fingers firmly wrapping around her waist once more, pulling her flush against his chest so suddenly that a soft gasp escaped her lips.
"best friends don't hold each other the way we do in the dark. they don't look at each other the way you look at me when you're lonely," michael murmured, his lips brushing against her temple as he tightened his grip, completely shattering any illusion of innocence left between them. "we passed 'just friends' a long time ago, sweetheart. we are so much more than that now, and you know it. stop lying to yourself."
he slowly leaned in closer, his forehead coming to rest against hers, though there was no real warmth in the gesture—only a heavy, suffocating pressure. his breathing was deliberate, casting a hot, uneven rhythm over her lips. when he spoke again, the hard, dominant edge in his voice suddenly fractured, shifting into something terrifyingly fragile and wounded.
he leaned down even closer, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin of her earlobe, his hot breath sending a violent shiver straight down her spine. even with his hand resting possessively over her throat, his touch suddenly became agonizingly slow, almost tender, contrasting terrifyingly with the raw dominance in his voice.
"tell me the truth, sweetheart," he murmured, his voice dropping into a low, hypnotic purr. "did he ever make you smile the way I do? when he looked at you, did your heart race like it's doing right now?"
he trailed his lips down her jawline, planting a slow, burning kiss just beneath her ear before looking back down into her wide, glassy eyes. a dark, deeply confident smile pulled at his lips.
"and what about when we're together? during our little secret adventures... did he ever even come close to making you feel that kind of pleasure? did he ever make your body shake and shatter the way i just did?"
he slid his hand down from her neck, his fingers trailing a burning path over her collarbone before digging firmly into her hip, pinning her completely against the wall.
"he couldn't touch you, and you know it," michael whispered fiercely, his dark eyes burning with an absolute, undeniable triumph. "nobody can love you like i do. nobody can make you feel alive the way i do. you're ruined for anyone else, sweetheart, because no one will ever compare to me."
his fingers slowly dragged down from her hip, tracing a burning line across the sensitive skin of her stomach. the movement was agonizingly deliberate, making her stomach muscles tense instantly under his touch.
"did he even know how to touch you?" michael whispered, his voice dropping into a rough, gravelly murmur that vibrated right against her skin. "did he know the exact spots that make you lose your mind?"
his hand slid lower, moving past her waist and slipping between her thighs, his long, warm fingers making direct, heavy contact with her slick warmth. he didn't push inside right away; instead, his palm pressed firmly against her core, applying a torturous, rhythmic pressure that forced a soft, helpless gasp from her lips.
"did he make you burn like this, sweetheart?" he purred fiercely, watching her face closely as a fresh wave of heat made her hips twitch weakly against his hand. "did he ever make you open up for him this easily? look at how your body answers me. you were made for my hands, and only mine."
"m-michael... what are you doing? please..." she breathed out, the words trembling past her lips in a weak, desperate gasp.
but even as the protest left her mouth, her body completely betrayed her. she didn't pull away. she didn't try to close her legs or push his hand away. instead, her fingers clutched tighter into the wall, her hips melting helplessly into the firm, heavy pressure of his palm. she was completely paralyzed by the sheer intensity of him, trapped in a daze where her mind wanted him to stop, but her body was already entirely surrendered to his touch.
michael let out a low, deeply satisfied hum against her skin, noticing instantly how she wasn't fighting him. he loved the contradiction—the way she questioned him with her voice, while her entire body opened up for him, pleading for more.
"i'm taking what's mine, sweetheart," michael whispered fiercely, his dark eyes locking onto hers as his long fingers began to move against her, sliding through her slick warmth with a slow, deliberate friction.
he leaned down, his lips brushing against her burning cheek as he witnessed her complete, silent submission.
"look at you... you're asking me to stop, but you're shaking for me. you're soaking wet for my fingers," he purred darkly into her ear, his rhythm turning heavier, driving her right back into a state of absolute delirium. "you're letting me do exactly what i want with you, because you know this is exactly where you belong."
"m-michael, please... if you don't stop, i won't be able to..." she trailed off, the words dying in her throat as a sharp, sudden knot of emotion cut off her breath. she couldn't finish the thought, couldn't voice the terrifying truth that she was losing every ounce of her resolve under the heavy weight of his hands and his words.
michael stopped the movement of his fingers just for a fraction of a second, his dark eyes narrowing in the dim light as he leaned down closer, his face mere inches from hers.
"you won't be able to what, sweetheart?" he murmured, his voice a low, challenging rasp that vibrated with dangerous curiosity. "finish the sentence. tell me exactly what you can't do."
but instead of answering, instead of letting him drag another piece of her confession out into the open, she completely snapped. a wave of raw, overwhelming emotion crashed over her—a suffocating mix of devastating sadness from his cruel manipulation and a sudden, burning anger at how easily he could make her crumble.
before he could utter another word, she reached up, her hands tangling desperately into his hair, and pulled his face down to hers, slamming her lips against his.
the kiss was completely chaotic, filled with a bruising intensity that caught him completely off guard. there was nothing sweet or gentle about it; it was a desperate, messy collision of all the pain and frustration she was holding inside. she poured every ounce of her heartbreak into the friction of their lips, crying out silently against his mouth in a furious, grieving surrender that told him everything her words couldn't.
the kiss deepened, turning into a frantic, breathless struggle as michael instantly met her intensity. he didn't back down for a single second; instead, his arms locked around her waist and shoulders, crushing her chest against his with a sudden, bruising force that threatened to squeeze the remaining air right out of her lungs.
it was a chaotic collision of passion and underlying fury. every movement of his lips against hers felt like a battle for absolute control, a heavy, desperate possessiveness that was as intoxicating as it was terrifying. he was holding her so tightly it almost hurt, his large hands digging deep into her skin as if he wanted to physically meld her body into his own, ensuring she could never pull away from him again.
she could taste the raw anger in the way his teeth grazed her bottom lip, but beneath the violence of it, there was a desperate, suffocating need that made her head spin. she clung to him just as fiercely, her fingers ripping through his curls, matching his heavy, demanding rhythm as the dark room seemed to completely vanish around them. they were drowning in each other, completely consumed by a storm of hurt, desire, and mutual ruin.
without breaking the kiss, michael suddenly locked his arms beneath her thighs and hoisted her up in one powerful, effortless motion. her instinct kicked in instantly, her legs wrapping tightly around his waist as he slammed her back hard against the bedroom wall. the sudden impact jolted through her, but before she could even gasp, his mouth crushed back down onto hers with an even more aggressive, unyielding fury.
the kiss completely devolved into something primal and frantic. he was dominating her mouth, his tongue forcing its way inside with a heavy, demanding friction that completely stole her breath away. there was no gentleness left, no hesitation—just a raw, bruising hunger that made her head spin as he pinned her body flat against the wall with his heavy chest.
she clung to his shoulders for dear life, her fingers digging desperately into his skin as the sheer intensity of the collision threatened to pull her under. every ragged breath they shared felt like fire, the toxic mixture of anger, desire, and mutual destruction burning hot between them as he held her aloft, completely at his mercy.
her hands tore away from his shoulders, dropping down to the collar of his shirt with that same frantic, aggressive energy. she didn't care about being careful; her fingers gripped the fabric tightly, pulling and tugging at the buttons with a desperate impatience that nearly ripped the material apart. she needed the barrier gone, needed to feel his bare skin against hers to match the suffocating intensity burning in her chest.
michael let out a low, rough growl against her mouth, his grip on her thighs tightening even more ruthlessly as he felt her nails graze against his chest. he helped her, shifting his weight just enough to let her slide the shirt off his shoulders, letting it drop carelessly to the floor.
the moment her bare palms made contact with his hot, tense muscles, the kiss grew even wilder. she dragged her hands up his chest, her touch a chaotic mix of anger and absolute need, while his mouth continued to dominate hers, pinning her to the wall as they completely lost themselves in the friction of the dark bedroom.
her hands tore away from his shoulders, dropping down to the collar of his shirt with that same frantic, aggressive energy. she didn't care about being careful; her fingers gripped the fabric tightly, pulling and tugging at the buttons with a desperate impatience that nearly ripped the material apart. she needed the barrier gone, needed to feel his bare skin against hers to match the suffocating intensity burning in her chest.
michael let out a low, rough growl against her mouth, his grip on her thighs tightening even more ruthlessly as he felt her nails graze against his chest. he helped her, shifting his weight just enough to let her slide the shirt off his shoulders, letting it drop carelessly to the floor.
the moment her bare palms made contact with his hot, tense muscles, the kiss grew even wilder. she dragged her hands up his chest, her touch a chaotic mix of anger and absolute need, while his mouth continued to dominate hers, pinning her to the wall as they completely lost themselves in the friction of the dark bedroom.
breaking the kiss for a split second, michael leaned back just enough to look at her, his chest heaving violently against hers, his dark eyes wild and completely consumed by the chaos between them. a rough, breathless laugh escaped his lips, his voice dropping into a ragged, fierce whisper against her mouth.
"you're completely insane," he growled, his grip on her thighs tightening until it almost bruised.
"so are you," she shot back instantly, her voice trembling with that same volatile mix of anger and devotion, her eyes staring right back into his with a defiant, burning intensity.
before the words could even fully leave her lips, michael crashed his mouth back down onto hers, and they completely lost their minds. the kiss became a frantic, desperate collision, a beautiful ruin of lips and teeth as they devoured each other in the dark room.
while keeping her pinned firmly against the wall with the weight of his upper body, michael slid one of his large, warm hands down from her thigh. with rough, impatient movements, his fingers hooked into the waistband of her bottoms, dragging the fabric down her legs with a desperate urgency. she kicked her legs out of them blindly, never once breaking the suffocating depth of the kiss, her hands gripping his bare shoulders as her body completely opened up to his touch, entirely surrendered to the madness.
he pulled his lips away from hers just an inch, his hot, ragged breath brushing violently against her mouth as he kept her pinned hard against the solid wood of the wall. his eyes were pitch black, completely consumed by that toxic, relentless jealousy that he just couldn't shake.
"did he ever do this to you?" michael demanded, his voice a rough, breathless rasp that shook with possessive anger. "did he ever have the balls to slide his hands up your thighs, lift you up, and slam you against a wall like this? did he ever look at you and make you feel like you were going to break in half?"
she let out a desperate, shaky gasp, her fingers clutching his bare shoulders as he pressed his heavy frame even closer, giving her absolutely no room to escape his questions.
"tell me, sweetheart. did he touch you right here? did he make you shake the way i do?" he purred darkly, his words dripping with a bitter, obsessive curiosity that was entirely meant to torture them both.
she couldn't take it anymore. the words, the accusations, the suffocating guilt—she just wanted all of it to vanish into the dark. she didn't want to think about the past, and she didn't want to fight the monster he was being.
"shut up," she breathed out, her voice a fierce, broken whisper as she stared straight into his wild eyes. "just shut up and make love to me."
the words left her lips like a direct challenge, and it instantly woke something fierce and predatory deep inside him. a dark, dangerous wave of pride surged through his chest, smoothing out the rough edges of his anger into an absolute, intoxicating sense of victory. he let out a low, gravelly chuckle against her skin, the sound vibrating with a supreme, masculine satisfaction. she was begging him now, entirely consumed by him, completely blind to anyone else.
with his ego fully fed and his possessiveness validated, he slowly lowered her just enough for her feet to touch the hardwood floor, though he kept her pinned firmly against the wall with the heavy, unyielding weight of his bare torso. he intentionally loosened his iron grip on her, giving her arms just enough freedom to move.
"do it then," michael whispered right against her ear, his breath hot and commanding. "take it off me."
her hands dropped to the waistband of his trousers instantly, her fingers trembling but filled with that same frantic, aggressive urgency. she unbuckled his belt with a sharp, metallic click that echoed loudly in the quiet bedroom, her nails scratching lightly against his skin as she undid the button and slowly dragged the heavy zipper down. michael stood perfectly still, his head tilted back slightly against the wall, a dark, triumphant smirk playing on his lips as he watched her through hooded, burning eyes, completely enjoying her desperation.
she hooked her fingers into the fabric, pushing his trousers and briefs down past his hips in one smooth, impatient motion, completely baring his lower body to the cool air of the dark room. his manhood was already fully exposed—thick, heavy, and pulsing with a fierce, hot readiness that completely dominated the small space between them. a thin sheen of pre-cum glistened at the dark tip, catching the faint glint of light in the shadows as his erection strained upward, a raw testament to how much her submission and her words had driven him crazy.
she stared down at him for a fraction of a second, her breath hitching at the sheer size and heat radiating from his lap, but before she could even process it, michael’s hand locked firmly around the back of her neck, tilting her head up to force her to look at him.
"look at what you do to me," he purred darkly, his long fingers sliding down to grip her thigh, lifting her leg up high to completely open her up to him. "now tell me exactly who you belong to."
"you," she gasped out, her voice a broken, breathless whisper as she clung to his bare shoulders for support. "i belong to you, michael. only you."
the answer was exactly what he needed to hear. that dark, possessive pride flared up in his chest again, and without another word, he lifted her leg higher, hooking it securely around his hip to completely expose her center to his heat.
he positioned himself directly against her entrance, the broad, smooth tip of his length brushing firmly through her slick warmth, teasing the very edge of her core. she let out a sharp, involuntary whine at the sensation, her hips instinctively tilting forward, begging for the friction, but michael paused for one agonizing second, staring deep into her eyes to make sure she was looking right at him when it happened.
"stay right there. look at me," he murmured, his voice a dark, commanding growl.
then, with one heavy, unyielding thrust, he drove himself straight inside.
the sudden, massive fullness of him filled her completely, stretching her tight walls so perfectly that a loud, choked gasp tore from her throat. her fingers dug deep into the muscles of his back, her nails scratching against his skin as her body adjusted to the intense, burning heat of him burying himself all the way to the hilt. michael let out a low, ragged groan against her neck, his entire body shuddering as her slick, tight core clamped down fiercely around his length, trapping him inside her suffocating warmth.
he didn't give her time to recover. holding her firmly against the wall with his hands locked under her thighs, he pulled back slightly and drove in again, establishing a heavy, aggressive rhythm that made the headboard rattle against the drywall. each deep, possessive stroke was a reminder of exactly who she belonged to, plunging them both headfirst into absolute madness.
the rhythm became completely frantic, a heavy, seamless friction that echoed loudly in the dark bedroom. each time he drove himself deep inside her, the impact jolted straight through her core, sending a violent, paralyzing wave of pleasure through her entire body. she was completely undone, her head rolling back against the solid wall as ragged, breathless moans tore from her throat with every single thrust.
she absolutely loved it. she loved the terrifying intensity of his weight against her, the bruising grip of his hands on her skin, and the undeniable truth that, despite all the anger and the tears, her body was completely wired for his touch. she clung to his bare shoulders, her fingers digging deep into his muscles, pulling him closer and tilting her hips forward to meet every heavy stroke, matching his aggressive energy with a desperate hunger of her own.
michael let out a low, gravelly groan against the column of her neck, his chest heaving violently against hers. the feeling of her tight, slick walls clamping down ruthlessly around him with every movement was driving him completely insane. he could feel how perfectly she welcomed him, how her body shaped itself entirely around his length, and it fed that dark, possessive pride inside him until it was completely intoxicating.
he loved the absolute certainty of having her pinned here, hearing her voice break as she cried out his name, knowing that no matter what happened outside this room, she was entirely surrendered to him in the dark.
"look at you... you love this," michael panting, his voice a rough, breathless rasp as he pulled back and drove right back in, burying himself to the hilt. "you love how hard i'm taking you, don't you, sweetheart?"
she couldn't even answer with words; she just let out a sharp, shattered cry, her legs wrapping even tighter around his waist as she buried her face into his neck, biting down gently on his shoulder to anchor herself through the overwhelming storm of pleasure. they were both completely drowning in the madness, losing themselves in a chaotic, beautiful ruin where anger, passion, and mutual devotion were completely indistinguishable.
he slowed his pace just a fraction, but the depth of his thrusts remained heavy and unyielding, keeping her completely pinned against the wall as he buried his face in the crook of her neck. his hot, ragged breaths were sharp against her skin, vibrating with the sudden, raw return of that suffocating memory.
"you have no idea..." michael growled, his voice dropping into a rough, fractured whisper that shook with a toxic mixture of pleasure and lingering fury. "you have absolutely no idea how much rage i had burning inside me when i saw him standing there. in your apartment. in your space."
he drove into her again, a hard, possessive stroke that forced a broken gasp from her lips, his hands tightening on her thighs until his knuckles turned white.
"i tried so hard to be a gentleman," he panted, his teeth grazing against the sensitive skin of her jawline as he fought the memory of that suffocating anger. "i stood there, i played the part, i didn't lay a hand on him... but i had nothing but pure hatred in my chest. i wanted to tear the place apart. i wanted to destroy him for even looking at what belongs to me."
he pulled back slightly, his dark eyes forcing her to look straight at him through the shadows, his expression a chaotic mix of intense pleasure and raw, vulnerable bitterness.
"seeing another man in your life... it was killing me, sweetheart," he whispered fiercely, his rhythm picking right back up, driving into her with a renewed, desperate intensity that made her head spin. "and right now, i'm wiping every single trace of him out of your mind."
"m-michael... ah! michael..." she moaned out his name, the sound breaking from her throat in a shattered, breathless sob as his words and his body crashed into her all at once.
she tightened her legs around his waist, pulling him in even deeper, wanting to swallow up all that lingering bitterness he was pouring into her. she could feel the raw pain behind his jealousy, and it broke something inside her, melting away the last of her own anger.
"there’s no one else..." she panted, her voice trembling as she clutched his face between her hands, forcing him to look at her through the dark. "it was only ever you... it's always been you. i don't care about him, michael. i don't care about anyone else."
she kissed him again, a deep, desperate reassurance that tasted like salt and heat, trying to heal the wound she had caused.
michael let out a low, shuddering growl against her lips, her words hitting him right in his chest. that final validation completely broke his remaining restraint. his rhythm turned wilder, faster, driving into her with a fierce, possessive desperation that completely consumed them both, erasing everything else from existence until there was nothing left but his name on her lips.
the tension in the room coiled so tight it felt ready to snap. the heavy, desperate rhythm of his hips against hers grew faster, shallower, driven by a sudden, electric urgency that gripped them both at the exact same moment. a familiar, blinding heat began to bloom deep in her lower stomach, spreading rapidly through her veins like wildfire.
"michael..." she gaspsed out, her fingers tightening into his damp hair, her entire body arching off the wall as her internal muscles began to contract around him in tiny, frantic waves.
michael felt the sudden, tight squeeze of her core, and it pushed him right over the edge. his breathing turned completely ragged, his chest heaving violently against hers as a dark, guttural groan tore from his chest. he recognized that look in her eyes—the way her focus shattered, her gaze rolling back as she clung to him for dear life.
"i know, sweetheart... i feel you," he panted fiercely against her lips, his hands locking around her thighs with an iron grip, holding her up as he delivered a few final, devastatingly deep thrusts. "come on... right now. give it all to me."
the pleasure crashed over them like a tidal wave. she let out a long, broken cry against his shoulder as her climax ripped through her, her body shuddering violently in a beautiful, prolonged release. the sensation of her undoing was too much for michael to handle; with one last, powerful surge, he buried himself to the hilt and let go, a sharp gasp escaping his lips as his own release flooded her core, locking them together in a shared, breathless oblivion.
the intense waves of pleasure slowly receded, leaving her body completely heavy and exhausted. her legs gradually slipped down from his waist, her feet finding the cool floor as she leaned weakly against the wall, her forehead resting against michael's bare shoulder. her breath was still coming in short, uneven gasps, but then, the heavy silence of the room was broken by a soft, hitched sob.
a single hot tear slipped down her cheek, quickly followed by another, until she was silently crying, her shoulders trembling against him.
michael noticed instantly. the post-climax daze vanished from his eyes, and his entire demeanor shifted in a fraction of a second. all the rough aggression, the jealousy, and the dark pride completely melted away, replaced by an immediate, protective panic.
"sweetheart?" he murmured, his voice instantly dropping into a soft, worried caress.
he wrapped his large arms securely around her, pulling her close to his bare chest as he felt her shaking. one of his long hands came up to cradle the back of her head, while the other gently lifted her chin, forcing her to look up at him through the dark. his dark eyes were wide with genuine anxiety, searching her tear-stained face for answers.
"hey, hey... look at me. what's wrong?" michael whispered tenderly, his thumb gently wiping away the damp streaks on her cheeks. his heart was suddenly hammering against his ribs, but this time out of fear. "why are you crying? did i hurt you? tell me, please... you're scaring me."
the moment he asked, the dam completely broke. all the anxiety, the guilt, and the suffocating weight she had been carrying inside for months finally spilled over, and she just couldn't hold it back anymore. she buried her face in his bare chest, her hands clutching at his shoulders as the tears came faster, her voice coming out in a broken, trembling rush.
"i'm just... i'm so scared, michael," she sobbed out, the confession tearing from her throat before she could stop it. "i've been so terrified to start anything with you. every single time i look at you, every time i let myself feel how much i love you, i panic."
michael didn't say a word; he just held her tighter, his chest rising and falling heavily as he listened, his heart aching at the raw pain in her voice. He kissed the top of her head, soothing her silently, letting her get everything out.
"i'm so scared that everything is going to repeat itself," she choked out, looking up at him through her blurred vision, her eyes filled with a deep, devastating vulnerability. "my past relation... the way it ended, the way it ruined me. i'm terrified that if i let myself fully belong to you, it's all going to happen again. i can't survive that a second time, michael. i'm so scared that i'm going to lose you."
the raw honesty of her words hit him like a physical blow. the protective instinct in him flared up instantly, fierce and unyielding. michael didn't hesitate for a single second; he cupped her face gently in both of his large hands, using his thumbs to brush away the fresh tears, forcing her to look directly into his eyes so she could see the absolute sincerity burning inside them.
"hey, look at me," he murmured, his voice incredibly soft, yet completely solid and grounded. "look right at me, sweetheart. i am not him. and i am not going anywhere."
she squeezed her eyes shut as another fresh wave of tears spilled over, her voice dropping into a small, fragile whisper that completely broke his heart.
"that's why i kept pushing you away," she confessed, her fingers tightening into the fabric of his shirt as if she were trying to anchor herself. "that's why i wanted to just limit us to this... to these little adventures, these casual moments that didn't have a label. i kept telling myself that if it wasn't founded on anything real, if we didn't call it a relationship, then i'd be safe. i thought it would protect me if things went wrong."
she let out a shaky, exhausted breath, finally opening her eyes to look at him, her gaze completely raw and stripped of any armor.
"but it didn't protect me, michael. it just made me miserable. I'm so tired... I'm so incredibly tired of suffering, of being trapped by my own fear. i don't want to hide behind these walls anymore. i don't want to pretend. i just want to love you."
michael’s expression softened so deeply it looked like a physical ache. a low, tender breath escaped his lips as he leaned down, pressing his forehead gently against hers. he felt a profound wave of humility and fierce devotion wash over him; hearing her final surrender, her desire to just let go and love him, completely healed whatever lingering trace of jealousy he had left.
"oh, sweetheart..." he murmured, his hands moving from her face to wrap securely around her waist, pulling her flush against his chest so she could feel the steady, rapid beating of his heart. "you don't have to protect yourself from me. you're safe now. i've got you, and i'm never letting go."
michael held her even closer, pulling her completely into his warmth until there was no space left between them. he wrapped his long arms around her shoulders and lower back, rocking her gently in the quiet darkness of the room, letting the steady rhythm of his heartbeat soothe her frantic breathing.
"listen to me very carefully, okay?" he murmured, his voice incredibly soft, like a warm blanket wrapping around her. he leaned down and pressed a long, tender kiss against her wet temple, keeping his lips brushed against her skin as he spoke. "you don't ever have to be scared with me. i know you've been hurt, and i know how terrifying it is to give your heart to someone again. but i promise you, with everything that i am, everything is going to be alright."
he pulled back just enough to look into her eyes, his hands moving up to cup her face with absolute gentleness. gone was the aggressive, jealous man from before; his eyes were filled with nothing but pure, unadulterated devotion.
"i am not going to repeat the past, and i am never, ever going to ruin what we have," he whispered, his thumb wiping away the very last of her tears. "with me, you don't have to build any walls. you can just let go. I'm going to protect you, sweetheart. I'm going to take care of you every single day, and we're going to build something so beautiful, so solid, that nothing can ever break it."
he smiled gently, a small, reassuring curve of his lips that instantly made the dark room feel safe again.
"you just want to love? then let me love you back. just trust me. we're going to take it one step at a time, together. you're safe now, i promise."
without another word, michael slipped one arm securely beneath her knees and the other around her upper back, effortlessly lifting her up into his arms in a gentle bridal carry. she instinctively buried her face into the crook of his neck, her hands clinging to his bare shoulders as he carried her away from the cold wall and across the dark bedroom.
he walked over to the bed and carefully laid her down against the soft, mattress, pulling the plush duvet over her body to keep her warm. instead of pulling away, michael immediately climbed into the bed right beside her, shifting his weight to lie down and pull her flush against his side.
he gathered her back into his arms, resting her head comfortably on his chest while his long fingers gently stroked her hair.
"just let it all out, sweetheart," he murmured softly into the darkness, his voice a soothing, rhythmic whisper as his chest rose and fell beneath her cheek. "i'm right here. if you need to cry, just cry. i've got you."
he held her tightly, completely surrounding her with his warmth and creating a safe, quiet haven where she didn't have to be strong anymore, giving her all the space she needed to finally heal.
rested in the deep quiet of the bedroom, the heavy rise and fall of his chest beneath her cheek was the only sound for a long moment. michael kept his fingers moving through her hair, his touch incredibly light, but his eyes were fixed on the ceiling, dark with the weight of a truth he had been holding back for a very long time.
he let out a long, heavy breath, his chest shuddering slightly under her head.
"can i tell you something?" he whispered into the shadows, his voice dropping into a low, vulnerable rasp. "something i've never had the courage to say out loud?"
he didn't wait for her to answer, his hand coming down to gently squeeze her shoulder, drawing her just a fraction closer to him.
"i hated it," he confessed bluntly, the raw honesty in his voice cutting through the quiet room. "from the very first day, i absolutely hated that relationship you were in. every time i saw you with him, every time you spoke about him, it felt like a knife twisting right in my gut."
he paused, his fingers tightening slightly in her hair as the memory brought back a faint echo of that old, suffocating frustration.
"it wasn't just because i wanted you for myself—even though god knows i did," he murmured, leaning down to press his lips gently against the top of her head. "it was because i had to sit back and watch what it was doing to you. i saw the way it was draining your light, the way you were constantly carrying this heavy, quiet sadness around. i was so sick of it. i was so damn tired of seeing you suffer for someone who didn't even deserve to breathe the same air as you."
a soft, self-deprecating chuckle escaped his lips, a confession of his own desperation.
"i've never been a manipulative man, sweetheart... but with him, i swear i lost my mind sometimes. there were moments where i did everything i could think of, entirely on purpose, just to push the two of you apart. i'd drop hints, i'd create excuses to keep you away from him, i'd do whatever little things i could just to make that relationship crumble. i didn't care if it made me look bad in the dark. i just wanted it to end. i wanted you out of that prison so i could finally give you the happiness you deserved."
the silence stretched out between them, thick with the weight of everything they had finally laid bare. as michael’s confession hung in the shadows, a strange, heavy realization settled over both of them.
they had been trapped in a beautiful, chaotic cycle, spinning around each other for months. in their own way, they had been almost mutually toxic.
she had kept him at arm's length, intentionally reducing their deep, undeniable connection to fleeting, casual encounters—unintentionally torturing him with a calculated emotional distance just to build a fortress around her fractured heart. and he, driven by a desperate, suffocating need to save her, had crossed lines he never thought he’d cross, manipulating circumstances behind the scenes and letting his fierce jealousy bleed into pure possessiveness tonight against the wall.
but as she lay there listening to the steady, reassuring beat of his heart, they both understood the dark truth of it: every toxic move, every sharp edge, and every mind game had been born from a place of desperate survival. it was a twisted, backwards way of protecting one another. she had been trying to shield them both from a repeat of her tragic past, and he had been trying to tear down her prison walls before the misery could completely destroy her light.
"we really put each other through hell, didn't we?" she whispered into the dark, her voice trembling slightly as she tightened her grip on his torso, finally acknowledging the beautiful madness of how they had fought to survive.
michael let out a soft, rough sigh, his long fingers tracing gentle patterns along her spine as he pulled her even closer into his chest.
"maybe we did, sweetheart," he murmured against her hair, his voice dropping into a tender, unconditional promise. "but it was only because i couldn't let you drown. we don't have to fight like that anymore. we're on the same side now."
she lifted her head from his chest slightly, her eyes searching his face in the dim light of the bedroom. the tears had finally stopped, but her gaze was still fragile, carrying the heavy remnant of all those months of fear.
"can i really do it, michael?" she whispered, her voice small and tentative, breaking the quiet safety of the blankets. "can i really just start a completely new page... without constantly looking over my shoulder, without always worrying about my past ruining everything?"
michael didn't answer with words right away. instead, he shifted closer, his long fingers gently cupping the side of her face to tilt her head up. he leaned down and pressed his lips to hers in a deep, slow kiss. it wasn't like the desperate, frantic kisses from earlier against the wall; this one was tender, incredibly soft, and filled with a quiet, solid reassurance that seemed to pour directly into her soul.
when he finally pulled back just a fraction, his lips were still brushing against hers as he spoke, his breath warm and certain.
"yes," he murmured, his voice a steady, unbreakable promise in the dark. "yes, you can, sweetheart. the past doesn't get a say in this room anymore. we're writing the rest of the story together."
If anyone had told you that the sweetest, most soft-spoken superstar on the planet was secretly a ravenous, borderline-obsessive fiend behind closed doors, you would’ve laughed. But now? Shaking, sweating, and gripping the headboard of his massive master bed for dear life, you knew the terrifying truth.
Michael was a munch. A total, unapologetic eater.
"Michael, please," you gasped, your thighs twitching violently as his warm, heavy hands locked your hips in place. "I'm—I can't. I’m too sensitive, baby, stop—"
He didn't stop. He didn't even slow down. Michael just peeked up from between your legs, his damp curls clinging to his forehead, his lips glistening with your slick. His dark eyes were wide, blown-out, and completely shameless as he swiped his tongue slowly from the bottom of your slit all the way up to your aching clit, making you sob out loud.
"Shh," he murmured, his voice a deep, gravelly contrast to his usual high pitch. "I didn't say you could close your legs, beautiful. Keep 'em open for me. Let me taste how much you love me."
He was a perv, plain and simple. It didn't matter if you were trying to watch a movie, winding down after a long day, or literally just woke up; if Michael got a whiff of you, he was diving in. He treated your body like his personal, five-star buffet. He was highly olfactory, completely obsessed with the natural, warm scent of your skin, especially when your everyday scent mixed with your natural wetness. He’d bury his nose in your neck, trail his lips down your stomach, and just inhale deeply between your thighs before his tongue even touched you.
He had absolutely zero boundaries, too. If you were sitting on his lap while he was writing music, his large hands would inevitably slip under your skirt to check your moisture. If you were even a little wet, he’d instantly drop to his knees on the floor, pulling your panties to the side right there. He was so incredibly visual, preferring to turn on all the bedside lamps just so he could watch his long fingers parting your rich, folds, blending beautifully against your skin. He'd even pull your lips apart himself, whispering muffled, dirty praise like, "You taste so sweet, baby... look at how much you're leaking for me," as he swallowed every single drop.
"Michael, seriously, I'm going to pass out," you whined, trying to push his head away as a fresh wave of overstimulation hit you.
But he loved when you tried to fight it. He loved the control, often pulling your hips right over his face to anchor you down, whispering, "Smother me, baby. Don't be shy." Even after you’d just had a screaming, toe-curling orgasm and your legs were shaking like jelly, Michael’s greed knew no bounds. He’d wait barely thirty seconds—just long enough for you to catch your breath—before his tongue was right back on your swollen clit. As you cried out and tried to wriggle away, he simply pinned your wrists to the mattress, looking up at you with a dark, teasing smirk. "Just a little more, mama. I need to taste my baby"
bad ! era synopsis — the rivalry between you and michael runs deep until one hotel mishap brings you two closer than ever.
content — porn with plot, forced proximity, mean dom! michael and mean switch! reader, cursing, smut, p in v, aphrodisiac, hate sex, dry humping, unprotected, spanking, backshots, choking, riding, lowk brat tamer mike
As the industry’s queen, you didn't just top charts, you made them.
If you wore a certain outfit, it was gospel. If you gave an artist the cold shoulder, their career was essentially on life support. You were charming, yes, but it was a calculated, lethal kind of charm—the kind that you’d lose your mind trying to detect.
And then there was Michael.
For years, the two of you had been locked in a cold war that played out in the headlines. It was a cycle of petty war.
During a Rolling Stone interview, when asked about his latest hit, you hadn't even looked up from your manicure. "Oh, Michael's great," you’d said with a bored, sharp smile. "He’s doing a really impressive job of mimicking the production style I debuted two years ago. It’s sweet, like a little tribute act."
At the Grammys, you’d walked right past his table, deliberately spilling your champagne so that his handlers had to scramble to clean it up, offering nothing but a dead eyed, "Oops, my bad."
Michael didn't play nice, either. In a broadcasted acceptance speech, he’d thanked his team for keeping his music about "real soul" and not just "a pretty voice and PR stunts," a jab so blatant it made the morning headlines the next day.
The night of the International Music Awards, the tension was suffocating. You were draped in a beautifully tight dress, Michael across the aisle in a tailored suit that cost more than a house. You spent the entire ceremony trading glares; every time he caught you looking, he’d just raise a brow, or roll his eyes, completely unimpressed, which only made you want to scream.
By 2:00 AM, you were on your way to the hotel. Your team was exhausted, and you dismissed them with a flick of your wrist. "Go away. I need to sleep for a week."
You swiped your keycard, the light chirped green, and you kicked the door shut behind you, ready to peel off your makeup and collapse. But you stopped dead.
Michael was sitting on the edge of the bed, his jacket discarded on the floor, rubbing his temples as if he had the world's worst headache. He looked up, startled, his eyes wide.
"What the hell?" you breathed, staring at him like he was a roach in your kitchen.
Michael stood up, looking just as confused as you were. "What’re you doing here?" he asked, his voice rough. "This is my room."
"In your dreams, maybe," you snapped, waving your keycard at him. "This is my suite. I booked the penthouse. Get your shit and get out before I lose my mind."
"I booked the penthouse too, lady," he said, gesturing to his own room key on the nightstand. "I’ve been here for an hour."
You stormed toward him, your heels stabbing into the carpet. "Oh my God, I have absolutely zero desire to be breathing the same air as you right now. Get out you disgusting creep."
"Creep? Are you kidding me?" Michael walked over to the desk, his voice rising in genuine annoyance, dropping all that 'mean' act for a second. "I got here before you, Y/N. I didn't steal your fucking room."
"I’m not spending ten seconds in this room with you."
"You think I want to be stuck with you? You’re the last person I want to see after that shitshow of a ceremony."
You both stared at each other, the annoyance quickly curdling into genuine frustration. "This is a joke, right? Some kind of sick, twisted prank by the hotel?" You marched over to the bedside phone and slammed the receiver off the hook, dialing the front desk with aggressive, angry jabs.
"Yeah, hello?" you barked into the phone, not even waiting for a greeting. "There's a man in my room. A very annoying, very uninvited man. Fix this. Now."
You listened for a moment, your expression twisting into a mask of pure fury. You slammed the phone back down. "They’re 'lookin into it,'" you hissed at him. "Which means they have no clue what’s going on."
"Great," Michael sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Just great."
"We’re going to the front desk before I burn this entire Goddamn building down."you hissed, grabbing him by the arm and dragging him toward the door.
Downstairs, the front desk clerk looked like he wanted to jump out of a window. He frantically tapped at his computer while you paced in front of the desk, heels clicking hard against the marble floor.
"I’m so, SO sorry," the clerk stammered, his voice shaking. "There was a mishap in the reservation book. The entire hotel is booked for the award show. I have absolutely nothing left."
"I don’t give a shit if you have nothing left," you snarled, your patience completely shredded. "Find me a room, or I’ll have this hotel torn down by morning."
"The only other option is the Riverside Inn," the clerk whispered. "It’s... it’s a two-star motel on the edge of town."
Michael let out a dry, humorless laugh. "A two-star? You’re joking."
"I’m not staying in a dump like that," you snapped, turning to Michael. "Fix it. You’re the 'Global Icon,' right pretty boy? Use your influence…or dance or something. Whatever it is you do to get us a real room."
"Oh, sure, let me just snap my fingers and make a room appear," Michael shot back, his voice starting to lose its patience. "Don't act like this is my fault. I’m just as annoyed as you are, brat."
"Don't call me a brat, asshole," you hissed.
You both stood there, glaring at each other, the lobby staff watching in terrified silence. It was clear: you were too vain to leave, he was too exhausted, and both of you were too stubborn to admit that the only option left was to tolerate each other’s presence for the night.
You looked at Michael, then back at the terrified clerk, your jaw locked. "I hate you," you growled. "I hope you know I’m going to make this the most miserable night of your pathetic life."
Michael just sighed, turning toward the elevator. "Yeah, yeah. Save that bullshit for the cameras, princess."
The ride back to the penthouse was a study in controlled rage. You stood in the far corner, arms crossed tightly over your chest, vibrating with the kind of cold, sharp anger that usually sent assistants into early retirement. Michael stood by the doors, hands shoved deep into his pockets, staring at his own reflection with a jaw so tight it looked like it might shatter.
When the doors slid open, you didn't even wait for him.
"I take the bed," you said, not looking at him. "You take anything else. If I even hear you breathing, I’m calling the front desk and telling them you’re harassing me."
Michael walked past you, throwing his own jacket over the back of a velvet armchair. "That’s fine by me, Y/N. Just keep your stuff on your side of the room. I don't want your designer nonsense touching my things."
"My 'nonsense' is worth more than your lousy ass career, so keep your crusty hands off my stuff," you snapped, tossing your heels aside and watching as they narrowly missed his feet.
You were mid argument, deep in a heated debate over who got access to the walk in closet—"I need it to curate my looks," you argued, to which he replied, "I need it to actually unpack, not play dress up"—when a sharp knock echoed at the door.
It was a waiter, looking terrified as he wheeled in a silver cart laden with an extravagant spread of pastries, chocolate truffles, and exotic fruits drenched in thick honey. He stammered a frantic apology from the manager, desperate to appease both of you. You scoffed, eyeing the spread. "Tell them to keep the bum ass bribe."
Michael, however, stepped forward, offering the waiter a warm, polite smile that made you want to gag. "Thank you. This is very kind of them," he said smoothly, before the guy practically sprinted out of the room.
He picked up a small, honey glazed pastry, turning it over in his fingers. It smelled intoxicating—deep, floral, and strangely heavy. He took a bite, his expression shifting from polite to genuinely impressed. "You should try this, actually. It's not bad."
"I’m not gonna eat from a hotel that can't even book a room correctly," you said, but the smell was starting to worm its way into your senses, making your mouth water against your will.
"Suit yourself," he murmured, his voice sounding weirdly satisfied as he reached for another, smacking his lips as he chewed.
"Can you stop?" you groaned, leaning against the marble counter. "The smacking. It’s like listening to a wet sponge. It’s fucking repulsive."
"Shut up and try one," he countered, holding the plate out.
You grabbed a honey covered strawberry, mostly just to get him to shut up, and took a reluctant bite. The flavor hit you like a physical force. Sweet, intense, and wildly addictive. You hated it. You hated that it was the one of the best things you’d ever tasted, and you hated even more that he was watching you, waiting for your reaction.
"Good?" he asked, his voice low and smug.
"Fuck off," you muttered, though you were already reaching for another one.
An hour later, the room had gone quiet. The suite felt different—warmer, the air thicker. Michael had disappeared into the bathroom, the sound of the shower running providing a steady, rhythmic background to your boredom. You were sitting on the bed, robe pulled tight, watching a documentary on the television, but your focus was shattered.
A strange, prickling heat began to crawl up your spine. It was a slow, creeping tingle that made the fabric of your robe feel like sandpaper against your skin. Your heart rate spiked, a frantic, thumping rhythm that wouldn't slow down, and your hands felt unsteady as you reached for another fruit from the nightstand.
When the bathroom door finally opened, the tension in the room snapped into focus. Michael walked out, dressed in plain cotton pajamas that did nothing to hide the fact that he was looking just as frayed as you felt. He walked over and sat on the very edge of the bed, his back to you, his shoulders visibly tense.
He let out a long, ragged sigh, his head dropping back.
The sound irritated you to your core. "What’s your problem now?" you snapped, sitting up and pulling the robe tighter around your burning skin.
He didn't turn around. He just stared at the wall, his breathing noticeably heavy, his voice a low, strangled rasp. "Nothin’."
A heavy, suffocating silence filled the room. You watched him, your own breath hitching as a wave of heat flooded to your stomach, your thighs clenching together, desperate for relief. He shifted, his posture suddenly rigid, and you caught the flash of a distinct, thickening bulge in his pajamas that he was clearly struggling to hide.
He turned his head slightly, his eyes locking onto yours with a hazy, dark intensity. "Are you... are you feeling kinda hot?"
You tightened your grip on the blanket, your heart hammering so hard you were sure he could hear it. "A little," you lied, your voice breathless. The silence in the room was heavy. You went to the bathroom, your hands pressed against the cool tile, trying to wash the heat from your face. It was no use. Every shallow breath you took felt like you were inhaling honey—thick and intoxicating.
You walked back into the bedroom, your robe feeling like a weighted shackle. Michael was sitting on the edge of the bed. He didn’t look up, but the way his hands gripped the edge of the mattress told you everything.
"I can’t take this," you breathed, your voice trembling. The air felt thin. "I’m so hot."
"Me too," he rasped, his voice dropping an octave, raw and jagged. "We need to fix this."
He slowly looked up. His hair was a damp, messy wreck, and his eyes were dilated, black holes swallowing the dim light. He looked at you, really looked at you, and the way his gaze dragged over the slip of your robe made your stomach flip. You felt a deep, aching throb pulling at your core everything to do with the man sitting three feet away.
You didn't answer with words. You crossed the room in two strides, your movements fluid, and loomed over him. You reached out and shoved his chest, not hard, but enough to make him stumble back onto the mattress. "Move," you ordered.
He didn't fight you. He fell back, propping himself up on his elbows, watching you with a dangerous, hungry expectation. You climbed over him, the scent of the honeyed aphrodisiac radiating from his skin acting like a magnet. You straddled his hips, feeling the thick straining of his dick through his pajamas, and began to press down. You started moving against him, a slow, torturous grind that made his breath hitch.
“I can’t believe im doing this,” You gasp out, feeling his hands come up, gripping your waist with bruising force, his thumb digging into your hip as he moves you against him faster. “This is so gross.”
He let out a frustrated grunt as his hips stuttered forward, a clumsy, needy twitch, pressing his firmly against the center of your panties. He looked up at you, his eyes glassy and needy, his face a messy, dark crimson where a deep blush had spread over his cheeks, all the way to the tips of his ears. He looked completely undone by the simple feeling of you against him. "Shut the fuck up," he grits, though he didn't stop, his hips rolling forward seeking the heat and friction you offered. You let out a small, breathy sound he leaned into it, another buck of his hips sending a jolt through both of you.
His hand slipped between you, fingers finding the edge of your panties. You held your breath as he traced along the seam, teasing without entering. Teasing you before his fingers slid beneath the lace, finding you slick and ready. A low groan escaped his throat. "God, you’re s'wet for me."
"Don’t flatter yourself." But the heat on your cheeks betrayed you. His touch was skilled, knowing exactly where to press, how to curl. Your hips began moving against his hand, chasing the friction with uncontrollable hunger.
But it wasn’t enough to calm the heat. You grab his wrist, stilling his movements. His eyes widened in surprise. His pants came off in a tangle of fabric and impatience. He lay beneath you, fully exposed, letting you drink in the sight. Lean hips. Defined stomach. The way his chest rose and fell with shallow breaths as he watched you with anticipation.
You positioned yourself above him, feeling the tip press against your entrance. "Last..chance to back out," You pant.
He just smirked, hands resting on your hips as you slowly sinking down, every inch making your head fuzzy as you struggle to fully take him. The feeling was so overwhelming. His hands move to your thighs as you began to move, finding a rhythm that drove him deeper with each roll of your hips.
He threw his head back, a string of curses falling from his lips. He looked up at you with wide eyes, big hands moving to grip at every inch of your waist and hips.
You bit your lip, fighting back a smile as you look down at him, hands on his chest as you lazily roll your hips on his cock, his thick tip leaking deep inside your pussy.
"God... feels s'good," He babbles, voice shaky and lashes fluttering with every movement. His words encourage you to roll your hips faster, grinding his fat dick right against your cervix, wet squelching sounds harmonizing with his now louder whimpers.
His arms pull you down onto his chest, wrapping around you as he stuffs his face into your sweaty shoulder. His hips buck upward, creamy slick coating his length with every rut. The mixture creates an obscene glide between your bodies.
“Look at you—haah—moaning like a little bitch in heat.” You mock in between moans, letting out a small laugh as you grind against him, watching as his face scrunches up in pleasure, biting his lip to hold back from moaning. “Oh, you think that shit funny?” He grunts, letting out a frustrated, guttural sound and in one fluid motion, he flipped you, pinning you on your stomach beneath him. He was actually strong—terrifyingly so. He didn't waste time. He shoved his knee between your thighs, forcing them wider, his eyes burning with that familiar, hateful intensity.
"Awww, look at you. Such a mess f’me."
Michael’s hips rock forward, driving his dick as deep as it would go into your tight walls, you claw at the blanket every time he even pushes an inch further into your cunt, fucking you into the mattress with slow and purposeful strokes until you swore you felt him in your throat.
This man is must be trying to kill me, you think to yourself as you clutch the pillow beneath you, it slowly becoming stained with sweat, tears, smeared with your mascara and lip gloss, you're becoming a complete mess yet he shows no sign of letting up soon. He was having sweet revenge. Your arms started to waiver, no longer able to support your weight as Michael continued to pound into you from behind, one hand molding the flesh of your ass while the other hand rests at your waist, tugging you back against his hips, slender fingers splayed across your curves, keeping you right where he wanted you.
Another high pitched whine leaves your lips as the tip of his cock nudges right against your sweet spot, dropping your head against the pillow as pleasure ignites every nerve in your body till you felt as if you were burning. A low chuckle rumbles in his chest and you swear you could just feel his stupid fucking grin tugging at his lips as he watches you slowly but surely lose every coherent and bitchy thought in your mind.
"Fuck," he curses lowly, his hand gripping your ass a little tighter, his eyes glued to the way your cunt clenched around him, sucking him right back in whenever his hips drew backwards. "Ain’t got nothing to say now do you? Creamin' round me like a good girl. My dick that good, huh?" His hand moves to your throat, gripping it tightly, watching you gasp for air.
There's a sharp reply sitting in the back of your throat—God knows you wanted to get him off his high horse so badly — but even if you could talk, there's no point in arguing. No one has ever fucked you like this and he knows this. He had you hooked. There was no escaping for you now.
You honestly should’ve felt embarrassed by the sounds you were making, clenching around him like you don't want him to leave, to stop just yet, and Michael only feeds into it, leaning his body over yours, giving your ass a good couple of hard smacks before planting both of his arms at the sides of yours til you could feel the sweaty heat of him on your back.
A whimper bubbles up on your barely glossed lips, the rest of it smeared across your face from where you've been writhing against pillows and blankets. Michael grins against your skin— the feeling of his lips on you causes goosebumps to rise across your neck and shoulders before he plants wet kisses along them until he reaches your lips.
Michael pulls his chest away from your sticky back, his hand pushing down on the small of it while his other finds your puffy clit between your dripping folds. A scream tears in the column of your throat as he simultaneously pumps his throbbing cock into you and draws his name across your clit in tight movements. The combination has your mind in a frenzy, clouding with visions of lust as your thighs tremble and struggle to keep you up.
Juices roll down you thighs in thick waves, gathering around Michael’s cock in a frothy white mix the more he fucks into you — the wet pap, pap, pap of his balls against your cunt echoing throughout your bedroom. You glaze him in your arousal, smearing it up his pelvis and the fronts of his toned thighs. you make him a complete mess. "ffuck s’too much," you babble out, eyes rolling to the back out your head as you reach your hand behind you, finger tips pushing against his pelvis in a desperate effort to slow him down.
"You’re doing so well, though. Keep singing for me, mama, lemme hear you." He praises over your loud tune of kitten mewls, breathless pants and soft hiccups, feeling him reach for your arm and tossing it off him. You can feel yourself getting closer and he's not even fully inside of you. He can feel it too. But Michael doesn't falter, placing his foot on the bed as leverage to move his hips faster, harder— groaning deep between bared and gritted fangs while he watches your ass jiggle against his pelvis, shining with your slick. "You gonna cum, baby?"
“D-don’t fucking call me that,” you grit out, though he doesn’t really care for what you’re saying for the musician is already playing with your sensitive clit once again, drawing electrifying shapes against it and rubbing your juices back into your sex while you clench around his sloppy cock. The hotel mix up had to be one of the best accidents you've ever experienced, you think as you fall apart— eyes rolling far back into your skull while you clench and cream on him.
"Atta girl," Michael coos as you come down from your earth shattering high, a mess of weak bones and jelly legs in his arms. "You're so fucking disgusting," You pant, though your body says otherwise, clenching his dick with a vice like grip. "Get off me."
"Cant when you're dripping down my… and..., fuck," His words struggle to come out of his mouth as he cums hard, his entire body shuddering, pumping his thick load into you while you groan— partially at his audacity, but mostly at how full you feel.
The aftermath was a slow descent. You lay there, tangled in the disheveled sheets, your limbs feeling like weights. The room was deathly quiet, save for the ragged, synchronized gasping that filled the space between you. You were a mess—sore, flushed, and utterly breathless—yet your body was still humming with the lingering effects of the aphrodisiac.
He slowly pulls out, flipping you on your back so he could see your precious face, but his eyes drift back to your leaking pussy, watching a mix of your releases seep out of you and onto the starch sheets. You scrunch your face up at the feeling, your chest heaving, trying to gather the shredded remnants of your pride. "That," you rasped, your voice cracking as you struggled to sound dismissive, "was a disgusting mistake. I don't know what came over me, but it won't happen again."
Michael let out a low chuckle. He propped himself up on one elbow, his hair wild and his gaze dark with a triumphant, knowing amusement. He didn't say a word; he just leaned down, captured your chin in his hand, and tilted your head back. He kissed you—slow, deep, and impossibly possessive—until your stubborn resolve crumbled into nothingness, your fingers curling into his damp hair to pull him closer.
Just as you were spiraling back into his orbit, a sharp, polite knock rapped against the suite door.
"Ma’am?" a muffled voice called out. "I just wanted to inform you that we’ve managed to open up another premium suite if you’d like to relocate?"
You pulled back, chest heaving, and looked at Michael. You both went silent, staring at the door. You looked at each other—at the wreck of the room, the clothes strewn everywhere, and the heat still radiating off your skin.
"We're... we're fine," you called out, your voice sounding breathless and shy, a far cry from your usual cold, untouchable persona. "We'll stay here."
"Very well," the worker replied, their voice tight with suppressed excitement.
As the worker’s footsteps receded, they tiptoed down the hall to where a group of hotel staff had been huddled, holding their breath in the corridor. As soon as the worker rounded the corner, they let out a jubilant, hushed cheer.
"They totally fucked," the worker whispered, grinning at the manager, who was practically vibrating with relief. "The honey worked."
The manager leaned against the wall, fanning their face with a clipboard, a smug, brilliant smile spreading across their lips. In a desperate, high stakes gamble to save their jobs from your wrath, they had concocted the perfect dish—a blend of rare, potent ingredients they hoped would finally break the tension between the two most difficult stars on the planet. It hadn't just saved their jobs, it had changed the entire industry's dynamic overnight.
Back in the suite, you had no idea about the little plan. You just glared at Michael, who was currently pulling you closer to him as he laid back on the pillows, his smirk wider than ever.
"I still hate you," you mumbled into his chest.
"I know, baby," he murmured, his hands wandering back down to your waist, his eyes darkening as he was about to remind you once more why you weren't leaving that room. "I know."
[ oral m! n f! receiving , unprotected sex , pet names , teasing , uh idk what else , not proofread as always ]
ཐི♡ཋྀ ཐི♡ཋྀ ཐི♡ཋྀ
THE day of you and jackie’s wedding truly was nothing less than a fairytale. all the time and effort that went into it paid off, all the decorations and sage green with cream color schemes were aesthetically pleasing as you advanced down the aisle, tears brimming your waterline as you hooked around your fathers arm tighter. you were giddy with emotions as jackie stood just at the finish line in a sage green suit that complemented his dark skin. his curly hair afro picked to the gods above, sprinkles of flowers adoring the black curls from the flowers thrown overhead from the balcony—all by his brother michael and marlon.
the reception was magnificent, all the beautiful speeches from your siblings and his had you both in tears before the night was due to end. when Mrs. Jackson got to her feet with the aid of Jermaine, you immediately broke down, dabbing at your eyes profusely as jackie ran a soothing hand down your back.
“where do i start,” her older voice had softened even more over the years, nothing but pure happiness in her voice. “my oldest baby boy, sigmund—me and your father, we—we were worried about you for a long time.”
a round of laughter vibrated off the walls, making you chuckle too as you dabbed at the corner of your eyes with a cream colored napkin.
“—then you found this beautiful woman and we knew she’d keep you in check, because lord knows you wouldn’t listen to us.” katherine continued, folding her hands before her body as her eyes crinkled, her lips formed a big smile. “we are so proud of the man and woman you both have grown into. despite all odds, all the fights, all the everything,” she breathed as her own eyes started to gloss over, “life has shaped you both into beautiful gems, and we cannot wait to see how perfect you both come together to make a beautiful family.”
the room erupted into cheers as Mrs. Katherine sat back down, tears dotting her brown cheeks as she blew kisses to both of you. Jackie got to his feet first, helping you up next before you both descended from the stage to deliver kisses and hugs to each parent and sibling.
Michael held you tight, the little boy you had seen sprout into a teenager had bleary eyes, a little chuckle leaving his mouth as you playfully tugged at his ear. “be good, mikey. i’d hate to come rain hell fire on your ass~”
latoya, rebbie, and janet all held bouquets of flowers for you, offering such kind words as they hugged you. janet’s small frame hugged your legs tightly, begging you not to go with her stinky older brother, but to stay and play with her forever and ever. rebbie soothed the young girl, both of you smiling at one another as you took janet in a tight hug, some tears spilling into her flowery cream dress as you smoothed your hand down her back. latoya hugged you tight, releasing you at arms length as she held your shoulders, eyes stern yet firm. “you take care of my brother, ya hear?”
next was marlon and jermaine, the joker of the two had never looked more serious, his eyes were bloodshot, clear evidence of him being the biggest cry baby the entire wedding and reception. you threw your arms around him, soothing him as he cried what you assumed to be happy tears. jermaine held jay in one arm, slinking the other around you and marlon as he held you both. jay had taken ahold of you, soft babbles playing in your ear as he played with the flowers in your hair. you released the trio of men + boy with sad eyes, knowing the memories would be a distant indication of what used to be.
tito and randy we’re relentless in their hugs, passing you back and forth as they made jokes about giving you up. “gonna miss the shenanigans between you two,” you sighed, reminiscing on the good times; all the pranks, all the jokes…everything.
you and jackie swapped sides, the group hug his family engulfed him in made the strings of your heart pluck such a sad tune.
it felt like you were taking such a strong pillar from their foundation, you had never seen Mrs. Katherine or the boys so distraught.
cutting your eyes away from them, your own family engulfed you in a hug just the same. the warmth of everyone’s well wishes and never ending love held you so tight.
the reception had ended now, everyone walking away with teary eyes and heavy hearts as they placed their last kisses upon cheeks and wrapped arms around bodies until the next time.
the drive back to your newly wedded estate was a blissful one, both you and jackie caught up in a hearty silence. his fingers would run over the smoothness of your knuckles, getting stuck over that big ass rock that was now a permanent stone amongst your jewelry stack. he’d bring your hand up to his mouth and kiss, dark eyes hot and heavy as they lingered over your smaller figure in that damn sage green reception dress.
each street light jackie passed under illuminated something different, things he had noticed about your body before. things he now seen as a husband and not just a horny teenager going through life.
he took in your natural beauty, the way you didn’t even need makeup but wore it anyways because you wanted today to be perfect. but to jackie, you were already that and so much more.
jackie felt the overwhelming sensation to be better for you, because you deserved that. you stared out of the window, the golden hue of street lights in passing brightening your chocolate, dewy skin, humming along to the car radio, jackie felt tears brim in his eyes again.
the wheels of his rolls royce screeched into the garage of the martial home, “don’t move.” jackie commanded as he popped open the door, coming around to your side hastily.
he tugged open your door, sliding a hand around your back and underneath your bent legs, lifting you out with ease. your giggles in his ear were angelic as he held your body flush against his, carrying you up the windy stairs. he set you down momentarily, fishing the keys out of his suit pocket. the door sprung open, and over his shoulder you went, his massive hand hot against the plushness of your fat ass.
“sigmund esco jackson!” you yelped, a crimson hue erupting over your cheeks as he applied such relentless attacks against your backside. turning you into the dimly lit living room, he made sure to shut and lock the door up tight. setting the keys down on the table by the door as he advanced deeper into the well decorated house.
jackie gently laid you out on the massive king size bed, slotting between your hips as he caged you in. the curve of his nose was cold against your throat, his lips nipped at the exposed skin, hands knowing as he moved around your body.
“i love you a lot, you know that~?” he breathed into your throat after placing a kiss there. “i don’t think i really ever took into account how much i did.”
“oh jackie,” you cupped his face, your thumbs stroking his high cheekbones before you brought him to your level to peck his perfectly arched lips. “i love you lots, baby boy. thank you for everything, today was beautiful, your family was beautiful.”
he hummed in response, his thick curls suffocating you as he nuzzled into your neck. his fingers found purchase against your hips, bunching the material of your dress at your sides, displaying your chocolate thighs.
“they love you a lot too, sometimes i feel like they love you more than me.” he kissed the words down your body, moving down until his cheek was warm against your thigh. he looked up at you through hooded lids, his palms gently caressing the soft yet supple skin in tender circles, each motion guiding you down to his mouth.
“you’ve been such a wonderful figure for janet, for michael, randy and marlon. i couldn’t be more thankful for a woman like you.”
“o-oh,” his lips pressed chaste kisses against the gusset of your panties, nails holding firm to your heated skin as he lapped at your clit through your panties. “smell so good, taste even better.”
his finger hooked around the waistband of your panties, tugging them down until your glistening cunt was exposed to your handsome husband. he wasted not another moment wrapping his thick, plush lips around your clit, sucking up your slick like a starved man.
your knuckles curled into his tight curls, a blissful pleasure prickling the hairs all over your body. his strong hands held you open, his tongue lapping away at your clit like his life depended on being hydrated by the essence that leaked from your pretty pussy. jackie moaned into you, his jaws beginning to burn from the workout.
“jackie~ahh, please,” you keened, rolling your hips to meet his tongue, each stroke tightening the coil in your belly. once he slipped a finger inside, curling upwards, you lost all modesty. an animalistic cry left your throat, using his hair you guided him up down your slit, hips bouncing down onto his fingers as you rode out your first orgasm of the night. “fuck, yes, yes, yes~”
jackie panted against your cunt, his shoulders rising and falling frantically as he did his best to catch his breath. you sat straight up, eyes hazy as you did your best to calm down from the post nut bliss. your fingers went to work at unhooking his belt, tugging the chunky leather through the loops, letting it clink to the ground. you scooted to the end of the bed, wasting not another beat to pull his boxers down.
his cock sprung free, the dark mauve tip slapping against his belly. his mushroom tip leaked with clear, sticky fluid. jackie smoothed his palm over your dark curls, curling his fingers into the coiled strands as he jerked your head up to look at him. his eyes gleamed with want, a warning to not tease him or else.
you hugged the backs of his legs, drawing him closer to you before kitten licking his tip clean. his head lulled back, his grip tightening around your strands. you parted your lips wide, ushering his mushroom tip into the warm cavern of your mouth. you hollowed your cheeks, swirling your tongue around his head before creating a soft suction that made his knees buckle.
you released him from your mouth with a pop, spitting into your hands, wrapping your left one around his base as the other stroked up and down the shaft, curving over his tip. you went back to creating that soft suction that had him whimpering, bucking into your throat.
jackie stroked your cheek, encouraging you to take him deeper. with a mischievous glint in your eye, you did just that. widening your jaws and lapping at the underside of his heavy cock, you invited him to fuck your throat to his own rhythm.
your hands held firm to his legs, bracing for impact as he pulled out little by little, thrusting back and forth down your esophagus. the mix of his precum and saliva created obscene sounds, bubbles popping up around his dick as he fucked your throat faster, his voice going hoarse.
you stroked what wasn’t fitting into your mouth, reaching under to fondle his balls with care “oh, fuck, fuck, fuck—“ jackie hissed, “keep it up doll.”
his fingers curled into your shoulder, one using it as leverage as he hiked a leg onto the bed right. he thrusted one final time down your throat, body curling over himself as he emptied his hot load down your throat.
jackie’s stamina replenished in seconds, using his burst of energy to tear his dress shirt and jacket off his body. in a smooth, fluid motion you were bare before him, face down and ass up as he bear hugged your middle.
“sucking me off like that, such a dirty girl. speak so pretty but do shit like that, found me the one~” jackie praised, his hips canting into yours slowly. the drag of his heavy cock against your entrance made your head spin, you pushed back onto him, the tip spreading you just a little bit but not nearly enough.
“so impatient.”
“need you bad, daddy,” you mewled, circling your hips, feeling his hotness rest just between your folds. his hand took control, guiding his fat cock where you wanted. he split your gummy walls right open, both of you gasping at the sensation.
his palm corrected your arch, his chest slotting in behind you like a puzzle piece as he bottomed out. with one leg still hiked up, he brought your ass down to meet his pelvis, his face contorting into a blissful pleasure. you clamped around him like a vice, bouncing to meet his short thrusts. jackie had always made you beg for him, tonight was not one of those nights. you needed him something bad and you’d get it one way or another if you had to work for it until your legs burned.
jackie caught on to how needy you were quickly, reaching under you to rub circles around your clit as he snapped his hips up to meet your g-spot. his cock was heavy, the slow drag of his hips making you feel so heavy inside. another sharp snap upwards and you gushed around him, white puffing around his base as he pulled out. when he reintroduced himself again his tip kissed your cervix, each thrust after that making you cringe with pleasure as he flicked your sensitive bud.
“jackie, please, fuck me.” your voice was stern yet drastic, “i’ve been so good, please.”
he’d give you what you wanted tonight.
he braced, tightening his core as he rolled his hips into yours at a pace that had your eyes rolling. you bounced along the mattress, toes curling in the heels that hung on for dear life. his relentless attack against your clit and the fucking heaviness of his cock had you seeing stars.
“o-ooo, fuuuck,” you moaned with his grip on your ass, using it as leverage as he fucked deeper and deeper until the coil snapped and you were shaking under him, cumming all over his cock and the bed.
jackie wasn’t too far behind, shooting your womb with thick ropes of his cum. his body bent over yours, pressing hot kisses against your skin.
he stayed like that for a moment, your bodies breathing in tandem as he slowly pulled out. the mess you both made seeping into the sheets as he rolled to rest beside you, pulling you flush against him.
“goodnight, Mrs. Jackson,” he kissed the top of your head.
“goodnight Mr. Jackson,”
ཐི♡ཋྀ ཐི♡ཋྀ ཐི♡ཋྀ
a/n : thank you to @missharper33 for the recommendation! pls enjoy, i loved writing this!!
[ mad jackie , black reader , unprotected smut not really explained , roughness , fluff if u squint , uhhh das it i think , o pet names ]
.ᐟ. .ᐟ. .ᐟ.
JACKIE’S hands usually caressed your body so tenderly, making sure each part of you was blessed by his delicate touch. he worshipped you, more often than not. he couldn’t help but praise your divineness when he was so deep inside of you, down below such a much different story than the gentleness that resided.
his plump lips left not a piece of skin untouched, not a curl untucked as he kept your eyes trained on him. even when it felt too good, bliss erupting in fine bumps all over your skin as you neared your sweet release, he kept you with him, eyes low and full of that primal lust as he kept you zoned.
but when he was angry? that was a completely different man. he wasn’t gentle, and he never took his time. he was so rough with you, yanking and snatching you all over the place, giving not a moment to adjust to his larger size before he was splitting you open.
there were no sickly sweet words, no praises that had your cheeks hot. only the force of your body being fucked up the wall, jackie caging you in. the force of his chest pinning against yours taking all the air out of your lungs as your head spun, the lack of air becoming concerning.
once he had gotten to this level of angry he was blindsided, nothing around him mattered, just your tight hole he was abusing.
he’d change the position, pulling out of you so abruptly your legs nearly collapsed as he guided you by your bicep to the edge of the bed. he tossed your body over it, firm hands around a hip as he planted you just how he wanted you.
he thrusted so hard into you stars clouded behind your eyes, eyes rolling shut as you fought to keep quiet. your hands that were outstretched beside your body became pinned just above your ass, his other hand hot against your cheek as he fucked you down into the mattress.
in this state, jackie never cared if you came or not. once he got his, the relentless attack on your womb would subside, his hips slowing to a gradual pace as he emptied himself deep within. when he pulled out of you, a thick ring of white frothing just at his base, he watched your cunt twitch and ooze with his glaze.
your legs quivering, the slap he administered to your ass making you shudder.
aftercare meant a lot to jackie, and even in his angered state he always made sure to clean you up. he ran a hot bath, adding all sorts of epsom salts for the ache he knew was quick to set in. with furrowed brows, anger still deep in his chest, he held your hands, guiding you slowly to the bathroom.
you entered first, then he moved behind you. the water sloshed over the sides as he situated your body against his. your tired body didn’t move much, only lay, watching in silence as your limbs floated in the water. jackie rubbed your thighs under the soapy water, his breathing way more labored and controlled now rather than when he came in earlier.
“joe,” he started, struggling to find the words as he rubbed your tired legs aimlessly.
“i know baby, i know,” you breathed, a half smile adorning your tired features. “m’ not mad at you taking it out on me baby.”
“i should’ve been gentler. it’s not your fault.”
you shrugged, playing with the backs of his hands under the water. “it’s really okay jackie, i’ll be better in no time.”
jackie’s heart swelled in his chest. pressing a soft kiss just behind your ear, he lifted his arms to wrap tight around your body.
“don’t know what i’d do without you.”
.ᐟ. .ᐟ. .ᐟ.
a/n : that angsty michael request is still in the works. i have i think jackie and jermaine left and then ill be done with requests! feel free to send in more though!
[ vampire! michael , blood drinking , unprotected sex , rushed writing , oral f! receiving , black reader , uhhh not proof read , idk what else ]
( ´ཀ` ) ( ´ཀ` ) ( ´ཀ` )
IN the darkest parts of the dying light is when you seen him most.
long, slim fingers tapped the glass of your 2nd story window. each tap a signal, each strike a warning. you tore from bed, your long gown fluttering in silky strands behind you as you made haste to open the window.
the night creature hoisted himself up, planting both legs on your creaky bedroom floor. he turned on his boot clad heels, shutting and locking the window, drawing the dark curtain to hide the nighttime activities he came for.
blood red irises gleamed in the complete, and utter darkness. your vision blurred, trying to make sense of this. the fear that settled into your bones had you walking backwards, blindly reaching out to take ahold of anything.
your calves connected to something hard, down you were going until the warmness of his arms engulfed you. flush against the hardness of his chest, you rested. you took in his intoxicating scent, something woodsy, yet calming and sweet like vanilla.
“need you,” he breathed, voice just low enough to hum in your ears. it was more like a plea rather than a statement. “if you’ll let me.”
you nodded against his chest, all radical thinking falling to your feet as michael guided you to your massive bed in the center of the room. he planted you in the center, beginning to undress before you as the moonlight illuminated his striking features.
your thighs shut around nothing, a soft whimper leaving your mouth as he went agonizingly slow removing his belt from the loops. each notch a testament to his own strength. he could smell your arousal seeping into your panties, the gusset of them slick with need.
“need to taste first,” he said, “smell so good, baby.”
his hands guided your nightgown up your body, releasing the material briefly to hook both fingers around your panties. the slow drag of them down your thighs created a string of arousal, his dark eyes wide like saucers as he soaked up the sweet smell only you could radiate.
his movements faltered at your glistening cunt. his undead heart hammered against his ribcage, all the blood circulating downwards to support the boner that raged in his boxers.
michael hooked his arms under your parted thighs, guiding you down by the globes of your ass. the contrast of his cold palms, yet nails that burned as they penetrated your skin. pain from your split skin only added fuel to your fire, the smell of blood egging michael to hasten his movements.
he nipped at the exposed skin, pressing chaste kisses there before he found the perfect spot—just where your main artery traveled up the apex of your thigh. he nuzzled there, his curls tickling your inner thigh. his mouth parted as he clamped around the area, the stinging sensation of his teeth puncturing your soft skin as he drank.
his hips canted into the bed, the sickening slurp of suction he created to drain you of your pure life source was beyond greedy. he drew deeper into you, tightening his grasp on your affected leg to make the flow of red into his greedy mouth quicker.
you mewled into the dark, hands flying to his curls as he lapped at the blood source. michael had to will himself to release, his mouth coated in deep red as he kissed higher and higher until his lips were leaving blood stained kisses against your heated skin.
his tongue was excruciatingly slow to lap at your clit, barely delivering flicks of his tongue as you whined under him. your balled fist smacked the bed harshly, a strangled sound of frustration leaving your mouth as you arched up into him.
“michael—please,” you were beyond desperate, voice so high pitched that it hurt his ears. it egged him on though, encouraging him to create a suction against your most sensitive parts. your blood and arousal always made his head spin, this godly combo had stars shooting behind his stars as he sucked at your clit.
he drank your essence like a starved man, moaning into your pussy as he gasped for air, the relentless attack of his tongue burning his jaws. down he moved, his tongue licking at your entrance, sharp nose prodding at your clit rhythmically.
your mouth fell slack, his name echoing off the four walls like a church hymn. every estranged babble of yours went straight to his cock, his hips rolling harder into your mattress to rid of the gnawing ache that coiled in his belly. he was sure by now his nails were touching bone with how hard he was holding you in place.
he’d draw you right to the brink of your orgasm, sucking and slurping your life through your pussy as you twitched, hips canting against his wet mouth as he went absolutely mad devouring you. his reddened irises met yours through the valley of your breasts and alone at that you came again, his hands guiding your spazzing legs to rest against the bed as he moved to his full stature.
michael worked his fingers down the front of his dark wash jeans, the cool metal of his zipper bringing him back to earth after that mind blowing performance. your fucked out state beneath him was a sight for michael, one he wished he could always experience. the puncture marks of his teeth bruised your thigh, your dark skin puffing up in a series of dark purples and blues. the meatier parts trickled blood that stained your silk sheets, the shape of his sharpened nails etched into your skin like art strokes.
once michael was free from his jeans and boxers, he nudged your legs apart again with his knee, his massive hand wrapping around his fat dick as he guided himself to your pussy. he slotted himself between your hips, one hand planted besides them, the other parting you to split you open.
his hips rolled into yours, a gasp emitting from your lips as his fat tip began to part the sea of your gummy walls. michael moved up your body, coming down to rest on his elbows besides your head. his lips brushed your jaw, nose cold against the highest part of your cheek. he left sloppy wet kisses along your skin before his lips connected with yours.
the gentleness of his lips worked with yours in tandem, morphing so nicely.
he bottom out, all inches stuffed into you, little squeaks of discomfort forming into the kiss. michael moved a caged arm down, picking your legs up to wrap around him, he circled his hips slowly, doing his best to get you adjusted.
his lips found purchase against your throat, thick curls doused in his sweat tickling your shoulders as he pulled out, firmly thrusting back into you with a bit more force. your arms enclosed around him, nails pressing into his mahogany skin as your eyes shut tightly.
he spread you so good, the painful yet pleasant stretch of his fat cock against your gummy walls sent shivers down your spine. he held your side delicately, kisses peppered up and down the side of your throat before his sharpened teeth sunk into the jugular.
your mind went dizzy, fingers clutching onto his skin tightly with each rock of his hips. michael had always thought you tasted even better on the brink of an orgasm, the way your blood pumped into his mouth only fueled his hips to snap tighter, delivering skilled precision with each upward thrust.
he moaned against you, fondling your weakening state with care as he edged in and out you. the shrillness of your moans became cries, the blissful roll of of his wrath brought you so much pleasure, your body ticking and ticking until you were a bomb waiting to go off.
michael released your blood supply with a hiss, capturing your lips with his again. the metallic taste of your own blood made you sick but the delicious roll of his cock stroking every sensitive crevice of your walls had you feigning for more. your nails moved down his back, creating long tiger like stripes of love marks that would be healed by the first light.
he reached between your sweaty bodies, flicking your clit between his skilled fingers.
“michael, yes, yes, yes~please~i’m g-gonna cum!”
his hips snapped up, your back arching into his chest as you came. a white hot blurb attacked your vision, little white dots staining your eyes in the dark as you twitched violently, emptying everything you had to offer all over michael.
he didn’t stop chasing after his own orgasm, using your hole as his own little toy. each snap of his hips into hours sending hot tears down your cheeks as overstimulation set in. michael held your parted legs with tenderness, straightening his back to tower over you fully as he delivered thrust after thrust.
you trembled in his hold, clawing at just about anything you could.
sweat dripped down his bare chest, curls stuck to his forehead as his face contorted into something from a porno. he bounced you along his cock, the heavy drag of his dick against your womb made a coil tighten in your belly yet again. your fourth orgasm crept up on you, eyes rolling to the back of your brain as he used your legs as leverage.
michael’s movements stuttered, stomach tightening as his own orgasm rocked his world. he curled over you, pumping each hot, white load deeper into you as he came.
even with vampiric stamina he had his limits. you always took him there, draining him of his own supply as he did yours.
your dark skin was pale, even in the moonlight there was no glossy hue to you. “fuck,” michael murmured.
he bit two holes into his own wrist, guiding your mouth to open so the dark red blood would seep into you. little by little did you regain strength, the color blooming back into you.
“i’m sorry, i was way too rough.” he cradled you into him, “i was greedy.”
“i-it’s okay,” you slurred, loosely wrapping your arms around him. “had fun.”
his laugh was angelic to your ears, though the sound was somewhat drowned out by the loss of blood you had lost.
by the morning when you woke, he was gone. a note scribbled haphazardly to rest on your nightstand.
i’ll return 7 nights from tonight. i had fun, thank you for the opportunity. i love you lots, please find the time to rest well and be well replenished by the next time we meet. :) —Mj
pervy thriller!michael and his annoying unsubtle ways. if there’s a love interest needed in a music video, believe you’re the first name in contact. it’s gotten to the point where his team don’t even bother to look for a girl, they already know who his eye is set on. and he’s so annoyingly obvious too, everyone knows it’s just reason to kiss on you and feel you up!
and he’ll do a dozen takes under the guise of perfection, and although that’s partially true, he just wants an excuse to aid his fantasy. anything to relive the tension building in his abdomen and that ache throbbing at his girth.
pervy thriller!michael knowing you scare easily, and convincing you into watching a horror movie with him. and it’s all to watch you wiggle and squirm next to him, latch onto his chest or arm when the movie is too much for you to face. god forbid there’s a jump scare and you’re nearly leaping in his lap the way your entire body is scrunched against his. and he’s constantly sneaking glances at your cleavage whenever you jump in fear, watching the way they recoil and slightly spill over your top. mind you he’s scared too but saving face for the sake of perversion.
pervy thriller!michael intentionally wearing his short shorts low on his hips during the summertime so you can get a peak at his happy trail :3
pervy thriller!michael is always inviting you over for a sleepover, and of course at some point you gotta shower! he’ll stupidly ask la toya where you’ve wondered off too knowing damn well where you are, he just wants the satisfaction of the confirmation.
“she’s in the shower, michael.” her tone is flat and uninterested in whatever he’s plotting, not bothering to take her attention off of whatever task she’s invested in. and all he can do is hum in response, cause he’s already painting a scene of you in his rottenly perverted mind.
absolutely soaking wet, possibly sweaty from the heat of the shower. water rolling against the curves of your back and arching along the swell of your ass. thighs jiggling when you scrub against them with your washcloth, your eyes are probably closed in concentration making the task all the more intimate in his mind. and in the mist of feeding his wicked fantasy his senses finally catch on to the rose scented body wash that seeps through the crack of the bathroom door, and into nostrils. and he nearly whines when his girth begins to stiffen.
pervy thriller!michael assisting you in helping you out of your clothes, he’s only being a good friend. he can’t imagine how exhausted you are, there’s no way you could undress alone after a busy day! unzipping dresses, unbuckling belts, softly sliding off pantyhose, carefully slipping off shoes and he’s on one knee, staring though his lashes with his doe eyes. he even offers a foot message, a friendly one! he does it for everyone, he swears !!
pervy thriller!michael never failing to invite you to hayvenhurst for the summer, since you’re so close to the family n’ all. and he will sometimes catch glimpses of you by yourself in your element. maybe sunbathing in their back yard, laid in the grass. the shortest of shorts tuck themselves in between the nook of your ass, full thighs swallowing the fabric whole. your legs lazily swing in the air while you mindlessly read whatever book you’ve challenged yourself to finish for the summer. and like clockwork michael is staring—from afar. still inside, he peers at you through the window, nearly fogging the glass and ruining his vision with the way he’s panting.
his hand inches itself closer and closer to his aching bulge, hand twitches right above his tent before mentally bracing himself to place a firm and relieving palm over it. but like clockwork his bliss is interrupted with a nagging la toya, thank god his hack was faced to her, but the redness of his face didn’t go unnoticed.
Michael cant help but be loud :( you bouncing on his dick feels too good!
michael was sprawled out on the mattress, tears spilling down his cheeks as he lets out pathetic moans and whimpers.
you bounce up and down on his dick, his large hands grasping your hips like a life line. “T-that feels so good! oh my god… im-..”
“michael, shush.” you warn, grabbing his jaw. he let out a whiny sigh. “Cant help it.. feels too good.”
you place a hand over his mouth so he wouldn’t wake up the whole house, but even that proved to be a waste—his groans were just way too loud.
“you need to—“
“yn? michael? you guys okay in there?” His mother’s voice is heard from behind the door, making your hips still. Oh fuck.
You glare down at the pathetic man beneath you, removing your hand and mouthing ‘say yes.’
“Yes.. we’re okay m-mother.” his voice stammers over the name, mouth forming an ‘O’ as you roll your hips—you quickly slap your hand over his mouth again.
“Alright, if you say so.” Katherine says, her footsteps slowly fading.
you shake your head before stilling. “Mike did you just come?”
he nods slowly, his face flushed and sweaty. “you were warm.. couldn’t help it.
hiii I love the manager mike fics they absolutely kill menekekdijweb
I have a request if that’s okay !! maybe something from reader’s perspective where she’s just admiring michael, specifically for his age. ik he’s mentioned a lot not liking the gap between them, but the reader is just in love with michael yes but also the fact that he’s older b/c he’s established, knows how to treat a woman, secure, etc. maybe she shows him how grateful she is by sucking him off or riding him hehehehe thanks for considering <3
ꫂ❁ writes: first time writing from the reader’s perspective. even though i’ve been writing from 2nd pov for ye many years, it feels a little foreign lmao. i love writing from michael’s perspective, though, i think it’s so interesting to read his inner thoughts. oh well.
for context, this is set in 2014-ish. michael is turning 56, and you are in your late 20s-early 30s.
you knew he hated aging. it was something he had mentioned many times over interviews, his songs, private conversations…there was a deep longing to reconnect and heal his inner child, to live longer and experience all the wonders of innocence and goodness that he had yet to fully cover.
the worst of it came around when his 56th birthday crept up.
“i just don’t understand why you wouldn’t wanna celebrate it,” you mused, leaning on your forearms over the piano. “birthdays are super fun, and it doesn’t have to be a big bash, you know.”
michael peers up at you for a moment before settling his gaze down at the piano. he shakes his head a little, sadness pouring through his voice. “you know i don’t really do birthdays like that.”
you blinked. “you’re an ex-jehovah’s witness, though. and you’ve celebrated before.”
he shrugs, fingers idly hitting notes on the keyboard. “still. i always feel like i’m doin’ something wrong. i just celebrate with the kids now. that’s it.”
your fingers laced together tightly. “so i’m not invited, then?” it was meant as a joke, but michael’s head snapped up, wide-eyed as he shook his head.
“no, no, of course,” he replied quickly. he raised a hand to your face in surrender, and you laughed lightly as you unwound your fingers to lace them with his. he seemed tense, more so than usual.
“i’m just teasing, babe.” you smile reassuringly at him, teeth poking from under your lips. you give his hand a few squeezes before wrapping your other hand around it, warming his cold fingers. he let you.
“we don’t have to do anything crazy, like i said,” you try to steer the conversation to make him more comfortable, and his head drops to stare at the keyboard again. he’s avoiding your gaze. “just tell me what you wanna do for your 56th.”
his nose scrunches in slight disgust, and you catch the curve of his upper lip sneering at the thought. he pulls his hand away from you, back into his lap with a sigh. you feel a pang of rejection hit your heart, and you stiffen.
“michael…”
“nothing.” his smooth hair is covering his eyes as he shakes his head a little. “nothing.”
you let out a huff of slight exasperation through your nose, though you try to still the force of it. “why not?”
michael’s long index finger lifts up to drop down onto a deep note, reverberating his feelings. “i don’t wanna think about it.”
the note continues to echo throughout the room, the baritone of his soul. “think about what?”
he tilts his head away from you, and you catch his eye twitching a little. he shudders, actually shudders, at the thought of something, and you’re starting to think it’s you. you knew he was hesitant about the context of the relationship, how young you were compared to him, how the media might blow up once they caught wind of it (hadn’t happened yet, but you were both counting the days), and you were treading lightly with the romance.
if you could call it that.
michael jackson was still your manager, after all. and he wasn’t the first to get involved with a singer client.
“it’s stupid, just forget it, okay?” his voice is deep and sad.
you lift yourself off the piano a little, and you know he can see you out of the periphery of his eye, but he doesn’t move to look at you. your face is serious, and you try not to bite your lip as you study him. he’s not moving, frozen on the keyboard, as if he’s waiting for your reaction.
“can you be honest with me?” you ask quietly. the room is heavy with tension, and it’s bearing down on your head like humidity.
“hm?” he asks through clamped lips, and he is anything but nonchalant.
your nails absentmindedly pick at your cuticles while you peer downwards. it’s hard to talk to him when he’s like this, reserved, reclusive, hermited.
distrustful.
you take in a steadying breath. “is it me? is it my age?”
that’s when he finally snaps his gaze to stare deep into your eyes, and you see confusion. “what?”
his voice is suddenly loud, ringing throughout the room. it’s the first time he’s spoken up since you met at his house that afternoon.
it’s your turn to blink back at him. “what?”
“your age?” he questions with a squint of his eyes. “what does that—no…no, no, no, it has nothing to do with that.”
you crane your neck forward, hands outspread as you try to curb your upcoming attitude lodged in your throat. “so? what’s the problem?”
“it’s me.” michael jabs a finger into the center of his chest repeatedly, and he’s growing angry now. but not at you. “don’t you see? it’s me, it’s this–”
he glances down at his body for a moment and actively curls away, like he can’t crawl out of his own skin. he throws his head back and lets out a frustrated sigh, eyes locked onto the ceiling. they’re glossy with tears, tears he looks like he is trying to will away into thin air.
“i can’t stand it. i’m sorry.” he apologizes softly, swallowing away a visible lump in his throat. “it’s just that you…you’re so young, and beautiful, and so full of life. all these birthdays…every year. just….”
he can hardly speak, pausing every few words to blink slowly, his lashes wetting with tears, and he tries to take a few shaky breaths.
you wait for him to finish his thought, patiently standing by his side. he continues, “and god, don’t get me wrong, you’re the best thing that’s happened to me in a very long time. a very long time. i just can’t help but not want to celebrate how…old i’m getting. i don’t feel like my age.”
you smile, huffing a small laugh. “don’t look it, neither.” it’s meant as a compliment, but he closes his eyes slowly and clamps his rosy lips shut.
“don’t patronize me, fox.” he sighs, then sniffs once, heavily. “i know what i look like.”
your brows furrow. “and what do you think you look like?”
he opens his eyes to roll them to the side. “trust me, it’s not a ‘think’. it's an ‘i know’ situation.”
you bark out a laugh, startling him. “then, pardon my french, but you don’t know shit.”
he turns to you questioningly, sadness in his eyes, before you reach out and pull at his arms to tug him up. he rises with you, looking lost and broken, the biggest star in the world, feeling frail in your hands as you lead him away from the piano.
“where—”
“i’m curious,” you cut him off with a cheeky side glance. “if you’ve ever had your eyes checked.”
you can feel his heels dig a little into the ground as he skirts to a stop to your motions. you twist around and laugh as you bend in half to tug him closer to you. he looks hurt that you mentioned his obvious vision problem. “fox,” he starts.
“don’t insult me, michael,” you bite down on your bottom lip with a teasing look in your eye. “i think those reading glasses are the sexiest thing you’ve put on.”
michael loosens a little as he processes the information, letting you pull him towards the corner of the room again. “what?”
you smirk at him, tantalizingly swaying your hips as you go. “besides those golden pants, of course.”
he huffs out a hint of a laugh, shaking his head. “what are you on about, girl?”
you finally reach the corner of the room and square your shoulders, plopping michael in front of the large-scale mirror, leaning on a leg against the wall. he stares at himself; you can see his big eyes widen with curiosity as they meet yours in the reflection, still glossy with sadness.
“i want you to look at yourself,” you said softly, peeking from behind his broad shoulders. “and i want you to watch me. i want you to see yourself through my eyes.”
he shifts uncomfortably under your palms, and you can tell that he wants to fidget away from the mirror. his eyes trail from your reflection to the border of the mirror, looking away from anything that involves him. you squeeze his shoulders encouragingly.
“no,” you admonish him with a curl of your fingers digging into his skin. “look at yourself.”
he gives a small sigh, as if he’s done this before. he might recognize it as a self-love exercise, something he often preaches to you. but he has no idea what you have in store for him. he reluctantly meets your gaze in the reflection for a moment, waits for your slow nod, and he meets himself in the mirror. you can tell he’s struggling to study himself, and the critiques are showing in his eyes. every small wrinkle, curve, blemish, anything he felt was out of place.
you smooth your hands over his shoulders, warming him. “look at these shoulders. so resilient, so broad. they hold a lot of your pain, but also carry great strength, yes?”
when you plant a soft kiss on the corner of his trapezius, you feel he has no choice but to breathe out a complicit “yes” in response. you continue, your hands snaking around his midsection. your fingers graze a few ribs over the thin cloth, tickling him there to feel his shudder, and splaying wide hands over his torso.
“what a body,” you muse with admiration. your hands are traveling everywhere, and you feel his stomach jump under your touch. “dancing away, making people happy.”
his eyes soften watching you with lidded lashes. he doesn’t speak when your fingers trace a sly pattern from the dome of his belly button up the center of his chest. you think you can feel goosebumps rising on his skin, even though it’s the dead of summer.
“you’re just a beast on stage,” you ponder out loud, your voice a whisper.
you feel his breath hitch a little. “was,” he corrects you half-heartedly.
you smirk. “oh, you’re still a beast, my love.”
you watch his face scrunch up a little with baited anticipation as you point your fingers around his chest, nearing where his nipples might be, but not quite touching there. he exhales a sigh, and you can hear his voice crack a little. “i’m–”
you start to round his body, standing by his side rather than behind him as you eye his body with admiration. his posture is stiff and rigid again, and you can tell he feels a little exposed, though you’ve yet to take any clothing off him.
“what a man.” your eyes gleam at the words, and you don't mean to sound so ravenous, but it was disappointing to hear him talk about himself this way. as if he weren’t the most attractive soul in the world. “and you’re mine.”
you shake your head disbelievingly at the thought, and you can tell he is watching you stroke your hands up to his arm to clutch his biceps, massaging them. “my protector.”
michael shivers. you can see the pride slowly start to bloom in his chest as it puffs up a little at your words.
you slide your hands down to caress his wrists, rubbing a thumb over the protruding bone before tracing a nail down a prominent vein in the back of his hands. his large, thick hands. “don’t get me started on these hands. mm, the things they’ve done. created. made. illuminated.”
you trace over his skin adoringly, swiping the pad of your index finger over his knuckles, nails, and the underside of his palms. he’s clammy there, clearly still nervous, but intoxicated by your words. the exercise is working.
“you treat me so well,” you whisper, feeling a little hotter under your thin shirt. your face is now level with his, his eyes completely off the reflection and now piercing into yours. you forgot how intense his gaze could be, especially with those brown eyes dilated with desire.
it pleased you to see life in them. that little spark to grow into a raging flame.
“i try,” michael barely moves his lips as he talks, and if not for the proximity, you wouldn’t catch his words. “i’m a gentleman. you deserve that much. more.”
you know when he talks like this, voice low and raspy, he’s being genuine.
“and then some,” you keep his eyes with yours when your fingers pry open his hands to thread themselves into his hold. “you’re so chivalrous.”
you’re not sure why his eyebrows raising at you knowingly causes your heart to flip a little. “not dead?”
“no,” you laugh, inching closer to his face. “not with me.”
he tries to subtly wet his lips as he whispers “never” over your waiting mouth before placing a chaste kiss there. you inhale deeply, and the sound of his soft groan turns you on. you’re overly energized by his lack of self-love, desperate to show him what he means to you. his insecurities were a bullet hole that could not be slapped over with a band-aid.
he makes a slight noise of surprise when you push up your body into his, nudging him backwards. he breaks the kiss and your intertwined hands to clutch at your shoulders to steady himself, and gawks a little when you greedily grab the lower half of his back, fingers digging into the neck of his pants.
“whoa,” he says more to himself than to you. he blinks long lashes your way, but you’re already grinning like a fox as you continue to sashay both of your bodies towards the bed. “fox–”
“lay down, pretty boy.” you’re overcome with confidence, a lust you’ve yet to address in your relationship.
you can feel his laugh fall in his chest when you bring your hands around to his chest, lightly shoving him backwards onto the bed. his calves hit the mattress, then he’s falling with little grace, landing ass-first into the sheets. he blinks up at you in shock, not used to being manhandled. not for a very long time.
“pretty boy?” he snorts, but he’s obviously nervous.
“tell me i’m wrong,” you challenge. you’re standing between his legs, your knees knocking against his to spread them apart. it’s not meant to emasculate him, but his face collapses.
“you’re…” he stutters when you kick a foot under his heel, and he loses his footing, forced to prop himself on his elbows. “you’re wrong.”
you suck your teeth sharply, and he blinks, astonished at the sound. “god doesn’t like liars. what was that, the fourth commandment?”
michael laughs, actually laughs out loud. “there’s no such commandment, girl, what are you talking about?”
you shrug, a smug expression painted over your face as you kneel between his manspread. the argument dies in his throat as he watches you with widened eyes. “oh, well. i’m not that religious anyway.”
your palm smooths over his stomach, and you delight in the little jolts it gives beneath your touch. you keenly eye his center, and as if sensing your gaze, you spot a slight twitch beneath the material. you hear him try to speak, to form a word, but nothing aside from light groans spills from his lips when your hands trace down to his hips, and you start to unwrap him like a present. it’s all he can do, you know this with certainty as he watches you tug down the waistline of his pants over his hips.
“ah, wait–” michael objects weakly.
you hush him with soft lulls as you begin to palm him through his grey briefs. his head falls back with a long groan, soon stifled with a tight clamp of his lips. “fox, wait—”
“michael, look at me, or i’m stopping.” at that, he drags his head back to gaze down at you with cloudy eyes.
you continue to caress his bulge, thinning your fingers to feel the outline of his dick as it grows harder under your soft touches. he’s nearly whimpering in your hands, lower lip completely sucked into his teeth. “just look at you. the experience you have. you’re worried about me leaving or something?”
your reference to his size makes his hips jerk upwards. “for w-what?” he’s confused.
“for a younger man,” you hum. your free hand over his thigh forces his muscles down when they tense at the sentiment, and you smile up at him. “i’m gonna show you why that will never happen.”
with that, you leave no more room for discussion as your fingers deftly slip through the center flap to whip out his cock, already half-hard and leaking from the tip. he lets out a small yell as his upper body gives out, falling backwards onto the mattress as you stroke him fast, lips wrapped over his head. he hisses a little when you flick your tongue repeatedly over his head, dipping experimentally in and around the foreskin.
michael calls out your name, your real name, with a deep rasp in his voice. his large hands snap out to hold your head, and you slobber intentionally over the length. you know he can hear the obscene sounds because he squeaks like a mouse. you spit messily over his head, then hum gently as your glossy lips encompass his length, inch by inch, until his fat head taps the back of your throat and you gag.
you feel his upper body scramble up, and he tugs at your hair to pull you off him, concern stamped into his eyes. “are–”
that’s all he manages to spit out before your mouth magnetizes to his dick again, hands scooping his heavy length back into your mouth and you start to bob your head in earnest. michael whines a long note, pinching his nose and screwing his eyes shut as you start to suck him off. it’s raunchy and nasty and so raw. your nose continuously hits the base of his length, where the curls of his pubic hair tickle you. he’s spitting and stuttering over you, very overcome.
you’re suddenly shoved downwards as his heavy hands hold your head there, and he’s spilling into your throat in spurts. he’s jerking his hips fast, so fast the movements are almost small. all you can do is try to breathe through your nose in small bouts of succession as you gag over and over with his thrusts.
when he tugs you off him, you gulp down a few gasps of air. there’s a line of saliva and cum connecting your tongue and his glossy cock. he’s still twitching, his hips sinking into the mattress as he collapses backwards again. he’s breathing hard, and sweat is forming on his collarbone.
he brings a hand to his face. “what…what was that?”
you move quickly, breath laboring as you climb onto the bed to settle into his lap. he whisks his hand away from his face to peer at you incredulously. your baby hairs are askew as you bear a sweet smile down on him. “that was just the beginning.”
he’s still breathing very hard, you can feel his chest rising and falling as you wrap the hem of your shirt over your head and toss it somewhere to the side. no bra, you smile to yourself as his coffee-colored eyes immediately latch onto your breasts, nipples already hardening under his gaze.
“god, you’re so beautiful,” you moan over him, gyrating your clothed pussy over his still-hard cock. you unzip the side of your skirt to shimmy it over your torso and away from the bed. “you don’t even know, baby.”
michael is left writhing and gasping underneath you, sensitive from the aftershock of his orgasm. “baby, wait–”
you reach down to tug your thong to the side, exposing your leaking cunt to the air. your head dips to watch as your fingers scramble behind for his cock, reveling in his whine when you latch onto it. you fiddle with it a little, fitting the wet head in and around the juices of your pussy. the sensation over your clit makes your eyes flutter shut.
michael whines, a high-pitched, short sound that makes you shiver with delight. his hands are fisting at his sides, twisting into the sheets.
“michael, i need you,” you whimper, and you open your eyes to look into his. he’s enamored by the sight of you over him, the sun shining behind your body. “i need you to take me. like you always do. only you can do it, baby, please.”
he swallows when his hand reaches for his cock, bumping his knuckles into your fingertips when you both slide his cock into your heat. the warmth of the room amplifies when you lean forward to bump your forehead into his, moaning into his mouth when he returns your groans.
“oh, gooood,” he screws his eyes shut.
you start to rotate your hips over his, fingers tapping at his still-clothed stomach. “michael!”
his eyes fly open at his name. you crook two fingers into your eyes. “on me, baby. on me.”
he gapes at you, beads of sweat forming on the side of his temple. your hips gyrate smoothly, lower back recoiling at the jitter of your lower hairs tickling your clit. you nearly throw your head back as you start to bounce on him in earnest, tits jumping with you. his eyes are locked in, wasted at the sight of you.
his hands unravel from the sheets to clap over your hips, fingers digging into the fat of them. he’s holding onto you for support as you throw yourself up and down over his thick length. you can feel his thighs slowly coming up behind you as you fuck him into the sheets, and you muster the strength to speak again.
“c’mon, baby,” you groan out, grabbing at your breasts and squealing when you pinch the hardened peak. “fuck me, pump those pretty hips into me. just—aagh–please—”
the first warning you got was the sound of two pats on the bed behind you, the sound of his feet planting themselves firmly into the mattress before he squares his brows in concentration and slaps his hands over the small of your waist before it starts. you’re jolted forward, hands falling from your breasts to slam down on either side of his head when michael starts to fuck you in earnest.
your tits are jiggling in his face, and you can barely spot his tongue attempting to dart out to catch your nipple in his mouth as his hips patter up into yours. he’s fucking you like a young man, something you were spending all afternoon trying to show him. the gusto and spirit you wanted have now unleashed itself into a hungry beast, ready to ravage your body in the best way. and all you can do is bend over and take the consequence.
michael grits his teeth, gnashing them before snaking his full arms around your waist to haul you into his chest, angling your body into a more open position before he spreads his own thighs. he temporarily removes a hand from your side to lift and plop a stray breast into his waiting mouth, before bucking his hips back up into your cunt.
“aagh, unnghh!” you cry out. “michael, yes!”
it’s fueling him, you can tell from his clouded thinking, and his moan vibrates against your skin as he suckles your teat, lavishing his tongue around it and kissing when he can. his heavy balls are slapping against your ass as his hips make rapid pap, pap, pap sounds. you’re close, so close, as the sensation of your orgasm spreads over your body like an electrical current.
“yes, michael,” you sputter once he finally releases your breast and pants up at you. “god, you’re so good, such a—a man—, you’re mine, all mine—h-haagh!”
“yeah, yeah, yeah,” he’s rambling through whines and gritted teeth. “i’m–”
he shouts with you, stilling his hips into your core and you cum hard, clit throbbing. you shudder in his embrace, and he squeezes you tighter into his chest, hugging you as he whines out into the room. all you can feel is an overabundance of cum leaking out of you, and he’s still pumping his hips into yours, though more slowly.
you’re overstimulated, and so is he, but all either of you can do is stare into each other's eyes, and everything feels like it’s on fire. every nerve is screaming, and you can’t seem to look away.
he looks beyond beautiful, and for once, you can see the sentiment shared back. about both of you. there’s no disgust or doubt anymore.
he’s spent, and so are you when you fall into his arms, both of you breathing hard. your sweat drops onto his shirt, which is damp with perspiration and the stench of sex. his hair is now curling at the sides of his face, twisting into nonsensical letters. everything is wet, the bed, the clothes, your bodies, especially your connected nethers. no one moves for a bit, just heated faces and the sound of labored breathing in the room.
your head moves with the tandem of his breathing, and you feel the vibration of his voice in his chest when he says, “i haven’t…i haven’t fucked like that since…who knows.”
you bend an elbow to pinch his shirt, dabbing it into your face, where the sweat slowly stings your eyes. “eh, who cares.”
you hear him sniff. “clearly you do.”
your peals of laughter sound throughout the room, and you feel his arms start to unwind from your middle, though not letting you go completely. “only in the best ways.”
꧁⎝ 𓆩༺✧༻𓆪 ⎠꧂
ꫂ❁ thoughts from saff: sorry if this was a little sad in the beginning, but i like my rpf to be realistic in some way. otherwise, michael becomes a character and he was very real, very human.
also wtf sorry this took so long, im #failing in class and life now i think ao3 writing curse is coming my way
req sent by ? anon : hear me out…..dad’s best friend michael
❛ dbf!michael 𝑥 𝒻 black woc!reader ❜ ╱ 𝓶.list 𓂋 mdni . just to preface i made it clear that michael did notl know reader when she was a child , she was of age when they met and it's open to interpretation to who your father is , but just know he's famous ofc . invinciblel!michael . michael is perverted old man . age gap . reader is lowkey bratty . shitty hollywood boyfriend . cunnilingus . fingering . raw penetration . praising . a hint of mean!michael & cocky!michael. ℘ 1.554k
𝓻𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬⠀ ⠀𝐚𝐫𝐞⠀ ⠀𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝⠀!
dbf!michael . . . who met your father late in his career, like i'm talking around or just before invincible and they just instantly clicked. so when your father invites him over for dinner for the first time he of course can't deny.
dbf!michael . . . who thinks that you were a pretty gift sent just from him when he comes over for dinner, still standing in the foyer when you come easily skipping down the stairs, the setting sun creating a hazy glow around you from the bay windows.
dbf!michael . . . who keeps entertaining your conversations during dinner. wanting to hear anything from the the small acting gigs you've been trying to land since it's been something you've been passionate about pursuing for years but never doing until recently since your parents wanted you to get through school first. to you rambling on about the college courses you're taking at the moment, giggling when michael calls you a 'busy bee' for staying in school while pursuing acting. maybe he even engaged too far into you passion by making a promise that you could be an extra in one of his music videos, except he has i'll thoughts of wanting you to be the women protagonist and not just an extra.
dbf!michael . . . always reminding you to drop the formalities. that there's no need for mr. jackson or sir because he's just michael. even though you continue to accidentally slip up here and there to see how his eyes darken just a bit and have to readjust himself a few moments later.
dbf!michael . . . quickly becoming someone who you confide in whenever your parents make you upset because although he's friends with your dad, he's still older than both of your parents so you begin seek his approval more than theirs. being extra when you're telling michael about what they did this time to make you so upset by huffing, puffing, and whining into the phone. pressing your thighs together when michael says, "now is that really necessary, honey? hm?" on the other side of the phone.
along with that, dbf!michael being careful when you confide in him. because one wrong thing said that has you thinking he's siding with your parents has you hanging up the phone quickly without a goodbye, leaving michael to just shake his head and murmur out, "brat". but it's all in your best interest he tells you a few days later, the want, the need for you to remain safe and happy at all time. telling himself he only thinks this way because he's a father himself.
dbf!michael . . . who is beyond fond of indulging in praising you. any little thing you do gets an enthusiastic, "that's great" "good job, applehead" "'m proud of you" because he relishes in the way you squirm when he does so.
dbf!michael . . . who happened to spend a bit too long at your house one night with you dad that he was still there by the time you were doing your rounds of saying goodnight, just in time before your father saw him out the door. tipping his head down to peer past his glasses as you stand on your tippy toes to give your dad a hug and kiss on the cheek, body adorn in a silky matching pajama set. only you do the same with him, throwing your arms around his neck with such haste that he has no other option but for his large hands to wrap around your waist. taken a bake by the kiss laid near the corner of his lip and the whisper of, "goodnight, michael" against his ear.
dbf!michael . . . disapproving of you being seen out with a sleazy hollywood actor, so much so that distance is created between the two of you after you told him off about not being your father for him to disapprove of who you're dating. the jealousy seething through him when he comes over, trying to make a beeline to your father's study, but of course you have to be in the living room with your legs thrown over your boyfriend's lap while the two of you makeout while a random movie plays on the tv. and of course he's still there by the time he leaves, rolling his eyes when your boyfriend says, "holy shit, michael jackson is in your house, babe!".
and it really wasn't a shocker to dbf!michael when the news broke that the two of you had broken up. because he called it and he tried telling you he knows exactly what kind of man he was just to be shut up by your smart mouth, "and what kind of man are you?". what he didn't expect was for you to call him, still expecting the tension to be there after your guy's argument. met with a sniffles and a few small hiccups of you begging him to come over, "please? i don' wan' no one else but you."
it takes a special kind of man to deny you of what you want. so after a short silence from michael who's pinching the bridge of his nose and breathing through his nose to keep his composure, because he can't just can't be that man, "i'm on my way. gonna take good care of you."
dbf!michael . . . who know that this is wrong. for him to bend so easy at your beck and call. he knows how wrong this can look for him, a perverted old man and his friends daughter. but he tried for so long to not act out on it just for you to call him all needy babbling about how you need him and only him.
so when he makes it to your house, you're already standing outside, dressed in a short night slip that blows in the night breeze. meeting him halfway down the steps to throw yourself at him, familiar arms wrapping around his neck, but this time he allows his arms to fully embrace your waist, pushing your body flush against his.
"you have t' say it. i have to hear it from your lips," he says when your arms loosen enough for him to pull back and look you in your eyes. just to be met with the hazy glassiness of them, a hand coming up for his thumb to press and pull down gently at your bottom lip.
"i need you, michael."
dbf!michael . . . who follows you up the stairs to your room, the perfect peak of your panties underneath your night slip. biting his lips lips because he knows you did it on purpose, you always do.
dbf!michael . . . who closes your bedroom door with a soft click and you're met with the dark gaze of his when you turn around. still being close enough that all he has to do is just a stride forward for him to take you in his arms once again and kiss you with such urgency that you can't stifle back the whimper and the way your knees buckles. michael's tight grip on your hips keeping you upward, taking it upon him set to press your hips against his to feel his bulge to your pelvis.
dbf!michael . . . who shows you the kind of man he his when he's on his knees and your ass is perched on the edge of your bed. head thrown back in pleasure as your back arches off the bed while you use your arm to muffled your moans. michael watches intently, his gripping tightly into the plush of your thighs to keep your bottom half still enough while your upper half moves wildly. sucking at your puffy clit as a hand trails from your thigh, a finger circling your entrance before sinking into the warm heat. enticing a moan from you and hums from michael, who's still attached to your bud. a finger becomes two, and quickly enough your arch is frozen, eyes squeezed tightly shut and mouth agape, but nothing comes out, just the pulse and clench of your entrance around michael's fingers as you come.
dbf!michael . . . doing his diligence by putting you to bed when he placed your head gently against your pillows, the soft reassurance of "i know, baby" "know it's big, but you can take it, yeah?" "jus' tell me if it's too much, promise" now behind the both of you as michael fucks you into your mattress. sweetly pressing kisses at the tears fallen from the pleasure, whispering out "told ya' i was gonna take care of you" "let it out, i'm here now". to the stark contrast of his cooing at you mockingly when you're once again looking at him that hazy look, "feel too good, huh?" "bet he never made you feel like this. i know he didn't, he's just a scumbag who only cares about his own pleasure" "is it too much? thought you wanted it?"
dbf!michael . . . who whispers sweet nothings to you for the rest of the night, even when you're fast asleep until he has to leave just before the early sunrise. but not before he rummages to find one of your pink notepads, the ones with the little characters on them and one of your glittery pens to write a note for you left on your bedside table and a gentle kiss landed on your table.
pairing - college nerd! jaafar jackson x black fem!reader
rating - explicit (18+)
word count - 3.4k
summary - after finding jaafar’s journal, you have to find out for yourself if he’s really as innocent as everyone thinks.
warnings - smut, profanity, secrecy, invasion of privacy, he’s not as innocent as they said, you should’ve minded your business, obsessive thoughts, p in v, spitting, hair pulling, imagination and pet names, spanking, praise just filth
A/n: my first Jaafar fic i hope you all enjoy it! 😋
Jaafar’s dorm looked like it always did: textbooks everywhere, half-empty water bottles scattered around, and sketches covering half of his desk.
You’d been in his dorm for about twenty minutes while he went to look for the charger he swore he left in one of his friend’s rooms. The second the door shut behind him, your eyes drifted toward one of his dressers. One of the drawers was slightly open, just enough for you to catch sight of something black tucked inside.
You knew you probably shouldn’t look, but curiosity got the best of you. Rumors about Jaafar had always been weird. Half the girls on campus swore he was innocent to the point of being clueless, just some shy little architecture nerd who spent more time studying than doing anything else.
Before you could really think about it, you reached into the drawer and pulled the journal out.
The leather felt worn beneath your fingers, the edges softened like he’d opened it a hundred times before.
A bookmark stuck out near the middle. You hesitated for a second before flipping to that page and starting to read.
The very first line made your stomach tighten instantly.
You stared at the page, rereading it slower this time. Then it hit you the conversation from the other day.
You and your friend, laughing, talking about him without thinking much of it. Your stomach dropped as the words clicked into place. He wasn’t talking about some random girl. He was talking about you.
You swallowed hard, your fingers tightening around the edge of the journal. After a moment, you flipped to the next page anyway, too curious to see what else he had written about you.
There are pages and pages of more, each entry more explicit than the last. He describes you in vivid detail, the way you move, the sounds you'd make, the things he wants to do to your body every filthy scenario.
The door handle rattled, and you shoved the journal back into the drawer as quickly as you could, closing it, your heart in your ass as Jaafar stepped inside, holding the charger. You quickly tried to act normal.
“Found it,” he said, voice soft like always. But now you knew what lived behind that softness.
“Sorry it took so long. After I got the charger, I stopped to grab a drink,” he said. “The machine was out of my favorite, so I had to-” He stopped suddenly, his eyes landing on you.
Something flickered across his face. “You okay? You look… kinda flushed.”
“Ohhh, I’m fine,” you said too quickly. “It’s just a little hot in here, you know.”
He paused, studying you. His gaze flicked to the dresser drawer, now shut a little too neatly.
"You sure?" He pushed his glasses up his nose with one finger.
“Just thinking,” you said, trying to sound casual, as if you hadn’t just read about him wanting to fuck you.
His head tilted slightly. "About what?"
Your pulse hammered. The air in the room felt thicker. You were thinking about his words.
Oh … fuck it.
"About this," you said, reaching into the draw pulling the journal from its hiding spot.
His face went pale. His mouth opening and closing for a second he looked like a deer caught in headlights. "That's you shouldn't-"
"I read it." Your voice came out steadier than you expected, though your heart was pounding so hard you could hear it in your ears.
"All of it. Well, most of it.”
"That's private you know."
"Really?" You held the journal up, your thumb brushing over the worn leather. "Because it sounds like you've been thinking about me a lot. In very un-private ways."
His jaw tightened. For a long moment, he didn't say anything. Then he set the charger down as he took a step toward you.
"You think you know me," he said, his voice lower now, rougher. "You think I'm just the shy, nerdy guy who can't talk to girls. Who couldn't possibly have a single filthy thought in his head."
"I did think that," you admitted, your heart racing. "Until I found this."
He stopped in front of you, close enough that you could smell his cologne.
"So now you know." His hand reached out, and for a moment you thought he was going to take the journal. Instead, his fingers brushed against yours, trailing up your wrist.
"Now you know what I think about when I can't sleep. What I think about when you're sitting right next to me, laughing at something stupid, and all I can imagine is bending you over and fucking you until you scream."
Your breath hitched. Gosh, you wanted him to fuck you. His hand kept moving, sliding up your arm, over your shoulder, until his fingers tangled gently in the hair at the nape of your neck.
"Go ahead," he murmured, his thumb stroking the sensitive skin behind your ear. "Tease me. Laugh at me. Tell me I'm a pathetic pussy for writing all of that down instead of doing anything about it."
Suddenly, you felt the need to push him more.
“Everyone thinks you’re so innocent,” you said, throwing the journal down on the bed, trailing your hand down his arm and letting a hint of mockery slip into your voice.
“Sweet, shy Jaafar. You probably never even kissed a girl, right?” You paused, watching his reaction. “But here you are, writing about putting me through the mattress.”
His hand shot out and grabbed your wrist.
"Say that again?"
You smiled, feeling the thrill of pushing his buttons. "Sweet, shy Jaafar-"
He pulled you hard against his chest, his mouth crashing into yours. He kissed you all demanding, hungry, nothing like the shy boy who can barely hold eye contact. His hands weaved into your curls, his fingers twisting the strands pulling but not hard enough to hurt, but enough to let you know who's in control here.
“Bet,” he whispered against your lips. “I’m going to show your ass.”
“Yes, please,” you smirked, giving him all the consent he needed.
He effortlessly lifts you, your legs wrapping around his waist as he carries you to the bed. Thankfully, he had a full-sized bed, unlike those tiny ass dorm beds you couldn’t stand. You were so grateful that this college allowed you to choose different-sized beds.
"You talked about me too. I didn’t forget ," he says, climbing onto the bed after you, settling between your legs. "I heard you. The other day with your little friend. You said I was probably inexperienced."
"You think I'm all talk?" he said, pulling his belt free letting it drop to the floor. "You think I don't know what to do with a woman?"
He crawled onto the bed, positioning himself between your legs.
"Let me show you exactly what I've been writing about."
He grabbed the hem of your shirt and pulled it over your head in one motion. Then your bra, his fingers working the clasp with ease..
He bent down and took one of your nipples into his mouth, sucking hard while his thumb worked the other. The sensation shooting straight to your pussy.
"Fuck," you gasped.
“That’s just the beginning,” he mumbled, pulling back.
He worked his way down your body, kissing, biting, leaving marks. When he reached your pants, he unbuttoned them and tugged them down your legs, along with your panties.
He sat back, staring at you lying bare before him.
"Beautiful," he murmured. "Even better than I imagined."
He leaned forward, his mouth hovering inches from your pussy. "You're gonna taste so good."
But instead of diving in, he sat up again, reaching for his journal on the bed. He opened it to a marked page.
"I wrote this one down a few weeks ago," he said. " m’gonna show you how it goes."
He tossed the journal to the side, sliding his palms up the insides of your thighs, spreading you further until you were completely exposed to him.
Leaning in, he dragged his tongue in one long, slow stroke from your entrance up to your clit.
You gasped. He didn’t give you time to recover. He licked again, firmer this time, circling your clit with the tip of his tongue before sucking it between his lips. One hand stayed on your thigh, holding you open. The other slid two fingers through your slick and pushed inside without warning.
“Shit…Jaafar.”
His fingers curled, finding that spot inside you that made your vision blur. He pumped them steadily, tongue never stopping its attention to your clit.
“Put your hands above your head,” he said against your skin. “If you move them I’ll stop.”
You obeyed instantly, fingers twisting into the sheets above you. Jafaar rewarded you by adding a third finger, stretching you open while his tongue worked faster. The wet sounds filled the small room his mouth on you, your own desperate breathing, the slick slide of his fingers.
“You taste so fucking good,” he muttered. “Been wanting to bury my face here since the first time I saw you in those shorts. Thought about it every night. Jerked off coming all over my chest thinking about how you’d sound when I made you come on my tongue.”
Your back arched off the bed. The pressure was building so fast, coiling tight in your lower belly. Jaafar felt it. He sucked harder on your clit crooking his fingers just right.
“You gonna come already? Go ahead then. Let me feel it.”
Your thighs clamped around his head as the orgasm ripped through you, hips bucking against his mouth. He licked you through it, fingers still moving, drawing it out until you were shaking.
He slowly pulls his fingers out and brings them to his mouth, sucking on them. He makes a low, appreciative sound.
"Taste better than I imagined."
His chin was shiny with your slick. He wiped it with the back of his hand, eyes never leaving yours.
“Still with me?” he asked.
You nodded, breathless.
“Good because i wanna do more.”
He stood up and removed everything except his cardigan and shirt. He pushed his pants down, along with his boxers.
His cock sprung free, settling against his belly button, thick and already leaking at the tip. He wrapped a hand around the base and gave it a slow stroke as he hopped back on the bed.
The sight makes your mouth water. He's not small. Not by a long shot.
“See what you do to me?” he said. “Been hard since I walked in and saw you looking all guilty.”
He leaned down and spat directly onto your pussy. The warm saliva trickled down and he caught it with two fingers, pushing them back inside you.
“Look at this pretty pussy,” he murmured. “All puffy and wet, you’re so tight,” he said. “Gonna feel so good around my cock.”
He worked his fingers in and out a few more times, scissoring them to stretch you. Then he pulled them free and lined himself up.
He pushes in slowly, letting you feel every inch. He's bigger than you expected, stretching you in a way that borders on too much, but he doesn't stop until he's buried to the hilt.
Your hands fly up, gripping his shoulders.
“Fuck! Jaafar, you’re so big!” You mewl.
“I know, sweetheart, but you can take me.”
“Can’t you?” he asks, pausing for a moment.
“Yes, I can take it, pleaseeee.”
“Goddamn,” he groaned, biting his lip to stifle a whimper. “You’re squeezing me so tight. Like you don’t want to let me go.” He stills, letting you adjust.
"I've wanted this for so long," he murmurs. "Wanted you for so long. You have no idea what it was like watching you walk around.”
“Knowing I couldn’t have you, everyone thought I was too soft, too gentle to pull you.”
"But I'm not," he continues, his rhythm building. "I'm not gentle. I'm not soft. I'm the guy who's been fantasizing about fucking you into this mattress for months."
He reaches up and grabs your face, squishing your cheeks together.
“Tell me what you want,” he demands, his hips thrusting into you with urgency.
“I want you” you whined.
His speed picks up, each thrust harder than the last. The bed creaks beneath you. Your hands find the sheets once more, gripping them as he takes you apart.
"Tell me I'm innocent now," he growls, driving into you.
"Tell me I'm inexperienced."
You can barely form words. "You're not ah fuck-"
"That's right." He leans over, his mouth at your ear.
a/n: (if ykyk)
"I've been dreaming about having you in this position.”
He pulls out, and before you can protest, he's turning you over, pushing you onto your stomach. He grabs your hips, pulling them up, positioning you on your side.
As he moved you into position you had one knee bent forward, the other leg stretched straight.
Jaafar stays upright behind you on his knees. His cardigan brushing your lower back every time he shifts.
He grips the base of his cock and lines up again, pressing the swollen head against your entrance until it parts you.
He pushes in slow, letting you feel every ridge and vein stretch your walls. The angle from this height drives him straight forward instead of down so the pressure against your front walls build fast.
He bottoms out and holds there, hips flush to your ass. One hand stays planted on your hip. The other lifts and comes down hard across your right cheek. The slap cracks through the room. Heat blooms under your skin and you jerk forward moaning but his grip keeps you in place.
“Fuck,” he mutters, watching the print rise. He pulls back until only the head stays inside, then drives forward again.
“I love the way your ass jiggles.” You wiggle your ass in response, and he spanks you again, this time lower, catching the curve where your ass meets your thigh.
The sting mixes with the thick slide of his cock making you clench around him.
His knees stay planted wide for leverage. The wet sound of your pussy gripping him grows louder with each pass. He reaches down, spreading your cheeks with one hand, watching the way his cock disappeared inside you.
“Keep your leg up,” he says. You hook your top knee higher and he groans when the new angle lets him sink another half inch. His big palm cracks across your ass again, harder, the sound sharp. Your skin burns and you push back into the next thrust without thinking.
He leans forward, chest hovering over your back but never dropping his weight.
He pulls your hair next. His fingers gather your hair up into a makeshift ponytail, tugging your head back until your neck arches. The pull makes your spine curve. He uses the new angle to fuck you harder, the head of his cock dragging across that spongy spot inside you every stroke.
He spanks you again, open palm, right where the skin is already tender. Your ass jiggles under the impact, and he watches it ripple.
“Tell me how it feels.”
“Full,” you answer. “Deep, so deep.”
"You like that?" He was breathing hard, his lip tucked between his teeth.
"You like being taken like this? Like being treated like the filthy little fantasy you read about?"
“Yes, oh… Fuck, yes.”
“Right there,” you whine as he hits your g-spot.
"Yeah?" He focuses his thrusts, aiming for that spot. "Right there, Mama?"
"Yes, yes, fuck, Jaafar, right there."
He starts to move long, deep strokes that dragged against every sensitive spot inside you. You could feel the muscles in his thighs flexing against the backs of your legs.
Your mouth keeps falling open. You reach back and grab his wrist where he’s holding your hip.
He pulls almost all the way out, pauses, then slams back in until his hips smack your ass. The force rocks you forward. He does it again, slower this time, letting you feel every inch leave and return. Your walls flutter around him and he groans, low and rough.
“Gonna come if you keep squeezing me like that,” he warns.
“Then come,” you say. “I want it.”
He shakes his head once. “Not yet.” He leaves you empty for three long seconds, then pushes back in with one smooth stroke.
The sudden fullness makes you gasp. He spanks you twice quickly, left then right, the slaps landing on already heated skin.
“Fuck, listen to that creamy ass pussy you just creaming on me, baby,” he panted. “Taking every inch like you were made for it. Bet you’ve been thinking about this too, haven’t you? Wondering what it would feel like to have me buried in you.”
All that came out of your mouth were broken moans.
His glasses slide down his nose, and you reach back to push them up, settling the frames back into place.
“Thanks, baby.” He grunts out, hypnotized by the way your pussy is swallowing his cock.
He spits down, this time directly onto where you're joined, the wetness combining with where you're already slick. "That's fucking perfect," he groans.
He reaches down, grabs your ankle, and lifts your straight leg higher so your thighs open wider. The new position lets him bottom out completely.
He stops and flips you onto your back. His cock is still hard, glistening with your white slick. He hooks your legs over his shoulders, leaning down, folding you in half like a pretzel.
“Wanna see your pretty face closer,” he said.
He slid back inside with a smooth thrust. The new angle made him go so deep that you could swear you felt him in your throat. His pubic bone pressed against your clit with every stroke.
The little chain he always wore dangled in front of you, and you took that as an opportunity to suck it into your mouth while staring him dead in the eyes.
“You look so fucking sexy with my chain in your mouth. Fucking hell.”
As you held the chain in your mouth, he moaned, “Tell me how it feels.”
“So fucking good,” you managed. “Don’t stop please don’t stop.”
“I’m not stopping until you come on this cock,” he promised.
The filthy promise sent another wave of heat through you. Jaafar’s rhythm grew rougher.
You both didn’t care that people could hear you two outside the dorm. Now, they’ll finally know that he’s not all sweet and innocent. The wet sound of skin on skin filled the room.
"You have no idea how long I've wanted to hear you moan like that. To feel you clench around me. To watch your tits bounce while I fuck you senseless."
Another spank lands, this one lower, catching the side of your thigh. The sting travels straight to your pussy, and you clamp down around him. He curses under his breath and fucks you through the squeeze, his cock twitching inside you.
"Squeezing me so good, fuck," he grunted. "This is exactly what I fantasize about every night. You here in my room, taking me like a good girl."
You moaned, unable to form words. The pleasure was building, coiling tight in your belly.
"You like being fucked by the shy nerd, don't you?" he said, lightly slapping your face.
"The one everyone thinks is so damn inexperienced. Tell me how much you like it."
"I love it," you gasped. “You’re fucking me so good, shit.”
"Louder."
"I LOVE IT!"
He lowers his head, kissing you, swallowing your moans. His tongue slides against yours as he pulls back a little to bring his fingers down between your legs. More wetness spreads over your clit as he rubs it in, circles it with his thumb.
"So fucking nasty," you breathe.
"You like it."
He's right. You do. The wetness, the slick sound of his hand moving against you, the way his eyes watch his own fingers work.
He removes his fingers, placing them in his mouth, sucking his fingers clean.
“Tastes so fucking good.”
He pounds into you, faster, harder, and you can feel yourself tightening around him as he hits your sweet spot perfectly.
"I'm gonna—" you start.
"I know." He reaches down and presses on your lower stomach, right above where he's buried inside you. "I can feel it. You're squeezing me so fucking tight."
Your hands find his shoulders, digging into the fabric of his cardigan, the one he’s still wearing. The contrast is absurd: this nerdy, shy-looking boy in only a shirt and cardigan, fucking you into the mattress as if he’s been waiting for years.
"Come for me," he says, and his voice cracks on the last word, breaking the facade for just a second. "Please, I need to feel you come on my dick."
The please does it.
You come hard, your back arching, your nails digging into his shoulders through the wool. He keeps fucking you through it, drawing it out, and you can hear yourself making sounds you've never made before.
"That's it, that's it, fuck." He's close, you can tell by the way his rhythm stutters, the way his breath catches. "Where do you want it?" He was going to nut in you anyways, but he still wanted to ask you.
“I’m on the pill. In me.”
He comes with a groan that's almost a whimper, burying his face in your neck as he pumps into you.
You can feel him, hot and thick, filling you up, your walls clenching around him as he spills inside you. His whole body shaking from the force of it.
For a long moment neither of you moved. The only sounds were your ragged breathing and the distant noise of campus life outside the window.
"Holy shit," he murmurs against your skin.
He eases out carefully. A trickle of his cum follows, sliding down your spent pussy. He watches it with heavy-lidded eyes before reaching down and pushing it back inside you with two fingers.
“Keep that in there,” he said quietly. “Want you to feel it for the rest of the day.”
The lens of his glasses is fogged up. He collapses beside you, one arm draped over your waist.
You turned your head to look at him. “So… everyone’s wrong about you.”
i would love to see desperate/needy otw!mike being pervy while the reader is asleep like oml that would make me go crazy
hellloo i love this yes pervy otw mike is so yummy & you’re a genius because this is so ‘i can’t help it’ from otw coded! i got hella inspired ❤︎
cw: sexual content mdni, thigh fucking, reader is sleeping (somnophilia but no p in v), panty stealing, perv michael duh
michael had always been so dirty and he loved that you never seemed to notice. although you should’ve been more aware of how you ‘lost’ a pair of panties more often than like to admit. whenever you asked michael about it, he’d just plant a kiss on your head and say that you must’ve misplaced them. but he knew fully well that he had soaked pair after pair of your panties in his cum after jerking off with the fabric wrapped around his cock, swearing to himself to replace them but never got around to doing so.
one night you’d fallen asleep comfortably on his couch, head settled on his lap as his eyes focused on the tv. michael smoothed one hand over your hair, stroking it softly. he looked down and noticed your eyes were closed. you looked so sweet sleeping right in front of him, like a precious doll. he focused on the rise and fall of your chest each time you took a breath in your slumber. he noticed how soft your lips looked and how your hair cascaded over your shoulders so perfectly. you were wearing a baby pink nightgown adorned with white lace that fell over your body and curves just right. michael had to contain himself as he slipped the hem of your nightgown up to peek at the matching pink underwear you had on. he swear, he could eat you alive right now.
thankfully you were a deep sleeper, so you didn’t even flinch when michael moved your head from his lap to the couch. he stood up, eyes raking over your sleeping figure. “im sorry, baby…” he muttered out into the silence before undoing the button of his jeans and pulling down the zipper. “just can’t help it. you look so pretty,” he took out his cock, heavy in his hand as he stroked himself over you a few times with a groan.
his eyes settled on your plush thighs that were bare under your nightgown. “fuck, just lemme…” he breathed, pushing his dick between your soft thighs, biting his lip to hold back a moan at the euphoric feeling of your warm skin enveloping him. “oh—you feel so good baby,” he grunted, sliding his cock in and out until he was fucking your thighs harder than he intended, filling the room with soft groans and wet sounds. even in your sleep you had become a mess for him, all warm and sticky between your thighs. “always so good for me,” his thrusts became erratic, bringing a hand up to caress your face, “always so perfect— fuck im close, beautiful,” he managed to tell your dozing body before spilling his cum all over your thighs in thick spurts with a low groan.
michael froze as he felt you stir on the couch, “michael?” you called out in a sleepy voice. he cursed himself silently for not pocketing your panties before you woke up.
summary: a drunken night out causes michael to end up giving in to his sexual desires after several months of denying you due to his religious beliefs.
warnings: heavy smut, drunken sex (unprotected), virgin!michael (yes again), sub!michael towards the end, mentions of alcohol use, accidental creampie, both !m and !f oral receiving, soft dom!reader, religion & values, sloppy makeout sesh, themes of guilt, michael’s obsessed with your tittieeesss,
a/n: back with some dirty shit
— side note, this fic idea is not meant to take advantage of, disrespect, or exploit michael’s personal beliefs/religion! Any portrayals are wrote solely on the basis of fan-fiction. 🩷
𑣲masterlist/taglist
You & Michael are approximately 2 hours deep into this unexpected night, tipsy & staggered from the multiple drinks you’ve been bought from various people. Pulsing fluorescent lights reflect off your tanned skin as you move fluidly to the music, a sheen coat of sweat covering your bare arms from the humidity of the room.
Michael hadn’t been on the dance floor yet despite your pleas, he’s still a little shy even when he’s drunk. Instead, he’d prefer to watch you as he sat at the bar, sipping on some mysterious liquor Quincey had brought him. His thick curls stuck to his temples from everyone’s body heat pooling in the room, yet he still kept his flannel shirt buttoned up right to the top.
You’d look over your shoulder at him occasionally, relishing in the way he’d ogle at the lower half of your body with an unconscious bite of his lip. Or when he’d giggle around the rim of his glass when you’d gyrate your hips in his direction intentionally, showing off the curve of your ass in your jeans.
You’d love to tease him like that, testing his endurance. Michael was a faithful, religious man. He believed in the avoidance of sexual & lustful acts before marriage. He grew up around that motive all his life, especially with his family. But he’s an adult now with his own choices, yet he’s still stuck in the mindset of a 15 year old boy who has to follow the rules, or has to abide by what his parents taught him. He doesn’t fully realise he is his own man now, & his natural love for women doesn’t help.
He’d deny himself for months, stopping when things got too intimate with you, or made him feel something he didn’t know how to handle. It’s not like he didn’t want to, you’d feel the stiffness of his cock poke your thigh every time you two were making out, or even simply cuddling. But whenever you were just about to make it to the inside of his pants, he’d stop you politely, taking your hand away.
“Baby, not yet,” he’d always say.
Alas, being Michael’s girl was a positive experience. You got to live the upper-echelon life, such as being invited to private parties in Beverly Hills by people who worked alongside him. At first, Michael didn’t even want to go to this party, said it’s not his thing. You were in the middle, you wanted to get him out of his comfort zone & have fun for the night since you two weren’t up to much. In the end, you had convinced him enough to go, so here you were.
Michael turns his head, his trance broken as he hears a muffled voice call his name. It’s a trendy young man, probably successful or famous. He looks like he has money, though Michael doesn’t seem to know him. But of course, everyone knows Michael. The man’s smiling with all teeth, holding out his hand for a handshake.
Michael takes his hand immediately, smiling back as they share a quick & rough pat on the back.
“Love your music, man!” He shouts over the speakers.
Michael semi-yells a thank you that comes out louder & sloppier than expected. He averts his gaze back to you, already distracted by your femininity. Your hands flay in the air as your hair paints your face, you’re loving every second.
“That y'girl?” He shouts near Michael's ear.
Michael snaps his head at him & nods like he’s proud to say yes.
“Yeah, that’s my girl. Beautiful ain’t she?” He practically says to himself, his voice high and sweet. His half-lidded drunken eyes stay glued on you.
The man throws him a small nod of approval, a playful smirk on his face.
“Damn right she is. Treat her right, man. In both ways if y’know what I mean.” He laughs, nudging him.
Michael lets his words hang in the air for a few seconds before laughing back, not quite sure why he’s laughing. Deep down, he wants you so damn bad. He craves you, he hates that he can’t have you yet. He feels embarrassed that he can’t provide that side of intimacy to his girl as a man. But god, if he could, he knew that embarrassment would vanish in no time.
Before Michael could fully respond, the man was strutting away, yelling at someone else. What he said made something shift in his brain, giving him a surge of confidence. How can he sit away from something so beautiful? He tips the last drops of his drink down his throat before placing it on the bar table with a clank. You see him walk over to you on the dance floor with an anticipative yet hungry look on his face. Your face lights up in surprise as he gets closer, doing a reeling motion with your hands. He chuckles from slight embarrassment.
As soon as he reaches you he places his hands on the small of your waist, rubbing absentmindedly. He looks at you like you’re the only girl in his world, like you’re a gift from God. He leans down towards your ear, moving the hair away,
“I missed you.” He whispers hoarsely, you can smell the alcohol on his hot breath.
You feel heat pool to your cheeks, a small smile creeping up the edges of your glossy lips.
“I missed you too, finally decided to come over huh?”
You place your hands on his shoulders as you push yourself up to pepper a kiss on his cheek. The second your lips were about to touch his face, he turns his head to meet you in the middle for a messy kiss, stealing the air from your lungs. His breath hitches immediately, his brows furrowing as he pushes his body flush against yours, his hands growing tighter as they grab the fat of your hips.
He wastes no time in opening his mouth & wrapping his tongue around yours. His chest heaves as he tilts his head to the side, making an impossible attempt to deepen the kiss & get closer. You were caught off guard by his forwardness, he never usually initiated makeouts first, it was always you. You weren’t complaining though. You’d been waiting months for this energy, & now that is was finally here you were practically buzzing.
You sling your arms over his shoulders, connecting your hands around the back of his neck as you kiss him back with the same amount of desperation. The tips of your fingers play with his curls at the nape of his neck as you hum pleasantly on his lips.
You feel Michael’s breaths fall shallow, panting in your mouth as the same feeling he’d usually try to avoid starts to crescendo inside of him. That’s when you feel something hard poking on your thigh, you knew it was him.
You break the kiss breathlessly, a thin glistening line of your mixed salvia snapping.
“Michael—“ you mumble. You look down between his legs.
The sight before you has you frozen. His bulge swells beneath his brown courdroy pants as if it wants to escape, almost looking painful. His chest continues to rise & fall as he looks down, instinctively covering it with one hand.
“M’ sorry, just want you so bad. I don’t know why I feel like this tonight,” he says sloppily, his lips puffy & wet.
He can barely stand on two feet, constantly swaying from side to side. You giggle as you put your hands on his chest to steady him, the little circles you trace making him swallow. His eyes are glassy under the light, laced with this lust & neediness that you secretly love. You wanted to put him out of his misery so badly — but he’d never let you.
“How much did you drink tonight?” You tease, your voice as sweet as candy.
“A lot, I think.”
Your hands make your way to the top button of his shirt, attempting to undo it. His hand flies to yours to stop it.
“What are you doin'?” He giggles.
“Relax baby, It’s just so hot in here, are you not burning up in this?” you say smoothly.
You knew that wasn’t the only reason. You just wanted to loosen him up, step by step. He lets his hand down as he watches you undo his top button, then the second, then the third. His exposed chest glows under the fluorescent lights, deep & rich in color.
You run a hand along his bare skin, looking at him for any sign of discomfort. You don’t find any, for once he doesn’t look that nervous at all. His hands find your hips again, pulling you in against his frame as he gnaws on his bottom lip. He leans forward towards your neck, drawing in a deep inhale through his nose. Your sweet feminine scent drives him crazy. The way his warm breath gently grazes your neck gives you goosebumps. You squeeze your thighs as you feel your cunt start to pulsate.
“Do you always smell this lovely?” He whispers against you as he continues smelling your neck area like a feline.
“Baby, what’s gotten into you?” You chuckle.
You just stand there, letting him smother himself all over you. If you’re being honest, his sudden wave of confidence threw you off guard, now you’re the one all nervous.
You gently slide one of your hands in between your glued bodies, making your way to his thighs. Your other hand on his lower back. You caress one gently, the sensation immediately making him wince. He flutters his eyes shut as he leans forward to press his lips against yours, not knowing what to do with himself.
You both end up deepening the kiss, the sides of your mouth growing wet. He whimpers your name into your lips as if he’s physically struggling to contain something. He pulls away a mere inch just enough to murmur,
“God help me.”
You feel him lightly grab your hand, moving it lower & lower until it reaches his bulge. Your eyes shot up at him, twinkling with mischief. That’s the last thing you expected him to do.
His forehead falls onto yours as he presses your palm against his cock, rewarding a low & relieving groan from his throat. He feels like rock in your grasp, making you salivate. Thank god you’re practically in the dark. You can feel his entire shaft as if there's no material on it, that's how erect he is. You give it a singular stroke from bottom to top, causing his mouth to fall agape.
“Mikey—“
“Let’s go home, I’ll call a cab” he plants a kiss on your collarbone, then on your lips, “Please.”
This is the first time Michael’s ever made a move like that. That was the first time you’d ever felt him down there, your heart skipped a beat the second you touched it. You’ve dreamt of that moment for months, him being all needy for your touch.
Michael called a cab the second you agreed to leave, rushing outside as he held your hand tight. You didn't even get a chance to say goodbye to anyone, his first priority was to get you home.
You gave the cab driver a hard time when you got in. You were all over each other on the ride home. You were both already spent, breathless & hot as you rammed your tongues down each other's throats, occasionally missing due to the darkness of the backseat. You could tell Michael was still trying to keep things safe, only making out with you. Not touching your 'lady parts' or anything, as he would call them. His hands would tremble as he held your shoulders tight, pushing his face into yours. You slide your hands under his flannel shirt, running your hands over his taut n’ clammy abdomen.
Kissing was the only thing he knew, the only thing he could do without feeling sinful. So it makes sense why his kisses feel so heated & desperate, his body needs more, yet it’s like he’s only restricted himself for kissing.
The red light at the junction illuminates the back seat, temporarily revealing your faces to each other. Michael looks down at your chest, your breasts almost falling out of your skimpy little top. He gently touches your necklace hanging above your cleavage, swallowing the lump in his throat.
"So beautiful, you're heaven-sent." He says, his voice cracking from being unused for the past 20 minutes of straight kissing.
When the taxi finally pulled up outside the house, Michael was already reaching for the door handle before the engine had fully settled. He shot a look at you, his face full of nerves & anticipation. You couldn’t help the smile that crept up on your face.
“Thank you,” you tell the driver. Michael was already out the car in a hurry, waiting on you.
Neither of you said anything as you scurried onto the front porch, desperate to be alone together. Michael drops the keys as he tries to get the lock open as soon as possible.
You didn’t quite know what it was Michael was rushing for, you had an idea, yet it seemed completely unrealistic given his morals.
Finally, he manages to get the front door open, ushering you in first before shutting it behind him with a slam.
He places the keys on the console table, turning to you. He burries his face into your neck, his hands running down your thighs. You laugh breathlessly, looking down at the floor.
“You’re gonna have to tell me to stop cus’ I can’t keep my hands off you, I’m sorry.” Michael cooes, his pants feeling tighter around his crotch again.
Telling him to stop was the last thing on your mind, that would be absurd. You look up at him through your lashes, puckering your lips a little, toying with him.
“I like it,” you whisper.
You plant a kiss on the sweet spot of his neck. His scent is warm & alluring, notes of fresh soap, vanilla, & a night out. You twist your head more, opening your mouth as you let your tongue glide wetly against his supple skin.
He’s never been kissed on the neck by you before, so the feeling immediately makes him freeze & contract, his eyes threatening to roll back to his head.
“Oh my—“ He whimpers.
He pulls away before you can get into it, grabbing your both your hands.
“Come upstairs with me.” He asks you, his words slurred as he starts to pull you towards the stairs.
You both make it to your bedroom, but it’s pitch black. You hear Michael click the door shut. Neither of you say anything for a second, the tension is thick in the air. You feel your cunt start to dampen due to the anticipation.
You stumble across the floor towards where you think your bedside lamp would be, you find it & flip the switch. The lamp casts a dim amber atmosphere. As soon as Michael sees where you are, he walks towards you, guiding you to the bed by your waist.
He plops himself down on the mattress, keeping his hands on you firmly. You stand between his open legs as you stroke his head, he looked so cute like this. His big brown eyes stay fixed on yours, never faltering. He moves his hands higher up your waist so they’re sitting a little below your breasts.
“What is it you want, Mikey?” You say just below a whisper, tilting your head.
“I want you.”
His voice is laced with confusion, like he feels ashamed to even admit such an obvious thing. He can’t help his boyish urges, it’s only biological & one can only take so much before it cracks.
His hands travel to the bottom of your shirt, lifting it up to reveal your bare stomach. He plays with your belly button piercing first, giving it a little kiss. He continues to drag his face along your skin, his breath hitching as he peppers kisses at the same time, his lips felt burning hot against you.
You drop your head back slightly at the feeling, muttering his name as your hands stay in his hair.
He leans away, starting to pull up your shirt slow & steady. He looks at you as if to earn your approval. You hum in agreement as you help him lift your shirt off, leaving you in your white laced bra, your t-shirt forgotten on the floor.
Michael gawks at your plumpy breasts, his eyes darting back & fourth from them to your face, as if he can’t believe you’re real. The fit was a little too small for you, so the tops were on the verge of falling out which didn’t help him.
You reach around as you begin to unclasp your bra, startling him.
He looked like a deer in headlights, about to freak out or something. You place one hand on his cheek, stroking him with your thumb.
“You wanna see them?” You ask, your voice wooing him deeper.
Michael nods slowly, looking a little ashamed. He can’t even utter the courage to physically say yes, like if he does he’d be struck down.
You return your hand to your clasp, undoing it completely. Your full, perky breasts fall free once the material falls, sitting neatly in-front of his face while your nipples stiffen up from your arousal.
Michael’s gawks at them, his lips slightly parted. He didn’t know what to do with this sweet piece of ass in front of him, he couldn’t handle it. He’s never seen a naked woman in front of him before. Sure, he’d seen them when he’d flip through Playboy magazines in secret before he met you, but never in person. He’d always feel guilty for simply looking, or for the way his cock would twitch.
“They’re so pretty.”
“Thank you, honey. You can feel them if you want.” You reply.
You take his hands, pulling them up & placing them on your breasts. You let his hands go, allowing him to get used to the feeling. He wastes no time in rubbing & squeezing them, his pupils blown out as he looks at you, completely enamoured.
You watch him come undone every second that passes, his body becoming less stiff, more fluid & relaxed. Finally, his mental restraint snaps. He holds one in his hand as he leans forward, latching his mouth onto your right nipple with a warm, gentle pull & a swirl of his tongue. The sudden shock of pleasure draws a breath from your lungs, making your thighs clench.
“Oh my god Michael—“
His other hand reaches up, rolling your hard nub between his fingers in time with each wet pull of his mouth. He continues this for a few minutes, completely fine with doing it for hours.
He releases you from his mouth with a wet pop as you push him back onto the mattress. His belt buckle rattles as you fiddle to get it open. You manage to slide it off in one motion, throwing it behind you. You undo his button next, inching him to lift his hips up so you can remove his pants.
Michael grows impatient as he scurries to help you push them down to his thighs until you take over & pull them off completely. You feel your mouth start to salivate at the sight of his cock standing tall under his white boxers, the outline & shape clear as day.
Honestly, you didn’t expect him to look as big as he does. You wonder how it will even fit inside of you. The way it swells makes you pout, feeling even more obliged to put him out of his misery by milking him dry.
“You sure you wanna do this baby? We can stop y’know.” You reassure him, running your hands up his prickly thighs.
“Please, I don’t care anymore. I need you, God I need you. It hurts to say no to you.” He practically whimpers the words, dragging a hand over one of your breasts.
You automatically bite your lip at his desperation, moving your hands to the bottom of his shirt, lifting it over his head.
You grab the waistband of his boxers & start pulling them down slowly, his shaft revealing itself more & more the farther down they get. His cock springs free as soon as you get them completely off, slick pre-cum already pooling at the top of his head.
His cock was visibly perfect, his tip a deep mauve tone. Long veins were raised beneath the delicate skin, gently pulsating.
You feel Michael’s hand wrap around your hair, grabbing gently as he anticipates your mouth.
“Please, please—“ he begs.
You wrap your hand around the shaft, giving his tip a small kitten lick, lapping up his juices. The saltiness of his fluids made you hum, the vibrations sending him over the edge.
His body contracts the second your tongue touches him, lengthy groans ripping from his throat as he struggles to stay tame. One of his hands grips the sheets, his knuckles turning white as the other remains tangled in your hair.
You begin lowering your head, attempting to take him all in one go. Your nose grazes his pubic hair, his size causing soft gags to erupt from your throat.
“Ah—y-yes!” He cries, his eyes gradually making their way to the back of his head.
You couldn’t imagine how Michael must’ve been feeling right now, containing all that horniness for months only to get his cock sucked in the most vulgar way possible for the first time.
Trails of your saliva run down the sides of your mouth as you begin bobbing your head with a steady rhythm. You yourself were drunk, so keeping a rhythm & not sucking messily felt hard.
Michael’s hand guides your head up & down as if it has a mind of its own, not aware what he’s doing. He was too far gone, he’s entire body stiffened up from the intense pleasure you were giving him.
He opens his eyes as he rises his head up, looking at you worryingly.
“I feel something happening,” he warns as his abs start to clench. “If you stop now, it won’t count, right?” He barely manages to get the sentence out, his voice cracking.
You release him from your mouth with a pop, stroking him absentmindedly. You chuckle to yourself, he really thinks if you stop before he cums, this sinful act won’t count.
“It’s okay to want want me, Michael” You mewl.
He throws his head back on the sheets, accepting his defeat. His body still twitching as you stroke him.
You stand on your feet as you start to unbutton your jeans, sliding them down & off your feet. He sits up, sliding his hands across the hem of your lace panties before slowly pulling them down, watching the way your pussy reveals itself to him in awe.
Before you could do anything else, Michael presses his face into your glossy folds, holding your ass in place so you don’t fall.
A pornographic moan spills from your lips as you tip your head back, followed by your eyes. He moves his head down for a better angle, lapping & sucking up all your juices. His tongue swirls around your entrance, hitting your clit occasionally making you wince.
“More, please more—“
He flips you around onto the bed, immediately diving between your legs to continue feeding off you. You keep your legs open for him as he holds the backs, pushing them forward. He flattens his tongue against the bottom of your slit, dragging it all the way up with a groan. He continues doing that a few times for his own gain, sending you over the edge.
You pinch your eyes shut as you start to feel your thighs clench around nothing, a familiar sensation starting to grow in your lower belly.
“You’re gonna make me come if you don’t stop.” You moan out.
If anything, he speeds up. You tug at the sheets while the messy slurps from his drunken mouth bring you closer. Your breathing falls shallow, paired with little whimpers as the feeling grows stronger until it finally takes over you.
“Right there, y-yes, coming!”
Black spots cloud your vision, your thighs trembling in his grasp as the cord in your belly snaps. You’ve never came so hard in your life, it was almost painful.
Michael crawls on top of you like a cat as he brings you in for another kiss, addicted to your lips alone. You hold his face, his hands braced next to your head. You exhale as you feel his cock tap against your pussy, wanting to enter.
Michael moves himself up & down, his tip sliding against your slit beautifully. Both of you being so so wet makes the sliding easy, almost slipping in every now & then.
“Want it so bad, ma. Please say yes.” He whispers in your ear, his head resting on your shoulder as he continues dragging it along your slit.
“Take it baby, t’s all yours.”
You push his ass, slowly crowning his tip inside you. A bittersweet sting forms as he plunges himself deeper inside, every inch forcing a moan out of the both of you. You sling your hands around his shoulders, keeping your legs open as wide as possible in hopes he’ll fit completely.
“So—tight, God.” He breathes out, pushing the last inches inside.
Once he’s fully in, he’s already panting, the feeling of your warmth wrapped around him making him weak. He takes a minute to get used to the feeling before starting to move. A few seconds pass & he starts moving, dragging his cock fully out before plunging back in.
Your breasts move beneath him with each gentle thrust, making him latch mouth onto one momentarily, greedy to have every part of you at once. His cock hits your g-spot perfectly with precision every second, you honestly felt like you could cum at any moment if you let yourself.
It doesn’t take much longer before he’s speeding up, the slick plaps of skin meeting skin starting to creep up the harder he goes. A sweet, foamy ring of white starts to form around the base of his cock with each thrust.
Michael would rather keep his eyes open to look at your pretty little face, yet he finds it very hard. His eyes are pressed shut, trying to hide from the sinful reality. His face dug into your neck as he mumbles gibberish to himself, completely pussy whipped.
“Feels—good Mikey, you feel so fucking good.” You say, your voice jumping from his searing thrusts.
You feel his tongue graze your neck as his mouth opens, attempting to respond but to no avail.
He continues snapping his hips into you, his pelvis hitting your clit perfectly every-time. Not one second goes by where you don’t feel pleasure, it’s trapping you.
You feel him swell larger inside of you, knowing he must be close. He lifts himself up, holding your hips to push himself into you impossibly deeper.
“Fuck! Right there!” You cry out, the head of his cock abusing your sweet spot even more than before.
“Yeah? Right there?” He breathes out, forcing his cock to continue plunging into you at the same spot that made you cry out. At this point, he’s getting off on you more than his own pleasure.
You nod furiously, your face screwed up in pleasure as you were unable to form words.
“I feel it, y’ gonna make me come—,” He pants, his eyes practically watering as they stare at you for support.
You manage to reach down to try & grab him, forgetting you weren’t wearing any protection.
“You have to pull out baby, you’ll get me pregnant—”
There’s no sense of urgency in your voice, you were too consumed & wrapped up in the feeling he was giving you. Part of you didn’t even care, all you knew was now.
Michael’s thrusts start to become sloppy & erratic, his release only seconds away as his body begins to stiffen up, his thighs shaking.
The sudden change in his thrusts caused you to cum again suddenly. Your walls strangle him as you cry into your hand. The neighbours never entered your mind once.
The tightness of your unexpected orgasm catches him off guard, tipping him over the edge.
“Fuck, m’ sorry, I’m sorry—“
His hips snap into you one last time before he freezes, his warm seed spilling inside of you, painting your walls. His body falls limp as he flops down onto your chest, drawing out a long singular strangled moan into your cleavage, followed by little high pitch whimpers. The sensation of him filling you up makes you whine, definitely one of your guilty pleasures.
After a few minutes of breaths being caught, he lifts his hips, pulling his flaccid length out of you. His thick white release drips out instantly, pooling between your ass. You watch the colour drain out of his face as he stares between your legs. He reaches forward, rubbing the fluid between his fingers.
“How do you feel about being a daddy?"
a/n: can you guys tell i've been in heat this week?
