lullora!!! I was wondering if you could write a little blurb with mike x reader sleeping skin to skinnn..? 🫣 not really in a sexual sense but more of like I’m so in love with you and I just wanna be so close to you. (Ofc u can take it in any direction u want since im in love with your writing) Like extra yearner micheal ugh I can already imagine it. Anyways I’m asking you bc I feel like you’re the only one who I trust with capturing it right! Love ya pooks and I would love u a little extra if u did this! Pretty please with a cherry on top <3
— I CAN’T HELP IT
SYNOPSIS; you & michael cuddling and falling asleep together butt naked because he loves skin on skin :p (pretty much just fluff, no warnings)
WORD COUNT; 798
NOTE; thank you for your request, this is so sweet! i hope you enjoy this and it lives up to what you were hoping for babe 💕 love ya. masterlist can be found here.
Michael told you to take everything off. Not with heat or hunger behind it, though you could see the want flickering in his eyes the way it always did, the way it never fully went away when he looked at you.
He was already shirtless, already in those thin grey sweatpants he slept in that sat low on his hips and he was pulling back the sheets on your side of the bed, smoothing the fabric with his palm like he was making a place for something precious.
You stood there watching him and he looked up at you with that expression, the one where his eyes went soft and his lips parted. He tilted his head just slightly, like you were the only thing in the room worth seeing.
“All of it?” You asked, already reaching for the hem of your shirt.
“All of it.” He spoke, nodding toward the bed, his voice low and easy. “I wanna feel you, c’mon.”
You pulled the shirt over your head and stepped out of your underwear, his eyes moving over you slowly, not hungry this time but something else, like he was settling into the sight of you.
“C’mere.” He spoke as he lifted the sheets, waiting for you to join him.
You trailed over to Michael and he pulled you into bed like he’d rehearsed it, one arm sliding beneath your shoulders, the other wrapping around your waist. He drew you in until your bare chest met his and there was nothing between you, no fabric, no pretense, just skin on skin, your heartbeat pressed against his like two clocks trying to sync.
He shifted, adjusting himself, his leg sliding between yours so that your bodies were tangled together in a way that left no room for anything except closeness. His chin rested on top of your head, his breath warm and slow against your hair, his fingers tracing lazy paths down your spine like he was writing something there.
“You feel that?” He murmured against your temple, his lips barely touching your skin.
You did, you felt everything, the warmth of him seeping into your bones, the rise and fall of his chest matching yours, the way his heartbeat was right there, right beneath your ear. You pressed closer, your body curving into his like it was made for this.
“Mhmmm..” You hummed against his collarbone and his arm tightened around you.
“That thing you do…” He whispered, his voice dropping like he was telling you a secret. “That little sound, right against my skin like that, I swear, baby…”
“What thing?”
“Just... that. You don’t even know you’re doing it.” He pressed his lips to your forehead, staying there a moment. “It’s my favourite thing.”
You tilted your face up to look at him, to see his eyes half-closed, his lashes casting shadows on his cheekbones, his lips parted just enough that you could feel the warmth of his exhale against your mouth.
He opened his eyes, gazing down at you and what you saw there wasn’t lust, wasn’t desire, wasn’t anything that had a name you’d learned yet, it was something reverent, something that swallowed him whole.
“I keep trying to get closer…” He spoke quietly, almost like he was embarrassed. “Like holding you isn’t enough… like I need to be inside your skin or something. Does that sound crazy?”
“No.” You whispered. “I know what you mean.”
“Good.” He swallowed, his throat working. His fingers found the small of your back, pressing flat, pulling you in tighter. “Just... stay right here, okay?”
“Where would I go?”
“I don’t know, baby… nowhere, I just…” He trailed off, burying his face in your neck, his words muffled against your skin. “I love you.”
“I love you too.” You giggled and his arms tightened like the sound itself was something he wanted to hold onto. You stayed while his breathing deepened, while his warm fingers stopped their tracing and settled on your waist, his body growing heavier against yours.
You stayed while you felt him falling asleep, felt the exact moment his grip loosened, the exact moment his exhale went long and even. You pressed your lips to his collarbone because you couldn’t help it, because he was asleep now and couldn’t see the way your face crumpled, couldn’t see the tears that gathered at the corners of your eyes, not from sadness, not from anything except the unbearable fullness of being this loved, of being held this carefully, of being someone’s entire world pressed against their chest in the dark.
You fell asleep like that, skin to skin, wrapped in each other so tightly that when morning came and the light crept through the curtains, neither of you could tell where one body ended and the other began.
summary: michael makes love to you, unprotected, for the first time
warning: smut, 18+, unprotected sex, p-in-v, handjob, fingering, creampie, use of ‘mama’ ‘baby’ ‘sweetheart’ ‘tink/tinka’, established relationship
author’s note: decided to switch up my style, and i really like it! heavily inspired by @/michaeldiary (not sure if she’d want to be directly tagged but go check out her amazing work!)
Michael had been dreaming about making love to you, unprotected, since the very beginning of your relationship.
He hated to admit it—as he felt blasphemous and crude for thinking about his lady in such a way—but it was the lewd truth. Ever since he officially called you his girl, he let his twisted mind run away with itself at the idea of making love to you with no barriers. Dreaming of the opportunity to feel the sensation of sliding into your wet, warm heat with no physical preventative, coating his length in your slick arousal.
It drove him wild.
Unfortunately for his none-the-wiser Witness mother, Michael had made love to you before. Countless, incredible, mind-blowing times—alas, protected. The amount of condoms he stole from Jackie’s bedside drawer was almost comedic—until you told him to just send Bill to the drugstore for his very own box.
That he did—it was shocking how many boxes you were going through the second you both grew madly intoxicated with sex. It was sensational—Michael knew all of the spots, inside and out of you, that made you mewl. Whether it was nipping at the skin beneath your earlobe, or the way you liked your clit rubbed, or how much pressure to apply when toying with your nipples, or the angle of his hips when he would be driving into you at a ferocious speed, hitting the spot that left you screaming—he knew them all like the back of his hand. Each session of electrifying sex better than the last.
He didn’t think anything could top it.
Except one thing.
“Tink?”
Michael’s soft, warm voice sounded itself into the small of your bedroom, forcing your head up from the book you were deeply engrossed in. You looked up slowly from the moreish pages, not wanting to drag your glasses-clad eyes away from the words that were drawing you in, before you met his gaze.
Michael was lying on his stomach comfortably at the foot of your bed—knuckle-deep in his notebook that had jumbles of lyrics, affirmations and song titles scribbled across it in his messy, hurried writing, a worn down pencil in his grasp. He was in his pyjamas, hair ruffled from running a hand through it incessantly, and a curious, nervous expression across his face.
“What’s up, baby?”
Michael averted your gaze, vision locking on your feet nearest his head, his eyes locking on the small rabbits that etched themselves into the soft, fluffy fabric.
“I’ve been thinkin’.”
“Oh, no.” You giggled, deciding this was far more interesting than your book, as you dog-eared the page, closing it shut and slipping it gently next to you on the white, cotton sheets.
“Nothin’ bad, ‘promise.” He breathed out a short laugh, “Just about ..us.”
“That makes it sound real bad, Mikey.”
Michael huffed out another chuckle, “No, no. I just mean …us, like—like, what we do.”
You watched him intently as he rambled—his hands now coming up to pick the balls of fluff that had escaped their woven capture of your socks, slender fingers prying them from the material softly, as his mind raced a thousand miles a minute.
“You’re gonna have to be a bit clearer, honey.” You coaxed softly, titling your head to the side as you watched him.
He had always been shy and bashful—afraid of serious or intimate conversations in his timid nature. Nevertheless, you adored that about him—he was soft, kind, and sweet, all brilliant qualities that made your heart warm.
Michael sighed loudly, his head dropping slightly in an attempt to hide the embarrassed blush that crept up his cheeks and ears—painting his brown skin a deep shade of burgundy.
“I was just wonderin’—only if you wanted to of course!—if you wanted to …if me and you could, y’know...” He mumbled quickly, picking faster now as his innermost thoughts let slip, “I was just wonderin’ if when me and you …you-know-what …we could maybe, again only if you wanted to and were comfortable with, we could—“
“Michael, what on Earth are you saying, baby?” You laughed, smiling brightly at his frantic mumbling.
“Gosh, I’m awful at this. Forget it.” Michael huffed in defeat, his head falling into the plush sheets beneath him, hiding his face from you.
“No, no! Baby, don’t do that.” You giggled softly, leaning down to pry his face gently from the covers, thumbs instantly finding his warm cheeks to provide comfort in his anxiousness, “You don’t need to be embarrassed or worried, y’know I won’t judge you.”
Michael gazed at you, lip now caught between his teeth, as he debated the words in his head—eyes swimming in your own in an attempt to find any malice or dishonesty. He found none, and sighed, accepting defeat.
“I wanted to know if maybe you wanted to, when we …make love, you wanted to not use a—oh, Jesus—a …condom.”
The silence that followed was short, the only sound filling Michael’s apprehensive ears was the loud thumping of his own racing heartbeat—before your soft, sweet giggles filled it.
“Oh, Mikey, is that what it was all this time?” You breathed with a wide smile, “Baby, you’re so adorable.”
“Stop, Tink! I’m serious.”
If even at all possible, your smile grew deeper at his flushed, nervous frame, hands back picking at your socks as he awaited your real response.
“Yes.”
“What?”
“Yes, Michael. I do want to.”
Michael swallowed thickly—eyes darting up swiftly to meet your own as your agreement hit him. He didn’t know what he was expecting, but such a quick, nonchalant response was definitely not it.
“R—Really? You do?” Michael breathed, almost stunned at the causality of your words.
“Yes, honey.” You smiled, your hand moving to cup his cheek, the red-hot blush creeping through your skin as you connected with him, “We’ve been together long enough now, I trust you.”
And that’s how you ended up stark naked, clothes discarded on the floor beneath the bed, yes even your bunny socks!, and between Michael’s spread legs. His head lay comfortably against the headboard as you met his lips—whining softly into the kiss as his tongue brushed into your mouth with the practiced ease of a long-term, established boyfriend. Adjusting in your spot, Michael’s half-hard dick brushed against the skin of your forearm—a groan spilling from his lips, into yours, length jumping where it rest against his abdomen.
Your hand, nimble and precise, slipped between your connected bodies at the lips, and wrapped firmly around the thick, warm base of him. Michael parted from your lips momentarily, head lolling back against the wood of your headboard, eyes fluttering shut, as the sensation of your small hand curling around him sent thumping blood flooding into the direction of where you held. While he was preoccupied succumbing to the pleasure, you took the opportunity to spit into your palm, switching hands to your more confident, and instantly begin a slow, rhythmic pumping of his cock.
“S-Shit! Tinka, just like that.” Michael breathed, the loud shlick! shlick! shlick! of your methodical fist around his stiff length filled the room, mingling deliciously with his unashamed whines of pleasure.
His clit-throbbingly beautiful whines only increased as you peppered kisses along the column of his throat—occasionally nipping at the skin to gauge his reaction, which came willingly with each graze of your teeth and suck of the skin. Your hand remained working on him—a slow, almost teasing curl of your wrist each time you’d make it to the thick base, before tightening ever so slightly around the shaft, and then squeezing gently at the head, thumb swiping over his tip, collecting the drooling pre-cum onto your digits as added lubricant, in a fluid movement.
Michael was a whimpering mess, head fallen back, eyes rolled into his skull, mouth agape letting the prettiest noises fall from his plump lips—all the while letting his cock twitch violently in your grasp. With another swipe of your thumb over the head, Michael jerked his hips upwards involuntarily, a low groan scratching from deep in his chest at the stimulation.
“C—Come up here, baby.” He rasped, eyes now forced open to meet yours, that ogled him hungrily.
You shuffled, hand still enclosed around his shaft, up the bed, straddling his meaty thighs. You got comfortable, resting your weight on his legs, as you began your slow, torturous pace once more.
Michael wasted no time—his hands instantaneously coming up to grab a hold of the fat of your hips, kneading the skin beneath his calloused palms. With precision only a boyfriend of eighteen months would have, Michael’s hands slipped between your legs—hands massaging your inner thighs, tempting you to pleasure. A quiet mewl escaped you as his touch left a hot, burning residue over your skin—like his hands were made of fire, as they etched closer to where you drooled.
“Oh, mama.” Michael panted, his fingers coming in direct contact with your seeping arousal that painted your inner thighs, “This all f’me?”
“Mmh—“ A whine escaped you as his fingers trailed higher and higher, “Just for you, baby.”
Michael hummed, satisfied with your response, before swiping a singular finger through your soaking wet lips—digits collecting your ecstatic essence on his fingers, the tip of his finger catching your clit with each stroke. Your back arched instantly into the touch, a quiet whimper tumbling from your lips before you could stop it, as your hand slightly tightened around his cock.
Michael hissed at the sensation, “Shit—You like that, mama? You like it when I touch you like that, hm?”
You nodded quickly, a soft, almost inaudible moan left you, as his pressed the pad of his finger directly onto your throbbing pearl—applying the perfect pressure to leave you breathless and wanting more.
“Can I put one inside you, baby?”
“Please, please, Michael—Ah!”
In one slippery, swift movement, the long slenderness of his middle finger filled you—the sheer length of his nimble digits instantly forcing you to double over. You moaned loudly by the shell of his ear, feminine and sensual, the noise going straight to where you stroked Michael—a similar noise mixing with your own. Michael, knowing you so well, curled his fingers upwards to your front wall—the pad of his finger rubbing, at a delicious pace, against the spot inside you that had you crying out.
“Oh, yeah? That the spot, baby? Right there?” He huffed, breath hot against your cheek, before he pressed a tender kiss there.
“Yes—God—right there!”
Your hand never stopped its stroking—clamped down in a perfect grip around his leaking dick as he worked his finger inside you. Soon enough, a second finger slipped in—the stretch of his thick, lengthy digits sending you breathless and whining, the intensity of the magic of his hands making you flushed and sweating from the arousal.
“Mama, I need—Mmmh—Sweetheart, I need you. Need to feel you, please.” Michael begged, his Bambi, doe-eyes meeting your blown-out ones as you forced yourself up from his neck.
“Okay, honey, okay, I—oh, God—I’m ready.”
With another quick hum of agreement, Michael hoisted you up from his lap, two strong hands under your arms, and rose from the bed. He laid you down gently, a hand coming up to cradle your head to soften the fall, as your bare back hit the cool cotton. Michael hovered over you, leaning down to press rushed, messy kisses to your swollen lips, tongue swirling your own, and nipping at your bottom lip excitedly.
Straightening up, Michael took a firm hold of his hardened dick, stroking it softly in his fist, before guiding it between your parted legs.
“You sure you’re ready, mama?”
Your heart, already burning with ecstatic desire, warmed at his thoughtful nature—nodding briskly as he lifted your legs smoothly, hooking them over his broad shoulders. He instantly guided his dick towards where you drooled—your arousal now coating your puffy lips, trickling out of you like a faucet.
With a singular slide of his dick between your bare, slick folds, his length coated in your arousal, mixing with his own pre-cum, Michael ripped a groan from his throat. You too gasped—the scorching heat of his plump, mushroom-headed tip gliding over your exposed sex sent shockwaves of electricity flying through you.
“Oh—Oh, God, Tink.” Michael whined, eyebrows scrunched up his forehead, “Y’so—Shit—You’re so warm, oh my.”
“Michael, please,” You panted, desperate to feel him, “Stop teasin’ and put it in, please.”
“O—Okay, baby, I’ll make y’feel good, ‘promise.”
With ease, Michael guided his throbbing dick towards your clenching entrance, and with a lewd pop!, the head caught—and for the first time, he slid in. Raw.
The unison cry of pleasure that left both of you was pornographic—your head threw back against the sheets, the overwhelming sensation of his thick, hot, unprotected dick sliding into your tight, slick pussy had you seeing stars, and he hadn’t even bottomed out. As for Michael, he was already seeing things—not stars, but, more so, hearts. He’d never felt something so incredible in all his life—he was certain this feeling, the spasming, wetness of your bare sex, clenching around him like you didn’t want to ever let him go, was going to change your sex life forever.
“Holy shit, baby.” Michael groaned, voice cracking ever so slightly as he finally buried himself to the hilt—dick nudging your cervix from the size of him, and stretching you out to near max capacity.
Michael wasn’t one for cursing—so you knew in this moment he’d never felt anything so sensational.
“Fuck, baby—mmnh—move, honey, please.” You begged, your voice nearing on a sob as the sensation of his cock twitching inside you flowed through you like water down a dry gullet.
Michael moved swiftly—like he couldn’t bear the thought of leaving you unsatisfied for one moment—and pulled back, before slamming back in. Your back curved into a ‘C’ shape as it arched off the sheets—his cock already abusing your G-spot even after the first delicious thrust.
Michael was loosing it already—now nestling his face into the crook of your ankle, pressing sloppy kisses to the skin, whining into the flesh that danced with your perfume, as he dragged his dick in and out, in and out, in and out—each time as beautifully arousing as the last.
“Jesus Christ, Tink, I—I’ve—oh my God—never felt anything like this.” He revealed, eyes turning to your fucked-out expression, “Y’got the most perfect, beautiful pussy in the whole world, girl—shit!”
His name fell from your lips in a seductive, sensual manner—chanting it like a crazed fan of his in a crowd, like the only thing your brain could even fathom was his name. Michael continued smothering his face in your ankle, occasionally pressing kisses to your pedicured toes—whimpering about how every part of you, head to toe, was pure perfection. How he couldn’t believe how he landed with a girl like you.
He was star-struck.
Just like always, whenever Michael would press you into the mattress and take you with the magic between his legs, a mind-numbing orgasm crept up your spine—tingling deep in your abdomen. The blabbering began—his dick still splitting you in half as his hips rolled desperately fast into your crotch, his coarse, curly pubic hairs dragging along your clit with the perfect friction.
“Mich—Fuck, baby!—Michael, I’m gonna—Oh! Ah! I’m gonna cum!” You cried out, louder than you anticipated and now secretly thankful you lived alone in your California apartment.
Michael whimpered at the reveal of your pleasure—his body jerking forward to nestle into your front, still rutting into you like a dog in heat. With every practiced, harsh thrust of his hips, dick repeatedly abusing the toe-curling spot inside you, your orgasm approached faster and faster, like a train going a thousand miles an hour. And that out-of-this world orgasm only hit you head on, like a saucepan to the forehead, as Michael’s plush lips wrapped around your pebbled nipple—swirling his tongue around the erect nub, before sucking with pristine suction.
“Michael!”
It was sensational—the magnitude of the orgasm that washed over you was nothing like you’d ever felt. The pressure of his mouth on your breast, his hands gripping your ankles that still rest upon his shoulders, or the prominent vein on the underside of his shaft that dragged along your fluttering walls—all contributed to slamming you head-first into a crippling release. Your legs violently shook, calves tensed and spasming on his shoulders, back arched into a brutal curve, eyes slammed shut, and half-rolled to the back of your head, and mouth taut in an ‘O’ shape as your pussy clamped down him viciously.
“O—Oh, God, sweetheart.” Michael panted, entranced by your heavenly reaction, “Thaaaat’s it, that’s it, Tinka, cum for me. Cum alllll over me, baby.”
Michael, even despite you aggressively clenching and twitching around him as you orgasmed, never let up his thrusts—continuing, faster than before, jackhammering his dick impossibly deeper as he chased his own release, grunting and groaning into your ear.
“Shit, shit, shit, love, where—Holy shit—where d’ya want me? Where d’ya want it, sweetheart?” He panted, chest heaving against your own, your perked nipples grazing over his skin, dripping with sweat.
“Inside!”
“What?”
“I—Inside, Michael, please!” You cried, eyes still clamped shut, nails dragging down his bare back, clawing at his skin as the overstimulation fashioned itself deep in your core as he relentlessly pounded into you.
“Oh, God, oh God—oh, Tink, I love you. I love you! I love you! I love y—I’m gonna—Ah!”
Crying out nearly as loud as you, Michael forced his violently throbbing dick as deep as he could go—body jerking and convulsing as he pulsed inside you. The sensation of Michael’s hot, thick spurts of cum flooding your pussy was like no other—it was otherworldly. And he came twice as hard as he would do with a condom wrapped around his pretty cock—and twice as much fluids. Michael could fill a condom pretty impressively—but this was different. With every subconscious, uncontrollable stutter of his hips as he whimpered into the crook of your neck, cum still spurting from him like a leaky tap, his release squelched loudly—now forced out the insanely small gap between his girth and your clenching walls, drooling down his exposed base, to his tightened balls, and onto the bedsheets below.
For a while, neither of you moved. Michael stilled inside you, now softening slowly inside your impossibly wet sex, filled to the brim with his release, mixing with your own creamy essence, as he heaved onto the sticky flesh of your collarbone. Your hands scattered across his back, fingers now tracing the lines you carved into his skin.
Finally, Michael, with a loud huff, lifted himself from your skin on two forearms pressed deeply into the plush of the mattress. Your eyes met, and a soft, warm bubble of giggles left both of your swollen lips—utterly enthralled by one another.
“That was…”
“Yeah.”
Another round of breathless laughter left you both, blushes creeping up your cheeks as the reality of what you’d just acted out hit your conscious brain.
Michael leaned down, pressed a loving, gentle kiss to your lips, humming softly into your mouth, beginning a slow, sensual kiss, still locked deeply inside you, even in his flaccid state.
Pulling away with a sweet mwah!, Michael smiled cheekily down at you, “I’m throwing that condom box away.”
Fandom: Michael Jackson (Musician), Michael Jackson - Thriller (Music Video)
Rating: Teen and Up Audiences
Chapter Word Count: 2.4K+
Relationships: Ola Ray X Michael Jackson
Tags: Thriller Era, Canon Divergence, Non-Famous, Werewolf ! Michael, Established Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Body Horror (but like the regular amount for a werewolf story), more tags on AO3
AO3 link
Chapter Summary: Tonight was the first full moon since Ola had found out the truth, and they were going to spend it together. The right way this time.
❝ you want your own bedroom, but your husband, bad!michael, strongly disagrees.❞
ⓘ light suggestiveness. pouty michael.
you had a lifestyle magazine opened on your shared bed to a well-decorated, feminine bedroom, but michael wasn’t staring at it—he was staring at you as if you just suggested moving to mars.
"a separate bedroom?" he repeated, his soft voice rising into a scandalized gasp.
he stood at the foot of the bed, his hands coming to rest firmly on his hips. he shook his head in disbelief. he couldn’t help but wonder if he had done something wrong or if you didn’t find him attractive anymore because of his snoring.
"y/n, we are married. husbands and wives share a bed. that’s how it works!”
you were sitting on the edge of the bed as he stood in front of you flopping his hands around.
"mike, it's just for my own personal space," you explained, trying to suppress a smile at how offended he looked.
one of your friends told you all about how she felt happier having her own bedroom and how it can do wonders for a marriage. plus, she’s been married about twenty years longer than you. you didn’t realize that not compromising on every single thing was an option, and you truthfully couldn’t stop thinking about it.
you looked down at the sparkly bed set you were sitting atop of and the Jesus portrait above the bed.
“…besides, i want to decorate it in my own style. y’know, my own books, maybe a giant pastel rug, a cheetah print loveseat. i love our bedroom, but sometimes i just want somethin’ of my own." you shrugged your shoulders, unable to look him into his eyes that always appeared larger than life whenever he was upset.
you looked down at your swinging feet instead.
michael pouted and rolled his eyes.
"but our bedroom is cozy, and you have somethin’ of your own—it's my left shoulder!"
he marched around to your side of the bed, crossing his arms tightly over his chest. he huffed. he grew more and more upset the longer the looked at your empty side of the bed. he couldn’t bear for that sight to become the norm. he was also internally panicking because you were his personal nyquil; he slept much easier with your presence next to him.
“if you sleep in another room, who am i supposed to serenade at two in the morning when lyrics come to me in a dream? who's gonna steal the cover off me?"
"you can still visit, michael," you giggled, reaching out to tug on the fabric of his shirt.
"visit?" he repeated loudly, his lips curling in horror at the word.
"i have to make an appointment to see my own wife? no, no, no. i don't like the thought of it at all. it makes me feel like we're landlords." he violently shook his head as he walked back over to you.
he suddenly slumped down next to you, burying his face in your shoulder with a dramatic sigh, his long loose curls sprawled out.
"we can change the rug, y/n. we can buy books—whatever y’want. just please don't leave me. i’ll do whatever y’want angel." he pleaded, pulling his head back and holding both of your hands into his.
when you looked forward instead of into his eyes, he slid off the bed and dropped down on his knees. he rested his head against your hard knee and looked up at you pleadingly. some of his strands partially covered his eyes.
“michael!” you groaned, trying to move your knee from his heavy skull, but he grounded the weight of his head into it. he was genuinely bothered by the idea and didn’t support it at all. you definitely weren’t expecting him to be so dramatic about it either.
“i’m so serious baby. don’t go.” he sighed.
you bit the inside of your cheek knowing that you already discussed the decorations with one of the onsite architects.
he raised his arms and began gently rubbing long ovals up and down your covered thighs.
“who’s gonna love you when you need me, baby?” he muttered slowly, grazing his teeth across his reddish pink lower lip.
you gulped quietly then rolled your eyes. you tried pushing his veiny hands off of you, but he instead took hold of your smaller ones and began kissing each of your fingers.
“michael! seriously stop being childish.” you groaned.
he, unfortunately, wasn’t going to stop until you let this grotesque idea go.
◟♡ ˒ ʾʾ Michael Jackson was achingly desperate for your physical touch. He knew that you’re weren’t a touchy person, but he can’t help but seek out your warmth as much as a man possibly could.
While you were lazily flipping through the latest magazine, Michael sat beside you watching a movie. It had started entirely by accident. His hand rested beside you, palm facing up toward the ceiling. Unconsciously, you had reached out without looking, wanting something to fidget with.
It was a completely unconscious, hypnotic rhythm. Your fingers tracing the lines of his palm. It was a delicate, feather-light touch, and entirely addictive to Michael.
He was petrified to move a single muscle, afraid that you’d snap out of it and realise what you were doing.
Don’t move, he kept internally repeating to himself. Do not move.
You were entirely immersed in the magazine, your eyes widening only the tiniest bit whenever you found something interesting. Michael found it all too endearing.
Michael’s leg suddenly became restless. He pleaded with his own body. No. Don’t ruin it. Please don’t ruin it.
He let out a tiny, barely audible exhale. The feeling was so good it was almost agonising. You weren’t doing it to comfort him, you weren’t doing it to tease him. You were simply doing it because your body naturally sought out his, even unconsciously.
He wanted to stay in this position for the rest of his life. But obviously his traitorous body had to betray his mind. A stray curl tickled the tip of his nose. He tried to fight it. He really did.
His head gave a sudden, sharp jerk as he sneezed into his left shoulder. Your fingers froze. Michael’s heart sank straight to his feet. No, no, no, no, please God, no.
You blinked as the daunting realisation of what you had been doing crossed your face.
“Sorry. I didn’t realise I was doing that.” you murmured, your voice slightly raspy from disuse.
Casually, you began to pull your hand away, intending to rest it on your thigh. Michael felt the warmth slipping out of his palm. The corners of his mouth slightly drooped, his sad, wide eyes watching you.
Before he could stop himself and before you could fully pull away, his fingers gently clasped around your wrist.
“Wait,” Michael blurted out desperately. You blinked at him completely startled. “Michael? What are you doing?”
“I… I wasn’t complaining,” he stammered. He tried his best to seem casual but it was plain to see that he was slightly nervous. “You don’t have to stop.”
“I didn’t mean to annoy you, I’m sorry.”
“Youweren’tannoyingme!” Michael rushed out frantically, his eyes wide. He cleared his throat, trying to seem casual again. “It wasn’t annoying at all. It was… it was fine. It was good.”
“It was good?” you repeated his words, a teasing smile tugging at your lips.
“Yeah,” he muttered shyly. He looked at you through his dark eyelashes. “It was nice. You can… you can keep doing it. If you want.”
You stared at him for three long seconds while he watched you with pleading eyes, patiently waiting for your next move like a puppy eyeing a treat. A soft, genuine laugh escaped you. The sound instantly melted Michael’s features.
You didn’t pull away. Instead, your fingers began the same rhythm they had earlier.
thinking about making out with otw! michael, the air getting thicker and heavier by the second as he tries so hard to use restraint and not cross any boundaries. but all that hesitation completely shatters the moment you climb onto his lap.
as you roll your hips forward, pressing your cunt right against his throbbing cock, a low groan escapes his throat. his large hands immediately lock onto your hips, pulling you flush against him and guiding your rhythm while you melt into each other's mouths. the intense friction drives him so crazy that before long, he's already leaking straight through the thin fabric of his boxers.
when your hands reach for his waistband to pull them off, he catches your wrists, stopping you with a breathless, raspy "no... not yet."
instead, his hands slide down to your shoulders, gently guiding you down to your knees between his legs. looking up at him, you press your lips right against the warm, damp cotton, tasting him through the cloth. he gasps, his fingers instantly tangling into your hair to hold your head tight against him as you lick and suck at his tip right through his underwear.
taking care of michael, who is utterly exhausted but still wants to be ridden and touched. wc: 460
slow/sleepy sex , riding , handjob , dom!reader(?)
had this idea while laying in bed with a migraine.. tired asf.. (ooohhh maybe I’ll create a fluff fic that includes mj or reader experiencing a bad migraine👀??) anyways, enjoy !
the room was dimly lit by candles. a gentle amber glow danced against the walls and soft shadows blended into dark corners.
the bed dipped as you placed your knee closer to michael's stretched out thigh, adjusting your position so that you could lean forward while using you hand to pump his hard and lengthy dick up and down at a steady pace.
the bedroom was quiet except for the wet sound of michael's precum as you jerked him off. as well as the occasional soft, deep rooted groans and whines, and the moist sounds of lips on skin.
michael was laying down, pillows bunched up beneath his head. strands of disheveled curls sprayed across the pillows, some strands falling into his face. you sat in between michael's legs, running a hand slowly up and down his thigh in a soothing motion while using your other hand to stroke his dick.
the pace of the night was very, very slow. and perhaps it was better this way because michael was very, very tired. he had a both physically and mentally demanding day. you knew this from the way his shoulders and eyes were heavy when he came back earlier. yet despite that exhaustion, he still kissed you into the mattress and roamed his hands all over your body. that was when you had suggested taking care of him for one night.
michael let out a moan from beneath you— a small, involuntary cry that sounded closer to a whine than anything. you kept your pace steady and gentle, leaning forward to place tender kisses on his neck and chest. michael hummed softly as you did so, eyes lidded as he watched you from underneath long lashes.
you laughed softly at his expression, "sorry, baby. I know you're tired." you said, taking your hand off of his dick and moving up more to cradle him and line yourself up with him. michael places his hands on your waist, rubbing his thumbs in gentle circle similar to the way that you were rubbing his thigh.
having been prepared already, you sunk down onto his dick gently and smoothly, letting out a choked out gasp once you took him fully. michael sucked in a breath, letting out a small curse.
"..god, you feel s'good, mama." he sighed out. his eyes fluttered closed in a way that you couldn't tell if it was from pleasure or if he was genuinely falling asleep with his dick in you but you quickly begin to move. he groaned, eyes opening again just to watch you bounce up and down with growing desperation.
"fuck, you feel so good, mike.. s-so fuckin' good. ah!" you jerked, curses spilling from your lips with every inch swallowed into your wet pussy….
ellievsbear
stormborns
theartofmadeline
2087
izzy806
