ā¤· in which ... you and michael were invited to a party and you wore a dress he didn't like ...
ā¤· warnings! ... MDNI!!! - use of y/n, baby, sweetheart, age gap, smut, p n v, unprotected sex (don't try it), sough rex (if you squint), creampie, arguing, tension - not proof read!
ā¤· word count ... 2.6k
I toss my hair over my left shoulder as I turn to the right to look at myself in the mirror. I admire my mid thigh, light pink dress. I turn to the left to get a glance of the open back of the dress as I hear Michael's footsteps approaching our bedroom.
"you're not wearing that " he says sternly, glancing disapprovingly at me. I catch his glance in the mirror and I turn around to face him.
"and why not?" I ask, adjusting the straps of the dress and smoothing it out.
"why not?" he repeats, scoffing and walking closer to me.
"you're not going out in that dress y/n. It's too much. Too many men can stare" he places his hands on my waist and I pull away.
"seriously... are you mad?" he sighs, running a hand through his hair.
I don't reply and start gathering my things I need at the party.
"where do you think you're going?" he asks with an exasperated chuckle, grasping my wrist gently but hard enough to stop me right at the bedroom doorway.
"away from you" I try to pull away from him but he chuckles deeply in disbelief.
"I don't like when you control what I can and can't do." His grasp loosens on my wrist and I turn to face him.
"Control? y/n... baby... I protect what's mine. There's a difference." His hand comes up to cup my cheek, his thumb grazing my cheekbone. I pull away slightly and he drops his hand.
"well I don't really appreciate that kind of protection. It's controlling." He steps closer to me if that's even possible, the scent of expensive cologne surrounds me. He didn't raise his voice, he never does.
"are you seriously gonna walk out the door with that dress on? it barely covers your ass, y/n. Every guy is gonna have their eyes on you. on what belongs to me" He speaks firmly.
"Michael, you should know by now that I don't want anyone else. I wear stuff like this because it makes me feel good." my voice raises slightly. His expression softens a bit but he is still upset. He takes a deep breath, trying to keep his temper in check.
"I know you don't want anyone else y/n. That's not the point." He runs his hands through his hair in frustration.
"honestly, you should feel proud that other men look at me like that." He laughs humorlessly.
"oh, im proud. I'm very proud that my girl makes other men feel inadequate. But pride doesn't stop me from being irritated at every man who looks at you wrong. That's how it works baby. You shine, but you only shine for me." He tilts his head, looking at me with a gentler expression than before.
I turn around and start walking down the hallway. He immediately follows me down the hallway and down the large staircase leading to the kitchen. He moved with dominance behind me. He didn't grab or yell he just simply followed until I stopped in the kitchen due to his overwhelming presence.
"y/n." He warned softly.
"What, Michael"
"You don't walk away from me when we're having a conversation." He said, his voice low as he fiddles with his cufflinks. The house was silent beside the clicking of our shoes on the marble floor.
"We aren't having a conversation. you are thinking about how everything pertains to you, how it makes you feel, I'm telling you that it makes me feel confident to dress up. You say you don't like it because other men look at what's yours." I run a hand through my hair and lean against the kitchen counter, looking at him.
He walks closer to me slowly.
"because other men look at you..." he repeated quietly, like he couldn't understand the concept I was questioning.
"you don't see yourself, do you?" He stops right in front of me, looking down at me.
I nod.
"I do. That's why I like dressing up. I like that feeling of being confident and pretty."
His anger subsides slightly. He lets out a long, heavy sigh as he grips my waist gently.
"I know you're pretty y/n. You should know that too" His thumb strokes my hip and I make no effort of pulling away.
He spoke low and tender.
"you like the way you look, right?"
"sometimes" I admit, looking away from him.
He furrowed his eyebrows, making me look back up at him.
"sometimes? you should feel beautiful every time you look in the mirror, baby. Not sometimes... and when you do feel beautiful, you should only want one man to see it." He tilts my chin up, looking into my eyes tenderly.
"I do, Michael. The other men only get a glance, you get it all." The tension in my body subsides mostly and I relax into his touch.
His expression softens completely, his hand comes up to stroke my jaw with his thumb. He exhaled slowly, releasing tension he didn't know he had. His hands move from my waist to my hips, pulling me flush against him.
"I will work on it okay? I just love you so much and want you all to myself" He murmurs, kissing my forehead.
"Thank you..." I say softly as he kisses me.
I break the kiss.
"I don't even want to go to the party anymore." I say, walking towards the stairs as he follows.
"that's alright we can just stay home." he follows me back up to our bedroom.
I sit down on our bed and pull my heels off, placing them neatly down on the floor next to the bed. He watches me as he take off his cufflinks, placing them on the dresser next to him. The room is silent except for the soft whisper of the bed sheets underneath me. He approaches the bed.
I stand up, turning around in front of him, silently asking him to unzip my dress. He smiles softly, his fingers automatically finding the zipper and pulling it down. I remove the dress, leaving me just in my white lacy bra and matching panties.
He rests his hands on my bare waist, thumbs tracing the smooth skin as he leaned down, pressing a kiss against the curve of my shoulder.
"Much better" He murmured appreciatively, I feel his breath ghosting over my neck.
"turn around sweetheart, wanna see all of you." he says quietly.
I slowly turn around, his eyes following the movement, tracking every inch of me. When I face him, his hand tucks a piece of hair behind my ear and he leans down to kiss my neck gently, grabbing onto my waist gently and pulling me flush against him once again. I moan softly in response.
"you look incredible all dressed up, but you look even better all stripped down for me." he whispers in my ear.
"only you get to see me like this, mike" I respond breathlessly.
"that's right, only me" He then kisses me deeply, fingers tangling in my hair.
I break the kiss to look down, unbuckling his belt quickly and pulling it off.
His breath hitched as I unbuckled his belt. His hands remained on my waist. I continue by unbuttoning his dress pants, then unzipping them to follow. He steps out of his pants when they pool at his ankles.
After, I climb on the bed in front of us, crawling up to the pillows and lying down against them, spreading my legs. He chuckles deeply and climbed on the bed, crawling until he was positioned between my legs. He kisses me deeply as his forearms rest on either side of my head.
As he kisses me I unbutton his shirt pulling it down his arms and eventually discarding it on the floor near the bed. We keep intense eye contact.
The air between us was electric. No words needed. No foreplay necessary. We both knew what we wanted.
He hooked his fingers in the waistband of my white lacy panties, pulling them down slowly.
"Eyes on me, sweetheart." He instructed, his voice firm and commanding, still holding the eye contact.
I nod. Keeping intense eye contact and biting my lip slightly as he exposes me. He runs his thumbs along my inner thighs slowly, spreading my legs wider.
He moves back up to hover over me, his weight settling on his elbows and forearms that framed my face.
I reach to pull his boxers down just enough so his thick, hard cock slips out. I keep eye contact with him and he wastes no time, rubbing the head of his cock up and down my wet folds.
I moan softly as his cock slips over my clit over and over and he keeps the intense eye contact.
He positions himself at my entrance. I look down.
āHey, eyes up hereā he tilts my chin up to look at him as he pushes in slowly letting me feel every ridge, every vein. His jaw clenches, a low groan escaping him as your tight heat swallows him inch by inch. My eyes never wavered from his, and that drove him insane.
āThaaaaattts it babyā¦ā he praises then groans softly and his forehead drops down to rest against mine.
I whine softly and press my lips against his. His dark eyes stare into mine, unyielding, demanding i stay present with him despite the overwhelming sensations. His grip tightens on my hip, his thumb pressing against the soft curve as he bottoms out, his chest rising and falling rapidly. He refuses to move forward, keeping me at this excruciatingly perfect midpoint.
"Breathe, sweetheart" he murmured through clenched teeth.
I take a deep breath as he pulls almost all the way out and then pushes forward with a fast, but deliberate roll of his hips, burying himself completely inside me. He groaned low in his throat, his forehead pressing against yours as he did it again.
I moaned and my legs wrapped around his waist, my eyes fluttering shut while my head falls back onto the pillows. The sound is beautiful to his ears. His hands slide under my lower back, arching me upward to take him even deeper.
"Feel that, baby?" he whispered against your mouth, his voice vibrating against your lips.
āF-feels so good Mikeā I stutter breathlessly.
"Mmm." His voice is a deep rumble of satisfaction. He pulls back slowly again, watching my face as he did so. When only the tip remains inside me, he slams back in with one powerful thrust. My gasp is immediate, my hands flying to his biceps and my legs wrapping around his waist to steady myself.
āyes, oh my fucking god justā nghhh fuckkkk!ā I moan loudly.
"That's right," he groaned, repeating the motion. Slowly withdrawing, then a hard, deep thrust that makes my whole body arch off the mattress. He sets a ruthless, deliberate rhythm, his hips snapping against mine with precision. His pace quickly turns rough, his cock slamming into me and grazing that spot inside me with every thrust.
āSay youāre mineā¦ tell me who you belong toā he says firmly, slamming into me and pulling my hair slightly.
āY-you Michael! I belong to- fuck!! I belong to you!ā My nails dig into his bicep as he continues to plow into me.
āI love you so much Mikeā¦ā I manage to say between thrusts.
"I love you, y/n... my beautiful girl." He slams into me harder, deeper, making my eyes roll back. "My obsession. My everything." He kisses my forehead deeply, pounding into me with absolute devotion.
āAhhh fuck!ā My back arches into him and he takes that advantage to unclasp my bra in the back. The white lace gets pulled off and thrown to the floor nearby.
He buries his face between my tits, kissing them as his pace remains exactly the same.
āSo beautiful for me, sweetheartā he says before sucking my right breast.
I let out a loud moan.
"o-oh my god Mikey! Just like that!" I moan loudly as his mouth switches to my left breast, his pace never faltering.
"Shit baby... keep calling me that" He murmurs against my chest as his pace quickens impossibly. His rhythm turned ruthless while he pulled my hair harder, hitting that spot inside me with precision, making my toes curl.
"Don't stop Mikey I'm so close please I need to cum...." I beg desperately, my arms moving to wrap around his neck.
He moves his head away from my tits to kiss me softly, then pulling away. His lips brush over mine as he speaks.
"Beg." he demands, slowing down his pace to keep me right on the edge but not enough to give me what I want.
"Mikey... please I need to cum... I'm sorry for arguing with you" I whine, throwing my head back against my pillow in impatience.
"Needy girl hm?" He kisses my neck as he picks up the pace again, making my nails dig into his back.
He reaches down to rub my clit in tight circles.
"Let go for me sweetheart. Let me feel you. I've got you." He watches my facial expressions as I get closer and closer to falling off the edge.
"Oh! oh! I'm cumming! yes!" I scream, arching my back, my torso brushing his. He moans at the sight and the feeling of me pulsating around his cock.
"Shit, baby" He groans, following me over the edge almost immediately, his release ripping through him. He groans my name against my mouth as his hips jerk wildly, filling me with hot, pulsing ropes of cum.
He collapses on top of me but makes sure he isn't hurting me. He looks at me with soft eyes and kisses my neck gently, sweetly.
We lay there for a few more minutes before he pulls out slowly, his gaze never leaving mine as he feels the warmth of my release start to leak out between my thighs.
He settles beside me, pulling the blanket over us and pulling me into his chest. His kisses my forehead and intertwines our fingers.
"My gorgeous girl... Look at me." he murmurs softly, waiting until my eyes meet his.
"Did I hurt you? I got a little rough..." He looks at me with a concerned look, his free hand coming up to cup my cheek.
"No, you didn't baby. We needed rough make up sex anyway so it's okay" I say chucking softly.
He chuckles softly too, his thumb brushing my cheek.
"You're right, we did." He admits, smiling.
"I just... I get so intense with you. Possessive. I can't help it. But I'm going to work on it okay?" He nods like he is making a decision.
I nod and cuddle closer to him.
The next morning...
We have an interview scheduled today and I wear a red leather dress that hits right above the knee, matching Michael's red leather jacket.
As he walks into the bedroom he catches a glimpse of my outfit, making him take double take. He walks over, placing his hands on my waist and pressing a kiss to my forehead.
"Absolutely stunning, baby"
"You think?" I look up at him.
"I know." He replies firmly, turning me around to adjust the straps of the dress. His eyes sweep over me in the mirror, admiring the way the red leather hugged my curves perfectly.
"You're glowing, y/n. That confidence? It's beautiful."
"Thank you, baby... Some of that glow may be from last night." I tease him and turn around, kissing his cheek.
He laughed, his eyes sparkling with amusement.
"Oh, I know exactly what that glow is from."
Thanks for reading!!! sorry this is lowkey cringe and terrible.
michael arrives home from a demanding music video filming day and enters absolutely fatigued, wanting nothing but to kiss you all over, however, placing you on his lap as he did so affected him more than he thought.
ā ā ā ā ā ā ā ā 18+ mdni
7.3kć ļ¹ ćthriller michael į± š».rea CONTAINSć ļ¹ ć( smut w little plot )ćsoftdom!mj ( i think.. ), established relationship, oral ( m&f ) munch mikey >ā ā < crying, dry humping, riding, spit as lube, stomach bulge, insecurities, no use of y/n, unprotected ( wrap your willy! dont be silly! ) creampie, aftercare
your home, once scented tobacco, smells of musk and skin when michael enters sapped, and from afar, bleary.
the click of the door lock pulls your attention from the tv to his beat face, a sheen of sweat coating his forehead and back, clinging to his white tee, creating transparent patches and the faithful impression of how weary he is.
you grab onto the back of the couch as you twist your torso to earn a better view, and at that moment, his tired gaze makes its way to you.
previously half-lidded, his eyes ever so slightly widen at the sight of you clad in nothing but an oversized shirt and panties, because in all sincerity: you didnāt expect him to arrive home so early. itās usually early mornings to past midnight with michael's schedules, yet itās only 8 pm.
rising to your feet, your brows crease in worry as he walks over to the couch. ābaby,ā you breathe, hands reaching out to help him. as he moves closer, his panting grows more evident as well as the scent of sweat and the faint smell of his lingering perfume. only then did your nose take in the scent. āwhatāā
he nears and takes your hand in his, intertwining your fingers together and gently squeezing as he collapses himself onto the plush cushions and pillows of the couch, pulling you down with him, though with a lighter landing.
a content sigh escapes him as if he only just revived his memory to breathe. leaning closer, you can hear faint sounds of him panting through his headache; the way it catches in his throat and he has to swallow to breathe properly again; one breath being light, and the other grows heavy to then heavy again and so on; the way he expels a low moan during lighter exhales.
his previously stiffened body finally releases the tension heās been unknowingly holding all day. he finds comfort in the bolsters of the couch, the welcoming warmth of his home, the quiet dialogue from the television, and most importantly, the presence of you. heck, his head was pounding in his skull before he even came through the door, however, now the first wave of ease washes over his head for the first time in hours as he feels his heartbeat slowing in his chest.
picking himself up, he lays his hands on the cushions, one balled into a fist, and pushes himself toward you. it happened so fast. his head lowers as his fist spreads to hold onto your waist, his other hand reaching for the back of your neck, something you canāt feel until his thumb begins to trace circles against your nape. glancing down, the hand gripping your waist trembles as he caresses your side. he buries his head into the crook of your neck.
ābaby, ām so tired,ā michael sighs into your skin as you feel his sweat adhere to you. his breath is hot against your neck, and you shudder as you try to strain a sentence out of your newly stubborn throat.
āi couldn't tell,ā you somehow manage, voice seeping through quivering at first before you could find your poise as you give a languid nod. he lets out a pfft with a laugh despite his exhaustion, still able to muster up strength to laugh with you, and a smile tugs on your lips.
and then you feel it. though itās feather light, he presses a kiss to your neck. and another. as though it were instinct, your hand makes its way to his curls, lightly scratching at the back of his scalp as his hands twitch from the touch. as they pile up, a giggle bubbles from your throat. āmikeāā
āshh,ā he chuckles sluggishly, grinning against your skin, āi wanna kiss you.ā he intervenes with another kiss, humming into your neck. a hot flush you canāt swallow overwhelms your cheeks as it spreads down to your neck with a shudder, seeking to pass it off as merely tepidity radiating from michaelāas if that makes the spin of your mind any better.
you donāt know why this feels different.
your eyes narrow as you gander down and scan his face. his cheeks have grown a little rosyāyouāre unsure whether itās from his exhaustion or if he even walked in with that tint on him at all. his styled edges are visibly a bit soaked from his sweat, regarding the droplets of it, and a faint grin sneaking itself through his kisses, yet the only thing distracting you is how his lips feel on your skin.
they arenāt even on your mouth, you shouldnāt be so affected by it.
and yet, to make it worse, he starts to suck crudely along your neck, a wave of heat hitting your body with embarrassing haste, and your eyes inadvertently shut. your fingers twine with his curls once more, yet this time, it seems as though he tries to stifle something like a groanāsomething you feel you shouldnāt have caught. the action heedlessly pushes him closer, and he doesnāt pass his chance to mark the rest of your skin accessible to him, kissing you almost ardently, like he got excited from the new reach. your stomach churns.
despite it, you bat your eyes back open. the awareness of how eager he came to be hits him, and with a flush to his cheeks, he reluctantly slows his kisses, suckling gently on your neck, and he splays his quivering hand on your nape. that's when you feel your lungs still, and you belatedly call attention for yourself to take a breath.
michael tightens his grip on your waist, the hand to your nape sliding down to hold your hip with waiting intention unbeknownst to you. his hands snake around your stomach and make their way around your waist until his arms are full of you, so unsought that your gaze instantaneously travels down to his arms around you, and looking back, it leads to your eyes searching him again.
a blemish near his cheekbone, a sweet, lasting mark from his bygone acne as your interest flickers to the tip of his nose retreating with each tender kiss. he tilts his head and settles into the backrest, every so often altering with each new area he covers just to rest back there again; as he does so, the dim light from the television grazes over his skin, and though brisk, you catch sight of the excess beads of sweat sitting on his forehead.
michael lets a low simper make off at your hand in his hair wincing before harking back to your side and onto his wrist, a fleet sound that wriggles its way into your spine and down to your lower back, your stomach stirring anew.
it shouldāve been cute; you assume it oughta, but as he digs his face back into your neck and litters wet kisses against your skin, the air around grows someway bawdier than it already was.
his self restraint is unmistakable. he's trying to save his kisses gentle, you can feel it, and yet, his efforts prove in vain as he drifts further from what little control he has in his allegedly tired body. his tongue grazes your skin between a kiss, and michael feels you shudder in his hold.
the television is practically inaudible nowātwofold when youāre so drawn to each wet noise he makes when he stops sucking on your skin, and every soft sound that escapes his lips when he leaves another kiss on you.
you can smell himāthe faint damp and tangy scent from his sudor, the smell of the vanillas in his shampoo laying just underneath, the airy amber from his perfume, and the raw, musky moisture from his skin that for whatever reason, affects you drastically as your thighs clamp together before you can even have a say in your actions.
michael's heart is hammering against his ribcage. he feels heat bleeding into his cheeks, and as a way to ground himself, he gives a light squeeze to your hip every few kisses, and spoilers, itās forlorn.
he can't keep ignoring this forever. he needs you so, so madly right now, and the tension in the room only coils in his stomach and bullies his composure (which is something heās surprised he even has at the moment).
and then it slips.
it starts when his lips caress your earlobe, lightly nipping it with his teeth, and he stops for a heartbeat too slow. his breath stutters in your ear, airy and hot with desire.
and suddenly, youāre hyper aware of the fact youāre merely wearing panties when a pool of heat reaches your lower back.
he presses his lips together, a little wet from his own saliva, and tries to stabilise his breathing (to no avail). he moves down, leaving hot, open-mouthed kisses near your nape, then the dip of your neck, to near your collarbone, until abruptly, he finds the sensitive bit of skin on you, to which you suck in a breath and curl your lips inwards as a sound begged to be let out of your throat. as his teeth nip the area, it prompts your head to tilt averse onto the back of the couch, and michael grows dizzy with pure want.
his hands seep their way into your shirt and caress your sides as he drags his lips, teeth grazing your skin as his breath sends another wave of heat through you.
it was so sudden. both of you didnāt pre-empt it, and it shows when he rolls his hips into you, and a mewl knocks itself out of your throat as michael lets out an audible gasp.
ābabyābaby, i'm so sorry. isā¦ is this okay?ā his words are strangled as he pulls away from your neck, lips parted. turning your head, your eyes meet his.
theyāre wide and hazed, laced with need. his brows are high and drawn together as his last effort to hold back.
and with that, you cracked.
your lips crash onto his, hot and messy, hips grinding against the growing bulge in his slacks as you do so, and michael groans into your mouth. almost immediately, his hands grasp back onto your waist to spin you around, breaking the kiss before settling you onto his lap again, a choked moan leaving his lips at the contact, pressing his lips back on yours as he tilts his head.
painfully, you haul yourself along the thick ridge of his tent, a moan leaving your mouth to which michael eagerly swallows. he pulls away to catch his breath.
he pants lightly against your lips with hooded eyes, yet he canāt manage to keep them off you, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth and peppering more down to your jaw, lips wet from you.
you rock down on him, the friction so delicious, yet not enough to satiate. his head promptly drops, forehead sticking to the side of your neck a whimper spills from him, trickling with hunger, and heās not trying to hide it, either.
his lips find their way back to yours, pure, full-blown desire woven into it as you feel your panties soaking, clenching around nothing, and likely leaving a wet patch on michael's pants.
āmikey, please,ā your voice comes wrecked as you force yourself away from him just enough for you to speak, and the sound of you begging alone gets a groan out of him.
he rubs up against you, lightly nipping your bottom lip as an unstable gasp shakes out of you. āyes, pretty?ā his words hit firm and teasing, a smile creeping onto his face, one hand sliding from your waist to your thigh, gently squeezing your skin to egg you on.
āneed youā¦ā you gulp back a gasp, running words through your head, nitpicking ones you find too vulgar or dirty and scrambling them in frantic obscurity, āmake love to me, pl-ease,ā you finish meekly. your hands grab onto his shoulders, dipping your head down gingerly in a flustered haze, primarily because you have never done this with him, let alone said such a thing, and the tremble of his hands on you says so much with so little. he connects your lips again, nodding into it as a sign of approval.
his shaky hands move to the backs of your upper thighs, keeping a strong grip as he warily lifts you up. by instinct, your legs wrap around his waist as your arms did around his neck, and he grins into the kiss.
he brings you to his bedroom, shutting the door behind him and coming to a halt when his knees hit the mattress, settling you down onto the sheets as if you were a delicacy.
michael wastes no time in peppering kisses down your bodyāyour jaw, neck, your collarbones for a moment too long before moving to your inner thighs.
your panties are so embarrassingly damp from your arousal, and his bottom lip quivers as his breath hitches from the mere sight of you soaked.Ā Ā
he leaves a burning, wet trail of kisses up your thigh up until he feels a hand in his hair, upping his head to avert his attention to you. and suddenly, his eyes slightly widen as he grows meek at his actions, a red tint bleeding up to the tips of his ears.
almost instantly, you clamp your thighs together. āw-wait,ā you squeak, and your mouth goes dry. never in your life have you felt more self-conscious, and even more when you feel as though youāve fissured the moment. humiliation bounds around your muscles and renders you stiff.
the cognisance roots itself into his skin in prickles. his eyes change into something gentler, his brows fleetly lifting before pressing together lightly. he scans your face, looking for an ounce of jest in your expression, because frankly, he canāt wrap his head around how the woman he loves most, the woman who is so incredibly perfect in his eyes, could be thinking negatively about herself. and yet, he finds none.
hand leisurely settling on your thigh, he caresses your skin so tenderly it almost burns, radiating into your chest and down to your core. āmama, youāre so perfect,ā he coos, and thereās nothing but pure sincerity dowsed in his voice, your cheeks growing so hot you think he can see it. āi hope you see yourself as i see you. i'll make you feel so, so right, justāpleaseā¦ let me please you. i want to feel like i deserve you, let meājust,ā his breath trembles, voice breaking just slightly, so devoutly and longingly you could only take a pause.
and then he glances up.
his eyes glimmer and practically pleads, brows creasing up, and so incredibly desirous it messes with your head. you take your bottom lip amidst your teeth.
barely through your nod, michael's eyes go wide and pries your legs back open, diving down between them and sweetly kissing your inner thighs as a finger twirls around the cotton of the only thing keeping your pretty pussy away from him. the shudder of your breath only urges him further, only cutting short when he reaches too closely, taking another glimpse of you to make certain itās alright.
rather than a nod, or even a simple yes, he receives your hands tangling themselves in his hair, and thatās all the confirmation he needs.
he slides off your panties almost frantically, precariously pulling ātil they fall neatly on the hardwood of the floor, raising your leg over his shoulder as the other locks your leg down in a meek, yet firm grip. michael revels in the sight of you all soaked for him so pretty, tentatively staring before a slight tug of his hair spurs him on, shyly dropping his head between your thighs.
he leaves a soft kiss to you, something experimental as his hot breath fans your cunt, fingertips digging into the back of your knee more so for himself. and without thinking, he licks a long, tantalising stripe from your entrance all the way up to your clit, and your mouth gapes, slipping a whimper from your throat. ām-mikey, th-that feels so goodāā you scarcely manage, words jumbling in your head as you struggle to make them coherent.
your flavour on his tastebuds intoxicate him and cloud his mind, nose bumping against your bud and savouring your taste as he licks up greedily, humming against you, inducing a choked noise out of your mouth. wrapping his lips around your clit, you pull on his hair with a whine.
āyou sound so pretty.ā he smiles into your cunt as his tongue probes you. ātaste sāsweetāā he cuts himself off like he canāt keep away from your taste for long, hungrily burying himself back into you and swirling his tongue around your clit.
it doesnāt take long for his narrowly reserved pace to speed up as he eats you like heās been starved of this for far too long, moans muffling against you as your body jolts at the pleasure. his tongue pushes past your folds, messily fucking you with his tongue, barely acknowledging the saliva running down his chin. every little sound of his vibrates up your spine, mewling at each one.
generously, your juices coat his lips and the surrounding skin, legs almost buckling if not for his hold on you. your breath catches in your throat before you choke out a cry of his name, and his ears instantly perk.
he craves to hear it again.
without thought, or even with him regarding it, he brings two digits to you and buries them in the warmth of your cunt, a sob almost immediately ripping through your throat. he laps at you as if itās the only thing he knows how, nose harshly pushing your clit upward before giving it a suck again.
all he can think about is youāyour smell suffocating him so sweetly, your essence all over his face, how responsive you are, all of it driving further and fogging his head. you have not the slightest clue of what you do to him. he wants so badly for you to fall apart right on his tongue, and heās gonna have it. his tongue enters you again, and you can feel how it drives deeper and deeper, walls fluttering around his muscle as he relishes in your aroma and taste as he loses himself further in you. lewd, filthy noises of him slurping stills in the air, your pants and moans drowning it as your back arches off the mattress, his hand travelling under your thighs to hold your hips down, and your leg instantly closes around his head, only pushing him deeper as his groan hits right to your clit.
his fingers curl inside you again, his eyebrows drawn taut with immersion, eliciting a strangled mix of a whine and a sob from your mouth, quietly gasping reiterates of his name. ābaby,ā he muffles, refusing to stray from your taste, āwanā hear youā¦ā
a vulgar string of drawn-out whimpers fall from your lips before his name slips again in a loud moan, squeezing at your hip as he groans in pure satisfaction, pumping his fingers increasingly hastier, the squelch of your walls hitting his ears so obscene he begins to rock against the mattress.
āmikeyāplease, mh, i think iām g-gonnaā¦ā you barely shove the words out of your mouth as you pant out, legs shaking around his head, waves of pleasure threatening to crash over you with each waking second.
you didnāt have to forewarn him in the slightest. not when he can taste and feel you so undeniably in his mouthāhow the band of your lower tummy tightens as your walls succeed, back fighting to arch off the bed, nails digging into his scalp and tugging on his curls.
āi know, prettyā¦ let go fāme, please, baby. need to taste youāmm, wanā try something,ā he mutters breathlessly, pulling away fleetly to take his digits out of you, tentatively pressing his thumb down on your clit as you writhe at the sensation, ecstacy overwhelming your senses as your orgasm ripples through your body, and michael is quick to attach his mouth back on you to lap at your juices.
āmmpfhāmh, taste as good as yāsoundāoh,ā he moans as he completely engulfs himself into your taste, thumb beginning to lazily draw circles on your bundle of nerves as his tongue plunges into you as if youāre the only thing thatāll quench his perennial thirst, and you pull at his hair, eliciting an elated sound from him.
āt-too much!ā you cry, voice increasing in pitch as your trembling legs unwillingly wrap him into you nearer, contrasting as you wholly try to push him away.
withdrawing himself from you pains him more than he can feel.
but when he does, his eyes meet yours, pupils dilated and swallowing the brown of his iris, and with a brief glance down, his lips gleam in the dim light, drenched in you, chin dripping with your arousal, the sight immediately rushing heat up your neck and into your cheeks.
then his eyes flash with guilt. ābaby,ā he says, voice is trickling with urgency as his tongue darts out to taste yourself on his lips, still covetous even as he apologises, āiām so sorry, pretty, i shouldāve stoppedāām sorry, are you okay?ā his large hand caresses your quivering inner thigh and kneads the skin there, free hand finding perch on the plush of the bed next to your other thigh, propping himself up as the mattress dips with the weight of his knee. his other knee settles beside your hip, the hand that assisted him in climbing on the bed landing on the sheets behind you, his disparate hand never halting motion on your skin.
michaelās eyes flicker between yours, big and hazy, glutted with concern as though heād done something unable to be pardoned. you can only scoff, the tip of your index tracing his jaw without a thought, and you take in the sight of his eyes briefly splaying as your finger wipes your arousal off his jaw. his breath stutters once you reach his chin, flicking your finger off and cupping his cheek as fast as you jerked your finger, gently coaxing him in before your lips meet again in a tender kiss.
he melts into it instantly, the hand rubbing your thigh flying to hold the small of your back. drawing averse, he pants as he murmurs a hot string of babbles of how he adores your taste, a breath-width away from your lips before he delves back, pushing his tongue in your mouth to help you taste your flavour. āyātaste like a dream,ā he sighs into your mouth, smiling against your lips with gratitude more than anything. the flavour of your essence mingled with michaelās own taste is enough to take a precedent swelling moan out of you and into his ears, to which he drinks with the same indebtedness.
heedlessly sliding your heel toward you, your knee lifts and catches itself when it makes the slightest contact with the aching tent in michaelās slacks heād been desperately trying to disregard, a whimper leaving him as quick as his head dips in the crook of your neck, hand holding back from squeezing your skin in a fit of self-restraint. heād been holding back. āmike,ā you mutter just loud enough to reach his ears as he barely manages to lift his head, eyes locking to yours with a critical aching need consumed in his gazeāsomething you canāt bear to pay no heed to. ālet me take you.ā
who are you not to repay him?
your words come sheepish, timid, yet to him it hits with a newfangled ripple of unadulterated need searing ardently through his veins. you gesture to the edge of the bed with a tilt of your chin. he knows better than to ask how despite his struggle to credit the prospect of you taking him in any of the perverted ways that is on his mind. he heaves himself away from you. jointly, you find your way to the contrasting cold of the floorboards from the warmth of his sheets. the cold almost instantly dissipates under the contact of your knees as michael seats himself on the outskirt of the mattress with untrained eyes indulging in how your eyes look under the dim light as your attention flickers to his trousers.
and a rush of deep red amasses into his cheeks, mouth parted, yet producing no sound as he catches his breath at the fleeting recognition. āohāwait,ā he says, his usual soft tone welling with uncertainty as well as a faint, almost eager undercurrentāwhich he canāt veil when your eyes find their way to his once more.
āi canātā¦ā he takes a deep swallow, āno, i canāt let you do that, pretty, you shouldnāt be down there doinā somethinā likeā¦ that,ā he speaks already as though he floundered to make something articulate.
āyouāve helped me, haven't you? canāt i do the same?ā
he stammers as his head tries to conjure a valid reason against yours. ālet me, baby.ā your hand taps his knee, a smile playing at his lips like it always does when you call him that, yet an unfamiliar, almost heated shiver wriggles up his spine at the tap of your finger. āi want to.ā
his dire need garners and gluts his senses as the allure of your glim unwavering causes his reason to fail him, both mingling into something heās impotent to reject. he parts his lips, though not without reluctance. āyouāre sure?ā he asks, however, by this time, your leisure taps move into full-on caresses, and his limbs draw themselves tense. and before you could answer, your unplanned touch ignites a feeling that travels through his veins with haste. āah- ah, itāsā¦ why is itā why doesā¦ okay, okay,ā he qualms as the emergent bulge beneath his pants begins to sore like heās never felt before, his lower abdomen burning. is it supposed to feel like this? he didnāt know it could get this bad, and embarrassment seeps through his bones.
with his wince and agreement, briskly, you tug on his pants as he lifts himself from the sheets so you can slide them off, the fabric leaving his skin also leaving a fire with them as ardour hums everywhere in his body. and as your hands make contact with the waistband of his underwear, an unmistakable wet patch that formed a while ago from his generous amount of precum visible to you, his mind, as well as his heart, racing.
his hands aviate to cover his face when you free him from the confinements of his briefs. as soon as the cold air hits him, his mind races a slew of protests.
youāre too pretty to be down there. this is so dirty. on your knees is so, so dirtyāas if he didnāt just eat you out and would do it for hours if you just let him. what if you think itāsā¦ i dunno, ugly? you shouldnāt be doinā something like this. he shouldnāt have accepted, but how could he not when desire settles and rattles his bones? the words weigh on his tongue until he canāt carry it any longer, lips parting to give way to his protest.
with such tenderness his heart aches, your plush lips wrap around his mauve tip, previously coated in precum with now your saliva, and the words lodge in his throat almost violently as a hearty wail ousts it. your eyes flick up just in time to view the hands shielding his face trembling and moving down, revealing his crimson-painted cheeks with his brows creased and oh, what a sight it is. his hands descend to steal a glimpse of your mouth around his length, and from the mere gander, a whimper slips his throat.
you have never thought of such about him when you finally viewed him. tip slick with so much precum, the mere sight already soaking you again, veins running prettily along his length. if heād been looking at you earlier, heād see the way you were gaping him with such awe. as if he couldnāt get any more perfect, this sure solidified it.
you give him initially shy kitten licks on his tip, whimpers already spilling out of his mouth before you start lapping, savouring the taste of his leaking slit before moving downāthough not without taking a hefty inhale firstāhis big hands finding purchase in your locks.
the sight is so filthy to see. how you meld to him, engulfing his dick and letting him feel the warmth of your mouth, dim light shimmering in the shade of tears stilling in your waterline. his hands twine themselves in your hair and gently tugs as your hands wrap around the area you canāt reach with solely your mouth. lifting your head up and off of him, your tongue traces along his prominent vein, applying pressure with which his head starts to swirl at as his hips jerk without his say. heās grateful he didnāt do that while he was in your mouthāuntil it happens.
your lips envelop him, bringing him back into the warmth of your mouth, swallowing him as your hand experimentally squeezes his base. before you could ask if that felt okay, his hips thrust up into your mouth again, and heās immediately spewing apologies. he loves it so much, and youāll do it again if it means eliciting that mewl out of him again. you pull yourself up from him with a pop, hands working his shaft to replace the absence of your mouth.
āi didnāt mean toā¦ oh, ām sāsorry,ā his words slur as your hand unwavers, and heās sneaking his bottom lip between his teeth as you finding leverage on his shirt, yanking him toward you and colliding your lips together in a hot, muddled kiss, interjecting his effort to suppress the noises slipping from his lips so he could speak. his slick on your tongue transferring to his tastebuds spins his mind as a hand to your hair moves to your cheek.
your arm wraps around his neck, hand tugging on his shirt as he sets out a whimper to your mouth before complying, breaking off the kiss so he can lift his shirt up and over his head only to reattach your lips to his just as quickly as he hurls the fabric to who-knows-where in the room. you break it off once more. āstop apologizing,ā you whisper, squeezing as you pump him, thumb rubbing along his prominent vein glossed in your spit, and a cry tears through him as he pulls himself back with his hands tangling in your hair again. licking a long stripe, your hands settle back near his base anew before you have him back in your mouth, unconsciously humming against him as vibrations shoot up his spine expels itself as a moan.
āth-thatā¦ that feels weird, mgh, do it againā¦ please,ā he mutters breathlessly. your cheeks hollow, and his head throws back as his oozing tip brushes the hind of your throat, his bottom lip quivering when you bob your earnestly. oh, you look perfect like thisāhair tussled from his tugs, lips moulded to his shaft, eyes glossy and cheeks flushed a rosy tint, peeking through your eyelashes to glance at his expression, eyes falling to his abs coated in a light sheen of sweat before shutting your eyes againāsomething he doesnāt fail to miss.
āy-you have such a pretty mouthāah, feels soāā he blabs, cut short by his own whimper. his hips stutter at the feel of you rotating your wrist, one hand moving down from your scalp to caress your cheek, tracing along your jaw with gentle, yet jagged lines as he strains to keep his head steady. as his tip hits the back of your throat once more, you ardently fight your gag reflex, throat tightening around him as he fills with concern. ācan youāngh,ā he cries, ābreathe? o-oh, babyāā his hand draws taut in your hair, and when you peek up, tears are stinging his waterline. ābaby, please,ā he pleads, voice cracking, āi canātā¦ i donāt wanna c-cum like this,ā he divulges, gripping the sheets with his hand formerly on your cheek with a firm hold.
michaelās arm, placed precariously behind him with his hand outward and grasping the sheets for poise, collapses as his strength leaves him, his elbow hitting the mattress. and generously, craving to fulfill his desires, you climb on the bed and move to the left of him as he discerns you with impressive haste, pushing himself back so his legs wonāt dangle out of the mattress anymore.
propping your knees to either side of him, you hover your sopping cunt above his waiting dick as tenderly, he kneads the side of the small of your backāmore so for himself. and when he finally regards what youāre about to do, his object is cut short by his tip prodding your entrance, and your whimpers mingle with the burning aroma of the space.
gradually, sorely, you sink down into him, both of his hands flying to your lower back, nails digging divots into your skin as his cock twitches inside of you, forcing a whine from your throat. heās filling you up, head falling low as whimpers leave you in strings. your hands head for his shoulders as gently, he brings you in until you embrace, tilting his head and whispering tenderly in your ear. āyār doinā so well, maā¦ jusā a littleā m-ore,ā he coos, sighing barely through the latter, unable to mask the garbled moans that escape his mouth.
āo-oh myāmike,ā you choke out, shaking with each inch you descend as your grip on his shoulders grow firm, then weak again. his arms tremble as they assist you in falling into him, whining dulcet in your ear as the feeling of being stuffed overwhelms your system before youāre to the hilt. you pant against his chest as he does your head, his hand tracing leisure, consoling circles to your skin.
the moment you finally pull off him, the sweat coating his torso clings to your shirt before you fully asunder. the hold you have on his shoulders linger as you begin to move, his breaths coming ragged and in a medley of bursts and drags. āhoh, youā¦ā he swallows deeply, āyāfeel sā warm, so tightā¦ oh, youāre sātightādidnāt know it felt like this, oh,ā he cries, and when your head lifts, tears are threatening to fall and lacquer a watery line down his cheeks. the sight alone makes you clench down on him, drawing a groan from deep in his chest and sending searing flurries of heat through his veins as you find your rhythm.
his hands work to guide your hips, bucking his up with every pummel he ushers from you, clit brutally bumping against his pelvis with each. his name falls from you, breathy and mingled with his plethora of babbles as your nails bore crescents in his shoulders, your eyelids fluttering shut and back open just to see the blissed out expression adorned on his comely face. his thumb caressing your inner hip falters when you roll your hips on him without his guidance, his hands tightening around you and rocking you down, and with it, a tear that was stilled in his eyes finally founders and leaves a line of salty liquid as it falls, then anotherābut that one mixes in his sweat. the feeling of your walls suffocating him leaves him delirious, but the notion of you exhausting yourself up there pains him, and oh, he doesnāt know how much longer he can keep still. and it doesnāt at all take long for him to act.
his hands grasp stiff and unyielding to your hips, flipping you both and stealing you of your breath as he snaps his hips and rips a lewd sound that lands somewhere between a mewl and a cry from your achy throat. he grabs firm to your shirt and briskly pulls it up and over your head and off to somewhere in the room as swiftly as he had flipped you.
he gapes at you from this newfound angle of being on top of you, and it knocks a strained grunt out of his parted lips as he begins to move. āmikey, w-whatāah! mh, ke-keep going, pleaseā¦ā you sob as his dick drags in your gummied walls, melding each ridge and vein of him into you and stretching you impossibly more than you already have been. eyes ripping from yours, his burning stare is pulled to where you two join, and michael ogles at how his cock continuously buries and disappears into the warmth of your sweet cunt. each thrust forms a frothy ring of his precum and your arousal at his base, his eyes eagerly drinking up the sight before his fixation moves just slightly up.
his pupils blow wide when they land on the swell outline of his dick in your tummy, and from the sight alone he chokes out a strangled moan. āamā¦ā he pants as his hands move near your navel, āam i doinā that?ā he presses lightly on your abdomen as he bucks his hips a tad harsher than intended, and your body quivers, back arching off the sheets as his tip dotingly kisses your cervix, letting his head fall as well as his jaw.
with the shift in your positions, the feverish newfound angle has his cock hitting deep into the sponge tissue of your sex, and your mouth gapes. āth-there! right there, mikey, pleaseā¦ā your whimpers are drowned by the lewd noises of his pelvis slamming against your moist skin as his pace grows relentless at your spur.
all that consumes him is how your hot cunt sucks him in and the filthy squelch that comes with it. his dewy eyes dart between your disheveled face and the curve of his dick bulging from your stomach, and when your walls clamp down on him again, he shuts his eyes, the salty droplets that had settled in the rim of his eyes rolling down his rouge tinted cheeks and falling from his chin. āyouāreā¦ yār squeezinā meāhoh,ā he moans, head reeling as his hands hastily shrithe to envelope your torso, slogging to refrain from collapsing on you as he lowers until youāre wholly flush against his clammy chest. he strains a throaty mix of a huff and a whine against your cheek before smashing his lips onto yours in a searing kiss, his hand caressing your side and leaving heat where it was once placed.
each snap of his hips have him continuously ramming into and abusing the sweet dip in the inlay of your womb. the bedframe gashing the paint off the wall with every rock accompanies the wet plaps of skin slapping skin and the descants of your fused moansāsounds that send tingles through michaelās bodyāsounds heās eager to devour. his swollen lips trails wet kisses down to your lower lip, your chin, and to your jaw, and you let your head fall back only for michael to capture your lips in his again, your raised head only deepening the sloppy motions of your mouth against his, and you squirm as you struggle to keep up, for each buck of his hips swirls your head absurdly further.
his head falls into the dip of your neck, panting against your skin, your pussy pulsing around his length as your abdomen twists. āmh, mikey, hoh! ām s-sssso close,ā you choke, hands clutching at his shoulders and the flesh of his upper arms as you clamp around him, suctioning his girth deliciously as he brings a hand to return to your belly, the pressure from his wring reducing your mind to a haze of nothing but him.
āi-iām close too, ohmyā oh, wh-where should iā¦ do i do itāā heās cut short by his own cry and swallow, āinside? wanā me to pull out?ā
you claw at his back, only mustering a frantic shake of your head, holding him firm in place, his large hand once on your belly trembling as he takes a soft hold to your cheek. the rhythmic pace of his thrusts grow sloppy, overbrimming with primal need, to which your sight distorts ātil youāre convinced the whites clouding your vision are clusters of stars.
the hot coil in your lower abdomen snaps when he fills you to the hilt again, your body falling limp, cunt throbbing around him as ripples of pleasure glut your being, creaming his dick and gushing on the sheets as he helps you ride out your orgasm. michaelās mouth hangs open, slurring a series of moans and incohesive blabs as he soaks in every contortion of your face, the bucking of his hips turning desperate. he buries himself in you wholly when his warm seed spills and earnestly coats your velvety walls in white, filling you so full with his release it shows with a mere glance at your tummy.
the both of you stay like this for a little whileāpanting against each otherās skin as he stills inside of you, the dripping of cum spilling out your sopping cunt and droplets running down his length eliciting quivers out of you two until he slowly drags his leaking cock out of the warmth of your sex. āareā¦ are you okay?ā he breathes before raising his head from the comfort of the curve of your neck, meeting your dazed eyes as his thumb grazes your cheekbone.Ā
his curls cling to the clammy skin of his forehead, eyes hazy and pupils blown wide, lips red and swollen. āmhm,ā you hum, nodding your head as a smile adorns his elated face. with one last peck to your lips, he heaves himself up and off the mattress, heading to his restroom and back with a cloth before he settles himself between your aching thighs again. his cheeks flush a deep red upon the sight, shyly swiping the cloth to wipe away the mingled essences of the both of you, and as he progresses closer to your core, your body flinches and some of his seed seeps further out of you, and his teeth tug on his lower lip as he canāt seem to pull his eyes away.
when he finishes up, he plants a tender kiss to your inner thigh. he then waits outside the door of the restroom as you use the toilet a few minutes later. by this time, you two are dressed back up, although hodieral in pyjama attire.
the moment he hears the twist of the doorknob and you swinging the door open, heās already on youālips crashing onto yours in a messy, yet gentle kiss as he devours each of your laughs, a smile tugging on the corners of his lips as he backs you into the bed and sends the both of you collapsing onto the plush pillows.
the final thing youāre able to recall is how his lips travel to your cheek, leaving sweet pecks in between āthank youās before your eyelids give out on you.
šRISā”į® ā ā įÆā ā this took me a little to write cause this is my debut fic on mjblrā¦. i wanted to make certain i didnāt get anything wrong golly. thank you SOSOSOSO much for reading and if you enjoyed it make sure to SMASH that reblog button
Oh, Michael! š„¹ You told us āSee you in Julyā and you meant that. Thank you for always finding a way to remind us that your love is everlasting āØ
šš¶šš: age gap (reader is in her mid/late 20s and michael is in his 40s), cheating, unhappy relationship, dom mike, sub reader, implied chubby/curvy reader, p in v, pussy eating, unprotected sex, dirty talk, praise, creampie, nanny reader
šššš¹ šøšššš: ššš (I know)
šš¾ššš: navigation | masterlist
š few days ago, you decided it was finally time to get a part-time job.
Between college classes, studying, and trying to maintain some semblance of a social life, you didn't need anything too demanding. Still, having a little extra money in your pocket certainly wouldn't hurt.
You'd always been good with kids. Years of babysitting younger cousins had made looking after children feel almost second nature, so when you stumbled across an opening for a nanny position, it seemed like the perfect fit. Flexible hours, decent pay, and work you already knew you enjoyed. Simple.
Or so you thought.
The application itself had been straightforward enough, and you certainly hadn't expected a response so quickly. What you expected even less was the name attached to the acceptance email sitting in your inbox.
Michael Jackson.
You had stared at the screen for a solid minute before rereading it. Then another minute after that. Surely there had to be another Michael Jackson.
There wasn't.
Somehow, against all odds, you'd just been hired as the nanny for one of the most famous people on the planet.
You hadn't submitted some special application. You hadn't pulled strings or known somebody who knew somebody. You had simply applied for a nanny position because you needed a part-time job. And somehow, that had led here.
The days leading up to your first shift weren't much better. Every time you remembered where you'd be working, your stomach performed a small acrobatic routine. You spent an embarrassing amount of time debating what to wear, eventually settling on something professional but comfortable. The night before, you barely slept.
Every possible scenario ran through your mind. What if the children didn't like you? What if you accidentally broke something expensive? What if you got lost inside the house? What if Michael Jackson himself answered the door?
That last thought was ridiculous. Surely someone else would greet you.
Still, by the time the morning of your first day arrived, your nerves were stretched tighter than piano wire.
The drive to the estate was longer than you'd anticipated. The familiar suburban roads gradually gave way to winding streets lined with towering trees, the scenery growing quieter and more secluded with every mile.
By the time the massive iron gates appeared in front of you, your stomach had already begun twisting itself into knots. You were used to small apartments and campus coffee shops, not sprawling estates that looked like they belonged in a movie.
This was ridiculous.
When the car finally pulled up the long, gravel driveway, you found yourself staring up at the house in silence. It was beautiful, sure, but it was also intimidating. It was a place of quiet elegance and old money, a place where every blade of grass seemed perfectly in place.
Taking a deep breath to steady your racing heart, you grabbed your bag and stepped out of the car. It was just a job. That was all. You were here to look after three children, earn a paycheck, and hopefully not embarrass yourself in front of a global superstar.
Easy.
The lie sounded considerably less convincing the closer you got to the front door.
Before you could knock, the front door swung open. You instinctively straightened.
But instead of the superstar you'd seen plastered across magazine covers and television screens for years, you were greeted by a woman in a crisp professional uniform.
"You must be the new nanny," she said, stepping aside to usher you into the foyer. "Come in, please. Don't just stand there outside."
As you stepped inside, the first thing that hit you was the the scent of something expensive, like sandalwood and fresh lilies. The foyer was massive, with high ceilings and polished floors that made your footsteps echo. It was beautiful.
"I'm Martha," the woman said, leading you down a wide hallway. "I handle the household management here. The children are currently in the playroom, but Mr. Jackson is in the study. He'll want to greet you properly once you've had a moment to settle in and meet the little ones."
She led you toward a set of large, arched doors at the end of the hall. As you walked, you could hear the faint, muffled sound of laughter and high pitched voices coming from somewhere deeper in the house. It was a sharp, human contrast to the quiet elegance of the hallway.
"Prince, Paris, and Blanket," Martha continued, her voice softening just a fraction. "They can be a handful, especially Prince, but they're good children. Once you get to know them, you'll see."
She pushed open the playroom doors, and the sudden burst of energy nearly knocked you back. The room was bright, filled with sunlight and scattered toys, and there they were, three kids who were about to become your entire world in the months to come.
Martha smiled and stepped back, leaving you alone in the center of the playroom. "I'll go let Mr. Jackson know you've arrived. He'll be with you in a moment." With a polite nod, she disappeared back into the hallway, the heavy doors clicking shut behind her.
The sudden silence was short lived.
Three pairs of curious eyes locked onto you, their play momentarily forgotten. They were a lively, chaotic blur of motion and color, the room a minefield of toy blocks and stuffed animals.
Paris was the first to move. She approached you with a cautious but curious expression, her small hand gripping a drawing. "Are you really going to stay here with us?" she asked, holding the paper up for you to see. It was a colorful, abstract sketch of a cat, the lines bold and confident.
"I sure am," you said, kneeling down to her level. "And that's a really great drawing.ā
"Thank you," she beamed, her face lighting up with pride.
Beside her, Prince stood with his arms crossed, looking you up and down with a skeptic expression. "Do you know how to play hide and seek?" he asked, his voice serious.
"I'm pretty good at it," you replied, offering them a small, genuine smile. "But I'm even better at finding people."
Blanket, the youngest, had already wandered over to you, tugging on the hem of your shirt and pointing toward a large pile of pillows in the corner. "Can we make a fort?" he asked, his eyes wide and hopeful.
Before you could answer, the sound of the door opening again drew your attention. You turned, and there he was.
Michael Jackson stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame. He wasn't wearing the flashy stage clothes you'd seen in photos; he wore simple black trousers and a loose white button down shirt with the sleeves rolled up. His expression was calm, but as he looked at you, there was a flicker of curiosity in his dark eyes. He didn't speak right away; he just watched you, taking in the sight of you sitting on the floor with his children. Then he smiled.
"Well, that was fast," Michael said from the doorway. Prince immediately pointed at you. "She's good at hide and seek."
"I haven't even played yet," you laughed, not yet really registering that Michael Jackson was standing right there. "Yeah, but she said she's good at it," Prince argued.
Michael covered a smile with his hand. "That's all the proof you need?"
"Yep."
Then it clicked. You froze for a split second, your heart performing a frantic, uneven rhythm against your ribs.Ā Holy shit,Ā your brain screamed.Ā Itās actually him. Itās really him.
Internally, you were spiraling.
The Michael Jackson you'd seen in magazines and on television had always felt larger than life, someone distant and untouchable. But standing here, in the middle of a playroom with three children arguing over fort-building materials, he suddenly felt very real.
And he was looking right at you.
A thousand ridiculous thoughts rushed through your head all at once. Was your hair a mess from the drive? Did you have something on your shirt? Why were your palms suddenly sweating?
Don't trip. Don't stutter. Don't make a fool of yourself.
You forced yourself to take a steady breath and pushed the panic aside. You weren't here as a fan. You were here to do a job. The last thing you wanted was for him to think you were some starstruck girl who had wandered into his house by accident.
Rising to your feet, you smoothed your hands over your clothes and offered him a small smile. Hopefully it came across as polite and professional.
Hopefully it didn't reveal the fact that your heart was currently trying to beat its way out of your chest.
"Hello," you said, rising to your feet and offering him a small smile. "I'm [Name]. It's a pleasure to finally meet you, Mr. Jackson."
For a moment, his gaze lingered on you. Not in an uncomfortable wayājust long enough to suggest he was taking you in properly.
"The pleasure is mine," he replied warmly.
Before either of you could say anything else, Blanket tugged on your sleeve.
"We're building a fort," he announced.
A smile immediately spread across Michael's face.
"Are you now?"
Blanket nodded enthusiastically. "A huge one."
"[Name] said she'd help."
Michael's eyes flickered back to yours, amusement dancing in them.
"Well, sounds like you've already been recruited."
You laughed softly. "I didn't realize I'd be getting assigned duties within the first five minutes."
"Oh, they're very efficient around here," he said with a straight face.
Paris giggled.
"They've been very welcoming," you added. "Blanket was just pitching the fort idea before you came in."
"A fort sounds like a wonderful idea, Blanket," Michael said, stepping further into the room.
His entire demeanor seemed to soften as he approached his children. He reached down and ruffled Blanket's hair, earning an immediate grin from the little boy.
"But don't wear yourselves out too much, alright?" he continued, glancing between Prince and Paris. "You have a very busy day of playing tomorrow."
"Dad," Prince groaned dramatically.
"What?"
"We play every day."
"Exactly," Michael replied. "Which means you gotta pace yourselves."
The children immediately dissolved into protests, their complaints overlapping one another as they insisted they weren't tired in the slightest. Michael only laughed at their dramatic reactions, shaking his head fondly. There was something almost infectious about the warmth he carried around them. The way he looked at his children made it painfully obvious how much he adored them.
After a few moments, his attention drifted back to you.
"Since you'll be spending a lot of time here, why don't we take a quick tour?" he suggested. His voice was easy and inviting, never demanding. "I just want to make sure you know where everything is. It's a big house, and it can be pretty easy to get lost."
You couldn't help but glance down the seemingly endless hallway stretching before you. Judging by the size of the place alone, he was probably right.
"That would be lovely, thank you."
A small smile tugged at his lips before he motioned for you to follow. As the two of you left the playroom behind, the sounds of the children arguing over fort-building supplies gradually faded into the background.
The house was even more impressive once you saw it properly. Every hallway seemed to lead to another wing, every room larger than the last. Michael guided you through it all with quiet patience, pointing out the library, the dining room, various sitting areas, and the sprawling gardens visible through the tall windows. He never rushed through his explanations, occasionally glancing your way to make sure you were keeping up.
Despite your nerves, you found yourself slowly relaxing in his company.
As you approached the grand staircase, Michael's pace slowed until he eventually came to a stop. His expression shifted slightly, as though he had just remembered something important.
"There is one thing I'd like to ask you."
You turned your attention toward him immediately.
"My schedule can be a little unpredictable sometimes," he explained. "There are periods where rehearsals run late or work keeps me away from home longer than expected. On those occasions, would you be comfortable staying here overnight?"
For a moment, you blinked.
It wasn't an unreasonable request. In fact, considering the circumstances, it made perfect sense. Still, the responsibility behind it wasn't lost on you.
"You'd have your own guest room, of course," he added. "I just like knowing someone is here with the children when I can't be."
The concern in his voice was genuine.
"Oh," you said, offering him a reassuring smile. "Yeah, that's completely fine. I don't mind at all."
The visible relief that crossed his features made it seem as though he'd been more worried about your answer than he'd let on.
"That's good to hear," he replied softly. "Thank you."
For a brief moment, the conversation seemed finished. Michael started to continue down the hallway before hesitating. When he looked back at you, there was something almost shy in his expression.
"And please," he said after a small pause, "you don't have to call me Mr. Jackson."
Your eyebrows lifted slightly.
"I don't?" A quiet laugh escaped him. "No. It makes me feel a lot older than I actually am."
That finally earned a laugh from you.
"Alright then, Michael." Something about hearing his name from your lips seemed to brighten his smile.
"Yeah," he said softly. "Michael is fine."
Settling in with the Jackson family was easier than you ever could have anticipated. The children were delightful little things, and you quickly found yourself becoming a fixture in their daily lives.
You spent your afternoons in a blur of activity. The siblings were funny as a trio.
"Can we build a fort?" Blanket would ask.
"A giant one?" you would ask back.
"A giant one."
"With blankets?"
"Obviously."
Prince groaned dramatically. "He always wants a fort."
"Because forts are cool."
"No," Paris corrected. "Because you're five."
Or sitting quietly on the floor to help Paris with her coloring books, running around the gardens, playing endless games of hide and seek with Prince. They were a handful, sure, but they were sweet, and they made the massive house feel warm and alive.
And then there was Michael.
Being around Michael quickly became one of the easiest parts of your day. Despite everything he wasāthe fame, the success, the larger-than-life reputationāhe never made you feel intimidated. He was unfailingly kind and respectful, always mindful of your space and never overstepping, yet there was a warmth about him that drew people in without him even trying.
Before long, you found yourself looking forward to the quiet moments you happened to share.
Sometimes it was a brief conversation in the kitchen while you prepared snacks for the children. Other times, you'd run into him late in the evening after finally getting the kids settled for bed, only for a quick greeting to turn into a twenty-minute conversation.
The topics themselves were rarely anything extraordinary. You'd tell him about a book you'd been reading, a class you hoped to take in college, or some funny thing one of the children had said earlier that day. In return, he'd share stories from his travels, his work, or whatever happened to be on his mind.
What surprised you most was how attentively he listened.
Most people listened just enough to respond. Michael listened because he genuinely wanted to hear what you had to say. He remembered little details from previous conversations, asked thoughtful questions, and somehow always made you feel as though whatever you were talking about was the most interesting thing in the world.
It was a small thing, really.
But there was something comforting about the way his eyes softened whenever you spoke, as if he was completely present in the moment and nowhere else he'd rather be.
Then, as expected, first crack in your composure appeared.
It was a warm afternoon, and you were wearing a simple, light sundress, something easy and comfortable. As you were walking past the library, Michael stepped out, catching your eye. He paused, his gaze lingering for just a second.
"That color really suits you," he said softly, a small, appreciative smile playing on his lips. "It compliments you beautifully."
You smiled bashfully and looked down at your dress. "This old thing?"
At that he frowned, and countered, "No, don't do that."
Now you looked at him with a slightly confused expression, "Do what?"
"The thing where somebody compliments you and you immediately insult yourself." You blinked. "I'm serious," he continued. "You look nice. Just say thank you."
A reluctant smile tugged at your lips. "Thank you."
"There. See? Much easier."
Later that night, you finally made it home.
The apartment greeted you with the familiar smell of takeout containers and the faint glow of the television illuminating the living room. Your boyfriend was exactly where you expected him to be, stretched across the couch with his phone in hand.
"Hey," you greeted, kicking off your shoes near the door.
"Hey, babe."
You set your bag down and wandered into the kitchen for a glass of water.
"Today was actually pretty good," you said. "The kids were adorable. Prince tried helping me with the laundry." A small chuckle escaped you at the memory.
"He ended up folding everything into little squares. It was sweet, but I had to redo half of it."
"Mhm."
You glanced toward the living room. His eyes never left his phone. Still, you continued.
"Blanket spent most of the afternoon trying to convince everyone to build a blanket fort. Apparently it was a matter of national importance." That earned a brief laugh.
"Sounds about right." You smiled faintly and leaned against the kitchen counter.
The conversation stalled. For a moment, all you could hear was the soft clicking of his thumb against the screen and the distant noise of the television.
"It's strange," you found yourself saying. "That house." This finally seemed to get a little more of his attention. "What about it?"
"I don't know." You shrugged. "It's just... different."
"Different how?"
You searched for the right words. "Lively, I guess. There's always something going on. Even when everything's quiet, it never really feels empty." He nodded absentmindedly. "Michael was showing me around today, and somehow we ended up talking about my classes for like twenty minutes."
"That's nice." His response came automatically. The kind of response people give when they're listening just enough to be polite. You looked down at your glass.
"Yeah."
Silence settled between you again. You hated how disappointed that made you feel. Not because he'd said anything wrong. He hadn't. He wasn't being cruel or rude. He wasn't starting a fight. He wasn't even ignoring you entirely.
But while you were standing here trying to tell him about your day, it felt as though his attention was somewhere else entirely. A few months ago, he would've asked questions. Now, it felt like he was simply waiting for the conversation to end.
"Anyway," you said quietly, forcing a smile. "I think I'm gonna take a shower."
"Okay, babe." His eyes never left the screen. As you turned toward the hallway, an uncomfortable feeling settled in your chest.
For the first time, you found yourself comparing the way people listened to you. And that thought bothered you more than you wanted to admit.
A few days later, you were babysitting for Michael again. In the kitchen, you reached for a glass on a high shelf when you felt him step in behind you.
āNeed a hand with that?ā Michaelās voice was low, just beside your ear.
āOh! No, Iāve almost got it,ā you said, stretching your fingers toward the rim of the glass.
Before you could grab it, his arm lifted past yours, brushing lightly against you as he took it down with ease. When he handed it over, he didnāt immediately let go. His fingers lingered against yours, his thumb tracing a slow, absent motion across the back of your handāfar too deliberate to feel accidental.
The air in the kitchen seemed to shift, suddenly heavier. You froze, your breath catching as you looked up at him. He was already watching you. His gaze held yours, steady and searching, like he was waiting for something.
His hand stayed there a moment longer, warm against yours, before he finally let go.
āThere you go,ā he said with a small smile.
There was no explanation for it.
Or at least none that you were willing to give yourself.
After that afternoon in the kitchen, neither of you ever mentioned what had happened. Michael continued on as though everything was perfectly normal. He was still polite, still thoughtful, still the same gentle man you'd come to know over the past few weeks. If anything, he seemed even more careful around you.
And yet, despite the lack of words, something had shifted.
You began noticing it in the smallest moments. A hand brushing yours when he passed you a plate during dinner. Fingers lingering against your palm for a second longer than necessary when he handed you a book or a cup of coffee. Nothing inappropriate. Nothing you could point to and confidently call intentional.
Just enough to leave you wondering.
The looks were somehow worse.
More than once, you'd glance up from whatever you were doing only to find his eyes already on you. Sometimes from across the room while the children played. Other times from the doorway of the kitchen while you prepared snacks. He never stared for long. The moment your eyes met, a small smile would tug at his lips before he looked away again and continued whatever he had been doing.
It should have been harmless. Maybe it was harmless, but you found yourself thinking about it anyway.
The problem was that Michael noticed things.
He noticed when you were tired. He noticed when you seemed stressed after class. He remembered small details from conversations you'd had weeks ago and somehow always knew exactly what questions to ask.
It was such a simple thing, and yet it felt surprisingly rare. Your boyfriend used to be like that, at least, you thought he used to be.
Lately, your conversations had become shorter and shorter. Calls went unanswered. Messages sat unopened for hours. When he did respond, it often felt like he was only half paying attention, his mind somewhere else entirely.
At first you told yourself it was just a rough patch. Everyone got busy. Everyone got distracted.
But the excuses became harder to make when days started passing without a single meaningful conversation. The contrast was impossible to ignore.
You hated yourself a little for noticing it.
Every time Michael remembered something you'd mentioned in passing. Every time he asked how an exam had gone. Every time he stopped what he was doing just to genuinely listen to your answer.
You weren't looking for reasons to compare them, they just kept presenting themselves. And the more they did, the more unsettled you became, because somewhere along the way, those lingering touches had stopped surprising you. And that realization was far more dangerous than any accidental brush of hands could ever be.
Once again, you fell into the comfortable rhythm you came to appreciate over the last few months. After dinner came baths, pajamas, and the endless negotiations that accompanied bedtime.
"One story," you told Blanket firmly as you tucked him beneath the covers.
"Three."
"One."
"Two."
You narrowed your eyes. He narrowed his right back.
"One."
Blanket sighed dramatically, as though you'd personally ruined his entire week.
"Fine."
Across the room, Paris giggled into her pillow.
Prince looked up from the book in his lap. "You know he does this every night, right?"
"I've noticed."
"And it works every time."
"It does not."
"It kinda does," Paris corrected. You gasped in mock offense. The children dissolved into laughter, the sound warming something in your chest.
You'd only been with the family for a couple of months, but moments like this had already become familiar. Comfortable. Easy.
By the time the final story had been read and the last glass of water delivered, the children had begun drifting off one by one. Paris was the first. Prince fought sleep with admirable determination before eventually losing the battle.
Blanket lasted longest of all, "You'll be here tomorrow, right?" he mumbled sleepily. You smiled.
"Of course."
"Promise?"
"I promise."
Satisfied, he finally closed his eyes. The room fell quiet.
For a few moments, you simply sat there, listening to the soft hum of the air conditioning and the steady rhythm of three sleeping children. Then your eyes drifted toward the clock.
10:47 PM.
Michael had called earlier that afternoon to explain that rehearsals were running late. He'd likely be gone most of the night.
Which meant you'd be staying over.
You quietly slipped from the room, careful not to wake anyone, and made your way downstairs.
The house felt entirely different at night.
The laughter and noise that usually filled it had faded away, leaving only silence behind. Moonlight spilled through the tall windows, casting pale ribbons of silver across the polished floors. You wandered into the living room and sank onto one of the couches.
Almost immediately, your eyes flickered toward the telephone sitting on the side table. Nothing. No missed calls. No messages. No voicemail. Your stomach sank.
Again.
You'd spoken to your boyfriend for less than ten minutes over the past three days. At first you'd made excuses. He was busy. Work was stressful. Life happened.
But lately it felt as though every conversation had become an obligation. Something to get through. Not something either of you actually looked forward to anymore.
You stared at the phone for another moment before reaching for it. Maybe he'd just forgotten, or got distracted. Maybeā
The line rang. Once. Twice. Three times. Eventually he picked up.
"Hey." No enthusiasm. No warmth.
Just... hey.
"Hi." A pause. "What's up?" You swallowed.
"I was just calling."
"Okay."
The silence stretched. You found yourself gripping the receiver tighter. "I haven't heard from you all day." Another pause.
"Yeah. I've been busy." Something sharp twisted in your chest.
"You've been busy for three days." A sigh crackled through the line.
"[Name]..."
"No, seriously." You leaned forward, frustration bubbling to the surface. "I'm not asking for a three-hour conversation. I'm asking for a phone call."
"I texted you."
"You sent me two words."
"It still counts." A humorless laugh escaped you. "Wow."
"What?"
"You really think that's the same thing?" His own patience seemed to snap. "Why are we even arguing about this?"
"Because I'm tired."
"Tired of what?"
"Tired of feeling like I'm bothering you every time I want to talk to my own boyfriend." Silence. Then another sigh. Louder this time, more irritated. "You're blowing this way out of proportion."
Your eyes squeezed shut. There it was.
Every single time.
Any time you tried talking about something that upset you, somehow you became the problem. "I'm not blowing it out of proportion."
"You are."
"No, I'm telling you how I feel."
"And I'm telling you that you're overthinking everything." The words hit harder than they should have. Because part of you already knew they weren't true.
You weren't overthinking, you were lonely. And somehow that felt worse. "You know what?" you said quietly.
"What?"
"Forget it."
"[Name]ā"
"No." Your voice cracked slightly. "I don't want to do this right now." Before he could answer, you hung up, the click echoed through the empty room.
For a long moment, you simply sat there staring at the receiver in your hand. The silence that followed felt deafening. Slowly, you set the phone back onto its cradle.
You told yourself not to cry. You were too old to cry over a stupid phone call. Too old to cry over a relationship that had clearly been falling apart for months.
And yet the first tear slipped down your cheek anyway. Then another. You quickly wiped them away, but more followed.
Soon your vision blurred completely. You curled slightly into yourself on the couch, pressing the heel of your palm against your eyes as quiet sobs shook your shoulders.
The massive house around you remained silent. No television, no laughter, no conversation. Just you.
And the overwhelming realization that somewhere along the way, you'd stopped feeling loved. That was what hurt the most.
You didn't hear the front door open, and you also didn't hear the quiet footsteps crossing the foyer. You didn't hear anything at all.
The argument kept replaying in your head, each word feeling worse now that the anger had worn off. Your chest hurt. Your eyes burned. No matter how many times you wiped at your face, fresh tears kept slipping free.
You were so caught up in your misery that you nearly jumped when a familiar voice spoke.
"[Name]?" Your head snapped up.
Michael stood at the entrance of the living room. He looked tired from a long day, dark, smooth hair slightly disheveled and the sleeves of his shirt rolled to his forearms.
The moment his eyes landed on your tear-streaked face, his entire expression changed. Concern immediately replaced whatever exhaustion he'd been carrying.
"What happened?" You quickly looked away. "Nothing." The answer came too fast. Too automatic.
Michael's eyebrows drew together. "[Name]."
The simple way he said your name almost made you cry harder. You laughed weakly through your tears. "I'm okay."
"No, you're not."
His voice was gentle. Not accusing. Not demanding. Just concerned.
He crossed the room and sat down beside you, leaving enough space that you wouldn't feel crowded. For a few moments, neither of you spoke.
The silence wasn't uncomfortable, it was patient, like he was willing to wait as long as you needed. Eventually, you let out a shaky breath.
"We had a fight." His expression softened in understanding. "Your boyfriend?"
You nodded. Michael remained quiet, allowing you to continue at your own pace. And somehow that made everything spill out.
All the missed phone calls, all the unanswered texts, and the way every conversation felt forced lately.
The feeling that no matter how hard you tried, you couldn't seem to reach him anymore. You hated how emotional you sounded. Hated how pathetic it all felt once spoken aloud.
But Michael never interrupted, just quietly let you rant. He listened.
By the time you finished, tears were rolling freely down your cheeks again. For a long moment, he said nothing. Then his hand carefully settled over yours. The gesture was small, steady and comforting.
And somehow it undid you completely. His thumb brushed lightly across your knuckles.
"You've been carrying that by yourself?" You looked down.
"I guess." His jaw tightened.
Not in anger toward you. In anger for you. What imbecile treats his lady that way?
Slowly, he reached up and brushed a tear from your cheek. The touch was so gentle it almost hurt. "Hey," he said quietly. Your eyes lifted to his. The sadness in his expression caught you off guard.
As though seeing you like this genuinely upset him. "You don't deserve that." Fresh tears immediately filled your eyes. You looked away. But Michael simply shook his head. "No." His voice was soft but firm. "You don't."
Another tear slipped free. Without thinking, his hand rose to your cheek again. This time he didn't pull away immediately.
"Sweetheart..." The word slipped out naturally. As though he couldn't stand seeing you cry. As though every protective instinct in him had suddenly come alive.
Your breath caught. "You deserve someone who listens when you speak." His thumb gently brushed beneath your eye. "You deserve someone who makes time for you." Your lower lip trembled. "You deserve to feel loved."
That was what broke you.
Because somewhere deep down, you'd started wondering if maybe expecting those things was asking too much.
And hearing someone tell you otherwise felt like having a weight lifted from your chest. "Oh, [Name]..." Michael murmured when another sob escaped you. This time you didn't fight it.
You leaned toward him instinctively. Seeking comfort and warmth.
Seeking something solid to hold onto. The moment you did, Michael wrapped his arms around you in a soothing embrace without hesitation.
His hand settled between your shoulder blades as he pulled you gently against his side. "It's okay," he whispered.
The tears came harder. And Michael held you through every single one.
His hand moved slowly up and down your back, soothing and steady.
"It's okay," he whispered again, his voice a low, soothing rumble against your ear. He didn't pull away. If anything, his hold tightened slightly, one hand moving slowly up and down your back as though he could somehow soothe away all the hurt that had built up inside you. The steady rhythm of it was comforting, grounding. For the first time all evening, you didn't feel alone.
Eventually, Michael pulled back just enough to look at you properly. His hands rose to your face, carefully cradling your cheeks as though you were something precious. His thumbs swept beneath your eyes, brushing away the tears that continued to slip free despite your best efforts to stop them.
"Hey," he murmured softly. You kept your gaze lowered. "Sweetheart."
The endearment was so gentle that it made your chest ache.
"Look at me." Reluctantly, your eyes lifted to meet his. The sadness in his expression nearly broke your heart. No pity, just genuine concern.
Michael's gaze searched your face for a moment before he let out a quiet sigh. "A girl like you should never have to beg for someone's attention." A fresh tear slipped down your cheek.
His thumb caught it before it could fall.
"You know what I see almost every day?" he continued softly. "I see someone who gives so much of herself to everyone around her. I see how you sit with Paris when she wants to show you every drawing she's made that week. I see how patient you are when Prince asks a hundred questions at once. I see the way Blanket lights up the second you walk into a room."
Your lower lip trembled. Michael smiled sadly. "And somehow you convinced yourself that asking for a phone call is asking too much?"
You looked away. Because hearing it out loud made it sound ridiculous. His hand gently guided your face back toward him.
"No." His voice was quiet, but firm. "It isn't."
The room fell silent for a moment.
"You make people feel cared for," he continued, his gaze never leaving yours. "You make this house feel warmer. The kids adore you. Martha adores you. Lord knows Bill won't stop talking about how good you are for 'em."
A weak laugh escaped through your tears. Michael's smile softened. "See?"
His thumb brushed across your cheek again.
"You're so busy makin' sure everyone else feel loved that you forgot you're supposed to receive that same love in return."
The tears came harder then, because for the first time in weeks, someone was saying exactly what you needed to hear.
Michael watched you quietly for a moment before his expression softened even further.
"You're a wonderful, smart girl, angel." The nickname slipped out so naturally it didn't even seem intentional.
His words felt like honey, smoothing over the rough edges of your soul. You felt yourself melting, the frustration of the fight with your boyfriend slowly dissolving.
It was the kind of praise you hadn't realized you were starving for. Under his gaze, you didn't feel like a mess; you felt seen.
You looked up at him through your wet eyelashes, and he gazed right back at you. You noticed the way his gaze lingered on your lips before drifting back to your eyes, and your heart began to race for a completely different reason. The silence that followed was charged. The air between you felt sensual, electric, and sweet.
"It's okay," he whispered again, his voice a low, soothing rumble against your ear. He didn't pull away; instead, he tightened his hold just a fraction, as if he could physically shield you from the heartache of the last few hours.
He eventually pulled back just enough to look at you, his hands moving from your back to gently cup your face. His thumbs traced the line of your cheekbones, catching the last few stray tears with a tenderness that made your heart ache.
"Look at me," he murmured, his eyes searching yours. "A girl like you... someone so smart, so incredibly kind... you should never have to feel like you're a burden just for wantin' some love"
You let out a shaky, uneven breath, your eyes fluttering shut for a second as you leaned into his warmth. The heat from his palms felt so good against your skin, a stark contrast to the cold, lonely feeling that had been sitting in your chest all night.
"You have this way of making everything around you better," he continued, his voice dropping to a soft, melodic hush. He wasn't trying to win an argument or make a point; he was just talking to you, reallyĀ seeingĀ you. "The way you handle the kids, the way you just... exist in a room. You're so bright, angel. A girl as beautiful and special as you should be celebrated every single day. You should be someone's entire world, not an afterthought."
His words felt like honey, smoothing over the jagged edges of your soul. You felt yourself melting, the frustration of the fight with your boyfriend dissolving into a hazy, warm blur. It was the kind of praise you hadn't realized you were starving for. Under his gaze, you didn't feel like a mess; you felt precious. Like something rare that needed to be handled with care.
The air between you has changed into something that almost feels intimate.
You stared up at him, mesmerized by the way the moonlight caught the warmth in his eyes. You noticed the way his gaze lingered on your lips before drifting back to your eyes, and your heart began to race for a completely different reason.
The need to close the gap, to stop the thinking and justĀ feel, became overwhelming.
Before you could talk yourself out of it, you leaned in. It wasn't a tentative movement; it was a desperate, hungry surge. Your hand flew up, your fingers tangling in the hair at the nape of his neck and cupping the side of his face as you pressed your lips to his.
The kiss was passionate, fueled by the raw emotion of the night and the intoxicating sweetness of his words.
You expected him to be surprised, to pull back in shock, but Michael didn't hesitate for a single second. Instead, he let out a low, muffled sound deep in his throat and melted into you. His large hand slid from your cheek to wrap firmly around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest so there was no space left between you. His other hand moved to your chin, his fingers gripping you firmly to tilt your head back and deepen the contact.
He kissed you back with a sudden, fierce hunger that made your head spin. He tasted like warmth and comfort, and for a moment, the world outside the living room simply ceased to exist.
Finally, you pulled back just an inch, your breath coming in ragged, frantic gasps. Your face was flushed, your heart hammering against your ribs. The reality of what you'd just done crashed down on you, making you feel breathless and exposed.
"Oh god, Michael, I'm so sorry," you stammered, your eyes wide and frantic as you tried to find your footing. "That was the emotions, I justāI didn't mean toā"
"Shh," he commanded softly, a small, knowing smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
Before you could finish your clumsy apology, he leaned in again, his mouth catching yours and silencing your words with a kiss.
This kiss wasn't like the first one. It was deep, heavy, and felt like it was pulling the very air out of your lungs.
Michael didn't just kiss you; he claimed you. His mouth was firm and demanding, his tongue sweeping against yours in a way that made your toes curl and a soft, involuntary moan catch in your throat. Every time you tried to catch your breath, he seemed to find a way to steal it again.
His hand on your waist tightened, his fingers digging slightly into your skin through your clothes, pulling you so close that you could feel the frantic thud of his heart against your own.
You felt a little lightheaded, your senses narrowed down to just the taste of him, the scent of his skin, and the incredible, solid weight of his body against yours.
The sadness from earlier the loneliness, the frustration, the feeling of being "too much" it all felt miles away. In this moment, with his hands on you and his lips on yours, you felt exactly like the girl he had just described: someone worth wanting. Someone worth holding.
He pulled back just a fraction, his forehead resting against yours. Both of you were breathing hard, your chests heaving in unison. In the dim moonlight, his eyes looked dark, almost predatory, but the warmth behind them was still there.
"Don't apologize," he whispered, his voice sounding rougher than before, a low rasp that sent a shiver straight down your spine. "Never apologize for wating this."
His thumb traced your bottom lip, which was now swollen from his kiss. The way he looked at you like you were the only thing in the world that mattered made your stomach flip.
He didn't wait for you to respond. He moved his hand from your chin, his fingers sliding into your hair, gripping the strands just enough to tilt your head back again. He leaned down, but instead of going for your lips, he trailed a path of slow, searing kisses down the side of your neck.
A small gasp escaped you as his lips found that sensitive spot just below your ear. You instinctively arched your neck, giving him better access, your hands clutching at the fabric of his shirt as if you were afraid he might disappear if you let go.
"Michael..." you breathed, his name a soft plea you didn't even realize you were making.
"I got you," he murmured against your skin, his breath hot and teasing. "Just let go, angel. Just let go."
He moved back up, his lips grazing your jawline before finally finding your mouth again. This time, the kiss was slower, more languid, but no less intense.
It was a slow burn, a deep, intoxicating exploration that made you feel like you were melting into the couch, into him.
He pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes dark and heavy with a hunger that made your knees weak. He didn't look like the gentle, comforting man who had been holding you through your tears anymore. There was a new edge to him, a quiet strength that felt almost overwhelming.
"You spent so much time feeling like you're too much," he murmured, his voice dropping to a deep, gravelly rasp. He leaned in, his lips brushing against yours as he spoke. "Let me show you how a man properly loves on his girl."
The sheer confidence in his voice sent a jolt of electricity straight to your pussy. Before you could even process the words, his hands slid from your waist over your ass and down to your thighs. With one smooth, powerful motion, he hoisted you up.
You let out a tiny, startled squeak, your hands instinctively flying to his shoulders to steady yourself. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, pulling him even tighter against you. He was so solid, stronger than he looked, and the sudden change in height made your head spin in the best possible way.
He didn't say a word as he began to carry you, his stride steady and sure as he moved away from the living room and toward the grand staircase.
He wasn't rushing, though. He was taking his time. As he walked, he leaned down, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to your forehead, his lips soft and sweet. Then, he trailed his mouth down to your cheek in a way that made you shiver.
"Michael," you whispered, your voice quiet and breathless, your fingers curling into the hair at the nape of his neck.
"I got you, sweetheart" he promised, his voice a low vibration you could feel against your chest.
He shifted his grip, his hand sliding up to the back of your thigh to hold you securely against him, while his other hand stayed firmly on your waist.
As he reached the landing, he leaned in again, his lips finding the sensitive skin of your neck. He pressed a series of soft, warm kisses there, his breath hot against your skin, making you arch your back and bury your face in the crook of his neck as he made his way to his bedroom.
The bedroom door shut with a softĀ thud, leaving the rest of the house feeling miles away. The room was quiet, lit mostly by the moonlight coming through the window, making everything feel calm and private.
Michael didn't just drop you on the bed; he lowered you onto the mattress slowly, staying right there with you. As you settled into the blankets, you felt a little flustered, a shy smile tugging at your lips. You were definitely blushing, but you didn't try to hide it you actually found yourself leaning closer to him, wanting to be in his space.
Michael was smiling too. It wasn't some intense, brooding look; it was just a warm, genuine smile that made him look incredibly handsome.
He leaned down, giving you a quick, sweet kiss before pulling back just an inch. His eyes were roaming over your face, taking you in.
"You have no idea," he said, his voice low and casual, "How hard it's been to actually act normal around you."
You let out a little embarrassed laugh, looking down at the duvet for a second, but he reached out and gently nudged your chin so youād look at him again.
"Seriously," he continued, his gaze dropping to your shoulders before meeting your eyes again. "Every time you were here helping with the kids, watching you laugh or just seeing you move around the room... it was driving me crazy. I'd be trying to talk to someone else, but I'd just be thinking about you."
He shifted a bit closer, his hand sliding down to rest on your waist. His touch was warm and steady.
"And you're so damn beautiful," he added, his voice dropping a bit. He wasn't being dramatic; he was just telling you the truth. "I've been staring at you for weeks, just wondering when I'd finally get a chance to be this close to you."
A nervous, happy sort of flutter went through your stomach. You felt a little shy under all that attention, but it felt good. It feltĀ right.
He leaned in, kissing your cheek and then your temple, his voice a constant, low murmur of praise. "I've wanted this since the first day you walked in here," he admitted, his lips brushing against your ear. "Just to have you all to myself like this."
He didn't stop there. His hand, which had been resting on your waist, started to wander, his palm sliding up under the hem of your shirt. The contact of his warm skin against your stomach made you catch your breath, a small, shaky sound that he answered with a low, appreciative hum.
"You're so soft," he murmured, his thumb tracing the curve of your hip as he pulled your shirt up just a little further.
The shyness was still there, making you feel a little breathless, but as he leaned down to kiss the hollow of your throat, you found yourself reaching for him. Your hands slid under his shirt, your palms pressing against his back.
"Is this okay?" he asked, his voice a low, rough rasp. It wasn't a timid question; he could tell you wanted him, but he was still being the man he promised to be the one who took care of you.
He moved his hands to the waistband of your pants, his fingers grazing the skin of your hips. He paused for a second, his eyes locking onto yours, checking in.
"You're so beautiful," he whispered, his voice sounding a little more strained than before. "I've been thinking about this... about you... for so long."
He slid your clothes down, his movements slow and deliberate, making sure you were comfortable every step of the way. As you lay there, feeling the cool air hit your skin, a sudden wave of nerves hit you. You felt exposed, and as he shifted, moving his body down the bed, your heart started to hammer against your ribs.
You'd seen it in movies, sure, but the idea of him actually being down there... it felt a lot more intense in person.
"Michael?" you breathed, your voice a little shaky. You reached out, your fingers curling into the sheets. "Is... is it okay if we just... slow down a little?"
He stopped immediately, propping himself up on his elbows so he could look at you. He didn't look frustrated or impatient; he just looked incredibly focused on you.
"Hey," he said softly, his voice a warm, grounding weight. "What's going on in that head of yours?"
"It's just..." You bit your lip, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks. "I've never really... had a guy do that. You know? Like...eat me out. It's just a little intimidating."
A slow, incredibly sweet smile spread across his face. He reached up, tucking a stray lock of hair behind your ear, his touch lingering on your cheek.
"Intimidating?" he teased gently, though his eyes were dark with a hunger that was hard to miss. "Angel, there's nothing to be nervous about. It's just me. And trust me, there ain't nothin' in the world I want more right now than to taste you."
He leaned down, pressing a lingering, soft kiss to your stomach, just above the line of your panties. You let out a tiny, startled gasp, your hips giving a small, involuntary twitch. You were so wet, you were sure that a wet patch has formed on your panties already.
"Been dreamin' about how you taste since the first time you sat on my sofa," he murmured against your skin, his breath hot and teasing. "I wanna take my time with you. Gonna make sure you feel every single thing. Does that sound good?"
You looked down at him, seeing the genuine yearning in his expression. He genuinely wanted to taste your pussy so bad. The hesitation was still there, but it was being drowned out by the sheer heat of his gaze.
"Yeah," you whispered, a small, shy smile returning to your lips. "That sounds really good."
He didn't move away once you gave him the green light. Instead, he moved with a quiet, predatory grace, sliding down the length of your body until he was positioned between your thighs. The heat radiating from him was a physical weight, making your skin prickle with anticipation.
As he hooked his fingers into the elastic of your panties, his eyes never left yours for a second. He peeled the fabric down your legs with a slow, agonizing deliberation, leaving you completely bare and trembling under his gaze. The cool air of the room hit your damp skin, but you felt like you were burning from the inside out.
Then, he leaned in.
The first touch of his tongue wasn't tentative. It wasn't a light, polite graze. It was a heavy, soaking swipe that started at the very base of your mound and dragged all the way up to your clit.
A loud, unbidden moan tore from your throat, your back arching off the mattress as the sheer, wet friction sent a jolt of electricity straight to your core. You expected him to be careful, to be "gentle" in the way he always was, but the Michael looking up at you now was different. His eyes were hooded, dark, and glazed with a raw, unadulterated lust that made your stomach flip.
He didn't just want to taste you; he wanted to devour you.
He leaned back in, his face disappearing between your thighs. The sound of his mouth against your wet, swollen folds was loud and unapologetic, a heavy, rhythmicĀ slapĀ of skin on skin that made your toes curl into the sheets.
"Oh god, Michael..." you gasped, your head thrashing against the pillow.
"I've got you, pretty baby," he murmured, his voice vibrating against your most sensitive skin. He pulled back just for a second, his lips glistening, his eyes dark and blown out with pure, unadulterated lust. "You're so wet for me. You're so slick, angel. Just look at you... you're a beautiful, soaking mess."
He didn't wait for a response before he dived back in, his tongue working with a frantic, desperate hunger. He was lapping up every drop of your nectar, his tongue swirling deep into your slit, catching the heavy, syrupy flow of your arousal. He was being so thorough, so goddamn greedy, that you could feel the warmth of his breath mingling with the wetness of your own juices.
"That's it, sweet baby," he groaned, the sound muffled by your pussy. His thumb began to grind in heavy, punishing circles against your clit.
The sensation was too much. It was too much, and yet, you were begging for more, your fingers knotting into the bedsheets until your knuckles turned white. Every time his tongue swiped upward, catching the sensitive peak of your clit, a fresh wave of heat crashed over you, making your vision blur. He wasn't being the gentle, careful Michael you knew in the daylight; he was a man possessed, a man driven by a hunger that seemed bottomless.
"Michael... oh, god, Michael..." you sobbed, your hips jerking upward, trying to meet the relentless pressure of his tongue and the heavy, rhythmic grind of his thumb.
"That's it, angel... just like that," he murmured, his voice a dark, vibrating hum against your swollen folds. He pulled back just enough to let the cool air hit your dripping heat, only to dive back in with a sudden, forceful suction that made your entire body seize. "You're so loud for me, baby... so beautiful when you're losing control."
He was being so greedy, so unapologetically thorough, that you felt like you were drowning in the sensation of him. The wet, slapping sounds of his mouth against you were the only thing you could hear, drowning out the quiet hum of the house around you. He was lapping at you, tasting every drop of your arousal as if it were the most precious thing heād ever encountered, his breath hot and frantic against your inner thighs.
"Please... Michael, please, I'm gonnaā" Your voice broke, a high, keening whine escaping your throat as the tension in your lower belly tightened into a hard, pulsing knot.
"Gonna what, sweetheart? Gonna come for me?" He teased, his voice thick with lust, before he increased the pace. His tongue became a frantic, swirling blur against your clit, while his thumb applied a heavy, punishing pressure that sent jolts of pure electricity straight to your brain. "Let it go, baby. Give it all to me. Show me how much you want it..."
You couldn't hold back anymore. The world fractured. Your back arched violently off the mattress, your toes curling as the first wave of your orgasm crashed through you. It was a violent, beautiful explosion of pleasure, your internal muscles clamping down hard and pulsing around the empty space where his mouth was, desperate to hold onto the sensation.
"Oh!Ā Oh, god!" you screamed, your head thrashing from side to side as you came, the sheer intensity of it leaving you breathless and trembling.
Michael didn't pull away. He stayed right there, drinking you in, his tongue continuing to swirl in slow, soothing circles to catch the aftershocks, his hands gripping your thighs to hold you steady through the tremors. He let out a low, guttural groan of satisfaction, the sound vibrating deep in his chest as he watched you unravel beneath him.
"Mm, so sweet..." he whispered, his lips and chin glistening as he finally looked up at you, his eyes dark, blown out, and completely undone by the sight of your messy, beautiful climax. "You taste like heaven, baby. Just heaven."
The aftershocks were still rippling through you, leaving your skin hypersensitive and your breath coming in shallow, ragged hitches. Michael didn't move away immediately; instead, he lingered, his lips pressing soft, reverent kisses to the inside of your thighs, his hands roaming over the lush curves of your hips. He looked up at you, and the sheer worship in his eyes made your heart ache. He didn't just want you; he was in awe of you.
"Look at you," he breathed, his voice a low, reverent rasp. He reached out, his palms sliding up the soft, generous swell of your hips, his fingers sinking slightly into your skin. "So soft... so perfect. Every inch of you is a miracle, angel."
He moved up the bed, his body a heavy, warm weight as he hovered over you. He didn't rush. He took a moment to justĀ lookĀ at you, his gaze tracing the curve of your waist, the fullness of your breasts, and the way your thighs spilled beautifully against the sheets. To him, you weren't just a woman; you were a masterpiece of soft lines and delicious weight.
"You're so beautiful, pretty baby," he murmured, leaning down to press a slow, lingering kiss to the swell of your hip, his mouth trailing upward. "Could spend a lifetime just exploring you. Just worshiping you."
He captured one of your breasts in his hand, his thumb grazing the peak as he leaned in to take the swollen bud into his mouth. He sucked deeply, a low groan vibrating in his throat, while his other hand slid down to find where you were still slick and pulsing from your climax.
The friction of his hand against your wetness, paired with the heavy, insistent pull of his mouth on your breast, sent a new wave of heat crashing through you. You reached for him, your fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer, needing the friction, needing the weight of him to fill the emptiness.
"Michael... please," you whimpered, your hips tilting upward in a silent plea. "I need you. I need to feel you."
"I know, baby. I know," he whispered against your skin, his breath hot and frantic. He pulled back just enough to strip away the last of his own clothes, and when he pressed himself against you, the sheer, veiny heat of him made you gasp. He was massive, a heavy, pulsing weight that promised to stretch you to your absolute limit.
He guided himself to your entrance, the head of his cock smearing your own nectar across your opening. He paused there, his forehead resting against yours, his eyes searching yours with an intensity that felt like it was stripping your soul bare.
"Tell me you want it," he commanded softly, his voice thick with a desperate kind of hunger. "Tell me you want me to fill you up, sweetheart."
"Please," you choked out, your legs wrapping around his waist, pulling him flush against your soft curves. "Fuck, Michael, please... fill me up. All of you."
With a slow, deliberate thrust, he began to sink into you. He didn't slam in; he moved with a heavy, agonizing patience, letting your walls stretch and accommodate his girth. You felt every inch of him, the way he filled you so completely that it felt like he was touching your very core. You let out a long, broken moan, your head falling back as your body yielded to the delicious intrusion.
"Mm, so wet... so fucking perfect," he grunted, his muscles corded and tense as he bottomed out. He stayed there for a moment, buried deep, his chest heaving against yours, letting you adjust to the sheer fullness of him. He began to move, his thrusts slow and deep, pulling almost all the way out before driving back in with a heavy, rhythmic force that made the bed creak beneath you.
The sensation was overwhelming. It wasn't just the friction; it was the way his body interacted with yours the way his hard, lean frame contrasted against the soft, yielding curves of your hips and thighs. Every time he slammed home, his hips hitting yours with a wet, heavyĀ thwack, you felt the impact in your entire soul.
"You feel so good, baby," he groaned, his pace picking up, his thrusts becoming harder, more urgent. He reached down, his large hand splaying across your stomach before sliding lower to cup the underside of your ass, lifting you slightly to meet his every lunge. "I love how you feel around me... so warm, so wet... like you were made just for this."
He was relentless. He drove into you with a primal, driving rhythm, his hips snapping forward to ensure he hit your sweet spot with every single stroke. You were lost in it the sound of your skin slapping together, the scent of your shared arousal, and the overwhelming, heavy sensation of him plowing through you.
"Oh, god, Michaelā" you cried out, your hands roaming wildly over his back. You were being driven to the brink again, the friction of his cock against your internal walls sending sparks of white hot pleasure through your nervous system.
"That's it, baby... take it all," he urged, his voice a guttural growl near your ear. He was pushing you harder, his thrusts becoming frantic and shallow as he neared his own limit, his breath coming in harsh, jagged gasps. "Give it to me, angel... let me see you come again..."
The world finally stopped spinning, the frantic rhythm of his hips slowing into a heavy, pulsing ache that settled deep in your bones. As the peak of your climax began to recede, leaving you limp and trembling, Michael followed you over the edge. He let out a long, strangled groan, his body tensing violently as he buried himself as deep as he could possibly go, his entire frame shuddering with the force of his release.
He didn't pull out. Instead, he collapsed against you, his chest heaving in sync with yours, his sweat slicked skin clinging to yours in the most delicious, heavy way. He stayed buried deep inside you, the sensation of his hot, pulsing length filling you up as he slowly began to settle.
"Mm... oh, baby," he breathed, his voice little more than a broken whisper against the crook of your neck. He didn't move to separate; he just held you, his weight a comforting, grounding presence that made you feel safe and cherished in the wake of the storm.
He began to move, but it wasn't the frantic, hungry driving from before. It was slow, so agonizingly slow that every tiny, infinitesimal twitch of his cock inside you felt like a caress. He was just... existing within you, letting the sensation of being joined sink in. He nudged his hips in a tiny, rhythmic circle, a gentle friction that sent soft, warm ripples of pleasure through your sensitized walls.
"You're so warm," he murmured, his lips grazing your jawline as he spoke. He pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes soft and glazed with a profound, quiet adoration. "You feel so good, sweetheart. So perfect. I never want to leave you."
He reached down, his hand sliding under the small of your back to pull you even tighter against him, making sure there wasn't a single millimeter of space between your bodies. He began to pepper your face with tiny, soft kisses your forehead, your eyelids, the tip of your nose each one.
"Michael..." you sighed, your eyes fluttering shut as you drifted in the haze of afterglow. You felt so full, so cherished, as if his very essence was being poured into you.
"I got you, angel," he whispered, his hand moving from your back to cup your cheek, his thumb stroking your skin with a reverence that made your heart swell. "I got you. Just breathe. Just feel me."
He continued that slow, hypnotic movement, a gentle, pulsing slide that was more about connection than conquest. It was a worship of the quiet moments the way your breath hitched when he pressed a kiss to your collarbone, the way your hands instinctively curled into his hair, the way your bodies seemed to hum in a shared silence
In the quiet of the room, with nothing but the sound of your synchronized breathing, it felt like time had stopped.
The room was quiet, save for the soft, rhythmic sound of your breathing and the distant, muffled hum of the world outside that seemed a million miles away. Michael was still draped over you, his head resting in the hollow of your shoulder, his skin still warm and damp against yours. He was moving with a slow, almost hypnotic lazyness, his hips occasionally giving a tiny, affectionate nudge that kept you tethered to the sensation of him still being buried deep within you.
"You're so quiet, baby," he murmured, his voice a low, sleepy vibration against your skin. He lifted his head just enough to press a lingering kiss to your temple. "Thinkin' 'bout something?"
"Just... how much this feels like a dream," you whispered, your fingers tracing the line of his shoulder, feeling the lean strength of him. "it feels like if I blink too hard, the world is gonna come rushing back in and take all of this away."
Michael went still. The playful, sleepy haze in his eyes shifted, replaced by something much more intense, much more grounded. He shifted his weight, propping himself up on one elbow so he could look down at you. The soft light of the room caught the dark, serious depth of his gaze.
"It ain't a dream, angel," he said, his voice dropping an octave, becoming that steady, commanding weight you had come to rely on. He reached out, his thumb tracing the curve of your lower lip with a tenderness that made your breath hitch. "I don't do anything halfway. You know that. When I want something... when I wantĀ someone... it's everything."
He paused, his eyes searching yours, reading the flicker of hesitation that always lived in the back of your mind. He knew about him. He knew about the man you were supposed to be with, the one who was supposed to be your "stable" choice, but who left you feeling half empty and unappreciated.
"You're so good to everyone," Michael continued softly, his hand sliding down to cup your cheek, his touch heavy and warm. "You take care of other people, you take care of the kids... you're so selfless, angel. But who takes care ofĀ you?"
Your heart gave a painful little thud against your ribs. You knew where this was going.
"Michael..." you breathed, a warning and a plea all at once.
"He don't see you," Michael whispered, his gaze dropping to your lips before snapping back to your eyes, fierce and unwavering. "Not the way I see you. He doesn't know how to worship you. He doesn't know how to make you feel like the center of the whole universe."
He leaned down, pressing a slow, firm kiss to your forehead, his forehead resting against yours. "You don't gotta decide anything tonight. Not while we're right here. But just... just think about it, okay? Think about what it'd be like to be with someone who's actuallyĀ hungryĀ for you. Someone who's gonna give you everything you deserve."
He pulled back just a fraction, a small, knowing smile playing on his lips, a hint of the man who could command thousands, but was choosing to use that power just to hold you.
"Because in a way, you're mine, sweetheart," he murmured, his voice a promise as he lowered his head to kiss you again, deep and slow. "In every way that matters... you're already mine."
As he pulled you closer, his body settling back into yours, the weight of his words lingered in the air, more intoxicating than the sex had been. You closed your eyes, drifting off to the feeling of him inside you, wondering if the dream was finally starting to become your reality.
SYNOPSIS: Reader learns about Michael's little nickname for pretty women, and now he's in the doghouse. Can he make it up to her?
CONTENT: smut, 18+, fluff, NO MINORS, descriptive dirty talk, needy!Michael, soft-dom Michael, physical affection, dangerous era!Michael, era 1991, wife!reader
Author's Note: Hi babies š so this was inspired by a video I saw of Mike at the mall fishing lol. I had to write something warm and fuzzy about it, and I love a lil Marlon/Mikey moment. Enjoy š
The third time that you passed by Michael without letting him touch you, he knew something was off.
He was miserable.
It seemed like you were doing everything except speaking to him. As of right now, you were cooking dinner. Michael had followed you into the kitchen like a lost puppy. He had tried wrapping his arms around your waist while you stood at the stove. Kissing on you. Of course, you'd shrugged him off with a stern,
"Boy stop. I'm busy."
Sighing, Michael leaned back against the counter behind you, watching your every move.
"What did I do, baby?" he asked softly. "Why aren't you talking to me?"
The hurt in his voice almost made you give in. Almost. Until you remembered what started this whole mess.
Two days ago, it had been movie night. Michael had been upstairs on the phone with Frank while you rummaged through the cabinet beneath the television, searching for a VHS tape the two of you hadn't watched a hundred times already.
Your fingers landed on one labeled neatly in Michael's handwriting.
Michael with Fans ā October 1990.
Curious, you smiled to yourself and slid it into the VCR.
Seeing Michael's public persona had always fascinated you because it was so different from the man you knew behind closed doors. The world knew Michael Jackson. You knew Mike.
The screen flickered from blue static to grainy camcorder footage. Michael stood in the middle of a shopping mall, absolutely surrounded by screaming fans. He laughed, signed autographs, hugged little kids, kissed grandmothers on the cheek. It was sweet.
Then he looked toward the cameraman and saidā
"Let's go over here... there's some more good fish over here."
You blinked.
"What the hell...fish?"
On the television, Michael immediately made his way toward another group of beautiful women, reaching for one of their hands before posing for a picture. Your eyebrows slowly rose in disbelief.Ā
"...Hold up."
You rewound the tape.
Click.
"Let's go over here... there's some more good fish over here."
You stared at the television.
"...Fish?"
Another rewind. Clicked play.
"...There's some more good fish over here."
Your jaw slowly dropped.
"Hell naw."
When the tape finished, you ejected it so hard it nearly flew out of the VCR. Absolutely not. Marching straight to the phone, you dialed the first Jackson brother that came to mind. The one who knew everything there was to know about Michael. They were practically twins.
The phone rang twice.
"Marlon speaking."
"What does fish mean? And don't lie."
Silence trilled through the receiver.
"...Marlon?"
More silence and then Marlon sighed.
"...Mike done got himself in trouble, huh?"
"What does it mean, Marlon?" Another pause. You were tapping your foot impatiently, growing tired of waiting.
"...It's what we used to call pretty girls."
Your eye twitched. Suspicions confirmed.
"...Excuse me?"
"I meanā"
"So he was fishin'?"
"No!" Marlon barked, already laughing. "No, no, not like that!"
"Then why was he walkinā over there talking about, 'there's some more good fish over here?'"
Marlon had absolutely no defense. His brother was caught.
"...See... when you say it out loud like that..."
"It sound crazy, don't it?"
"...Lil bit."
You thanked your brother-in-law, hung up the phone, and walked upstairs without another word. No movie night. No cuddling. No goodnight kisses for Michael. Nothing.
Now, two days later...
Michael Jackson had absolutely no idea why his wife wouldn't speak to him.
Later that afternoon, Michael again sauntered into a room he knew you inhabited. He gazed at you quietly for a moment, large doe eyes watching you carefully and waiting patiently like a good boy to be acknowledged.Ā
Early afternoon glow began to settle over the room, highlighting your features with a soft golden warmth. You were seated at the kitchen table reading a new book. You sensed his presence. Like you always did. But you refused to raise your focus from your book.
You were a stubborn woman, he had to admit. Once you committed to something, youād burn the house down with yourself in it. So, he brushed his lips against the back of your neck and gave a soft āI love youā, laying down your favorite flowers on the table next to you.Ā
You hummed in approval,
āThank you, theyāre beautiful.ā The phrase came out simply. No kiss or smile attached. No reinforcement for Michael. Sulking, Michael silently retreated from the room.
He needed advice.
āShe wonāt talk to me for nothināā Michael was exasperated, rubbing his hands up and down his face frustratedly. He hated being ignored. Especially by you. You were quite literally his favorite person on the planet, other than his mother.Ā
He was so desperate that heād driven to his sisterās place, praying she had some insight.Ā
La Toya continued to organize her closet, bustling about as she listened to Michaelās woes.
āWomen donāt give you the silent treatment for this long, Mike. Somethinā happened.ā
āI havenāt done anything! Iām so lost.ā The poor man was needy for your attention, and he couldnāt get to the root of the problem.Ā
His sister was no help. So, he wandered to Marlonās next. Really just bored and looking for companionship.
āWhatās wrong Mike, you in the dog house?ā Marlon pulled his brother in for a hug, patting him on the back gingerly. Michael rarely stopped by unannounced. Usually when he did, something had been troubling him.Ā
Michael sulked over to the couch, plopping down with a sigh.
āI donāt even know WHYā
Unbeknownst to Michael, immediately his brother became fidgety and nervous.Ā Uh oh.
āShe wonāt even let me touch her.ā Michael whimpered, dropping his face into his hands.
Marlon scratched the back of his neck and looked away, eyes growing wide. He remembered his last call with you. Very well.
āSooooā¦ hypotheticallyā¦ if a man got caught calling women fish by his womanā¦ā
Immediately Michaelās head snapped toward Marlon.Ā
āWhat you mean?ā Michaelās eye contact never left his brothers, burning a hole in the side of his profile as Marlon feigned distraction and gazed in the opposite direction.
āIām just saying. Hypothetically.ā
Slowly, Michaelās eyes widened. He didnāt. He wouldnāt.
āShe talked to you? And you didnāt tell me?ā Under the pressure Marlon cracked. He immediately held his hands up in surrender as his brother shoved him.
āI aināt say nothinā!āĀ
āYou told her!ā
āI didnāt tell her!ā Marlon exclaimed, now dissolving into a fit of giggles.
Michael stood up, officially agitated.Ā
āYou supposed to be my brother, and youāre telling my girl our secrets. Come on manā Michael rolled his eyes, of course this was Marlonās fault. Marlon continued to explain himself through broken laughs.Ā
āIām her friend too, Mike!ā
āIām leaving.ā Michael grumbled.
āCāmon Mike, just apologize.ā Marlon said, laughter dying down. āYouĀ didĀ call them fish.ā
āSo did you, but did I tell Carol!āĀ
āHey, this aināt about me!āĀ
āBye Marlonā Michael grumbled, finally making his way toward the door. His brotherās giggles followed him out the front door, further agitating him.
When Michael finally arrived back home, he closed the front door behind him silently. His head dropped against the door behind him as he sighed heavily. He was in trouble.Ā
He found you in the kitchen, he hadn't bothered to call out to you. He had grown used to your sweet voice not answering him when he was looking for you.
But when he found you, he felt a very familiar heat building in the pit of his stomach. There you were, standing at the kitchen sink and absentmindedly humming a tune. Michaelās eyes trailed up your figure, admiring the way the sundress you wore perfectly hugged your body, framing your hips and cutting just above your ankles to expose your pretty anklets. Your ass raised in the hair as you leaned over to grab more dish soap.
The kitchen smelled like lemon dish soap and the faint trace of the smothered greens youād made earlier, the radio in the living room still playing Luther Vandross low and slow like it knew what was coming. You stood at the sink in that soft little yellow dressāthe one that always made Michaelās eyes go heavyāscrubbing the last plate, warm water up to your wrists, hips swaying just a little to the music without even thinking about it.
You didnāt hear him at first. But you felt him. That solid heat sliding up behind you, chest to your back, the familiar weight of his arms wrapping around your waist like heād been starving for the shape of you all day. His nose brushed the side of your neck, breath already shaky.Ā
This time, you didnāt pull away.
āBeen watchinā you all day, babyā he muttered, voice low and rough from hours of holding back. āAll eveninā. Makinā the bed, foldinā clothes, standinā here doinā these damn dishes like you aināt the finest thing I ever seen. Got me hard just lookinā at you, girl.ā
You felt it thenāthick and insistent, pressing against the curve of your ass through his loose black slacks. He rolled his hips once, slow and deliberate, letting you feel every inch of him already straining, already leaking. The grind was filthy, unhurried, like he had all night to ruin you right here against the sink.
āMikeā¦ā you whispered, fingers still curled around a wet plate. He didnāt answer with words. Just another deep grind, cock sliding heavy between your cheeks. One big hand slid down to fist the hem of your dress and yanked it up over the swell of your ass in one smooth motion. The cool air kissed your skin for half a second before his palm was there, squeezing, spreading you open like he owned it.
āI missed you all day, babyā¦ā
It was muttered on a sharp exhale as he bent you forward over the edge of the sink, your chest pressing into the counter, water splashing over your forearms. He made quick work of your panties, dragging them down to your ankles with one impatient tug. Two fingers pressed against your lips, tapping gently.
āOpen,ā he breathed. You obeyed immediately.
He slid them in, slow, letting you suck them wet and warm while he worked his zipper down with his free hand. You could hear the low, filthy sound of him pulling his cock freeāthick, heavy, the head already shiny with pre-cum from hours of watching you move around the house like you didnāt know exactly what you were doing to him.
āYouāre so pretty like this,ā he groaned against your ear, pulling his fingers from your mouth with a wet pop. āAll soft and domestic. Got me thinkinā about bendinā you over every surface in this house.ā
Those same fingers, still slick from your tongue, slid straight between your thighs and pushed deep into your cunt without warning. You squeaked, the stretch sudden and perfect, back arching as he curled them immediately, finding that spot like he had a map to get to it.
āIf only they knew,ā he whispered, voice dark and sweet at the same time. āHow this smart, pretty girl turns into such a needy little thing the second I get my hands on her. How bad you love letting me play your pretty little body like an instrument. Am I right, mamas?ā
You made a choked, gaspy noise when he started fucking you with his fingersāfast, precise, obscene wet sounds filled the quiet kitchen. Your knees nearly buckled. He allowed saliva to slowly drip from his lips down onto his aching length, slicking himself up with a low groan that went straight to your core, and then the blunt head of his cock was nudging at your entrance.
He pushed in slow. So slow you felt every thick inch stretching you open, the burn and the fullness making your eyes flutter. When he bottomed out, hips flush to your ass, you both moaned, his deep and cracked, yours high and shaky.
āSay thank you, baby,ā he whispered against your ear, one arm sliding around your waist, the other hand coming up to rest lightly at your throat. Not squeezing, just holding, owning.
You tried. The first sound that came out was nothing but a whimper.
His palm cracked across your ass, hard enough to make you jolt and clench around him.
āT-Thank you,ā you gasped, voice already cracking. āFuckāthank you, Michaelāā
āThatās my girl,ā he hummed, and then he started moving.
Not fast. Deep. Rolling his hips in those slow, grinding circles that dragged the head of his cock over sweet spots only he could touch on every pass, the faint swell of him pressing against your lower belly from the inside. You could feel it every time he sank in to the hilt, relishing in the way he flattened his palm there.
āFeel that?ā he rasped, grinding deep, staying buried while his hips worked in tight, filthy rolls. āThatās me, baby. Stroking all those little spots only I can reach, ain't that right sweetheart?ā
Your fingers clawed at the edge of the sink. Your thighs started shaking as you leaned forward on your tip-toes. The wet, obscene sound of him fucking youāslow and heavy, mixed with the low music and the occasional drip of water from the faucet youād never turned off.
He felt you getting close, felt the way your walls fluttered and squeezed.
āThere it is,ā he cooed, voice going soft and dangerous. āCome on, mama. Let me feel it. Cum for me.ā
When it hit, it was hard.
Your eyes rolled back so far your vision blurred. A needy cry tore out of your throat as your pussy clenched and gushed around him, sticky arousal sliding down your thighs. His hand around your throat eased its hold but stayed there, steady and warm, keeping you upright as the pleasure kept rolling through you in thick, helpless waves. Your eyes stayed rolled back, walls squeezing and fluttering tight around his thick cock while he pressed soft kisses to your temple and along your jaw, nose nuzzling gently against your cheek until your body went slack and heavy in his arms.
Michael didnāt stop though. He just adjusted his pace into long, lazy, deep strokes, grinding in slow circles while you came, letting you ride it out while he kissed the side of your neck, your temple, nuzzling his nose against your cheek like he was trying to crawl inside your skin. Saliva dribbled down your chin as you tried to gather your thoughts to no avail.
Michael couldnāt tear his eyes away from you, eyebrows furrowing at how your pretty face contorted with pleasure through his torment.
āGood girl,ā he breathed, voice shaking. āSuch a good fuckinā girl for me. Look at youā¦ droolinā all over yourself. So pretty when you canāt even talk.ā
You were still twitching, still fluttering around him, when it started building again, deeper, harder, the hand at your throat tightening just enough to make your head spin in the best way.Ā
Your second orgasm crashed into you before you were ready, thighs shaking so bad you almost collapsed. He caught you, arm locking tight around your waist, hips never stopping.
āMichaelāfuckātoo s-sensitiveāoh my Godāā
āI know, baby,ā he groaned, voice breaking into something raw. āI know. But you can give me one more, canāt you? My good girl can take it.ā
He pulled out slow, the wet sound filthy, your essence combined with his pre-cum was dripping down your legs in messy strings. Before you could even catch your breath he was turning you, lifting you onto the counter like you weighed nothing, knocking a clean plate into the sink with a clatter.Ā
Your dress was bunched around your waist, panties still around one ankle, and he stepped between your spread thighs like he belonged there. He gently tugged the strapless dress below your breasts, cooing softly at how your nipples hardened when they touched the cool air.
You tried to hide your face, suddenly shy under the bright kitchen light, under the way he was looking at you hungrilyālike you were the only thing in the world that mattered.
āDonāt hide from me,ā he whispered, catching your chin, making you look at him. His eyes were glassy, lips swollen, voice already raspy. āWanna see those pretty eyes roll back again.ā
He pushed back inside in one smooth thrust, and you sobbed, overstimulated, stretched so wide around him it burned in the sweetest way. He stayed deep, grinding in those slow, devastating circles, one hand on your lower belly again so you could both feel the way he moved inside you.
He rolled his hips in slow, searching circles, the thick head of his cock prodding gently at your insides as he tried to find that little spot. The one that always made you fall apart. He adjusted the angle with each careful roll, hips moving with focused intent untilāoh, he found it. The second he did, your whole body jolted, a broken sound slipping from your lips, and he locked right there, grinding against it with every pass like he was trying to etch it into your memory.
Your third orgasm built slower, your whole body trembling, tears slipping down your cheeks from how good it was, how much it was. You couldnāt even form words anymoreājust incoherent little sounds, stuttering attempts at his name.
As he rolled his hips in those deep, filthy grinds, your voice came out small and shaky between gasps. āI love the sound of your voiceā¦ when you talk to me like that. God, Michael, it does something to meā¦ā
He continued to roll his hips slowly, eyes darkening with fresh heat, a slow, wicked little smile tugged at his swollen lips at your admission. Music to his hears after being ignored for two days.
āYeah?ā he murmured, voice dropping even lower, rougher, the way he knew drove you crazy. āThen be a good girlā¦ touch yourself for me and Iāll keep talking for you.ā The words landed softly, touching something hot and sensitive deep in your core.
He would say whatever you wanted him to, hell heād sing every word, if it meant youād finally speak to him. And you did. You chanted his name like a prayer.
Your hand slipped down between your bodies without hesitation, fingers finding your swollen clit while he stayed buried deep, grinding in those slow, perfect circles that made your toes curl. He didnāt stop talking, he kept that low, raspy praise pouring right into your ear like he promised.
āThatās it, mamaā¦ rub that pretty clit for me while Iām deep inside you. Fuck, you feel so good squeezinā me like that. My good girl. My perfect girl...Look at you, touchinā yourself just ācause I told you toā¦ so fuckinā pretty when you fall apart for me. I could stay right here all night, just grindinā in this sweet pussy, listeninā to every little sound you makeā¦ā
Your fingers moved faster, the combination of his voice and the thick drag of his cock against your g-spot pushing you right to the edge again. Your thighs shook around his hips, free hand clutching his shoulder like a lifeline.
Michaelās own control was slipping. His hips stuttering every few rolls, breath coming in broken little groans against your neck, but he kept talking, kept praising, voice cracking with how good it felt for him too.
āCome on, babyā¦ let me feel you. One more time, please? I got you. Always got you. Thatās my girlā¦ā When it hit, it wrecked you completely.
Your eyes rolled back hard, mouth falling open on a silent scream as your pussy fluttered helplessly, clenching down around him as you gushed again, soaking his cock, his thighs, the front of the counter. Michael grunted with approval. Your whole body shook like you were coming apart at the seams, fingers still working your clit through every pulse while he held you through it, whispering the whole time.
Michael followed you over with a low, guttural moanāhips stuttering and his cock jerking deep inside you as he came hard,Ā flooding your walls with rope after rope of warm cum. The excess leaked and smeared around him with every trembling thrust. His voice cracked on your name and his face was buried in your neck. Arms locked around you like he was afraid youād disappear.
He didnāt pull out. Just stayed buried to the hilt, rocking in these tiny, overstimulated grinds while both of you trembled through the aftershocks. His breath was hot and ragged against your skin. Yours was worse, little hiccuping gasps, tears still sliding down your cheeks, drool on your chin.
āShhh,ā he whispered eventually, voice hoarse, kissing your jaw, your temple, the corner of your mouth. āI got you, baby. Breathe for me. Thatās itā¦ my good girl. My everything.ā
His hands moved slow and careful, rubbing your lower back in those deep, soothing circles you loved, thumbs pressing into the sore muscles from being bent over. He nuzzled into your neck, breathing you in like he needed it to live.
āI love you,ā he murmured, over and over, like a prayer. āLove you so much it hurts sometimes. You donāt even know what you do to meā¦ how you make all the noise in my head go quiet.ā
You were boneless in his arms, still twitching around him, still full of him. He stayed inside you until the trembling eased, until your breathing slowed, until the only sounds left were the low music and the occasional drip from the faucet.
Then he finally pulled out, gentle, careful, watching with dark, tender eyes as his cum spilled out of you in thick, messy rivulets down your thighs and onto the counter. He felt his cock twitch at the sight, already ready to have you again.
He grabbed a clean dish towel, wet it with warm water, and cleaned you gently, murmuring soft apologies every time you whimpered from oversensitivity.
When he was done he lifted you off the counter like you were made of glass, guiding you into the living room with his arms wrapped around you, soft kisses pressed to the top of your head. He laid you down on the couch and stripped off what was left of your dress, pulled his own shirt over his head, and climbed behind you, pulling you back against his chest.
One big hand kept rubbing slow circles into your lower back while the other stroked your hair, your arm, anywhere he could reach.
āYou okay, mama?ā he whispered against your shoulder, voice soft and a little shy now that the storm had passed. āWas I too rough?ā
You shook your head, nuzzling back into him, still too fucked-out to speak properly.
He smiled against your skin, pressed a kiss behind your ear.
āGood. āCause I aināt nowhere near done lovinā on you tonight. Justā¦ let me hold you for a minute first. Let me take care of my girl.ā
And he did. For a long time.
A comfortable silence had settled over you both. Michael held your smaller hand in his, calloused fingers gently pressing into the muscles in your hand.
āSo you been talkinā to Marlon, huh?ā he mumbled sleepily, amused.
āNoā you said quickly. But Michael felt your body tense. You were never able to lie to him, and he loved it.
āYou knowā¦ youāre my favorite fish baby.ā
He erupted into laughter when you huffed and elbowed him. Unfortunately, you couldnāt help the giggles that slipped past your lips too at the joke.
āIām kidding baby, only joking. Donāt be mad with me anymore.ā His fingers continued to stroke your belly gently.
āYou had me out here thinkinā youāre shopping, and you out here fishing.ā
āBaby, never. I wasnāt. Iām yours. All of me.ā He murmured against your neck, lips lazily brushing the skin there.
You couldnāt help the cheesy grin that broke through.Ā
pairing ā mature!michael jackson x black fem!reader
rating ā explicit (18+)
word count ā around 6.2k (i think probably more)
summary ā what starts as hurt and neglect becomes a raw reminder of how deeply he needs you.
warnings ā smut, profanity, implied relationship neglect, slight angst, make up sex, oral (reader receiving), p in v, pet names ( baby, sweetheart, good girl, princess, angelface, babygirl, sweet thing), praise kink, soft dom!michael, sub!reader, reader is a bit bratty, emotional vulnerability, yearning + his vitiligo is briefly mentioned (LOTS OF I LOVE YOUāS!)
a/n ā whew im so obsessed with michael i just had to whip something up im down bad also feedback is appreciated thank you and pls drop ideas in my ask box my requests are open i def wanna write more of him :)
You were sprawled across the bed irritated. You had known his concert would run late this life came with waiting.
Your phone was in your hand as you scrolled with sharp, restless movements, the kind that said everything your silence didnāt.
You heard the keycard slide into the lock. The door opened. Closed. The soft pad of his expensive loafers tapped against the floor.
āBaby?ā came his voice, softer than the stage version of him you knew the world worshipped. Tired. Careful. Almost searching.
"I know I'm late. The concert ran over, and then there was the afterparty, and i couldn't get away.ā
You looked up from your phone. He was at the edge of the bed already, just standing there like he wasnāt sure if you were going to talk to him or ignore him.
āI donāt care about the afterparty, Michael,ā you said, meeting him at the edge of the bed.
He sighed, long and deep. "Don't do this. Not tonight. I've had a long day. The crowd was insane, and I gave everything I had on that stage, and all I could think about was getting back to you."
You looked up at him, letting him see the frustration in your eyes.
āIāve been in this suite for hours. I chose not to go to the show tonight. I watched you perform live from here, and then I justā¦ waited. Iāve reorganized the minibar, counted bathroom tiles, watched like three soap operas I donāt even understand.ā
He stood there in a all black tailored jacket, fitted shirt underneath slim trousers that clung to him so well.
He looked so good in black too good, honestly.
"I'm here now," he said softly.
"Are you?" You sat up, tossing your phone aside. "Because it feels like I'm dating a ghost. A very busy ghost who forgets I existā
His jaw tightened, a flicker of frustration in his face before it softened. āYou know thatās not true. I didnāt mean to make you feel like I wasnāt here.ā
āThen why does it feel like that every time?ā Your voice came out quieter now, less angry and more tired. āI know you donāt mean it, Michaelā¦ but Iām still the one sitting here feeling it.ā
His eyes met yours again, softer now. āIt gets chaotic out there and I come off stage and itās justā¦ people pulling me in every direction. Interviews, crew, everyone needing something from me.ā He shook his head slightly. āAnd then I get back here and I realize I didnāt even check in with you properly.ā
He ran a hand over his face, exhaling slowly. āIām not trying to make you feel like that.ā A pause. āI swear Iām not.ā
"Then prove it." You said smirking.
He took a step closer then another, not breaking eye contact.
"You want me to prove it?" His voice dropped, losing that soft edge and gaining something darker. "Is that what this is about?."
That was exactly what you wanted. You were angry with him, but underneath it all, the need was there.
It had been a while since you two had sex his busy schedule had kept him away from you.
āWell-ā
"Don't." He held up a hand, and your mouth snapped shut. "Don't lie to me sweetheart . I know you. I know that look in your eyes. That challenge. Like you're daring me to do something about it."
You met his gaze, refusing to back down. "Well maybe i do want you to do something about it."
He was standing too close. Looking too good. Smelling like that familiar cologne that made your focus slip.
āMm.ā
āTalk to me. Tell me what you need right now.ā
A small breath left you. āYou,ā you said quietly. āI need you. Right now.ā
A long pause and then, slowly, he reached up and unbuttoned his jacket.
He shrugged it off his shoulders and let it fall to the floor without looking at it.
Then he tugged his shirt over his head.
You couldn't help but let your eyes trail over his lean torso, the smooth skin, the subtle definition of muscles built by years of dancing.
He took your face in his hands, his thumbs tracing your cheekbones.
"Baby," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "Look at me please."
You did. Oh, you always did. Those eyes of his pulled you in like gravity.
"I know I'm gone too much. I know it's hard. Harder than you thought it would be when you signed up for this." His thumb brushed your lower lip. "But I need you to understand something. When I'm out there, in those lights... a part of me is always here. With you. You're the only real thing in my life, do you understand?"
"Yes but why do I feel so invisible?" The words came out cracked, vulnerable.
"Because I'm an idiot." He smiled his smile was so pretty. "Because I get so caught up in trying to be perfect for everyone else that I forget to be perfect for the one person who actually matters."
He leaned in and kissed you your hands came up to grip his shoulders, as the kiss deepened instantly, turning messy and heated. His mouth moving against yours with desperation.
āFuckā¦ā he muttered when he finally pulled back for air, eyes dropping to your lips he was addicted to your lips.
āYour mouth is so sweet.ā
He kissed you again his tongue sliding against yours, slower this time, savoring it, and the soft sound that escaped your throat only seemed to make him melt further into you. One of his hands tightened at your waist while the other moved up your neck, holding you close like he couldnāt get enough.
āIām gonna take care of you,ā he whispered against your mouth.
āHow?ā you asked softly, tilting your head just enough to look up at him through your lashes like you didnāt already know exactly what that tone in his voice meant.
His fingers slid slowly along your waist beneath the thin fabric of your nightgown. "Iām about to show you."
He undressed you slowly each piece like he was unwrapping a gift he'd been waiting years to open. When you were bare beneath him, your skin prickling in the cool hotel air, he just looked at you. His gaze traveled over every curve, every dip, every shadow.
"God, you're beautiful," he breathed. "Do you know that? Do you know how many nights I've thought about this? About you? When I'm out there, dancing, singing, giving myself to thousands of people... all I can think about is coming back here and being inside you."
He pressed you back against the pillows, his body covering yours. He kissed down your neck, your collarbone, the swell of your breasts. His tongue circled your nipple, and you arched into him, your fingers tangling in his hair.
"You like that?" he murmured against your skin.
"You know I do."
"I want to hear you say it."
His mouth moved lower, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down your stomach, your hips. Your breath hitched as he headed further down your body.
"Baby?"
"Hmm?" He looked up at you, his lips inches from where you wanted him most. His nose traced along your inner thigh, and you felt his breath hot against your core. "Something you want to say?"
"Stop teasing."
He laughed, low and dark. "Always demanding." His hands pressed your thighs apart, spreading you open to his gaze you were so wet.
"But I know how to shut you up, don't I?"
He lowered his head.
The first touch of his tongue against your clit was electric. You gasped, your hips bucking, but his big hands held you in place. He licked you slowly like he was savoring you. Like you were a delicacy he'd been denied for too long.
"Oh, fuck..."
The words slipped out before you could stop them.
Your fingers grabbed the sheets your thoughts scattered as heat blurred everything you were trying to stay mad about.
He hummed against you, the vibration alone sending a ripple straight through your whole body.
His tongue circled your clit dipping lower against your entrance. He fucked you with his tongue, and you clutched the sheets even tighter, your mind going blank.
āThatās it,ā he said, pulling back just enough to speak. āThere she is.ā
āCouldnāt wait to get back here and put my mouth on you."
"Oh, please"
āPlease, what?ā he asked, tilting his head slightly.
āPlease donāt stop,ā you said, barely above a whisper.
He didn't his tongue worked you with skill that made your toes curl and your eyes roll. He found every sensitive spot, every place that made you gasp and moan. His fingers joined the party, sliding inside you, curling in that perfect come here motion that hit your g-spot dead on.
"You're so wet for me," he said, his voice muffled against your flesh. "So perfect. All mine. I can just taste how much you need me."
"Yes, yes, all yours-"
"Who do you belong to?" He looked up at you, his chin glistening, his eyes dark with hunger.
"You. Only you, Michael. I promise."
"That's right." He went back to work, his tongue lapping at your clit while his fingers pumped inside you.
The pressure was building, coiling in your belly like a spring being wound tighter and tighter. Your hips moved against his face, chasing the pleasure, and he let you. He let you ride his mouth, his tongue, his fingers.
"Come for me sweet girl," he coaxed. "Please, baby, wanna taste it." He begged.
That was all it took. The wave crashed over you, and you screamed his name, your body convulsing as pleasure ripped through you. He didn't stop, lapping up every drop, drawing out your orgasm until you were a trembling, gasping mess. He groaned against you as you came, like he was drinking in your pleasure, needing it as much as you needed to give it.
He crawled up your body, kissing your stomach, your breasts, your neck, until he was hovering above you. You could taste yourself on his lips when he kissed you.
"See?" he whispered. āThat's what you've been missing. I'm going to remind you, over and over, just how much you mean to me.ā
He reached down, and you heard the sexy rustle of his belt, the zip of his pants.
"I've been thinking about being inside you all night. Every dance move. Every moment I was on that stage, I was imagining this."
He kicked his pants off, and you felt his cock, hard and thick, pressing against your thigh.
"And now I'm going to fuck you until there's nothing in your head but me."
"Promises, promises." You teased.
He laughed, but there was no humor in it. Just a raw, predatory intent. "Still smart-mouthing? Don't worry. I know exactly how to fix that."
He lined himself up at your entrance, the tip pressing against you, but he didnāt move. He just held there, teasing you with what was coming next.
"Keep your eyes on me."
You did.
"I love you," he said. "I know I don't say it enough. I know I don't show it enough. But I love you. And I'm going to spend the rest of this night proving it. I need you to understand that every time I'm out there you're all I can think about."
He pushed in slowly inch by inch. You felt yourself stretching around him, accommodating to his size. He filled you completely, deeper than you thought possible, and when he was fully sheathed inside you, he paused.
His gaze dropped to where your bodies were joined a low breath leaving him.
āOh, what a sightā¦ā he said his hands tightening against your waist.
āNothing between us. I need this. I need you.ā
"Oh fuck..it feels so good."
"Tell me you love me."
"I love you."
"Again."
"I love you, Michael. I love you."
He began to move. Slow, deep strokes that hit places you didn't know existed. His hips rolled against yours, and the sound of skin slapping skin filled the room. He wasn't fucking you fast or hard. Not yet. He was making love to you, taking his time, worshipping you with every thrust.
"You feel so good," he breathed against your ear. "Taking me so well. So perfect. This pussy was made for me, wasn't it? Tell me it's mine."
"All mine. Come on say it."
"Yes, yes, it's yours-"
"It's all yours. Every part of me."
He kissed you, deep and demanding, his tongue fucking your mouth in time with his cock fucking your cunt. His hand found your clit, rubbing in circles, and you felt that coil tightening again.
"Already?" He smiled against your lips. "You're so sensitive tonight. Or did you miss me that much?"
"Shut up and fuck me."
"There she is." He laughed, but it turned into a groan as he picked up the pace. "There's my bratty girl. Always gotta have the last word, don't you?"
"Make me shut up then if you donāt like it.ā
His eyes flashed. He pulled out, and before you could protest, he grabbed your legs and pushed them up, hooking your ankles over his shoulders. The position opened you up completely, and when he slammed back into you, he went deeper than ever before.
āI.. youāre so deep.ā you mumbled not even able to finished what you were going to say fully.
"That's what I thought." He braced his hands on either side of your head, caging you in with his body. His face was inches from yours, his breath hot on your lips. "You wanted my attention? You've got it. All of it every drop i'm right here, baby. I'm not going anywhere.
The new angle was hitting that spot inside you that made you see stars. Your fingers clawed at his back, your moans turning into incoherent babbles. His skin was slick with sweat, the vitiligo patterns on his back glistened under the light.
āYou drive me insane,ā he grunted.
āBeing so good for me now, after how angry you were minutes ago.ā
āI was-I am-ā
"I know." He leaned down, his forehead pressing against yours, his hips never stopping their relentless rhythm. "And I deserve it. I deserve every bit of your anger. But right now, I just want to make you feel good i need to feel your body come apart around me."
"Michael..." you babbled that was all you could say.
"Give in to me. I've got you. I'm not going anywhere. I love you so much it scares me sometimes."
He kissed you, sloppy and desperate, his tongue sliding against yours. His hand found yours, interlocking your fingers, pressing your palm into the mattress beside your head. He held your hand tight, like he was afraid you might disappear.
"I need you," he whispered against your lips. "I need you so bad sweet thing. You don't even know. When I'm out there, when the lights are blinding me and the crowd is screaming, I close my eyes and I see your face. That's what gets me through. That's what keeps me going."
His thrusts grew more urgent, even more desperate. "I can't do this without you. I don't want to do this without you. You're everything to me."
His other hand slid between your bodies, fingers finding your clit again. He rubbed you in frantic circles, matching the pace of his hips.
"Come for me," he commanded, but his voice was raw, pleading. "Please, baby."
Your orgasm ripped through you, so intense that you saw white. You screamed his name, your body convulsing, your inner walls clenching around him like a fist. He kept his forehead pressed to yours, his eyes locked on yours, watching you fall apart.
"That's it," he breathed. "That's my princess. I love you. I love you so much."
He didn't stop though. He kept fucking you through it, riding out every wave, every pulse. And then you felt him stiffen, heard his guttural groan as he spilled inside you, hot and thick, filling you up completely. His body shuddered above you, his grip on your hand tightening almost painfully as he rode out his orgasm.
"I love you," he gasped, the words falling from his lips like a prayer. "I love you, I love you, I love you." He didnāt care how many times he had to say it.
He collapsed on top of you his cock twitching inside you as he rode out the last of his orgasm. For a long moment, neither of you moved.
Finally, he shifted, pulling out slowly. But he didn't move away. He stayed close, his body still covering yours, his face buried in your neck.
"I'm sorry," he whispered against your skin. "I'm sorry I make you feel like you don't matter. I'm sorry I'm always gone. I'm sorry I'm not here when you need me."
āMichael, you-ā your voice caught, breath uneven. āIām sorryā¦ I shouldāve just-ā
You looked away for half a second, guilt finally breaking through the frustration youād been holding onto all night.
"No, let me say this." He lifted his head, and his eyes were wet. "I know I'm not easy to love. I know I'm complicated. I know I have all these walls and all these fears. But you... you break through all of them. You make me feel like I can be normal. Like I can just be a man in love with a woman."
āI know youāre tired,ā you whispered. āI know youāve been working nonstop and I justā¦ I miss you so much sometimes it makes me angry.ā
āBabygirlā¦ā he breathed, forehead resting against yours. āYou never have to apologize for wanting me.ā
"Angelface." You said reaching up, cupping his face in your hands. "I'm not going anywhere. I love you. All of you. Every part of you."
"You mean that?"
"I mean it."
He kissed you, soft and sweet this time. Gentle. A promise.
"Let me show you again," he whispered.
"Ride me," he breathed. "I want to watch you.ā
He shifted, rolling onto his back and pulling you with him until you were straddling his hips. His hands found your waist, guiding you as you sank down onto him, taking him deep inside you.
You moved on top of him, finding your rhythm. His hands slid up your thighs, your hips, your stomach, finally cupping your breasts. His thumbs circled your nipples, and you moaned, throwing your head back.
"You're so beautiful," he said, his voice full of awe. "How did I get so lucky? How did I find someone like you?"
āYouāre so sweetā you muttered softly, almost shy now as if you werenāt currently riding him.
"I mean it." His hips bucked up into you, meeting your movements. "I don't deserve you. But I'm too selfish to let you go."
āYouāre not selfish,ā you murmured weakly, the words breaking apart as moans slipped from the both of you.
"I am. When it comes to you.ā
He sat up, wrapping his arms around you, pulling you close. The position changed the angle, and you gasped as he hit that spot again. He held you tight, his face buried in your neck, his breath hot against your skin.
"I need you so much it hurts.ā
"Tell me you're mine again."
"I'm yours. All yours Michael."
He kissed your neck, your collarbone, your shoulder. His hands gripped your hips, guiding your movements, setting the pace.
"Come for me again," he begged. "Please.ā
You were close. So close. The pressure was building, coiling tight in your belly. He reached between your bodies, his fingers finding your clit, rubbing in tight circles.
"That's it," he coaxed. "I've got you. I'll always have you."
You came with a cry, your body shuddering against his. He held you through it, his arms wrapped tight around you, his lips pressed to your skin.
He came too, his body tensing beneath you, his groan muffled against your neck. You felt him spill inside you again the sensation sent another wave of pleasure through your oversensitive body.
You stayed like that for a long moment, tangled together, breathing together. Finally, he pulled back, looking at you with those, beautiful eyes.
"You tired yet," he said.
"Never."
"Good."
He kissed the tip of your nose. "I'm going to spend the whole night showing you how much I love you. Every hour. Every minute.ā
When you woke up the suite was quiet sunlight spilled through the curtains in soft streaks, warming the sheets tangled around your legs.
At some point during the night, you mustāve drifted off completely. You didnāt even remember when.
āMorning,ā Michael murmured against your skin, his voice rough with sleep.
One of his arms tightened around your waist instinctively, pulling you a little closer against him beneath the sheets.
His hand slid down your side, over your hip, settling on your thigh.
"I love you," he said again, like he couldn't say it enough. Like he needed to fill every silence with those three words.
āAnd i love you more.ā
"I don't deserve you," he whispered.
"Stop saying that."
"It's true."
āThatās not true.ā
He kissed you softly. "I'm just not used to it. Not used to someone wanting me for me."
"I want you for you. Just you."
He held you close, his body pressed against yours, his heart beating against your chest.
And in that moment, you knew that everything was going to be okay.
Michael shut the office door a little harder than he meant to.
The laughter downstairs carried through the walls anyway. Someone had started another round of "Happy Birthday," though half the kids had already abandoned the song in favor of yelling over each other.
The music from downstairs dulled instantly. Michael didn't even look at you. Instead, he crossed his arms and stared out the window like he'd been personally wronged by the sun. You sighed. "Really?" still no answer. "Michael." Still nothing. "Oh, so we're doing the silent treatment now?"
"I have nothin' to say." You blinked. "Then why did you drag me in here?" His jaw flexed. "I didn't drag you."
"You literally grabbed my wrist."
"I guided you." You laughed once. "You're so unbelievable."
"So are you."
"What does that mean?" He finally turned. "What does it mean?" He gestured toward you. "You're wearing that."
Back when he was your husband. "It's a dress, Michael..get over it."
"It is not just a dress."
"It absolutely is." He scoffed. "You know exactly what dress that is."
"Oh god."
"You wore it on our anniversary in Paris. You wore it when we renewed our vows, goodness.. you wore it when i couldn't stop makin' love to you."
"That was eleven years ago." His face twisted. "You don't have to remind me miss." Your lips pressed together. "You don't get to tell me what I wear anymore."
"I know."
"But you're acting like you do."
"I know."
"So what's the problem?" He looked away. His voice came out quieter. "I don't like other men looking at you."
Your face slightly softens. "...Michael." He looks up. "I don't."
"You lost that privilege." You said with no empathy. "I know." He laughed bitterly, rubbing the back of his neck. "Believe me, I'm painfully aware." The tension softened.
You hated when his voice did that. That tiny crack. That little glimpse of the man you'd built fifteen years of your life with. "You looked..." He searched for the words. "Beautiful."
Your heart jumped. "I couldn't stop noticing." His gaze dipped "You weren't supposed to." You tease.
"And every man downstairs was looking at you." You folded your arms. "Were they?" He shot you a look. "Don't do that." A smile tugged at your lips. "Are you jealous?"
"No." He said fast. "look at me...michael." and he did. "I'm irritated." You roll your eyes. "That's jealousy."
"It's different."
"It really isn't." He groaned dramatically, dropping into your brother's desk chair. "I hate this."
"What?"
"Being divorced." Your smile faded. "I hate that I can't walk over and put my hand on your waist." He looked at the floor. "I hate that I have to pretend it doesn't bother me." Another beat of silence. Then, from the hallwayā "uncle applehead?"
Both your heads snapped toward the door.Your brother's oldest son. Cameron, muffled voice came through.
"Auntie (name)? Uncle bryan said we're taking a family picture." You and Michael exchanged a look.
He stood, straightening his jacket. "You still drive me crazy," he muttered.You smirked. "Oh, I know."
"...You wore that dress on purpose." you bite your lips. "I did." His eyes widened. "You are evil." You grinned all the way out the door. "And yet..." You glanced over your shoulder. "...you married me."
He couldn't even argue. He just shook his head with the tiniest, most lovesick smile. "Cameron..tell uncle bryan we're a little busy 'kay?"
he murmured, his hand brushing your cheek. "Let Daddy take care of his girl, hm?" His words made your heart skip and your thighs clench around him as he lined himself up with you.
The first slow push had you gasping. He was still stretching you inch by inch after all this years, your nails pressing into his back as he moved carefully.
"O-oh sooo good," he groaned, burying his face in your neck. "Still so tightāSo warm, baby.." Your breath hitched, eyes fluttering shut as your body adjusted to the feeling of him...so big, filling you so deeply you couldnāt think.
"Youāre doing so good, sweetheart," he whispered, kissing your shoulder as he bottomed out. He stayed still for a second, letting you breathe, his hand still holding your waist, his touch grounding. Then slowly, he began to move. Your moans were soft at first, breathy and needy, hands gripping onto his back like it was the only thing grounding you.
But then he started to go deeper. His hips snapped forward harder, more purposeful, and your sounds shifted, whimpers, then moans, broken and high-pitched.
He groaned low in your ear, his pace steady but rough, his large hands locked tight around your waist. "Y-you feel that, mama?" he rasped, eyes dropping down between your bodies.
You blinked through the pleasure, dazed and flushed, until you followed his gaze, and your breath hitched. There. A faint bump rising under the skin of your stomach every time he drove into you.
"Look at that," he muttered, voice full of awe. "You feel me here, huh, sweetheart?" Your lips parted, no words coming, just a shaky moan as he flattened his palm over the bulge. You trembled under him as he pressed down, and your body clenched tight around him.
"Shit," he hissed, "Youāre so Beautiful, mama. Can y'feel every inch of me?" You nodded frantically, tears almost pricking your eyes from how full you were, from how deep he was.
"C-canāt believe Iām this d-deep in you," he growled, thrusting up again, and again, letting his hand stay firm on your stomach while your fingers gripped the sheets. "Taking it so well fāme. My perfect girl." Michael's hotel room was filled with the sound of skin against skin, the wetness between you obscene and constant, your voice breaking into gasps as he kept pounding into you.
You moaned louder and louder, he brought his hand down between your legs, fingers finding your clit with ease.
He started circling, slow and firm, and it was like your entire body shutdown. "Cāmon, let go fāme," he murmured, lips grazing your temple. "My pretty lady." It only took a few more strokes of his fingers, perfectly timed with the deep thrusts of his hips, and your body tensed underneath him.
a loud moan broke from your throat as you came hard, everything pulsing, your walls fluttering around him, your thighs shaking uncontrollably.
He groaned at the feel of it, hips stuttering slightly, hands tightening around your waist to steady you through it. You barely had a moment to breathe before he pulled out and flipped you onto your stomach.
still trembling from your orgasm, you blinked up at him over your shoulder, dazed. He was already stroking himself at the sight of you like this. Face down, ass up, skin flushed and glistening. He leaned over and kissed the base of your spine, both hands caressing your ass as he lined himself back up. "Y-you can give me one more for Daddy, yeah?"
You were already nodding, dazed and needy. His large palms smoothed over the curve of your ass before he gave a sharp, affectionate squeeze.
You whimpered into the pillow when he slipped back inside, deeper now somehow, your body so sensitive. He bent forward over your back, mouth brushing your shoulder. "Youāre so good to me..mmh.." he praised, hips rolling into you harder.
"I miss you mama,.. i dont deserve you." Your fingers clawed at the pillows as your body rocked with his rhythm, a fresh wave of pleasure building fast, hotter, messier.
He slid a hand around your waist, fingertips finding your clit again, rubbing soft circles that made your legs tremble. "mmhhm!!āmikey!" you whimpered, body arching as his hand kept moving so deliciously. "Close, sweetheart?" murmured in your ear, his voice hoarse, strained. "shit, m-me tooā¦" you nodded frantically, barely able to form words. "Y's-so big.. i missed you daddyāMāso close!"
"Iām gonna make you a mommy," he whispered, voice gravelly in your ear. "Fill you up just rightāwatch you carry my baby, yeah?" Your whole body jolted at his words, the sound of them shooting straight to your core.
You nodded uncontrollably, thighs clenching, the pleasure unbearable now, building fast and out of control. "Daddyāmāgonnaāahh!" you moaned, voice breaking into a high-pitched moan as the wave finally hit you.
Your body shook violently, hips jerking, and then it happened, your climax crashing over you so hard, you couldnāt stop the gush that followed, soaking everything beneath you. "yesss atta girl, so good mama," he hissed, watching it happen under him.
The sight alone was enough. His thrusts faltered and his grip on your waist tightened almost bruisingly. "s-shitttt, Iām gonna cumāshitā" With a final, deep groan and whimper, he buried himself to the hilt and came inside you, cock pulsing as he spilled every last drop into your still twitching cunt.
He flipped you over, and shoved his mouth onto yours, kissing you hungrily, his hand cupping your jaw. You both lay there for a long moment, chests rising and falling in sync, the quiet only broken by your mingled breaths.
His forehead rested against yours, eyes half lidded and soft as he murmured, "I missed you so damn much baby..divorce sucks, Iāll buy you the pill in the morning, okay?" you smiled sleepily, brushing your fingers gently over his cheek. "I missed you more angel, its okay." you whispered, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to his lips.
A few minutes passed, and then Michael shifted, letting out a long exhale before resting his head against your bare chest, his arms lazily wrapping around your waist like he never wanted to let go. You threaded your fingers through his hair without thinking, letting your nails lightly scrape over his scalp in slow, soothing motions. He let out a quiet hum, almost like a purr, before speakingāvoice lower than before, like a secret he hadnāt meant to say aloud. "Would you like to get on tour with me again, love? i miss you so bad."
Summary: After months of focusing on the twins, you and Michael finally got a night to yourselves. Returning home after your first date night since becoming parents, the house was quiet, the babies were asleep, and for the first time in a long while, it was just the two of you again
As gentle as possible Michael tossed his car keys on the coffee table before pulling you into his lap and kissing up your chest before reaching your lips, his aggressive nature turned you on but also made you blush at the fact that you still could make him so horny after all the changes you went through with the babies
āMichael we canātā you whined as he kissed your teeth in between sentences
āAnd why not?ā Grabbing your hips as he began grinding into you, allowing you to feel his bulge underneath
āBecause what if we wake the kids up?ā
Michael gripped your hips tightly and began to rock you back and forth until you consciously started doing it yourself
āButāā kissing your knuckles āwe havenāt done it in weeks pumpkinā his hands now massaging your breasts as he slowly thrusted himself against you
āPlus I checked my calendar this morningāI know youāre ovulating right nowā
Leaning in you roamed your tongue against Michaelās bottom lip before feeling his fingers run through your hair āthat feels goodā you moaned
āSo let me make you feel even better. Hm? Thatās all I wanna do is make you happyā
Still straddling in Michaelās lap while the two of you twirled tongues against one another, his hands snuck up your back and undid the knot and caressed you gently but firm
Sitting up you slid out of the dress and exposed your breasts to Michael. Kissing his fingertips as his hands cupped them. Unable to fight the temptation you finally gave in
āJust a quickie okay?ā You whispered in his ear
āJust a quickieā he repeated as he caressed your butt and pulling off your dress in whole
You kneeled on your knees and unbuckled Michaelās pants and underwear pulling them to his ankles. Kissing up his legs slowly until you reached his shaft, causing him to shudder and faintly groan
āGet up here babyā he commanded
Following commands you stood to your feet and began making out with Michael while stroking his dick and moaning in each otherās mouth. He grabbed you by your throat causing a gasp to slip out āI said get up hereā
Sliding your knees over his hips and watching as Michael used his hand to aim his dick with your entrance and watched as you slowly made it disappear
He hissed and placed his hands on your hips feeling your pussy beginning to leak on his shaft. You began grinding back and forth with his dick inside of you moving at your command
āI missed this so muchā you whined
Your hands dug into Michaelās thighs and his hands were back in your hair to pull out your hair clip and watching it fall past your shoulders
āStill so beautifulā he mumbled under his breath before taking your nipples in his mouth and wrapping his arms around your waist
As you sped up your grinding you wrapped your arms around Michaelās neck for support and pressed your forehead into his āBaby itās been too longā you gasped āI-I feel like I could cum alreadyā
Completely resting on the sofa Michael grabbed your butt and forced you to bounce on his dick repeatedly āYouāve been holding out on me for weeks darlingā he panted āI know itās not just us anymore but Daddy needs you alsoā
Burying your face into his neck and biting causing him to moan and grip harder on your cheeks āMichael please make me cumā your breath trembling
Now both of your feet were planted into the couch and bouncing faster than before while holding onto the back of the couch for support. Michael watched your breasts jiggle up and down in his face trying desperately to catch your nipples with his mouth to suck on
āJust like thatā he hissed ājust like that baby youāre doing it so good right nowā
A sudden urgency built up starting in your legs and traveling up to your stomach, feeling a tight knot beginning to expand. Michael grabbed you your face and sloppily kissed your lips āYouāre about to cum on me right?ā
Unable to speak you nodded your head as your eyes rolled back āGood girlā he smiled āNow I need you to cum all over me like you always do okay? Claim me like Iām yoursā
āYes daddyā you moaned āanything you sayā
On your last bounce you began squirting on Michael and your legs started to give out so he wrapped his arms around you and began doing the manual labor. His head rested into the pillows and he swore under his breath and praised you for how good you felt around his dick. You buried your face in his neck as your orgasm held you captive
As you began crying Michael soothed you and ran his hands over his back of your head āshhh baby itās okayā placing a kiss on your forehead
āYou did so good for meā stroking your forehead ānow Iām gonna take over okay?ā
Switching positions Michael instructed you to grab onto the couch as he slid inside you from behind. Kissing up and down your back while his hands caressed your nipples, squeezing them until you moaned. Michael placed one leg on the sofa and entangled his fingers into your hair and pulled firmly as he began thrusting in you from behind
Your moans began spilling out effortlessly with each thrust that he fed you. The sound of his constant cursing followed by your fluids colliding with his created a loud damp sound in the atmosphere. Suddenly Michael leaned forward still thrusting himself forcefully inside of you and gripped tightly at your throat
āIf you wake my kids up with all your moaning Iām gonna fuck your throat till itās rawā
Apart of you wanted to moan out in agony just to receive a punishment. Before you could make up your mind Michael forced your head down into submission and smacked your butt a few times
āIām so close babyā he let out breathlessly āgod Iām so close to cumming inside of youā
Hot tears began spilling again as you attempted to throw yourself back āI want it Michaelāall of your seed pleaseā you begged
He licked his lips smirking āIs that what you want me sweetness?ā
āYes! Fill me up I want more babies from you pleaseā
Michael looked down at the view of your backside , seeing how your butt jiggled with every thrust and how with each stroke his dick came out wetter than before āI think you earned it, babyā
āI wanna have all your babiesā you mumbled
Allowing his head to drop back as he released his cum inside of you, feeling it shoot inside of you wildly. His chest caved in and his eyes rolled back as he started to slow down his pace
āMy godāafter all this time you still know how to drive me crazyā
The next morning you woke up in bed and immediately rose with adrenaline. Looking around you realized you were in your bedroom and dressed in one of your nightgowns. Turning over you looked at your clock to see it was 9:30am
āShit! I oversleptā
Dashing down the hall to check on the twins you seen Michael holding the both of them while sitting in the rocking chair and kissing their foreheads
āSay hi to mommyā he cooād
Moments like this made every sacrifice all worth it , suddenly you imagined your family of four turning into a family of six..then eight. Watching Michael be such a good father made you want to give him more
Kneeling off the doorframe you kissed Michaelās lips before grabbing one of the twins and cuddling them tight before placing them inside one of the cribs
You kissed Michael again before working your way up his and caressing his face āI think you deserve more babiesā then walking away leaving Michael dumbfounded but also cheesing from ear to ear. Immediately catching your drift he placed the baby back into the crib and chased after you to the bedroom
I just know for a damn fact Michael would always say āgood girlā or ādoes that feel goodā and im going insane about that
the craziest part about this is I KNOW heād say it from the most meaningful, genuine place. like his intention wouldnāt even be dirty talk it would be literal words of praise and reassurance and that shit makes my pussy twitch sorry
ā Ėāā® like when youāre so close that he can feel you swelling around him; your body is tense and your breath is shallow and he just knows youāre right at the edge.
āThatās it sweetheartā his voice is gentle as he fucks into you nice and slow. heās looking down, marveling at how your brows scrunch together and your lips part between moans.
You peer up, your needy eyes finding his in a fucked-out daze, making another soft praise rain from his lips, āSuch a good girl.ā
That one does it for you, his sweet words push you straight over the edge as you pulse around him, hard.
āThere she is.ā His admiration is whispered through a smile as his head falls to watch where your bodies intertwineā in awe of the way your pussy sucks him in deeper with every sensitive squeeze.
This is my first fic here and the idea just came to me. It's going to be angsty with a happy ending i swear! Just wish this could actually happen in real life.
After the 2005 trials, he was never the same.
Michael has never been one who shares much about his businesses and his work. For years, you've been telling him to stop being nice to everyone, and to stop working with certain executives who are clearly vultures that just wants a piece of his money.
He always tells you that he's handling it. But there's always the constant media circus, the tabloids, and the pressure to go on tour, that are putting more and more pressure on him. You feel helpless because he doesn't listen to you anymore.
The kids have also started to notice that their daddy is always distant, almost like his head is elsewhere at all times. And you've been trying. You tried hard to bring him back. To bring his spark and joy back, to prove to him that his fans still loves him, that you still love him. That he has his family to support him.
But now, three years after his trial was over, you've realised that he's broken beyond measure. You missed seeing his genuine smile, to see him run around the backyard with the children. But you love Michael too much to even thought of leaving him behind. Michael is and will always be the love of your life, so you refuse to give up on him.
With the tour approaching next year, you also noticed that Michael has been sleeping less and less every day. Many nights you would wake up to go to the bathroom, only to find his side of the bed empty.
You'd always find him in his studio, trying to record a new song, or practice his old dance moves. Sometimes you think he's struggling to reconnect with that part of himself. The legendary Michael Jackson, who owns the best-selling album of all time. You can see it in his eyes, how he looked at his younger self in the photos, as if he's looking at a ghost. How youthful and how naive he'd been.
A few months before the tour starts, you started to notice more and more doctors visited your home. "They're trying to help me sleep," Michael always said to you whenever you asked.
You keep on seeing more pills on his bedside table. Sleeping pills to help him sleep and relax. More often than not, you feel like you can't help your own husband to take away his pain and to help him sleep. What more can a wife do, when you've tried hard to show him how loved he is? At the end of the day, Michael is still a man who thinks he can handle things by himself. His perfectionist side telling him to tackle every problem by himself and to only show the perfect side to the world and to his family.
Until one night, you were lying next to him. Michael just came back from his rehearsal for This Is It tour, which is due to start in two weeks. As usual, he always gives you a quick cuddle and a kiss to your forehead before he drinks his sleeping pills. As you slowly drift to sleep, you were awoken by the sound of rustling next to you. Being a light sleeper yourself, you turned around, only to see Michael struggling to breathe and you saw his chest heaving.
"Michael?," you tried shaking his shoulder. You received no answer but a ragged breathing from him.
"Michael, talk to me love."
When you saw his body started jerking side to side, panic mode kicked in right away and you moved to straddle him and saw his eyes were dilated. His body is going into shock and he's not breathing anymore.
Panicked and shocked, you started pressing your hands and started CPR as quickly as possible.
"Michael, baby, breathe."
He's still not breathing and your mind started racing, trying not to think that you're losing your husband in your own home.
"Baby, please, please come back." you kept on pressing his chest, trying to kickstart his heartbeat, even when your own heart is racing so fast and your mind can't think clearly. All you can think about is to make him breathe again.
Tears started flooding your eyes as you started screaming for help, never stopping your movement on his chest. Hoping one of the maids can hear you.
"Mom?" you heard Prince's voice from outside the door.
"Prince, I need you to stay outside, and call 911, quick!" screaming, you told your oldest son to call an ambulance. You heard shuffling from outside the room and a loud panicked voice "On it, mom!"
It felt like hours have passed while you keep on doing CPR to Michael, and your hands are starting to feel numb.
"Don't leave me, love. I can't do this without you. Please, Michael, come back to me. Just come back." you sound almost resigned but still not giving up. Tears are now running wildly through your face and you can feel your nose is getting clogged from crying.
"Please baby, I need you. I love you Michael. Don't leave me."
Then, finally, a gasp.
Michael blinked and jerked. His body came back to life, his heart started beating wildly again and you can feel it on your palms. He coughed and coughed and tears are streaming down his eyes. His eyes are still dilated and unfocused, but his breathing is starting to become even. You can only stare at him in shock. Willing yourself to believe that he came back.
"Love?" you heard Michael rasped from beneath you.
"Michael? Oh Michael" you wrapped your arms around his shoulder and released all of your emotions on top of his pyjamas. "I thought I lost you," you cried and your body shook so much as you struggle to come to term with what just happened.
"You- You went into cardiac arrest and I had to do CPR, I thought it was too late.."
Michael didn't speak for a while, he was still trying to understand what you were saying. "I- I stopped breathing?" He asked with shaky voice.
You've never felt more relieved to hear his raspy voice and you can only sob on his chest. "For a few minutes, I thought you were gone, Michael. I don't know what I'd do if you leave me just like that."
Michael's arm slowly flung towards your heaving body and hugged your frame. "I'm sorry, sweetheart." He sniffles while trying to comfort you.
A moment later, paramedics finally barged in the door, leaving Prince at the door finally looking at his parents in an embrace, crying and rubbing each other's backs.
You let go of Michael and started explaining to paramedics what happened. And they started taking vitals of Michael and putting an oxygen mask to help him breathe more.
Prince came running to you and hugged you while the paramedics are doing their job with your husband.
"Mom, what happened? I was scared something happened to you or daddy, but I did what you told me to do" He smushed his face in the crook of your neck.
"Oh Prince." you hugged him back, grateful for having a son who can support you. You slowly pushed his body away and looked him in the eyes, "Your daddy suffered a cardiac arrest but he's all fine now sweetheart."
"Daddy's okay now right?" His eyes looking sideways, at his daddy's figure in bed, with all the tubes and machines attached to his body.
"I'm okay buddy," Michael called from next to them on the bed and motioned for Prince to come to him.
He immediately let go of your hand and came to Michael, as they shared a short hug. Prince trying to avoid hurting Michael even more.
After the paramedics have checked all vitals, taken Michael's blood test and ensured everything is okay, they told Michael to stop consuming his sleeping pills at such a high dose as those are the thing that triggered his cardiac arrest. They left the room after their work is done, and you tucked Prince back to his bed, telling him to rest and not too worry too much.
You came back to the room and saw Michael sitting on the sofa, his head is hung down, seemingly trying to catch up his mind to what just happened to him in the past 2 hours. He acknowledged you coming inside the room as he can hear the soft click sound of the door closing.
"I'm sorry baby." he started, "I'm sorry that this happened, and- and I'm sorry Prince had to be the one to help you in an emergency. I should never have let my family saw that." He said in his soft voice with a slight tremor.
You crossed the room and knelt before him, trying to catch his eyes. He refused to see you in the eyes. So you grabbed his cheeks in your hands and force him to look at you.
"Mikey, you scared the hell out of me today. And you're right, Prince should never have saw all that. But I want you to know that I'll always be here, and you need to think of your children before doing something stupid like taking more pills than what's recommended" You explained to him, trying to make him understand just how reckless he was for relying only on pills to sleep.
"I'll throw it all away. The pills. I'm done."
"Good."
"And I'll call management tomorrow and tell them to postpone the tour. They can fight me however they want but I want to spend time with my family for now."
"Good."
"I swear baby, believe me that I won't listen to them anymore. Today just reminded me just how short life is and I don't want to spend my life constantly thinking of pleasing others when I have you and the kids already."
In that moment, you saw it in his eyes. His old spark, his fire, his soul. Your soulmate has come back to life. You didn't need to think twice, you pushed up towards his lips and kissed him.
Michael returned the kiss right away, hugging you at the waist as he stroked his other hand on your back. The both of you stayed in that position for a while until you parted first and tried to catch a breath.
"I love you baby. Thank you for always staying by my side." He said.
"Always Michael, I love you too." you smiled at him softly while stroking his cheek lovingly.
With that, you stood up and pulled him up.
"Let's have a cup of tea downstairs and we can drive to the hospital to double check your vitals." You tried lightening up the mood while making sure everything is all fine with Michael.
"Okay" He smiled at you, realising how blessed he is to have you by his side all these years.
"A star can never die. It just turns into a smile and melts back into the cosmic music, the dance of life"
Destiny has a cruel way of making us come to reality, and leaving us without you is that hurtful reality. It pains me, but I know you're at peace now, the one that you deserved for so long, the one that was taken away from you since you were a child. We try to make your legacy a beautiful thing, even when others try to take it down; your memory lives in our minds and hearts. You make the sky sparkle, and now I celebrate you. I love you, applehead.
forever my angel. thank you for being such a pivotal part of my life and healing me in ways unimaginable, i hope in someway somehow you are seeing just how loved you truly are and that youāre legacy is forever honored. i love you michael and i pray that youāre finally at peaceš¤
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