I’m black so majority of the time my reader will be black as well.
Fandoms: Michael Jackson, JJK, MHA, Grey’s anatomy, COD, OHSHC
I wrote mostly smut, but I can get real sappy sometimes and pull out some fluff and angst.
Please keep negative comments to yourself on my page. Everything is made up and it’s FANFICTION. not deep enough to start arguments over. I promise you.
Please leave suggestions for anything you’d like to see me write I am open🫰🏽
𝓐𝓝: i got this idea while sitting in the car and writing it out, it ended up so much more different but anyways we ball
smut, sub otw!michael, fem reader
you and your boyfriend sat together on the couch, well actually you sat with your legs across his thighs leaning onto him.
watching To Kill a Mockingbird for the umpteenth time but you didn’t mind, as long as you could sit next to your lover while he smiled enjoying the movie—turning to you occasionally to point out a scene or line—you would smile and nod softly.
by the third time you rewatched the movie you’d end up spending the entire time just admiring him and, tonight was no different at all. your hand resting on the couch now ran up all the way to his short curly hair, gently allowing your nails scratch his scalp causing your boyfriend to turn his face to you
“mmmm” he hummed leaning into your touch, his hands resting on your thighs start moving gently massaging the plush skin. smiling dazedly at the tv
you kissed his lips softly “i love you” which earned you a sheepish smile “mm- i love you more”
“no me!” you left a quick kiss on his lips, “no me more~!” he giggled going in to kiss you back, attention now fully gone from the tv now onto his precious girl
you sat up, “noo i said it first so that means i win” you feigned annoyance, your free hand now moving up to turn his chin towards you. “mmm i don’t think it wor—“ you cut him off with a kiss, he softly groaned into your mouth.
it went from one soft kiss to multiple, barely able to stop yourself from kissing your boyfriends pretty lips. how could you seriously resist? so plump, soft and insanely sweet you just couldn’t stop. his hands on your thighs now squeezing and patting slightly at your legs indicating he need a little breath. begrudgingly you separated your lips, resting your forehead against his. hot puffs of air hitting his your face and gosh the way his eyes looked up at you made him look so small, like you could eat him alive and you did just so, diving back for another kiss. this time your legs shifted moving from laying over his thighs to straddling his legs.
your hand still in his hair grabbing his curls, your free hand once on his face now moving down his body to his chest—slowly feeling him up—you felt him shift in his seat slightly, if you weren’t paying attention you would’ve also missed the little shiver that ran up his spine. your hand traveled down over his stomach, muscles jumping under your touch. “you okay?” you spoke between kisses to which he answered with a nod, after getting your green light you moved down to his crotch feeling the obvious bulge raising from his jeans.
you parted from his lips, he was completely in a trance. panting, pupils blown wide and his eyes although dazed were impossibly focused on your lips—chasing them when you pulled away—“you hard baby?” he looked up, nodding “y-yeah a little” he bit his lip before speaking “i just get so excited kissing you”he said quietly, smiling bashfully. “aww~ nothing to be ashamed of, we just gotta fix that yeah?” you cooed, rubbing the side of his face slowly tearing your vision away from him down to his pants—undoing the button and pulling the zipper down—no matter how many times you did this you were always so surprised at how worked up he’d always get, and no matter how many times michael would do this he’d always be incredibly flustered having someone look at him down there.
you palmed him through his boxers slowly squeezing him “mmph-!” he hissed through his teeth “feels good?” you looked up to see his head laid back against the couch. “mmmhm- v-very good mama” he sighed his hands hugging your waist “yeah?” you cooed using your free hand to rub the side of his face to which he nodded. using your nails to graze up and down his clothed length earning a delicious whine from him “please c’mon don’t tease me”
“getting demanding huh?” you questioned but before he could reply he felt your teeth sinking into his neck earning a yelp from him “sorry! mmph” you smiled against his neck feeling the goosebumps speckle up his throat “good boy~ so good at listening yeah?” he tried to protest “w-what are you talking about” he laughed breathlessly you lifted your head from his neck, “what do you mean, hm?” your hand tugging the fabric of his boxers down. “i-im not a” ah! he cried out, your thumb teasing at his tip “i-im not a boy im- im a man-“ he whined ironically “oh yeah? a man?” spreading his pre around to use as a lubricant slowly picking up pace. you really wish you could believe his tone but the sounds he were making were beyond pathetic “ah! s-slow down m’not gonna last-“ he shifted. “mm you’re gonna have to beg to get me too~” you said in a sing-song voice. he closed his eyes shyly, gulping lightly “p-please?”
clicking your tongue,going faster “you can do better than that right?” twisting your wrist in a way you knew that definitely overstimulated him “p-please! mmgh ppllleasse~” he gasped “i-i’ll be good—m- y-your good boy!” the last bit he mumbled quite shyly. you smiled wickedly knowing you weren’t gonna stop, leaning back in to kiss him pushing your tongue into his mouth—twirling around his—he broke away from the kiss with raunchy moan, looking down you felt the white liquid ooze down your hand. your boyfriend was too cute not to tease <3
okay but overstimulating mikey, he’s already inexperienced so everything feels so overwhelming but now he’s came about four times now? and he’s crying actually tears and his soft voice has gotten impossibly higher and breathier. and he’s keeps begging us to stop but he’s getting wetter by the moment… ugh he’s so cute
✿ michael, who has been your boyfriend for a while, comes over to your house with a problem, and your very happy to help. 18+, soft smut, switch!michael, sub!michael, handjob (m), cum/spit play, j5!michael x fem!reader ( YALL TS OVERLY NASTY)
𝜗𝜚⋆₊˚ ; 1978
your eyes stared blankly at the sheet of paper in front of you. rereading the question over and over, you scrunched your eyebrows in confusion.
breaking your very-much focused train of thought, a loud noise rang through your home; ding dong.
you jumped up from your desk chair excitedly, already knowing exactly who it was. your feet trickled down the steps and before you knew it, you were already at the door.
once you finally twisted the knob and pulled, a handsome young man named michael stood right in front of you.
“hey sweet thing.” he grinned just before swiftly picking you up and spinning you around as he stepped into the house.
“hi michael.” you reply softly, bracing yourself for your landing. soon shutting the door behind you.
the two of you quickly made yourselves upstairs. “where are your mother and father?” michael questioned as he emptied his pockets on your nightstand, taking off his jacket right after.
“date night.. or whatever. i’m just stuck here doing college homework.” you groan in annoyance just before glancing at the papers stacked upon your desk.
michael had hummed in response, then sprawled out right on top of your comforter, making himself at home. you hadn’t even realized you’d been stuck in one spot the entire time; leant up against the door frame of your room, arms crossed in admiration.
“why so far? c’mere mama.” michael sighed, a hand dramatically reaching out for you as if you’d been cities away.
giggling as you make your way to your bed you take a seat. you were criss-cross apple sauce, and michael was laying directly on his back, palms supporting his head. his eyes stayed on yours.
“so, how’s your day been baby? what you been up to?” you question softly, just before your warm fingers, gently worked their way through the silky shape of his afro.
michael melted under your touch, eyes fluttering. “mm, been at rehearsals all day. i bout danced til’ i couldn’t dance no more!” he sighed.
your fingers glided away from his hair softly, now creeping onto his face. “aww is my baby tired?” you cooed, teasing him.
michael squeaked out a high pitched laugh just before covering his entire face with his hands in embarrassment.
“don’t you hide from me!” you squeal. you began to tickle him all over. your’s and michael’s laughter now filling the room.
michael had flipped over, squirming up under your touch. now you were tickling the back of his neck and down his back. in the midst of his beautiful laughter, you heard a groan of pain.
cautiously stopping, you questioned him. “michael, are you okay?”
“yes baby, m’fine.” he muttered, face now planted in the sheets. you weren’t convinced.
“michael…?” you spoke softly. your fingers gently trailing down his back to feel a firm knot of muscles. strictly tightened together.
michael softly groaned strain fully at the sensation. he stayed laying against your sheets and cotton blanket, the pain and embarrassment taking over him at once.
now you understood. he had a knot in his back, causing him some pain. “come here, honey. let me work it.”
gently you lift him up, watching his every movement. however, michael just avoided eye contact.
you slide your back up against your pillows and head board, legs spread. your fuzzy long pajama pants adding to his comfort.
michael shimmied quickly in between you. your legs were a lot shorter than his, so he reached down to caress your polished toes for stability.
you began to work his shoulders, and the back of his neck. receiving a groan of approval. slightly leaning forward, you kiss his temple. your hands moving slowly further down to his shoulder blades.
consistently changing the shape of your hands, laying them flat or balling them up. you continued to earn muffled sounds of satisfaction from michael. but you knew they wouldn’t last long.
leaning right beside his ear, you try to ease his mind. “i’m gonna work that spot now baby, just relax.”
michael just nods in silence, his body melting right into yours. your fingertips reach the knot. he let out a low gasp.
you bit your lip at such a familiar sound, but you were trying your best to tend to his needs right now.
you pushed your thumb right into the knot. working it like dough. michael’s hands quickly moved from your toes, reaching your ankles with a tight grip. “god, mama that hurts.”
“i know baby. almost done.” you say just below a whisper, focusing on the movement of your hands rather than the volume of your response.
about 10 minutes had passed by, and you finally let up. michael who was now relieved laid his head back against your shoulder.
playfully, he attempted to kiss your cheek even though he was in a difficult position, so really his lips had just been bumping your jaw unevenly. you couldn’t help but laugh.
with a grin michael sighed. “thank you baby. that really helped. your a pro.”
“of course, michael. maybe i should be a massage therapist.” you joke, referring to the exaggeration of his praise.
michael chuckled his way into a kiss. his fingers running through your curls, before guiding you down to his mouth.
in between kisses he mumbles to you. “your so pretty and helpful, m’baby.” he can feel your lips grin in response, taking the advantage to slide his tongue into your mouth.
you let out a soft moan into the kiss. your hand now cupping the side of his jaw as he laid a little below you. your hands rubbed down his chest.
michael’s fingers, found your chin deepening the kiss, as his lips worked his way down to your neck; cocking his head back.
unexpected, the sensation was gone. michael began to turn over, to be on top of you, just before you stopped him.
“no baby, i wanna try a different massage now.” you hum softly into his ear. michael bit his lips, letting out a low chuckle.
“time to see how pro you really are, huh?” he jokes. you giggle against his jaw. “mhm.”, just before your cold fingertips slid up his white t-shirt.
the two of you worked together to pull it over his head. michael finally shrugged it off, quickly chasing back up the addictive taste of your lips.
soft groans and sounds were mixed into the sloppy kiss. it was nasty, but god, it was good.
your other hand found its way onto his neck, not gripping but placed there firmly, directing his head further back. allowing you to attack the skin upon his neck.
you indulge viciously, leaving hickeys and even licking long stripes of saliva across the sensitive area. michael released some pitiful noises, but it only made you wetter.
he grasped your other hand that had been pressed onto his abs, and moved it to his aching bulge.
feeling the tent in your hands, you reverted from the kissing, pulling back looking at him in the eyes. you noticed how his glistened as he admired your face. “c’mon mama, touch me. work it for me.” a smug grin, he expressed.
you just kissed his temple, once again in response. his soft afro gently tickling against your warm neck.
as you undo his belt, he pulls it and his pants off, his cock springing free, thick and heavy.
you sit propped against the headboard, your back against the pillows as you work your fingers rhythmically up his shaft. michael lies between your legs, watching your hand move with a rapt expression.
"fuck, right there," michael groans, gripping your thigh. "you have such a good grip, baby."
your fingers wrap around his thick base and stroke slowly. "i’ve been thinking about your cock for weeks," you admit breathlessly. "wanted to know how it felt in my hand."
"does it feel good?" he pants, hips twitching.
"feels better than i imagined," you murmur, twisting your wrist as you drag your hand up to the sensitive tip. "you’re so thick... it makes my mouth water just looking at it."
michael throws his head back against your shoulder, his breath coming in sharp bursts. "yeah? you like my cock, sweetheart?" he grunts, his hips bucking up into your fist.
"easy, baby... just let me handle you," you coax, speeding up your strokes significantly, your fist pumping wet and fast. "stay right there, relax those hips... let me work this perfect cock."
michael instantly melts, his head falling back against your shoulder. "holy fuck—don't stop—don't fucking stop, sweetheart..." he pants, his thighs trembling violently.
"look at mama, michael," you command softly, placing your free hand on his neck and gently guiding his head up. his eyes snap to yours, glazed with pleasure and desire.
he watches you intently as you stroke him faster, his mouth falling open with each hitched breath.
when he looks away, you immediately slow your pace, your fist barely moving. he groans in protest, trying to speed you up with his hips. "baby, no—please—"
"nope," you tease, still moving slowly. "you look away, I slow down. you want me to go faster, pretty boy? keep those eyes on me."
"yes, please... i’m looking, i’m looking," michael breathes, his eyes locked desperately on yours. "you’re so pretty... god, you're so fucking pretty, and you're touching me like I'm yours..."
a thrill shoots through you at his words. You immediately speed back up, your fist becoming a blur. "that’s right," you gasp.
as you pick up speed, you lean in and gently trace your tongue along the shell of his ear, making him shudder violently. "mm, michael. listen to those noises you're making," you murmur against his ear. "your cock feels so good in my hand."
"if you keep talking to me like that, I'm gonna fucking cum," Michael warns, his voice strained. he tries to look away again, but you immediately slow down your strokes. "no—no, baby—please—keep going—keep talking." he locks eyes with you desperately.
"you’re close, aren't you? such a good boy for me..." you purr against his ear, your wrist twisting perfectly. "gonna make that big cock cum all over my hand... right now..."
you speed up, pushing him right to the edge, and then; you stop completely, pulling your hand away.
michael’s entire body jerks forward involuntarily, a guttural cry tearing from his throat. "no—no, no, please baby, don't stop.”
“i’m right there, i’m fucking right there—" he looks at you with wild, yearning eyes, his cock throbbing painfully. "baby, please, i can't—i can't take it anymore.”
you lean his head back gently, spitting a wet, thick stream right into his open mouth. michael chokes slightly, his eyes fluttering closed as he collects it.
you hold your hand under his mouth again, commanding "spit for mama." in a low, easy voice.
michael obediently spits into your waiting palm. "good boy," you praise softly, your voice low and commanding. you smear the saliva all over his throbbing shaft, slicking it up and down before gripping tight and stroking fast.
"holy shit. yes. right there—fuck—" michael cries out, his hips bucking into your hand desperately.
"c‘mon, michael. give it to me..." you encourage, your hand pumping faster. his body tenses sharply. "right there—fuck—i’m..”
his back arches off the mattress, head throwing back. michael groans deeply as his cock bursts, cum shooting thick, white ropes directly onto your hand. It splatters across your knuckles.
you slowly lift your hand, wrapping your tongue around your fingers and licking every thick drop of cum off your knuckles, swallowing his mess with obscene enjoyment.
then you lean down, capturing michael’s mouth. you kiss him deeply, pushing your tongue inside so he tastes his own cum, swirling it between their mouths. he moans against your lips, instantly licking it up.
"good boy," you murmur against his lips, pulling back just as he tries to speak. then, casually, as if you didn't just take him through a devastating orgasm; “baby, can you help me with my homework?"
you pat his cheek, standing up and heading toward the bathroom to wash your hands. michael lies there, completely shattered, nodding unconsciously.
yes i’m doing everything but working on pt.3 😭😭😭 hope yall like this, im sorry im so damn nasty, i swear 🤦🏾♀️
Hi! Can I request a fic with subby/overwhelmed!OTW!Michael receiving, where he’s whimpering and crying because the reader is teasing him and won't let him cum?
𝐂𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐬 𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐲| 𝐌.𝐉𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐬𝐨𝐧
Summary: An innocent sleepover in the Hayvenhurst residence turns into something far from innocent, leaving your best friends brother yearning for you more than he already does
Sub!michael, smut, dry humping, yearning, orgasm control, power control, hand & oral job, tongue kissing.
Today was your best friends birthday, she was the last one of the friend group to turn 18. You, yourself had reached legal status a few months back. You arrived at the Jackson residence earlier that day to help the family set decorations and prepare for the massive slumber party that was planned
Apart of you felt so guilty because you had never confessed to your best friend the desires you had for her brother Michael. He was always the finest brother in your eyes, ever since you were a little girl you crushed on Michael. But now he was older. Everything on him was “bigger” you caught your first glimpse of him a few months ago when you walked into his room to wake him up for breakfast and you saw the erection he had in his sleep, hard and poking through his white underwear
Ever since then it’s all you could think about, the both of you inexperienced but for Michael you were ready to experiment
As the night approached you had slipped into a matching pink laced pajama set to match the rest of the girls. Everyone stayed up telling stories of what they thought college was like, first kisses, experimenting with guys, school, parties, and the guys with the cutest butts. But all you could think about was how Michael kept staring at you all day, even catching him taking exclusive photos of you with he was in charge of getting pictures of everyone. The moment you caught him he was so embarrassed that he hid upstairs for hours until he had to come downstairs for dinner
You waited until you were sure the entire party was asleep, carefully stepping over everybody as you crept your way up the stairs—avoiding the steps you knew had creaks in them. The last thing you wanted to do was wake up the parents or a sibling. Your heart was beating out your chest the entire time until you reached the top of the staircase, sighing in relief you wiped your sweaty hands before knocking softly on Michael’s door
“Come in” he replied softly
Accepting the invite you walked in and gently shut the door behind you. Michael was busy with his back turned flipping through a scrapbook he had been creating over the last few years, once he turned his attention towards you his cheeks burned red as he looked down at your pajamas and back at your face
“Uh—my sisters downstairs if you’re looking for her”
“Actually I was looking for you, if it’s okay”
You walked towards Michael and sat next to him on his bed, your hands accidentally touching forced a chill down his spine that he desperately tried to hide
“Me? You sure?”
“Mhm..I wanted to see what you were doing”
“I like to take pictures of things I find beautiful. Birds, trees, the sky, cartoons, and people”
“Is that why you took a picture of me in my bathing suit earlier today?”
“That was an accident” he immediately stammered “My finger slipped over the dumb button”
You blushed at his shyness, it was innocent
“It’s okay Michael I’m not mad at you. I know your heart”
“Really?” He asked turning his focus to you
“Mhm” scooting in closer “That’s why I like you, you’re not like your other brothers…or really any other guy for that matter”
His face felt like it was on fire hearing you admit “that’s why I like you” because no other girl had admitted those feelings for him
“You like me?” He questioned
“Course I do, you’re a gentleman and you’re handsome…what’s not to like?”
“I didn’t think a girl as pretty as yourself would be interested in a guy like myself”
You stood up and moved the book from his lap exposing his boner, immediately he panicked and tried to cover it up with his hands while looking everywhere but at you “I-m sorry” he blurted out
Grabbing his hands and gently pushing him back to his orange position you sat on his lap feeling his dark blue jeans underneath you. His facial expression going from embarrassment to shock. You placed his large hands over your butt while your hands cupped his face, biting your lip as you stared at his face with lustful eyes
“You have nothing to be sorry about Michael, you’re human everybody gets aroused…you arouse me all the time” you admitted
“How do I do that?” He replied staring up at you
You adjusted yourself before gently grinding into his jeans, the friction of his bulge and jeans created a nice friction for you to pleasure yourself with
“I’ve always been attracted to you Michael—your sweet smile, your big brown eyes, the way you’re so gentle with everything, your hands, your nose…I like everything about you down to your sweet voice”
His dick jumped in his pants hearing you praise him. Again, never having someone compliment such features especially with his insecurities
“You don’t mean that stuff do you?” He questioned
“Of course I do handsome. I would I say it if I wasn’t sincere”
“I think you’re beautiful also” he smiled
“Really?” You blushed “Tell me what you like the most”
As he thought about his answer you kissed his neck gently before sucking in various spots, causing his dick to throb even more. The both of you moaning in each other’s presence, his grip grew tighter as he felt your lips sucking on his sweet spots
“Talk to me please baby” you pleaded before resuming your activity
“I-I love your hair and your smile—everytime I see it, it makes me smile no matter what kinda day I’m having. I like seeing you happy”
You began grinding harder into his bulge and moaning slightly louder than you anticipated
“God and that voice of yours” he moaned shutting his eyes “it’s so angelic whenever you say my name”
“You’re the sweetest boy I’ve ever known. Do I make you feel good?”
“So good” swallowing the lump in his throat “Can you keep doing it please?”
You humped against Michael’s jeans , each one sending pleasuring sensations to your clitoris while you sucked on Michael. His heavy breathing was turning you on and his soft voice in your ear
“Michael you’re making me feel so good” you admitted
“What am I doing?”
“You’re so handsome, just looking at you makes me wanna orgasm all over you”
He bit on his lip and pressed you further into his crotch to feel you better and making you moan again. Feeling yourself making progress you got faster and grinding harder against Michael
“I wanna make you feel good” Michael admitted “You’re making me feel things I’ve never felt before”
“I’m cumming baby” you whimpered as you started to slow down feeling your clitoris convulsing against Michael’s dick
You bit on your bottom lip trying to mask your pleasures
“Wait please don’t stop” he pleaded “I-I never did anything like this but it feels so good please don’t stop”
You continued to dry hump Michael but at a slower speed “You like this baby?”
“It’s incredible” he panted rubbing your back
“You want me to make you orgasm?” Tilting his head up so you can kiss his neck
“Yes please..I’ll do whatever you want”
To his surprise you got off his lap leaving him in shambles with a hard dick. He pleaded with his eyes to you. Little did he know you loved everything about this. You grabbed one of his hands and slid it in your shorts and rubbed your pussy against his fingers, making him jolt before dropping his jaw at how wet you were
“Did I make you do this?”
“Mhm” nodding your head slowly as you formed goosebumps from his touch “You’re the only one who can do this”
“Well why’d you stop? Did I do something wrong?”
“Poor thing” removing his fingers as you kissed his cheek “I thought you might like something else”
“Like what?”
You got on your knees and slowly rubbed his thighs and knees through his jeans before kissing his bulge, pulling off his jeans and watching his dick spring out. All his precum leaking everywhere
“You don’t have to be embarrassed Michael. I’m gonna take care of you”
He swallowed hard watching you get closer to his dick “C-Can I kiss you first?”
You sat up on your knees and met Michael halfway , feeling tingles against the both of your lips experiencing that first kiss spark. Michael accidentally moaned in your mouth feeling how soft your lips were, coincidentally he jolted forward feeling more precum shoot out and staining your chest
“I’m s’ sorry” he pleaded “I’ll take you shopping tomorrow”
“It’s okay baby, just relax for me”
You gently stroked Michael from the base before working your way up to his tip. Watching with each thrust his breath enticing and his whimpering getting stronger. Even slowly grinding into your hand as he tried to chase his peak
“Can you touch it harder?” He asked embarrassed “please?”
Now using both of your hands you stroked his dick from shaft to tip, even spitting on his balls watching it drip to the floor. Michael’s mouth hung open and his eyes glued to you, hands gripping tightly on both sides of his mattress
His breathing was all over the place and his moans were sloppy. Constantly trying to tell you how beautiful you were and how much he loved what you were doing. His favorite part watching you gag on his balls while jacking him off
“It feels like I have to pee” he admitted
Immediately you stopped everything causing Michael to feel his heart drop to his stomach “No, no no, no please—did I say something?” He even reached for your wet hands to prevent you from leaving
“Michael look at me” you grabbed his face “No cumming until I say so, you hear me?”
A smile came across Michael’s face, seeing you become so dominant because he secretly loved the authority. A kink he would soon discover through you
“Yes ma’am, anything you say” taking a deep breath “Just please don’t stop”
You wrapped both hands back around his dick listening to the lubricant make sounds as it slipped through your hands. Michael instantly fell back under your submission
Quickly his orgasm approached once again, he gritted through his teeth trying to fight back. It was obvious that he was ready to explode. He began whimpering and wheezing trying to fight his temptations
“What’s wrong my love?”
“I…I can’t cum” fighting against the lump in his throat
“You ready for me to say yes?”
“Yes please” swallowing the lump in his throat “I don’t think I can hold it in anymore”
You spit on his tip and sucked it slowly taking in as much as you could, Michael’s stomach started to cave in and his eyes rolled back as he moaned loud enough to be heard into the next room
“If we get caught I won’t be able to do this ever again Michael…I need you to be good for me okay?”
“Yes—yes oh goodness yes” his lips quivering
You jerked him off specifically at his tip feeling his legs lock on your sides and shaking uncontrollably. His soft voice now cracking and unrecognizable, but you continued to smile through his deprivation
“Cum for me my sweet boy”
Instantly he released his cum while staring into your eyes. His cum shot out uncontrollably and all over the place, splashing on his clothes and various parts of your body. Michael began moaning so rebelliously that you had to cover his mouth with your other hand while you milked him with the other. His gasping in your hand could be felt through the constant suctioning
Michael collapsed on his bed, you watched his diaphragm quirk frequently followed by muffled sniffling sounds. You climbed on top of him to see he was crying—so embarrassed that he had to cover his face but of course you moved them and kissed his face all over
“My sweet angel” you coo’d
He still didn’t say a word, instead he wrapped his long arms around you and sobbed against your breasts “Can you stay with me tonight? Please?”
You smiled kissing his nose repeatedly “I’ll stay up here”
Over the next few minutes, you reassured Michael that your feelings for him hadn’t changed. If anything, seeing him so vulnerable only made you care for him more. The two of you remained wrapped in each other’s arms until the first rays of sunlight spilled through his bedroom window, gently pulling you from sleep. It was almost as if the morning itself was reminding you to slip back downstairs before anyone discovered where you’d spent the night
Michael kissed you over and over again before allowing you to leave but deep down he didn’t want to let you go until you reassured him that this wouldn’t be the last time the two of you seen each other. As you returned to your sleeping bag all you could think about was the encounter you had with the big you’ve been crushing on since you were a little girl
ㅤꨄ︎ in honour of 2,000 beautiful followers — i present my 2k event ; ‘through every era, him’. a commemoration to every divine era, co-ordinated with each enchanting album, michael jackson gave to us very sincere fans! turned lustful — naturally. a daily fic will be posted on this account ebonymuse and linked here — a sublime array of romantic erotica to display my utmost affection to not only the ethereal man in question, but also my supportive followers ౨ৎ
willow. 20. aquarius. sage green. angst lover. thriller and bad era mj.
- requests and questions are always open and always appreciated. if you ever have any ideas that you would like me to write, let me know and i’ll do it because i really love writing for yall <3
- i write these for fun, nothing serious at all.
- i’m lowkey biased towards thriller and bad era michael.
- i don’t use “y/n” in my writings.
- i love you all so much, yall are like my own little family.
- i try to update as fast as i can so bare with.
- i only write for michael jackson.
- enjoy and feel free to leave any feedback on any of my writings ۫ ꣑ৎ
— SUMMARY: Michael oozes sex appeal without even trying. He’s the world’s biggest sex symbol, he dances like someone that puts women through mattresses, and his songs are filled with longing to make sweet love to women. So, why won’t he fuck you?
— WARNINGS: sub!michael, objectification/perversion, voyeurism, dacryphila, slight somnophilia, inspection kink, accidental edging, overstimulation, pain kink, face sitting, oral (f receiving), unprotected p in v, aggressive sex, mike is pussy drunk, soft dom!reader, cockwarming, aftercare (finally!), fluff. not proofread (yet)!
— WC: 7k (I really don’t know how to shut up…)
— A/N: Based off a prompt from this poll. Yeah, it’s gon get real nasty in here. Here’s subby bad era mj for the ones that see the vision. Also, imagine the biggest L-shaped couch in existence. It’ll make a lot more sense that way, trust me. Thank you all so much for 300 followers!
It was getting ridiculous. 10 and a half months of tension and torture. You were getting so desperate, you started feeling like a hormone-driven, college-aged man.
Seriously, you were objectifying Michael’s every action like some pervert. The way his tongue swirled around his lips after they’d gotten a little dry. Putting on lipgloss just to ‘share some’ with him. Purposely asking him to play his grand piano so that you could watch his fingers work over every tooth. Even objectifying the soft sighs of content he’d make in his sleep.
Your body was aching for his touch.
It all came to a head after you watched your tape of Michael’s Dirty Diana performance in Wembley. Michael had his team take personal videos for you since you couldn’t make it due to work obligations. He was going over the videos with you in your house’s upstairs loft, excitedly gauging your every reaction to the show he put on.
I imagined you standing right on stage with me in this one, he’d told you, handing you the copy so you could put it into the VCR.
As you watched it, you couldn’t help but focus on every detail. He looked so desperate and sang so sensually. Naturally, it turned you on, especially since you’ve been so hungry for him for so long. You were squirming with every thrust, leaking through every hungry whine that seeped past his lips. After the video stopped, your panties were embarrassingly soaked.
He stared at you expectantly and finally cleared his throat after you sat there eyes wide and silent for 4 whole minutes.
“Michael,” you said evenly, voice coming out smoother than you felt.
“Did you like it?” he asked, aching for your approval.
“Like? Mike my panties are soaked,” you admitted with a longing sigh. You were edging over the precipice of insanity.
“O-oh…?” he responded bashfully, not sure how to insert his commentary into this topic.
Admittedly, Michael was insane about you. He kept up a good front when needed, but there were so many times he almost fully let himself go for you. The time you made brownies together and he purposely swiped his index finger around the remnants inside the mixing bowl, presenting his finger so that he could feel your tongue and cheeks suck around his skin. Or, the time you’d left your shared bathroom door slightly ajar, him eagerly peeking in while he watched you clean your sex precisely, his mouth going dry at the sight of your delicate fingers touching your glistening pussy.
He even got turned on by you crying after the two of you watched a particularly devastating romantic movie. The sight of your eyebrows scrunching together was reminiscent of the few times you’d let your makeout sessions turn into heavy petting and your face would mold into the same look when his hardened length desperately ground against your pajama-clad clit.
Still, your admission left him flustered. You broke the silence.
“Why won’t you fuck me?” you asked him, eyes pleading pathetically for his answer.
“Pardon?” he asked, taken aback by the direct question.
“I said,” you inched closer to him on the couch, hand creeping onto his, “Why don’t you fuck me?”
“I-i want…I will…I think about it?” his confession turning into a question as he started losing himself at the feeling of your fingers atop of his. He composed himself and started over.
“It’s just…I want to learn you. I sing all these songs about sexual pleasure and desire, but I feel like a poser. I wanna learn your body. I want to know what exactly makes you squirm, what touches bring you over the edge. Most importantly, I wanna please you. Before anything, I want your pleasure to be put before mine. I want to give you everything before I let you take all of me. Before I make love to you.”
His words stunned you. Obviously, Michael was the most romantic and compassionate person ever, but an insecure part of your brain had convinced you he just didn’t want it. He didn’t want you in that way.
“Oh. Yeah, that makes sense.” You were embarrassed now. Your eyes started brimming with tears, embarrassment flooding over you for ruining the moment.
“Hey, what’s the matter, baby? C’mere. Why’d you ask me that?” he asked you, his slender form slinking closer to yours, engulfing you into a tender hug. He ignored the arousal threatening to bubble through his actions at the sight of your tear clad face.
You hurriedly wiped the tears that were desperately inching to slip from your eyes.
“I dunno. I just thought you didn’t want me in that way. You always stop anything before we can let it get too far. You even cover your eyes when I get naked in front of you.” You let out an airy laugh at the thought. He slightly leaned his body away from yours, capturing your face in his gigantic hands.
“Of course I want you in that way. Didn’t you see my performance? I basically begged for your body up there. I guess I just suck at asking for it.” He scratched the back of his neck, the realization of his lack of his direct communication weighing on him.
“Then do it,” you demanded, the need in your voice almost turning it into pleading. “Ask for it. Beg. Show me you want me.”
He expression turned serious, eager to please you.
“I will.” It was a promise, leaving no room for questions or confusion. Immediately, the weight in the air turned from confusion and insecurity to unbridled lust and determination. He was gonna learn you the way he described.
Faster than you could protest- not that you would- he adjusted your positions. He gently leaned your back onto the expensive black couch and positioned both of his legs on either side of your torso.
“I’m gonna kiss you first. But please, tell me everything you like. Tell me what you want. I’m going to give everything to you,” he stated, and he leaned in for the kiss.
It was explorative and wandering, his tongue prodding here and there with unspoken questions of your desires. He’d bite your lip, pocketing away your reaction as if he were studying it for a test. When he started sucking your tongue, a loud grumble settled deeply in your chest, and he responded with a groan, pleased with his findings. You were nasty, like him. He liked that.
His kisses escaped your encapsulating lips and immediately found their way to your ear. This was something he was curious about. He parted his mouth and gave your lobe a curious graze, looking up at you from under his long lashes. Your back arched infinitesimally as you let out the quietest whine known to humanity. He dove back in and bit harsher, and you whimpered desperately.
“Hmm,” he noted to himself.
His lips and tongue explored your neck next, eager to have an excuse to mark you through in his study of your body. He was fully committed to his research, obsessively sucking and biting the supple skin of your neck as he cradled the side of it in a vampire-esque way. The way you gasped and groaned whenever he sucked harsher bruises into your skin was magnetic. His mind was driven to please.
He continued his journey to your tits, the sight of them short circuiting his brain momentarily. He removed his mouth from the swell of them and groped them greedily, his palms pressing deliciously against your braless nipples through the fabric. He wet his lips at the erotic sight of you. You looked up at him, a silent plea in your eyes for more, and he curled his fingers around the neckline of your tank top.
“Do you want-” Michael began.
“Take it off. Want your mouth on my nipples,” you instructed. You sat up as he followed your command instantly, his hands removing your shirt with precision.
You didn’t know how much you needed this. The moment his lips met your erect nipples, your brain seized with an electric jolt of pleasure.
“Mmm,” you sighed, basking in the pleasure and heat. He was sucking at your breast like he was thirsty, every twitch from your body giving him encouragement. He tried your other breast and you reacted even more so.
“This one’s more sensitive.” It wasn’t a question, it was a statement. He was still researching your body.
“Y-yeah- shit,” you let out an expletive at the feeling of his tongue flicking up and down on the sensitive nub, and you could sense a teasing demeanor slip through his ministrations. You grabbed onto his head and aggressively mashed it against the plush area, eliciting a whimper from him. Your dominance turned him on.
He popped off after your grip on his head loosened. His body slithered down your own like a serpent, sliding down in a way so fluid you would’ve applauded if not for the situation you were currently in.
Then, he just stared at you. Your hair was in a disarray and your nipples were wet and hard. You had the evidence of his possessiveness littered all over your neck and collarbones. To top it off, you were whimpering and panting underneath him. He absolutely adored you like this.
He grew a little more confident, testing your limits here. He had a sneaking suspicion you were into something else. Experimenting with this theory, he ran his hands up and down your torso, preparing for his surprise. Then, you felt a hypnotic jolt of pleasured pain shoot up your spine and let out a cry.
He’d pinched both of your nipples. Hard. After seeing your reaction, he did it again, testing how much harder he could go.
You were an absolute mess. You couldn’t even speak, just letting out whines of approval.
Michael just kept watching.
He dragged his nails up and down your body, starting from the dips in your collarbones to the tops of your knees. It was exhilarating. Particularly, his hand being so close to your neck. You grabbed for it a bit when he was dragging his hands down, but he misread that as you wanting him to go lower. You decided you’d bring it up later.
“Can I take your jeans off and you turn around, please?” he questioned you, an idea evident behind his dark eyes.
You obliged suspiciously, throwing your bottoms on the stack of tapes you’d watched earlier.
As soon as you settled comfortably onto your stomach, Michael lowered his body onto your thighs and slapped your ass so hard that you felt stars. You immediately arched up into his touch, the movement causing his crotch to rub against the back of your thighs. You both moaned out- you lewdly, him embarrassed- at the contact. He rubbed the sensitive area pervertedly, gripping onto your cheek in an unintentionally obvious way.
“S-so you like pain.” Again, not a question, but a note he was taking on this crash course of your desires.
“Mm- yeah i love it,“ you revealed in a tone Michael had never heard you use before. He’d already started making you feel so far gone and he hadn’t even traveled to where you wanted him most.
“Oh god,” he whispered to himself. You heard it, though.
“What?” you asked through ragged breathing, craning your neck the best you could to see his face.
“Keep talking like that, please. I’m into it.” He closed his eyes slightly and rocked his hips onto your thighs subconsciously as the tone of your voice echoed in his brain.
“Hit me again, Mikey. I want it.” You sounded like a pornstar. The tone in your voice was stuck between being full on moans and needy whines.
He obeyed without second thought, his eager eyes watching as the skin under his large hand recoiled and got darker.
“F-uck!” you hiccuped out. You felt tears stinging your eyes at the sensation. The pain was so fucking good. You could feel your pussy glue to your panties from all of the arousal drooling from it.
You arched your ass up higher now, your body craving for more of him. You wanted him everywhere.
He let out a little yelp at the sensation, but then his eyes got distracted.
You were wet. Really, really wet.
Without thought, his hand fluttered straight to the spot on your panties, running over it once so he could feel the stickiness on his fingers.
“Can I please take your underwear off? I wanna look at you,” he asked with patheticism in his voice.
You lifted your ass up higher and let out an ‘mhm’ giving him the okay to slide them off for you.
As he dragged them off your feet, he got off of your body and gently pushed you forward a little more.
“Can I have you stay exactly the way you are, but just on your knees?”
You obliged, leaving your head and torso against the couch while your ass went higher into the air, like you were gonna take him from behind. The image made you clench longingly. He caught that movement immediately.
Then, he sat on his knees right behind you, positioning his face right in front of your core. He leaned in and fanned his hot breath over it, watching you flinch and clench again. He took his middle finger and ran it up and down your folds annoyingly slow. His finger went inside of you just barely, testing how tight it was and teasing you by rolling it around slowly. He pulled out and sucked loudly on his finger for you to hear. Your hole leaked a clear, slick liquid.
He moaned at the flavor, tattooing it to his memory, before he took that same finger and rubbed it into your clit with a feather-like touch.
He knew you wanted more, and he wanted to give it to you, but God, the way your pussy reacted to everything was so captivating. He could watch it clench and leak forever. He dragged his finger back toward your entrance and spread you open with it, inspecting every ridge and fold that his eyes could register. His mouth watered.
You let out a soft whimper when his finger probed your hole again, your resolve weakening.
“Michael stop fuckin’ teasin’ me,” you whined.
“I’m sorry baby, you just look so pretty down there,” he responded, slipping his digit inside immediately. The way you clenched around it was like ecstasy.
“Yeah! Mmm, Mike. Go in ‘n out fast ‘n c-curl your finger up when it’s inside. I- ahh- like it rough.”
You liked it rough. Those were a the words that influenced the rest of his actions for the night.
He added his index finger and pistoned them into you harshly, letting your moans fill up his ears and be his driving force.
“Like that, baby! Fuck! F-feels so fucking good,” you mewled.
He leaned down and slightly nipped your ass cheek, eager to see you squirm and feel your hungry pussy suck his fingers deeper inside.
You shrieked and pushed your ass back father, your walls closing in against his digits. It was getting harder and harder to move inside you.
“You have to relax, love,” he coaxed you gently.
“Ngh- j-just feels too good,” you babbled out. Your brain was making it feel like every nerve of your body was receiving a sensual kiss. You could barely think. Then his tongue was on you.
He latched onto your clit with perfect accuracy and started sucking cautiously, knowing the area was particularly sensitive. Your legs spasmed and you got up onto your hands, needing some grounding. You moaned out his name and the sound hit him like a symphony, encouraging him further.
“Mmm, Michael. You’re so good. Perfect, feels perfect.” you praised him, unable to say proper sentences.
He hummed against you, still keeping up that aggressively brutal pace with his fingers, and you started to see white.
“Ohhh my- I’m s-so close!” you called out, feeling the all too familiar whisper of release heightening your senses and settling into your abdomen.
He sat back, his chin covered with your essence, and set his pace with his fingers faster. Then, he stopped and pulled them out hurriedly.
“I wanna see you. Can you look at me while you cum?” he asked as he slid directly under shaking body, your dripping pussy directly above his face. He pulled you strongly by your thighs, settled you onto his mouth, and continued feasting. His eyes trailed from your beautiful breasts right up to your contorted face, and he moaned loudly at the sight.
You sat up, feeling your orgasm approach again, and rode his mouth and nose for dear life, grabbing one of Michael’s hands to play with your nipple. You watched his face as you ground back and forth.
You looked too good to be true. He got lost in the meal and lightly grazed your clit with his teeth, wanting to learn just how rough he was allowed to get.
Your legs suddenly locked up and you buried his nose deep into your pelvis, blocking all of his air. Then, he felt it.
Your eyes rolled up and your hand gripped from his and slotted into his hair and you let out the most broken moan imaginable. Your warm, sticky release soaked the entire bottom half of his face.
“F- OH!” was all you could say as it dawned on you.
Michael couldn’t breathe, but he didn’t want to. He lapped at you through the whole thing, his vision blacking out as he lost air. You leaned forward and collapsed your body right above his head, having enough sense to remember to let him breathe. Again, Michael didn’t want to.
He got a fierce hold on your spent body and sat you right back on top of him, wanting more of your juices. He would happily pass out over and over from you suffocating him with your pussy if it were up to him.
“Not done yet,” he stated as he dove back in, this time groping your ass and pulling you onto him by it. He shoved his nose forward, fiercely taking his air away, while looking up at you like you were treasure.
“Mike! S’ too m-much.” You started sobbing above him, the pleasure overwhelming you. A tear spilled over your cheek and landed on his forehead. Yet, you secretly didn’t want him to stop. The fire in his eyes to please you was intense and infectious.
Michael ignored your words, eyes glazing over at the sight of your pleasure evident tears, as he started losing oxygen again. He moved his nose away and inhaled the air desperately, ready to lose it all again.
Unbeknownst to him, your second orgasm was running toward you at full speed, not giving you enough time to prepare for it. You choked out a glorious sob of his name and jerked your hips up, the tip of his nose sitting proudly under your clit.
Underneath you, he was smiling like a lunatic
You slid down and laid atop of his body, catching your breath for the second time, after not even really catching it the first.
He looked down at you on his chest, worried he’d pushed you too far.
You could feel his loaded gaze on you.
“Not done. Just need to catch my breath,” you said as you looked up and gave him a lazy smile.
It took his breath away. You looked ruined. Your eyes were red and wet with tears, your hair was a mess, the hickeys and scratches on your skin were darker. And you were drooling.
“You’re breathtaking,” he told you with a genuine gasp.
“So are you,” you complimented. He looked just as fucked out as you did, and he wasn’t even getting touched.
“I need you. I want you inside of me, and I want you to fuck me senseless. Give it to me,” you remarked, not caring to catch your breath anymore.
Your hand traveled to his belt and worked it open without waiting for a response. You unzipped his pants, and then looked back up at him.
“Take these off. And your shirt,” you ordered him bluntly. His cock throbbed ravenously at your dominance.
“Yes. O-okay,” he said as he gently slid from beneath you and followed your orders, throwing his clothes right on top of yours.
You licked your lips at the art in front of you, his beauty something you swore was inhuman.
You lips meet his hungrily as you carefully laid back on the couch, mimicking your earlier position. You pulled him between your parted legs and flush against your chest, gently rocking back and forth with his heavy length going between your clit and stomach. You felt his precum dribble right above your pelvis as he let out a broken whine. You broke away from the kiss.
“I need you inside Michael,” you said, dangerously close to begging him.
He sat up and grabbed your face between his large palms, his eyes giving you a serious look.
“I love you so much, my pretty girl. You tell me if it hurts or if you get uncomfortable or wanna stop, okay? And tell me when it feels good, please,” he asked you passionately.
“I will,” you declared, your heart softening at the depth behind his words.
He positioned his leaking length between your folds and grazed his tip against your clit, teasing himself in the process. You bucked your hips up with a huff. Michael grabbed you by them, leaned forward to kiss you, and pushed himself in at the same time.
You both moaned against each other’s mouths, and Michael stopped halfway, resting his forehead against yours. The tightness of your pussy was dangerous. The length and girth of his dick was too.
He was fucking huge. His dick was splitting you open hungrily and you were clenching around him like you craved it all.
“Holy shit, you’re huge. Oh my, fuck. Put it all in,” you demanded and you pulled him forward needily.
You’d never felt so filled in your life. You could see him in your cervix, feel him in your veins, and even taste him on your tongue.
Michael was also absolutely losing it. He never knew sex could feel this good. You guys hadn’t even started properly making love yet, but he felt incredible. Your walls were basically choking his dick. Each clench you gave him was like a vice. His instincts took over and he started thrusting into you hungrily.
The sounds that left your mouth were downright sinful. If he didn’t know any better, he’d think you were faking your moans. They sounded like cascades of love, and very pornographic.
“Michael, oh my god. Yes!” He found your g-spot. “Right there! Fuck me harder!” you exclaimed. Then, you remembered something. “Ch-choke me. Baby- shit. Choke me Michael.”
“Yes ma- ahh- hmm. Yes, baby.” He was fucking you senseless. He watched as your eyes rolled back and your tongue lolled out of your bruised, plump lips and he went deeper and gripped your neck. You were losing yourself in the pleasure he was giving you, and that’s exactly what he wanted.
“B-baby. Look at me please. Wanna see you,” he said desperately, craving the approval from your eyes. He moved your head by your neck to look at him, and your eyes traveled back his face. Your gummy walls clenched around his engulfing dick at the sight of him. He was fully crying, the tip of his nose turning red.
“Oh, Michael. You’re heavenly,” you praised him causing him to shyly duck his head. You thrusted your hand up and forced his face up by his cheeks, squeezing them ferociously.
“I wanna see your expressions too, angel face. L-look how good you’re fucking me.” You pulled his face down to look at where the two of you became one, and directed his face back to yours, pulling him in for a sloppy kiss.
You were losing yourself in the feeling of it all, already being so overstimulated from earlier, and you felt your third orgasm of the night approach you. You tried pushing away for a second to warn him, but Michael’s lips chased yours instantly. He was completely gone.
You opted for using your free hand to reach down and circle your abused clit to take you over the edge. The doubled friction was so good, it only took a few harsh rubs, and you were gone.
As you came, your body went completely limp under his, your legs flattened on the coach cushions and your hand dropped from his now sore cheeks.
He kept going, even as you came down. This man was completely lost inside of you, and he was moving in a way that suggested he didn’t wanna be found.
“Mikeyyy,” you moaned out at him, the sensitivity numbing your brain too much to finish your thought.
He didn’t listen to your protest, or couldn’t. He just wanted you to keep feeling good, and the way you continuously sucked him in showed him you were still enjoying it. He felt so good, but he didn’t want to let go. He displayed his strongest act of willpower, edging himself over and over with each one of your orgasms. He almost came when he fingered you, when ate you out, hell, even when you told him to take his clothes off.
He slowed down a bit, learning every ridge inside of you and committing it to memory. He savored the slower pace as well, burying himself to the hilt and holding his dick deep in you after each stroke.
You could practically taste heaven on your tongue.
His curly hair was stuck to his forehead and he was giving you the biggest puppy-dog eyes you’d ever seen on a human.
You could feel yet another orgasm coming, this one coming in like a thunderclap before lightning; you could sense it with enough time before it happened to warn him.
“Mik-ey. G’na cum again.” You turned your head and kissed the inside of his wrist next to you.
“Please. Please cum again, pretty. I wanna feel it again,” he pleaded. He leaned down closer to you, his whimpers falling into your ears while he thrust harder and harder, drinking up the bliss painted on your face.
You came around him with a heartbreaking whine, your bottom lip jutting into a full on pout and your chest heaving with sobs. You’ve never felt so good in your life.
He slowed down a bit more, albeit not coming to a full stop, and wiped your tears with one hand.
“P-please one more, doll. Please. I’ll cum with you this time. Jus’ need one more. Need you to cum on- ngh- on me again.
At the realization that yes, he hadn’t cum at all, your pussy throbbed at his act of service. He was physically holding himself back just to ruin you like you told him to. He was such a good listener.
“Oh, my sweet boy,” you cooed at him reaching up to grip your fingers into his hair. “Take another one from m-me. I can handle it,” you stated, determination creeping into your voice.
He let out a beautifully tragic whimper at your demand, and picked up his pace. He lifted himself up and propped one of your legs onto his shoulder, determined to get you there as soon as possible.
It was like a new hunger bubbled up inside of you. Your body was still aching with sensitivity, but it was as if you still hadn’t been touched. The aggression in his moves had you seeing God.
“I wanna get on top,” you let out before you could even think. Your lips were moving faster than your brain had time to filter your thoughts.
“God damn,” he responded at your declaration. He flipped your bodies over expertly and held your waist in anticipation. You looked him in the eyes and placed your hand into his neck to steady yourself.
He let out a choked moan at the contact looking up at you in shock.
“Can you squeeze my neck, please? Please choke me,” he begged, his mouth parted desperately.
You gave it a rough squeeze and you took his ginormous dick inside of you. The dual pleasure was pushing him to the edge. He rolled his eyes back and smiled like he was on psychedelics, the lack of air making everything feel like ecstasy.
You released his neck slightly, giving him room to breathe, as you started bouncing up and down, your tits bobbing seductively above his face as you did so. You dragged your free hand up to your tits, holding them under your arm to stop the harsh drag of them. That only made it worse for him. The roundness of them became more prominent with the strain of your arm.
You looked back down at him with your eyebrows knitted and your eyes lowered with lust. You reached back down and kissed him intimately, squeezing his neck tightly and opening your eyes to take in his expression. He looked like lust personified. Then, you felt it coming and you broke the kiss. You removed your hand from his neck and lightly smacked his cheek, signaling him to look at you.
“G’na cream that big dick of yours M-Mikey. You gotta cum with me. ‘M so…I’m g…I- FUCK!”
This orgasm tore through you like a tsunami, crashing over and over in brutal waves.
Michael came as soon as the first clench came from your pussy. He cried out the prettiest moan you’d ever heard, the sound rivaling his singing vocals.
“Please, please, please, thank you. Y-yes! GOD, oh, thank you, I love you,” was all he could say between sobs.
You collapsed on top of him and caught your breath, letting his dick soften up inside you. After a moment, you pulled him out of you and felt both of your releases spill onto the couch. Michael could feel some of it slide down his own dick and he whined at the feeling. He was that sensitive.
“My god Michael, you’re insane,” you said, breaking the silence.
He let out a breathy laugh.
“Only for you,” he responded, looking at you with lazy eyes.
“Yeah, you better,” you said only half joking, your hand coming up to his face to squeeze his cheeks together again.
The two of you got up and stretched, joints aching with the activities of the night.
“Let me run us a bath, pretty girl. I’ll be right back,” Michael stated, still so eager to service you. He gave you a kiss, took your scattered clothes, and disappeared into your room’s shared bathroom, turning on the faucet of the huge bathtub and pouring in bubble soap and bath salts. He dimmed the lights and turned on the mini radio that sat atop the spacious counter, humming along to the jazzy instrumental crackling from its speakers. He left the bathroom, leaving the bath to run, and walked into your shared walk-in closet.
He picked out simple pajamas for the two of you. He got a plain white tee and tartan pajama pants for himself, and a pair of boyshorts and one of his comically oversized graphic tees for you, knowing you liked wearing it as a nightgown sometimes. He smiled to himself as he folded the clothing and placed them on top of the bed, awaiting your arrival.
You’d walked into the room shortly after, having tidied up the living room and cleaning up the cum from the couch. Your legs were aching from the sex and walking up the steps. You opened the door with a creak, legs almost giving out.
He turned around to face you, having just completed his task of putting both of your soiled clothes in your shared laundry basket. He grabbed your hand as he went to turn off the faucet in the bathtub, followed by sounds of you complaining. He didn’t want to walk away from you while you just came in, but your legs felt like you were moving in quicksand. He dipped his hand inside, testing the water and motioned for you to check for yourself. You gave him a thumbs up.
“You actually ruined me, Mike,” you complained dramatically as you wrapped your arms around his neck.
“That’s exactly what you asked me to do. Multiple times, at that! Can’t go back on your word now, silly girl.” He chuckled softly and booped your nose before stepping into tub, grabbing onto your hand to help you in like a gentleman.
“I’m not, I just wasn’t expecting…all that. It was like you were a different person. Very sexy of you, by the way.” You settled in front of him and he grabbed your loofah, doused it with soap, and started washing your back for you like it was something he was used to. He scrubbed you like you were the most delicate thing in the universe.
“I dunno what came over me either, honestly. I really was jus’ cravin’ you that much. I didn’t even know needin’ you more than I usually do was possible.” He paused, his usual shyness creeping back in. “And, uh, you were very sexy as well. Better than I ever imagined you’d be,” he tacked on, flustered.
“Thank you, angel.” You leaned your head back and gave him an upside-down kiss on the lips, feeling a shy smile creep into his lips. You picked your head back up and twisted your upper body around to face him.
“Aww, my baby,” you cooed at him.
“Y’know that nickname makes me shy,” he says, referring to ‘angel’ and all variations of it. He lifted your arms and scrubbed your sides and your stomach, traveling his way to your breasts as you responded.
“How can I not when you have such an angel face? You’re so precious, c’mon,” you fake pouted at him. Sweet vanilla and warm cinnamon filled your nostrils. Your favorite body wash. “See? You even act like an angel. You replaced my favorite body soap for me ‘cause it ran out.”
“That’s nothin’. I’d buy you a castle-” he paused, seeing the incredulous look on your face, realizing he was somehow helping your point. “Okay, okay whatever. You’re the one sent from heaven, though. Here, gimmie your leg ‘n hold onto my shoulder.”
Your face warmed up at the sincerity in his tone and the gentleness he used with you. As he continued his work, you watched him, filled with gratitude. He was so happy taking care of you like this, and you wondered how such a sweet person could truly exist.
As he finished you up he started washing himself up as you watched in adoration. You took his loofah and scooted to switch sides with him, washing his back as he did yours. He hummed along to the instrumental from the little radio, sounding identical to the saxophone singing from it. So beautiful.
The two of you dried your feet on the plush carpet beside the tub and stepped into the shower directly next to it to wash your hair and rinse off.
He washed his own hair as you rinsed off and cleaned your legs once more, both of you clingily standing under the huge showerhead that was big enough for more space between the two of you. You were just craving each other more than usual after crossing that final line.
You stood behind him as he wrung his hair, in no rush to free your eyes from the sight of his sleek, yet toned back in front of you. You leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the back of his shoulder and ran your hands up and down his waist once. Lurching forward, you grabbed your shampoo, and Michael took it from you unexpectedly.
“Wet your hair for me?” he asked, squeezing a glob into his hand and lathering it up.
You did just that and he turned you away from him, massaging the shampoo into your scalp as he combed your hair simultaneously. The domestic action made you want to drop to your knee and propose to him right there.
You reached your hand back and rubbed it up and down his arm in a silent ‘thank you’, too content to break the silence.
He grabbed it and gave it a romantic peck, rinsing the shampoo off and gently placing it back to your side. After he finishing working in and rinsing the conditioner, he stepped out of the steamy shower, leaving the water running for you. He grabbed your towel and beckoned you out, wanting to make sure you stayed warm the whole time.
He stepped back in and turned off the faucet and you wrapped yourself up, and then unraveled your towel and dried you off. He patted your hair dry and wrapped it up, as you made your way to the sink counter to get your blow dryer. You turned it on its second coolest setting and blew the water out of your hair, not focus on getting it to look a certain way.
He drained the tub, rinsed it out, and then dried off as you finished with your hair. He handed you your bathrobe.
“Here sit down,” he motioned to the plush ottoman sitting in there for whenever you moisturized your body. He grabbed your lotion and kneeled down, lathering it into your neck and shoulders, then down the front and back of your torso, lifted you up so he could get your ass, rubbed into your thighs and legs, and finally massaged your feet.
“Baby, you don’t have to do all this,” you protested, feeling bad that he was spending more time on your showing process than his own.
“I want to. I told you, I wanted our first time together to be perfect. That includes aftercare, baby. Besides, this is bare minimum.” He scoffed at your protest, offended. He placed your foot down and looked up at you, eyebrow raised.
You leaned down and pressed a kiss to his forehead.
He lotioned himself with his own scent with super speed, and out in his own bathrobe, then reached for the blow dryer. While he dried his own hair, you washed your face and moisturized it, letting the cool products seep into your skin. You picked up both of your towels and put them into your bathroom hamper as he quickly washed his own face. You slinked out of your bathrobe, hanging it up on the rack, and he followed behind you, turning off the light and closing the door behind him.
You saw the clothes folded up on the foot of the bed and smiled at him lovingly.
“You are so cute, did y’know that?” you asked him as you took in the setup before you.
“Enough of that,” Michael said, feigning annoyance. He was really just flustered. “Here, step in.” You pulled your boyshorts up your legs and over your naked sex and bottom. He ignored the way they fit on you and then stood up and pulled his t-shirt over your head. He hurried into his clothes and lifted the blanket on your side of the bed, leaned you into it.
“Gonna turn off the light,” he said as he ran to the wall and back to the bed, not really giving you time to notice he was leaving.
As the mattress slightly does on his side, you reached out for him and laid your head onto his chest, smelling the scent of your body wash and his own lotion on him. You softly sighed.
“Thank you for being so good to me,” you said tiredly.
“No, thank you. I’m so happy I made you my girl, ‘n I’m so grateful I got to express my love for you physically today.” He gave you a kiss on your forehead and pressed your body closer to his. “Can I have a kiss?” he asked you shyly.
“You don’t have to ask, y’know,” you said with a chuckle as your lips met his. You deepened it slightly, suddenly getting another flood of arousal at the feel of his body through his thin clothing. He did too, and you could feel it.
“I’m for sure too tired for a round three of a sixth orgasm, but we can try something,” you mused.
“Yeah, ‘n what’s that?” he asked with a smirk.
You pulled down his pants just enough to free his hardened sex, and pulled your own undies to the side. You gave him one more kiss and turned around, pushing it into you with a soft whine leaving both of your lips.
The stretch did just enough, as did your tightness around him. He slightly throb inside of you, the feeling of your cunt around him acting as a sensual hug. He adjusted just slightly, subconsciously aching for the friction he felt earlier. You both lazily met the other’s slow grinds, too tired to chase release, but still desperate for just a little bit more. It felt magical and poetic. You eventually stopped moving, too tired to take anything more from each other.
“Goodnight, my darling girl. Thank you for accepting the raw, unfiltered version of me. I’ve never been this vulnerable with anyone, n’ I’m so grateful that it was with you. I can’t wait to learn you more. I love you so very much,” he declared.
“I love you too, baby,” you said, exhaustion lacing your voice. “You’re perfect, all of you. Thank you for being comfortable for sharing it all with me. ‘N thank you for wanting to meant me. You make me feel so appreciated and adored. Sleep well, my love.”
You both felt eternally close to each other now, physically and emotionally. The activities of today blanketed your figures in a heavy gratefulness.
He pulled you back, wanting to be even closer to you somehow, and pressed kisses up and down your neck and the side of your face. He hummed a soft tune and stroked your hair softly as the two of you drifted off to sleep.
making thriller!michael feel soo good during sex that he sheds a few tears:
── .✦
your hips would be moving in a relentless rhythm as you rode him, your hands braced against his chest as you felt the rapid thumping of his heart under your palms.
michael's head would be rolled back against the headboard, his jaw clenched hard. his hands would lock onto your hips, knuckles turning white from how hard his fingers dug into your skin.
"can't...oh god," he'd whimper, his voice raspy. a high, desperate whine would slip from him every time you hit that perfect sweet spot. he'd be so overwhelmed by it, his head spinning from the feeling of your body.
when you'd look at him, his eyes would be squeezed shut, his long lashes damp and clumped together. tears would gather at the corners before a couple eventually slipped free, rolling down his flushed cheeks.
and if you asked him if he was crying, he'd immediately hide his face behind his hands. you'd reach up and gently pull them away.
his eyes would be all glassy and doe-eyed when he'd looked up at you. he'd glance away in embarrassment, only for his gaze to drift back to yours. he just couldn't look away from the sight of you.
he'd reach up, one trembling hand finding the back of your neck as he pulled you down into a messy kiss, whimpering and whining into your mouth as he held you close.
his whimpers would pitch higher as he came in hot spurts while clinging to you. the sound would break off into shaky gasps while his body trembled.
you'd slump forward over him afterward, both of you trying to catch your breath. his face would drop to the crook of your shoulder, hiding there as his breathing slowly steadied. you’d run your fingers through his curls, gently playing with them while he stayed tucked against you as another tear slipped free.
content: straight up SMUT, submissive, shy, but yet so perverted michael. he's absolutely obsessed with you and your body. and it gets nastyy in the best way. you end up dominating him. lot of humiliation appears as well.
summery: you and michael are practically best buddies at this point, so you invite him over. having a fun time...until he steals your panties that he'll drool over
a/n: it really is nasty so be prepared. also mike's really submissive here, basically worshipping you. AND this got way longer than i intended it to be so i marked all the rly spicy parts if you just want to get straight to the point. example:
————————————————————————
with this line, you'll know when the spicy part begins and ends. hope yall like it!!
word count: somewhere at 6.5k
you were introduced to michael through a mutual friend a year ago. since then, the two of you had become surprisingly close, spending countless afternoons together - almost always at his house.
today, however, things were different. for the first time, you invited him over to your place.
your home wasn't nearly as large as michael's. your family was comfortably middle-class, your house being average, but cozy. the familiar scent of home-cooked food drifted through the air, making the place feel even cozier.
"hi, mrs. clark!" michael greeted your mother politely as soon as he stepped inside. "well, aren't you sweet?" she replied with a smile.
lunch was already waiting on the table. As the three of you ate together, michael complimented the food and the house, keeping the conversation going. he listened attentively to your mom's stories and joked around with both of you, making the atmosphere light and comfortable.
before long, lunch was over. your mother gathered her things and headed for the door. "make sure you behave, kids!" she called out with a laugh. you rolled your eyes. "we're not kids anymore, mom." she only laughed harder before leaving to travel for work.
the house fell quiet once the front door closed. since michael would be spending the night, you suggested he change into something more comfortable. he agreed, and the two of you disappeared into separate rooms to change. a few minutes later, you emerged wearing a pair of shorts and an oversized shirt, feeling much more relaxed.
the weather outside was too nice to ignore, so you both headed into the backyard. a small pool sat in the center of the yard, the water sparkling beneath the afternoon sun.
you spent the next several minutes teasing each other, exchanging jokes and playful insults.
"you're getting slow," michael smirked.
"oh, please. you're just getting cocky." before you could react, he gave you a light shove. you stumbled backward, arms flailing as you struggled to keep your balance near the edge of the pool.
"michael!" he immediately burst out laughing. "i wasn't actually gonna let you fall!"
"oh, really?" before he could step away, you pushed him.
his eyes widened. "wait—" SPLASH. the water exploded around him as he landed in the pool. you doubled over laughing, completely satisfied with your revenge. "serves you right!"
michael surfaced, sputtering and brushing wet hair out of his face. "oh, you're dead."
still laughing, you took a step back. unfortunately, that was exactly what he was waiting for. in one quick motion, he reached out, grabbed your ankle, and pulled. you let out a startled yelp before tumbling into the water beside him. another splash echoed through the yard.
when you surfaced, michael was laughing just as hard as you had been moments earlier.
"that's what you get," he said.
you splashed water at him. "hey! how dare you? only i get to do that!"
you both laughed hard. for a moment, though, his expression shifted.
his eyes dropped to your body. your wet clothes clinging to your body. he just stared for a moment. and with the way your clothes hugged you, he was getting a clear view on the shape of your boobs and nipples - especially since you didn't wear a bra. he felt his erection slowly growing. a faint blush was creeping onto his face.
"what?" you asked, narrowing your eyes suspiciously.
"nothing."
"you're acting weird."
"i'm not."
"you totally are."
and judging by the way he refused to meet your eyes, he seemed to be realizing that too.
michael was acting strangely now.
ever since you had fallen into the pool, he couldn't seem to focus. his gaze kept drifting back to you before quickly darting away again.
the sight of your drenched clothes wasn't helping. water clung to the fabric, outlining every curve and detail, while droplets slowly trailed down your skin.
it was all making him flustered. thankfully, you couldn't see his huge throbbing erection beneath the water.
he just couldn't help himself. his eyes were involuntarily peeking at your now drenched cleavage, the way the water droplets on your chest dripped right in between your boo-
"mikee? hello?" you wave in front of his eyes, making him snap back to reality.
"you good?" you ask, wondering why he keeps getting dazed off.
"y-yeah im good."
he definitely wasn't.
you splashed water at him.
"weirdo," you said with a laugh. michael forced a smile.
then you started climbing out of the pool. his eyes followed before he could stop himself.
your soaked shorts clung to you as water streamed down your legs. he was just admiring the perfect shape of your ass. every step only made him more aware of how much trouble he was in.
"let's go, michael."
fuck. he couldn't get out right now. not without embarrassing himself with his hard-on.
"where are you going?" he asked, trying to sound casual.
"probably gonna take a shower now." michael swallowed hard.
his perverted imagination immediately betrayed him, filling his head with images of you - completely drenched and naked - that he desperately tried to push away.
"y-you go ahead," he said. "i'll stay here a bit."
you raised an eyebrow. "oookay... see ya."
with that, you headed back inside. michael was watching as you walked away, his hand squeezing his hard dick.
the second you disappeared through the door, michael let out a long breath and ran a hand through his wet hair.
get it together.
he leaned back against the edge of the pool, trying - and failing - to calm himself down.
eventually, he forced himself out of the water.
the house was quiet now.
he could hear the distant sound of the shower running somewhere inside. as he stepped into the hallway, he paused near the bathroom door. his heart beating fast as you're on the other side completely naked.
"h-hey, Y/N?" he called.
"yeah?"
"where can i get a towel?"
"just grab one from my room. it's right next to the bathroom."
"got it."
michael pushed open your bedroom door. immediately, he was hit by the familiar scent of the room. it felt unmistakably yours. his heart beat a little faster.
he crossed to the wardrobe, searching for a towel. that's when he noticed the pile of clothes you'd changed out of earlier, underwear included.
his breath caught. for a second, he simply stared.
then he looked away.
then looked back.
his thoughts were spiraling now, imagining the laced bra holding your breasts, the matching panties clinging to your pussy all day. this was ridiculous. he knew it was ridiculous.
still, his pulse wouldn't slow down and neither did his now painful erection.
grabbing a towel as quickly as possible and drying himself, he tried to focus on literally anything else.
anything.
the shower continued running down the hall. his gaze drifted toward the bedroom door. then toward the pile again.
"get a grip," he muttered under his breath.
————————————————————————
at the end, his dick got the best of him as he reached down for the worn panties, nervously peeking at the door just in case.
for a moment, he simply held them in front of him and stared. his breathing had become uneven. his heart hammered so hard he could feel it in his chest. he couldn't believe he was actually doing this.
his mind wandered off. wondering what you smelt like. what you tasted like. the curiosity had been building ever since the pool, and now it was impossible to ignore.
slowly, he brought the fabric closer to his face, making sure it was the side that had been against your pussy. then he took a deep breath. fuck.
he felt his dick instantly twitch hard. it was even better than he imagined. he inhaled again. and again. each breath made his head spin a little. small, shaky sounds escaped him despite his efforts to stay quiet. he could get addicted to this.
his tip already drenched in precum as he continued breathing in your scent.
eventually, he lowered himself onto your bed, your panties still pressed close to his face. everything about the situation made it worse. the fact that he was doing this here, in your room, surrounded by your things, and especially in your bed that your skin touches every night, wasn't helping him at all.
without even realizing it, his hips began moving slightly against the mattress.
his eyes drifted back to the garment in his hands. the faint damp spot in the center immediately caught his attention, sending another pulse of desire through him as he realizes it must be your pussy juices.
before he fully thought it through, he brought the fabric closer again, unable to resist. he slowly brings his tongue near the damp spot and licks it. a shaky moan slipped from his lips. you tasted just as good as you smelt, maybe even better, he thought. this was dangerous. he might cum just from this if he keeps going.
his movements became more desperate,
more erratic as he kept on sniffing and licking your panties. he was losing himself in it. every rational thought was being drowned out by pleasure. he can't think straight anymore, his dick doing the thinking for him.
it didn't take long before he realized he was getting close. very close. at that point, consequences didn't matter. not right now. not while he was drowning in sensation. all he can think about is just your worn panties, imagining what your pussy looks like and the pleasure he's getting from all of this.
his breathing became ragged. his hips stuttered. and then, with one final desperate thrust and a pathetic, muffled moan, he came. hard. the orgasm hit him way harder than he expected. his body jerked as wave after wave rolled through him.
————————————————————————
he just lays there for some time, riding out his orgasm, trying catch his breath. slowly, reality began to return. and with it came the shame. finally when he's calm enough, he slowly gets up. his eyes immediately landed on the damp spot, seeing the aftermath of his orgasm. his stomach dropped. what has he done. what is he gonna do. panic starts creeping in.
he puts the panties back and quickly grabs the towel, trying to wipe it off, desperately trying to minimize the evidence. excuses raced through his head. the bed? he could just blame it on his wet shorts from the pool. and the cum in his pants? he can also blame it on the pool. maybe if you noticed anything, he could blame it on that.
maybe.
god, he hoped so.
then the sound of running water from the bathroom suddenly stopped. michael froze. his heart jumped into his throat. you were done showering. you couldn't find out. you absolutely couldn't.
but even now, despite the panic clawing at him, his eyes drifted back toward the panties again. god, the smell really was addicting. for a split second he hesitated. debating. tempted.
then he heard footsteps approaching. acting purely on instinct, he snatched them up and shoved them into his pocket.
then the door opens and you appear. michael tries his best to act normal, casual - like as if he didn't just come from the smell of your panties alone.
"hey, mike. you can take the shower now if you want," you said as you walked into the room.
then you paused. something about the way he was standing looked strange. suspiciously stiff.
in michael's mind, he was doing a fantastic job acting normal.
. . .
clearly, he wasn't.
"y-yeah. thanks."
you narrowed your eyes slightly. he was still acting weird. then your attention shifted to the damp spot on the bed.
"michael?"
his stomach dropped.
"don't tell me you sat on my bed with your wet ass," you accused playfully. for a split second, pure terror flashed through him. then he forced out an awkward laugh. "oh. uh... yeah. oops?" he scratched the back of his neck.
his pulse was still racing, terrified that somehow you'd figure out what had actually happened.
you rolled your eyes. "whatever. i'll just change the sheets while you take a shower."
michael nodded a little too quickly. "right."
without wasting another second, he turned and headed for the door. he went to the guest room first, where he was gonna sleep tonight. there, he opens his backpack and pulls out his pyjamas first. then, after a brief hesitation, he reached into his pocket and took out your underwear. his throat tightened. for a moment, he simply stared at it. then, with a nervous gulp, he quickly tucked it into his bag and zipped it shut.
he grabbed his pajamas to change into and headed for the bathroom. after all, wearing shorts cum-stained and uncomfortable from earlier wasn't exactly ideal.
once inside, he locked the door and began undressing. a moment later, he stepped beneath the hot spray of the shower. the water ran down his shoulders as he tilted his head back, trying to relax.
unfortunately, his thoughts had other plans. he just kept thinking about how you were here, right where he is right now, naked just a moment ago.
he feels himself getting hard again. he breaths out hard, trying to calm himself down. he can't be acting like this at your house, he's your guest after all. your friend. (knowing that at home he jerks off to you multiple times a day). this time, he holds back with all his strenght and doesn't touch himself. trying to distract himself with different thoughts.
eventually, he calmed himself down a bit. he gets out the shower and puts his pajamas on. his cock is just semi hard now, making it easier to hide.
he grabs his cum stained shorts and runs them under water, trying to clean them as much as possible and then hanging them on the heating to dry along with his old shirt.
then he comes out. "michael, in the living room!" you yell out as you hear the bathroom door open.
he followed your voice and stepped into the room. immediately, he stopped. the coffee table was covered in snacks and drinks, and the television was already set up. "oh, what's all this?" he asked, pleasantly surprised.
you grinned. "movie night!!"
michael couldn't help smiling. he dropped onto the couch beside you. "that's actually really sweet. what are we watching?"
you grinned mischievously. "i'm really in the mood for psycho today."
michael stared at you. "a horror movie?"
you nodded. michael absolutely hated horror movies. he got scared way too easily.
"absolutely not!" laughing, he reached for the remote.
you immediately stretched your arm away. "nope!"
the two of you burst into laughter as he tried to steal it from you. you kept moving it just out of reach.
"give it!"
"make me!"
neither of you realized how close you'd gotten. michael leaned further over the couch. you twisted away to keep the remote out of his grasp.
then suddenly-
both of you froze. he was practically on top of you. your breath caught for a second. michael seemed to realize it at the exact same moment. his eyes widened. his heart immediately started racing.
"oh—uh—sorry." he quickly backed away. not wanting to accidentally cross a line (not like you minded), he settled back into his seat. his face had already turned red.
you tried - and failed - not to laugh. secretly, you enjoyed how easy it was to fluster him.
"stop blushing like a virgin." you laughed.
michael's face somehow became even redder. "i'm not—"
"what? you're saying you're not a virgin?" you snorted. "no way."
"i—"
he immediately gave up. clearing his throat, he gestured toward the television. "anyway. the movie."
you grinned triumphantly.
"i guess we can watch it." he was letting you win. again.
"yay!" you couldn't wait to watch michael scream at every jumpscare. the thought alone was hilarious.
and sure enough, throughout the movie, michael reacted to every single scare. every. single. one. sometimes he'd jolt upright. sometimes he'd nearly throw the popcorn. once, he almost yelped.
you were having the time of your life. the funniest part, however, was that whenever something startled him badly enough, he'd instinctively reach for your hand.
the moment he realized what he'd done, he'd immediately let go. "sorry."
then a few minutes later, another jumpscare would happen. and he'd do it again. by the halfway point, you were laughing harder at michael than at the movie itself.
meanwhile, michael was trying desperately to focus on anything other than how warm your hand felt whenever he accidentally grabbed it. his cock the one jumping now.
toward the end of the movie, you started getting sleepy. your eyelids grew heavier with every passing minute, closing involuntarily despite your efforts to stay awake. you fought it for a while, but eventually sleep won. your body relaxed completely. before you even realized it, your head had fallen onto michael's shoulder. the sudden weight startled him. he froze instantly. looking down, he saw that you'd fallen asleep. his heart immediately sped up. he sat perfectly still, afraid that even the slightest movement might wake you. not moving an inch - though his dick sure was, by more than an inch.
he just watches your face, peacefully sleeping. his breathing getting heavy again. the way your face looked so innocent now, the way your head was touching his shoulder and the way you were breathing peacefully made him throb more than it should've. he couldn't help it, his dick was just obsessed with you.
then he panicked again - realizing that if you wake up now, it'll be impossible to miss his huge boner under his sweatpants. shit.
he slowly moves away, gently holding your head, letting you lay on the couch. you didn't wake up, phew.
————————————————————————
he goes quickly, but quietly in the guest room. he closes the door gently. then he finally breaths. it was getting painful with how hard he was. he had to take care of this. fast. just in case you woke up.
his mind rushes to the panties in his backpack. before he could talk himself out of it he crossed the room and unzipped the bag. there they were. his stomach twisted. he grabs them. then he settles on the bed and pulls down his pants. his cock was disgustingly hard, dripping with precum.
he brings the panties closer to his dick, his breath already shaking at the thought. he wraps his cock around your dirty panties and just starts stroking, slow, making him groan. he remembers your sleeping face as he jerks off with your panties. the way you called his name several times today. the way your body touched his on numerous occasions. and the way the wet clothes clinged on your body in the pool.
he couldn't hold on much longer, his body completely weak when it comes to you. his breathing gets faster and silent moans escape him. he's gonna come. he's gonna come right on your panties. he bites his lip. he imagines your pussy again, your wet, warm, tight-
suddenly the door opens. "michael?"
his heart dropped straight to his stomach. he freezes for a second, then panic exploded through him. he rushes with his hands to cover his cock, your panties still wrapped around it. the embarassment was too much. his heart beating like as if he just ran a marathon.
you stood frozen in the doorway as you try to understand the situation. "what the fuck are you doing?" you say almost in disgust, taking in the scene before your eyes.
"i- i can explain- " his voice cracked so badly he barely recognized it.
your eyebrows arch in confusion, "wait. are those my panties?"
michael immediately looked away. the silence was answer enough.
"michael." your voice sharpened "are those my fucking panties around your dick?"
"i–" he couldn't even form a sentence.
you step closer. "michael, i swear if those are mine..."
"they're not..." he mumbled weakly. the lie was pathetic. neither of you believed it.
"move your hands."
his head snapped. "w-what?"
"move your hands."
he shook his head immediately.
"michael." your tone left no room for argument "move your fucking hands right now before i move them myself."
still nothing.
his breathing had become visibly shaky. you weren't having it. before he could stop you, you grabbed his wrists and pulled his hands away.
"wait-" michael yelps but he was too late. the embarrassment hit him all at once. he wished the floor would swallow him whole as his whole dick was out on display.
your eyes widen for a second. his size startles you - you definitely didn't expect him to be this big and thick.
but then you see it. the familiar color. it IS your panties around his big cock. you look up at him slowly, in anger.
"i can explain-" before he can continue, you grab your panties from the bottom of his dick and start pulling them up.
michael twitches at the contact of your hand, moan escaping him as the panties slid from the bottom up. you grab your panties. he cursed at his body in his head for reacting so much in this humiliating situation.
"you're such a pervert, you know that?"
michael couldn't even argue that.
you look at your now ruined panties. michael's just breathing hard and shaky. his hard cock still not softening, not at all. it's almost like he enjoys you being disgusted by him, humiliating him, treating him this way.
"im sorry" he says in a shaky voice. you can't help but get wet at the state of him. he looks absolutely pathetic right now. and the way he said sorry, it was like music to your ears.
"are you really?" this just being an excuse to hear him say it again.
"yes- i promise- im really, really sorry" he repeated himself in the same shaky breaths.
"god this is so embarassing" he says quietly under his breath.
"you did this to yourself, michael, if you weren't such a pervert you wouldn't be in this situation right now, would you?"
he's silent.
"would you?" you raise your voice a bit
he nods his head immediaty "yes- yes you're right." he spits out fast. he gulps. even you treating him like this was making him throb.
michael stared at the floor. his face burned. his heart wouldn't slow down.
"just because you're famous doesn't mean you get to do whatever you want without any consquences."
his gaze stayed fixed somewhere away from you. he couldn't bring himself to meet your eyes. he was far too nervous. far too embarrassed. far too aroused.
"and look at me while im talking to you, that's the least you can do."
he obeys immediately. "yes- im sorry."
"if you're really sorry, then explain to me right now, how exactly my panties ended up here."
his heart was beating incredibly fast. yet still, his cock was rock hard
"i... um..." the words wouldn't come out.
"you what?" you pressed, "spit it out." you weren't letting him avoid the question. not this time. deep down, though, there was something satisfying about seeing him so flustered, so completely at your mercy. it was making you seriously wet.
"i–" before he can continue you grab his cock.
"yeah? continue?" his breath hitched. you were acting as if nothing was happening. gripping his cock in your hand, you slowly couldn't even wrap your whole hand around it which was making you absolutely drenched.
michael's breath was incredibly shaky - both from the nervousness and arousal. god, if you touch him like that, he surely won't last long. not beneath your touch.
he tries clearing his throat so at least he wouldn't sound so pathetic.
"i-i just grabbed them. when i was in your room." his breathing heavy - still sounding pathetic.
"so you just grabbed them? like this?" you grab his cock with more strength now, making him shift as he's sitting down. desperate little noises coming out of him.
"answer me." gripping his cock even more.
he instantly nods his head furiously with that pathetic expression on his face "mhm y-yeah, like that." his voice came out strained.
"and then what?" you stare at his face while biting your lip. you could just fuck him right then and there.
"and then-" his throat tightened, "i sniffed them," the confession came out barely a whisper. he forced himself to continue "on your bed." for a moment, the room falls silent.
you look at him with absolute disgust. yet, somehow, you found it incredibly arousing how gross and perverted he was.
"you dirty-" you gave him a firm stroke, and his body reacted instantly. a helpless moan escaped him, "dirty, dirty boy." each word was punctuated by another deliberate stroke, making it impossible for michael to hide his reactions. his hips lifted instinctively, desperately chasing more contact. "i-im sorry." he stammered.
you slowly dragged your hand from the base all the way to the tip before abruptly pulling away. michael let out a shaky breath. almost disappointed by the loss of your touch.
"i'm really upset with you, michael." as you spoke, you began taking off your pants. michael's breathing immediately grew heavier, his heartbeat thundered in his ears. "w-what are you—"
with your pants now discarded (your oversized tshirt covering you just enough) you cut him off. "since you wanted to be such a pervert and steal your friend's underwear without permission so badly..." you hooked your fingers into your underwear. "...here. have it all."
his eyes widened. you held the garment in your hand for only a moment before shoving it into his mouth before he could protest. "choke on it."
his response came out as muffled whines. the fabric filled his mouth completely. then you pressed your palm over it. "that enough for you now?"
his dick jumping with joy as all he can taste is you. your underwear still warm, he can feel the wetness on them clearly. and now that he knows you're also turned on, it only makes him that much more crazy. he can't believe he has your freshly worn panties in his mouth, the same panties that were sticking to your pussy a second ago. he couldn't be harder, hornier.
without warning, you grabbed him again and started moving your hand with no mercy whatsoever. "that how you masturbated just now?" the only response you got was a string of muffled sounds.
you notice the look on his eyes when he looks up at you. he looks so desperate, so pathetic, like he was pleading for you, for your touch. like he was completely dependent on your touch. you've never seen this kind of look on him, but now that you, it only makes your insides throb more.
you hadn't even done much, and already his hand was reaching toward yours, as if he couldn't help himself.
the look on his eyes starts looking dangerous, almost scared. he grabs your wrist to stop your moving hand.
"who said you could do that?" you say as you let your palm let go off his mouth and taking your panties, damp from his saliva, out of his mouth.
michael immediately sucked in a deep breath. he looked completely wrecked.
"i-i'm sorry," he blurted out quickly. "i was gonna... you know." he was still trying to catch his breath.
"you were gonna what?"
his face somehow became even redder. "y-you know..." he swallowed hard. "i was close."
you stared at him for a moment.
then a smirk appeared on your face. "you're such a pervert, yet you can't even say the word 'cum'?" heat instantly rushed to michael's face. the embarrassment was almost unbearable.
"so, you don't want to cum, is what you're saying?"
"n-no. of course i do." michael swallowed. "just maybe not... in front of you."
"aww, are you shy?" you reached over and patted his head mockingly. "where was all this shyness when you were jerking off in my house with the panties you stole?"
michael visibly winced. "i'm sorry. it won't happen again."
"obviously not," you said with a small laugh. then you tilted your head. "you really like my panties that much? why?"
michael's face turned even redder. "it's just... um..." he hesitated. "the fact that they were yours."
you raised an eyebrow. "so really you just wanted to get as close as you could get to my pussy."
michael nods shyly.
"alright then." you say as you get on the bed. "show me how badly you want it." you spread your legs. michael lets out a shaky breath as he sees your pussy. his breath immediately caught in his throat. the invitation alone was enough to make his heart nearly stop. he feels shy just staring but he can't help it. it looked even better than he'd ever imagined and his dick throbbed hard at the view.
"c-can i?" the question escaped before he could stop himself. it was obvious how badly he wanted permission.
"do you want to?" you smirked. "
"i-" his voice faltered. "yes, please." the answer came out embarrassingly fast
you weren't satisfied. "i wanna hear you beg for it more."
michael's face somehow managed to grow even redder. but there was no way he was letting this opportunity slip away.
"please?" he looked away.
"pretty please?"
still not enough.
"please what?" you asked. "what exactly do you want?"
michael gulped. saying it out loud felt impossible. his embarrassment was practically eating him alive.
yet his desire outweighed his pride.
"p-please...can i lick your pussy?" he was embarassed beyond belief as he said it, but again there was no way he was gonna miss this chance. "can i, please?" the vulnerability in his voice was impossible to miss.
you stared at him for a moment before finally relenting. "go ahead."
his eyes lit up. slowly, almost reverently, he moved closer. his hands settled carefully on your thighs.
for a moment, he simply stared. like he couldn't believe this was actually happening. like he was afraid it would disappear if he blinked. the admiration on his face for your pussy was almost ridiculous. his breathing had become completely uneven. you could feel the warmth of it against your skin.
he looked closely, completely captivated by it. the way he was staring at your pussy - like it was the best thing he'd ever seen - was making you even more wet.
without thinking clearly he gets close to your and just sniffs. he moans at the smell, absolutely overwhelming him as his dick twitches hard.
then he gives it a small lick. fuck. he could cum just from the taste alone.
the sudden contact drew a small sound from you. that tiny reaction was all the encouragement he needed. immediately, his confidence grew. he started to really eat you out now. devouring you as if you were his last meal, like he'd been starving. he became more focused, more determined, completely absorbed in you and your reactions - which just made his dick throb with need every time.
you gripped the sheets beneath you as another sound escaped your lips. every reaction seemed to fuel him further, making him moan and hum against your clit, the vibration of his voice only increasing your pleasure.
"michael..." you breathed his name as your fingers tangled in his hair. your grip tightened instinctively. your hips unconsciously sought him out, needing more.
hearing his name like that on your lips affected him more than it should've. his entire body reacted. he was getting off from eating you out without even touching himself. the sound of your voice. the feeling of your hand in his hair. the realization that he was the one making you feel this way. it all went straight to his head - and his dick.
the room seemed to fade away around both of you. all that remained was the growing tension between you.
you could feel yourself getting closer. and so could michael.
for him, the sensation of finally having your pussy in his face, the one he's been fantisizing about all this time, was almost as pleasuring to him as if he was actually touching himself.
his thoughts were a complete mess. his heart was racing. his breathing had become uneven. his dick was throbbing like crazy.
you tightened your grip in his hair again to guide him closer.
seeing how eager you were and the way you just pushed his face inbetween your thighs only made him moan more. the vibration of a sound he made against your clit sent a powerful shiver through your entire body. that did it. the tension snapped and you came.
pleasure rushed through you all at once, overwhelming every other thought. you held onto him as you came, your entire body trembling with the intensity of it.
it felt incredible. meanwhile, michael could hardly believe what he was witnessing. seeing you cumming as he's basically drowning in your juices, your pussy throbbing right in his face. feeling the way your body responded. knowing he was the reason for it.
the sight completely overwhelmed him and sent him over the edge. feeling intense pleasure and throbbing on his dick, his breath caught and he moaned. before he knew it, he was cumming as well. pathetically, desperately humping once again on the bed.
you both just stayed there for a moment, catching your breath. "michael, that was incredible," you said, still trying to catch your breath. a shy smile tugged at his lips. "you..." he hesitated, face flushing. "you taste so good."
————————————————————————
eventually, the two of you sat up. that's when your eyes landed on the damp spot on the bed. you blinked. "wait..." a realization slowly dawned on you.
"did you just...cum?" michael immediately looked away. "um... yeah." his embarrassment was obvious. "i'm sorry. i couldn't hold it."
for a moment, you stared at the stain. then another memory clicked into place. your eyes widened. "hold on."
michael visibly tensed. "the spot that was on my bed earlier."
a pause.
"when you were in my room."
his face immediately turned red.
your expression shifted. "was that your cum, too?"
michael groaned quietly.
"oh my god..." you say, "michael."
his shoulders sank. "yes."
you couldn't believe it. you shook your head. "did you seriously cum because of my panties?"
michael looked like he wanted the floor to swallow him whole. "um..."
"michael." you warned him.
"yes." his answer was barely audible.
you stared at him. he stared at the floor.
"you are unbelievable."
"i know."
"and such a pervert."
"i know."
he sounded genuinely ashamed.
the problem was that instead of being disgusted, something about the whole situation was having the opposite effect on you. the way he'd been so hopelessly obsessed. the way he'd completely lost his composure around you. the way he kept apologizing. you hated how much you liked it and how much it was making you wet.
before michael could process what was happening, you moved on top of him.
————————————————————————
"you're a pervert," you said firmly. his eyes immediately flicked up to yours."apologize." you say as you grip his dick, teasing him with your entrance.
michael's face grew even redder. the way you kept calling him out should have made him want to disappear. instead, it only seemed to make him more aroused.
"i'm-" before he can finish you grab his cock with your hands, teasing him with your entrance.
"im sorry-" right when he said it, you push his cock all the way inside you. making both you and him moan. your walls clench desperately around his thick cock. he was filling you just right, hitting just the right spot deep inside you.
he's whimpering as the sensation is too much, he's never felt anything this pleasuring. his hips are shifting by themselves. "y/n..."
"you're sorry for what?"
"im sorry for being a pervert-" the words came out shaky and embarrassed. you thrust hard, making him moan like a girl. his dick hitting all the right spots inside you. "fuck michael...you're so big" then you start thrusting in rythm, slowly.
michael was an absolute mess. the pleasure had completely overwhelmed him by now, making him forget all about being shy. he was moaning, whimpering, trembling, all of it - completely unable to keep himself under control.
you grabbed his hands and guided them to your chest, making him hold you while you continued. "oh my god..." michael moaned out.
"y/n im gonna- again-" he yelps out. that was fast, you think to yourself. suddenly you stop thrusting. a desperate sound escaped him immediately. his hips instinctively lifted, chasing the sensation he'd just lost. "w-wait why did you-"
not even letting him finish, you start thrusting again, the rest of his sentence dissolved into another moan. you keep on thrusting. as michaels breathing hard and moaning, though he's trying to hold his voice back (and failing). his hands found your hips again, holding on tightly.
"y/n im gonna cu-" he tries to say with the most desperate voice you've heard tonight.
you stopped again. a drawn-out whine left him. "please.." he breathed, "please, don't stop. please." he looks like he's just about to cry with how much he wanted it, his body reacting on its own as he struggled to stay still.
you bite your lip. "okay then, if you keep saying sorry then i wont stop."
the determination that appeared in his eyes was almost immediate. he would've agreed to absolutely anything for you. "okay- yes. absolutely. i-i will" he swallowed hard, completely out of breath. then he took a shaky breath. "i-im sorry." you give him one hard thrust. his entire body reacted. "keep going" you say.
"im sorry" you thrust again. michaels just a moaning, whimpering mess at this point.
"im sorry...im sorry-" with every apology, you continued, making it harder and harder for him to speak coherently.
still, he forced himself to continue. over and over, like a broken record. like it was the only thing he could think about. tears began gathering at the corners of his eyes from how overwhelming everything felt. his words blurred together. apologies mixed with breathless sounds as he stumbled over every sentence.
then you kiss him. the kiss was messy and completely sloppy, yet somehow more intense because of it.
your pussy is clenching for its life around michaels huge dick. you can feel the build up, the pleasure overwhelming you. you're close. and so is michael apparently with how hard he's gripping your hips.
"y/n-" he tried to say something. but the moment the words left his mouth, you silenced him with another deep kiss.
you kept moving, unable to stop as you chased the overwhelming pleasure building between you. neither of you could think straight anymore. the tension had been building for what felt like forever, and now it was finally reaching its peak.
then, with one particularly hard thrust, it hit you. your entire body shook. a wave of pleasure crashed through you so suddenly that it stole the breath from your lungs. every muscle tensed as your body spasmed uncontrollably.
the sensation seemed to push michael over the edge too. the moment he felt your reaction, he completely lost what little composure he had left. a desperate moan escaped him as he followed right behind you. you feel his cock throb as he cums inside you.
for several seconds, neither of you could do anything except cling to each other while the aftershocks rolled through your bodies. both of you were trembling. shaking. trying to process the intensity of what had just happened.
eventually, you broke the kiss. the two of you stayed there for a moment, breathing hard as you struggled to catch your breath.
michael looked completely overwhelmed. his face was flushed, his breathing uneven, and he still looked like he couldn't quite believe any of this had actually happened.
"thank you," he breathed. then he said it again. and again. the words came out in that same desperate, breathless voice, as though he couldn't think of anything else to say.
im lana, and this is my mj side blog. i have been a fan since the early 00s but am relatively new to writing self insert -- coming from a bg of third person writing style on ao3.
im 26, a gemini sun and pisces moon (just like michael hehe)
and am full of emotions and wonder!! i love to write so this is a safe space for any and all lil requests u may have
I hope u enjoy my lil slice of heaven on here
follows or interactions will come from my mainblog @saturnzbars
focus on me - off the wall era mj x photographer reader! (fluff, atmospheric)
Dial Tone - thriller era mj x hot shot producer daughter (18+, smut, Phone sex)
Dare to Thrill me - pt 2 of dial tone series, (18+ smut)
Hungry Eyes - pt 3 of dial tone series (18+ smut)
heat wave - thriller era mj x childhood best friend reader who owns a cute record store in NYC (18+ smut)
Desire, Interrupted - dangerous/history era mj x broadway actress reader (18+ smut)
Desire, Reclaimed - pt 2 of desire interrupted
working overtime - thrad (thriller x bad era) MJ x musician reader (18+ smut)
FULFILLED REQUESTS
Pipe dream - bad era mj x manager's daughter reader, secret relationship (18+ smut)
˙⋆✮Telling dangerous era!Michael how pretty he is while you ride him… 18+ mdni
He gets all flustered, not because of the way you’re grinding against him— his dick deep inside of you while your hips move sinfully over his. No. He’s all worked up because you keep telling him how pretty he is. “Oh Mikey, look at you.” while you’re gliding back and forth, a slick mess pooling between your bodies. “God- you’re so pretty baby.” as you bury him even deeper. He’s squirming. Submitting to your sweet whispers, with heavy eyelids, and his hands pulling at your hips. Little moans and whines of satisfaction seep from his chest as he listens to your praises purr from above. Letting out a quiet little “thank you,” as he watches where your bodies connect, with sweaty curls clinging to his forehead and his head falling back into the pillows.
This is part 3 of Dial Tone -- Read first part here and 2nd part here
Pairing: Michael Jackson x Fem!reader
Summary: When Michael Jackson shows up at your Hollywood apartment unannounced after 9 months of you ignoring him, with a hungry look in his eyes, you open the damn door.
Or you and Michael break up due to your differences, and his looming tour world tour with his brothers. he ends up trying to reach you via phone call in each city of his tour. You are stubborn as hell, and he has prayer and willpower on his side.
happy bday to @ningizuo :)
Playlist: you can listen to some of the vibes here
Tags: Thriller! Michael (thriller/Victory Tour era) first time, michael loses his virginity, smut, break up, angst, time jump, sub! michael (sort of idk anymore guys), unresolved sexual tension, mutual pining, struggle with religion and sex, michael shows up like an animal in the end, looking for sumn sexy lol
Word Count: 9896
Author’s Note: this was quite literally requested by about 30 people so here you all go! i wanted michael to go away and sort of grow up on the victory tour, which i think ... he really came into himself during this time. i hope its ok for y'all. i can't wait to get back to writing standalone fics lmao
pls let me know if u enjoyed
18+ minors dnu!!
You and Michael had been seeing each other religiously for the last six months. Secret meetings at Hayvenhurst, late night drives in your old Mustang, sneaking into the movie theatre really late at night to see films he recommended. It was some of the best times you'd had in your adult life.
You were totally entranced by his childlike energy, his ability to find the best elements in the precarious situation fame had handed him, and the fact that underneath all of it he was still just a very good person.
He shared with you in private moments the work he did with children's hospitals, the fans he'd stay up late chatting to on his landline. This was no normal celebrity.
Michael wasn't even like any other young man in his early twenties. He was totally fascinated by learning, the human psyche, studying the greats so he could be better himself. He truly was one of a kind, who just so happened to have an absolutely angelic voice and an ability within music that you couldn't fully articulate even after spending weeks inside his world.
Even when he wasn't around, you felt your thoughts drifting to him. What he was doing, what he was wearing, what he was thinking about. His way of life was so engaging you could listen to him talk about it for hours.
Michael was a creature of insane habit. He liked to do things in routine, so usually you'd meet him at his family home. This became cumbersome because Michael was intensely shy and wasn't ready to let his family see the true nature of what was between you. This hadn't bothered you at first, when you realised the chemistry you shared was fundamental and whole. He had not labelled your relationship despite being a hopeless romantic — he'd written you songs, used your giggle in a demo he was working on in the studio with Quincy. He told you he had blushed furiously when he played it for the entirety of the executive suite at Epic Records. Including your dad.
.✦ ݁˖
It was a Saturday mid morning in October, the sun streaming in through the windows, illuminating the dust particles in the air. It looked like glitter. A dream world you were living in. A perfect domestic reality you didn't even know could exist.
Michael was over in your apartment for the first time. You were pleased Dana wasn't home so that he didn't get spooked. He seemed oddly comfortable in your space for someone who liked being home so much, with his gadgets and his animals.
You heard him go quiet behind you where you were sitting in the living room. It meant Michael had found something that had totally entranced him, and when you glanced back from the couch he was crouched in front of your shelves with a stillness he normally didn't have. Michael was someone who could not simply sit still. He'd be drumming his fingers on surfaces, playing with the hem of his shirt sleeves, fixing his hat or his hair. He also had a constant stream of vocal stims that would play on a loop out of his mouth. It was the most endearing feature about him.
His fingers moved carefully along the spines of your extensive vinyl collection with the same devout attention he gave to everything in his life.
"You have the first Queen LP," he said, without looking up.
"Mmm, I do? I'm not sure what I have anymore, there are so many."
"And Earth, Wind and Fire's new album." He pulled it out, turned it over, put it back. "How did you get this?"
"Dana and I queued at four in the morning at the local record store. There's a leaflet in there that they signed."
He made a delighted sound, despite knowing those guys personally, he still found it cool. He kept moving along the shelf.
You padded through to the kitchen to make some late breakfast. You had been up late studying for your final nursing examination.
The kitchen was small enough that you could have the whole apartment in your peripheral vision, which meant you could track him without watching him — the way he moved from the records to your bookshelf, his head tilting at the nursing textbooks stacked sideways on top of the other books because you'd run out of vertical space, the way he picked one up and looked at it with the expression of someone confronting a language they couldn't read.
"How are the exams going so far?" he asked, his voice airy and contented.
"Horrifying, if I'm honest." You laughed, pouring pancake mix onto the pan.
"You'll be fine."
"You don't know that."
"I know you." He put the textbook back carefully, in the exact position he'd found it. "You'll be fine, smartie pants."
Outside the weather was perfect. Still sort of warm for LA in the fall, the October light doing that thing it does in the late morning, golden and unhurried. You'd had the window cracked and the radio on low when he arrived, Prince's Around The World In A Day playing itself out to the empty room.
Michael had once told you that a day was never a day of purpose when music wasn't played freely in every room he walked into. It quieted his mind, he said, and you had minded this for his arrival.
"Do you like the new Prince song?" you asked.
He considered this with a seriousness that made his brow furrow slightly. "I think he's doing the most interesting thing on the radio right now." A pause. "Don't tell anyone I said that."
"Who am I going to tell?"
"My brothers. Jermaine already thinks I have an inferiority complex."
"Do you?"
"No." He came and leaned in the kitchen doorway, arms folded, watching you work the pan. "I just have a very accurate understanding of what everyone else is doing and how I am going to compete."
You turned the pancake. It came out perfectly, which felt like a minor miracle given that you'd been making them with one eye on him for the last while.
"Stevie Wonder's new stuff," you said. "What do you think?"
He came off the doorframe immediately, animated in the way he only got about music and a handful of other things. "In Square Circle is — yes. Everything about it. The production, the way he's layering the synths underneath—" He stopped himself, looked at you, and started again with slightly less velocity. "It's generous music. It sounds like someone who wants the listener to feel something specific and has thought very carefully about how to get them there."
"That's a really nice way to put it."
"It's a true way to put it. Stevie is a great musician. One of a kind, and actually a very close personal friend." He came and stood beside you at the stove, close enough that you could feel the warmth of him. He looked at the pancakes with focused optimism. "Are those nearly done?"
"Not yet. I have three more left to make. Stop pressuring me, you doofus."
"It's fine. You look sweet enough to eat as a starter anyway." He giggled, then stood behind you, pulled your hair to the side away from your neck and peppered light kisses there.
You kept your eyes on the pan, trying to concentrate. His touch was always so delicate with you in this way.
The radio had moved on to Sade now, The Sweetest Taboo unspooling through the apartment, making this tiny moment between you both in your small WeHo apartment feel like it should be in a film.
You thought about how strange it was to be here with Michael standing at your elbow waiting for pancakes, and how completely normal it had started to feel. Like every day was a certainty. Like he'd always be there. It had started to feel domestic, which was its own kind of strangeness, considering he still had not put a label on what you were.
This upset you, if you were being honest with yourself. But you were taking anything you could get, as you knew this was not bound to last. You didn’t want to get married young, and Michael seemed the type to want this before anything intimate could be pursued. You truly didn’t think this was the path you wanted to follow down.
You shook the thought from your head, willing to let it go for now; as this moment was too perfect and because you were kind of, sort of, unofficially, absolutely smitten with this graceful boy, despite all of the challenges.
.✦ ݁˖
You ate at the kitchen table, which was really a desk you'd pushed against the wall and given a second purpose, Michael with his knees at an angle because the chairs were slightly too low for him. He looked like an adult sitting at a kids school desk. It made you feel warm inside, at how sweet he was.
He ate like he'd never eaten food in his life. He really loved sweet things. You had struggled to make him eat anything savoury you’d made before. He'd always say he didn't really like food much.
You'd made them with blueberries because you'd quite literally only had blueberries, milk and a few eggs in the fridge. Dana was bound to bring groceries back on her way home.
He'd looked at the plate when you set it down with genuine gratitude that you were almost certain was partly because it was a safe food for him. No questions asked, and you had known to make it for him.
"Marvin Gaye," you said, picking up the earlier conversation.
"What about him?"
"It's a shame he died. What did you think of his music? I know you were around him during the Motown days."
Michael was quiet for a moment, taking the question seriously rather than reaching for an easy and shallow answer.
"He understood that the body and the spirit are not opposites," he said finally. "Most people treat them like opposing arguments. He treated them like the same conversation."
You looked at him across the table, not fully following his fleshed out thought.
"That's a very specific thing to understand about the way someone makes music," you said.
"I've thought about it a lot." He cut a piece of pancake. "I think about it in the context of my own work." He looked faintly embarrassed calling it work, as he always went on about how much fun it was and how it truly wasn't something you could call a job in the traditional sense.
"How to make something that operates on both levels at once. Lovely and melodic and good for your being, but also something that hot wires your brain into making you want to feel the rhythm and start to move. A song is powerful if it can do both to you all by itself."
"Mmm."
He looked up. "I think Thriller does that as a record. It comes closer to that concept than anything I've done before." He paused. "You were there when I found the first physicality piece."
"Thriller's syncopated beats definitely made me want to dance when I heard it, but also scream, run away and completely lose myself in the instrumental at the same time."
"It's different," he said, "having someone in the room to bounce ideas off. You hear things differently from me and that's what I seek out, to see if you are feeling and doing the things I thought might happen in the songs conception."
The radio had moved on to Under Pressure by Queen and David Bowie. The apartment was very quiet apart from that.
Your pancakes had gone slightly cold. You didn't particularly care.
"Michael," you said.
"Mmhm."
"What's happening in December? With the tour?" It had gone unspoken before and you really didn’t want to end this lovely moment; but you couldn’t go on wondering where you stood.
He put his fork down. Picked it back up. Put it down again. "It starts in Kansas City. December thirtieth."
"How long for?" You tried to keep the sadness from bleeding into your tone.
"Through September. Maybe longer depending on—" He stopped. "A long time, basically."
You nodded. You'd known this. Your father had mentioned it in passing three weeks ago the way he mentioned most things about Michael, with the causality of someone who worked famous people and creatives to the bone.
The Victory Tour's going to be enormous, he'd said over Sunday dinner, and you'd said good and passed the bread and thought about how this could make or break the undefined thing you had with his client.
That had been before the last time you had been intimate with Michael. He was very held back and reserved when it came to talking about it afterward. Entranced by physical acts but simultaneously repulsed by what they meant in the context of his faith. It was a conundrum. You knew men around his age who were engaging in these acts and still attending church without placing as much emotional strain on their relationship to religion. His music was so sensual in its translation, both in melody and in lyric. Michael was a walking equation you couldn't fully solve.
"I want to talk to you about something," Michael said, abruptly.
You looked up at him. His hands were flat on the table, on either side of his plate, and he was looking at them with the expression he wore when he was about to say something he'd been composing in his head for a while.
"Okay," you said.
.✦ ݁˖
He said it all carefully. With grace. That was the thing you'd remember forever, the care of it, the way each word arrived with gentleness, like he'd rehearsed not the lines themselves but the intention behind them.
He said he wanted to be with you.
Not like how it usually was. The sultry flirty phone calls and the sneaking around being silly and occasionally dirty. He was finally putting a label on the careful unnamed thing that had transpired between you. He wanted you to be his and he wanted to be wholly yours in every way he could show up for, and he understood, he said, what he was asking of you, what it meant, what it would require of him in terms of fame, in terms of what people would say, in terms of what he could and couldn't offer physically because of his faith.
He stressed it all, almost pleading, he wanted the midnight phone calls. He wanted the domestic pleasure. He wanted to introduce you properly, the way he hadn't been able to at home because of his shyness and the public eye. He wanted the real version of a relationship, not some thwarted version fame had handed him.
He looked up.
"I want to stop being scared of what it costs," he said. "Of what people will say. I want to try with you, if you'd allow yourself to be in the spotlight with me."
The apartment was very quiet. Out of Touch by Daryl Hall and John Oates simmered in the background.
You looked at him across the table, at his hands flat on the surface, at his face doing that completely unguarded innocent contortion where his eyebrows were raised high and his lip pulled between his perfect white teeth. you felt the full weight of what he was offering and what he was asking and how genuinely, entirely he meant both. The song playing in the background was building the tension higher.
"Michael," you said, and your voice came out harsher than you intended.
"I know it's not — I know it isn't what most people—" he stuttered.
"Can I just have a moment to explain something?" You replied, trying to soften your tone.
He stopped. Nodded politely.
You chose your words the same way he had, carefully, because he deserved that.
"I think you are one of the most emotionally intelligent people I have ever known," you said. "I mean that without reservation. The way you understand people, the way you listen." You paused. "And I think your faith is beautiful, and it is… yours. It's not something I would ever want you to compromise or feel ashamed of. I want you to be exactly who you are."
He was watching you very closely.
"But," you said.
He'd known there was a but. You could see it in the stillness that came over him, the bracing that wasn't quite a flinch.
"Sexuality isn't separate from who I am," you said. "It's not a feature I can turn off while everything else runs. It's part of how I connect with people. It's part of how I understand whether two people make sense together." You looked at your hands, then back at him. "I can't go blindly into something without knowing if we're compatible in that way. Not because I'm not willing to be patient, or because I don't care about you deeply, but because it matters to me. It's really important to understand. About who two people are to each other."
Michael was quiet for a long time. His brown eyes shone in the low afternoon light, the sunbeams brightening the warm chocolate brown of his irises.
"I don't understand that," he said finally. It wasn’t entirely defensively., but you could tell he was slightly agitated. Trying to find the right thing to say to you but just couldn’t .
Michael had the lost look of someone confronting a framework they'd never been given the tools to think about.
"For me it's the other parts that are the real parts. The way two people talk to each other. The way they—" He stopped. "I thought those were the things that told you if you were meant for each other."
"They are things that tell you," you said. "They're not the only things."
He looked at the table. At his plate, the pancakes mostly eaten, the blueberries gone. His jaw moved slightly, he was processing something he hadn't expected to have to process in an otherwise perfect day.
"I don't know how to—" He stopped. "I don't know how to want something the way you're describing."
"I know." You reached across the table and put your hand over his, briefly. "That's not a criticism. It's just true."
He turned his hand under yours and held it for a moment, then let go, and sat back, and looked out the window at the Hollywood afternoon going gold outside.
"I've really—" He stopped. Started again. "Over the last month and a half. I've really fallen—" He pressed his lips together. "You're the most peculiar and beautiful person I've ever known. I want you to know I mean that. Whatever happens. I will think about you every day when I leave."
"I know you mean it."
"And I—" His voice was very quiet now, quieter than the radio, quieter than the street outside. "I love God. I love my faith. I don't know how to be someone who puts that aside yet and I don't think that right now, I should have to push it or force it. But I also don't—" He exhaled. "I don't want to ask you to be someone who puts aside the things that matter to you. That wouldn't be right. Maybe this just won’t work as much as I want it too. I need time. A lot of it."
You looked at him. At the deep blue of his plaid shirt, the same one he'd worn to a secret movie date. You hated that it was coming to this, but it was unfortunately something you'd known was going to happen since the night you picked up your phone and dialled him. You knew how he was, his image, and now his personal inner workings. Your heartbreak in this one was all your own fault.
"You should go on tour, Michael," you said. "And be faithful to what you believe. And be extraordinary, because you will be, because you can't help it." You paused. "And I know you'll fall in love with someone amazing and have a fulfilled life. You are a deeply thoughtful person and I just know that is in your future."
He looked at you for a long time, with a slight panic but a strange calmness underneath it.
Then he stood up, picked up his jacket from the back of the chair, came around the table and stood in front of you and bent down and pressed a kiss to the top of your head, very gently, the way you might kiss something you were afraid of breaking.
It killed you that he never said goodbye out loud so you could too and try get some form of physical closure.
You sat at the kitchen table for a while after the door closed, your hand where his had been, Every Breath You Take by The Police on the radio, the afternoon going quietly dark outside the window.
.✦ ݁˖
The tour started in Kansas City on the thirtieth of December and by the second week of January it had become clear that the world had decided the Victory Tour was going to be the an event that stopped traffic in every city it touched. It was remarkably successful and despite your happiness for Michael and his brothers, it did become tiresome seeing it advertised; a reminder of Michael leaving your life.
Your father called you from his office the morning after the first show, not to talk about Michael specifically but about the production, the staging, the scale of it, how he was a force of nature. You sat on your bed in your nursing scrubs, the phone off the wall and wires all through the house, and listened to him describe it and thought about how that unbelievable force of nature had sat with you eating blueberry pancakes at your kitchen table. He may as well have been a figment of your imagination at this point, you were starting to forget what it felt like to be in his light everyday. be in his gravitational pull .
You'd had to let him go completely. Left with the bones of him, his music playing in shops you walked into, a gigantic billboard of him on Sunset Boulevard, his eyes on you every time you drove past it.
You tried not to think about him constantly. That felt important to establish, if only to yourself, that you were trying. You had your exams. You had your hospital shifts, your exhausted brain after twelve hours on a ward that left no room in your head for anything that wasn't immediately in front of you. You had Dana, who had the gift of making any room she was in feel like the most exciting place to be, and who had sadly watched you eat cereal for dinner for a week running in January and said nothing about it.
She eventually picked you up out of your slump and your normalcy resumed. Parties in West Hollywood, dancing till four in the morning, working hard and taking in your youth.
You were fine. Genuinely, completely fine. You kept telling yourself you made the right decision to let him go. To not just suck it up and wait for him like he’d basically asked you to.
It was just that sometimes Every Breath You Take came on the radio and you had to turn it off, for fear that the memory of his longing eyes would burn into your psyche.
.✦ ݁˖
The first call came on a Tuesday in February.
Dana picked up. You were in the bathroom with your hair wrapped in a towel, halfway through the post-night-shift routine that required approximately forty minutes, lots of curl cream and a level of concentration that left no room for phone calls.
You and Dana had such a close relationship that you trusted her to chat briefly with your other friends or family on the phone and let them know you were busy.
You heard her voice in the hallway go through its usual casual greeting and then go very silent.
She appeared in the bathroom doorway after a moment. Her expression was doing several things at once, excitement held back, and a forlorn stare.
"It's Michael Jackson," she said, in a tone that was working very hard to be normal. "On the phone. For you."
You looked at yourself in the mirror. Towel on your head. Dark circles from the night shift. Toothbrush in your hand.
"Tell him I'm not home," you said with finality.
Dana looked at you for a moment but didn't argue, knowing the aftermath of having to let him go. Then she went back to the phone.
You stood at the bathroom mirror and listened to the muffled sound of her relaying this information and then the click of the receiver and then Dana reappearing in the doorway.
"He sounded—" She stopped dead, seeing your sullen face. "Are you okay?"
"Completely fine," you said, and went back to brushing your teeth.
The thing was, you knew you had to have made the right decision. You were only twenty-two. You didn't know if you could be a wife, if you'd ever want to commit to something without understanding whether there was real potential there. He had to just be the one that got away. You'd have more experiences that would be electric, involved and formative. Someone else could give you the excitement and level of connection that Michael did.
Right?
.✦ ݁˖
He called again on a Thursday in early March. You were studying, genuinely too engrossed to even hear the phone over The Human League blasting through your bedroom speakers.
Dana took the message. She wrote on a sticky note and stuck it on the wall:
he says he'll try again. he says he hopes the exams are going well.
You looked at it for just a moment before your brain could start processing and then went back to your textbook and read the same paragraph four times without retaining any of it.
On Friday. You were working, actually on shift.
Saturday. You were sleeping, genuinely, after a double shift. Dana told him this and you didn't feel as guilty this time. She wasn't lying to him.
The calls kept coming with a patient regularity. Michael clearly wasn't giving up on being a constant in your life. You didn't know whether to cry or laugh.
Dana started keeping a tally on the notepad on the kitchen table without comment, adding a mark each time, and by the end of April there were nine marks in a column and the notepad had been moved to the table underneath where the phone hung, where you had to look at it every time you wanted to make a call.
.✦ ݁˖
It was a Wednesday evening in early May when Dana came and sat across from you at the kitchen table while you were going through anatomy notes and said, without preamble: "He's in Las Vegas this week."
You looked up.
"The tour," she said. "I looked it up. He's at the Thomas and Mack Center. Four nights." She folded her hands on the table. "He called again today while you were at the hospital."
"Shocker."
"Y/N, this can't keep going on. You need to put this man out of his misery. He sounds so deflated when I give him an excuse."
"I know, Dana. But I can't entertain a friendship with someone like that. He might wantme but not all of me, and I am not getting wrapped up in all of that fame either without knowing everything I need to know."
She was quiet for a moment. Outside the spring in LA had produced a weird, smirry drizzle, not quite committing to rain.
"I heard something on the radio today," she said. "Coming back from the grocery store. Some late night show. They had a guest on, some comedian, one of those Vegas residency guys, talking about the tour." She paused. "He said he went to the show on Saturday. He said—" She looked at you. "He said before the show started he saw Michael Jackson standing in the wings watching the crowd come in. And as part of the interview that was being conducted, he overheard someone ask him what he was looking at and he said he was looking for someone."
The rain outside made its decision and started pouring properly.
"Dana, enough, he knows I’m not gonna show up. It’s miles away" you said.
"I'm just saying, if it was me, I would give it a shot and just hope that he isn't terrible in bed." She held her hands up a bemused smile playing on her lips.
“There's a show tomorrow night. Thursday. And he's going to call again at some point and I'm going to have to give him another excuse." She looked at you directly. "Maybe instead I tell him you can come watch the show and you can rethink things together?"
You looked at your anatomy notes to distract yourself from her valid point. Your eyes burned into the diagrams, the labeled structures, the clean logic of a body explained to itself.
It was no use though, like a movie montage you thought about the sheer delight you felt when you were around him. The cackle he'd let out when you told him a lame joke. The way he'd be so enamoured by cartoons on the television late at night, his hand stuck in a bowl of popcorn. The way he could braid your hair and sing to you before you fell asleep on him in his bedroom at Hayvenhurst. The gentle voice he had with you on the phone. The gossip he'd tattle on about into the receiver. The way he moaned in the studio when you pleasured him. The lingering touches on your waist.
"He's on tour for like six more months," you said. "I am not waiting on someone like that. It's not my kind of life. I have my job." You tried to make yourself sound sure of what you were saying. It just came out flat.
"I s'pose. But what if he is your actual person? You are astrologically compatible."
"Nothing has changed. And fuck astrology, Dana. Seriously." You started to get more and more irate, the thoughts becoming too much. You had let him slip your mind and now he was waltzing straight back in.
"You know what? You've been such a bitch for months. Tell him yourself to stop calling. This is ridiculous." Dana stood up and pushed her chair in. "Make the call. Put him out of his misery and stop being such a fucking mope." She said it with pure conviction. "He actually deserves better than you."
She went to her room. The rain came down hard outside your window and you sat at the kitchen table in stunned silence.
.✦ ݁˖
You didn't take the next call. Or the one after. But you had a feeling he wasn't going to stop. He always said that seeing is believing, and maybe he believed in the two of you in a way you hadn't allowed yourself to. You didn't understand why he even wanted you. He could have someone famous and beautiful and entirely at peace with the no sex before marriage thing.
Your exams arrived in a concentrated block in the second week of June and consumed everything in your life. three days of white-noise terror, sitting in a room full of people who all know the same information you know and hoping yours is the right arrangement of it.
Dana brought you coffee at six in the morning without being asked, as you'd silently made up. She said she understood your predicament.
You slept for eleven hours after the last exam and woke up not knowing what day it was, which felt appropriate and actually nice considering who’s memory was swirling around your head when you were awake.
.✦ ݁˖
You passed with flying colours. Your father called before you'd even seen the results yourself, which meant they'd been sent to your childhood home in the mail.
Dana took you out. A bar in Silver Lake she liked, dark and warm with good music, the kind of place where the DJ could read the minds of the people on the dancefloor.
She bought you a drink and you talked about everything except Michael, and for the first time in months you felt free, happy, and excited about the next chapter.
Your eyes landed on a man at the bar. Dark-haired, light eyes. Dana ended up making out with some ugly old guy, so you decided to distract yourself with the mysteriously good looking man looking back at you.
You talked to him for an hour. His name was Paul. When he asked you to go home with him and show him what you could do with your mouth, you apologised and said you weren't interested. The entire evening had been fine until that moment. It totally disgusted you. You didn't have it in you to entertain something like that. There honestly was only one thing you truly wanted.
That was the first time you let yourself admit in months that maybe you'd made a mistake with Michael. That really, he was one of a kind and understood you and made you happy and was just good. It was a strange gift, realising it through the filter of someone who was so entirely the opposite.
You thought about him the whole cab ride home. Wondering where he was, whether he had met prettier women, with better bandwith and patience. Whether he had stopped thinking about you.
He hadn't called for a few weeks now. He'd clearly grown tired of being lied to. A single tear rolled down your glittery face as you rode home with Dana, the bright lights of Hollywood making you feel lovesick.
Don't You Forget About Me by Simple Minds played softly in the cab.
.✦ ݁˖
The next few months were agony. You picked up extra shifts. You reorganised your vinyl collection not because it needed reorganising but because you needed something to do with your hands on a Sunday afternoon, when all your mind could go to was the feeling of Michael's hands on your waist as you danced around the studio listening to Baby Be Mine before Thriller came out.
August came in warm and certain. Los Angeles was in full summer mode, parties in the hills, the Walk of Fame crowded and alive. You felt for the first time as an adult in the exciting world you had created for yourself that you were no longer having fun.
You had a week off between rotations and didn't know what to do with the unstructured time. Dana dragged you to a farmer's market in Silverlake. You bought oranges and a plant you weren't sure you could keep alive.
You were watering the plant on the third Saturday of August when Dana knocked on your bedroom doorframe.
"He's here," she said.
You turned around.
Her expression was the one she'd had the morning she'd told you about the Vegas show, trying very hard not to push anything in a particular direction. "At the door. Downstairs. He buzzed. I saw him out of the living room window when I peeped down. I just couldn't believe it."
You put the watering can down on the windowsill.
"He looks—" Dana stopped, flustered. "He's been on tour for months," she said. "He looks like he just got off a plane and drove straight here."
You stood there with your jaw on the floor, in your Mickey Mouse pyjamas, your room a complete mess. The bag of oranges you'd bought days ago had spilled out across the floor. Your diary was open on your desk, your most inner thoughts on full display, a whole passage about how it felt to have his hand on the top of your head in the studio, the hot feel of his mouth on yours, and the abrupt coldness you felt when he left in the winter. In your own cursive, describing how you'd really fallen. And totally ruined it.
"Shit," you said.
There was a knock at the door.
Dana started jumping up and down and you just stayed there, totally transfixed by the situation.
What was he doing here? Was he here to tell you he was angry you never spoke to him? To have you sign an NDA because he'd become even more famous on this tour? Or was he here to confess his undying love again? Was this the second chance you were hoping for?
You hoped for it. You started quickly clearing the space, throwing your diary closed on the bed.
Dana ran to open the door for him. You sat on the bed, your heart doing something dramatic in your chest.
.✦ ݁˖
You heard his voice in the hallway, that airy cadence, quieter than you remembered, saying something to Dana you couldn't make out. Then footsteps. Then he was in your doorway.
He had a fedora tipped low. A crisp white shirt unbuttoned at the collar, sleeves rolled to the elbows. Leather jacket open over it. He looked older than the boy who had eaten blueberry pancakes at your kitchen table ten months ago. A bit tired. But his eyes when they found yours across the room were the same warm chocolate brown, holding months of something unresolved.
You didn't say anything. Neither did he, for a moment.
He stepped into the room. Kicked the door shut behind him. Crossed to where you were sitting on the edge of the bed and stopped in front of you, close enough that you could smell the cologne and the travel on him, and looked down at you with an expression that had stopped holding things back a long time ago.
Vulnerable, honest and almost imposing in the way he was standing in front of you, bearing himself to you.
"You ignored every single one of my calls," he said. His voice was low, not accusing. Just stating a fact he'd been living with for months.
"I needed some time, Michael."
He nodded, his jaw tightening slightly.
“It was lonely, I just wanted to… talk to you. I thought we would still be friends; that our connection was deeper than just— what it was I guess.” He said, his eyes never leaving yours. A new found confidence in his delivery. He really had grown up.
“I wanted to, I just — I was so hurt that I let myself do that to you I—“ you felt tears stinging at your eyes, and he noticed.
Instead of replying, he looked at your hand resting on the bed beside you, and when you noticed this, you just wordlessly reached out and let your fingers brush against his,
a question.
He answered it immediately, his fingers folding through yours, his grip tight in the way of someone who had been rehearsing letting go and decided against it.
"I can't believe you came here," you said.
He took a deep breath. Let it out slowly.
"I've been thinking," he said. "About us. About everything. For months." He paused. His thumb moved once across your knuckles. "The most powerful thing in life is the human mind. Your belief in yourself and prayer." He reached up with his free hand and took his fedora off, setting it on the desk behind him, and looked at you with those eyes that had been the derailment of you since the first afternoon at Hayvenhurst.
"I prayed on this for months, Y/N, and I need to be with you. I need to have you. It's what is right. It's what my heart wants."
The apartment was completely silent.
You could hear your own pulse.
You couldn't believe that after everything, after the way you'd turned him away, after months of your radio silence, he had still come back like this. Vulnerable, honest.
He’s come back to you, standing in your Mickey Mouse pyjamas and your disaster of a bedroom, bearing himself to you completely.
“Tell me," you said quietly. "tell me what you want."
A slow, grateful smile spread across his face. He stepped closer, his free hand coming up to cup your cheek, his thumb tracing the line of your jaw.
"I just want you, all of you.” he said, with intent behind the use of “all”. This was a massive turnaround.
“I want to touch you, taste you, caress you. I want to make you mine. I know now that it's what needs to happen."
You leaned into his hand. Your eyes closed for just a moment.
“I have to understand that the fiction I write about in my songs, the unfiltered attraction, the love; the sex — if it is really that addictive and can move you the way a song can”
When you opened your eyes again he was watching your face with the same attention he'd given you always: unyielding and intense.
"Then do it," you said. “Do all of the things you want to do to me”
He didn't need anything more than that. His hand slid from your cheek to the back of your neck, his fingers gentle in your hair, and he kissed you — it was so far from the precious tentative, careful exploratory kisses of before, but now it was something decided, something that had been waiting a long time to happen and he knew it.
You kissed him back, your hands finding the front of his shirt, pulling him closer, and he followed you down onto the bed with the urgency of someone who had thought about this for a very long time and wanted to get it right.
He pulled back just enough to look at you, his breath unsteady.
"Tell me what you want," he said. "Tell me how to make you feel good."
You looked up at him. At the sincerity in it, the genuine desire to learn you. "Take your time," you said. "Be patient. Do whatever feels right to you."
He nodded, his eyes never leaving yours, his hands already moving, his fingers tracing the neckline of your pyjama top, the swell of your breasts, the curve of your hips.
You took his hand, guiding it to your breast, showing him how to cup the weight of it, how to brush your nipple with his thumb, how to make you gasp with pleasure.
He was a quick learner, his touch tentative at first, then more confident, more sure, his eyes watching your face, gauging your reactions, his body tense with anticipation.
You guided his hand lower, to the hem of your bottoms, showing him to push them down, how to reveal the smooth skin of your thighs, the damp heat between your legs.
He groaned, his fingers brushing against the lace of your panties, feeling the dampness there, the evidence of your desire. He looked up at you, his eyes questioning, and you nodded, giving him the permission he needed.
He hooked his fingers into the waistband of your panties, pulling them down slowly, his eyes never leaving yours. You lifted your hips, helping him, your breath coming in short gasps, your body already pulsating with need.
He tossed the panties aside, his hands moving back to your thighs, pushing them apart, making room for himself.
He looked up at you, his eyes dark with desire and sheer longing.
"Guide me” He simply said.
You reached down, guiding his hand to the heat of you, showing him how to stroke you, how to circle your clit, how to slide your fingers inside you, making you gasp with pleasure.
He was a quick study, his touch tentative at first, then he understood, as his eyes watched your face, gauging your reactions, his body tense with anticipation.
You could feel the pleasure building inside you, your body arching up to meet his touch, your breath a staccato melody in the otherwise quiet apartment.
You could feel the tension in your muscles, the need in your belly, the heat of your skin.
He was making you feel so good.
He groaned at your reactions, his fingers moving faster, harder, his thumb circling your clit, his body tense with anticipation.
You could feel the pleasure building inside you, you were close, so close, and you could see the determination in his eyes, the raw, primal need to make you come, to give you pleasure. But you didn’t want to come yet.
You pushed him back gently, and gave him a shy smile.
He understood completely in that moment, what you wanted from him, and it seemed after all of that deliberation over the last few months he was ready to oblige. He shrugged off the leather jacket, and quickly pulled his shirt over his head, revealing his lean, thin frame. His skin was smooth, his ab muscles poking through now - he’d filled out more since you last seen him. Your eyes lowered to the dark trail of coily hair that led into his dark jeans.
He stood up and kicked his shoes off, and then pulled his jeans off quickly, to jump back into bed with you.
You just lay there in awe, at the sight of him, his hard cock now on full show; precum leaking from the tip. You wanted so desperately to take him in your mouth; but this moment was so important. It needed to be exactly right.
He sat back on his heels, his eyes roaming over your body, taking in every detail, committing it to memory. You could see the struggle in his eyes, the battle between his desire to rush, to finally take what he wanted, and his need to savor this moment, to make it last, to make it special.
He reached out, his fingers tracing the curve of your hip, the swell of your breast, the line of your jaw.
His touch was gentle, reverent, like he was worshipping you, like he’d replaced his God.
"You're beautiful," he whispered, his voice hoarse, his eyes locked with yours. "You're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."
He leaned down, his lips brushing against yours, a soft, sweet kiss that promised a lifetime of love, of learning, of pleasure. You could taste the salt of his skin, the faint tang of sweat, the underlying sweetness that was purely him. You kissed him back, your hands tangling in his hair, your body pressing against his, feeling the hard lines of his muscles, the heat of his skin, the evidence of his desire.
He pulled back, his eyes meeting yours, his expression serious, intense. "I want you," he said, his voice low, determined. "I want to be inside you, to feel you come around me, to make you mine.”
“Are you sure you want this, Michael? Is it truly right for you in this moment?” You asked shyly, feeling really exposed literally and figuratively in this moment.
"I'm sure," He whispered, his voice firm. "I'm ready now. I want this, I want you. I want to be yours, completely, utterly, irrevocably."
He let out a shuddering breath, his eyes closing for a moment, his body relaxing, bracing himself for this moment. The tension eased from his shoulders.
When he opened his eyes again, you could see the the desire, the love he had for you. The same look he gave you in the kitchen after that sordid conversation.
He reached for you, his hands cupping your hips, lifting you, positioning you.
You could feel the head of him pressing against you, could feel the heat of him, the hardness, the promise of pleasure.
You looked up at him, your eyes locked with his, your heart pounding in your chest.
He used his hand to guide the tip of his cock up and down your folds, and he let out a small choked sound of pleasure. The heat of him and the pressure was driving you insane.
He looked at you, so intensely and then he pushed forward gently.
He groaned, his hips moving forward, sliding inside you, filling you, stretching you. You gasped, your body arching up to meet his because you couldn’t help it, your fingers digged into his shoulders, your eyes locked with his. You always needed this, from the moment you laid eyes on him.
You could see the wonder in his eyes, the gratitude was radiating from him.
You could feel the tension in his body, the struggle to hold back, to go slow, to make this last.
"You feel... incredible," he whispered, his voice hoarse, his eyes never leaving yours. "You're so tight, so hot, so perfect. I never... I never knew it could feel like this."
You let him feel out his rhythm, every time he pushed into you, he would hit your soft centre, sending the craziest signals of pleasure straight to your brain. It was like a drug - you wanted to feel him deeper, and wanted him closer. He was concentrating on your face, occasionally whining with how good you felt.
You pushed gently at his chest, encouraging him to roll onto his back.
He complied, his eyes curious and eager, his body still trembling with nerves and what seemed like excitement.
"You okay?" he asked, his voice soft and concerned, even as his body betrayed his eagerness for more.
You smiled, your fingers tracing the lines of his chest, his abs, his hips. "I'm more than okay," you replied.
"I want to show you a different position, if you're up for it."
He grinned, his eyes lighting up with excitement and anticipation. "Show me," he said, his voice low and hungry.
You climbed on top of him, straddling his hips, your eyes never leaving his. You could feel the hard length of him slide up against your ass. He was so big. You’d thought it before, that it was definitely in proportion to his dominant, and large hands. You had always admired them when he spoke with them. Your mind always found its way to imagining what was in his pants. Now you didn’t have to think of what it felt like. You were getting to know how it made you feel.
He was already eager for more. You reached down, guiding him inside you, your body adjusting to his size, your muscles clenching around him. He groaned, his hips bucking up to meet yours, his fingers digging into your thighs.
"God," he gasped, his eyes wide with surprise and pleasure. "That feels... that feels incredible."
You smiled, your hands moving to his chest, your fingers tracing circles on his skin. "It's about to feel even better," you promised, your voice low and sultry. "Just relax and let me do the work."
He nodded, his eyes never leaving yours, his body tense with anticipation. His curly hair was fanned out on the pillow, and even though this was the most compromised you’d seen him; he was still startling beautiful and quite innocent looking.
You started to move, your hips rolling in a slow, steady rhythm, your body sliding up and down his length, your muscles clenching around him tightly.
You could feel the pleasure building inside you as he filled you up, each time you bounced up and down on him.
Your body was selfishly aching for release, but you were determined to make this about him, to show him what he could feel, what you could do to him.
You leaned forward, your hands braced on his chest, your body changing the angle of penetration. You could feel him deeper inside you now, his head rubbing against that sweet spot with each movement.
He groaned, now starting to push himself up into you; erratic and desperate to be deeper inside of you. To be closer.
"That's it, baby," you whispered, your voice low and encouraging. "Feels good, doesn't it?"
"Y-yes — fu—ck," he gasped, his eyes wide with pleasure and surprise. "Don’t stop. Don’t sto– oh my god I think I am going to come."
You smiled, your body moving faster now, your hips rolling in a steady rhythm, your muscles clenching around him, drawing him deeper, milking him, showing him what he could feel, what you could do to him.
You could see the pleasure building in his eyes, the tension in his body increasing, the raw, primal need to come, to release, to find his pleasure.
"Come for me, Michael," you whispered, your voice low, your eyes locked with his.
"Come for me, and show me what I do to you."
His body responded to your command, his hips slamming up to meet yours, his body tensed completely, and then started to convulse. You could feel the heat of him inside you, the hard length of him, his body finally finding its release.
his eyes had never left yours, his body shuddering with the force of his orgasm. He didn’t even make noise, his orgasm was so powerful. So all encompassing.
Seeing this made you follow him over the edge, as you ground against him, his cock still deep inside of you
"God, baby," he gasped, finally, clearly getting the air back in his lungs again. “The way you… move…Have mercy on me.” He laughed, breathlessly.
His body collapsed back onto the bed, less tensed. His chest heaved as he came down from the high he was feeling in the moment, his eyes still filled with amazement. This was a moment you’d quite literally never forget, ever.
Your body collapsed onto his, your chest heaving too, your body still trembling with the remnants of your own orgasm.
After a while of just laying there in each other's arms, finally after months of god awful separation; you thought of what you went through to get here. Denial, guilt and anger, when you should have been more graceful with him. You vowed to be that way going forward.
It was almost silent in the apartment, bar your breathing. but you could hear the radio that was always on in the kitchen; Dana must have forgot to switch it off earlier in the evening.
Hungry Eyes by Eric Carmen was playing, filling the apartment with a driving synth.
You felt Michael shift below you, distracting you from listening intently to the song. It felt oddly fitting.
“Sooo…. Again?” Was all he said.
You cackled into his shoulder and he hugged you tighter.
