๋ ࣭ ⭑๋ ࣭ ⭑call me s | 9teen | any pronouns | music + writing | sideblog | mdni
๋ ࣭ ⭑๋ ࣭ ⭑ i plan on posting all of my tumblr fics/blurbs/whatever from this page. likes and follows come from my main blog where you can also find my ao3
⟡ summary: when you go to the studio with michael for one of his recording sessions, he finds himself distracted by the skirt you're wearing.
⟡ relationship: thriller era!michael (technically pre-thriller but who cares) x fem! reader
⟡ tags: smut (mdni), established relationship, slightly dom!michael, needy!michael, dry humping, making out, oral sex (f receiving), p in v sex, creampie, slight hair pulling, they are both lowkey obsessed
wc: 2.6k
a/n: so this is my first michael fic and first post from this blog... lets see how this goes. also i wrote this in a day and proofread (by proofread i mean skimmed over) maybe once, so lets just ignore the fact that it might be bad. rome wasn't built in a day but my fanfics definitely are! ok enjoy
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It was pure agony.
Michael’s eyes had spent all day running up and down your legs. You were leaning on the wall, one leg slightly bent, the low lighting casting a perfect shine that only seemed to tease (and frustrate) him more. It was a trail that led higher and higher, got his hopes up, then disappeared into the darkness of your skirt. The fact that he couldn't reach his hands under there made him clench his jaw.
Thankfully nobody could tell where his eyes lingered because of his dark sunglasses, but everybody had noticed how significantly distracted he was today.
Quincy cleared his throat. “Michael, just… whenever you’re ready.”
Michael shook his head slightly, as if to will away a thought. In a low voice, he muttered, “Yeah, yeah, sorry.”
You tilted your head slightly. Michael was always on his game and you knew that, even if this was your first time watching him in the studio. Thriller was almost complete and you figured that he might like some encouragement for the home stretch, so you came with him for today’s session.
You wondered if he was upset about something from the way his jaw kept clenching, but you really couldn’t tell because of his shades. Maybe he was always like this when he was working? No, that didn’t seem right…
As he started to sing, though, all of your worries vanished, and you could only think about one thing.
You loved him when he sang. The way he got lost in it. The way his hands clenched around his headphones, accentuating the veins in his hands and arms. The way when, if he had been singing long enough, a sheen of sweat coated his skin and gave him a slight glow, like an angel. Luckily for you, this was one of those times. God, this was torture. You wished you could just go in there and let him have his way with–
Quincy’s voice snapped you out of your thoughts. “Alright. Michael, let’s give you a break and go for lunch.”
“Quincy, I can keep going.” He spoke with a frown, and his voice sounded slightly wrecked, carried a note of desperation. You raised an eyebrow. Okay, something was up.
“No negotiations, you need a prime vocal performance for Thriller. Don’t sweat it, man. We got time.”
Defeated, Michael took his headphones off and made his way out of the recording booth. The sound engineers started talking quietly about where to go for lunch as you stepped out to meet him.
“Michael, baby, you did great,” you cooed as you pulled him in for a hug. He smelt delicious, like his signature cologne mixed with his natural musk. His hands settled respectfully on your lower back, causing something low in your stomach to heat up despite wishing his hands were lower. Always a gentlemen, Michael.
He had a real cool smile on his face that morphed into a giddy grin when he heard the compliment. Faces inches apart, you could see a slight blush painted on his cheeks.
His voice was featherlight, but oddly low. “Come on, it wasn’t that great. I mean, we had to keep redoing the same part over and over ‘cause I was so out of it…”
“Still,” you whisper-spoke, your hand rubbing slight circles in the nape of his neck. “You sounded amazing.”
For a second, there was a look in his eyes that seemed vaguely familiar to you. Like he was hungry. Just as he was about to lean in for a kiss, people came piling out of the control room. Michael, being as shy as he was, jumped away slightly and opted for just holding your hand in front of the crowd. You silently cursed the interruption.
Quincy came out, laughing about something before telling the two of you, “We all goin’ over to Sal’s for lunch. Y’all comin’?”
“What do you think, baby?” You asked softly. “You been real working hard–”
“No, I think we’re good, Quince. We’ll just, uh, chill here for a bit.” Michael’s voice was the epitome of forced casualness.
Quincy started down the hall. “Suit yourselves. And I mean it Michael, let that voice rest,” he called over his shoulder, leaving with a friendly wave.
The moment the hallway was cleared out, you turned to Michael and asked all concerned-like, “Somethin’ wrong? I thought you might want to eat?”
You noticed he was breathing real deep, like he was breathless but trying to hide it. You really couldn’t get a read on him, so you moved his sunglasses to rest on his head, sweeping his hair back slightly and leaving you to look at his eyes. His gaze was jumping all over, to your eyes, your lips, your neck, and down…
“Baby…” he sighed dreamily before closing the space between you, eliciting a startled sound from your mouth.
His lips moved deeply and desperately. Usually your makeouts didn’t start out this way; they always started slow and soft and morphed into something needier, but you weren’t complaining. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t daydreaming about this all day.
Despite the shock, your body melted into the kiss and your hands searched for something to hold onto so you wouldn’t collapse into the earth. You grasped at Michael’s hair, tugging slightly. He whimpered slightly into your mouth at the sensation, and gently pushed you against the wall.
Pressed up against you like this, Michael’s hard-on was pleasingly rutted against your inner thigh. When you thought you couldn’t get any wetter, you were suddenly soaked.
Michael found a rhythm with his hips easily, of course. He moved in slow but deep movements against you. His hands found the plushness of your ass and kneaded it gently with his big hands. He let out the most beautiful noises, moaning and breathing shakily against the area just below your jaw. He was touching all the right places, leaving the heat in your stomach to increase steadily.
“Mikey…” you gasped out, holding his head against your jaw. “What’s–” you giggled. “What’s all this about?”
The man against you was a wreck, with sweat dripping down his neck and the veins in his arms more prominent than ever. He humped against you like it was solving world hunger.
He kissed up your jaw a bit until his mouth found your ear. His breath ghosted softly against it, sending a chill down your spine and causing you to jerk your hips into him slightly.
“When I was recording,” he muttered shakily, “I couldn’t–God, I couldn’t stop staring at you, and your pretty legs, imagining what you would look like under me while you’re wearin’ that pretty skirt…”
Holy fuck. You didn’t even know how to respond. Instead, you kissed him fervently, drinking up every little noise he let into your mouth and exhaling it right back into his.
You could have stayed there forever. Humping each other in the hallway, desperate, depraved, panting. Your dry humping became anything but dry. The air around you was filled up with the heat radiating from your bodies and the sounds that escaped your lips.
Begrudgingly, Michael pulled away from you (not without a whimper of protest), took your hand, and led you inside the control room. The door clicked shut behind him. He pushed you up against the controls and you giggled softly, looking deep into his sweet eyes.
“We gonna do this on the controls? Really?”
He bit his lip and smiled, his adams apple bobbing as he looked down at you. He adjusted his erection slightly in his pants, and you gulped.
“You got a better place, baby?”
Well shit, he’s got a point.
He leaned down to kiss you some more, his hands traveling to the hem of your shirt and lifting it up to reveal a cute lacy bra underneath. His mouth began to make its way down the center of your body as his hands grasped at your breasts. He kissed your neck, your chest, down your abdomen and onto the sweet, sweet spot just above your skirt and just below your belly button. You sighed and threw your head back, pleasure overtaking you. You looked back down to take in the lovely sight before you: Michael, kneeled before you and gazing at you like he was praying to a goddess. One curl fell loose from its carefully styled spot and dangled on his forehead.
“You’re beautiful,” he sighed dreamily against your lower stomach. “Beautiful, beautiful.”
He flipped your skirt up and went right to kissing your inner thigh.
“Oh my–Michael…” This was driving you crazy. His breath against your pussy was just enough to rile you up but not near enough for you to be satisfied. He always took his time down there, kissing and sucking and and looking up at you–
“Mikey, please, come on baby…” you pleaded, not able to handle it anymore.
He smiled, trying to look all cute, but you could tell he secretly loved how much he was teasing you.
“Okay, okay.”
Ever so gently, he pulled your damp lacy panties down until they were wrapped around your ankles, just above your baby blue flats. He hooked his arms around your thighs and lifted your legs so that they were dangling off his shoulders. Then, in one tantalizing sweep, he licked from bottom to top, and you swear you saw the gates of heaven.
You leaned back, gasping at the ceiling as your hips bucked into his mouth and one hand grasped at his hair. His tongue worked wonders on your clit, the perfect amount of pressure and movement. He licked up and down your folds while he massaged your thighs. Electricity coursed all throughout your body. He ate you out like you were his last meal; his tongue curling hungrily, gasping, his nose nuzzling your clit. His hips thrusted, desperately looking for friction in his jeans but to no avail.
“Ba–baby,” you choked out, at a complete loss for words. You could feel him smiling smugly against you as he worked, pleased with himself for getting you to this state.
The warmth in your stomach coiled tighter and tighter, but you knew it wasn’t going to be enough. “Need more, Mike. C'mon.”
Michael kissed your pussy before pulling off. His chin was extra shiny from spit. “Patience, baby.”
His hand traveled to your hole and he pushed one finger inside slowly, curling to hit that spot that made your back arch and your eyebrows furrow together. He worked it slow, fingers long enough to reach deep inside of you. You whined, and he knew to add another finger. It was pure bliss. He kissed your legs sweetly as he fingered you, looked at you with love and desperation. He was in absolute awe at the woman before him.
“‘S not enough, Mikey. Please. I need you.”
Michael’s face changed when you said that. His erection was pressed against his jeans and begging for some attention. He slid his fingers out of you gently and immediately went to unbuckling his belt while he looked at you, took in your body splayed before him, your legs spread. A perfect writhing mess, just for him. He slid your panties off completely from around your ankles and put your legs over his shoulders.
“You have no idea,” he groaned, his voice a sexy bass, “how bad I’ve wanted to do this.”
You bit your lip at his words and watched as he pulled his pants and underwear down to his midthigh, unveiling his leaking cock. From the way it was twitching and wet with precum, it seemed like he was on the verge of finishing just from fingering and eating you out.
He pumped it a few times then positioned himself at your entrance, looking down in concentration. The anticipation was too much–it was pathetic, almost, how just his tip brushing against your opening made you sigh shakily–and just when you felt like you were going to spontaneously combust, he pushed inside of you with a smooth thrust. You basically screamed.
His strokes were perfect, deep, smooth, with a delicious rhythm. Your jaw dropped open, unable to make a sound, and then he, too, was a moaning, whining mess. You fell back onto the control panel, knobs and sliders digging into your back, but not enough to take away from the feeling of Michael going in and out of you while he whimpered praise.
“Mmh, you feel perfect baby, you’re so beautiful and good and perfect,” he moaned, more beads of sweat now trickling down his neck.
“Holy– shi– shit,” you stammered out. From this angle, his dick was hitting your g-spot perfectly each time. His tip grazed deep, deep inside of you. Fuck. You felt your orgasm quickly approaching.
“C’mon, baby,” he pleaded, breathless as he leaned down to plant quick kisses on your jaw. “You can take it, c’mon. You got it.”
You felt his rhythm slowly pick up, along with his moans. He was muttering strings of sweet nothings under his breath. Your name was on his lips like he was begging a god for forgiveness.
He quickly swept his shirt up, biting the hem to keep there as his thrusts got more and more desperate. His toned core was shining with sweat, the light wobbling on his body as he kept his hips moving. He threw his head back and started moaning, the sweetest music you’ve ever heard, and that sent you off the rails.
“Mikey, ‘m gonna–’m gonna–” your legs wrapped around his hips tighter and you felt every bit of tension in your stomach dissipate with a loud moan. Your fingers looked for anything to grasp onto but only found volume knobs. Your back arched for a second before you collapsed, your shaky arms not sufficient enough to hold you up. Your legs fell from around Michael’s waist.
At the same time, Michael finished, the warmth of his cum pumping deep inside you, overwhelming your senses and heightening your orgasm. He fell on top of you, gasping and panting pleasantly in your ear like he just ran a marathon.
The two of you stayed like that for a minute, Michael riding out the aftershocks and pumping his cum deeper into you. You traded breaths as you both tried to level out and come down from that absolute high. He planted a kiss on your cheek before he pulled out of you and started doing up his pants.
“Way to preserve your voice,” you joked, causing Michael to cover his face in embarrassment as he shook with laughter.
“Baby, oh my gosh,” he chuckled as you stood up to put on your underwear. “You’re walking like a cowboy or something.”
You started laughing uncontrollably with him. “Did we seriously just have sex in the control room?”
He blushed slightly and rubbed his neck. “Oh god, yeah, we did. Sorry. That was real dirty of me, wasn’t it?”
You walked over and planted a soft kiss on his lips, touching his chest warmly. You whispered in his ear, “I should visit you in your sessions more often.”
…
When Quincy and the crew got back, you and Michael tried your best to seem like totally normal upstanding citizens. You were sitting in the control room chairs with your legs crossed casually (although, it was a little stiff considering you could feel a certain someone’s cum leaking out of you), and Michael was sporting his sunglasses again.
Quincy sat down in his chair with a satisfied groan as the other workers piled into their respective seats. “Y’all missed out. What’d y’all even do here, anyway? Talk?”
Michael coughed. You giggled.
“Yeah, something was, uh, weighing on my mind. I got a clear head now. Ready to record," Michael explained.
“That’s what I like to hear.”
“Yo,” an engineer blurted out. “Who was messing with the equalization? Matter of fact, all this crap over here’s messed up…”
You and Michael shared a look and tried not to giggle.
a/n: woohoo! thank you for sticking it out to the end.
