'you still listen to music from 10 years ago 🤨?' bitch if prehistoric humans had audio recording technology id be sat up here listening to grog and unga bunga's greatest hits don't play with me
Synopsis: While Michael attends to his duties as a devoted husband (taking you to pound town), the maids arrive unnoticed. Drawn by the sinful sounds echoing from your bedroom, they find themselves unable to resist eavesdropping.
Tags: smut, established-relationship (y'all are married <3), OCs, p in v, mating press, voyeurism, creampie, overstimulation, oral (fem receiving), fingering, lots of drama, legal ramifications, mike being the worlds no. 1 husband.
Word Count: 7.2k
Requested: yes/no
Author’s Note: Although I'm proud of this, the writing process for this was hell! But anyway, I need detailed reports on what y'all think about everything as compensation, thank you very much.
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The noise of the curtains fluttering from the warm wind and the quiet chatter of the TV wakes you from your slumber. It's most definitely way past the acceptable time for a lie-in, probably closer to noon, but you don't care. With the way last night ended, with shared moans bouncing off the walls, no one could blame you. He had been so desperate for your touch after shutting himself in the studio for hours, hungrily taking you again and again until you couldn't string sentences together anymore.
Speaking of the incubus himself, as you open your eyes, before you can even muster up the strength to stretch your sore limbs, you're met with a tantalizing sight of Michael sprawled out on the bed next to you, absentmindedly watching the television. He's leaning against a pillow propped up against the headboard, completely nude. This isn't surprising, but what captures your attention is his soft and heavy length resting enticingly against his thigh, looking as delicious as ever. You try to ignore the slickness pooling between your thighs.
His cock is a sight to behold, thick and veiny, with a prominent ridge running along the underside. The head, peeks out from his uncut foreskin, is swollen and glistening with remnants of your previous night's activities. You can't tear your eyes away from it, from the way it lays there just waiting for your touch.
You groan inwardly. How is he so nonchalant about this? How can he just sit there, so casually, with his massive cock on full display? Doesn't he know what effect it has on you, how it makes you crave him like nothing else?
You keep staring shamelessly, your eyes trailing every little detail. In your already fuzzy state, you don't notice Michael glancing at you, an amused smile growing on his face as he follows your half-lidded gaze.
Teasingly, he readjusts his body, making his hips thrust upwards slightly, causing his thick cock to bounce a little. You whimper quietly, but loud enough for him to hear. That sound doesn't even register in your mind until you hear him chuckle. Your eyes dart upwards to his face, feeling your cheeks grow hotter under his amused gaze.
"Enjoying the view, huh?" he teases, and you quickly turn onto your back, facing the opposite direction to avoid his stare.
"None of that," he murmurs, reaching over to cup your face and gently turn your gaze back to him. "Look at me."
And you do. Goodness gracious, how does he manage to be so gorgeous even with his curls messily framing his face? Your eyes linger on his lips as you try not to look directly into his eyes. The corner of his mouth twitches into a smirk as he gently positions your face higher, silently commanding you to meet his gaze.
His long fingers trace your cheeks as he brings your faces closer together, forehead to forehead, noses bumping. He leaves the softest of kisses on your cheeks before pressing his lips to yours. The kiss is slow and unrushed; he doesn't even bother moving his lips much, just softly keeps them pressed against yours.
"Did you sleep well, baby?" he asks after pulling away, making you unconsciously lean in for more. You nod and nuzzle your cheek deeper into his warm palm. "Yeah? I'm not too surprised," he says, trying to suppress a smirk. You had fallen asleep last night while he was cleaning you up during aftercare, that's how thoroughly he had tired you out, but it's not like you're complaining. You playfully hit his chest..
Michael's chuckle rumbles through his chest, vibrating against your skin as you lay there, feeling the warmth of his body seeping into yours. He shifts slightly, the movement drawing your eyes back down to his impressive length. He notices and smirks again, his hand moving to gently guide your chin, lifting your face to meet his gaze once more.
"I know what you’re thinking about," he begins, his voice a low, seductive purr, “know what you’re craving."
Your breath hitches at his words, the passion in his eyes making your heart flutter. His thumb strokes your cheek, and he leans in, pressing another tender but more heated kiss to your lips. The kiss deepens this time, his tongue gently parting your lips, exploring your mouth with a languid passion that leaves you breathless. When he pulls away, his eyes are dark with desire.
His hands trail from your hips to your naked pussy, cupping it in his large palm, feeling the warm skin against his hand. The sensation sends a shiver up your spine, making you gasp. His finger slips through your folds, gliding between your glistening flesh with ease. He chuckles softly, his breath warm against your ear, "Always so needy, aren't you?"
Before you can respond with an eye roll at his usual teasing, he moves on top of you, spreading your thighs wide. Your breath catches in your throat as you look up at him. He groans at the sight of your drenched pussy, marveling at it for what feels like an eternity. His eyes hungrily stare at your already pulsing clit, desperately begging for attention.
"Do I have to fuck you every morning for you to function properly?"
Your heartbeat quickens at his words, your hips bucking towards him instinctively. He spreads your thighs even farther apart, shushing your whines with an authoritative raise of his brows. "You know what to say," he prompts, his voice low and commanding.
"...Please touch me," you murmur shyly, your voice barely above a whisper.
He decides to tease you further, enjoying the power he has over you, "What was that? I didn't quite hear you."
"Please, Michael," you beg, a little louder this time, "please fuck me."
"That's more like it," he says with a satisfied expression, taking in your already needy state before reaching over to his nightstand. He opens the top drawer and grabs a bottle of lube, squirting a generous amount onto his lengthy shaft. He strokes his cock a few times, ensuring it's well-lubricated. Without the lube, it's impossible for him to ever make love to you without unwanted pain; he's just too big. Whatever's left on his fingers he spreads it across your already glossy folds, circling your hole for longer than is necessary.
He gives you a look, silently making sure you still want this. After you nod enthusiastically he positions himself at your tight entrance, dragging his swollen tip up and down your flesh before gently pushing in the head, watching as your cunt stretches around him. With the events of last night, it's not as difficult as it might have been otherwise. His cockhead slips past your folds with ease, and you already feel yourself clenching around him.
"Needy girl," he murmurs under his breath, his voice thick with desire.
He torturously slowly slides half of his cock into your wetness and pulls out. Repeating this endlessly until his fat length is fully swallowed by your greedy pussy, “There we go,” he breathes out at finally watching your folds stretch around his thickness. His prominent veins deliciously rub against your slick walls, eliciting breathless moans from your lips. Your eyes flutter from the stretch, the sensation overwhelming, head pressing deeper into the plush pillow.
He steals a peck from your lips and squeezes your hips. He thrusts slowly at first, hips grinding smoothly at a mellow pace, savoring every inch of you. Consequently, making you think he's going to go easy on you but when has Michael Jackson ever been predictable?
At a speed that has your eyes widening he presses you further into the bed, folding your legs closer to your shoulders, putting you in a deep mating press that leaves you breathless. Before you can utter more than his name, he drives his hips against the back of your thighs, completely filling you up. “Jesus fucking christ Michael.” you choked out.
He picks up the pace, ramming his meaty cock into your squelching pussy. Your essence creates a white ring around his base, making him groan in pleasure. This new angle allows you to feel every inch of him deeper and deeper inside you. You can't control yourself, your moans growing louder and louder. Your eyes screwed shut, mouth hanging open as filthy whines and moans escape.
As he keeps pounding you into the mattress, he looks at your face and almost cums on the spot. The sounds in the bedroom are sinful - a mix of your moans and his grunts blending together, the bed banging against the wall with every hard thrust of his hips, skin slapping rhythmically.
"Look at you, already going dumb on my cock," he awes, his voice full of adoration.
You nod while not quite sure what you’re agreeing to, his words barely registering in your mind through the haze of pleasure. His smirk widens at your response, watching your nails dig into the sheets. The room starts to fill with the smell of sex, the musky scent only turning him on more.
He continues to fuck you fast and hard, his coily pubic hair rubbing against your throbbing clit, making your hips buck, chasing more of that sweet friction. Your moans grow louder, and if his cock wasn't so good, you'd try to be quieter. But all you can think about is how good he feels inside you, stretching you, filling you completely.
Your heavenly sounds drive him wild, he loves how in the mornings your sleepiness makes you more uninhibited, your cries ringing through his ears. But still, he decides to reach over towards the remote, turning up the volume of the TV to drown out the noises. Although he's never cared about the maids or security hearing him, he knows that when you come down from your high, you'll appreciate this gesture.
As you both lose yourselves in the throes of passion, the maids: Annie, Susie, and Diana make their way towards the entrance of the sprawling estate for their weekly cleaning duties. The warm rays of the sun cast a serene ambiance over the grounds, punctuated by the tranquil chirping of birds, blissfully masking the storm of debauchery that awaits them inside.
"You know, I still can't believe they faked everything," Susie remarks, squinting against the sunlight.
"I'm actually not that surprised, they always seemed fishy to me," Annie replies and smiles at Susie’s scrunched up face.
"Come on now, they named themselves Milli Vanilli, what kind of name is that?" Diana chimes in, adding her two cents to the conversation.
As they ascend the doorsteps and open the front door, entering the home, Annie continues her thought, "I mean, all singers lip-sync now. They're just the ones that got ca—"
Diana abruptly pinches Annie’s arm, cutting her off with a sharp sting, "Ow, what the hell—"
"Girl, shush!" Diana whispers urgently, motioning for silence.
The three maids strain their ears, their attention drawn by the unmistakable erotic sounds emanating from the bedroom—a rhythm of skin slapping against skin, accentuated by soft moans and gasps. Susie instinctively covers her mouth, freezing in place with wide eyes. None of them move a muscle as they process what they are hearing.
"Are they…?" Annie starts tentatively.
"Oh, absolutely." With wide eyes they exchange shocked glances. None of them move a muscle, unsure how to handle the unexpected discovery. Honestly how do you go about stumbling across your boss fucking his wife?
Diana, always the boldest of the trio, begins to tiptoe toward the hallway leading to the bedroom, prompting panicked whispers from the others.
"Diana! What are you doing?" Annie hisses urgently.
Rolling her eyes, Diana smirks back at them. "As if you two aren't just as curious," she retorts, continuing her stealthy approach toward the imposing double doors that shield a scene of raw intimacy unfolding behind them. Annie and Susie exchange resigned groans but follow cautiously behind.
Pressing their ears against the wood, they strain to catch every moan and whispered utterance, their curiosity piqued despite the scandalous nature of their eavesdropping.
"This is crazy," Susie breathes out in a hushed voice.
Unaware of the maids' clandestine surveillance, Michael drives into you with unrelenting force, his powerful hips slamming with yours in a relentless rhythm. Each thrust sends waves of pleasure coursing through your body, your senses overwhelmed by the delicious sensation of every ridge and vein of his cock stretching you to your limits. Your back arches instinctively, your slick walls gripping him tightly, sucking him deeper into your warmth.
"Greedy fucking pussy," Michael's voice groans with desire, strained with the effort of holding back. he mutters, the words laced with need. "Squeezing me so tight."
"P-please," you stutter, your voice barely a whisper amid the relentless assault of his powerful thrusts. "It’s too much."
"You can take it," he growls, his breath hot against your skin as he leans closer, his chain dangling temptingly in front of your face. "I know you can. You’re my good girl." His movements are deliberate, claiming you completely.
In a moment of pure instinct, you gently bite his shoulder, your nails digging into his skin as pleasure overtakes you. The bed beneath you rocks with each forceful rock of his hips, the headboard banging rhythmically against the wall. The murmur of the TV in the background does little to mask the crescendo of your combined moans and the sound of skin slapping against skin.
He adjusts his position slightly, angling his length to hit that sweet spot deep inside you. Your entire body trembles with the promise of release, his warm breath against your neck adding to the overwhelming sensations flooding your senses.
Meanwhile, outside the bedroom, Susie murmurs breathlessly, "Y’all hearing this shit?" Her pulse quickens with excitement. "I’ve never heard anything like it."
"That damn TV, can’t hear anything," Diana complains, pressing her ear harder against the wall in a futile attempt to drown out the sounds from within.
"They're really going at it, huh?" Annie whispers, trying to stifle a chuckle. "Didn't know Mr. Jackson had it in him." Her eyes widen with playful astonishment. "I mean, I knew he was passionate, but this...?"
"Lord forgive me for sinning," Susie quips, crossing herself dramatically as Diana giggles at her theatrics. "Oh, stop it, you."
"And half the country thinks he's a virgin," Annie adds with a sly grin. "Isn't that ironic?" Their cheeky banter fades as they're filled with arousal and a twinge of envy, listening intently to the man they've all undoubtedly fantasized about, lost in passion with his beloved behind closed doors.
Back in the bedroom, Michael pulls back to look into your eyes, his own darkened with lust. He grips your jaw and "You like that, baby? You like being fucked like this?" His words send shivers down your spine, your gummy walls instantly tighten around him.
"Yes," you gasp, your voice breaking with need. "God, yes."
"I want you to make a mess on my cock," he murmurs, his voice low and commanding, igniting a fresh wave of heat within you. "Can you do that for me, sweetheart?" You nod eagerly, breathless whimpers escaping your lips.
"Listen to how loud she's moaning," Annie murmurs from outside, her voice tinged with envy. "She must be feeling real good."
As you approach the brink of release, Michael grins devilishly, his movements becoming almost frantic to draw out the exquisite tension building between you. With every plunge of his fat cock sliding deeper and deeper, kissing your cervix, your legs tremble, your body quivering as you hurtle toward release. You cry out as your orgasm rips through you, driving you to a point of true wanton. Uninhibited, sinful moans echo through the room as you claw at the sheets.
Unable to handle your pulsing walls clinging to him he pounds you into the mattress, chasing his own high. As your body is covered in a thin sheen of sweat you try to calm down but the feeling on his bulbous tip flooding your pussy with his hot spurts of cum pushes you towards overstimulation. He sucks love marks on your neck to stifle his groans, as he feels his voluminous cum fill you up completely. He doesn't slow down, riding out your climax, driving you higher and higher until you're nothing but a trembling, incoherent mess beneath him.
Outside, the maids are spellbound, ears pressed against the door, their own breaths quickening in unison with yours.
"Oh my fucking God," Susie whispers, barely audible over the symphony of pleasure spilling from the bedroom.
"Shh!"
The maids, captivated, listen intently to your gasps as you climax. They wait a few more moments, taking in the heavy breathing and murmurs of endearment between you and Michael. Once the sounds start to subside, Diana gestures for them to move. “We should get out of here before they catch us.”
“Uh huh,” Susie agrees, her voice trembling slightly. They tiptoe away from the door, retreating to an empty room down the hall, locking themselves in.
Once inside, they're all breathing heavily, heart pounding in their chests. The air is thick with anticipation, their faces flushed with arousal.
"I- uh…holy shit," Susie’s voice is hushed but tinged with excitement. "She was so loud."
"No shit," Annie replies, her own breath still coming in short bursts. "I mean, it sounded like he was breaking her in half."
“You reckon his dick is really as big as they say?”
“Jesus Christ D, give us a moment to breathe.”
“I’m just saying, that girl’s always so quiet and sweet you know? Don’t think she’d be the type to fake her moans unless that dick is real good.'' Diana shrugs with a little grin on her face.
Susie fans herself with her hands, trying to cool down. “Yeah that's true, she’s always blushing and looking down when she talks to us, but here she is taking all that from him.”
Annie tries to be civil about all this but can’t help but add, “you think they go at it all the time?”
Diana’s grin grows wider as she nods. “You know it ain’t just a quick thing either, he probably takes his time too, making sure she’s thoroughly satisfied.”
“Lucky girl. I wouldn't mind being in her shoes,” Susie says dreamily.
Diana leans against the door, a mischievous glint in her eye. "You and me both,” she continues, “I gotta say, we have to do that again."
Annie looks at her, bewildered. "Are you crazy? We can’t just stand outside their door listening to them fuck."
Diana rolls her eyes. "Oh, come on. With how hard they were going at it, it's not far-fetched to think they'll do it again tonight. We should wait till they go back to their bedroom and listen in again."
"Absolutely not," Annie insists, crossing her arms defiantly. "That's crossing a line."
But Diana persists, knowing the curiosity and desire are mutual. "Oh, stop with this fake righteous act, y’all liked it, admit it."
Annie looks to Susie for support, but she just shrugs, clearly intrigued by the idea. Diana smirks, sensing victory. "See? Even Susie wants more." Susie, usually the shy one, surprises Annie by siding with Diana. "I mean… It was kinda hot.”
Annie huffs but doesn't entirely reject the idea. Diana’s enthusiasm is infectious, and deep down, Annie knows she’s curious too. "Fine. But how are we gonna do it without getting caught?"
Diana’s smirk grows wider. "We just gotta be smart about it. We know their routine. Once they’re back in the bedroom tonight, we’ll sneak up and listen. Simple."
Annie finally relents, though still cautious. "If we get caught, it’s on you, D."
Diana grins, clearly enjoying the thrill. "Trust me, it'll be worth it." The three of them continue to hash out their plot, excitement hanging thick in the air.
The trio finally compose themselves after their illicit eavesdropping and gossip session, deciding it's time to actually get to work. They set about their cleaning tasks, though the air between them crackles with the shared secret. Every now and then, one of them breaks the silence with a hushed comment or a knowing glance, the earlier events still fresh in their minds.
As they tidy the living room, the sound of a door opening draws their attention. Michael and you emerge from the bedroom, your body language relaxed and content, a stark contrast to the intense passion that had filled the room earlier. Michael's arm drapes protectively around your waist as he guides you towards the kitchen, his touch gentle and reassuring.
The maids exchange glances, curiosity piqued once more. "Look at them," Susie whispers, her voice barely above a breath. "She looks so satisfied."
Annie, ever the observant one, nods and without looking up continues to do her job. "Bet she is.”
Diana snickers. "Yeah, she looks fucked out, she was moaning so loud. Damn near broke my eardrums." if they hadn't heard your desperate pleas and whimpers they’d definitely find it hard to question your innocence.
From their vantage point in the living room, they peek into the kitchen. You sit down heavily on one of the chairs, your body spent and exhausted, fingers lazily tracing random patterns on the marble counter as you lean your head on your arm . Michael kisses the top of your head and moves with practiced ease, starting to prepare a quick meal for you. His movements are efficient yet tender, his focus solely on making sure you're taken care of.
As you absentmindedly glance around, your eyes meet Susie's. You smile gently and give her a small wave. For a moment, there's a flash of recognition in her widened eyes before she quickly returns the greeting with a shy nod. She turns back to Annie and Diana, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment.
"She saw me," Susie whispers, her voice a mixture of panic and excitement. "She smiled and waved."
Diana snorts. "Probably too blissed out to care. Look at her. She’s got that post-fuck glow."
Annie rolls her eyes, but a small smile plays on her lips. "You two are incorrigible. But yeah, she does look pretty content."
The trio continues their cleaning, though their attention frequently strays back to the kitchen. They can't help but watch as Michael moves about, his focus unwavering as he prepares something for you. Every now and then, he glances your way, a soft smile tugging at his lips.
"He’s so attentive," Annie murmurs, almost to herself. "I mean, he just spent all that time… you know… and now he’s making sure she’s okay. That’s so sweet."
Diana smirks. "Yeah, he’s definitely got enough left in him for round two tonight. I can tell.”
Susie bites her lip, clearly torn between embarrassment and curiosity. "I just hope we don't get caught."
As they continue to clean, their whispers and giggles fill the room, the earlier intensity of their task somewhat forgotten in light of their newfound entertainment. They dust the same shelves over and over again just because the view of the kitchen is by far the best from that specific angle. The sight of you and Michael in the kitchen, a picture of post-coital domesticity, only fuels their fascination.
Michael, sensing your exhaustion, walks over to you with a plate of food. "Here you go, sweetheart," he says softly, placing the plate in front of you. "You need to eat something."
You smile up at him, your gratitude evident in your eyes. He smiles and sits down next to you, watching you with adoring eyes.
The maids watch this exchange with keen interest. "He’s so good to her," Susie whispers, a note of envy in her voice.
Diana rolls her eyes playfully. "Of course he is. You heard how he was talking to her. ‘You’re my good girl,’" she mimics, her voice dripping with mock lust. "He’s got her wrapped around his finger."
Annie, who has been silent for a while, finally speaks up. "You know, maybe we shouldn’t be talking about them like this. It’s kind of… invasive."
Diana rolls her eyes. "Oh my god, Annie. Live a little. They’re not gonna find out. Besides, it’s not like we’re hurting anyone."
They continue their tasks, though their eyes frequently stray back to the kitchen. The atmosphere is charged with a mix of lingering arousal and the thrill of having witnessed something so private. As they finish up in the living room and move to another part of the house, they can’t help but continue their whispered conversation. "So, we’re still following through with the plan?" Susie asks, her voice tinged with anticipation.
Diana grins. "mhm."
Annie shakes her head, though a small smile plays at her lips. "You two are crazy. But fine. Just this once more, we’re not doing it again."
The trio shares a conspiratorial laugh, their bond strengthened by their shared secret. As they go about their tasks, their minds are already anticipating the evening, eager to once again be a part of the passionate world they had stumbled upon.
Meanwhile, in the kitchen, you finish your meal, your energy slowly returning. Michael sits next to you, his hand resting on your thigh, a silent reassurance of his presence.
You lean into him, your head resting on his shoulder. "Thank you," you murmur, your voice soft.
He presses a kiss to your temple. "Anything for you, baby. You know that."
As the day wears on, You both spend the day lounging around the house, basking in the simplicity of each other's company. The day has been a rare gift of leisure, a precious break from Michael's usually hectic schedule. The sun sets lazily, casting a warm glow over everything.
The trio finds themselves looking forward to the evening, their curiosity and desire rekindled. The thrill of the forbidden being too intoxicating to resist.
As the day winds down and evening settles in, the maids finish their duties and prepare to leave. Michael politely, walks them to the door. "Goodnight, ladies," he says with a charming smile.
"Goodnight, Mr. Jackson," they reply, trying to keep their voices steady. They share a quick glance, the events of the day still fresh in their minds, and attempt to leave casually. As the door shuts behind them they walk down the path they’d usually take to return home but they make a turn to the right, making their way towards the back of the house.
You are already in bed, lounging in a tank top and panties, the warm weather prompting you to kick the covers off playfully. The soft light of the setting sun filters through the curtains, casting a golden hue over the room.
Michael steps into the bedroom, locking the door behind him, his gaze finding you instantly. You turn your head towards him and smile, your hand constantly reaching towards his direction, the sight of him filling you with warmth. He shakes his head teasingly as he pulls the covers back onto the bed.
"You always do this," he shakes his head, his voice filled with affection.
You watch him intently as he undresses, his movements slow and deliberate. He strips down to his boxers, revealing his toned physique, and you can’t help but feel a surge of desire. Your eyes are hungry, taking in every inch of his body which is draped in golden sun rays.
He slides into bed next to you, his presence comforting. He gently coos, "Are you feeling hot, baby?" His hand finds your hip, kneading it softly, feeling the soft, warm skin under his palm.
You nod, your eyes half-lidded with desire and mischief. Taking his hand, you guide it down between your legs, pressing his fingers harder against your clothed clit. "I am," you murmur, your voice barely a whisper, signaling where exactly you’re feeling hot.
He chuckles, a low, knowing sound. "You're insatiable," he teases, his fingers starting to move in slow, tantalizing circles. The fabric unsurprisingly dampening in an instant.
Your eyes flutter from the slight pressure and you spread your legs wider, inviting him in. "You love it," you counter with a small smile.
He smirks and admits, moving between your spread thighs, his fingers hooking under your panties and slowly pulling them off. He casually lets them fall on the floor as his eyes are immediately glued to your weeping cunt, already salivating at the view.
Meanwhile, in the backyard, the maids have been waiting, the anticipation building. Diana, ever the ringleader, whispers, "It’s time." They tiptoe towards your patio which is connected to your bedroom. They crouch down next to the glass doors, holding their breath as they try to peer inside without making their presence known. The house is quiet, the only sounds coming from within the intimate space you and Michael share. They inch closer, their breaths shallow and hearts pounding, the thrill of voyeurism electrifying their senses.
Inside the bedroom, the atmosphere is intimate and calm compared to the morning's intensity. Michael lays on his front, his face inches from your glistening pussy, still leaking with his cum from earlier. He bites his lip at the sight, the raw desire in his eyes making you shiver with anticipation.
He gently slides his middle finger into your hole, pushing his cum deeper inside you. "Look at you, so full of me," he murmurs, his voice low and sultry. "Such a good girl, taking everything I give you."
You moan softly, the sensation of his finger inside you making your body hum with pleasure. He parts your glossy folds with his fingers, exposing your sensitive clit. Leaning in, he suckles on the bud, rolling it in his mouth with expert precision.
Peering through the glass, their eyes widen as they take in the sight before them. Michael is between your legs, his face buried in your pussy, his tongue working you with a slow, deliberate rhythm. Your eyes are shut tight, fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer as he devours you. The soft glow from the bedside lamp casts a warm light over the scene, highlighting every intimate detail.
"God, seeing it is so much better than just listening," Susie whispers, her voice a mix of awe and arousal.
They press against each other, jostling quietly for the best view. Michael's focus is entirely on you, his eyes closed as he savors your taste, his tongue flicking over your clit with expert precision. The way he worships your body is mesmerizing, each movement filled with intent and passion.
Suddenly, Michael pulls away with a wet pop, your juices glistening on his lips and chin. You whine at the loss of contact, your body trembling with need. "Shh, baby," he soothes, replacing his tongue with his thumb, pressing it against your swollen clit and rubbing gentle circles.
The maids hold their breath, their eyes glued to the scene. Michael prods two fingers against your entrance, teasing you before slowly sliding them in. He breathes in deeply, savoring your scent as his fingers begin to scissor inside you, stretching your tight walls. His wedding band glistens, drenched in your slick, as he pumps his fingers in and out with a steady rhythm, the cold metal adding to the pleasure.
Susie, filled with envy and arousal, leans closer to Annie. "I've never seen a man eat pussy this good," she whispers, her voice tinged with longing.
"He definitely knows where the clit is." Annie giggles and adds.
Diana, unable to contain her excitement, groans softly. "When is he going to take out his cock and fuck her?" she hisses, her eyes locked on the sight of Michael's fingers disappearing inside you.
Annie glares at her. "Oh, I'm sorry, is watching this not enough for you?" she snaps quietly.
Michael's fingers work their magic, the squelching noises filling the room as you whimper and buck your hips against his skilled hands. He watches you intently, his eyes dark with lust, enjoying the way you respond to his touch. "You're so beautiful like this," he murmurs, his voice thick with desire. "My girl."
Your whimpers turn into moans, your body arching off the bed as he brings you closer to the edge. "Michael, please," you beg, your voice a breathy whisper.
He leans in, his breath hot against your skin, leaving hickeys along your inner thighs. "What is it, baby?" he asks, his thumb pressing harder against your clit.
"Wanna cum," you gasp, your hands gripping the sheets tightly.
He smirks, his fingers curling inside you to hit that sweet spot. "Then come for me, sweet girl," he whispers, his voice a low growl.
The maids watch in rapt attention, their own bodies reacting to the scene before them. Susie's cheeks are flushed, her breath quickening. "I can't believe we're actually seeing it this time," she whispers, her voice trembling with excitement.
"Look at how he handles her. It's like he knows exactly what she needs." Annie breathes, her eyes wide with awe.
Diana, her frustration mounting, shifts restlessly. "I want to see him fuck her," she insists, her voice a low whine. "Wanna see what his cock looks like."
Annie shoots her a sharp look. "Just be patient," she snaps. "Enjoy what we're seeing now."
Inside the room, Michael's fingers move faster, his thumb rubbing tight circles on your clit. Your moans grow louder, your body trembling with the intensity of your impending orgasm. "I- I’m close" you cry out, your voice breaking with need.
"There there," he murmurs, his fingers never faltering. "Let go for me. Cum all over my fingers."
With a final flick of his tongue and a deep thrust of his fingers, you shatter. Your orgasm crashes over you, your body convulsing with pleasure. Michael holds you through it, his mouth and fingers never ceasing their movements, prolonging your release until you are spent and trembling.
The maids are transfixed, their own arousal palpable. "y’all…" Susie whispers, her voice filled with need. "I didn't even know it was possible to cum that hard just from fingers."
Annie nods, her eyes still fixed on the scene before her. "He’s Michael Jackson, what did you expect," she murmurs.
Diana, her eyes dark with lust, can barely contain herself. "I want to see more," she insists, her voice a desperate whisper.
As you come down from your high, panting, Michael gently withdraws his fingers, bringing them to his lips. "You taste so good," he purrs, his eyes locked on yours. You stretch weakly, your body still trembling. Michael licks his drenched fingers, savoring your taste as his eyes lock onto yours with a smoldering intensity. He leans in to give your clit a soft, lingering kiss, a gesture of tenderness.
As he moves off the bed to take off his boxers, you whimper from the loss of contact, your body still trembling from the recent orgasm. You always become so clingy afterward, seeking his warmth and touch even if it's scorching hot outside.
“I’m right here, baby,” he coos gently, his voice soothing as he pulls down his boxers, freeing his throbbing cock. The maids, hidden just outside the glass doors, gasp in unison at the sight. Michael’s heavy shaft sways with his every move, a sight both impressive and intimidating.
“Goodness gracious, that thing is massive,” Diana whispers, her eyes wide with arousal.
The others nod, their mouths hanging open in shock. “No wonder she always looks so happy,” Susie murmurs. “It’s hard not to when your man’s packing like that.”
Annie notices Diana’s hazy expression, her eyes glued to Michael’s meaty cock as she licks her lips. Annie nudges her sharply. “Stop drooling, Diana.”
Susie giggles, trying to stifle the sound. “Yeah, you look like you just came.”
Diana shoots them a side-eye, irritated but unable to tear her gaze away from Michael as he strokes his meaty shaft, preparing himself. She unconsciously leans forward, hands pressing against the glass doors, her desire overriding her sense of caution. The door creaks in the silent room, a loud and unmistakable sound.
Annie, eyes wide with realization, hisses urgently, “Wait, no!”
But it’s too late. Packed together like sardines, when Diana pushes forward, the glass doors swing open, and they all tumble into the room with a loud, resounding thud. The sudden intrusion shatters the intimate atmosphere, and for a moment, time seems to freeze.
You gasp in horror, your eyes wide as you scramble to cover yourself. Michael’s head snaps around, his expression shifting from surprise to fury as he sees the maids he had just bid goodnight to, now sprawled awkwardly on the floor. They remain frozen, their eyes wide with horror at having been caught.
“Fuck,” Annie whispers, the word barely audible but carrying the weight of their collective dread.
Michael’s eyes blaze with anger, but his first instinct is to protect you. He immediately grabs the covers and drapes them over your body, shielding you from their prying eyes. He presses a soft kiss to your forehead, whispering, “Stay here.”
You try to argue, your voice trembling, “But Michael-”
He cuts you off with a commanding look, one you don’t often see, filled with authority and protectiveness. “I said stay,” he repeats firmly.
Nodding obediently, you clutch the sheets closer to your face, your heart pounding in your chest. Michael turns halfway, careful not to expose himself completely, and fixes the maids with a venomously calm stare.
“Wait in my office,” he orders, his tone cold and tolerating no argument.
The trio stares dumbly for a few seconds, processing his words before they scramble to their feet, tripping over themselves in their haste to leave. Broken apologies tumble from their lips as they run out of the room, their faces flushed with shame and embarrassment.
Once they’re gone, Michael turns back to you, his expression softening. “Are you okay?” he asks gently, his hands cupping your face.
You nod, though your heart is still racing. “I guess…I'm just shocked.”
“I’ll take care of this,” he promises, his voice filled with a protective resolve. He kisses your forehead again, then stands, pulling on his discarded boxers and trousers. “Stay here and try to relax, okay?”
You nod again, watching him as he leaves the room, your anxiety mixing with a strange sense of reassurance at his presence.
Michael leaves you in the bedroom, his heart heavy with both fury and a fierce protectiveness. As he walks down the hallway, the moonlight filters through the windows, casting long shadows and illuminating his path. Each step he takes echoes softly against the wooden floor, the sound mingling with the seething rage that burns within him. His fists clench and unclench at his sides, every muscle in his body taut with anger.
In the office, the maids are huddled together, in a state of panic, their faces filled with dread. They had thought themselves clever, sneaking around to watch, but now the reality of their actions is sinking in.
“Oh my god, we’re so screwed,” Susie whispers, wringing her hands nervously.
Annie turns to Diana. "This was all your idea!" she hisses, her voice trembling with fear.
Diana glares back, her own nerves frayed. "Oh, don't you dare put this all on me! You wanted this as much as I did!"
Susie, caught in the middle, raises her hands in a futile attempt to calm them. "Guys, please, this isn’t the time. We need to stick together."
The door swings open, and they all jump, turning to see Michael standing in the doorway, his expression a mask of controlled fury. He steps into the room, closing the door behind him with a soft click that feels like the final nail in their coffin.
“Explain yourselves,” he demands, his voice low and dangerous.
The maids exchange panicked glances, none of them wanting to be the first to speak. Finally, Annie steps forward, her voice trembling. “We... we’re so sorry, Mr. Jackson. We didn’t mean to intrude. We just...”
“Just what?” he snaps, his patience fraying.
Susie whispers, her voice barely audible, "We were just curious..."
Michael raises his brows, his eyes narrowing. "Curious? Curious?!” he repeats, louder this time. The word hangs in the air, heavy with disdain.
He loses his cool for a moment, his voice rising as he yells, "Are you out of your fucking minds?!"
The maids shudder, their fear palpable. They are totally fucked, and they know it. “We’re truly so sorry,” Annie stammers, her voice breaking. “We never meant for this to happen.”
Michael’s expression remains hard, his eyes cold as ice. “You think an apology is enough? You think saying sorry will fix this? You’ve breached a level of trust that’s hard to come back from.” Michael’s eyes bore into each of them, his disappointment palpable.
Michael takes a deep breath, trying to rein in his temper. “What gave you the brilliant idea to spy on us?”
There’s a heavy silence as none of them dare to speak. Michael’s patience wears thin. “I’m not going to repeat my question.”
Silence fills the room as the maids exchange terrified glances. Finally, Diana stutters, "We... we eavesdropped earlier this morning." Susie starts to tear up silently, her guilt and fear overwhelming her.
Michael breathes out heavily, the sound like a hiss through clenched teeth. "Sit," he commands, his tone brooking no argument.
They scramble to comply, their hands shaking as they take their seats. Michael retrieves a folder from the desk drawer, pulling out several documents and laying one in front of each of them with a pen.
"Sign," he says, the word clipped and devoid of any warmth.
Annie furrows her brows as she reads the document. It's a non-disclosure agreement. It hits her like a punch to the gut: he's making them sign NDAs to ensure they don't blabber about this to anyone, especially the press. Without reading through it, they all sign. Their hands shake so much that their signatures are barely legible.
Michael retrieves the signed documents, his eyes never leaving theirs. He stares at them, his gaze hard and unforgiving. "Consider yourselves fired," he says, each word delivered with cutting precision.
The maids’ faces pale further, the reality of their actions hitting them like a sledgehammer.
They swallow hard, nodding silently. Without needing further prompting, they rise from their seats and make their way out of the office, their footsteps heavy with the weight of their actions. As they exit the estate, the night air feels colder. As they walk down the long driveway and the gravity of their situation sinks in.
As they reach the gates, they look back at Neverland ranch one last time, the grandeur and beauty now a stark contrast to their current despair. They exit, their steps heavy and their minds filled with regret.
imagine him slowly stroking it in and out of you in a missionary position (based on your hcs he doesn't like any other position where he isn't seeing your face while he fuvks you and i will stand by that) and then lets out a groan and says this in a slight dewp voice:3 "look at me girl" WE ALL KNOW HOW MJ LOVES TO CALL A WOMAN "girl" not by their name 😭😪 and then reader is obviously having a hard time obeying him cus my sis is getting fawkwd so he does the unexpected, firmly grabs their chin and make them look at him (reader is surprised but isn't hurt) and then kisses her (firmly too) and then the pace gets fast while they're kissing so reader isn't able to make any loud noises
Nonnie…
I’m hyperventilating omg I love when he calls women in his life girls that’s just so sooooo
yeah reblogging especially for my transmasc fellows who (like me) might be real uncomfortable with their chests and not know what to watch out for because we try to avoid this kind of thing (just me? okay)
Content Warning: slight smut, Michael being a pleasure dom pt. 5473
Word Count: 476
Requested?: yes/no (this is purely self indulgent)
Author’s Note: Here's a little drabble while I work on y'alls reqs
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Michael understands your cravings, your fantasies, your longing. He knows that you yearn for his girthy cock to stretch you, to fill you in the ways that only he can. Whether it's in your own home, at neverland or in a secluded spot on a romantic getaway, he's willing to answer your call, to give you exactly what you want, no matter where you are.
Every morning and every night, he vows to lavish attention on your sensitive pussy, to taste your sweet essence, and to ensure that you feel utterly satisfied. He will kneel before you, his lips and tongue hungrily licking and sucking to bring you to the edge of your orgasm.
He aims to create a world where you never feel the need to resort to touching yourself, where your only source of pleasure and release is him. He wants you to know that he's your safe haven, your sanctuary of ecstasy. With every intimate touch, every kiss, every caress, he reaffirms his commitment to your satisfaction. He knows that he wants to give you everything he has, and more.
All he wants is to be the one to take care of you in every way possible. The notion of his sweetheart tiring herself out for anything other than her pleasure is simply not an option. To him, you're a princess deserving of nothing less than the most regal treatment.
He has scripted a world where your comfort and satisfaction are most important. His mission is clear - you're to bask in the luxurious cocoon he weaves around you, a cocoon that demands you only revel in your desires while he caters to your every whim.
The concept of you engaging in laborious activities is foreign to him, making him question how other men have no issue with neglecting their lovers in the bedroom and only caring about their own release. That's a stark contrast to the luxurious fantasy he envisions for you. In his mind, you would do nothing more than grace him with different positions, allowing him to explore and ravish every corner of your body, letting him thrust his lengthy, fat cock into your glossy cunt. Your whimpers and whines of pleasure from cumming multiple times in a row would be the only contribution he seeks.
The mere thought of you succumbing to the pressures of pleasuring him, your jaw straining as you fight to take more of his shaft into your sweet mouth, or attempting to ride his thick cock while struggling to fully sink down, is enough to send waves of protective affection surging through him. He wants to shield you from any potential discomfort, no matter how fleeting.
A good girl like you should never have to lift a finger. He's here to give you everything he has - not just his body, but his heart and his devotion.
Summary: it's a cliché love story isn't it? The global superstar and a die hard fan who manages to catch her idol's attention during a concert. it's that simple, right?....right?
Content Warning: none
Word Count: 2,1k
Requested?: yes/no
Author’s Note: I changed the req a bit, put a little twist on this trope to make it more interesting. I hope you like it. :)
Links: navigation | masterlist | taglist
“Is the mic working tonight?" Michael asks Frank DiLeo, his manager. his eyes sparkle with mischief as they walk towards the wings, closer to the stage.
Frank chuckles, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "God, Mike, You'll never let us live that down, will you?"
Michael throws his head back in laughter, recalling a not-so-distant memory when the crew accidentally messed with the tech. “You guys cut off my mic during she’s out of my life! I had to fake cry to trick the fans into thinking all that was a part of the show.”
Frank, shaking his head in slight embarrassment, adds, "We learned our lesson that night. It won't happen again."
"Of course, it won't. Or else, I’ll cut your check in half.” Michael says with a small grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. As much as Frank likes to have some form of authority over Michael as his manager he’s still not the one who calls the shots.
Frank's expression shifts from amusement to a momentary flicker of concern. "You wouldn't..." he says as his voice trembles.
Michael bursts into laughter, the carefree sound echoing through the backstage corridors. "Just kidding, Frank. Can't you take a joke?"
Relieved, Frank lets out a chuckle, feigning a scowl. "You know, you give me a heart attack every time you say something like that."
Michael, still grinning, pats Frank on the back. "Come on, you know I wouldn't mess with your money."
As he sees his manager’s face relax Michael can’t help but tease him again. "Or would I?" he says as he leans down slightly to Frank’s height, watching Frank's face momentarily shift from relief to uncertainty again. Before he can respond, Michael strides onto the stage, leaving Frank bemused, with his jaw on the floor.
As Michael smoothly transitions between his iconic songs, the energy in the stadium is electric. The sea of fans undulates with excitement, but amid the frenzy, his attention is inexplicably drawn to a girl in the front row.
The second his eyes land on her he feels like he’s in a trance of some sort. There's an allure about her, something that tugs at the edges of Michael's consciousness. It's not just the way she sways to the beat or how her eyes light up with each note; it's an inexplicable connection that he can't shake off. Lost in the spell of her presence, he fumbles the lyrics of a verse, drawing giggles from the audience.
Michael Jackson, the perfectionist, is momentarily thrown off, a rare slip in his otherwise flawless performance.
Shaking his head to clear the distraction, he attempts to refocus. Yet, as the music continues, his gaze involuntarily drifts back to her. It's a puzzle, a mystery that unravels with each passing song. Why does she captivate him so? Why does she stand out in a crowd that's usually a sea of screaming adoration?
The realization dawns on him—she's different. Amidst the fervor of fans who've camped out for days, who've screamed themselves hoarse, in contrast she remains remarkably composed. She’s not crying, screaming, or fainting. Her demeanor is an enigma. It's not that she's unaffected; on the contrary, she radiates genuine enjoyment, but there's a serenity to her reactions that sets her apart.
Michael can't help but wonder. He knows the type of fans who are usually in the front row. They tend to be the wildest, most infatuated with him, having created an imaginary world in their heads where they’re in a romantic relationship with him.
But her? She doesn't seem like that at all.
How strange.
As he moves from one hit to another, the questions linger in his mind. His eyes continue to find her in the crowd, drawn to her like a moth to a flame. There's an intrigue. He thought he knew his fans inside out—their dedication, their unbridled passion. Yet, she challenges his assumptions.
Midway through his performance, Michael decides to playfully engage with the mysterious woman in the front row. He winks at her, not once but a few times, expecting a typical fan reaction—screams, swoons, or at the very least, a blush. To his surprise, all he receives in return is a serene smile. Just a smile.
The bewilderment creeps into Michael's expression. What's going on here? Is she immune to his legendary charm or something? Huh, he’d never in a million years admit it, but he feels his ego deflate a little.
Refusing to be discouraged, he takes it up a notch. He points directly at her, a playful challenge in his eyes. Surely, this will elicit a different response right? But no, she remains composed, smiling and silently mouthing the lyrics. This is unheard of for Michael, and he can't shake off the perplexity.
Jesus, what is she doing to him?
Unable to wait any longer, during a break where the band continues to play to give Michael a moment to breathe, he rushes backstage to his manager, Frank. He grabs onto Frank's shoulders tightly which surprises him.
“Look, you see that girl over there? No, not her, on the left, her. Bring her to me after the show, okay?” The urgency in his voice is palpable as he hastily says, instructing Frank to bring the mysterious woman to his dressing room after the show. Frank, usually the composed one, is taken aback by his client's sudden insistence.
"What's gotten into you, Michael?" Frank asks, trying to make sense of the unusual request.
Michael, in no mood for delays, shakes Frank's shoulders, emphasizing the urgency. "Just get her here, Frank. It's important. You got that?"
Frank, still a bit shocked by the unexpected outburst, manages to nod in agreement. He watches as Michael walks away, leaving him to process what’s just happened.
The final notes of the last song resonate through the stadium as Michael wraps up his performance. The crowd roars with applause, and Michael, still riding the high of the show, takes a moment to thank his fans. "Thank you, I love you all," he declares, his eyes scanning the audience one last time.
In that fleeting moment, his gaze lingers on the mysterious woman in the front row. Without giving it another thought, Michael dashes backstage, not even sparing a moment for his manager, Frank Dileo. He quickly instructs Frank to bring the woman to his dressing room and disappears, leaving Frank with his jaw on the floor.
After a refreshing shower, Michael reenters his dressing room, his mind buzzing with anticipation, heart beating unbelievably fast. And there she is, the enchanting woman who has captured his attention. Her back is turned to him as she admires the tour costumes on the rack, gently tracing the metal pieces with her fingers. Before Michael can utter a word, she turns around, her eyes meeting his.
With the most angelic smile, she introduces herself shyly, “oh, uh, hello, i’m y/n. Someone told me to come to your dressing room, I swear I'm not a crazy fan.” As her sweet, slightly trembling voice fills the room, Michael feels a sensation akin to his legs turning into jelly.
“I know don’t worry” he reassures her with a gentle smile, trying to keep his excitement in check.
“I asked them to bring you here”
“Oh…do you often bring your fans here?” she asks with a little smile on her face, teasing him.
Michael's eyes widen slightly, realizing how his previous statement sounded. “No, no, I’m not like that.” He defends himself.
“Please y/n take a seat.” he gestures to the cozy couch. Her name feels familiar on his tongue, unfortunately, he cannot remember from where so he lets the thought go.
Casual banter flows initially, words revolving around music, the pulsating rhythm of the crowd, and the enchanting atmosphere that wraps around every live performance. Michael can't help but be drawn to the woman's composure, a serenity that stands out amid the usual fervor of his adoring fans.
As the conversation meanders through the afterglow of the show, the woman pivots with a sudden turn, shifting gears towards more personal territory. "How do you deal with all the relentless media during the tour?" Her question hangs in the air, curiosity etched in her eyes.
A contemplative sigh escapes Michael's lips, the weight of the question temporarily lifting from his shoulders. "It can be daunting," he begins, "But the music, the fans, that's what keeps me going."
Her eyes linger on his face, searching for something more profound beneath the surface. Unsatisfied with his somewhat evasive response, she persists, "But what specifically bothers you? There must be something that digs deeper."
Michael hesitates, a brief moment of vulnerability flickering in his eyes before he decides to share, "The…the rumors about me bleaching my skin. It's hurtful, and it affects me more than people realize."
“Do you though?”
His eyes furrow, a mix of annoyance and anger flickering across his face. The probing nature of her questions stirs a cautious wariness within him.
She notices this and leans in, "You're so misunderstood, I just want to know the real you."
Silence hangs between them for a moment. Michael, caught in the whirlwind of emotions, contemplates the woman before him. Is she just a genuine fan seeking connection, or does she harbor ulterior motives beneath her calm exterior?
Gazing into her eyes, his hungry desire to be vulnerable and open his heart to some outweighs his concern. "No," he responds firmly, the word resonating with a quiet strength. "I don't bleach my skin. The rumors are just that—rumors."
Nodding in compassion she gently lays her warm palm on top of his in a soothing manner, this makes michaels senses spike.
"I hope I haven't crossed any boundaries," she offers apologetically, her eyes reflecting a genuine concern for a split second.
He looks at her with a hint of confusion, not quite grasping what she means. "No, no it’s…fine." he says.
Taking a moment to choose her words carefully, she ventures into more personal territory. "I mean, after what happened... Do you feel lonely on tour?" The cryptic nature of her question leaves Michael momentarily puzzled.
"What do you mean, 'after what happened'?" he inquires, eyebrows furrowing inquisitively.
She takes a deep breath, her gaze steady. "In the media, you know the whole Brooke Shields turning down your proposal. It must be difficult for you."
Michael's sigh echoes through the room as he dispels the misconception. "Brooke never never said no because I never proposed," he states, a touch of exasperation in his voice. "That was just a story she made up to get attention for her new movie."
As Michael clarifies the misinformation, the woman subtly slips her hand into her handbag, a movement that goes unnoticed by him. Maintaining an air of compassion, she continues, "It must be tough for you, dealing with the constant scrutiny."
"Yeah, it gets hard sometimes," he admits, a weight apparent in his words. "She’s been leeching off me, leading me on since we met." he says and feels guilt creeping up on him, but he’s been bottling up his emotions for so long he can’t help but vent.
Her expression remains composed, her eyes attentive. "I’m sorry you have to go through that Michael," she commiserates, though the glint in her eyes suggests a hidden agenda.
Michael, relieved to share his burden, continues, "I just want someone who's genuine, can’t you understand that girl? Someone who understands me for me, not for the image they've built in their mind."
As the admission hangs in the air, the woman's hand tightens around an object in her bag, a subtle signal of her concealed intentions.
After a conversation, well, more like Michael opening his heart while she nodded, the peculiar woman stands up abruptly and straightens the creases on her clothes. She grabs the doorknob and turns to face him.
“I hope you won’t be too surprised when you see yourself in the papers tomorrow morning Mr. Jackson” she says with one foot out the door.
Michael cocks his head to the side and hums in confusion, why is she speaking so formally all of a sudden. “What do you mean?”
“Haven’t you read that article about Princess Diana?”
Before Michael can open his mouth she’s already left the room and shut the door behind her.
Panicking slightly he rushes to the coffee table and gets a hold of the newspaper from last week. He swiftly flips through the pages until he stumbles upon the tabloid junk he’d read on a plane half asleep. The title reads:
“IS PRINCESS DIANA A MASTER MANIPULATOR?”
— By y/n y/l
Fuck, she’s a journalist. He should’ve guessed from the get go. She was a little odd but he brushed it off as her being shy and awkward, and now look at what he’s gotten himself into.
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