this is a side blog!! - my main one is @romansbbg!!
my masterlist! - my taglist!
⊹₊⟡⋆👤 : my name is lyla, i’m 8teen, cape verdean & irish, & an isfp!! i’m also frm boston! i've always listened to mj, but watching the biopic def sent me into michosis (call me a newgen idgaf) & that didn't fit with the vibe of my main blog so i decided to make this one!
⊹₊⟡⋆❕: this blog is dedicated to all things michael jackson!! my main blog is more of a personal/ug rap based blog if you're interested in that!
⊹₊⟡⋆📝: any fics i write on here are strictly for mj!! & i'm very open to requests, suggestions, or ideas if anyone has any for me!! don't hesitate to send them!!
⊹₊⟡⋆❔: i would love to have moots on this account, so please don't feel shy to message me!! i love having ppl i can interact with!! but if i follow you, it will show up on my main blog - @romansbbg - not on this one! my main blog also has more info about me if anyone is interested :)
thriller!michael who gets overwhelmed so easily that instead of ranting, he just silently walks over to you, wraps an arm around your waist, grabs your boob like it's a stress ball, and stands there for a full minute. you don't even question it anymore. you just pat his curls and go, "better?" and he sighs dramatically into your shoulder and mumbles "much better"
𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: policeman!michael jackson x f!reader (au)
𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: speeding along the freeway, a policeman pulls you over with a punishment in mind.
𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: smut, 18+, p-in-v, creampie, fingering, car sex, semi-public sex, mean!mike, groping (consented), corrupt police officer? but readers into it, use of pet names ‘sweetheart’ ‘baby’ …is this too freaked out?
𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: that pic of him brought this idea straight into my sick mind …enjoy! btw i do not condone speeding, it’s a very dangerous and reckless thing to do which can injure/end the lives of many, including yourself—so drive safe! i lowk got lost in the sauce whoopsies …this ain’t for everyone but i had fun tehehe
82MPH in a 70 probably wasn’t the wisest idea you’d ever had.
It was late—2am to be exact—and you’d just finished a gruelling, tiring shift at the diner, and were ready for the sweet haven that was your bed. There wasn’t a car in sight—full beams illuminating the road ahead of you, the only thing visible was dust, straw that had escaped from the back of a truck, lingering on the ground, and the occasional litter that shot up into the air from the wind that your beat-up Toyota blasted past it.
You were naive, though, to believe that late into this Saturday evening, on July 4th weekend, prompting your later-than-usual finish, that a certain black Chevrolet Caprice wouldn’t be hiding in the shadows to find a reckless law-breaker such as yourself. The thankful thought to slow down never hit you as you cruised along, completely forgetful to the fact that Police often roamed around later than usual on a busier, popular weekend such as this one.
But, not to worry—you were soon reminded!
Red and blue blasting lights consumed your vision in your rear-view mirror, as well as a patronisingly infamous siren screaming at you into the quiet night, as you whizzed past a hidden vehicle behind a cluster of trees.
“Fuck! Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck—“ You panicked instantly, pressing on the brake to slow down to a comfortable 68MPH, before the familiar Police car caught up to your speed, tailing behind you closely.
The sirens never let up, neither did the lights, and that only meant one thing—Pull over.
“Oh, fuck, shit, shit, shhhhiiit!”
Panicked adrenaline pumped through you instantly—hands shaking as you indicated right, pulling over messily to an old dirt lay-by area, the gravel crunching under your tires as you slowed to a stop. The sleek ‘81 Chevrolet joined you—parking a few metres behind you, for safety precautions, the sirens finally halting.
“Don’t panic, don’t panic—breathe, breathe, breathe.” You affirmed to yourself, closing your eyes briefly to focus on your breathing, hands trembling in your lap as you prayed for a humble, generous Officer that would show you mercy.
In your right wing-mirror, you gazed anxiously, awaiting the Officer to exit their car, and ruin your night with a $75 ticket. But, as the luckiest lady you were, a tall, slim, young male emerged from the car—adjusting his belt, adorned with a .38 Special service revolver hanging along his upper-thigh, and a flash-light, that was being pulled from its sleeve, and flicked on as he approached your car.
Bingo!
You knew exactly how to get out of this one.
With swift, nimble fingers, you popped open the top three buttons of your pink blouse, ‘Ricky’s Diner’ embroidered on your left breast now folded over to slightly conceal your place of work—before grabbing a handful of your breasts, and pushing then further together in your bra.
A Policeman is a man at the end of the day—and what man can resist a poor lady with her tits out in the middle of the night!
You jumped slightly as the hard plastic of his flashlight banged against your window. Your head flew in the direction of the noise, and swallowed thickly as you reached for the lever, winding down the mucky glass slowly.
“Licence and registration, please.”
Your heart stopped as you met the dark eyes of the Policeman in front of you—this was about to get real good. He was ethereal—quite possibly the most beautiful man you’d ever laid eyes on, staring broodily down at you. For a second, his gaze flickered as it met your own, the corners of his mouth twitching up into a smug smirk, as his eyes shamelessly dropped to your exposed cleavage, before trailing back up to your eyes.
Flirting was going to be real easy when he looked like that.
He was dressed in a dark, fitted navy long-sleeve shirt that hugged the curve of his biceps deliciously, paired with deep black trousers, and black boots on his large feet. Alongside the matching navy blue peaked cap upon his trained set of dark curls on his head, a twinkling silver badge, with ‘LAPD’ etched into its shape, rest upon his clothed left breast, and on the other side a nameplate above the right pocket that read ‘M.JACKSON’—He looked edible.
“Evening, Officer Jackson.” You started, eyes never leaving his own as you dug through your glovebox, “What’s the reasoning for this?”
“Don’t play dumb with me, lil’ lady.” The man breathed out a short laugh, “Licence, now, please.”
“Yes, Sir.” You answered, drawled and sensual, lip coming between your teeth as you handed both documents to him.
“Ma’am, are you aware of how fast you were goin’ back there?” He spoke smoothly, voice laced with a thick accent that you clenching your thighs together involuntarily.
“No, Officer, I’m sorry …was I going a little too fast?” You feigned innocence, eyelashes fluttering as you cocked your head to the side.
“Just a lil’ bit, ma’am.” Officer Jackson spoke, fighting a smirk at your faux-innocence, “82 in a 70.”
You gasped fakely, “No! Was I really? Oh, well, Officer, I am deeply sorry. Just tryna get home after a long shift, y’know how it is, Sir, hm?”
“I sure do, ma’am, but I stay under the limit.” He shot back smartly, “Just headin’ home after work, were ya?”
“Yes, Sir.” You nodded, gaze still locked on his, “Can’t wait to get home, take off all my tight, sweaty clothes and get in a warm shower.”
You didn’t miss the way his jaw clenched at your words—tongue darting out to wet his lips as his eyes trailing to your conveniently pressed up breasts again, before finally landing on the documents in his grasp. He shon the light of his beaming flashlight directly at the plastic card of your personal information in his hands—vision raking over the numbers and letters.
“Ma’am, are you aware your licence is expired?”
Fuck.
“I—um—“
“Hm? What’s the excuse now, ma’am?” He taunted, the smug smirk finally reaching his lips as he peered down at you.
“I …uh, I wasn’t aware, Officer, I’m sorry. Work’s been hectic, I haven’t had chance to check it.” You spoke, honestly this time.
He hummed suspiciously, eyes once again flickering over your face, chest, and dropping to your short skirt that danced along your upper thighs, exposing the skin to his wondering eyes under the spotlight of his light.
“Where’d you say you worked again?” Officer Jackson pressed, cocking an eyebrow as he stared at your provocative outfit.
“I didn’t, Sir.”
“Is that a refusal to answer Police questioning?”
Shit—what?
“No—no! I work at Ricky’s, down on 4th.” You answered honestly, “Worked there for 5 years now.”
“Ah, I know it. Opposite the KFC, right?”
You giggled genuinely, “Yes, that’s the one. Been real hard gettin’ customers with such a big chain across the street.”
He hummed again, more of a satisfied noise this time, allowing a small smile to grow on his face, “Well, you’re outta luck, girl, ‘cause I love KFC.”
“Well, if you stopped by some time I could show you some real cooking.” And the charm was back on—game time!
With an elbow on the window, your hand pressed under your chin, and a sweet, toothy smile—you put the magnitude of your flirting to its maximum.
“I see what you’re doin’, ma’am.” He started, the smirk, however, never leaving his face, “Y’know it’s a felony offence to attempt to seduce your way out of a citation?”
“ …Uh—“
“Ma’am, can you step out of the vehicle for me, please?”
Well, shit. The idea that just because he was hot, that he’d succumb to your devious flirting was a stupid one. That citation, and even an arrest with a court date scheduled, had your name written all over it now.
You complied—switching off the engine, and popping the door open to swing your legs out. Hitting the gravel road, your legs shook in panic as your undecided fate lay in the hands of the painfully attractive man before you, who was now eyeing you up and down slowly—taking in your slightly trembling frame, clad in your matching pink blouse and skirt, and black kitten heels over your pedicured toes.
“Little slutty for a diner, hm?”
You gasped softly—the nonchalance and causality of his crude words hit you suddenly, your mouth falling ajar.
“Excuse me? Who do you think you’re talking to like tha—“
“Ma’am, there’s no need to get aggressive.” He interrupted, the smile permanent on his face, as a hand came out in front of him, “If you don’t calm down, I’ll have to detain you.”
“What the fuck? Detain me? For what?”
“Two felonies—speeding and expired license.” Officer Jackson recalled, “And possibly aggravation towards a Police Officer.”
“You just called me a slut, Sir, I—“
“Ma’am, I told you to calm down already.” Oh, this guy was playing a real sick game right now, “This is your last warning.”
You scoffed, words failing you as you eyed the man in-front of you. You weren’t sure whether he was a seriously corrupt Police Officer who strived off making money and arrests to innocent, vulnerable women, or an aroused, perverted fiend just like yourself. And with the way he was licking his lips, wetting the skin, as he gazed dreamily at your exposed chest—you were sure it was the latter.
And you were more than into it.
“I’m so sorry, Sir,” You pouted, welling up faux-tears in your eyes as the flirtatious charm sprang back into life, “I’m just so nervous—feel my heart, it’s beatin’ right outta my chest.”
Without giving him any time to process your next move, your hand clasped around his extended hand, and pressed it directly against your bare chest—deliberately smushing his dark brown palm into the plush of your breasts.
“See? You just make me so nervous, Officer.”
“Turn around.”
The gruffness of his usual soft tone made you widen your eyes suddenly—lip coming back between your lips, as you willingly turned around. Your heart hammered loudly in your chest—whether it was genuine nerves or the thrill of being so close to such an attractive man, you weren’t sure—probably both.
“Just a mandatory pat-down.” He spoke lowly, his chest mere inches from your back as he stepped closer, his voice dropping to a low grumble behind your head, “Do I have your consent, ma’am?”
“Yes, Officer.” You breathed, voice shaken as you braced yourself for his hands against your body, trembling in ecstatic anticipation.
“Good girl.”
He didn’t miss the way you gasped—breath catching in your throat as he chuckled darkly. Your eyes fluttered shut as his hands met your tensed shoulders, rubbing the skin quickly—his hands were warm and large, covering substantial surface area of your arms as he made his way down. His hands smoothed down your back slower this time, sliding to follow the curve of your waist, and around your middle—fingers curling over the plush of your stomach. By the time he crouched down, hands patting over your exposed legs, prickling with goosebumps, you had been biting your lip so hard you tasted blood—it had been a long time since you’d been touched, by anyone, let alone being pat down by a divine man such as the one behind you.
“Oh!”
The word left you before you could stop yourself as his two large palms cascaded over the round of your behind—each cupping a cheek of your ass, kneading gently. He could easily play it off as attempting to feel for any weaponry, but the way he was toying with the plushness of the skin was hard not to interpret as sexual.
“Need me to stop, lil’ lady?” He whispered, breath hot against the back of your ear as he rose to his feet once more, hands now sliding across your lower back, and back to your waist.
“N—No, it’s okay. Keep going.”
God, you sounded pathetic—your voice broken and wobbling, chest heaving as his thumb trailed across the side of your breasts, your jaw instantly clenching at the sensation.
Soon enough, his hands cupped the swell of your clothed breasts—palms gliding over your now pebbled nipples, fully erect from the sensual touching. Involuntarily, your back arched into the touch, a quiet, almost inaudible mewl left your gnawed lips—You froze. As did he.
In the silence of the dark freeway, it was hard to miss the way you just moaned at a Police Officer groping your breasts for a mandatory search. Even the quietest of whimpers hit his perked up ears, his hands stilling around the mounds.
“Well, well.” He murmured, voice husky, “What are we gonna do with you, girl?”
Another noise left you as his thumb, deliberately, trailed against your left nipple—the pebbled nub rolling over the pad tantalisingly slow.
“Officer, I—“
“Shhh, it’s okay.” He whispered, chest pressing against your back, hands still tracing over your clothed breasts, “I think a strip-search is in order, I’m not satisfied you’re not concealing any weapons.”
You swallowed thickly, turning around slowly, his hands leaving your chest, your blown-out pupils meeting his own. Your hands, now shaking from anticipatory excitement, reached for your shirt—painfully slowly popping open each button, the blouse coming increasingly more loose as you finally reached the last button. Even as you slid the shirt from your body, your lacy, black bra on full display, your gazed never slipped from his face—even when his vision locked on your exposed breasts. His lip, just like yours had been, was caught tightly between his teeth, as if he was fighting every urge to not break any code or agreement he’d signed once he started the job—but, he was already too far gone. Especially when you unzipped your skirt at the back, and let it fall to the floor in a swift drop—now, half-naked in your matching undergarments and high-heels.
“Well,” He croaked, throat going extremely dry as his eyes raked over your bare frame, “I didn’t say leave those on.”
“You want me to go all the way, Officer?” You breathed, licking your lips.
“Hmm.” Officer Jackson hummed, nodding briskly.
Your hands crawled behind you, fiddling with the clasp, before popping it open—letting it fall off your arms. You fought a grin as Officer Jackson’s breath hitched in his throat—teeth grinding together as he eyed your swell breasts, nipples hardened from equal parts the cold, crisp air, and the arousal that flowed through your veins like electricity—pooling in the panties you were now sliding down your legs.
You didn’t even care that you were stark naked in front of the stranger before you—pussy and tits in his complete vision as he eye-fucked you, hunger dazzling in his eyes even in the dark.
“This better, Sir?”
“Much.” He mumbled, nodding slowly, “But, a physical exam is still required.”
“And how does that work, Officer?” You questioned, feigning stupidity—you knew exactly what that meant, and every fibre of your being was praying to God that he’d take those large hands of his and fuck you senseless with them.
He stepped closer, the intoxicating scent of his cologne, deep and musky, danced around in your nostrils—the smell dizzying and sending you breathless as he towered over you. Up close, you really got to look at him—he had dangerously gorgeous brown eyes, almost black from how blown-out how pupils were in desire, stunning brown skin, baby-hairs smoothed to his forehead, just before his neatly-kept dark curls, as well as a small, blooming moustache atop his upper, plump lip.
His hand dipped, smoothing under the back of your left knee, and raised your leg—resting your levitated leg on the sliver of your exposed tire. This position was vulnerable and open—your legs now deliciously spread, your arousal painting your thighs as you awaited his next move.
“This is mandatory, y’see?” He drawled, a hand crawling up your inner thigh slowly, “Can’t miss a single spot.”
“I understand, Sir.” You breathed, “You can search anywhere you want.”
He hummed once again, the noise rumbling in the back of his throat, as his finger came in direct contact with the wetness soaking your thighs. He swallowed thickly, pressing himself closer to your body that radiated a scorching heat—rolling a familiar bulge into your other thigh. You gasped at the feeling of his stiffened dick beneath his slacks, a bodily reaction purely from your nakedness—your own body reacting similarly, more slick drooling from your bare sex.
“Consented, right, sweetheart?”
You blushed harshly, your cheeks glowing a deep red as his middle finger grazed along your folds, “Yes, Sir.” You forced out through gritted teeth, fighting every urge not to beg for his fingers.
That calculated logic went straight out the window the second his finger pushed past your soaked lips, and slipped inside your wet heat—the impressive length of his slender digits reaching so deep that submissive whines fell past your plump lips.
“Jesus.” He groaned lowly, his facade faltering as you clenched around his finger, your slick arousal coating his digits, dripping down his knuckles.
A second finger joined the first, and instantly began a gruelling pace—curling against your front wall to abuse the sweet spot inside you that your hand flying to his wrist, acting as an anchor, as he worked you open with his fingers.
“Officer!”
“Shh, just take it.” Officer Jackson whispered, rolling his hips forward, his erection rubbing against the bare of your thigh as he repeatedly nudged your G-spot, “‘M just doin’ my job, right?”
You nodded, eyes rolling to the back of your head as pleasure consumed you, your brain going numb, “You’re such a good Police Officer, Sir.”
“Yeah?” He breathed, hips stuttering at the praise, fighting a groan that threatened to slip from his lips, “Y’doin’ so good, sweetheart.”
You moaned, louder and shamelessly, head lolling back, eyes fluttered shut as his thumb grazed upwards—now rolling your throbbing clit along the pad, doubling the pleasure. Your fingers tightened around his wrist, the other scratching the paint from your bonnet as the lewd sound of your squelching cunt filled the silent air—alongside your carefree whines and whimpers.
“Oh—Oh, God, I—Oh, fuck, Officer, I’m gonna—“
“Yeah? You gonna give it to me? Gonna make me proud?” Officer Jackson growled, leaning forward to brush his lips against the shell of your ear, his breath warm against the skin, goosebumps blooming once again over your skin at the sensation.
You cried out, louder than you expected, turning your head to capture his lips in a fierce, frantic kiss as you released—moaning loudly into his mouth as your hand flew to his face, cupping his warm cheek, as your tongue danced into his mouth. He groaned into your mouth—teeth grazing your bottom lip as he french-kissed you swiftly, not wanting to waste a single second apart from you as your pussy spasmed around his fingers—creamy release drooling down his hand, his pace slowing as you came down from your high.
“Not deep enough.” He panted against your lips, hands, still coated in your slick, fiddled with his belt, unbuckling it quickly, “Don’t know if you’re still a threat.”
You whined, lapping into his mouth desperately as he forced his blacks slacks and impossibly tight boxers down to his mid-thighs, his hard, thick dick springing free from its restraints. He trailed kisses from your mouth, to your hot cheek, to the crook of your neck—nipping and sucking at the skin, marking it in deep, dark purple lovebites. Meanwhile, his right hand fisted his stiff cock—pumping himself, allowing pretty, flustered noises to escape into your flesh, as he prepped himself.
“Turn back around, baby.” Officer Jackson commanded, a large hand splaying across your lower back, signaling you to move.
You did so quickly and frantically—your heeled foot meeting the gravel once more as your bare chest hit the cool of your metal bonnet, hissing as the crisp, coldness rolled against your sensitive nipples. The iciness didn’t last long as Officer Jackson pressed himself against you—warm chest flush against your chest, as his twitching dick, drooling with pre-cum, slid between your glistening folds.
“Needa’ see if you’re gonna hurt me, baby. You wouldn’t do that, right? I’m such a good cop after all, hm?”
“Never, never—mmh!—please, please!” You heaved, nails dragging along the bonnet, scratch marks indented into paint as the head of his dick caught at your entrance.
A string of profanities left your lips as he slid inside—the size of him knocking the air out of your lungs as he pushed himself as deep as he could go in one fell swoop. Your name, one he’d memorised from your licence, fell from his mouth, a sensual, lewd, low growl as your tight pussy constricted around him, accommodating the stretch.
“God, y’so fuckin’ tight.” Officer Jackson breathed, heart hammering against your shoulder blade, as he pressed a soft, gentle kiss to the side of your head, “You gonna be a good girl and comply, hm?”
“Yes! Yes, Sir—do what you want with me.”
Needy and desperate—that exactly how you sounded, and exactly what you were. Dying for him to move, to feel the drag of his throbbing dick against your spongy walls, abusing the sensitive spot inside you that had you seeing stars without even needing to look up at the night sky.
And that’s exactly what it did.
With every thrust, his hips snapping against yours ruthlessly, you screamed—the dark blue paint of your Toyota physically coming up under your nails as he pounded into you relentlessly. His name, ‘Sir’ and ‘Officer’ repeatedly spilled from your mouth—begging him for more, deeper, harder, faster, as he took you on the hood of your car. He was unforgiving—just as a Police Officer should be, despite his irresponsible, corrupt ways, by ploughing into you with such fever you couldn’t help but cry out into the night.
“Fuck, girl, y’pussy’s squeezin’ me so hard. What’cha tryna hide from me?” He teased, his tongue darting out to trace your earlobe, “You got a concealed weapon I don’t know about? You tryna get arrested, sweetheart?”
“No! No! Swear—mmmhh!—“ You exclaimed, breath ragged and uneven, as he drove in harder, angling his hips to repeatedly slam against your anterior vaginal wall, an area that had your second, more powerful orgasm, creeping up your spine.
“Mm, I don’t trust you.” Officer Jackson taunted, his pace never letting up as his hands climbed up your front, one hand cupping your breast, rolling your right nipple between his nimble fingers, and the other slipping between your conjoined legs to rub your sensitive clit.
The triple sensation, sending the pleasure to another level, had you blabbering nonsensical sentences—his surname, not knowing his first, along with cries of ecstasy, mingling with the shlap! shlap! shalp! of his hips against your recoiling ass.
“Oh! Fuck, fuck, Officer, ‘m gonna cum!”
Your voice broke loudly, your hips bouncing back to meet his thrusts, forcing him to the hilt, as your second orgasm hit you like a freight train—the overwhelming euphoria washing over you violently.
“Fuck!” Officer Jackson spat, hand tightening around your breast, as his hips stuttered at your pussy clamping down on him harshly, “So fuckin’ tight—should be fuckin’ illegal the way you’re squeezin’ me, baby, fuck!—“
With a low, loud grumble of a moan, the ferocious pounding sped up, if even at all possible with the speed he was fucking you, ending with a crescendoing, harsh thrust—burying himself to the brim, the tip of his flushed cock nudging your cervix, as he spilled inside you—warm, thick, spurting cum flooding your convulsing pussy, whining softly as you shook from the aftershock of your orgasm, as well as the sensation of him flooding your womb.
For a moment, no one moved—the ragged, broken heave of your breaths being caught surrounded the quietening atmosphere, his hips still pressed firmly against your ass as he softened inside you. His hand dropped from your breast, and to your hip as he finally eased himself out of your pussy, ignoring the way you whined at the loss of fullness. A whispered curse fell from his mouth as a dollop of his release dripped from your sex, and onto the gravel beneath your feet.
“Here.”
You craned your head at the sound of his gruff voice, still pressed against the bonnet, legs weak and shaking, watching as he handed your clothes to you—now coated in thick, dusty dirt. You took your blouse and skirt from him, holding it close to your exposed chest, feeling suddenly too vulnerable for your liking, as he crouched down to grab your panties.
“Leg.”
His voice was short and simple as he peered up at you from his bent knees—holding your panties open for you step into you. You tried to ignore the way your heart clenched at the sweetness of his actions, as you slipped your feet into each hole of the lacy panties, smiling softly as he slid them up your body, and around your bottom half once again. He did the same routine with your skirt, letting you slowly stand into it, and sliding it up your body, zipping it back up gently. You opted for no bra—just sliding the blouse over your chest, and doing up a few buttons—too fatigued from the feverish sex to do anymore.
Officer Jackson cleared his throat once he’d risen to his feet once again, after retrieving the flashlight he’d thrown the floor previously, tucking his softened dick back into his trousers, buckling them up again, smoothing out the material, before looking back at you.
“Now, I’m gonna let you off just this once, but get that licence renewed ASAP, miss.” He ordered, the stern, authoritative tone returning, pointing a finger at you, the same one that had been deep inside you a few minutes prior, “And slow down.”
“Yes, Sir, will do.” You smiled, the post-orgasm buzz consuming your body as you succumbed to the hazy feeling, “Thank you.”
He hummed, checking his watch, cursing, and wetting his lips, “Gotta head off, got another criminal like yourself to catch.”
You giggled, “I understand.“
You waited for him to turn on his heel and speed off in his Caprice—but, he kept his feet planted where he stood, before he lunged forward, his hands cupping your cheeks as he smashed his lips against yours once again. You gasped in surprise into his mouth, your hands darting to his forearms as you kissed him back frantically.
He pulled away with a sharp breath, “I’m Michael.” His voice a gentle whisper, “Here.” He let his hands fall from your face to dig into his back pocket, retrieving a small, rectangle piece of cardboard, before handing it to you, “I gotta go, but drive safe, girl.”
Without waiting for your response, he rushed away, turning on his heel and jogging towards his car—climbing in quickly, putting it immediately into drive, and speeding off into the dark. As the red and blue lights, one’s that originally had you panicking and sweating, now had you smiling deeply at the crude memories, sped off—you climbed back into your own car, flicking on the dim, amber roof lighting, and glancing down at the card. You laughed softly, running a hand over your warm face, clenching your thighs together as another dollop of his release slipped from your pussy, into your panties—what a night.
— SUMMARY: Michael’s sleeping over at your house for the first time without your family there. You decide to play a game and give him a taste of your favorite lipgloss.
— WARNINGS: sub!mike, fluff, dual loss of virginity, face-fucking, oral, fingering, protected sex, dry humping, premature ejaculation, scent kink (?), reader is a tease, reader is experienced, use of daddy to tease, manipulation (sorta), michael is lowkey a himbo LMAO, dirty talk, pleasure dom reader. jermaine feature.
— WC: 7.7k (let’s all act surprised).
— A/N: Loosely based on this request. Let’s pretend the strawberry shirt he has on in the photo is a pj shirt. Please leave feedback in the comments and don’t forget to like and reblog!
Michael was absolutely buzzing with excitement today. This evening, he’d be sleeping over at his girlfriend’s house for the very first time. The best part? The two of you would be completely alone.
He honestly didn’t know why he was so excited about the alone aspect of it all, though. It’s not like he was brave enough to do anything more than hold your hand.
The two of you had fooled around before, you mostly taking charge, but his brain got so fuzzy around you. Any sense of self or right and wrong would go out the window as soon as he smelled your honey glaze scented lipgloss.
He’d spent the day driving around and shopping with his brother Jermaine, making sure to pick up things you’d mentioned liking the last time the two of you browsed through retail catalogues. The fuzzy white comforter you imagined sprawled at the end of your bed, the cute pajama set he couldn’t wait to see you in, and the stunning golden charm bracelet from your favorite jewelry store, were all carefully strewn across Jermaine’s backseat, a cute enveloped note written to accompany them sitting on top of the pile.
“Mike, this girl’s got you whipped! You droppin’ 3 thousand on a lil’ bracelet?” Jermaine asked with an incredulous laugh after the two settled into his car, driving along the Santa Monica Pier.
“Maine, she’s not just some girl. She’s the love of my life,” he said with a wistful sigh. “Besides, 3 thousand is nothin’. I’d hang the moon and stars for her,” Michael responded earnestly. He’d do a lot for you for no reward at all; just the thought that it was something that convenienced you even a fraction was enough.
“See, this exactly what I mean. Doin’ all that for her and you haven’t even laid down with the girl yet.” The older brother laughed at Michael’s ‘yes man’ attitude toward you, finding the idea of his superstar brother being a total worm for you hilarious.
“We’ve done plenty!” he defended, not enjoying the idea of his older brother seeing him as less experienced for what he’d allowed himself to explore regarding his sex life.
“Like what?” Jermaine questioned, raising a disbelieving eyebrow.
“It doesn’t matter! And I don’t see relationships as transactional anyway. The fact that she even likes me is enough.”
A beat of silence settled over the car as Jermaine drove away from the boardwalk, pulling up the car’s hood as they approached a crowd of teenaged girls dancing to one of their older songs, not wanting to be recognized.
When they finally hit the freeway, Michael spoke.
“What do you do?”
“Whatchu mean?” Jermaine pressed.
“Like, how do you…start? Makin’ love, I mean.” Michael cleared his throat.
“We’ve done stuff before, I wasn’t lyin’ about that. But we haven’t gone all the way. She makes me too nervous, ‘n I’m scared of…I don’t want it to end so fast,” he rambled on, realizing Jermaine wasn’t going to interrupt him and was actually giving this some thought.
“You gotta just let it happen, man. I mean, I usually lay the girl down ‘n start kissin’ up on her, but I don’t see you bein’ the type to…” he trailed off in thought. “Just build up tension. Start givin’ her the eyes, ya know? She’ll get the hint.”
“The eyes? Maine, I can barely get close to her in the moment without goin’ dumb.” Michael wiped his hand across his face, trying to cool himself down before he started blushing.
“Here, how’s this?” Jermaine exited the freeway and began demonstrating what he meant at the red light.
“Take your hand, place it on her shoulder like this, look her up ‘n down from her lips to her eyes, and give her a lil’ smirk. She’ll know.” He accelerated on the gas pedal as the light turned green.
“O-okay. Yeah that seems easy enough,” Michael responded shyly.
“Don’t bring this up to anyone else, Maine. I’ll kill you,” he added, realizing how vulnerable he’d gotten. He’d never hear the end of it from Marlon if this got out.
At exactly half past 5, Michael was ringing at your doorbell, your gifts and his belongings in tow. He told Bill he was spending two nights at your place, reminding him not to be seen by your neighbors during his patrols, and basically flew to your doorstep.
You opened it almost immediately, seeming just about as excited as he was, and plastered your lips onto his in an intimate kiss- too intimate for your front door.
“Hi, my pretty boy. Let’s get you inside, yeah?” you greeted him, noticing the way he flustered up at the nickname.
“Yeah…” he said with a ditzy grin across his face.
“O-oh! I got you these gifts!” he announced with pride. He was carrying them and all of his belongings for the sleepover in one hand, determined to not let you help him carry anything.
You pushed the door wide for him to come in, knowing better than to offer to help him. He seemed to be moving without thinking, just taking steps by pure instinct. As he neared the staircase leading to the upstairs bedrooms, you could see the defeat dawn across his face.
“C’mon, baby. Lemme at least just carry one bag. I’m a big girl.” You took his duffel bag, presumably with his belongings, and led the way, not giving him a second to stop you.
He sighed dramatically and trailed up the steps behind you, his fingers that were straining under the heavier duffel bag feeling relief from the absence of its weight.
As you pushed into your bedroom, the scent of fresh linen and cinnamon wafted into his nostrils, a sudden comfort settling into his bones at the now familiar scent. You shrugged your robe off your shoulders, and Michael realized you were already in your pajamas. He took his duffel bag from your hands, sat down his belongings, and handed you your first gift.
“I’m realizin’ it’s probably too late for this now, but here! I have a feeling you’ll love ‘em.” He was practically vibrating in anticipation.
“I can’t believe you brought me gifts, Mikey. You’re so thoughtful.” You gave him a quick peck and opened the gift box. Inside sat the pj set you fawned over with Michael 2 weeks ago at your kitchen table. It was a red and white gingham two piece set with strawberry pockets on the butt of the mini shorts. The top was a lace-trimmed camisole that stopped just above your hipbone and was see through around the flowy skirt of it. And it was perfect.
“Oh, Michael! I’m putting this on immediately, are you kidding? This is perfect! Thank you so much.” You grabbed him with both hands by the face and littered his burning cheeks in kisses.
“It was nothin’. Here, open the others!” He was eating up your reactions. You jumped up and down at the blanket and tried to pick him up and spin him once you saw the bracelet.
“Hey, let go!” he’d declared in protest with a surprised chuckle at your strength.
“Put it on me, baby,” you told him, breathless, as you let go of his torso.
With a shy smile, he followed your demand mindlessly.
“Do you like it?” he asked, knowing you did. He just wanted to hear you say it.
“I adore it. The first charm I’m gonna buy will be a little ‘M’ just for you. Wouldn’t that be so cute?” you asked him, twisting your wrist around in the warm lighting of your bedroom.
“You’d do that?” he asked you, genuinely surprised by the act of possession.
“Of course! I’d tattoo your name across my chest,” you responded with a quick kiss to his lips as you made your way to your restroom with your new pajama set in hand.
The idea of you tattooing his name on you filled him with a sickening amount of pride.
You stepped back into the room almost as quickly as you left it, and you looked unreal. The cups in the top held your breasts up in just the right way, and the sheer, flowy bottom of it put your torso on full display for him. The shorts were no better. You gave him a twirl, and when his eyes met your backside, he nearly fell at your feet. Your strawberry-adorned ass was sitting prettily in the fabric, the bottom of your soft cheeks on full display for his greedy eyes. You turned back around and sauntered over to him.
“You look perfect,” he complimented you with a dumb smile.
“Hmm, do I?” you teased him as you unzipped his jacket for him.
“Yes, perfect…” he said, losing his train of thought as his eyes fell to the barely-there neckline of your top. He absentmindedly let you pull the jacket off, completely distracted by the view in front of him.
“Get comfortable, baby. I’m gonna go get us popcorn and oj. Then I’ll pick a movie. How’s that sound?” you asked him, knowing he was barely even paying attention.
“Hmm? Yeah, sounds great…” he responded, not able to find more words.
“Michael. Shower. Now.” You turned on your heel and walked with an extra bounce in your step, purposely doing so to make your ass move a bit more as you stepped. He drank it all up and unpacked his stuff in a daze.
He realized he forgot to bring his own body soap, and reveled in the idea of using yours. He couldn’t wait to smell like his girl. It was all he thought about during the 15-minute shower as he lathered up, scrubbed his body, and rinsed off. He brought his own lotion and toothpaste, disgruntled by the idea that he had no excuse to use yours. After he finished moisturizing, he left the room with a small smile, and placed his clothes into your hamper.
He saw you sitting comfortably on the soft carpet at the foot of your bed, your robe on your shoulders and a deck of cards sat in front of you alongside your snacks. You’d brought 2 big slices of homemade pizza, a bottle of tobasco, wet wipes for your hands, and two water bottles, alongside the share-size bowl of popcorn and two glasses of orange juice you’d mentioned. Bambi was in your VCR displaying the main menu, waiting to be played.
He approached you quietly while holding his breath, his mind going crazy at the sight of your legs crossed in front of you. They were making him nervous. He loved your legs.
You looked up at him and a cocky smile spread across your lips.
“You found a matchin’ shirt, huh?” you pressed your index finger to his torso as he sank down next to you, finding the idea of him searching for something to go with your sleep set cute.
“Oh…Yeah, is the matchin’ too much? I just wanted to…” he trailed off, unable to find any excuse that didn’t expose his intentions.
“I love it, baby. We look cute together.” You wrapped your arms around his neck and gave him a kiss on his jaw. A shiver ran down his spine.
“Eat. I just got this out of the oven, so it should still be hot.” You picked up his plate of pizza and handed it to him, watching with a devious glint in your eye as he obeyed your command. He said a quick prayer, blew the slice, and took a hearty bite while looking deep into your eyes.
“Thank you so much. It’s really good,” he said earnestly, covering his food-filled mouth as he spoke.
“Thank you. Now eat up. I’m gonna start the movie and we can play cards while we watch, when we’re done with the pizza.”
You did just as you said and so did he, eagerly at that. You’d think he didn’t have a brain for his own with the way he just did whatever you told him to. He was wrapped tightly around your pinky finger, just how you liked him.
After you beat him for the fourth time at Go Fish, the movie long having ended, you had him help you bring down your empty dishes and soiled wet wipes downstairs to clean and get rid of.
“I have a game I wanna play,” you stated casually as you handed him the soapy pizza pan you just washed. He rinsed and dried it immediately.
“What is it?” he asked with a little too much enthusiasm. He would do anything if it meant being in your presence.
“It’s…not really an official game. Just somethin’ I sorta made up. You’re gonna like it though.” You said the last sentence as an order, not an assumption. His stomach turned with excitement at the sternness in your voice. “Finish rinsing and drying these and I’ll go brush my teeth ‘n set it up for us. You also brush your teeth when you’re done.”
You left him to the task and hurried up the stairs. You were much more excited than you were letting on tonight. You’d went on a little shopping trip yourself, earlier, spending spent the day at different makeup and department stores meticulously picking out an assortment of flavored lipglosses and chapsticks. You wanted to try them all on and have Michael guess what each flavor was after kissing you. The thought came to you after a particularly vivid dream of him begging you to wear your honey glaze scented gloss while you fucked. You decided you wanted him to be like that after any scent he ever smelled from there on out.
After brushing your teeth, you took off your robe and then laid all of the lip products evenly on your fluffy carpet, and placed your black eye mask beside them, waiting patiently for your boyfriend to leap up the stairs.
As he made it inside your room from your bathroom, having entered it from the hallway, he took in your position and the random scene in front of you, lifting an eyebrow.
“What kinda game is this?” he asked, sounding almost frightened.
“It’s a chapstick challenge. I put on a layer of one of the glosses or lip balms, and you guess the flavors by french kissing me,” you responded with a dazzling smile.
“K-kiss…Okay.” He was already losing it by the mere idea of the game. “And I wear the blindfold?” he inquired.
“Yep. No peeking, understand?” you said, faux seriousness laced into your voice.
“Yes, ma’am,” he responded, only half jokingly with the honorific, with his left hand to his temple in a fake salute.
You placed the blindfold over his thick afro, leaving it up just above the eyes, before giving him a kiss. You pulled away and bit your lip at the dazed look on Michael’s face.
You got up- slightly bouncing your ass again- to turn on the record player sitting on your bedside dresser, and adjusted the volume to a comfortable background hum, setting the ambience.
You plopped back down in front of him, and he looked at you hungrily, licking his lips and trying to ignore the lust growing in his abdomen.
“Can I know the flavors, please? Or am I going into this blind?” he inquired.
“We’ll do 7. They’re pretty easy to guess, so I’m making you go in blind. You’re fine with that though, aren’t you baby? You’ll be the best guesser ‘cuz you’re just so smart, right?” you cooed at him, knowing the way you spoke to him would get him to move a mountain for you if you told him to.
“Y-yeah I’m…It’ll be easy.” Bingo.
You pulled the mask over his eyes and opened the first chapstick, the pop of the lid unsealing catching his surprise since his non visual senses were heightened. Cherry. Easy. You applied a generous layer and rubbed your lips together as you inched toward his face.
You pressed your lips to his harshly and he got to work immediately. His tongue explored your lips much longer than it should’ve. This was one of the easiest flavors to guess, by far. He was being greedy. You pulled away with a pop, smirking at his neediness.
“Ch-cherry?” he asked, like it wasn’t obvious.
“You sure you don’t wanna search some more? That was one of the easiest. You could’ve been more sly about it,” you said teasingly.
“‘M s-sorry. I just love your lips…” he trailed off, embarrassed.
“I’m just teasin’. Of course it was cherry. One point to you! Good job, Mikey.” His lip twitched at the praise.
Peach was next. It wasn’t too hard, but the scent threw off the flavor; it smelled like mango. That was the exact reason you chose it. The ambiguity left room for more.
You repeated your earlier ministrations of application, and kissed him again, this time scooting a little closer to his body. You even cupped his jaw with your hand, eliciting such a soft whine, you were almost convinced you misheard it.
The kiss was longer this time, but purposely. You even took the opportunity to pull at his hair the tiniest bit, smiling against his lips as he made a surprised sound at the back of his throat. He pulled away this time, out of breath.
“That one stumped me. It smells way different than it tastes. I’m gonna guess somethin’ fruity…Peach?” he guessed.
“You got it!” you responded, genuinely surprised. “That one was one of the hardest ones. Didn’t it smell like mango?”
“Yes, that’s what that smell was! It confused me bad.” He chuckled softly, as he reached his hand out toward you, searching for your waist. You reached out to his hand and guided it to where he wanted it, biting your lip at the contact.
This flavor was watermelon. You applied the sticky balm to your lips and smacked them loudly, warning him of your impact this time. He met your lips with ease and immediately got to sucking and licking. His free hand cupped the back of your neck and he deepened the kiss, sliding his tongue past your lips and into your mouth. He moaned when your wet muscle met his, then pulled back, chest heaving.
“Just been waitin’ to do that. I know it was watermelon,” he announced proudly.
“Someone’s gettin’ a lil antsy, huh?” you responded, trying to conceal your bated breath. His lips faltered at the teasing, trying and failing to find an excuse.
“It’s okay, baby. I like when you get desperate.” He bit his lip and covered his face with his hands.
You reached for the next lip balm, this one being cinnamon flavored. He loved cinnamon, which was the reason you bought it. You lathered it on and pulled his hands away from his cheeks, meeting his lips once more. You decided to turn it up a notch by placing his hands right under your breasts and sliding a hand onto his chest, feeling his heart hammering pathetically under your touch, and throwing one of your legs over his. He gasped slightly and pulled you closer, his fingers holding you with a firm grip.
You led the kiss this time, almost forgetting you were playing a ‘game.’ You bit his lip and sucked his tongue just enough to make him squirm, and pulled away.
“What flavor?” you asked him smugly, staring at the slight sheen of lipgloss scattered about his chin and mouth. He didn’t respond, mouth still slightly hanging open with a dazed grin.
“What’s the matter? Cat gotcha tongue?” you continued teasing.
“No, I…You make me forget things,” he admitted sheepishly.
Scratching his neck while keeping one of his hands on your body, he continued.
“Well, I definitely know that was cinnamon. That’s my guess.”
“I knew you’d get that one. I thought of you specifically when I bought it,” you admitted. You poked his nose and absentmindedly applied the next gloss. It was one you already owned and the two of you absolutely adored. Honey glaze.
You smacked your lips one more, letting yourself taste the flavor as you did so, and settled yourself fully on top of his lap now. You felt how hard he was and ground against him languidly once. He whimpered at the contact immediately.
“Aww, my baby’s getting this turned on just from kissing? What am I gonna do with you?” you cooed at him, your breath fanning over his lips. His dick jumped immediately.
“Oh. You’re wearing my favorite…honey glaze.” His knowledge surprised you.
“You peeked, didn’t you?” you questioned him suspiciously.
“N-no! I just…I love the smell of this one. I can recognize it anywhere. Please kiss me,” he whined.
You leaned in and the kiss turned sloppy immediately.
He gripped your waist hungrily with both of his hands, and rocked up into your crotch desperately. You moaned against his tongue as he licked your mouth inside and out, drool sliding down your cheek.
The both of you got incredibly lost in the moment, allowing your need for each other to bubble up sporadically. You ground harshly against his erection and sucked his neck, leaving a bruise in its wake. He moaned once really loudly, and his hips jerked against yours. Then, his hands flew from your waist and ripped the blindfold off of his face.
“‘M sorry. I need to use the restroom,” he quickly mumbled out. He gently slid from underneath you, then made a beeline for your bathroom door.
“Mich-” you called after him breathlessly as the door shut.
“Damnit,” he mumbled as he pulled down his pants. His cum sat proudly against the fabric of his boxers, much to his annoyance. He grabbed a wet wipe and cleaned his crotch wildly, the cold wetness making him shiver. He couldn’t believe he let himself go like that. Sliding his underwear off, he internally cursed himself for being so embarrassing. He washed his hands and entered the room again, his head hanging low and his underwear balled into his fist. He put it inside your hamper and then sat on the edge of your bed without a word, avoiding your gaze.
You knew exactly what happened, and it made you cocky.
“Mikey, baby. I know you came your pants,” you announced crudely. You sat down next to him with a wicked smile tugging at your lips.
“It’s embarrassing. We didn’t even do anything…” He sniffed in shame.
“Baby, it’s flattering. I’m glad to know that you get that horny for me,” you replied. You gripped his jaw, forcing him to look you in the eye.
“It’s not…Well, yes. I do get…aroused by you. But it’s your lipgloss. The smell…It makes my brain numb,” he admitted.
You removed your hand and bent over right in front of him to pick up the honey glaze scented gloss from the carpet, purposely nudging your butt against his knee as you reached down. You turned back around and waved it in his face tauntingly.
“This lipgloss? My favorite one?” You opened it and applied another layer. Setting it down on the bed, you placed your hands on either side of his legs and inched toward his face.
“The smell turns you on?” you asked, letting the scent waft around his personal space. He whimpered loudly.
“Yes,” he spat out, shoving down a heavy gulp. He could already feel himself getting hard again, and his eyes trailed down your torso, straight to the curve of your breasts, which were more visible due to you being bent over.
“You checkin’ me out?” you asked him mockingly.
His eyes snapped to your face as if he got caught doing something wrong. You sat back down next to him and stared at his bottom lip, which was being cradled between his teeth.
The way you were looking at him, like you were a predator hunting its prey, made Michael’s heart hammer so loudly against his chest that he swore you could hear it.
Then, a voice echoed in his head.
Start givin’ her the eyes…Take your hand, place it on her shoulder…look her up ‘n down…
He followed each direction as it played in his mind, his sudden confidence faltering your own in its track. Then, he gave you the sexiest smirk you’d ever seen.
…Give her a lil’ smirk. She’ll know.
“Do you wanna fuck me?” you asked him straightforwardly. He flinched a bit at how direct your words were.
“Yes,” he sighed. “B-but only if you wanna! I don’t…It has to be your choice.” What he really wanted to say was that he wanted you to use his body like he only existed for your pleasure.
“Then fuck me, Michael. Rip my clothes off and plow me into my sheets.” You slid your thumb across his bottom lip and tugged it down. He stared at you like a deer in headlights.
“You gonna touch me, or what?” you asked, cocking your head to the side in fake confusion. You knew your words were scrambling his brain, and you loved it.
“Y- sorry. Um.” He fumbled with his hands, not knowing where to touch you or place them. He felt like an idiot. You’ve engaged in sexual acts before, but he felt out of his league now, the looming state of his virginity making everything much more serious.
“Go get a condom from my dresser. Top drawer,” you ordered him. He obeyed and picked a small foil wrapper from the unopened Trojan box. He secretly thanked God at the sight, realizing you hadn’t recently been using them with anyone else, although he already knew that.
He held the foreign object in his hand and stood between your parted legs.
“C’mere,” you said before pulling him down by his neck and making out with him like you hadn’t been allowed to for a century.
He cautiously explored your body with his large hands, continuing certain gropes and squeezes when you gave him louder whines.
His body was now hovering yours, propped up by his forearms, and you could feel his heavy dick slap against your crotch through his pants as he went to kiss tenderly on your neck.
“I’m not wearing any underwear either. Wanna feel how wet I am for you?” you asked him lewdly.
“Please,” he begged, letting you take his hand and place it square on top of your clothed pussy.
He could feel you pounding beneath his palm, and he felt that familiar slimy substance connecting his hand to your core. He rubbed two of his fingers into you a bit, collecting some of your arousal. Detaching his mouth from your neck, he looked down at you with a dazed expression. With his free hand, he gently gripped your face, making you look at him.
Without a word, he removed his hand from your sex and sniffed his fingers greedily. He bucked his hips into yours, and shoved those fingers into his mouth with a loud groan.
You were in awe.
“I had no idea you were this filthy. Thought you were a good boy, but I guess you’re way dirtier than I thought,” you told him with surprise etched into every word. Your statement only made him needier. He shoved his fingers farther into his mouth and pulled them out, searching for your cunt again.
“Please, let me take these off. Wanna feel you,” he begged, a mixture of drool and your arousal collecting at the corner of his parted lips.
“Go ahead baby. Show me how much you want me.”
With a whimper, he crawled down your body and landed on his knees with effortless agility. He hooked his fingers into the top of your pajama shorts and froze.
“I-i’m a virgin,” he stated, voice barely above a whisper.
“Michael, I know. We’ve talked about this plenty of times,” you responded patiently. You knew he was nervous, but you also knew he wanted this.
“I know, it’s just that…I’m not gonna know how to do everything. I don’t wanna embarrass myself,” he replied meekly.
“Baby…I know you think I’m some sex god, but I’m still a virgin too.” You sat up and looked down at him, forcing him to meet your intense gaze. He looked stunned.
“It’s okay if you’re not. You don’t needa lie to me to make me feel bet-” You interrupted him by clamping your hand over his mouth.
“Michael, I’m not lying. When I told you before we ever did anything sexual that I had experience, that wasn’t a lie either. I’ve just never trusted anyone to go all the way. But I trust you and I want this with you. Don’t you wanna give it to me?” you asked him with a faux-sad pout.
“Of course! I wanna be your first…I want you to be mine. And my last. I wanna give my soul to you,” he rambled, inching your shorts down your thighs as he leaned in closer.
“I can’t believe you’re letting me..” he spoke quietly, mostly to himself, drifting off once he unclothed your lower body. He threw the damp shorts onto the floor and looked up at you with so much gratitude that it made your heart swell.
“Taste me,” you said, as you watched him lick his lips like he was starving.
He placed your thighs atop his shoulder and delved in, immediately grinding against nothing at the scent of your pussy.
“Mmm, th-that’s right. Just how I taught you before,” you spoke to him. He was circling your clit with his tongue with expert precision; just enough to feel like you were floating, but not enough to feel like you were grinding against a rock. Then he did something else you taught him, but with his own twist. He scratched up and down your thighs, the familiar sensation making you feel like music. But then, he slid his tongue down to your entrance and stuck it in, your arousal pooling around it in the act.
“F-fuck. Where’d you learn how to do that? Been seein’ someone else?” you inquired, only half joking. He pulled out and looked up at you with an earnest fire in his eyes.
“Never.” Then, he continued his actions, fucking his tongue into you as far as both of your anatomies would allow.
You pushed his head into you, grinding down with need. His afro acted as a protection against your brutal shove. He slid his tongue back out and worked your clit again, feeling confidence settle into his demeanor. So much confidence, he took two fingers, collected your arousal into them, and slid them into you. You cursed loudly.
“O-oh my god…F-Yeah! Curl them like that,” you mewled, your brain not knowing how to compute your pleasure into words. You’d only felt your own fingers inside there, once or twice, and you didn’t enjoy it. Your fingers couldn’t reach as far as his currently were, though.
You fell back against the bed as you felt your orgasm sprinting toward you faster than you anticipated, gripping onto your sheets and locking your ankles around Michael’s neck in an attempt to hold on.
“M-mikey, ah. Stop. Stop, stop, stop,” you breathed out to him, feeling the knot in your stomach almost unravel. He immediately withdrew his mouth and fingers, you arousal leaving a string of connection to his chin as he did so.
“Did it start to hurt? Sorry, I just thought you were gonna have an or-”
“I was gonna have an orgasm. I just don’t want to yet. I wanna suck that pretty dick of yours first. You’re gonna let me, right?” you asked him, not really leaving space to take no for an answer.
Michael never let you suck him off, to your own disappointment. He’s eaten you out so many times that you’d run out of positions for it, he’s let you grind against his dick with clothes, he’s even let you jerk him off, but he’s never let you get on your knees and put your mouth on it. His exact words were that it was ‘degrading and useless.’ He didn’t wanna hurt you. But you wanted to see him let go. You wanted the proof of your lewd acts with him physically etched into bruises to the back of your throat.
“Baby, I can’t let you do th-” You clamped your hand against his mouth once more.
“You’re gonna let me suck you off. Right?” you asked, slowly moving your hand away from his mouth.
“Ok-kay,” he responded with resignation in his voice.
He stood up and you slid his bottoms off, licking your lips at the sight of him. He was holding out on you because god was it pretty. And big. You thought he was just being a modest gentlemen when he told you he didn’t want to hurt you, but it was more than just that. He was really long, and he knew it.
“So you knew how big your dick was huh? That’s why you never let me do this. Betchu imagine me sucking that pretty thing off all the time.” You reached for it greedily and spit onto his tip, watching it slide down the base slowly.
“Stop- d-don’t talk about it like that..” he said weakly.
“Oh but you like it, though. I could practically feel you getting harder, baby. No need to be shy about it,” you egged him on. Before he could protest any longer, you wrapped your hand around his base and began tugging upward. You reached for your lipgloss with your free hand and applied a thick layer to your swollen lips. You blew a taunting kiss at him. He was visibly holding back his moans, much to your disapproval.
“Nuh-uh, let me hear those pretty moans. Sing for me, Michael,” you directed. He obeyed, and not even on purpose. The way you were touching and talking to him made him forget who he was.
“Feels s- you feel so good. I love you..” he blabbered.
“I love you too, baby.” You leaned forward and gave his shaft an open-mouthed kiss, maintaing eye contact with him. His whole body went rigid in shock as he saw the sticky mark your lip product left in its wake.
“Oh, god,” he groaned, jerking his hips up into your hand. You started twisting it whenever you got closer to his tip.
Without warning, you took it into your mouth, eyes focused on his, and sunk down on it. His eyes rolled back and his hands flew to the back of your head, holding it for composure. You began slowly moving up and down, flattening your tongue and sucking him like he was the best popsicle you’d ever tasted.
“Pl-ease, I don’t wanna cum yet. Plea-, please, please,” he begged on and on, turning please into a chant.
You hummed around his length, ignoring him, and continued to work. Tears stinged at your eyes, and drool dribbled out of your mouth. The sinful sight of you made him do something he swore he wouldn’t do. He rocked into your mouth roughly, just once, but it was enough to make you falter and gag against him. You moaned lustfully and your eyes lolled to the back of their sockets. He removed his hands from your head and scooted back from your mouth with a pop.
“‘M so sorry! I should’ve contained myself better. I know better. Did it hurt? If course it hurt, you’re crying and you gagged. Oh, God I’m so sorry prett-” You gripped onto his dick harshly, cutting him off.
“Michael, I want you to do that. I love it. Fuck my mouth, angel face. I can take it,” you reassured him with a devilish grin.
“N-no, I shouldn’t’ve let you touch me like that. You’re too precious…I can’t hurt you agai-”
“Michael. For the love of God, shut the hell up. I want you to hurt me and bruise me and make me cry. Is that not okay? Am I too dirty for you?” you asked him, feigning hurt. You secretly enjoyed tricking him into getting what you wanted because he somehow always gave it to you, and this time was gonna be no different.
“Not at all! You could never be too dirty for me…You’re perfect. I just don’t wanna degrade you like that. But since it’s what you want, okay. I’ll give you anythin’ you want.” Bingo.
“M’kay, now you gonna fuck my throat like a good boy, right?” you asked him with puppy dog eyes, tears still sitting in your waterline.
“Y-yes,” he responded hesitantly.
“Yes, what?” you asked him, enjoying working him up like this.
“Yes, angel. I-i’m gonna fuck your face…like a good…boy?” he responded, sounding more like he was trying to convince himself than he was you.
You gave him a soft hmm and pulled him back towards you, spitting a glob into your hand once more. You jerked him slowly 4 times and then looked him in his face.
“Don’t worry about me, ‘kay? If I want you to stop, I’ll make you stop. But, I trust you,” you said earnestly. “C’mon, stand up and give it to me, baby.”
Then, you opened your mouth, sticking your tongue out in anticipation. He hesitantly stood up, jerked himself twice, and then pushed into your mouth. Holding the back of your head gently, but firmly, with both of his hands, he set an inexperienced pace with his thrusts. You hollowed your cheeks and sucked harshly whenever he would drag his hips back, causing his legs to shake.
“Th-this is so, AH, wrong. You shouldn’t look this pretty like this. With my…thing in your mouth.”
You scrunched your brows into a pout and moaned loudly, forcing him to unconsciously fuck your mouth harder.
“B-baby you can’t do that, ‘m gonna finish if you do.” You continued moaning and sucking loudly, noticing his breaths shorten as his climax neared.
“God, you’re so pretty d-down there. Ngh- wait-” You forced yourself away from his crotch and crawled to the center of your bed, positioning yourself on all fours. You turned around and coaxed him over to you with a teasing finger.
“Baby, I need you. See how wet I am?” You arched your back and swayed your hips side to side, letting the light catch your arousal. “I need you to make me feel better. It’s aching,” you pouted. His feet were moving before his conscious mind could register your words, and he joined you in bed. He picked up the condom he mindlessly dropped earlier and unwrapped it.
“I-i’ll make you feel better,” her says as he pulled the rubber from its foil packet.
You turned around and took the contraceptive from him.
“Let me put it on you, daddy,” you smirked as you said the nickname.
“Don’t call me th-that,” he pouted.
You placed it on his tip with unnecessary friction and rolled it down his shaft, raising your eyebrows and smirking at the pathetic boy in front of you.
“Mmm, but you like it when I tease you with it,” you told him.
“Okay.” He gulped audibly and leaned down to press a hot kiss to your lips. “I love you.”
“I love you too, Michael. Now fuck me like you need it,” you said as you went back to your position on all fours. You were almost scared that he’d be too big, or that you’d need lube that you didn’t have, but as soon as he pushed his tip in, your pussy sucked him in. It was an unfamiliar feeling, being stretched like this, but your body didn’t register too much pain. You were drenched.
“Oh god, oh god, oh god,” he called out as your sex squelched around him, forcing him in deeper. You moaned out as he stretched and filled you. As soon as he bottomed out, he laid on top of your back, already feeling overwhelmed.
“M-michael! Oh my god, ‘m so wet. Needed your dick inside me so bad, fuck,” you inched forward and slammed back against his length forcefully, arching your back in the process. He sat up immediately and gripped onto your hips.
“The way you talk…” he trailed off as he started thrusting into you slowly.
“You like m-my dirty mouth, baby? Want me to talk to you through it, pretty boy?” you asked him, feeling his tip hit your g-spot with ease.
“Yes, please,” he whined, speeding up slightly in anticipation.
“F-fuck me harder, baby. Feels so good.” You pushed your head into your mattress, arching your back up higher, allowing yourself to take him deeper. He followed your instructions and snapped his hips into you harshly once, gauging your body’s response to the action. You pushed your ass further into his crotch, and he took that as silent permission.
“Mikeyyy. You’re so bad, taking my virginity in my bedroom like this. Mmm-fuck,” you whined, your vision going blurry with tears of pleasure.
“Y-yes, so bad. ‘M so bad,” he repeated, slamming into you faster. Your bed was creaking with his thrusts. He could already feel himself losing it again.
“Mmm, mmm, Mikey p-push my head into the mattress baby. Be rough.”
He obeyed immediately, leaning over and pressing his palm to the side of your head. He took one look at your face and felt his orgasm creeping up. Your mouth was wide open and there was a huge wet spot where your mouth leaked drool onto your sheets.
“You’re so pretty, baby. You look so good like this,” he complimented.
“With you plowin’ me into m-my own sheets? Thank you, baby boy.”
Your tongue licked at his thumb that was near your lips, and you sucked it into your mouth.
“OH! I’m g-onn…I’m cumming. Shit, I’m cumming!” he cried out as his hips stuttered. He buried himself into you deeply and filled the condom with his seed. He collapsed his torso onto your arched back and you bit his thumb. He clutched it after you spat it out of your mouth.
“I didn’t say to stop, did I? I thought you were a gentleman. Make me cum,” you demanded.
“Yes, baby. ‘M sorr-y…” he apologized in between whines of overstimulation.
You reached your hand down to your clit and started playing with it needily, overeager to cum on him. He pounded into you again, his dick half hard, as you started babbling into your bedsheets.
“Mikey, ‘m s-so close. Keep fuckin’ me like that, baby. You’re doin’ so well for me. You’re fillin’ me up so good.” The sound in the room was so unmistakable. The noise of creaky box springs, skin slapping and sticky arousal drowned out the hum of music leaving your record player.
He leaned down and hovered over your ear, whimpering into it. He sounded like an undiscovered instrument. The sound made your pussy squeeze against his shaft, signaling your orgasm.
“Y-yeah be louder. Love your filthy little whimpers, Michael. Gimme more,” you said with the last of your breath. He pounded harder and fully moaned into your ear, causing you to completely come undone.
You reached behind you and dug your nails into his sides as your legs shook and your pussy spasmed around his spent dick, already hardened again. You screamed his name like a prayer and Michael wished that was the only sound his ears would ever be subjected to again.
As you began going limp, Michael slid his arm underneath you, wrapping around your waist, and pulled out of you. He rolled into his side and pulled you on top of his chest, ignoring how hard he was again.
“I’m so glad it was you,” he said after he caught his breath.
“Hmm?” you asked him, looking up to the side of his face.
“My virginity. I’m glad you took it. It feels like you were exactly who I was waitin’ for whenever I would tell my brothers I was waitin’ on the right girl. No, you’re even better,” he said bashfully.
“Well, I’m glad you took mine too. You were absolutely perfect. I’m so glad we get to share this memory with each other. We fit so well together, don’tcha think? Like two halves of a puzzle,” you mused with a faint smile.
“I’d say so,” he said with a gulp loaded with a double meaning.
“Whatcha mean by that, baby?” you questioned him.
“Just…It’s like your body was swallowin’ me whole. It was incredible.” He bit his lips as he looked you in your eyes. You felt a pulsing at your abdomen, finally noticing how hard he was.
“Ohhh, my baby’s ready for round two? You have stamina…Good ta know,” you teased him with a giggle.
“‘M sorry, you just look ‘n sound so pretty when you’re tellin’ me what to do…”
“It’s okay, baby. Here. Let’s go take a quick shower, yeah? Then we can sixty-nine,” you said as you sat up on your knees. You gave him a wink. He gulped both audibly and visibly.
“Oh, yes please. I’d love that,” he responded with unconcealed enthusiasm. You pulled him behind you and led him toward the restroom, the excitement of round two noticeable in your light steps. You discarded your shirt and pulled Michael’s over his head for him.
“Take off that condom, baby. I’m gonna wash you up.”
He threw the soiled condom into your tiny tin trash can, and trailed after you like a puppy.
You turned on your shower and faced him, your tits on full display to him now. He swallowed loudly and gave a kiss to each of your nipples, surprising you in the act.
“I love you,” he whispered, and then leaned in to give you an intense kiss. His tongue slotted between your lips before you pulled away.
“Uh-uh. Don’t start something you can’t finish in here, needy boy. I’ll make it worth the wait.”
You stepped into the shower, him immediately after you, and the two of you let a comfortable silence settle in the air, washing yourselves and then each other’s backs.
With the two forgotten lip balm flavors lying lazily on the floor, the promise of your newly broadened sexual history etched into the empty house with a faint trace of a sweet scent. The scent of honey glaze.
𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 working michael through his urges was your fixation.
𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞, 𝐫𝐢𝐬é (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶) enjoy this little blurb while i was wine drunk (the best kind of drunk)
𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 𝟏.𝟗𝐊
Late at night in Michael’s quiet Hayvenhurst home, the two of you were wide awake with no intention of falling asleep anytime soon. You completely organized his cluttered room with him, finding space for all of his fanmail, posters, drawings, and his own albums. This was something you did with him often, making a part of his room a piece of you—leaving behind clothes and little knickknacks from your own apartment.
Nowadays, it seemed like you were never at your own home—spending every hour with Michael at every waking moment meant that he never had the “time” to pick you up from your apartment, and just insisted that you stay with him all the time so he wouldn’t have to miss you so badly.
You both were completely spent from moving everything around in Michael’s room, and you crashed on the memory foam mattress close to you, falling backwards onto it. Michael watched you do this and chuckled, watching your chest rise up and down from all the heavy breathing you were doing.
“S’ gettin’ late, mama. Can you stay tonight?” Michael asked, the tinge of begging in his voice never failing to convince you to do anything he wanted. It was late though, and the last thing you wanted to do was go back to your apartment and be alone, when you had all the access to another warm body right in front of you.
“I’ll stay, but give me a new shirt to sleep in, Mikey. M’ all hot nd’ sweaty.” You obliged, watching the man go through his drawers to find you a simple tshirt to fall asleep next to him in. He scurried around all his clothes to give you a plain white shirt, and carefully watched you undress.
Your body was something so holy to Michael. Every part of you was treated with such grace when it came to him, and he never missed a spot when he made love to you. Your body was one of the most gorgeous things he’d ever seen, and considering you were his first girlfriend, he knew that he had to treat you to a higher standard than anyone you’d ever been with before.
You took off and discarded your old shirt slowly, pulling the fabric over your head and onto his floor. All that was left were your shorts and bra, and no matter how many times Michael has seen you naked, whenever you stripped in front of him, it still made him extremely nervous.
Your tits were spilling out of your bra as it is, and when you unbuckled the back of it for more comfortability, Michael lost it. You saw him watching you with his bottom lip tucked inside of his mouth, scanning your body with precision. You smiled at him innocently, but it only drove him crazier.
You put the shirt of your head, and tugged your shorts down your legs. Whenever you went to sleep, you never wore much to bed—and it was always like that when you slept over Michael’s house. He liked feeling the warmth of your body, not always sexually either—just the coziness of your figure up against his made him turn off his brain.
You climbed into his bed, and got cozy under his blankets. You tapped the side next to you, signaling that he had no other choice but to come lay his body next to yours, because without him beside you—you would never get any sleep.
He walked over to you slowly, trying to get in bed with the clothes he’s had on all day. “Shirt off, Michael.” You demanded. Even though Michael had his insecurities, you never failed to reassure him of his beauty—and that is the reason he was never scared to show his body around you.
He pulled his shirt over his head, some of his curls frizzing up in the process. He got in bed next to you, but you couldn’t shake the dazed look on his face the entire time you laid next to him.
You rubbed circles on his chest, trying to soothe whatever mess was going on his mind, but nothing to work.
At least that’s what you thought.
Michael was going insane after seeing you half-naked like that earlier. It didn’t matter how many times he’d fucked you into oblivion, the sight of your body made him so erect that it physically hurt. He’d been staring at the ceiling trying to take his mind off of it, but feeling your fingertips rubbing his chest was not helping his case.
“What’s the matter, baby? What’s on your mind?” You questioned, laying turning your body to the side to look at him.
“S’ nothin’, baby… let’s just tryn’ go to sleep.” He nervously chuckled, knowing that he wasn’t fooling you at all, but he had to try.
“Don’t get all quiet on me, honey…c’mon, baby, what do y’ need?” You plead, sitting up against the headboard now. Michael was learning to finally talk to you about everything that was going on with him, but there were times where he’d continue to shut you out, even though that’s not what he intended to do.
He closed his eyes, a little embarrassed that he couldn’t contain himself around you, and even though you always took care of him, you still made him tense. The first time the two of you made love, he completely froze when you spread your legs for him, and it took a minute for you to get him to snap out of it.
“I don’t wanna talk about it, Tink. M’ good… get some rest.” Michael begged.
You started to put two and two together, and based on his reaction, you knew that deep down the problem was that Michael was horny. He hated admitting it, even though in your eyes it was nothing to be embarrassed about—you had no problem letting your beloved boyfriend know when you needed him to handle you. But Michael, he was timid—and getting a confession like that out of him took more than begging him to talk to you about it.
You had to physically get the reaction out of him.
“No, baby… I don’t think you’re good.” You said, seduction laced in your voice. You slowly slid down under his blankets, leaving just enough room for air, and to watch his face as you did what you had to do.
You’d never sucked Michael off before, just because he felt that it would put you in too much of a vulnerable position, but that was the least of your worries. You wanted to please your man in any way that you could, and giving him this would help ease the tension in his mind.
His body was on edge, and as you ran your hands along his waist and down to his boxers, he didn’t say much—he just let you.
“I really wanna suck it, baby. Can I?” You urged, your eyelashes fluttering at the man above you. He looked down at you, and nodded his head.
“Don’t just nod at me, Michael. Use your words, baby, Y’know better.” You begged, running your hands along his bulge.
“Okay, okay… but I wanna see all of you. Not just under these blankets.” Michael asks, his dick twitching at your touch.
“And that means?” You tease, knowing exactly what it meant. Michael wanted another chance to worship you, and seeing your whole body in full view is what gets him there every time.
“Can you get on your knees f’me, mama? Please?” Michael begged, his voice shaking.
You agree, and Michael sits up against the headboard. He turns his body around to sit up straight on the edge of the bed, and you sink to your knees. You thought the process would be more fun if you stripped again, so you deliberately removed his shirt clad to your body, and the bright beams of the moon above cascaded down the arch of your back.
You pulled down Michael’s boxers, and the inches he had on him used to intimidate you. Now, you know exactly how to use all of him to your advantage and his, and every session the two of you had was pure bliss. It was girthy while still maintaining its length, but you were confident that you’d use your mouth to satisfy him.
“M’ nervous, mama. You’ve… you ain’t never done this before—I don’t wanna hurt you.” He says, his eyebrows knitted on his forehead.
“I’ll let y’ know if it’s too much, baby. Relax, and let me do this.” You insisted, taking one of his hands already gripping the sheets into yours.
You started off slow, you slid your hand up and down against his shaft, just to get it going. Then, you kissed his tip, the beautiful brown shade that you adored so much, and all the way down to the bottom of his dick. Michael was so anxious all the time, but you could see in his face that he was enjoying himself.
Michael’s dick stood thick and hard before you, his veined shaft pulsing faintly with anticipation, and the swollen head already glistening with a bead of precum.
“Mm—goodness, girl. Yeah, that…that feels nice.” He admits, his fingers threading into your hair.
This was only the beginning.
You finally put your mouth on him, taking in as much as you could. Your throat felt endless when it came to Michael’s dick, and all of your saliva covering it was turning him on more than ever.
Your hand wrapped around the base, squeezing gently, and you opened your mouth wider. You took him inch by inch, your lips stretching around the girth, tongue pressing flat against the underside as you sank deeper. The wet heat of your mouth enveloped Michael completely, your cheeks hollowing as you sucked.
You bobbed your head with a steady rhythm, taking him to the back of your throat before pulling back with an obscene pop. Your saliva continued to slide down his shaft, dripping down to coat her fingers as you stroked him in time your mouth.
“Oh shit, mama. Feels so good.” Michael moaned, his hips bucking involuntarily as you took him deeper again, relaxing your throat to swallow around the head, the tight constriction making Michael’s eyes roll to the back of his head.
“I knew you’d like it, Michael.” You moaned, and it was absolutely filthy. Your eyes were watering slightly but you never broke contact. You worked him faster now, sucking harder–and your head moved with wet, slurping sounds that filled up his bedroom. You were praying no one heard the two of you–considering how loud Michael’s whimpers and groans got whenever he was close to his climax.
Your lips were swollen and shiny, sliding with ease up and down Michael’s glistening shaft, while you twisted your hand around the base with just the right pressure.
“M’ gettin’ real close, beautiful. Where do y’ want it…?” Michael pleaded with you, because he was throbbing. He was close, every nerve alight. You could feel it in the way he was swelling around your tongue, and getting him like this made your core blaze.
“Back of my throat, baby. Mm–need it.” You teased, a wicked smile in your eyes. You doubled down, starting to suck him relentlessly, your mouth a perfect, velvet vise of heat and friction until Michael’s grip tightened in your hair. He spilled down your throat with a deep, guttural groan, and you swallowed every drop. You milked him through his aftershocks with lazy licks until his body was spent and trembling.
You pulled off with one last kiss to his sensitive tip, and licked your lips as you looked up at him.
Michael Jackson x popstar!reader
Summary: Michael goes to your concert only because Janet won't take no for an answer, expecting a night of bubblegum pop and nothing more. Then you sit down with a guitar and cover a song so old that almost no one remembers it's his song. He falls in love somewhere between the first note and the last, and never quite finds his way back out.
Tags: strangers to lovers, mutual admiration, tooth-rotting fluff, romance, no smut
1989
"You'll like her," Janet said, for the fourth time since the car.
"You said that already."
"I'm saying it again because you're making the face."
"I don’t even know what that means," Michael said, continuing to make the face. He pulled the cap lower over the sunglasses he didn't need and slouched deeper into his seat. Janet looked at him with annoyance but also satisfaction, because she had succeeded in talking her big brother into coming to this concert.
She'd been playing your album for weeks, in the car, in the kitchen, humming it throughout the whole house, and when she found out you were touring the US and your last show would be in Los Angeles, she hadn't asked Michael to come. She had just informed him that they were going.
He'd said no, and Janet had looked at him, and he'd said he was busy, and she'd kept looking at him, and now he was sitting in a curtained box on the loge level with Bill standing at the rail with his arms crossed, and one more of the security guys posted by the door.
Nobody had looked at them twice. At least his disguise worked.
"You could at least try enjoying yourself," Janet said while rolling her eyes.
"I am enjoying myself. This is my enjoying face."
He wouldn’t admit this to his sister, but he’d made up his mind about the show before it had even started. He tried not to do that, he genuinely did, because he knew better than most people what it felt like to be summed up by people who'd never really listened.
But he knew your name, everybody knew your name that year, you'd been climbing the charts, you’d been on the radio between his own songs, and the singles were bubblegum pop through and through, bright and sweet and built to dance. Nothing wrong with that. He'd made records just for dancing too.
It was just that he thought he already knew the course of the evening: good hooks, big production, a fun show, the kind you enjoy and forget. You were around his age, which surprised people, since the music sounded younger. He settled in expecting a pleasant next two hours for his sister's sake, nothing more.
But all of those thoughts only lasted about one song.
It wasn't that the songs weren't bubblegum pop. They were (shamelessly), and he could tell the choruses would be stuck in his head tomorrow, which annoyed him. It was what you were doing with the music. You could actually sing, you had a real voice that held pitch through a full-out dance break and you could still hit those high notes, never once losing control of your voice.
And you owned the entire stage. The venue was nothing, he'd played to crowds that were three times this size before he could even drive, but you played it like it was Wembley, pulling the crowd up with your energy. The crowd belonged to you completely. Every person in the building was singing.
He glanced over at Janet some time around the third song and she was on her feet with her hands up singing every word like she was fifteen.
He caught himself leaning forward somewhere in the fourth song. Janet noticed and looked far too pleased about it, so he made himself lean back.
"She's good," Janet said, not even trying to keep the told-you-so face subtle.
"She's fine."
"You're leaning again."
He was. He stopped fighting it sometime ago and just watched. He liked watching people who were good at their job.
He noticed that you didn't do many slow songs, the setlist consisted of mostly upbeat songs, and he was starting to wonder whether you could hold the energy of the crowd without the tempo, whether there was anything under the bubblegum when the beat went away.
Then the band walked off, and someone brought out a single stool and an acoustic guitar and the venue became silent.
You walked to the stool calmly, settled the guitar across your lap, then adjusted the mic on its stand, and for a moment just looked out at the crowd.
"So," you said, and the word came out softer than your show-voice, "Tonight's the last night of the US tour."
The crowd roared and you laughed and ducked your head.
"And I wanted to do something special for it, just for tonight. I want to sing you a cover."
You picked at a string absently, perhaps a a nervous habit.
"But I have to explain it first, so bear with me. There's an artist I've adored for most of my life. And I mean most of my life, since I was small. He's the reason I do this at all. Everything I know about singing, about the stage and about kindness, I learned it from listening to him and watching him and wanting so badly to be able to do what he does.”
You smiled, your eyes looking somewhere far away. “Not just music, honestly. He's shaped how I think about, like, everything. Work and fame. What you owe the people who show up for you."
You paused, and then laughed sheepishly, one hand coming up over your eyes for a second. "Okay, I'm being so embarrassing right now. I promise I'm getting to the song."
The crowd laughed with you and up in the box Michael chuckled quietly too into his fist. Cute, he thought. Whoever the artist was, that was a generous speech, and they should feel lucky for being appreciated this much. He wondered if it was Stevie. It was usually Stevie.
"The song is a very old one of his," you went on. "He recorded it when he was still in his teens, which is crazy to me, given how emotional it is. It was never a big hit or anything, but it stuck with me. It found me at the right time and it has never once let me go, and I've wanted to sing it to you guys for years and been too chicken. So I’m going to do it tonight and I hope I do it justice."
There was a wave of warm applause for you and then everything went still.
Your fingers started on the strings soft and slow, and the melody lifted into the air before you opened your mouth, and everything in Michael went still.
One Day in Your Life. His song.
His song from 1975, from when he was only a boy of sixteen, maybe seventeen in a booth singing about a loneliness he hadn't even understood yet. A song buried so deep in his music catalog that people were surprised it existed. Nobody ever covered it, because nobody remembered it.
And… even as his chest started squeezing, there was no way he thought. He did the math in his head. There was no way you knew he was here right now. He'd only decided to come that afternoon, two hours before he left for the concert with Janet.
He'd told almost no one. He'd walked in with a cap and sunglasses. There was no way you could’ve changed your setlist on such short notice. You had planned this cover weeks ago and rehearsed it.
Janet leaned in, eyes still on the stage. "Did anyone know you were coming tonight?"
He shook his head. That was all he could manage.
Because you weren't performing the song. That was the thing he couldn't get past.
Every night somewhere in the world somebody covered his songs, imitations and tributes. Those were different.
But you were singing it the way it was meant to. Plain and hurting somewhere just underneath the sweetness of the words and when you sang, he could tell the lyrics were coming from a place full of ache inside you.
Fourteen years since he sang that song and suddenly he was in the booth again, suddenly he was that seventeen year old boy again, singing to a love he hadn't met yet about being remembered.
And there were lighters swaying somewhere below him, thousands of people hearing a sweet ballad, and one person coming quietly apart behind sunglasses he didn't need.
His eyes were burning. He didn't move to do anything against it.
The song came down to its last notes, the melody fading away and you sang the ending beautifully like a promise.
One day in your life
When you find that you’re always lonely
For a love we used to share
Just call my name and I’ll be there
And then your voice faded to almost nothing and the last notes came off the guitar gently and hung in the air.
He didn't think he'd even breathed in over a minute. The crowd was silent for one long second, before everyone applauded you and it was the loudest thing Michael had ever heard.
The venue lights came on and the crowd began its slow move toward the exits. Michael sat for a moment longer in the noise of thousands of people talking at once. Then he leaned over to Janet.
"Do you want to go backstage?"
She turned and looked at him, genuinely surprised. "Are you serious? I wanted to, but you were being such a baby about coming at all, I wasn't going to push my luck."
"I was not being a baby."
"You kept saying no."
He ignored her.
"The least I can do," he said, waving his hands in the air, "after she sang my song, is to thank her."
And before Janet could say anything else, he motioned Bill over from the rail and asked him quietly to arrange it. Bill nodded once and disappeared into the corridor.
They waited near the backstage entrance off to the side, and Michael kept his hands in his pockets. For some confusing reason he was feeling a little nervous. Something was fluttering inside his chest that had no business being there.
He met new people every day of his life. People were nervous meeting him, that was how it had been for twenty years. He couldn't remember the last time it had been the other way around. It’s just that some part of him felt like he was about to walk in and shake hands with someone who already knew him.
Your manager came out to collect them, a short man who could barely contain his excitement, shaking Michael’s hand. "I didn't tell her. She has no idea you're here. She's going to lose her mind, forgive me, but I couldn't ruin it."
The dressing room door was open and bright light was spilling out. The manager knocked twice and pushed it open.
"Sweetheart, you have visitors."
You were on the couch with a towel around your neck and a water bottle in your hand, still glowing from the show. When they stepped in, Michael could see the changes in your reaction one by one: the polite smile you had prepared for whoever it was, the confused pause, and then the recognition arriving on your face. Immediately you were on your feet so fast that you almost dropped the water bottle.
"Oh my God." Both of your hands came up over your mouth. "Oh my God. Hi! You were at my show?"
You were crossing the room towards them in an instant.
"Janet Jackson is in my dressing room. Michael Jackson is in my dressing room. Somebody should have warned me, I might just faint."
Michael chuckled. "Blame Janet. This was all her fault. She's been playing your record for a month. So naturally, I was dragged here."
Janet rolled her eyes. "He resisted the whole time."
"Although," he added, and he meant for it to come out in a joking way, but it came out sincere instead, "I'm glad I let her persuade me. I'd have missed an incredible show. You had that whole crowd in your hand." He paused for a second and smiled. "Thank you for singing my song."
You went still.
"You did an amazing job with it," he said softly. "That song is very close to my heart, and almost nobody remembers it, and you sang it like," he shook his head, searching for the right words, "like you knew every second of it from the inside. I felt every word. It touched me very much. I wanted you to know that."
You felt a blush creeping up your neck and you pressed the towel briefly over your whole face as you swallowed hard. "Thank you, that means more to me than I can say without crying,” you said, your eyes bright.
“And I’m a little embarrassed now because I gave that entire speech about you, while you were sitting there. I bared my whole soul in front of thousands of people and the one person I was baring it about was secretly in the venue.” You both laughed at that.
“But I meant every word. I've been a very big fan my whole life."
Janet clapped delightedly and that broke the room into laughter and made it easy.
Janet got her ticket signed and then she took polaroid photos with you (twice because the first ones were blurry), and by the end Janet and you were trading numbers and promising to get lunch together sometime, and Michael stood back and watched you laugh at something his sister said.
It was hard to fit the two halves of you together. This bright, bubbly girl with the towel around her neck, and the voice that had opened him up like a tin can. Same person.
When it was time to go, Janet hugged you, and he moved to do the same, and his nervousness spiked. He hugged you carefully and briefly, and you came up on your toes a little and squeezed him for a second. When you parted the tips of his ears were warm.
"Thank you again," he said. "For the song."
"Thank you for coming to hear it," you said. "Even though you were dragged."
He was quiet most of the ride home, which Janet did not comment on as she was getting tired herself.
And that night he didn't sleep. This wasn’t unusual. He had a complicated relationship with sleep, but this was different, this wasn't his mind that couldn’t shut off.
He lay in the dark feeling ridiculous. He was seventeen years old again.
I meant every word.
The feeling in his chest wasn't restlessness at all. His heart was simply too full to fall asleep.
–
And when he still couldn't shake you days later, when you kept arriving in the middle of his thoughts like a song he couldn't stop humming, he finally went and asked Janet for your number. She wrote it out slowly, watching him the whole time with a knowing look and said nothing, which from Janet was the loudest thing she could possibly have said. He called you that same evening, and you picked up on the third ring, and by the time you both noticed the time, three hours had gone by.
And when he took you on your first date, a drive up the coast and dinner somewhere small where nobody thought to look for either of you, he reached across the table somewhere in the middle of a story you were telling and took your hand quietly. You didn't stop the story. You just laced your fingers through his and kept going, and he didn't hear anything you said after that. Later he walked you to your door with your hand still in his because neither of you had wanted to let go first.
And when he kissed you for the first time it was at the end of an evening that neither of you wanted to end, the two of you lingering by your car. You had just laughed at something he said with your head tipped back, and he leaned in and kissed you softly, and when he pulled back you stood there with your eyes still closed and whispered okay, wow, and he laughed so hard he had to kiss you again just to stop.
And when he told you he loved you for the first time, it slipped out on an ordinary and quiet night, the two of you standing outside on a cool evening with your arms wrapped around yourself. He just looked at you and said I love you, and you went pink instantly, and hid your face behind your hands. He laughed delightedly, and reached up to pry your hands gently away, then opened his coat and wrapped both sides of it around you, pulling you into his chest. You tucked yourself against him and mumbled I love you too into his shirt, muffled and shy, and he smiled into your hair.
And when he asked you to record a duet with him one night, you went still and quiet, and then you asked if he meant it, and he nodded, and you let out an incredibly loud squeal that was sure to wake up all the animals at the ranch. He picked you up and spun you once around the room while you laughed and swore at him to put you down, and neither of you could stop grinning through a single take that whole first week.
And when the world got loud, because his world always did, you'd disappear together up to the ranch, just the two of you. And somewhere in those slow afternoons he'd hand you the guitar, and ask you to sing it. His song. Your song. And you'd roll your eyes and blush, and sing to an audience of one man sitting cross-legged on the floor like a boy, watching you like you'd hung the moon in the sky. And when you reached the ending, he'd lean over and kiss the last line right out of your mouth, because it wasn't a promise anymore. He was already there.
I hope you liked this oneshot, I had a lot of fun writing it, especially the last paragraphs that start with "And when (...)", it's a different writing style from what I usually do, so I hope you liked it!
omg bye i need to write a fic based off a costume designer reader slowly buckling these up for him teasingly and then they both go feral on one another 👅👅👅 can you guys tell im ovulating
∘⡊ - OTW!Michael who is secretly a freak. Walk with me. (PLEASE tell me if you see the vision).
You move onto his street and when he sees you outside sweating in a pair of very short shorts, and a crop top he almost loses it. All he can picture is the way you'd look gagging on his cock . He practically skips over to your house and introduces himself. He asks if you need help with the myriad of boxes. You agree thanking him for being so kind. Michael knows how he comes off, all innocent and naive. He uses that to his full advantage.
It starts with a hand on your waist, a firm but gentle grip that leaves you hot. Then he'd ask you why it was that you'd moved out to Encino, without breaking eye contact. Michael's eyes bore into your own, and make you nervous. At one point or another, he'll ask why you man didn't help you today, and when you tell him you don't have one, a Cheshire grin will breakout on his face.
you had tried everything to make him give it to you rough, but nothing ever worked. you had tried making him mad, hoping a spark of irritation would finally make him snap.
you threw your hands up in the air, letting out a frustrated breath as you stared at the takeout containers. “i said i wanted tacos, not burritos!” you snapped, your voice echoing loudly in the quiet kitchen. michael stopped in his tracks, his jaw clenched slightly as his curls fell forward, a rare flicker of annoyance crossing his gentle eyes before he let out a heavy sigh. “baby, please... the man at the counter must've mixed up the order.” he said, his voice dropping into a deep register as his black loafers slid against the floor. “you really don't needa be yelling at me.” you rolled your eyes in response. “no, michael, you had one job!” you huffed, spinning around to grip the edge of the counter as you furrowed your eyebrows at him. “why do you keep doing this? just feels like you're always getting mad, no matter what i do..” he muttered right to himself, crossing his arms. “m' tired of the attitude, y/n. if something is bothering you, just say it.” you opened your mouth, a desperate confession about your sex life burning at the back of your throat, but you caught yourself at the last second, biting your lower lip hard to hold back the words instead.
you had even tried to put his hands in places he usually wouldn't put them.
shifting your weight, you straddled his hips, your eyes locking onto his as you looked down at him in the light of the bedroom. without breaking eye contact, you reached down and grabbed both of his hands, guiding them up the length of your body until they rested against your neck. you wrapped his fingers around your throat, leaning into the grip to make your intentions clear, desperate for him to choke you. for a split second, his grip around your neck tightened as his jaw clenched, his hips thrusting faster and harder up into you. your heart raced as you whimpered, genuinely thinking this method had finally worked to make your rough fantasies come to life. but before the pleasure of it could even consume you, a low chuckle left from his throat as michael pulled his hands back down, his grip wrapping securely around your wrists instead to pin them against his chest. a knowing smirk forming across his face and his eyes crinkling at the corners with amusement as he leaned up, proving your method to fail by pressing a soft kiss right against your forehead.
you pulled on one of his oversized button down shirts as you slid out of bed, your feet making no sound against the floorboards while you walked down the hallway toward his office.
this was a last resort.
you were so desperately horny, so consumed by the need for him to be rough with you, that you were willing to do anything to make it happen, even make up a story.
peeking in through his office door, you saw him sitting behind his desk, immersed in his work. the sleeves of his white shirt were rolled up to his elbows as he looked completely out of reach, only focusing on whatever is on the page, and that familiar, frustrating distance started to pick at you again.
you pushed the door open fully, the wood creaking softly as michael's rhythm of his typing slowed down, acknowledging your presence without breaking his focus. “thought you were asleep.” he mumbled.
you crossed the room slowly, the hem of his shirt brushing against your thighs as you stopped right beside his chair, leaning your hip against the edge of the desk. the lie burns at the back of your throat, born out of desperation to rattle him.
“i was just up thinking about yesterday..” you said, your voice quiet as you broke the silence. “i ran into an old friend from high school.. haven't seen him in years.”
“oh yeah?” he asked, his voice smooth, though he still hadn't turned his head to look at you.
“mhm.” you continued, the lie rolling off your tongue as you started to picture how he would react if he actually believed another man wanted you. “he looked really good.. he's been working out a lot. i could tell.....”
slowly, michael leaned back in his office chair as his large hands rested on the armrests. when he finally turned his head to look up, his eyes tracked your expression as he let the silence stretch for just a moment longer.
“nd', why are you telling me this, baby?” he asked, his tone casual, but you could see the way his jaw clenched in frustration.
“because he invited me to dinner..” you glanced away, thinking of another fabrication. “just wanted you to help me choose to what to wear.”
you kept your eyes fixed on the far wall, an innocent shrug lifting your shoulders as the lie slipped effortlessly past your lips. you could feel the raw heat of his gaze boring into the side of your face but you refused to look back at him just yet.
you wanted to let the words hang in the air, wanting him to sit with the mental image of you dressing up specifically to go out and see another man.
michael paused, the quiet in the office growing so heavy you could hear the faint tick of the clock across the room. “to choose what to wear..” he repeated slowly. his voice didn't rise, staying in that low register before he finally stood up, his tall frame immediately intimidating you.
he took a step toward you as he tilted his head, his eyes locked onto yours with a confusing intensity that made your heart race.
“you want my help picking out an outfit for another man, y/n?” he asked, stopping right in front of you. he reached out, his fingers gripping around your chin to tilt your face up, forcing you to look at the possessive spark burning in his eyes. “is that really what you asking from me right now?”
yes, yes, yes! your mind chanted in a crescendo of validation. the thrill of seeing him this affected made you want to push the button just one more time, convinced you had him exactly where you wanted him.
instead of backing down, you let a teasing smile touch your lips. you leaned just an inch closer into his space, your eyes locked onto his.
“mhm..” you whispered, your voice dropping into a quiet challenge. “i just couldn't decide between the blue dress or the short black one. i mean.. he always loved me in black back then..”
michael's hands moved around your waist as he lifted you off your feet and sat you down onto the edge of the his desk, scattering the loose papers beneath you with a rustle.
he stared down at you, his eyes reading every part of your body, the way your pupils dilated when he leaned in, the shallow catch at the top of your breath, and the twitch of your bottom lip. he looked straight through the facade, breaking the walls of your lie by reading your body language.
“i know what you're doing.” he tilted his head, his voice low and level against your lips, leaning in closer. “you're tryna make me mad again.” he whispered, his eyes locking onto yours, watching the exact moment the realization hit you that you hadn't outsmarted him at all.
you let out a big sigh, rolling your eyes before leaning back onto your palms to face him directly, accepting the fact you'd never get your fantasy. “fine. you're right.”
his eyes looked down at you with nothing but patience and genuine affection. “now.. why are you tryna make me angry all the time, baby?” he asked softly.
“because...” you started, the word barely a breath as you stared down at the buttons of his shirt. you figured there was no harm in just admitting it as you swallowed hard, your voice dropping into a quiet whisper that would be inaudible if he wasn't listening properly. “because i just wanted to make you mad so.. so youd'd be rough..”
above you, a low chuckle escaped from his lips, his eyes crinkling at the corners with affection as he slid his hands down to rest on your waist.
“mama..” he smiled, his voice laced with a humor as he tilted your chin back up to look at him. “y'know how long i was waiting for you to say that?”
his thumbs caressed your jawline, his smile fading just an inch as his gaze darkened with heavy heat that made your breath hitch.
“i knew what you were doing, y/n..” he whispered, leaning in until his lips brushed against your ear. “wanted you to look me in the eyes and ask me properly.”
you sat frozen against the edge of the desk, the weight of his admission hitting you all at once. the realization that he had seen through your attempts, the kitchen, the bedroom, the made up story, made your face burn with a combination of embarrassment and arousal.
michael pulled back just enough to look down at you, his eyes locking onto yours with a heavy intensity that made it impossible to look away. his hands tightened on your waist, his fingers digging firmly into your hips, holding you still in the space between his thighs.
“so go on..” he leaned his weight forward, his chest pressing against yours as his jaw clenched slightly. “keep using your words, baby.”
your breath hitched, your fingers twisting into the fabric of his shirt as you looked up at him with pleading eyes. “please, michael.” you whispered, the word trembling past your lips. “please, be rough with me.”
his thumbs rubbed small circles into your hips through the his shirt, the touch grounding despite the heat radiating from his skin.
“always been gentle..” he whispered, wanting to make sure you were certain, giving you one last chance to pull back before he let go of his control. “i won't hold back if i give it to you like this.. y'know that?”
“mhm.” you breathed out, your voice small as your fingers tightened their grip on his shirt. “don't hold back, please.”
the last lingering trace of his hesitation disappeared the instant the words left your mouth, a dark intensity taking over his features as he finally caved in to your rough fantasies.
his large hands tightened on your hips, lifting your weight off the wood and shifting you until your knees held you against the oak of the desk. he pushed you down by your shoulders, forcing your upper body low until you were on all fours, exposed and arching beneath the figure of his frame.
“stay right there.” he growled as he stepped back, your breath caught in your throat as he reached down, his fingers immediately going to the front of his trousers. the sharp sound of his belt buckling open and the slide of his zipper echoing loudly in the quiet office, right in front of your face.
you stared ahead, your heart racing as he pulled the fabric down, exposing the thick length of him just inches from your lips. despite how long the two of you had been together, despite every single intimate moment you had shared in his bed.. you had never given him a blowjob, had never given anyone one before, and he knew that.
the realization of your own inexperience, mixed with the vulnerability of facing this specific part of him for the very first time, left you shocked.
you stared up at him with wide eyes, the unspoken confession hanging heavily in the space between you as you looked at what he was demanding.
michael returned your gaze, his eyes taking in the sudden stillness that came over you before he reached down, his fingers tangling firmly into the hair at the back of your head.
“wanna do this first..” he mumbled, his grip tightening as he leaned his hips forward, brushing the tip against your lower lip. “you gonna lemme rough up that pretty face of yours?”
his fingers were tangled tight in your hair, holding you, leaving you with nowhere to look but right at his heavy member he was pressing against your mouth.
“yes..” you whimpered against his skin, your lips parting slightly as you looked up at him through your lashes, surrendering to his command despite being inexperienced. “please, michael.”
his jaw clenched tight as his fingers tangled deeply into the hair at the back of your head, his grip firm as he began pushing your head up and down along his length, forcing a slow rhythm.
the sudden warmth of him filling your mouth sent a sensation of heat straight to your core. your eyes watered instantly, hot tears spilling over your cheeks as you tried to accommodate his size, but the intensity of the pleasure was intoxicating, you choked instantly.
“that's it, choke on me.” michael growled, his voice dropping into a raspy register you had never heard from him before. his hips jerked forward to meet your mouth, his other hand digging hard against your jawline to keep your lips wide. “such a good girl, taking it all.”
the raw, dirty praise left you breathless, hearing him talk to you like this, discarding his usual sweetness for something so dirty, turned you on so much that a needy whimper escaped you, your thighs trembling against the wood of the desk.
he continued to not give you a second to breathe, his hand at the back of your head keeping up the fast pace. his hips snapped forward in a steady rhythm, driving himself deep against the back of your throat.
“look at you.” he whispered hoarsely, leaning his frame over you as he pushed your face down deep against his groin. “using that pretty throat.”
the pace slowed for a second as he fisted his fingers tighter into your hair, firmly pulling your head back up. the thick length of him slid past your swollen lips, exposing it to the air of the office once more, glistening in the dim light.
you gasped out loud, drawing a ragged breath into your lungs as your chest heaved, your eyes were glassy with hot tears spilling over your cheeks in heavy streaks, not from pain, but from the suffocating rush of pleasure crashing through your entire body.
michael paused just enough to look down at your ruined face. his eyes burned with an possessive heat, taking in the sight of you before his thumb swept across your wet cheek, smearing the tears into your skin.
“don't cry, mama.” he growled low, his voice a deep vibration that only made you more wet. “not when you're doing so good for me.”
before you could even say a reply, his hand at the back of your head guided your face right back down, burying his hips forward to drive himself deep into your mouth again. you choked out a muffled whine against him, your jaw aching slightly as your lips stretched to their limit to take him all back in, your throat swallowing down his thick length.
with your upper body pinned low against the scattered papers on the desk, your hips remained helplessly turned up toward him, exposed. raising his free hand, michael brought his large palm down with a sudden crack right against the skin of your plump ass.
the sharp sting of the smack echoed loudly through the office, making your legs twitch against the oak wood. a muffled sob caught right at the back of your throat, completely trapped by his depth as he immediately resumed the heavy rhythm, using his frame to completely dominate you and force you to take every single inch.
you were clinging to his thighs, your fingers digging deep into his trousers as you actively pushed your face forward to meet every single brutal plunge, hooked on the aggression of his size filling your throat.
michael felt the eager shift in your behaviour, the way you were swallowing down every inch, taking the rough treatment like a slut just for him. a low groan escaped from his throat, his fingers fisting even tighter into your hair as he pulled your face back again, his hot length glistening as it slid past your wet lips to give you a second to breathe.
“your first time, hm?” he panted out, his dark eyes burning down into yours with a mix of fierce possessiveness and disbelief. “your first time, and you're taking all of it?”
you nodded desperately, the movement rubbing your cheek against his thick groin. your chest heaved as you looked up at him through your tear stained lashes, consumed by him.
“you're the only one... the only one who has done.. t-this to me, michael.” you moaned out, your voice completely wrecked and dripping with needy pleasure.
“fuck, y/n... m' gonna cum.” he choked out once he heard your desperate voice. “lemme use that pretty throat again.”
you lowered your head back down, swirling your tongue around the tip before forcing his entire length in your mouth once again. he let out a moan, his hips locking tight against your face as he came, his cum flooding the back of your mouth. you swallowed down the heavy load instinctively, your eyes wide and fixed on his as you took every single drop of him.
the silent aftermath of his release vanished as the raw possessiveness in his eyes flared right back to life. michael looked down at your ruined face, his breathing still ragged, but the hard set of his jaw told you he was nowhere near done with you.
you attempted to sit up and get off the desk before his hand pulled your hair back.
“no, mama. you're staying there.” he whispered before his large hands gripped your waist, lifting you to shift your position. he didn't let you off the desk. instead, he pulled your hips right to the edge of the desk, forcing your legs wide apart and draping them over his broad shoulders, exposing your dripping core to him.
you looked up at him through your lashes, your chest heaving against the scattered papers as your fingers clawed into the wood for balance. the vulnerability of the position left you breathless, but seeing the intense dominance in his eyes made your body pulse with a desperate heat.
his body pressed down as he aligned himself against your center before he began to slide inside, entering you with an agonizing slowness that made every single nerve ending catch fire.
your head immediately threw itself back against the wood of the desk, a long moan escaping out of your chest as your back arched off the scattered papers.
the width of him stretched you open inch by inch, filling you so deeply that your hands clawed blindly at the edges of the desk just to stay grounded. even though you had done this before, it had never felt this good.
“look at me.” michael commanded as he kept up the slow entry, burying himself all the way to the root until your bodies slammed together.
you whimpered, your eyes fluttering open to find his gaze burning down into yours. you were full, trembling from the stretch of his size, but the look of dominance on his face made your core pulse tightly around him.
the gentle friction left as his thrusts picked up speed, his hips snapping forward with an aggressive force. each deep plunge drove him harder and faster into you, the rhythmic sound of skin slapping skin echoing loudly as he completely took control of your body, forcing you to take the exact roughness you were craving.
you were completely at his mercy, your head tossing blindly from side to side as the intensity sent rushes of overwhelming pleasure crashing through your body. you loved how rough he was being, your voice breaking into needy sobs as you took every single inch of his frame.
michael felt the desperate contractions of your walls swallowing him down, his eyes darkening further with lust. keeping one hand gripping around your thigh, he raised his other hand and wrapped his fingers around the front of your neck.
his palm was heavy and hot against your skin, holding your upper body still to the desk. the possessive weight around your throat turned you on so much that a choked moan caught in the back of your mouth as you parted your lips.
“yeah? you like this, mama?” he asked hoarsely as he stared down at your ruined face. his grip on your neck remained firm, guiding you through the chaos of his movements as he thrusted m faster into you, his hips slapping hard against your open thighs. “keep taking it like the good girl you are.”
"m-michael... please.." you whimpered out, your voice broken as your body continued to bounce helplessly under his relentless pace. the tight friction inside you was becoming too much to handle, a big wave of pleasure building inside of you.
your fingers clawed frantically at his arm, your hips twitching against the wood of the desk as your orgasm threatened to release.
“m' gonna cum.” you sobbed out loud, your eyes wide and glassy as you stared up into his gaze, exposed and undone. “michael, m' gonna-“
hearing your wrecked confession only made his jaw clench tighter, a grin twitching at the corner of his lips as he picked up the pace, his thrusts becoming even more brutal and deep.
he remained silent, the only sound in the room being the harsh drag of his breath and the slaps of his hips against you. his fingers tightened possessively around your neck, holding you down to the desk as he drove himself into you with a punishing rhythm.
the roughness broke you completely. a loud cry ripped from your lips as your walls squeezed down around his thick length in a uncontrollable climax.
but the moment the initial contractions hit, he still didn't give you a second to recover. he kept going, his hips driving forward with the exact same relentless force.
a sharp whimper left your mouth as a completely different sensation took over. your walls were still twitching, hyper sensitive and raw from the release, making every single deep plunge of his hips feel ten times more intense.
“m-michael, i came-“ you cried out, your voice completely wrecked as tears streamed down your face.
“i know.” he said as he leaned in closer, his thumb sweeping a heavy trail across your wet cheek before his hand slid down from your neck, tracing a burning path down your chest and stomach. you were trembling uncontrollably, your thighs shaking against his shoulders as your body pulsed with the sensations of your orgasm.
“want you to cum again, ma.” he murmured, his voice dripping with possessive affection.
you gasped as his fingers found their way between your bodies, his hand slipping down to find your sensitive clit. the moment his thumb made contact, a sharp whine left your lips, your head snapping back against the scattered papers on the desk.
he began to rub you with a teasing pressure, syncing the touch with the friction of his hips driving into you. a fresh wave of pressure ignited deep in your belly, turning the overwhelming overstimulation right back into desperate, pleading need as your hips began to lift instinctively to meet him.
“so good.” michael groaned, his breathing harsh against your ear as his hips slammed against yours, burying himself inside.
you threw your head back against the wood, a string of broken, needy whimpers escaping from your throat.
“michael-“ you choked out, your voice completely broken as your hips lifted off the desk as you bit your lip.
the intense squeeze of your walls instantly made michael orgasm as he locked his hips against yours. a breathless groan ripping from his chest as he came, his thick heat shooting deep inside you.
the moment his breathing began to steady, he shifted his weight, pulling his thick length out of your dripping core with a wet slide that made you whimper at the sudden loss of fullness.
before you could even sink down into the scattered papers to rest, his hands gripped your hips, flipping you over onto your hands and knees right there on the smooth oak wood.
“up.” he commanded, his voice low as he grabbed your waist, pulling your hips high into the air and pushing your chest down flat against the desk.
your cheek pressed against the cool wood as you looked over your shoulder through your lashes. michael was standing right behind you, his eyes burning with desire as his hands slid down to grip the sides of your thighs, pulling you firmly back against his groin.
a loud moan escaped your lips, your fingers clawing at the edges of the desk as the depth of the position filled you completely, stretching your core past its limits.
“fuck, always wanted to do it like this.” michael choked out, his hips snapping forward with raw power, each deep plunge drove him hard against you as your entire body bounced forward and back under his heavy weight.
keeping one hand locked around your waist to hold your hips, he reached up with his other hand, fisting his thick fingers deep into the hair at the back of your head.
with a firm tug, he pulled your hair back, forcing your head up as a muffled whimper escaped from your throat at the sudden restriction, your eyes watering as you were forced to look up blindly into his empty office.
the angle opened you up completely, allowing him to drive even deeper into your core, he recognised this and immediately acted on this position by snapping his hips forward with force.
“tell me how good it feels.” michael ordered, his breathing ragged as his fingers gripped your hair firmly, keeping your head tilted back. “tell me whose body this is, mama. say it.”
“m-michael... so.. so good.” you sobbed out, your whole body was shaking, overwhelmed by the depth of his thrusts and the tight grip in your hair. “it’s yours... m’ all yours.”
“damn right you are.” he muttered darkly, a satisfied growl escaping him as his fingers left your hair, his palms moving down the curve of your back before his hands gripped hard around your waist, holding your trembling hips in place.
he paused his rhythm for just a split second, his chest heaving before he brought his palm down against your bare cheek, a stinging slap echoing through the quiet room. the sudden heat of the impact made you cry out in pleasure as more warmth pooled between your thighs.
before you could even catch your breath, he struck you again on the ass, the heavy rhythm of his hand matching the dark look in his eyes.
“you like that, don't you?” michael groaned his voice rough and completely unrecognizable as he thrusted back into you. his fingers bit even tighter into your waist, lifting you slightly as he picked up the pace.
the combination of the stinging heat and the depth of his thrusts pushed you straight to your third orgasm. your fingers locked against the oak as a shattered sob tore from your lips, your walls squeezing around him once again in tight waves of a climax.
michael let out a low grunt as he felt you snap, his frame locking up completely. he drove into you more time, pinning your body down against as he came inside.
slowly, the fog of lust began to clear from the room as michael’s breathing gradually slowed, his chest rising and falling in deep breaths against your skin.
as you slowly pushed yourself up on your weak arms, michael stepped back, his dark curls falling messy over his eyes. his gaze drifted down your body, and he suddenly froze, his large eyes widening as they landed on the distinct handprint marks blooming sharply against the skin of your cheeks.
“oh god, y/n...” he whispered, his voice cracking slightly as he immediately stepped back in, his warm palms hovering an inch away from the marked skin, terrified to touch you. “baby? are you okay?”
you let out a soft chuckle, your body still beautifully sore and tingling from the intensity of it all. turning around slowly, you reached up and wrapped your hands around his wrists, pulling his palms down to rest against your waist as you looked up into his worried eyes with a satisfied gaze.
“yes my baby. m’ okay but now you have to kiss me all better, okay?” you giggled, a teasing smile tugging at your lips as you he hid his face in the crook of your neck, lifting you up gently.
