🐆💋 — otw!michael sits on the edge of your bed, watching you pace around your bedroom as you look for some pants. your sheer babydoll dress he got you some months ago barely covers your dark areolas and the panties you had on. you had your curlers in your hair and your hair wrap on. the big fan that had been in the right corner of your room, facing your bed, blew against your body to keep you cool. michael’s sweet brown eyes got lost on your body, his hands rubbing up and down on his thighs while not paying attention to the tent that appears in his pants.
you, your friend group, and michael planned to go to the skating rink tomorrow and maybe catch a movie afterward. your dilemma at the moment is looking for a pair of jeans that would go with your shirt, a pair of jeans you swore you had. you turn your head to michael, your expression focused as you kept looking for the specific jeans. “michael as much as i love your company, imma need you to get up and help me.” you complain. michael holds in a laugh, and tries to cover himself by leaning forward.
however, your eyes glance down at the tightness of his jeans, his boner begging for some loving. you bite the gum of your left cheek as you raise a brow. “mikey?” you try to hide the tease in your voice, but your eyes glisten at how shy he becomes. michael tries to look down at the ground, feeling slightly mocked at the way your legs and thighs look in your nightgown. you get closer to michael, your hand going under his chin, pushing his head up gently, your thumb brushes over his cheek as you tilt your head to the right. “you okay?” you mumble, his eyes glisten, feeling ready to tear up. michael nods and breathes out heavily, the embarrassment coming all over him.
“yeah, i’m cool.” he looks at your boobs, his breath hitches as you lean down, your lips brushing over his. “just say you miss me, why act like you can’t.” you get on top of his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck as you pull him closer, his chest smushed against yours. “thought we agreed i would take you out on a date before we did this again,” michael mumbles, trying to hide the excitement. you scoff and look at his shirt, “I think we miss each other a little too much to wait that long.” you mumble before kissing him, your hips move back and forth, your pussy presses into his crotch as the both of you moan. michael swears he could cum all over in his boxers by you grinding on him, and he has, you just make him cum even more when you get to cleaning with your tongue.
I’M CTFU 😭 michael was talking BIG SHIT about jackie in ‘up on the house top’ I’M FUCKING SCREAMING AND HIM SINGING THAT SHIT LOUD AND CLEAR LIKE OH MY 😭 THAT’S HOW YOU FEEL? FOR REAL? he crunching on them damn lyrics like marlon in the ‘blame it on the boogie’ mv 😭
ik michael’s jolly ass was happy to sing them lyrics, you can hear that shit in his voice 😭💀💀💀
i might get beat up for this but i immediately log off the minute a fic writer makes reader kid like, why is that grown ass woman acting like a two year old? WHAT? i get like babying your s/o at times cause it’s funny or whatever but to be treated like a child and not a GROWN ASS PERSON? that don’t creep you out? or when reader and a character are GROWN ass people and the writer got the love interest calling reader ‘kid’ WHO IS THE CHILD IN THIS CONVERSATION? QUICKLY.
🐆💋 — pope follows you everywhere you go, how can he not? you’re so gorgeous, you have him in the palm of your hands and you don’t mean to. you’re a sweet person, always inviting him over to binge-watch your current favorite show, teaching him random recipes whenever you feel like cooking. currently, his favorite is peach cobbler. really, you make that during thanksgiving or family gatherings but for him, you’ll make it whenever. you also enjoy showing off the new clothes you bought, you enjoy shopping and buying out jewelry stores, safe to say, no store is safe from you. which is funny because store managers and employees love you so much, not necessarily for the fact that you spend money but because of your kind personality.
every time pope sees you, you’re in a different fashion piece, he’s so obsessed with the way your tight dresses fit around your thick thighs and thick waist. he wishes he could push you against the wall and eat your pretty pussy, needing to test out how loud you can really be. then your heels, your heel collection is starting to be bigger than your walk-in closet but you don’t mind and neither does pope. one day, he came over, sunglasses on, and plywood pressed against his big thick arm. pope goes into your kitchen, finding his drill he purposely left. you had on heels and a short dress that stopped at your knees that kept riding up, pope tried to ignore the way he loved how you kept fixing it.
“pope, do you have to fix this?” you complain as you walk upstairs, he follows behind, seeing the way your dress rides up, your lace panties showing. he clears his throat and looks down at his shoes, “yes, and wouldn’t you like another shelf in your room?” his voice is so soft, your knees feel weak. the two of you go to your room, pope looks around it, eyeing all the things he can replace and buy you next. then, he starts working, the shelf being planned to be right next to your vanity that he made a month ago. you sit down on the edge of the bed, watching him, his muscles busting out of short sleeve shirt and thick thighs that looked so delicious in his jeans.
you love the little grunts he makes, your legs stretched out as your oiled body looked so sexy from the sunlight that shone through your windows. pope tried to keep most of his attention on your shelf but every time you asked him a question he couldn’t help but look at you, he thought about how he could come over, you sitting on your bed like a good girl, waiting for him to ease that ache in your pussy. he’s wondered if you ever thought about how good he could be to you if he let him.
you tilt your head at pope once he begins to really concentrate on his project, going quieter. his grunts are getting louder, he’s so focused that he doesn’t realize he’s making the sounds, you shift on your bed, and keep watching. “pope, baby, why don’t you take a break?” you soften your voice, he takes a deep breath and holds in a smirk before looking at you. his sunglasses had been on your vanity counter, making it harder for him to get away with looking at your legs. pop takes up the cloth from behind his pocket and wipes his face as he stands, “i need to finish this.” he mumbles, you hum and shrug, “after you take a break.” you stand and walk over to him, stretching your hand out.
pope looks at your manicured nails and holds in a smile, “how long?” he whispers, you shrug and go over to your door, dragging him out of your room. “you’ll be fine in an hour.” pope hums and glances down at your ass, your dress showing your panties again, and like a gentleman, he pulls your dress down, making sure his fingers swipe against the back of your thigh before the two of you walk downstairs to binge watch your favorite show.
i could list off all the things i find attractive about michael and it will be a long list turned into an essay but my favorite thing about that man is his accent. i LOVEEE his accent, i love his voice, especially his natural deep voice. i love it so much, and you hear his accent so loud and clear in come together. when he says “is you got to be free.” the way he says free. “come togethaaa, right nie” instead of “come together, right now” and how he says “you know me.” LIKE I DO I DO KNOW YOU MICHAEL
🐆💋 — you’ve been in your dad’s shadow for a while now, whenever he goes to work, you’re there in the back listening to the next song he produces for an artist. you watch the way he interacts with everyone, especially his best friend quincy, his striking hazel eyes making you feel so nervous. you’re so sweet to everyone naturally, but with quincy, it’s almost as if you shot through his heart. he loves it whenever your dad brings you around, he has an excuse to show off his skills and sometimes, teach you things even your dad hasn’t taught you.
tonight was no different, you were in the studio with quincy, sitting on the couch as he sat at the studio desk, playing around with the controllers and sounds. his head moves back and forth as he feels the music, a cigarette always between his lips. your dad had stepped out for a while, having to meet some other producers and managers for the next hour. quincy turns his head to the right, he looks at you and tilts his head a little. “c’mere.” he mutters, the low bass in his voice driving you wild, you stand and come over to him. standing beside him while keeping a nice distance, you cross your arms as you watch him work. “think you can show me some?” he mumbles and pulls the cigarette out, blowing the smoke slowly. you scoff and look at him, “why is it every time i’m here you always want me to prove i’m a producer?”
quincy smirks and shrugs, “cause you’re a producer and i know your daddy taught you something, so.” he takes your hand, his index finger on top of yours and places it on one of the audio mixer faders. “produce.” he chuckles and pushes his seat back, while glancing at his lap. you bite your lip, trying to hold in your smile as you look at his lap, quincy doesn’t pat it, in fact he looks back at the table and waits for your next move.
sighing, you sit down on his lap, your nerves hitting harder as his cologne gets stronger. his left hand rests on your left thigh as he scoots towards the desk. “go ‘head, i’m right here.” he rasps, his back pressed against the chair while he takes another inhale from his cigarette. you begin working, focused as you think back to everything your dad has taught you. quincy, ever so teasingly, rests both of his hands on your thighs, gliding them up to your waist. he watches the way your body tenses, you try to keep your focus on the music, listening to different vocals appear, some stopping quicker than others. “q.” you whisper as you his his legs open slowly, making you almost drop your body on the chair. he hums and keeps rubbing your thigh, his left hand dragging up to your stomach.
“keep your focus.” his voice should be strict, but it’s far from it. he tries to hide the mischief in his actions, but you both know better. sliding the cigarette out of his mouth, his right hand rests on the counter, while his left hand still stays occupied on your stomach. before he can move his left hand between your thighs and caress your skin, the doorknob begins to jiggle. you stand and look at quincy who looks at you with a smirk, slowly putting his cigarette back in his mouth as he winks at you.
your dad steps inside the room again, a smile on his face, while being none the wiser at the fact that his best friend enjoys testing his daughter’s patience.
Content: Just Michael massaging your feet after a long day
Your feet ached from all the walking and standing around you had done throughout the day. Your heels felt sore and tender as you took another step towards the front door, the urge to take them off before even reaching the door becoming more profound as you let out another quiet wince. It was quiet, but not quiet enough to not catch the attention of Michael as he walked quietly next to you.
“Baby? What’s wrong?” that nurturing tone in his voice taking over as he spoke, his hand making its way to the small of your back as a sense of comfort.
“I’m fine, just these stupid heels.”
“Don’t worry, I got you,” he spoke, analyzing how your feet looked slightly swollen from being compressed in the heel for so long, a frown falling across his face, full concern taking over his once relaxed features.
It didn't take long for you to nearly burst through the front door, your legs nearly giving out from how tired they were, barely making it to the couch before fully collapsing onto the plush cushions with a long sigh, Michael soon following after you.
“I thought I was never gonna make it,” another exhale left your lips, your body fully relaxing and the weight of the day finally melting like butter in a hot pan.
“Put your feet right here,” he tapped at his lap, watching as you crossed your legs over his lap, adjusting yourself until you were comfortable.
Carefully he slipped each shoe off, the sound of the heel clacking against the marble floor filling the emptiness of the house at that moment. His touch was soft, gentle, his large fingers running deliberately up and down your calves eventually stopping back down at your feet.
“Let me massage them for you,” he murmured, pressing his lips against your perfectly manicured toes. No, he didn't have a fetish per se, but he liked to admire them, sure maybe it was weird, but it wasn't like you minded. The feeling of his warm breath against your skin sending a pleasant hum past your lips.
“Mhm, please.”
His fingers worked their way into your skin, soothing the tension from your tired arches, soon focusing on the throbbing pain that your heels were causing you, his eyes making their way to yours that seemed to slowly be drifting off, your body fully relaxing from the release of pressure.
His fingers traced circles into your arches in a rhythmic, soothing pattern that made your eyes grow heavy, a soft sigh falling from your lips.
“Better?” He murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.
You barely managed a nod, your eyelids growing heavier by the second, the weight of the day finally catching up to you.
