michael shifted from paper to paper, his reading glasses perched on his nose and eyes skimming the words of the documents he was reading—like nothing was amiss in the world.
like his girlfriend wasn’t humping his shoe underneath the desk.
your cheek was pressed against his thigh as you panted, a bit of drool making a wet patch form on his slacks, your hips rutting so your wet cunt can rub faster against his perfectly shined shoes.
“m-mikey.. wan’ come..” you whine, your pussy clenching with need as your orgasm approached, the last two ruined ones made your stomach clench as this one came up, tears forming in your eyes.
he glances down at you and hums. “are you sorry now darling? for showing out?”
you eagerly nod, not able to use your words that were sure to turn into an incoherent mess.
he examines your dazed face, eyes wide and wet with tears and plush lips pulled in a needy pout, then nods. “come for me, love.”
you don’t hesitate, the knot in your stomach snaps and you cry out, your juices oozing all over his shoe. “good job baby, such a good girl.” he coaxes. “sorry for being so harsh lovely but i have to teach you to be good.”
Michael couldn't believe it. He had the prettiest girl he had ever seen sitting on his lap, with your slender fingers tracing circles on his sun-kissed, exposed chest, listening to him ramble on about one of his personal thoughts. That's what he liked most about you: you never made him feel like he was odd or bizarre for the things he adored. California was delightful this time of year, with cloudless, slow, hot days spent wrapped up in each other's arms.
“Tink, can I tell you something—never mind…It’s stupid.” Michael says, hiding his blushing face into your neck. You didn’t like it when he did that, made himself smaller like his thoughts didn’t matter. In reality, they meant the world to you. You tenderly lift his face from your neck. “No…,” you dragged out, curiosity lingering in your voice, “Let me know what’s on your mind, angel face.”
Michael presses a gentle kiss to your shoulder, playing with the hem of your shorts, caressing the soft skin. “I have an idea. A great one, mama.”
“Let’s hear it.”
He adjusts you on his lap, clearing his throat. “I want to do a film, I think it’s going to be great. You’ll be there, of course. I jus’ want to get away from music for a bit and get more into acting.”
You smile at him, “That sounds great, Michael!” A light bulb sparks in your head. “I’m sure I know a few people who could help. I know they won't mind!”
Michael can remember the first day he met you. Waiting in the lobby, peeking up from the page of his magazine, eyes following your lace kitten heels clicking against the linoleum floors of Motown Records—everything about you drew him in. Michael yearned for an experience of a fulfilling, passionate connection.
Passing him by walking into your dad’s office, as if he had been blessed, his longings answered. You waved at him. A small, simple wave.
It was rare to see someone who didn't merely see him as a celebrity but as a person, which brought out an unfamiliar side of him.
Michael grinning at you virtually instantly, pressing a kiss upon your lips. “My girl, looking out for me.”
“Oh, I’m your girl now?” You smirked.
You feathered your fingers, tickling Michael’s ribs. “Stop, Tink! You know I'm ticklish!” he says, squirming away from your attack.
He really relished the days like this. “You’re so funny, y’know,” He says, adjusting you so you're sitting fully on his lap. “Why thank you, Mr. Jackson, my soon-to-be-million-dollar Hollywood man!”
It was the cutest thing—the sight of your incredibly beautiful, flustered boyfriend. The “M” engraved heart-shaped necklace, sat perched on your clavicle—a gift, a reminder of your love. You throw your arms around his shoulders, wildly peppering kisses on his face. “C'mon, angel, show me that Hollywood smile!”
His face heats up with every wavering moment, failing to repress his smile. Just him and his girl. Michael wouldn't want to be anywhere else.
Synopsis: It's no secret that you've always been petrified of thunderstorms. So when an especially violent storm rips through the night and disturbs your slumber, your boyfriend Michael has just the perfect remedy to calm you down and help you fall back asleep.
A/N: Okay this is highkey embarrassing to admit but I originally started writing this back in 2023 as a Leon Kennedy x reader smut cuz this was back when the Resident Evil 4 Remake came out and everyone including me was obsessing over it but I never finished it and honestly I would rlly hate to see this fic to go to waste so I figured I'd recycle it into a Michael Jackson smut :)) Obv you guys can tell by the photos that I wrote this with Bad era in mind but it works for any era where he had jheri curls/long loose curls. Enjoy!
AO3 Link // Masterlist
It had been thundering for a great deal of the day. Starting in the early afternoon, the dark clouds rolled their way in, the air becoming thick with fog and mist. Then the rain finally came, heavy drops splattering onto the windows of your house as well as the pavement outside with great force. Then finally came the thunder and lightning. It would go on and off in intensity, sometimes a light rumble so minuscule to the point where you didn’t even notice it, other times, a thrashing resonance so loud and heavy it nearly shook the house.
This time at 3 in the morning, the storm hadn’t stopped in the slightest, and the thunder decided to mess with you. The blinding incandescence of the lightning was almost enough to wake you, but what truly startled you was the ear-piercing crack of thunder that hit seconds after. It roused you out of a dreamless sleep, leaving you an uncomfortable mess as the sheets suddenly felt like fire against your hot skin, sticky with perspiration. You sat up as your chest heaved, trying to regain some breath.
You looked over to your right to see your boyfriend, Michael, sleeping peacefully, a serene expression peaking through a curtain of dark curls that fell in front of his face. He didn’t seem fazed by the thunder at all. He was in such a deep sleep that he was even drooling on his pillow a little bit.
With a sudden urge to use the bathroom, you got up out of bed, your legs still shaking from being so startled, and made your way to the restroom, trying your hardest not to wake Michael.
You seemed to have failed at not waking him up, because by the time you got back from the bathroom, he was sitting upright in bed and rubbing his face. He looked at you heavy-eyed as he tried to get himself to fully wake up.
“What’s the matter, baby?” he asked, his voice light yet gruff. “Did the thunder scare you?”
You nodded your head sheepishly. You always found your fear of thunderstorms childish and embarrassing, but Michael always knew how to comfort you and make you feel better. It wasn’t necessarily hard for him to do when you were so deeply in love with him.
“Come here, baby.”
He opened his arms, beckoning for you to lay down on top of him. He wasn’t wearing a shirt. He never wore one to bed. No pants either. He always went to bed in just his boxer briefs, nothing else. You were the opposite however, as you always wore a nightie to bed with no underwear.
You crawled back into bed and melted yourself into his arms. His arms enveloped you like a warm blanket and the skin of his chest and torso were refreshingly cool to the touch, combating your skin still prickling with heat. You laid your head directly where his heart was, the soothing sound of it beating in a nice, slow-paced rhythm and the movement of his chest rising up and down with every breath almost put you right back to sleep.
He cooed and whispered sweet nothings in your ear but they were interrupted when another strike of lightning flashed outside, startling you once again as you covered your ears to avoid hearing the roar of thunder that would soon follow. You were wide awake once again.
“Gosh, it doesn’t sound like the thunder’s gonna stop anytime soon. If it keeps going like that, I don’t think you’re gonna be able to sleep,” Michael said with slight worry in his voice. For him, it was fine if he missed a night of sleep, he was certainly used to it, but he hated seeing you go through a restless night over something you couldn’t control. He wanted to help, but what was he gonna do? Become God and stop the thunder?
“Ugh,” you grumbled as you sat yourself up, “I’m not even tired anymore. Looks like I’m not sleeping tonight.” You slumped out of Michael's grip and plopped yourself onto your side of the bed, facing away from him in a huff. You weren’t upset at him, you were upset that the weather had to be so bad right now. Michael knew how cranky you could get from lack of sleep.
Still, he persisted in trying to calm you down and make you go back to sleep. He turned to his side to face you and wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you into him as your backside pressed up against the front of him. You gasped slightly as your ass made contact with his protruding bulge, the only thing separating the two of you being the thin lace of your nightie and the fabric of his snug boxer briefs.
You could feel yourself get wet almost instantly. You shifted your legs, trying to contain the wetness that was pooling between them out of nowhere. You could almost feel it begin to drip down your thigh, and the feeling of Michael's growing erection pressed up against your ass wasn’t helping. God, it was so laughably easy for him to make you horny, it was unreal.
You could feel the outline of his dick veins and the precum seeping through. You moved your legs and fiddled with your nightie, discreetly trying to push it down so that your wetness wouldn’t spill onto him. Michael took note of that, gently pushing your hands away and slipping his own hands under your nightie, firmly grasping your hips, massaging them, trying his hardest to contain himself. His hands nearly twitched trying to avoid your erogenous zones. He didn’t want things to move too quickly.
You turned to face him and pressed your lips against his, starting out slow and gentle as you two gave each other nothing but quick lazy pecks. However, it quickly transitioned to the two of you devouring each other like hungry animals. You grabbed fistfuls of Michael's hair as you moaned softly into his mouth, his tongue gliding across yours and refusing to let go. Michael's hand slithered underneath your nightie once more and placed itself on your bare ass, squeezing it with great force. Your body grinded against his, your soaking wet folds dampening his underwear, making his cock throb with desperation. He groaned lowly, the vibration in his throat making you tremble as you felt his cock twitch up against your clit, just begging to pound into you.
You broke yourself away from the kiss, as much as you didn’t want to. The only reason you did so was because you needed air. “Michael,” you mumbled breathlessly into his ear, “please~”
He wasted no time in removing his boxer briefs and throwing them to the floor in a haste. His cock sprang free with an intense recoil, lightly hitting against your clit, making you jump with a moan. His precum created a string between your vulva and him, connecting the two of you as one.
Michael pinned you down on your back, maneuvering himself on top of you as he voraciously kissed you once more, his lips so needy and hungry for you. His hands traveled up and down your body, finding their way to your nightie to remove it completely, leaving the both of you fully nude. His large hands grabbed and kneaded your tender breasts, massaging them while he gently pinched and tugged at your sensitive nipples, making you whimper beneath him.
His lips started traveling away from your mouth and down your neck, leaving wet hickeys on your sweet spots that would certainly bruise later. At the same time, his right hand wandered down your body until it made contact with your dripping hole, collecting some of your juices to coat your clitoris in before gently rubbing it in controlled circles. You squirmed and wriggled under his grip as electric rods of pleasure surged deep within you. His slender fingers caressed your vulva further, making sure to tease your entrance while they were at it. You whimpered lightly when his middle and ring finger slipped inside of you with impossible ease, stroking your inner walls to prepare you for what was to come.
CRACK!
Another bout of lightning and thunder whipped the sky, this one so intense that the thunder roared almost at the exact same time that the lightning flashed. In a panic, your hands removed themselves from Michael's hair and raced to cover your ears as your eyes fused themselves shut. Michael acted swiftly by pulling you in close to his body and pressing his lips against your forehead.
"Shhhh, it's okay, baby, it can't hurt you," he whispered in between kisses. "The thunder's only temporary, baby."
With your eyes still closed, you wrapped your arms around him and pulled him in for comfort like a teddy bear. His head buried itself in the nook of your left shoulder and he nibbled gingerly on your earlobe as his soft curls tickled your nose. The rapid thumping of your heart pattered onto his own sweat-gleamed pecs, but this time, it was for a reason unrelated to the perilous thunder.
With his entire weight on top of you and your bodies pressed together with not a centimeter of space between each other, there was only one place where his throbbing member could be at this moment, and that was resting amply between your slippery folds. His tip aligned with your entrance but hovered ever so slightly away from it. So painfully close, yet so painfully far.
"Michael~" you whined in his ear, "I can't wait any longer, I need you inside me already." You impulsively bucked your hips, making your vulva tap him just in case he needed a nonverbal hint.
He grinned against your ear and tucked his hands beneath your thighs to pull them up, your knees resting comfortably against the sides of his waist. "Anything for my baby," he murmured.
With one hand cradling your head and the other gripping the base of his cock, Michael lifted his hips ever so slightly and positioned himself right at your entrance. He rubbed his raw tip around the edges of your hole in tiny circles before pushing himself in, taking pride in the rhapsodic moan that ejected from your mouth and directly into his ear as he filled you up.
Meticulously, Michael pushed himself all the way in until his hips met yours. Your thighs rested nicely on top of his and his cock stuffed you just the way you liked, sitting idly in front of your cervix and being hugged by the slick ridges of your pussy's walls.
Gripping onto his hips, you beckoned him to start moving in and out of you, and he did just that, steadily grinding on you, the coarse curls of his pubic hair tickling your vulva with each elongated stroke.
Once you grew accustomed to his size, he picked up the pace, following a stable rhythm that synchronized with the rain outside which had since turned into torrential downpour. Every instance of him sliding in and out of you brought ripples of nerve-stricken pleasure to your core, radiating through the rest of your body in the form of intense heat bubbling underneath your skin that his touch could no longer cool down.
You could feel every vein of his girthy cock grazing the inside of your pussy. Your whimpers of vulnerable desperation blended with the euphoric moans escaping from Michael's lips created a symphony against the aggressive background noise of the rain that coerced your eyelids to flutter closed, making you take in this moment as if you'd never experience anything like this ever again, though you knew full well that that was far from the truth.
Michael's wet lips feverishly pecked at your face, desperate to find your lips until they collided at last like magnets. Your tongues twirled around each other as his cock continued to pound into you, his hips slapping yours with an audible clap every second on the dot.
"God, you feel so good, baby," he whispered into your mouth in between kisses, his voice low and raspy. "You're perfect in every way, I'll never get tired of you. Never, never, never, never~"
He planted sloppy kisses in between each "never" he spoke, missing your lips half the time but you couldn't care less. You were about to say something in response before he glided two of his fingers into your mouth, inducing you to suck, which you did with pleasure. The saltiness from both his sweat and the remnants of precum that had gotten on his hands tasted delectable on your tongue. After several seconds of licking his slender fingers, he removed them from your mouth, bringing a string of saliva out with them which he lapped up before it could fall on your chest, and crept his slobbered fingers down to your throbbing clit.
You mewled at the initial touch, cool in temperature and so overwhelming for the most sensitive part of your whole body, but as Michael brushed his fingers across your clit as well as your surrounding flesh, you relaxed and your eyes fell again as your head rolled back on the pillow, overcome by double stimulation being done on you.
You tried your best to keep it together, but you slowly felt the ribbons that were holding back your orgasm fraying at the seams. Michael skating his tongue across your jawline and neck and leaving wet kisses wherever it landed, his nimble fingers tracing unidentifiable shapes and symbols on your aching nub, his cock slamming into you with no mercy making the headboard bang against the wall with each ruthless thrust, his sweltering body flush against yours and his back muscles tensing as you dragged your nails across his skin. It was all becoming too much. The buildup was drawing close to it's grand finale, and it looked as though the same could be said for Michael with the way his thrusting rhythm sputtered into sloppy out of control strokes and his breathing drastically picked up speed with dainty whimpers sprinkled into the mix.
"I can't—I don't know if I can hold on any longer, baby," he breathed into your neck.
"I'm almost there, I'm gonna cum, Michael, just don't stop, please~" you responded, swinging your legs up to his back and interlocking your ankles to trap him in; his kryptonite. No matter how hard he tried, Michael was never able to contain himself whenever you pulled out the classic move.
In a frenzied fit, his thrusts gained more speed, his fingers ferociously massaged your clit while trying not to subconsciously ball themselves into a fist, his teeth sunk into the base of your throat, and with a muffled roar of a moan, everything spilled out of him and inside of you, thick ropes of warm cum shooting out of his pulsating cock and into your contracting pussy as you too rode out your high, your juices gushing out and spilling all over him. You both clung onto each other for dear life as your climaxes took over. You wailed Michael's name and he sweetly cried yours as he pumped every last drop of cum inside of you, feeling the same fiery explosion of pleasure deep in the pit of his stomach as you did.
Eventually, your cries turned into tiny whimpers and murmurs as your bodies relaxed once the final bit of your orgasms subsided. Michael lay on top of you for a little while longer with his cock still buried within you, being squeezed gently by each post-orgasm throb that your cunt did impulsively. After several minutes of laying in comfortable silence, Michael got up from the bed to grab a towel from the bathroom to clean you off. Once he finished wiping all of his discarded cum off of your pussy and thighs, he grabbed your nightie from the floor and dressed you before doing the same to himself with his boxers.
Throwing the towel in the hamper, he crawled back into bed and kissed your forehead, snuggling you in tight in the same spooning position that you two were in earlier, and you quickly faced towards him so that you could inhale the leftover animalic musk of his sweat. Michael rubbed your back in an attempt to soothe you even further just in case his primary method wasn't enough. As his eyelids were just about to cave in to allow him to fall into his much needed slumber, another ear-splitting crash of thunder hurled through the sky, startling him awake. When he looked down at you to make sure you didn't get frightened by it, he was pleased to see that you hadn't flinched one bit, for his remedy had worked and you were fast asleep, even drooling on your pillow a little bit.
synopsis 𝜗ৎ. a picnic date turns into something more
cw, off the wall michael, fluff, and a small bit of exhibitionism (the drastic change ik lmao, not proofread)
It started off as a small little date. Nothing extravagant, nothing the magazines would care to write about. Just a picnic. The two of you had been married for a couple of months, finding time alone together has become a little hard. Michael was still making music, still disappearing into studios for hours at a time, still traveling from city to city whenever work called for him.
You understood it. You always had, music was a part of him. But still, that didn't mean you didn't miss him sometimes.
So when Michael suggested a picnic, you happily agreed.
You even put on a little bit of makeup, little bit of glitter over the eyes and your favorite mascara. A few dabs of the vanilla scent Michael had gifted you still on your skin, and your favorite hair jewelry. You put on a cute babydoll dress before walking out to see him.
Michael greeted you with a quick kiss, clearly loving how you looked.
You both left early in the morning, when everything still felt quiet. You packed a few fruits, a few sandwiches, lemonade, and desserts you had baked yourself the night before. Baking had always been something you enjoyed, and Michael never complained about being your taste tester. He always was by your side, in a little apron too.
He often tasted the batter, licked some frosting from your finger, or snuck in a few bites of a cake.
Most of the time he would help too. He loved making sweet potato pies, always bringing them over to your family whenever he could. It had become something of a tradition now, something you all looked forward to without even saying it out loud. Small clumps of flour would be on the counter with soft music in the back, and him leaning over the mixing bowl tapping his feet.
You'd smile at him, moments like this felt so special to you.
He’d catch you watching him and just grin, that easy, familiar smile that always made you shake your head a little. Other times, he’d walk past you just to press a quick kiss to your cheek like it was the most normal thing in the world, like he didn’t even think about it twice. You loved this life, even if Michael was gone sometimes, you wouldn't trade it for nothing.
Michael and you walked for a few, side by side, your hands held together. You guys made it to a slightly secluded area, beautiful grassland and trees. Nearby was a river, the sounds of the water blended softly with the wind that blew.
Michael's hand still was tucked in yours, his thumb brushes against your hand, while placing one foot over another.
“You like this spot?” he asked, slowing to a stop. You looked around and nodded.
"Yeah I like here," you reply smiling. You reached into your bag and pulled out the blanket, unfolding it before laying it neatly across the grass. Michael places the brown basket down and sits on the blanket. He looked up at you for a second, then reached out without warning, gently pulling you down beside him with a slight grin tugging at his lips.
You let out a soft laugh as you fell into place next to him, the motion easy, like you’d done it a hundred times before. You kiss his cheek before taking the foods out the basket.
"Whatcha pack mama?," he asks curiously looking in the basket.
You pull out some of the stuff while talking, "Just a few fruits, some oranges for you, some sandwiches- oh and I made these little strawberry cakes," you pull out two mason jars. Michael's eyes lightly lit up at the mention of cake. There were a few cut up strawberries with whip cream between the cake layers.
You both ate together, the basket slowly got lighter as you talked and laughed in between bites. Every so often, you’d feed each other little pieces of the snacks.
Along the way, the eating became less important than the closeness itself. Spending time with Michael was nice, even nicer since the weather was acting right. Bright sun, blue sky and pretty clouds.
You lay against his chest, listening to his heartbeat. Michael rested against you, his hand careful on your side.
As the quietness grew, so did your mind.
Your mind drifted and so did your finger. Your finger made its way to his shirt which was already unbuttoned slightly. You then traced it against his chest, drawing small circles and patterns.
Michael notices the movement, “What you doin’ down there?” he asks against you curiously.
You hum lightly, continuing to trace his chest, "Nothing."
But you weren't doing nothing, far from it. As you traced his chest, you bring your face close to his. You stare at him, looking into his doe eyes before leaning into his cheek. Softly, you start kissing it, placing small pecks against there and a little lower.
Almost instantly he leans into the kiss, trying to keep his composure, "What you doin' baby?" he asks you again, but you didn't say anything.
His face started feeling warm as you did,
One kiss.
Then another.
Then, another.
His face started getting warmer, and it wasn't just from the sun. It was from your soft kisses, your vanilla scent that filled his nose. You were teasing him, out in the open just giving small, slow kisses. You then go back to tracing over his chest, just to ease him down.
As you traced, his waist moved against you, getting closer. You chuckled softly to yourself before carefully crossing your leg over his. The two of you remained tangled together on the blanket, enjoying the presence each of you provided. Your movements then stop suddenly.
Michael glanced down at you, confusion flickering across his face. "Why did you stop?" he asks.
You look to him, playing dumb, "Stop what?"
His eyes narrowed slightly at you. "You know what," he replied. You continued to look at him innocently, doing your best to keep the grin threatening to escape your face from showing.
"Hm." Michael nodded slowly. "Alright, be like that."
For a moment, he tried to look serious. It lasted all of two seconds before a grin slowly spread across his face, giving away the fact that he knew exactly what you were doing. "You think you're funny," he muttered, shaking his head.
You hum softly and rested your head back against his chest. He rested his head against you, his eyes landed on your face, looking over every detail. The eye shadow, every curled lash, your plump lips.
No matter how many times he looked at you, it never felt like enough.
Even after a few months of marriage, there were still moments where he'd glance over at you and smile to himself, quietly amazed that he got to call you his wife.
However, the teasing you just did on him? He didn't forget about it.
One hand stays resting on your hip while the other drifts lower. His finger teases slow against the fabric, then gently slips under it. He did no more than that, just rubbing small circles in your skin. His fingers smooth, creating a small path of expression down your skin.
Michael then leaned in, looking at you, eyes calm and low. He then kisses the side of your face, just like you did him.
His lips warm from the sunlight and mosit from the cool lemonade you packed in the basket. He didn't give you a full kiss, not yet. Right now, just small pecks on the sides of your mouth, teasing every time.
Your head tilts up, trying to give him more access to your mouth, but he purposely ignores it.
He grins as he saw your attempts for a full kiss, "Not so funnny is it?" he says to you he presses one final kiss.
You rolled your eyes playfully before leaning in and kissing him yourself. Michael welcomed it, catching your lips quick. Your lips smack against each other, soft noises fill the silence. His hand stays under the fabric between your side, fingers moving in slow, lazy strokes while his tongue slides against yours, deepening the kiss. Your hands cradle his face, thumbs brushing lightly over his cheekbones. He exhales a low moan against your mouth, then lets his forehead rest against yours. A quiet breath leaves him before he presses a gentle kiss to your brow.
"I love you," he says quietly. "So much"
"I love you too, Michael," you answer, your words warm against his skin. He stays close, eyes half-lidded, the faint scent of his scent mixing with the soft cotton of his shirt.
Your fingers slide into his styled afro, feeling the gentle give of each coil.
He liked that, he loved feeling your fingers find each different coil. Jusy gently feeling his hair. He kisses down the side of your neck hesitantly, be sure not to go too fast.
His palm settles at the curve of your back, holding you without any rush, the quiet between you filled only by the slow rhythm of your breathing and the faint hum of butterflies in the tall grass nearby.
Then came the looks, from both of you, knowing...wanting something more.
"You know what I feel like right now?" you asked sweetly in Michael's ear.
Michael tilts his head. He bit down on his lip holding in a smile and hums. "Hm, talk to me."
Your hand traces over his shoulders, slightly toned. You come close to his lips.
"Makin' love" you said quietly. "Here, in the sun."
Michael gives up a small shy smile, "Makin' love, here?'' he repeats playfully. His face was slightly shocked, but, he wasn't saying no to the idea, in fact, he was thinking about it.
You nod at him, sure of yourself. You blinked your pretty eyes at him, your finger tracing over his lips. He then glances around the area before his eyes settle back on you, "What if we get caught?"
"Then we run, run for the hills" you chuckled at him. Michael chuckled back at you, before you could say another thing he leans in.
He kisses you, so eager. You kiss back just as eagerly, not holding back anything. Slight popping noises are created as you both kiss. Your hands both travel each other, pressing through the clothes. Michael's lips then travel down your chest. Each kiss, and the words, I love you.
You let out a quiet sigh as your hands drift low, finding the button of his pants. You work it open with gentle fingers, a shared chuckle escapes the both of you when he presses his hips upward. Needy, the hard line of him rubbing against your thigh. His bulge thickens under the denim as your mouths meet again, slow and deep.
You grind your hips in answer, rubbing up with unhurried pressure while your tongues slide together.
"Don't tease me no more out here," you hear him say against your lips, almost like a plea. With a soft push you guide him onto his back.
He settles willingly, eyes half-lidded, the ends of his afro brushing against the blanket. You swiftly swing one leg over his hips, thighs settling on either side of him, the heat of your body pressing down through the thin layers still between you. Your palms glide over his chest once more, feeling the rise and fall of his breathing. He draws in a heavy breath, trying to stay composed.
You arch over panties most likely showing. You come close to his face, pressing a soft kiss, "I won't Michael baby."
Michael hand then travels right to your panties, he presses over the wet spot that had formed. You let out a quiet moan feeling him touch you. He watches your reaction before gently rubbing his thumb around your clothed clit. You couldn't hold it anymore, you quickly slipped off your panties so he could get better access.
"My pretty baby," he says gentle as two fingers circled with your clit. "Already messy fa'me."
The pads of his finger move in slow teasing strokes, your hips twitch lightly from the motion. He then pulls those two fingers up, slick and shiny, and gives you a small, almost bashful smile.
"Let me get a taste," he says quietly, slipping them between his lips. He keeps his eye contact with you as he does, letting the taste of you rest on his tongue. You let out a nervous chuckle before coming in to kiss him, tasting a bit of yourself on his lips.
Your fingers slide down to his open fly, pushing the fabric aside until his dick springs free, dark and already stiff, glistening at the tip. You gather the slick from between your own thighs and stroke it along his length, he moans quietly at the feeling, resting his head back against the blanket. You slide the tip softly against your entrance, then rise just enough to position yourself.
The head nudges your entrance, and you sink down in one slow, continuous motion.
Your walls clenched around him, as you took every inch, a quiet, pleading moan slipping from your throat. Michael's hands gently dragged against your waist, his fingers spreading wide, his thumbs stroking the curve of your hips while he exhales a shaky sound. You stay there for a moment, relaxing from the way he pulses inside you. You then give a gentle rock of your hips, rolling slow as Michael watched.
Heaven, Michael thought.
That's what it felt like. As he watches you bounce on top of him, that's what he thought of. Seeing his wife be so pretty like this, and taking him so well out in the open.
His fingers trace slowly down your side, the touch light enough to draw a soft whine from your throat. Your hips begin to roll with more purpose, the full curve of your ass meeting his thighs in steady, unhurried strokes.
He watches your face, voice low, “Ride me,” he begs, the words rough with need.
A moan slips out of you at the encouragement, your body answering by sinking lower, taking every inch before rising again in that same measured rhythm. Your wetness drips against his dick as you ride, your mouth parts open feeling the goodness of the sun hitting your back.
Michael’s eyes stay locked on yours, his lips parting around soft, helpless sounds every time you bottom out. His fingers tighten just enough to feel the give of your flesh, guiding without forcing, letting you set the tempo while his hips give small, answering lifts to meet you.
"And don't stop till you get enough," he says, looking up at you.
𖦹 ׂ 𓈒 🪽 ／ ⋆ ۪ keeping this short n sweet but applehead i take great inspiration from you. you’re a compassionate man who truly cares for people and yearns for equality and justice. your love for the wellbeing of children and future generations are inspiring. i admire your hard work, dedication and overall contribution you’ve made to music, to the world. your legacy will forever leave its taint in history and im proud to have witnessed even an iota of your greatness. the world doesn’t deserve you. we love and miss you deeply.
warnings: mdni, 18+, unprotected!sex, oral (fem and male), blowjob, pet names, age gap (y/n is mid twenties, michael is late 30s), spoilt!reader, brat taming
pairing: michael jackson x ditzy!fem!reader
summary: michael gets sick of y/n being bratty and spoilt, and decides to teach her to appreciate what she has. inspired by the lovely @michaelsxprincess, her fics are SOOOO good, check them out pls!
there wasn’t a single corner of the room that didn’t have one of y/n’s belongings thrown carelessly in the corner.
the sharp, black stiletto heels michael had bought her for her birthday last year.
the diamond choker she’d begged him to buy and promised she’d handle carefully, lay strewn across the bed.
three of the dresses she’d bought last week dropped on the floor.
and the culprit?
sat at her vanity like a doll, gliding a tuber of lipstick across her lower lip, and spritzing her sweet perfume across her collarbone.
michael watched her from the doorway for a second, the way she fluffed up her hair to make sure it had the volume she wanted, the way she assessed her doll-like makeup with a happy, ditzy little smile.
she gave herself one last once over, setting her perfume down as her eyes met michael’s in the doorway.
“mikey,” y/n said, picking up her little bag, “what d’you think?”
he watched, eyebrow half raised as she gave him a spin, almost wobbling on one of her heels.
“i think that dress is pretty short,” michael said, his gaze remained fixed on her face as she looked down to assess the dress.
“you think? i was gonna make it shorter,”
the way she said it, so clueless about the undertones to what he meant.
“where you goin’, mama?” he caught her wrist as she moved towards the door, looking down at her from where he stood.
“out,”
“out where?”
“out out,” y/n wriggled her wrist free, adjusting the bracelet on her wrist, a little diamond one he’d bought her for their 6 month anniversary.
michael didn’t say anything, watching as she walked to the front door.
“y/n, the room-,”
“i’ll sort it when i’m back!”
and then: click. the front door shut.
michael frowned as he was left alone in the room, her clothes strewn all over the place and makeup left messily on her vanity.
even those beloved diamonds she’d begged for were thrown almost carelessly on the bed.
he swore she’d be the end of him.
❀❀❀❀
y/n came back late.
she’d had to wake up the driver who’d been waiting for her outside the restaurant, it was that late.
it had always been easy to track here.
wherever you could hear metal and jewels rustling, it was probably y/n.
she hummed a soft tune under her breath as she kicked off the platforms she had been wearing, leaving them slightly messy by the door as she brushed her fingers through her hair.
“y/n,”
the girl almost jumped out of her skin as her head snapped the where the voice had spoken.
michael was sat on the couch, arms folded over his chest.
and god, he did not look happy.
“mikey-,”
“where were you?” he cut her off, his voice snappy as she blinked.
“at the restaurant, with my friends-,”
“i was worried sick,” he started, staring at her face for her reaction, “waitin’ all these hours for my girl to come home,”
“i can look after myself, i was fine,” y/n dropped her bag onto the couch, arms folded as she pouted.
“yeah? a ditzy little girl can look after herself? one who can’t even clean up after herself?”
“i said i’d clean up when i’m back!”
“don’t bother,” michael said, his gaze fixed on the bag she’d set down, “i cleaned it up already,”
the room was silent for a second.
“i could’ve done it myself,” she finally spoke, her voice haughty.
there was another pause, broken only by y/n’s gasp as michael grabbed her wrist, pulling her down so she was eye-level with him.
“do you get off to being a brat, y/n?” he spoke, his voice dangerously low, “the messy room ain’t the point,”
she was silent as he spoke.
“what am i supposed to think, hm? with my girl goin’ out like that, knowin’ exactly what other men are gonna think,” he spoke.
y/n looked down at her outfit as he put emphasis on ‘going out like that’.
“you dont like my outfit?”
god, either she was being dumb on purpose, or she truly was that naive.
michael was silent for a second, before he looked down at the dress she was wearing.
“go upstairs and take it off,” he said, “and fold it real nice. ‘bout time i teach you to take care of the pretty things i get you,”
and go upstairs, she did.
the room was clean now, every belonging if hers now put away neatly except the diamond necklace she’d left on the bed.
y/n kept silent, placing her jewellery into the vanity, and leaning down to fold the dress neatly.
michael came upstairs a few minutes later, watching over her shoulder as she finished folding the dress.
“you call this neat, baby girl?” he watched, his breath hot on her neck, “do it again,”
y/n’s hands were shaky as she refolded the dress, placing it neatly at the end of the bed.
“there,” he said, “you can do one thing right. now put that necklace on, and sit on the edge of the bed f’me, okay?”
she clipped the diamond necklace on shakily, the gems shining against her warm skin.
“y’know how much that cost?” michael watched her, eyes fixed in her face.
y/n looked at them on her collarbone, then back at him.
“a…a lot?”
“a lot,” he echoed her, almost laughing at her words, “twenty thousand, baby girl. your mind can’t even comprehend how much that is,” he tilted her head back, giving her cheek a soft, gentle slap.
y/n whined at the stinging pain, but didn’t move away.
“let’s put that mouth to some use, okay?”
he steps back, his eyes tracking over you again, taking in the sight of you perched at the edge of the bed in that pink set.
“open your mouth," he said, his voice low and stripped of any softness, “nice and wide, let me see them pretty lips,”
his hands found her hair as she pulled his trousers down, his cock hard and heavy in her hand.
“thats it,” michael watched her through hooded eyes, “thats my girl,”
y/n looked up at him through her lashes as he yanked her head back, hand twisting in her hair as she whined.
“y’dont get to whine at me after bein’ a brat,” he leaned down, “open your mouth,”
y/n did what he said, her lips parting as michael scowled.
he really was pissed.
he leaned down, spitting onto her tongue as she flinched, her eyes wide as he held her head back.
“y’know that ain’t gonna fit it all, y/n, don’t make it worse,”
y/n didn’t put up a fight, opening her mouth wider.
“there,” michael straightened, wrapping his hand round the base of his cock, “much better,”
“‘m sorry mikey,” y/n started, her eyes wide as he pulled her hair tighter, her voice almost frantic.
“yeah? why don’t you put that pretty mouth to some use and show me how sorry you are,” he pulled her head back, pushing his tip past the softness of her lips.
he went slow, but he didn’t stop either, sliding his full length into her mouth as she gasped, her tongue hot against the underside of his dick.
“so warm,” michael groaned, “so warm and wet f’my dick,”
his hips move with a languid, unhurried rhythm, each shallow thrust measured and controlled as he pushed in and out of her mouth.
each gag vibrated against his cock as he pulled her hand to handle the bits she couldn’t reach.
“y’know, i love when you dress pretty,” he tilted her head, watching his cock disappear into her mouth, past her soft lips.
“love when you wear all the stuff i buy you, but you can’t treat those things without respect, baby girl,” he lifted the diamonds on her neck, glowing and shimmery.
y/n nodded, her throat still full with his dick.
she looked so good in that pink bra, his cock deep inside of her mouth as he angled her head.
“all those people when you go out, think they see you like this? on your knees?” he pushed deeper into her mouth, eyes fluttering shut.
he gave her two more long, deep thrusts, before he pulled out, watching her cough and splutter for a second, before he moved to his knees.
fuck.
“it’s silly, ain’t it, baby? you bein’ a brat and here i am, on my knees for you,” michael scoffed.
his hands found her thighs, pushing them apart, his fingers hooking into the waistband of her pink panties.
he pulled them aside, slow and deliberate, exposing her pretty pussy to the cool air of the room.
he didn’t dive in immediately.
instead, he lowered his head, his breath ghosting hot against her inner thigh, his lips pressing a soft, lingering kiss just beside where she needed him most.
y/n gasped, his lips pressing a soft kiss just above her clit, before he moved down, tongue gliding against her warm pussy.
michael hummed, the sound vibrating against her core as he repeated the motion, sliding one long finger into her at the same time.
“mikey,” she hissed, her hand coming to his hair as he pumped his finger in and out of her.
he pressed another kiss to her sweet pussy, moving up along her stomach, to her chest, her neck.
it was like he’d forgotten her messiness from earlier.
“bend over the bed f’me,” he spoke into her ear, finger still moving in and out of her as y/n nodded, almost desperate.
michael pulled moved, moving back so she could turn over, her ass in the air as he moved behind her.
the diamonds caught the light as he wrapped his hand round his dick, his tip teasing against her aching entrance.
“tell me what you want, mama,” he reached a hand into her hair, pulling her head back, “tell me what’chu want and i’ll give it to you,”
“you, please,”
that was all he needed, pushing into her, her pussy enveloping him in a warm, wet embrace.
“mikey, fuck,” her head fell forwards into the mattress as he settled deep inside of her, watching his dick push into her.
he started off slow, savouring the sounds of his dick getting coated in her juices, the way she moaned everytime he bottomed out, her pussy slick round him.
and then, he started properly.
michael pivoted his hips, aiming as deep as he could inside of her, hitting right against her g-spot as she cried out, hands fisted into the duvet.
“mikey- fuck, it’s s’good,” y/n babbled into the mattress, michael’s hand still in her hair as he snapped his hips into her.
he alternated the rhythm too, a few long, deep thrusts, before he speeding up again, her cunt clenching round him every time he did so.
“thats it, doll,” he whispered, “need t’know you’ll behave next time,”
y/n just nodded, her eyes glazed over, lower lip red from biting down onto it as he pumped in and out of her, faster and harder.
“‘m so close, mikey, fuck,” she whispered, saying his name over and over again, like a prayer, as he let go of her hair, his large hands coming to her waist, splayed across her hot skin.
“‘s so good, jus’ let me finish, please,” y/n moaned, her eyes rolling back as her stomach tightened.
she was close.
“you’re all good, girl,” michael whispered, “i ain’t stoppin’,”
they both finished together, michael’s dick buried deep in her as her cunt clenched round him, his cum spilling into her.
for a second, they were both still, y/n blinking back stars, before michael slowly dragged out.
“‘s all good now,” michael whispered, his touch surprisingly tender as he cupped her cheek from behind, “you’re all good, baby girl,”
y/n stayed still, his cum dripping down her shaky thighs as she nodded.
it was like she could still feel him inside of her.
the room was empty for a second, til michael came back, drying off her thighs with a wet towel and tossing it with the rest of the dirty laundry.
after that, he walked back into the room, gently guiding y/n into a hug.
“you all good?” he spoke softly into her hair, “didn’t hurt you, did i?”
y/n shook her head.
“good,” michael hummed, sitting down onto the bed, taking the girl onto his lap as he did so.
“you gonna clean up after yourself now?”
“yeah,” she mumbled into his chest as his hand came to her waist, trading idle patterns across her still-hot skin.
“good,” he said again, her ear pressed to his chest, the soft thump-thump of his heart beneath her.
“i won’t be silly anymore,” y/n mumbled.
“alright,” michael said, “we should get some sleep, doll, it’s late,”
y/n nodded, letting michael’s hand travel up her back, undoing the lace bra she had on.
they were both definitely going to get some good sleep.
❀❀❀❀
i don’t really know if i’m all that happy with this piece, though i hope you all enjoyed it!
also i’m posting this at the end of michael’s day, i hope this is okay!
synopsis: you and michael was left at the house alone, out of boredom you suggested a little game of Simon says.
wc: 1327
cw: a little suggestive, not too bad.
╰┈➤ a/n: half of my writing ideas come from songs u guys, this literally came from the song Simon says bye. Also, it’s the 17 year anniversary of Michael death; andd I’m missing him🥹.
era: off the wall
“Aight Mike, aight lil mama’, y’all two don’t get into too much trouble now—we’ll be back.” Jermaine had said, walking out the door. Each sibling was out doing something that night. It was all very convenient that you and Michael had the house to yourselves.
Michael sat on the couch right next to you, legs crossed. He occasionally looked at you, then the wall, then his feet. A bit awkward…you usually talked to La’Toya, not really Michael. You were a family friend, close to everyone. You and Michael of course talked, but not much. You looked over and smiled.
“What is it, lil mama’?” he said softly. Hearing you get called that was normal. It was your name around here for some reason. You never questioned it, same reason you never questioned Michael’s nickname being “giblet.” “Just… want to play a game.”
His head popped up immediately, a glow in his eyes giving him away. You couldn’t help but laugh.. you knew his love for games, especially Twister.
Something you wouldn’t be playing tonight. Last time you played with him and La’Toya, he was super flexible… it was actually kind of surprising.
“We have…” you heard him start listing games immediately. Honestly, you didn’t feel like getting off the couch. Everything he mentioned was something you two would have to play on the floor or go get.
You let out a soft exhale. He noticed immediately. “…Those choices sound a little childish, don’t they, mama’?” he said softly.
You shook your head quickly. “It’s not that. I just feel comfortable… lazy, I guess.”
The tension in Michael’s shoulders went down, hearing it wasn’t his idea. You sat and thought for a second.
It was a boring game… but it was something you were interested in doing. Something that made you curious about what commands Michael would give if it was in his hands.
“Simon says…” you slid it in carefully and softly.
You watched Michael’s face, trying to see if you said the wrong thing. His head turned toward you, and he let out a soft, breathy laugh. “You ain’t hard to entertain at all then…”
It took you a moment to catch on. He wasn’t making fun of you, just the game you’d picked. Out of everything the two of you could’ve done, you chose Simon Says, a game so simple that it made him laugh.
“Uh-huh…” you responded to his little comment.
He then got closer and got a little more comfortable. “Aight, you go first.” You looked at him.
“Simon says…” He got prepared, as if you were about to give him the hardest command out there. He stretched his arms and everything, making you laugh at the sight.
“…toooo leave your hand on your head for the rest of the game.”
He followed the order. His hand found its way up to his coily afro, resting in it and breaking the shape slightly as his fingers settled.
He thought for a moment, coming up with something for you to do.
“Simon says…” he said, looking at you. He knew you were being lazy on the couch, so to get you up he had to think of something.
“…to do a plank till the next round!”
He sounded excited. You dropped your jaw. You gave him something so easy, a little icebreaker… and he decided to do this to you.
“So… so, so cruel,” you added. You got down on the floor, placing your hands down and going into a plank.
Michael peeked down, watching you struggle a bit as you held it. But not even noticing the struggle, he noticed how your shorts ride up.. showing things that should be left to his imagination. Then the noise.. the noises, the small sounds you made every time it got harder. Why was it attractive to him, he had no clue.
“Sim… Simon says—” your voice cracked as it got difficult to speak. “I… I can’t focus.”
Michael couldn’t help but feel a little bad, but he was too entertained to stop. “Too… what?” he teased.
“Simon says you can’t give me anymore exercise-related commands!”
“That isn’t fair… or fun,” he pouted. You didn’t care, you dropped out of the plank as the round ended and got back on the couch. You watched as he shifted, suddenly a little uncomfortable. But no matter what, he never stopped moving.
“Mike, is you good?” you asked.
He just nodded his head, a little nervous. He couldn't let you know what he was flustered by, or what got him shifting around.. his hand remained in his hair, as he thought of Simon says.
"Get closer." He said quickly, you did, forgetting what this game was about. But he smelled you, the whiffs of cocoa butter reached him warm, sweet, almost creamy in the air. It wasn't strong, but it clung to you just enough for him to notice whenever you moved closer, his focus slipping for a second before he looked at you again. "I…— I didn't say Simon says." sounding absolutely nervous.. he always knew you smelled good, and was a very attractive person, so why is it only affecting him now?
But just with this game only being with you two in the house nobody else stole his attention away from you, he noticed your features a lot more. He gripped his hair with the hand you forced him to have in his hair, gripping it hard like he was having thoughts he was holding back.. that he felt guilty of having. For example.. how it would feel to have your warm body on top of his lap, and your body molding into his.. or how your lips would fe—
“Mike!” You cut into his thoughts, he felt as if it was a strong whiplash the way you called his name. “Ye—yes sorry? I’m here..” he whispered.
“I lost. So I lost my turn. Go again,” you said.
He bit his bottom lip again, a little ‘tick’ you started noticing whenever he got nervous. It was attractive even if he didn’t mean for it to be.
“Simon says…” he looked you up and down briefly before quickly looking away. “…to come closer and actually stay.”
You obeyed immediately. The tension in the air shifted. You didn’t mind it. It left you intrigued, wanting more to see if Michael was looking at you the same way you were looking at him.
“Simon says… stay still..” he in fact stay still.
You wonder why he shifted so much, it only took one look.. “Mike…” you said softly.
“I’m sorry—I swear I’m not a perv—” he said quickly. You cut him off with a kiss.
He didn’t kiss back at first, trying to catch up, clumsy and unsure, but eventually he followed your rhythm. Soft sounds filled the room as you moved closer. The lip smacks being the only thing heard in the big living room and heavy breathing between you two..
He pulled back slightly, breathing heavily. “Can I touch you?” he asked.
“Simon says yes,” you laughed softly.
He immediately pulled you closer, hands settling at your waist as he held you like you might move away. He guided you toward his lap as the kiss deepened, both of you caught up in the moment. His arms wrapped around you, bear hugging you, not wanting you to escape..
“Mm..mama..” he said softly against your lips mid kiss.
Before anything else could happen, the door started to open. You pulled back quickly.
Jermaine walked in with Jackie and Marlon.The three of them paused instantly. Your lips were swollen, your breathing still uneven, and Michael was adjusting himself, clearly trying to act normal.
Marlon immediately laughed and walked off. Jackie smirked, glancing between you two.
“Maine, I told y’all don’t get into too much trouble,” Jermaine said, shaking his head as he teased them.
──── 𝒶 𝒸𝑜𝑙𝑙𝑒𝑐𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛 of intimate diary entries by michael j. jackson 𓍢ִ໋🪶 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖ } between the ages of eleven and twenty-six, all written in mind of his childhood sweetheart
notes: childhoodbsf!popstar!reader ╱ see 𝒂𝒖 𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒓𝒐. fluff and a lil angst, with some mild 𝟏𝟖+ content in michael’s recollection of sexual encounters and thoughts. mention of sexual coercion ⋆ childhood domestic abuse ⋆ religious guilt ⋆ michael's body dysmorphia ⋆ mikey is a lil yearner ⋆ [♥︎] is used to signal reader's name ⋆ reader is avoidant (initially) ⋆ entries are in chronological order with time skips
𝓳𝒖𝒍𝒚 𝟏𝟎, 𝟏𝟗𝟕𝟎
── I saw the prettiest girl this afternoon. Just real beautiful. I never seen any girl look so precious. I don't know her name, and I could only smile at her as she passed, but I do hope I see her again. We were at the recording studio today, and it was there that I noticed her. So full of life and energy, similar to me, but I've been quieter recently. Joseph says it's not a good look to be such a 'boisterous, happy kid.' I have to be serious offstage. But anyway, back to the beautiful girl...
She was so, so pretty. My brothers kept making fun of me because I couldn't stop staring at her, and when she noticed me as she sung, she looked right in my eyes and smiled. Jackie said she looked at all of us and not just me, but I felt the eye contact, I'm sure of it. I don't know if she likes me, if she'd want to be my friend, but I'm lying awake right now, I don't know what time it is, and I can't stop thinking about her. If she's a Motown artist, I probably will see her again, and that makes me real happy. I need to ask somebody about that. I'll ask mother to ask Joseph tomorrow morning. I can't wait to know her name.
𝓼𝒆𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒎𝒃𝒆𝒓 𝟐𝟏, 𝟏𝟗𝟕𝟎
── I keep getting this weird butterfly feeling in my stomach whenever I'm near [♥︎]. It's how I feel whenever I like a girl, I know that, and with most girls I don't think twice about showing how I feel, but with her everything's different. I've never felt so seen and understood before. We're really starting a good friendship and I would never want anything to ruin that, so I'm just going to try my best to push these feelings away and not let her find out. She obviously doesn't feel the same way about me because I think I would've noticed, and if she doesn't feel that way then it would be too risky to ask her out on a date. My family find it funny how seriously I handle the idea of falling in love. They say that I talk very… I can’t remember the word? Basically they say I talk about girls like someone older would, and that I take having a crush too serious since I’m only twelve. But I can’t really help that — I think girls are wonderful. Whenever I meet one that makes my heart jump a little, I just have to make it known to her how incredible she is.
That’s my problem. I could’ve told [♥︎] that I really liked her right away when we first met, but I just didn’t want her to find me weird and then not want to be my friend at all. Because I’ll happily be her friend and nothing more — if that’s what she wants.
If I did ask her out, she'd probably assume I was asking her in a friendship kind of way, since Jackie always says that me and her already do the things that couples do. Going to the movies, staying over at mine to play games, going rollerskating, getting ice cream. (All our outdoor hangouts are always supervised by at least two of my brothers, which really irritates me.) But I don't know why he keeps saying those are only couple activities. I love doing all those things myself, so why would I not do them with a friend? And when I say that to him, he tells me it's something about a "certain way" we do those things together.
All my brothers are constantly teasing me about how quickly I've grown so close with a girl I've known for a really short amount of time, but it's only because I'd say I love very easily when I connect well with somebody. It's not common for true friends to come into my life. The white kids at school either don't like to talk to me because I'm black and their parents want me out of the neighborhood, or they follow me around everywhere because I'm a singer. [♥︎] doesn't care that I'm a singer because she is one too, and we just really get each other so well. I can't explain it. I never had a genuine friend before her.
And maybe my brothers are right and I'm too touchy or romantic with her, but I don't mean to be. I'm just having a lot of fun with my first friend — who, okay, I have to admit I also really want to kiss at the same time. One day maybe I will, but I'm too nervous now.
I know she has other friends at school, but she's mostly homeschooled (just like me) and she tells me she can never know who has genuine intentions because everyone knows her as a rising star in the business. That's exactly what I'm going through. We confide in each other a lot about that kind of stuff.
𝓸𝒄𝒕𝒐𝒃𝒆𝒓 𝟖, 𝟏𝟗𝟕𝟐
── Tonight started out horribly, but it soon turned itself around. I've found that recently, writing in this book has helped a lot with registering and understanding my emotions, because when I keep them all pent up I sometimes end up hitting Joseph back after he's hit me. I shouldn't do that, because I only get it even harder afterwards, and it's not fair on mother and everyone else who has to sit and watch. But since I've put my thoughts into written words, I've noticed I can deal with the beatings a lot better. Now I just sit and take it, like a disciplined child should.
Tonight I was beat with both an iron cord and Joseph's belt, because earlier I messed up a line in Never Can Say Goodbye, and I slightly altered one of the dance steps in another song too. Joseph always asked of me to stick to the learned choreography completely, but I sometimes get carried away with myself and want to do my own thing.
When he first saw me tonight, I ran to the bathroom to throw up. I couldn't stop it from happening — I just got so terrified. Then he beat me, while my mother kept screaming for him to leave me alone, but this time I wouldn't yell along with her. Yelling never gets anywhere, because it really feels like Joseph thrives off of how anxious and tense he makes us. I don't think he cares how much he's hurting me. To him, all that's necessary is constant discipline.
But as I said, the night got a lot better soon enough. [♥︎] came over right away when I called her house. I had to wait until Joseph was in the upstairs bathroom, and then I rushed to the telephone and dialled her number. I didn't tell her what happened at first, but I think she could tell from my tone of voice and from the suddenness of my call, because when she climbed through my window and settled under our Mickey and Minnie blanket, she immediately started checking for bruises, and made me get real shy and nervous the way she interlaced her fingers with mine. We do that a lot, and I never get used to how warm and cozy her hands feel.
She snuggled into my chest, held my hand tight and told me I'm the Mickey to her Minnie. I looked at her confused, pointing out that Mickey and Minnie were lovers, which we obviously weren't, but she didn't seem fazed. She just shrugged and moved on with the conversation. What did she mean by that?
𝓪𝒖𝒈𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝟏𝟏, 𝟏𝟗𝟕𝟔
── It's so painful for me to keep watching [♥︎] get taken advantage of by so many horrible guys. She just passed my house in some guy's car, with the top down and she called out for me because she saw me at the fountain. I waved but I just feel so sad. He's only going to use her like all the others, and I don't know why she does this to herself in seeking them out. I've been reading recently about attachment styles, and to me she really seems very avoidant. She always goes out with guys casually and doesn't care what their intentions are, and whenever a nice guy has approached her to take her out on a thoughtful date, she says no. That never made sense to me, but I guess it's starting to make sense if she does have avoidant tendencies. I feel like I'm right about that.
Apparently avoidant people can still eventually be in a real relationship, but they have to feel safe and allow themselves to be loved. That's never going to happen with any of those awful men she lets use her, and I hate that she treats them like the only viable option. She lost her virginity a year ago — she came to me crying about it and she wouldn't stop crying all night until morning. I held her and told her everything would be alright — that she didn't have to feel so guilty — but she said she felt that she'd been used, and that she'd made a huge mistake. I think she did make a mistake, not because of my personal belief in waiting until marriage, but because she gave it up to a guy who really did use her for his own gain. He wasn't gentle with her — she told me it really hurt and that he didn't care. He just kept selfishly assuring her it would feel better in a minute but it never did. And that's when she rushed to my house and collapsed into my arms. I'll never forget that night. How angry I felt for her, how helpless the situation made me feel on her behalf.
I felt disgusted by what she told me. Sex is supposed to be a beautiful, thoughtful act between two people who love each other, and everybody around me doesn't seem to view it that way. They have it all twisted. My brothers sleep with random women out of the audience of our concerts, and they drop them immediately after. Joseph is constantly cheating on mother, and everywhere you go these days you see people almost promoting loveless promiscuity.
Obviously my brothers and Joseph can do whatever they want, and I don't like to judge people outside of my family — but when it comes to my best friend (my only friend, really), I can't stand to see her getting hurt. Men don't get hurt like women do, physically or emotionally. And she's still only a girl — she's seventeen, sixteen when she did it for the first time.
I know this is bad to say and I feel really guilty for writing it down on paper, but as soon as she told me she'd lost her virginity, I wished I'd been the one to take it. A part of me has always hoped that one day she'll fall in love with me, even though she clearly hasn't in all these years and it's not looking likely that she ever will. Maybe one day though, she might view me in a different light.
Or what if she agrees with Joseph? That my nose is too big, or what if there's some other issue about me that she's too polite to point out? My acne has certainly put her off even more. I can't even look most people in the eye these days, I feel so ugly. It's getting a little better now, but there was no way she was ever going to start liking me in the way I want her to while I looked as bad as I have in this last year or so.
Of course boys and girls can be just friends, but we're together so much (whenever we're in the same city) and even though I've spent these last few years trying to ignore my feelings, they've only strengthened the more that I've watched her grow.
Since I properly learned what sex was, I always had this stupid dream that we would lose our virginities to each other. It was such a naive wish but I thought about it a lot, and felt really ashamed. I prayed to God that he'd forgive me for those thoughts.
Even though the people around me and in the strip clubs we've performed at treat sex in such a disgusting way, I believe it's an inherently beautiful thing with the right person. I'm so excited to try it out for the first time but I can't until I get married. That's what mother wants for me, and I also believe in it too. Maybe if [♥︎] had done the same, she wouldn't have been put through so much pain. But I also wouldn't have been able to deal with watching her marry another.
I don't think a man has ever been gentle with her, and she always brushes off every horrible one she meets as if the trauma is nothing, before moving onto the next. When she first started dating these guys she told me all about it, confiding in me about every detail, but she eventually ended up hardly telling me anything. I really think that's because she could see how much I frowned upon her making the same mistakes over and over again, how I'd tell her she needed to respect herself more (which led to a huge argument), so she became too ashamed to say anything. In retrospect, I probably should've worded my point in a different way.
It all makes me so upset. I always want her to confide in me about absolutely everything in her life, not because I'm trying to be intrusive, but because I care about her and need to know she's okay, because we're best friends and we really don't have anyone else we can trust. I'm not judging her in a way where I think she's disgusting for sleeping with men that don't care about her — no, I think the men are the disgusting ones, especially because they're almost always in their early twenties or even older. They're taking advantage of her, and I hate to sit back and watch it happen, so I had to speak to her about it, but like I said now she hardly tells me anything about her love life (if 'love' is even the appropriate term) so by being secretive she's basically preventing me from saying anything at all.
𝓪𝒑𝒓𝒊𝒍 𝟐𝟖, 𝟏𝟗𝟕𝟖
── I have to write this down because I'm so overwhelmed right now, and I can't tell my brothers because they'll laugh at me.
After almost eight years, I finally kissed the girl I've always wanted to kiss more than anybody. It was amazing, just euphoric, but after a bit of silence, she told me she needed to go home for something and rushed off without even hugging me. I can't stop worrying that I've ruined everything, but I'm also very confused because we kissed for at least ten seconds — she was eagerly kissing me back.
Really, it's not the first time our lips have met. We kissed once when we were fourteen, a playful peck that she instigated, and that was awful because it really showed me just how much she felt nothing romantically for me. She just kissed me and laughed it off. I think I've written about that somewhere in my old diary.
But today we kissed for real, and she seemed to like it, or at least that's what I thought before she suddenly took off. I've had girls tell me I'm a good or even a great kisser, but that didn't stop me from being so nervous. I finally told her how I felt, because my brothers kept telling me I needed to or otherwise she'd keep going off with all those different guys that keep traumatizing her psyche. I knew it would be a long shot, but I told her anyway, needing to get it all off my chest. I made it embarrassingly clear that I've adored her since I first laid eyes on her, that she's wonderful and the most beautiful woman alive. People tell her that all the time, but they don't know half the things that make her so beautiful.
I didn't give her complete transparency though, because if I did I would've said that I want to marry her. I do want to marry her. I want that more than anything. But it's not the old days anymore. We might be religious in our family, but while hers do go to church, they're not as devout, so skipping straight to a marriage proposal would definitely have scared her.
I just read that back and I sound real silly, I know, but I guess I'm just so overcome with emotion because I never thought this would happen.
I'm worried though. I didn't expect her to feel the same after so long of seeing me as only a friend, but I also didn't expect how quickly she'd go away. I stupidly tried to deepen the kiss, again another example of my moving too fast, and she pulled away and started to look anxious, like she regretted it. Then she said she had to go, and left without another word. I don't see her as much these days because we both tour, and oh no, I just remembered I forgot to ask when she'd be leaving California again, so I need to call her house. Or maybe I shouldn't. I've probably really scared her. I bet she thinks I've been secretly perving on her all this time.
I should ask my brothers if they've had any similar experience to my situation, but I think the problem here is that when it's between two best friends, confessing your feelings is a huge risk to take. That's why I've always hid the way I've felt. Now my worst nightmare is coming true.
Jackie, Tito, Marlon, Jermaine, they've never had an eight year long friendship with a girl who they're secretly in love with, so really nobody can help me handle this. I know my mother likes her as a person but I don't think she'd like me to choose her as my girl, because mother's always telling me about the 'unsavory' things she sees of her in the paper each week. I always tell her it's just that she likes to have fun, but mother never takes kindly to that answer.
I guess I just have to wait and see if she calls first, or if she comes here to see me. I really hope she does. I won't be able to sleep tonight.
Maybe she'll climb through my window and cuddle in my bed with me and talk, like we always have done. If I've ruined things between us forever, I'll never forgive myself.
𝓶𝒂𝒚 𝟓, 𝟏𝟗𝟕𝟖
── I feel silly reading back my last entry. I overreacted and spoke too soon. [♥︎] called me the day after, apologizing for leaving so quickly, and she told me to give her some space for a few days before she could talk to me comfortably about what I'd told her. Obviously, that still sounded concerning, because the way she worded it made it sound as if I'd made her uncomfortable with my confession, but when she did come to me, everything was clear. Crazy and unbelievable, but finally clear.
She told me she wanted cuddles in my bed, that we should just lie there for a while and rest. So we did, except it didn't take long before she started laughing, telling me my heartbeat was way too fast where her head lay on my chest. She could tell I was anxious, so she came out with everything. I can't go into all the details right now — she's coming over soon, I can see her walking up to the front door from my window. I can't contain my excitement, which is why I started writing this to distract myself before she arrives.
But to sum everything up, she said the most startling, surprising thing of all — like something I could only wish to conjure up in a dream, but instead I've somehow made it my reality.
As she stayed cuddled into my chest, playing with my fingers, she told me that even though she never realized it before, she's been in love with me for years, and had unconsciously pushed the feelings away the entire time, until I said what I did. That's why she needed the time alone to process everything. It turns out I was right that she feels uncomfortable to be loved and taken care of so closely — she explained that's why she's always entertained only men who didn't ask for anything more than sex. She never considered that she might actually want to be taken care of by somebody, even if it might feel strange at first.
I can't believe it but she told me she'll try that out with me, even though it scares her. And I'm more than prepared to go at her pace — whatever she wants. I'm just lucky to have her in at least some kind of romantic way, even if it's not everything all at once. I hear her coming upstairs with Latoya right now. I'm so happy I feel like my heart might burst...
𝓪𝒖𝒈𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝟐𝟓, 𝟏𝟗𝟕𝟖
── I lost my virginity tonight. It was incredible. Just so wonderful... everything I ever dreamed of. I came really fast though... but she said that was okay. I don't know if she was just trying to make me feel better about myself.
Even if that was the case, we immediately did it again where I lasted a little bit longer and I made her cum. I don’t think she’s ever been so beautiful as she was in that moment. And she actually told me that I'm the first guy to ever give her an orgasm. I couldn't believe that, because she’s been with at least a handful of guys before me, but she promised me she was being serious.
God, I'm in love with this woman. I feel bad about what I've done, I feel so bad... (I hope mother doesn't find out ever) but at the same time I feel great. Can't bad things also be great? I guess that's the paradox of life, the duality of it. I know I shouldn't have had sex with her, especially because I know that she's who I will marry, so I should've just waited until then... but I couldn't help myself.
I hope I was okay for her. She told me I was and she guided me through what I didn't know, and her voice was so heavenly in my ear, I just... I need to feel her like that again soon. Tonight. I can't stop thinking about the way she felt. I need her all the time.
I understand now what people mean when they talk so much about lovemaking. I understand why she so desperately wanted to do it with me. But anything she's ever yearned for could never match the force of my yearning right now. I'm going crazy.
She is so divine. My sweet girl... I can't believe she's entirely my own. Forgive me God for I have sinned, but I promise I'll marry her and make it alright.
𝓶𝒂𝒚 𝟐, 𝟏𝟗𝟖𝟏
── This week has been so magical. Me and my beautiful lady are trying for our first child, and this is all I've ever wanted. We've been making love for days, even more than we did when I first lost my virginity to her — every single day for hours into the night, and I've never felt such a surge of love before.
My angel girl will soon be a mama. She'll be the mother of our first child, and I would never try to force her to have all the kids I want but I also really hope she'll be on board with as many as possible. Ever since we were young I've always viewed her to have the perfect qualities of a mother — so gentle and nurturing, so self-assured and empathetic. Sometimes she would play with animals beside me, or she'd play with the children in her family, and every time I'd watch her I would do so in awe, wondering what it might feel like if she one day would have a child of her own, if she would have mine. And now, inconceivably to me, that day is somehow very nearly here.
All that time she spent with those men who used her, back then it felt like those days would never end, that she'd just keep falling back into that same traumatic pattern. It's hard to believe she's been with me now for three years, even though not long before that I'd given up hope. I'll forever recognize how blessed I am to be the one she let down her walls for. I'll never lose sight of that, because I remember how avoidant and guarded she used to be. Three years ago she did something so difficult for herself, gradually beginning to accept real love, a gentle love that I've given her each day since. The love I'll give her each day forward, too.
The first night this week that we were lovemaking, she was giggling all shy and kept covering her face while I smothered her skin in kisses. That sight tugged hard at my heartstrings because it immediately brought me back to our very first time together. I'd despaired for so long that we weren't each other's firsts, but that night in the summer of '78 had felt like a glimpse into what it might have been like if we were. And now this week, she had the same adorable expression on her face, the exact same shy smile as we anticipated making life together. But where once that expression was one of real anxiety and discomfort at being loved so gently and so carefully — an experience so initially unfamiliar to her — now it was an expression displaying true happiness and content. She tells me she feels so safe with me, and that's the best thing I could ever hope to hear. The glint in her eyes when I hold her in bed is so precious... I treasure the sight dearly.
Even though I can't wait to finally find out she's pregnant, I'm going to miss the days we spent making our child. And yes, that statement obviously carries something inherently sexual within it, but I don't even necessarily mean it that way. Me and my baby have amazing sex all the time, and I imagine us to have it even more passionately when she's all glowing during pregnancy — because I won't be able to keep my hands off her, and I've heard about how women crave sex more during pregnancy due to hormonal shifts.
Really, the primary reason that this week will be so special and memorable to me is because of how beautifully emotional it is. I feel like we're ascending every time we make love, as though we're the only two people on earth. Nothing else matters aside from how our bodies entwine, and inside her I suddenly get inspired to write a million heartfelt love songs. I truly can't believe she's a real human being that I get to call my own, and even more so that she's who will bear my child. I'd love our child to have her eyes, her smile... How beautiful that through love, we're creating a being that will share both of our features.
So that's what I mean when I say I cherish this week not only for the sex as a pleasurable and more frequent act, but I cherish it for how deeply emotional the act has been — even more than usual, because I do feel like I always get at least a little emotional when I take her so intimately. My heart is aching with adoration and complete happiness every time I move inside her, every time she makes one of those sweet noises into the air and holds me a little tighter. She's my anchor.
I love when our bodies are pressed together chest to chest as one — it's always been my favorite way to make love. Even better if I can make her laugh in the middle of it, tickling her or poking her nose to bring a smile to her face while she moans in my ear. I like it to be as intimate and as passionate as possible, and my girl's favorite thing is when I cradle her head and whisper to her, which I always do, because I love that just as much as she does. One hand interlaced with hers, and one hand on the back of her head or her jaw to keep her feeling protected. Everything is so heavenly and incredible when we're together like this — I've always been addicted to her body but now I feel like that's somehow been heightened times a thousand since we started trying for our baby. It's such a precious time in our lives — I'll remember this week forever.
𝓯𝒆𝒃𝒓𝒖𝒂𝒓𝒚 𝟐𝟖, 𝟏𝟗𝟖𝟒
── Last night was one of the greatest nights of my life. I won eight Grammys, breaking the record for most awards won in a single night, and my lady won six, setting a new record for the most Grammys ever won by a female artist in one night. Together, we now own the achievement of most Grammys won by a married couple in a single ceremony. I'm amazed that this is real life.
I came home with her when the afterparty was over, although we wanted to leave earlier, and we made the sweetest love all night, not even fully taking off our clothes until the third round. The stars shone outside the windows as I loved on her, and I don't think I've ever felt more satisfied with what I've achieved in life. If the world happened to end here, even though there's so much more I hope to do, I would be proud.
We wore matching glittery numbers, midnight blue embellished with gold, and I thought she just looked so sexy I couldn't take her out of her dress. Reluctantly, when she was getting a little overstimulated after two orgasms I unzipped it and helped her out of it. Now I watch her sleeping beside me as I write this early in the morning, so beautiful like an angel in her slumber, and I hope she's having a magical dream.
I remember what she told me last night, while we laid in each other's naked arms. She said the orbs of my eyes were an ocean of glistening stars, that my smile was born of the gentlest angel. I resent when people comment on my appearance, because even with compliments I don't believe a word they say. They're just trying to flatter me. In some ways I think that's the same with my baby, because she wants to make me feel better, but I could never resent her for that, because everything's different with her. She knows my soul.
𝓭𝒆𝒄𝒆𝒎𝒃𝒆𝒓 𝟑, 𝟏𝟗𝟖𝟒
── Stress is eating me alive at the moment. I haven't had sex with my girl in three weeks, and I just keep trying to make her think it's all down to me being too tired when I get home. But the problem is that we've both had mostly free schedules for the first time in a long time, and usually we'd fill a lot of that freedom with lovemaking. So I know she's secretly confused, maybe concerned, and just doesn't want to bring up the elephant in the room. She probably doesn't want to embarrass me with such an awkward question.
Our sexual distance is all because my vitiligo is spreading. In the beginning, I did hate the patches on my wrists and hands, my forehead, my nose and cheeks... but it was easier to cover those smaller patches, and I didn't feel as self-conscious as I do right now because they just felt like wide, splotchy blemishes of a kind. But now I'm getting worse (my skin is getting worse, and emotionally I am too as a result). I don't know how to deal with the fact that this issue is going to keep on worsening as time passes, and I do believe my baby when she says she loves me unconditionally, but maybe she hasn't really considered what unconditionally might mean. I'm going to look more and more like a freak, so ugly with all these patches of white everywhere.
A few years ago I hated my nose so I changed it, but I can't do anything about this current problem. I'll need to start wearing makeup everyday, and have to keep relying on creams for the condition. The glove I wear onstage is long outdated as a cover-up, because this thing is spreading much further now, but the main problem isn’t how it will affect my public persona (because I can just use makeup and cream for that) — it’s how it affects the woman who wants to see me naked every night.
I need to sort it out quickly, because I keep avoiding intimacy out of fear that I'll be unattractive to her. How would it even be possible that she could want to have sex with me when I look like this? It's winter and I've been covering myself up more, but California is always warm, and I think sometimes she wonders why I'm never without long sleeves and pants. The other day I wanted to swim with her so badly (I love swimming) but I can't. I can't let anyone, not even my girl, see me so deformed, stripped of my normal pigmentation.
I wouldn't even feel comfortable if we made love, if I forced myself through it, because I'd just feel so guilty and awkward about the way I look. I've never enjoyed the sight of my own appearance, but I'm not ignorant and I do understand that my wife obviously married me for reasons other than what's inside. She has tried to reassure me about my looks for years, and I don't think she's lying to me but I guess I just don't see what she sees. In some ways I hate that she's so in love with me, because I think she'll surely fall out of love when she sees what I'm turning into. There are patches on my genitals now and every time I see them I just want to cry.
Someday in the next week, I think I'll have to tell her we need to take a break — I'm not sure for how long. She doesn't deserve me when I'm not at my best. I know we have our son to take care of, but we're already often split as parents because of our opposing schedules with touring and everything else, so our parenting roles won't be affected by this. I just need to be alone for a while. It's strange — even in my hardest moments, I've never felt like distancing myself from my wife, but I don't feel like me at the moment.
𝓶𝒂𝒚 𝟐𝟗, 𝟏𝟗𝟖𝟓
── After a six month break in our marriage, my Tinker Bell has taken me to Disneyland Paris for the weekend. She found out not long after I'd initiated the break what the real reason was for my doing so, and she pleaded with me not to be so ridiculous, assuring me that she would love me no matter how patchy my skin became. But I was just suffering so much at the time that I couldn't listen to her pleas. The way I felt was very similar to how I used to feel as a teenager, when my acne and my nose was all I could think about in every social situation. It was horrible. Just like when I was younger, I couldn't look people in the eye when they talked to me — not even my wife. I rely on sunglasses while I'm out, but I can't exactly wear those in bed. Suddenly, I begun to feel entirely exposed.
After trying so hard to get me to stay and let her take care of me, she finally gave up and allowed me some space. Six months we've been apart, until she called me up one day and asked me out of the blue if I'd like to go to Disneyland. I said of course I would, and now we're here together, in our hotel room, mapping the night’s constellations. I’m still too self-conscious about the changes in my body, and not yet ready for sex again, but she’s telling me she has no issue waiting, and that there’s no need for our break to extend further.
She’s so patient with me, and in a sense that makes me feel guilty — because I hate to mess her around. But she always promises me she doesn’t mind.
𑣲 professor mature era! michael. loves to flirt with his colleague. (you) on purpose.
⊹ ࣪ ˖ 𝒌𝒂𝒊': 𝓗e's manipulative asf with it too. flirty 𝓜ichael & 𝓢kinship & 𝓢mall age gap.
.𖥔 ݁ ˖ imagine professor michael... Your inbox chimed halfway through office hours.
From: Professor M. Jackson
Subject: Quick favor?
Professor,
I think I've made a terrible mistake. I seem to have accidentally given every student an A. Could you stop by and tell me if I'm losing my mind?
Room 214.
You smiled before you could stop yourself. You already knew he was lying. Michael graded like his life depended on it.
but still—Five minutes later, you found yourself outside Room 214. The classroom was empty. Sunlight spilled through the tall windows, stretching across rows of abandoned desks. Michael looked up from the papers scattered over his desk.
"There you are." You crossed your arms. "You don't need help grading."
"No." He smiles shyly. (the fact he has the nerves....)
"So you lied."
"A little." You tried to look annoyed. It lasted about three seconds."You know," you sighed, "one day I'm actually going to ignore your emails." His mouth curved into the smallest smile. "...You won't."
"You sound awfully confident."
"I know you." Your heart betrayed you. He always just.. answered like that, like simple... As though it wasn't even a question. You moved beside his desk, glancing at the stack of exams. "You've already marked these."
"Mm.."
"Soooo...why am I here?" Michael leaned back in his chair. Then His eyes stayed on you, not in a way that made you uncomfortable.
Just... very fond. "I hadn't seen you today." You looked down at the papers to hide your smile. "We had a faculty meeting this morning."
"You were sittin' across the room." You said too quick. "But you saw me."
"I couldn't talk to you." The room grew quiet. You turned another page you weren't actually reading. "You invited me here just because you missed me?"
"I invited you here because I wanted to look at you for five minutes." Your breath caught. "You say things like that far too casually."
"I've been thinkin' 'em all morning." You laughed under your breath, shaking your head. "You are impossible."
"I know." You finally looked up. He was already looking at you, softly, like he always did when nobody else was around. Your cheeks felt warm Michael loved getting you shy, then he smiled. "Shy now..?"
"W-what?" You looked away. "That blush." He smiles even more now. "i-i'm not blushing."
"You are."
"I'm just warm."
"We're in an air conditioned building." You rolled your eyes, then he stood up. Closing the distance between you until only the corner of the desk remained. You should've stepped back.You didn't. "We should stop doing this..professor." you murmured. "Do what? mmh?"
"Look at me... or whatever..until I get embarrassed." a quiet laugh escaped him. "'Cause you're cute."
"You are a forty year old professor."
"And?"
"You should know better."
"I do." His voice softened. "I just don't care when it's you." Your heart folded so fast.
He reached up slowly, giving you every chance to move away. But You never did. His fingertips brushed a loose strand of hair behind your ear. Then, almost absentmindedly, his hand settled against your cheek.
His thumb traced the curve of it once. You closed your eyes for the smallest second. He smiled. "So easy." Your eyes opened. "What?"
"You fold every time..."
"I do not." His thumb brushed your cheek again. even slower this time. "You stop arguin'."
"I..." You realized you had. Michael looked entirely too pleased with himself. "I like this part."
"What part?"
"When you forget what you were gonna say." You huffed a laugh. "I was making a very good point."
"I'm sure you were." His smile became impossibly soft. The papers on the desk remained untouched. Outside, some students crossed the courtyard, completely unaware that two professors had spent the last ten minutes pretending to discuss exams.
michael's hand lingered against your cheek for another heartbeat,Then another. "If we don't start grading these," you whispered, "someone's going to wonder why I've been in here so long." He sighed dramatically. "I suppose." But he didn't move his hand. Instead, he gave your cheek one last gentle caress before finally stepping back, shaking his head with a smile. "...Worth the fake email."
You laughed. "You are unbelievable."
"ain't I?" he chuckles. "And you'll probably fall for the next one, too." You hated that he was right...
turnnoffyourmind
yousharknotpass
theartofmadeline
stormborns
