✿ Â Bad Achë ❀
Pairing: Michael Jackson x fem!reader
Synopsis: Michael has been trying to find himself as a new adult
Tags: Family friend, Love, Overstimulation, new flame.
TW: anticipation, Sex, orgasm, p in v, and other sexual orientation.
Requested: No/ Yes
Word count: too lazy to look
Taking requests
An: Listen to “Shoop Shoop” by Whitney Houston from waiting to exhale
Hawaii, 1977 — The Jackson family vacation
The ocean was warm. Salty and gentle, it lapped at your skin as the sun hung low over the horizon, casting a golden light that made everything look like a dream. The Jacksons had rented out an entire section of the resort — a beachfront hideaway tucked between cliffs and palms. It was beautiful. But what made it better was that you were with them.
You’d been close to the family for years. Your parents had known Joe and Katherine since before you could talk, and you grew up tagging along on trips and gatherings like you were just another sibling. You knew each of the Jackson boys like family.
But Michael…
Michael was different.
He was quiet and kind in a way that sneaked up on you. Funny, but soft-spoken. He had this thoughtful air about him, like he was always somewhere between dreaming and observing. At 18, he was still figuring himself out — not quite the megastar he was becoming, but no longer a kid. Just Michael. And when he looked at you now, something in his eyes felt… new.
You were in the water, just past where the waves broke. The sun glinted off your wet skin, droplets tracing the curve of your collarbone. Your laughter echoed across the shore as you splashed Jackie, and Tito retaliated with a roar and a wave of his arms that sent water flying.
Michael was closer to shore, arms crossed, standing in the shallows with the water just brushing his hips. He watched you — and tried not to make it obvious. But God, you looked beautiful. Hair slicked back, skin glowing, smile wide. He swallowed thickly, his fingers twitching against his sides.
“You gonna come in or just admire from a distance?” you teased, paddling closer.
He chuckled, a quiet, nervous sound. “Maybe both.”
You raised a brow. “Is that so?”
Michael shrugged, but his eyes lingered on you longer than they used to. He was bolder today. The way he looked at you made something low in your stomach twist — not in discomfort, but in that warm, aching way that had been building for a while now. You hadn’t wanted to name it before.
Now you were starting to wonder if he felt it too.
After a while, the family wandered back toward the hotel. Towels slung over shoulders, wet footprints leading up the sand. Laughter echoing, someone yelling that dinner was in an hour. You started to follow, but Michael caught your wrist.
“Hey,” he said, softly. “Wanna stay out here for a bit?”
You looked at him — his curls still damp, shirt stuck to his chest, eyes a little unsure but hopeful.
You nodded. “Yeah. Let’s stay.”
You sat on a low, sun-warmed rock near the dunes. The ocean stretched out in front of you, slowly darkening with the sky. The breeze lifted your hair, and Michael sat close — not quite touching, but almost.
“You ever think about all this?” he said suddenly, eyes on the water. “Life. Like… where we’re going. Who we’re supposed to be?”
You glanced at him. He wasn’t just making conversation. He meant it.
“All the time,” you said. “It’s scary. But exciting too. Like I’m waiting for something and I don’t know what.”
He nodded. “Yeah. Same. I feel like… I’m learning who I am, and every day I change a little. But sometimes I still feel like a kid.”
You looked at him then, really looked. “You’re not a kid, Michael.”
He smiled faintly. “No? What am I?”
You swallowed, your heart thudding in your chest. “You’re… you. And that’s kind of everything.”
There was a silence between you. Not awkward — just heavy. His eyes were on you now, and you felt it all over. The weight of his gaze, the closeness of his body. The air was thick with tension, charged like the edge of a storm.
And then, he kissed you.
It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t bold. Just a brush of his lips against yours, soft and trembling. He pulled back slightly, searching your face.
“Was that okay?” he asked.
You nodded, breathless. “Do it again.”
He smiled, a slow, shy thing — then leaned in and kissed you deeper. His hand found your cheek, fingers curling into your hair. You kissed like you’d been waiting all summer for this, like years of closeness had built to this exact moment. The warmth, the ache, the wanting.
His hand trailed down your side, resting on your hip. You shifted, pulled him closer, and suddenly he was against you, his body pressed along yours, heat radiating through his skin.
“We shouldn’t,” he murmured against your neck. “But I can’t stop wanting to.”
“Me neither.”
He took your hand and stood. “Come with me.”
You followed him through a narrow trail between palms, up to a secluded little cabana nestled behind a wall of green. A place the family had used for storage, but it had privacy, shade, quiet.
Inside, it smelled of wood and sea air. The sun filtered through woven bamboo walls. Michael stood in front of you, chest rising and falling. His hands trembled slightly as he reached for your waist.
“You sure?” he asked, voice hoarse.
You nodded. “I want this. I want you.”
The kiss turned heated fast. Hands roamed, clothes fell away — the tension between you breaking like a wave. He laid you down on a soft blanket spread on the wooden floor, kissed every inch of you like you were something holy.
You touched him too — the strength in his arms, the softness of his skin, the curve of his back. He gasped when you stroked him, his body shivering with need.
When he entered you, it was careful. His eyes locked on yours. His breath caught as your body accepted him, slowly, inch by inch. He moved gently, easing into you like he was afraid to break the moment — or you.
You gasped, hand curling into his back. It wasn’t painful, just intense — so full, so close. You’d never felt anything like it. You could feel every bit of him, the way he fit inside you, the tremble in his arms as he held himself up. His body was lean but strong, all smooth muscle under soft, warm skin, flexing as he adjusted his hips.
“Is this okay?” he asked, his voice shaky, buried somewhere in the curve of your neck. He kissed your shoulder. “Tell me if it’s too much…”
You cupped his cheek, eyes searching his. “It’s perfect. You’re perfect.”
That lit something in him. His hips began to move — slow at first, rocking gently into you. Each thrust drew a soft sound from your lips, each grind of his pelvis brushed your most sensitive spot. He was learning your body, paying attention. Watching the way your breath hitched, how your legs pulled him closer.
The sound of your bodies filled the cabana — the soft creak of the floor beneath the blanket, your quiet gasps, his low moans against your skin. It was warm, the air thick with sweat and sea breeze, your limbs tangled beneath him as he moved inside you like he never wanted to stop.
You ran your hands over his back, down his spine, feeling every shift of his muscles, every shiver. His rhythm built slowly — a push, a pull, your hips rising to meet him each time.
“God… you feel so good,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to your mouth, his lips slick with sweat. “I’ve never… not like this…”
Your legs wrapped around his waist, and he groaned when you drew him deeper. His thrusts grew more urgent, his control faltering, eyes squeezed shut as he tried to hold on.
You could feel yourself climbing higher with him — that unbearable ache tightening in your belly, coiling hotter, faster.
“Michael,” you moaned, clutching at his shoulders, arching into him.
“I know,” he panted, face buried against your chest. “I feel it too… Baby, I’m so close…”
His movements grew messier, desperate now — hips driving harder, deeper, his breath ragged, his body slick with sweat. You held him close, skin to skin, every nerve ending burning. His name slipped from your mouth again and again, like prayer, like a plea.
And then it happened — a white-hot rush that flooded through you, shaking you apart. You cried out, clutching him tight as your body trembled, waves of pleasure rolling through you in a dizzying rush.
Michael followed just after, letting out a low, broken moan as he buried himself deep, his whole body tensing. You felt the warmth of him spill inside you, and he collapsed against you with a shudder, chest heaving.
He didn’t move for a long time. Just lay there, wrapped around you, his hand stroking your side, his lips brushing lazy kisses over your collarbone, your cheek, your jaw.
“I didn’t know it could feel like that,” he whispered. “I didn’t know you could feel like this.”
You smiled, fingers curling into his hair. “Me neither.”
The waves crashed softly outside. And in the quiet of that hidden cabana, wrapped in Michael’s arms, you felt the ache settle in your chest — deep and sweet.
Something had changed between you. And you didn’t want it to go back.