#probably ovulating

[fawwnedover]

yum

[michi-y4]

⋆˚꩜｡ This special gift 🤍(MINORS DO NOT ENTER)

Y’all already know what this is about to be😼 but yeah quick summary. It’s Christmas weekend and there is a gathering at the Jackson families house and Michael and reader so happen to be in that mood but can’t really go at it like they usually do so the have to be very sneaky and try and quiet do things while no one I watching

WORD CONT : 2,892 bc I worked hard on this😿

⋆𐙚❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔* ⋆𐙚❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔* ⋆𐙚❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*

The Jackson house glowed with Christmas lights strung across every doorway, the scent of pine, baked beans, ribs and sweet potato pie drifting through the crowded rooms. Music from the record player mixed with laughter and the clink of glasses as relatives and friends filled the downstairs. Michael, fresh off the tour with his hair still slightly fluffed and messy from the stage, kept stealing glances at you across the living room. You were the only one who caught the heat behind his soft brown eyes.

Michael moved through it all with that easy, gentle smile he always wore in public, but every so often his eyes found yours across the room.

You were the only one who saw the quiet spark behind them. He kept his distance at first, chatting with cousins and greeting guests, but the glances grew longer. Each time he looked your way, the warmth in his gaze lingered a little more. You stayed near the tree, sipping a drink, feeling the pull between you even with so many people around.

After a while Michael drifted closer. He stopped beside you like it was nothing, reaching for a cookie from the tray on the table. His shoulder brushed yours for just a second. "You look beautiful tonight," he murmured, voice low enough that only you could hear. "That dress... it’s doing something to me."

You smiled into your glass, heart already picking up speed. "Michael, there are people everywhere." "I know," he said, still smiling at the room like nothing was happening. "That’s why it’s hard to stop looking at you." He took a small bite of the cookie, then leaned in again. "Meet me upstairs in a few minutes. My room. Don’t rush take your time so nobody notices." “Michael..” you sighed.

He moved away before anyone could wonder why he’d lingered. You waited, chatting with Latoya about the decorations, letting five slow minutes pass. The house felt warmer now, the party louder. When you finally slipped away, you climbed the stairs quietly, heart thudding with every step. Michael’s bedroom door was already open a crack. He pulled you inside the moment you reached it, closing it softly behind you. The lock clicked. Up close he looked flushed, his body hot from the heat downstairs.

"We have to be careful," he whispered, pressing his forehead to yours. "They’ll notice if we’re gone too long." His hands rested on your waist, thumbs stroking the sides of your waist through the fabric of your dress. He didn’t rush to undress you. Instead he just held you there, breathing you in, letting the tension build between you just admiring you and you’re body.

You reached up and touched his face, tracing the line of his jaw. "I’ve been thinking about this all night."

"Me too," he admitted, voice soft. His fingers slid up your back, finding the zipper of your dress but stopping short of pulling it down. "I want to take my time with you... but we can’t. Not really." He kissed you then slow, deep, tasting faintly of the sweet drinks from downstairs. His tongue moved against yours in unhurried strokes, like he was memorizing the moment.

The bed waited behind you. Michael guided you toward it without breaking the kiss, easing you down onto the mattress. The springs gave a quiet creak that made both of you freeze and listen. When no footsteps came, he climbed over you, settling between your thighs. His body was warm and solid above yours, still fully clothed. He kissed along your neck, careful not to leave marks. "Tell me if you hear anything," he breathed against your skin. His hand slid under your dress, palm gliding up your thigh in a slow caress. He didn’t push your panties aside yet. Instead he just rested his fingers there, feeling the heat of you through the thin fabric, letting the anticipation stretch.

"We gotta be fast," he whispered, now tugging at your dress. "They’ll notice if we’re gone too long." He said. You helped him with his shirt, fingers brushing the smooth skin of his chest. His hands slid up your thighs, pushing your panties aside. Two fingers found your pussy and rubbed slow circles until you were wet enough for him. Michael kept his eye contact making sure to see every reaction, every expression and sound, Mike was breathing in the same careful rhythm you were trying to hold. The house below still hummed with voices and music, but up here the only sound was the soft drag of fabric as he shifted his weight. His hand stayed between your thighs, warm and steady. He didn’t rush. Instead he traced slow circles over the thin cotton of your panties, feeling how the material clung to you now.

"You’re already soaked through," he whispered,he leaned into your face almost smiling against your mouth. His fingers pressed a little firmer, rubbing the damp spot in lazy strokes that made your hips twitch. He watched your face the whole time you were a sopping mess whimpering and moving, Michael’s eyes half-lidded, body falling forward enjoying the sight. Every few seconds he paused to listen, head tilting toward the door, but his fingers never left you.

When the coast stayed clear he finally slid his hand inside your panties. His fingertips found your clit first, circling it with the same unhurried patience. The touch was light at first, barely there, just enough to make your breath catch. He kept doing it, drawing small, steady patterns that made your thighs tense around his wrist. You could feel how careful he was being, how he wanted to stretch every second.

Footsteps passed in the hallway again. Michael froze, two fingers resting right over your entrance but not pushing in yet. “Yo Mike you in here Marlon and the rest of us wanna know if you feel like hooping later.” It was Jermaine “Yeah just give me a moment I’m handling something I’ll be there in a little bit” Micheal said. “ alright don’t be too long.”

You both held still until the he walked away and his footsteps faded. Only then did Michael ease one finger inside you, slow and deliberate, sinking in knuckle by knuckle. The stretch was gentle, his finger curling just enough to press against that sensitive spot inside. He added a second finger after a moment, working them in and out with the same measured pace, thumb still brushing your clit on every stroke. “Damn..this-mhhh”

"Quiet," he breathed against your ear, even though you hadn’t too loud. His free hand stayed laced with yours above your head, grounding both of you. He kept listening, kept checking the door with quick glances, but his fingers never stopped moving. They slid deeper, scissored gently, then pulled back to rub over your clit again in wet, slick circles. The bed stayed silent. The party downstairs stayed loud. And Michael stayed right there, taking his time, drawing it out, making sure every touch lasted as long as he could risk.

"You’re already so soaked," he whispered, footsteps passed in the hallway again. Michael froze, two fingers resting deep in your entrance. You both held still until the sound faded. Only then he started to go faster with his fingers setting a good pace his fingers deeper than before and super wet his knuckles a covered in your cun and wetness The stretch was wonderful , his finger curling just enough to pound against that sensitive spot inside. His thumb still brushing your clit on every stroke.

"Shhh," he warned when you moaned. Downstairs someone laughed loudly, footsteps moving near the stairs. “ just suck me off now.” He whispered out.

Michael’s breathing had become ragged, the rhythm of his fingers inside you pushing him toward a breaking point. He felt the tremors racking your body, the way you clung to him in a desperate attempt to stay silent. With a low, shaky exhale, he slowly slipped his fingers out, the wet sound of them leaving you loud in the sudden quiet of the room. He didn't pull away completely; instead, he shifted, sliding down the bed until he was positioned between your legs, his eyes dark and heavy with need.

He reached for the button of his pants, his movements quick but still cautious. As he freed his dick, it sprang forward, thick and pulsing it was beautiful shaved just grown out a bit his dick was also already glistening at the tip. He looked up at you, his skin damp and sweaty, a look of raw hunger crossing his face that contrasted sharply with his usual gentle demeanor.

"Please," he whispered, the word barely a breath. "I need you to..."

He didn't have to finish the sentence. You slid down the mattress, your knees framing his hips. The scent of him a mix of his cologne and the musk of arousal filled your senses. You leaned in, your lips brushing against the head of his divk first, tasting the salty bead of pre-cum. Michael let out a sharp, stifled gasp, his hips jerking upward instinctively. He quickly clamped a hand over his own mouth, his eyes widening as he remembered where they were.

You smiled against his skin, knowing exactly how much power you had in this moment. You wrapped your lips around him, sliding your mouth over the head and taking him in slowly. He was hot and hard, filling your mouth completely. You swirled your tongue around the ridge, sucking firmly, creating a vacuum that made his entire body tense.

Michael’s hand moved from his mouth to the back of your head, his fingers tangling in your hair. He wasn't pushing you, but he was guiding you, his grip tightening every time you sucked deeper. He let out a muffled groan into the pillow, his chest heaving. Every time a burst of laughter echoed from the hallway or a loud song changed downstairs, he would freeze, his muscles locking up, his heart hammering against his ribs.

You didn't stop. You used your hand to stroke the base of his shaft while your mouth worked the top, sliding up and down in a rhythmic, wet motion. You looked up at him through your lashes, watching the way his head tossed back, his eyes closed tight in ecstasy. He was trembling now, the risk of being caught only adding to the intensity of the pleasure.

"Jesus, y/n," he whimpered, his voice strained and thin. He began to thrust his hips upward, meeting your mouth with more urgency, his breaths coming in short, jagged hitches. He was chasing the edge, his fingers clutching your hair as he drove himself deeper into your throat, the wet, slapping and quiet gagging sounds of your mouth on his cock filling the small space between you. He soon got up and positioned himself in between yourlegs in missionary dragging his tip up and down your slit flicking your clit each time

"You’re so wet," he whispered, almost in awe. "Even with everyone downstairs." He leaned in for another kiss, deeper this time, while his dick continued to slide along your folds without entering. The bed stayed still. The house stayed loud with tension, both of you breathing harder but refusing to rush.

Michael pushed in inch by inch slowly. "Shhh," he warned when you moaned. Downstairs someone laughed loudly, footsteps moving near the stairs.

When you adjusted Michael Han pushed in with one steady thrust, burying himself deep. You bit your lip hard to stay quiet while he started fucking you in short, careful strokes. The bed creaked once, he froze, listening, then kept going, hips rolling against yours. Sweat beaded on his forehead. He kissed you to muffle the sounds, tongue sliding against yours while his cock kept pumping.

Every time voices grew louder outside the door he slowed down, sometimes stopping completely with his dick still inside you, both of you holding your breath. Then the footsteps passed and he started again, faster, chasing the risk. His hand slipped between you to rub your clit, pushing you closer.

"Gonna cum," you breathed against his neck. He nodded, thrusting harder, the headboard tapping the wall three times before he caught it with his free hand.

Your pussy clenched around him as you came, body shaking under his. Michael followed seconds later, burying his face in your shoulder to stay silent while he filled you with hot cum. He stayed inside you for a moment, both of you breathing hard, listening to the party continue below.

He pulled out carefully, grabbed tissues from the nightstand, and cleaned you up. You fixed your dress and hair while he tucked himself away and smoothed his shirt. Before you opened the door he kissed you once more, quick and secret.

"Go down first," he whispered. "I’ll come in a minute."

You slipped back into the hallway, heart still pounding, the taste of him still on your lips as you rejoined the Christmas gathering like nothing had happened.

The air downstairs felt different now it felt…heavier, charged with a secret that made your skin tingle. You blended back into the crowd, the smell of sweet potato pie and pine now mixing with the phantom scent of Michael’s musk that still clung to your skin. Every time a relative spoke to you or a cousin laughed, you felt a jolt of electricity, knowing that just a few rooms away, Michael was composing himself, his cock likely still tingling from the way you'd squeezed him.

When Michael finally descended the stairs, he looked perfectly poised. His clothes were smoothed, his shirt tucked in, and that shy, gentle smile was firmly in place. But as he navigated the living room, his eyes locked onto yours. There was a predatory glint there, a hunger that hadn't been fully sated by that one frantic session.

He didn't come straight to you. Instead, he played the part of the dutiful son and brother, chatting with Tito and laughing with his mother. But every few minutes, he’d find a way to drift past you. As he walked by, his hand "accidentally" brushed against your hip, his fingers digging in just slightly, a silent reminder of how he’d held you pinned to the mattress.

As the evening progressed, the party shifted toward the dining room for dinner. In the chaos of everyone pulling out chairs and passing heavy platters of ham and collard greens, Michael managed to slide into the seat directly beside you. Under the table, hidden by the long white tablecloth.

You nearly gasped, your fork pausing halfway to your mouth. You looked at him, and he was calmly sipping a glass of water, talking to Janet about a new song idea, his expression completely innocent. But beneath the table, his foot was venturing higher, pushing the fabric of your dress up until his toes pressed firmly against the sensitive skin of your inner thigh.

The risk was intoxicating. You were surrounded by his entire family, the very people who would be horrified if they knew what had just happened upstairs. You shifted your legs, trying to create more space, but that only encouraged him. He pressed harder, his foot sliding further up until he found the damp heat between your legs. He began to rub his toes against your clit through your panties, a slow, rhythmic pressure that made your breath hitch.

"You okay, y/n?" Ms Katharine asked from across the table, noticing your sudden stillness.

Michael didn't miss a beat. He reached over and placed a hand on your shoulder, his touch warm and supportive. "She's just tired, Mama. It's been a long day," he said, his voice smooth as silk. While his voice was soothing, his foot gave a sharp, deliberate press against your nub, making your toes curl inside your shoes.

You let out a small, shaky exhale, your face flushing. You leaned into him, whispering under the cover of the loud conversation, "Michael, stop... we're at dinner."

He leaned in closer, his lips almost touching your ear, his breath hot. "I can't stop thinking about how you felt," he murmured, his voice dropping an octave, becoming that raw, hungry tone from the bedroom. "I want you again. And this time, I don't want to be so careful."

He withdrew his foot slowly, leaving you aching and desperate. For the rest of the meal, the tension between you was a living thing, stretching tight like a wire. Every glance, every accidental touch, every shared smile was a promise. As the party began to wind down and guests started drifting toward the living room for coffee and dessert, Michael caught your eye and gave a tiny, almost imperceptible nod toward the hallway.

You waited a few minutes, then slipped away, pretending to head toward the restroom. You didn't stop there. You hurried back up the stairs, your heart hammering against your ribs. The moment you stepped into his room and closed the door, you didn't even have time to lock it before Michael was there, slamming you against the wood of the door.

He didn't waste time with whispers this time. He groaned into your neck, his hands gripping your waist and hoisting your legs up around his hips.

“This time I don’t care if they hear us” he whispered in your ear

This is going to be a long night

𐙚 ❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔* ⋆𐙚❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔* ⋆𐙚❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔* ⋆𐙚❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*

It’s literally no where near Christmas but feel th spirit ig🔥

[birdbyt3]

how’s the view?

[xxcherrycoke]

crazy time of the month

[sillysharkyipee]

started watching blue lock today, no spoilers please, but does jinpachi ego become like the devil himself at any point, cause currently he’s like my favorite ever and he’s so FINEEEE

[that2020girl]

I *need* to bite someone.

Any edible moots?😔

[girl-blogging-angel-xoxo]

Ovulation has me going insane

[witchzcvm]

reading on wattpad when desperate is like revisiting a drug you got clean from whenever a story mentions ‘🍋’ or ‘his member’ i feel like such a virgin reading there