Synopsis: Meeting Michael’s parents for the first time. He’s nervous, you’re nervous but you’re ready for whatever happens at Hayvenhurst.
Pairing: OTW!Michael Jackson x black fem!reader
Word Count: 2.2k
Warnings: None.
Drea's note: Requested by a lovely anon. I hope I did it justice! Lmk what you guys think. Feedback is always welcome.
Friday, June 1980
The night breeze slipped through your bedroom window as you got ready for bed. Your day was exhausting. A Friday double shift at the restaurant across the street had your feet throbbing and your head spinning, but anything to keep the lights on, right?
You stepped out of the bathroom in fresh pyjamas and fluffy socks, plopped onto your bed, and sighed. All you wanted was a warm cup of hot chocolate and some late-night TV, but even that simple plan was disturbed.
Your landline rings, its piercing sound deafening, as you head to the kitchen to make a hot drink. Reaching the phone near the peninsula, you pick it up and answer in a defeated tone.
“Hello?”
“Hey, doll,” Michael’s soft voice carries through the line, “How are you?”
“Tired as hell, Mike.” You reply with a sudden calmness, walking around the kitchen with the phone propped between your ear and shoulder.
“I bet…” He trails off, taking a deep breath as if preparing himself for what he’s about to say.
You don’t rush him, taking the silence as an opportunity to grab a carton of milk — the line too short to reach the fridge. You pour the hot chocolate powder into your mug and place the kettle on the stove, waiting for it to boil.
“Mike?” You pick up the phone again.
“Yeah— yeah, I’m still here, doll, I just…” He trails off again. You can hear rustling over the line, as if he’s shifting positions wherever he’s seated.
“You just what? Hmm?”
“I was thinking that maybe tomorrow…you could come over and umm, you know…” Michael stammers over the phone. He’s twirling the cable in his large hands, but you can’t see that.
“Mike,: Your voice comes out a lot sterner than you intended, exhaustion matting your irritable.
“I want you to come over and meet my parents,” he finally spits out, instantly noticing your annoyed tone.
You’d been official with Michael for about 7 months now, not too long but not an ignorable time either. He promised to keep you away from the limelight, knowing that that attention was not something you wanted for yourself. However, that meant keeping you away from his family home, which inevitably meant keeping you away from his parents, too. You were okay with this, knowing how Michael’s home situation was stressful in ways you wouldn’t fully understand. Michael never fully disclosed everything that had happened in his life, but you could tell from context clues and public interviews that he wasn’t fond of his father.
“Including Joseph, yeah.” Michael answered the unspoken question, clearing his throat before continuing, “Bill and I can pick you up and uh…yeah. Tomorrow. Please?”
“Gee, Mike, are you sure?” Your question is soft, not demanding.
“Yeah. I want my family to know you. I’m serious about you, doll.”
You smile as you pour freshly boiled water into your mug and add milk.
“Ok, my love. I’ll be ready by 8am tomorrow.” You hum over the phone, and Michael hangs up, sensing your need for ‘me time’.
Saturday, June 1980
Morning breaks faster than you expected, birds chirp, and dogs bark down the street as their owners walk them to a local park. You sluggishly step out of bed and head to your bathroom, putting rollers in your silk press to curl your hair up for today. You shower to the soft sound of music on the radio, taking your time to scrub away any sleepiness. When you finally step out of the shower, you rub cocoa butter lotion on your body and beat your face in a soft pink makeup undo before putting on a summer dress with red loafers Michael bought you for your birthday. When you finish removing the rollers from your hair, you pick it out and fluff it up with a hair pick.
Your doorbell rings shortly after, and you unlock it to reveal Michael standing on the other side.
“Hi, handsome.” You tease, grabbing your purse before stepping out and following him to the Rolls-Royce. Bill is comfortable sitting in the driver’s seat as Michael opens the back seat and helps you in.
“Morning, Bill.” He greets you, too, turning the engine on after Michael enters the car beside you. You can tell he’s nervous — you are too, but you keep it together for the sake of both of you.
The car ride is quiet, palm trees swoosh by as the road unfolds before you. Michael’s leg bounces in nervous anticipation as you near closer and closer to the Hayvenhurst Estate. When you finally reach the large gates, you duck down to avoid being photographed by groupies standing outside. Bill parks the car near the entrance, and you straighten yourself out, hoping for the best. Beside you, Michael looks somewhat pale, the reality of the situation finally hitting him.
“Uh, ok, uh,” he starts, “Just uh…wait here, alright? I’ll be— I’ll be right back uh.” And with that, he’s out of the car, dashing to the house without explanation and leaving you with Bill.
“He’s nervous. Been planning this for weeks now but kept postponing,” Bill pipes up, still sitting in the car with you, “I guess he finally figured he’d get it over and done with today.”
“I’m nervous too, Bill. Ain’t really looking forward to meeting his father,” you respond honestly, fiddling with your purse, “seems like I mean man.”
Bill nods and hums in response, knowing exactly what you’re implying. He’s seen it all while working for the family, specifically Michael. He’d have to watch Michael silently cry in the backseat of the car after an argument with his father, needing some time away from the estate. There were times when Bill wanted to intervene, tell Joseph to leave the boy alone, but he stayed out of it, knowing it wasn’t his place.
Soon enough, Michael’s trotting back to the car and opening the car door, holding out his large hand for you as he helps you out of the car. Without wasting any more time, he leads you into the house and to the large living room where his mother and father occupy.
“Good morning,” you grin, placing your purse on a small table near one of the couches.
Katherine is the first to respond. She stands up and gives you a warm hug. “It’s so nice to finally meet the woman Michael won’t shut up about.”
Joseph, on the other hand, stays seated. He looks you up and down, judging every inch of your form with harsh eyes before he nods silently.
Michael clears his throat and introduces you to his parents, motioning for you to sit beside him on a warm couch that rests across his parents.
“So, mother, Joseph, this is my girl,” Mike spoke with forced calmness, holding your knee for support.
“It’s very nice to meet you both.” You place your hand over his, keeping your gaze on his parents.
“I’m surprised,” Joseph’s monotone voice carries through the room, and Michael's hand on your knee tightens, waiting for whatever his father has to say, “I’m surprised you stuck around long enough to date my son, given his softness and all.”
Your mouth parts slightly in shock. Michael’s hand goes slack, and you can quite literally feel the pain forming in him. How could someone say something so hurtful about their own son? Just like that?
“Michael is very gentle, yes, but I appreciate that about him, especially in a world where men are so comfortable hurting women they claim to love.” You throw the insult back in Joseph’s face, gracefully defending your man in the process. Katherine’s grin widens in response, enjoying your fierceness.
“So you like one of them sissy men, huh?” Joseph continues.
“I love your son, that is all,” you force the words out with a smile, looking at Michael to reassure him.
Katherine clears her throat and pops up, “You two look adorable together. How long have you been official?”
“About 7 months now, ma’am . 7 good months.” You shift in your seat, brushing Michael’s cheek.
The air between all four of you is thick, Joseph’s eyes piercing through you as you continue your conversation with Katherine. You begin to feel uncomfortable with the situation, but you push through, telling Katherine about your waitressing work in the city.
“Ah, so that’s why you’re so warm and welcoming,” Katherine laughs, holding your gaze, “so how has it been dating Michael? The fame he carries is quite heavy. How have you managed it in your relationship?”
“It’s been a challenge sometimes. We can’t just go out in public together, but Michael always finds a way to plan romantic dates for us on private beaches and in my apartment.”
Katherine melts at that. The idea of her son putting in all that work to make time for you, to make time for your relationship, is sickeningly sweet.
Joseph merely scoffs, sitting with his legs obnoxiously spread out in an attempt to assert dominance.
“Fame ain’t something you’re after, girl? Not at all?” Joseph questions with a doubtful tone, “I’m not buying this, this ‘I don’t wanna be famous’ shit,” he shrugs.
A pause
“May you show me where the bathroom is?” You turn to Michael with a forced smile. He nods and stands up, leading you to the guest bathroom. You pull Michael into the bathroom with you, then close and lock the door.
“What the hell is wrong with him? I mean, god, he’s insufferable. The way he speaks to you? The way he speaks aboutyou? It’s disgusting!” You whisper-shout, pacing around the small room.
“I’m used to it now, doll. Don’t worry about it,” Michael sighed defeatedly, “it’s alright—“
“Alright? Hell no, it’s not ‘alright’!” You comment, your hands on your hips, “I’m so close to blowing up at your father right now, and trust me, I’m trying to stay calm.”
Your chest rises and falls with anger targeted at Joseph. Michael just watches you and bites his bottom lip in an attempt to keep himself calm as well.
“I’m sorry, doll.” He whispers, placing his forehead to yours, “I…I thought he’d be calmer today.”
You take a deep breath and rest your arms around Michael’s shoulders. “Do you have to deal with this every day?”
“Yeah, but I’m used to it now. He’s my father, I have to honour him as my father.”
“Oh, please don’t start with that Bible talk. Please.” You close your eyes and shake your head. “He’s pissing me straight off right now, and I’m not going to listen to you bring scripture into this.”
Michael holds his breath for a moment before speaking, “Alright, how about we just tell them you’ve gotta go back to the city for an afternoon shift? Cut things short.”
You nod, pressing a soft kiss to his lips while your arms slide off his shoulders. With that, you both exit the bathroom and return to the living room, taking your seats before you answer Joseph’s hanging question.
“I’ve never desired to be in the limelight. My life is just fine away from the public eye.”
“Really? Is that why you decided to date such an influential man like my son?” Joseph scoffs and chuckles, turning to Katherine now. “She doesn’t like fame but gets all romantic with a Jackson. A Jackson.”
Your mouth twitches in barely hidden anger, clenching your hands into fists on your lap. Michael sits beside you in silence, letting you handle this on your own. He knows better than to fight a battle for you.
“Mr Jackson, with all due respect, you do not know me. If I wanted to be in the spotlight, I would have called the press on Michael and me months ago, but I haven’t. I have kept my relationship with Michael away from prying eyes for this long. What makes you think that I’m going to suddenly change my stance on being unknown?”
Joseph’s mouth falls open in shock, disbelief written all over his face. He’s met many of his sons’ girlfriends, but none of them has had the audacity to question him directly. Katherine tightens her robe with a knowing smirk, soaking in your defiance as her eyes meet Michael in a silent “I like her” manner.
Michael smiles back at his mother, his posture straightening as he revels in his mother’s silent praise. He looks at his father and musters the courage to speak. “She’s a good woman, Joseph, and I plan on being with her for a long time. Thank you. We’ll be leaving now. I want to show her around the estate before she leaves for work.”
Katherine nods with a big smile on her face, and Joseph scoffs and chuckles to himself. Michael is first to stand, holding out his hand to lead you out of the living room.
“I’m gonna kill one day, you know?” You mumble as you walk with Mike to his bedroom. He doesn’t respond, simply chuckling at your words before placing a gentle kiss to the top of your forehead.
contains: sexual themes, fingering, squirting , dom!mature michael. fem!reader & use of ! baby & mama. kinda rushed? ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ໒꒱
݁ ˖Ი𐑼⋆ mature!michael barely looked up from the papers spread across the table when you walked into the room.
“Baby,” he said softly, already reaching for you the second you got close enough. You sighed dramatically. “You’ve been ignoring me for an hour.”
“I’m working.”
“Yeah..sure.” He finally glanced up then, amused by the pout on your face. Mature era Michael always had that unfairly calm expression when he knew he was getting under your skin. “Come here,” he murmured. You stepped between his knees and immediately his hands settled on your hips, warm and possessive through the thin fabric of your skirt. He leaned back in the chair, staring at you quietly for a second before smiling a little. “Attitude today?”
“You started it.” You rolled your eyes. “Oh, did I?” His fingers slid slowly along your thighs, teasing, unhurried. The movement made you inhale sharply and he noticed immediately, eyes darkening just slightly. Michael loved that—loved seeing your composure crack first.
. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.
“Mama,” he said lowly, thumb rubbing against your skin while you tried not to react, “you get needy so fast.” You rolled your eyes, but it was weak. “S-shut up.” That only made him laugh softly. “So pretty when you’re pretending not to want me.”
The worst thing about Michael was how patient he was. He’d keep you right there between his legs, touching you slowly until your hands ended up gripping his shoulders for balance. Meanwhile he stayed completely composed, looking up at you with that lazy little smile like he had all the time in the world. “Look at you,” he murmured. “Can barely stand still. Mmh.”
“Michael…” You bite your lip. “Mmhh..There she is,” he whispered instantly, voice warm with satisfaction the second you finally sounded desperate for him. “That’s my baby.” He smirks and bite his lips. “You’re gonna’ have to keep it down mama, if you don’t want to get caught. I’ll gladly fuck you in the middle of my office with an audience if it meant that everyone knows you’re mine and I’m yours, you wan’ that?”
He carefully placed you down on his lap, and lifted your skirt, to put his hands down your skirt. “Spread your legs baby.” He helps you spread your legs wider with his big hands. His fingers ran down your pussy to dip into your soaking hole. Oh and did i mention he already took your panties of?? You let out a moan and touched his wrist as he took his wet fingers and circled your clit with them.
“Ohhh yess moan for me baby. Moan for me. That’s a mama mmhh.” he cooed into your open mouth. Your breath fanning his face as he started to finger you harder and faster.
“Fuck, look at thattt, you’re so fucking wet mama. Hear your delicious juices already squirting around my fingers” His fingers curled up to hit your g spot and you were convinced that your half of your skirt were completely soaked at this point. “That feels good Mmh?” He grabs his clean hand to make you look at him. You can also feel that he’s hard.
Then, He slides his second finger inside you, slow and deliberate, curling it to find that spot again, Making deeeeep eye contact with you and that makes your vision white out, and you moan, long and loud, unable to help yourself. He tried and adds a third finger… yes girl, a third one.
stretching you, filling you, and he starts to pump them in and out, his wrist twisting, his knuckles dragging against your walls in a way that makes you see stars. “A-ah! ff-fuckk, michael! Yes!”
You came hard on his fingers with a loud, shuddering scream. “Michael—! Fuck, I’m cumming—!” Your entire body convulsed hard, thighs clamping around his fingers, shaking your head and stopping his hand, powerful waves of pleasure crashed through you. “Fuckk.. atta girl, mmhh so, so good.”
Your pussy clenched and fluttered around his fingers gushing wetly on his lap and fingers while he continued to rub your clit, to see a small reaction. “Mean, huh? aww look at you mama.”
through every pulse of your orgasm. You thrashed on the chaise, moaning shamelessly, eyes squeezed shut as the intense release left you trembling and breathless. His other hand stayed firmly on your hand that’s stopping him.
you fix yourself on him and your skirt then turning towards him very shy… his eyes meet yours. “you did so good mama. So good.” he says, squeezing your legs softly. you two smile at each other and he hugs you right. “You really embarrassed me, Michael.” You said shyly. (◞‸ ◟)💧 He kisses your forehead. “Don’t be embarrassed’ mama, you did so well.”
mil talks ૮ • ﻌ - ა. First time writing smut.. heh nervous >.< its lwk ahh.. so I’ll probably delete it.
The burgundy Mercedes crawled down the busy streets of Los Angeles, the traffic particularly bad at this time of day. Michael was on the way to another interview, marking this as the tenth interview this week alone. His head tipped back against the leather seats as he watched people pass by the heavily tinted car window, unaware that the biggest global pop star was watching them as they went about their day.
The cars thankfully began to move, allowing his car to finally round the corner towards the studio. A large brick building with large windows scattered around the top floors, an old, paint chipped gate opening up as the security gave his name.
As the car pulled to a stop, Bill, in the drivers seat turned around to face Michael briefly,
"You ready, Mike?"
Nodding faintly with a heavy sigh, the security crossed to his side of the car, pulling the door open and guiding him quickly into the building in order to avoid the screaming from outsiders and most importantly, to avoid the nosy tabloids.
Michael stepped out of the elevator, a bodyguard on both sides of him. He looked around, quickly realising that this wasn't the usual interview set up. No bright white studio lights or white backdrop, just the warm sunlight streaming through the floor to ceiling windows onto two green armchairs, a dark oak coffee table in the middle, creating a cozy ambience.
"Mr Michael Jackson! How lovely to meet you", an older man walked steadily towards him, a large friendly smile on his face.
He held his hand out to shake Michael's. He stared briefly in surprise before sliding his hand into the embrace, a firm shake before the older gentleman patted the top of his hand.
"It's lovely to meet you too, Mr..." he trailed off, realising he never got his name.
"Ah, how silly of me! I'm Bobby Stuart, manager of Miss Y/N. She asked me to pass on her apologies as she has been held back by a job that was supposed to be done much earlier than it was... but anyway! shes on her way now, not to fret!" he gushed quickly, before releasing his hand from his grip.
"It's okay, Mr Stuart. Erm, would you like me to go and sit down, ready for the interview?" Michael giggled nervously, his hands rubbing together with nerves.
He wasn't going to admit it, but he was actually in a way relieved that she was running late. This meant that he had more time to mentally prepare for the draining questions they would ask. Maybe they'd ask about his private life, or if he's dating anyone, or if the absurd and sickening things they say in the tabloids are true.
As he sat on the velvet chair, the sunlight warmed his hands and his legs under his black trousers. Michael watched his manager, Frank DiLeo, run around the studio, quickly going over the contract and any concerns he had about the interview. The light chime of the elevator rang through the floor, followed by the rhythmic sound of high heels clicking on the floor.
"Sorry I'm late! Gosh, the traffic usually isn't too busy at this time." you said exasperated.
The black Chanel bag you were carrying dropped on the table, the clank of the chain hitting the wood catching peoples attention through their chatter, before turning and walking towards your manager.
"Hi Mr Stuart, sorry for my tardiness." you whispered sheepishly, taking your notes from him before turning to Frank.
"It's... Mr DiLeo, isn't it" you said before sticking your perfectly manicured hand out for a handshake.
"It is, lovely to meet you", he said with a growing smirk, before lifting your hand to his lips, placing a big smooch on your knuckles.
A look of surprise crossed your face before you smiled slightly, turning on your heel towards Michael whilst wiping the back of your hand on your black pinstripe suit pants. A large smile growing along your face as you made eye contact with him, nearing closer.
"Hi Mr Jackson, I'm Y/N, the person interviewing you today, obviously" you giggled.
"H-Hi", heat beginning to crawl up his neck, "It's nice to meet you".
He ignored the hand you had stuck out towards him, standing up and wrapping you in a quick embrace, not only shocking you but also shocking himself at his sudden forwardness.
You parted from him, quickly moving backwards, sitting yourself onto the chair. Fixing your hair and grabbing the lipgloss the stylist had passed to you, reapplying the shimmer onto your lips.
"Would you like anything, Michael? Like water, tea, coffee, juice?"
His thoughts stopped, his name from your mouth, wow. He'd decided that you were the best person at saying his name.
"Erm, do you have any orange juice? If not, water is fine! Really I'm not fussy" he rubbed the back of his neck before moving his hand to the front of his face, parting the dark curls to the side of his face more.
A glass of orange juice was placed on the dark oak table in front of him by an assistant, all of the staff began to move quickly to their places. A man with a headset picking up the large boom microphone to hold above their heads, and the man behind the large camera tilted it to get both of them in the shot.
"Before we start filming, I just want to remind you that if theres anything you don't want to include, we can always cut it out, just let me know, okay?" You whispered with a small smile, as he nodded with a grateful look.
"Quiet on set! Five, four, three, two, one, and rolling!"
The questions began.
"So, Michael, obviously you have just released your Bad album, congratulations by the way," you said.
"Thank you" he giggled out.
"When people listen to Bad, they often hear a different kind of energy from your earlier work. What was shifting for you internally while you were making it?" you asked, seeming genuinely curious in his answer, as you clicked your pen to write quick notes of his answers.
His eyebrows shot up in shock for a quick second. This wasn't the question he was expecting. No latest rumour, no private life. Just pure and innocent curiosity about his music. He quickly cleared his throat.
"Music is always a reflection of whats happening within. With Bad, I think I was discovering a different kind of confidence within myself and my music... a different kind of voice. It wasn't about leaving anything behind. It was more about stepping into something new and breaking barriers that had never been tested" he answered truthfully.
It felt nice to be asked about his music and his reasoning behind certain aspects of his discography. Your eyes lit up at his response, your pen freezing on the paper.
"What a beautiful answer, Michael" you said in absolute awe. Michael stared wide eyed at you, hidden behind his dark aviators but still slightly visible, his teeth beginning to show in a shy grin.
"Okay, next question" you began.
"When you think about everything you've created so far... what do you hope people feel when they listen to your music?" you questioned softly, watching him shift slightly in his seat.
He paused for a moment, as if choosing the right words to express his feelings.
"I hope they feel understood" he said softly. "I hope it makes them feel something honest... something real. Even if it's just for a moment.
That's all I want from it. For someone, somewhere, to feel less alone when they hear it. To feel as though they can get up and dance to lift their moods" he almost teared up but pulled himself together just as quickly.
In the studio, people turned towards each other, sharing looks of disbelief. Had Michael ever sounded this connected with an interviewer and their questions?
"Wonderful. I'm sure your fans feel exactly the way you describe it, as I'm sure you know, they absolutely adore you and every piece of music you create and release", your pink, glittery lips pulling into a soft, melancholic smile as you reassured Michael of his feelings.
And so the questions continued on just like that. With meaningful and deep answers returned to curious questions.
"Thats a wrap, everybody!" you gleefully exclaimed.
A loud round of applause echoed throughout the room, the sunlight turned to a light copper shade as the daylight passed into a beautiful painting of pink and orange.
"Thank you so much for having me everybody, and Miss Y/N, I really appreciated your questions. Thank you" he leaned closer in an intimate moment of pure thankfulness.
"It was absolutely my pleasure, Michael. I hope you enjoyed your experience here today" you smiled and bowed your head down in shyness.
Michael stood up, wiping his sweaty palms on his trousers, before embracing you quickly. Your own arms sliding comfortably around his waist and interlocking around his slender frame.
He took a step back, looking down at you. "Goodbye, I hope you interview me again" he giggled before walking past her.
He said goodbye to all of the crew he walked past on his way to the elevator before stepping in alongside Bill, and his manager Frank.
"You know Bill, I really like her" he admitted once the elevator doors slid shut.
warninnggssss omg stepdad!joel smut - this is not everyones cup of tea so pls pls be warned also as always 18+ for smut, otherwise to the of age freaks pls enjoyy hehhehe
TW: stepdad!Joel | peepaw-coded filth | age gap (legal but still unwell) | power imbalance | gaslighting (loving) |manipulation (oop) | masturbation | daddy kink | praise kink
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You sat at the end of the table, hands resting quietly in your lap as the hum of conversation floated between the clatter of cutlery and the occasional laugh from your two college friends, visiting for the week under the impression that this was just a harmless little getaway—some sun, some sleep, a few homemade meals in the country.
The kitchen smelled like rosemary and roasted meat, the air thick with steam and late evening light spilling in golden across the counter tiles. Your mother sat beside you, bright-eyed and flushed from wine, humming softly to herself as she passed the gravy boat across the table, her hand brushing against Joel’s wrist like it was second nature.
Joel.
Your stepfather.
Your very recent stepfather.
The same man who first walked into your life with a busted toolbelt, a sharp drawl, and a set of rough, dust-smeared hands that knew how to fix things. Walls. Leaks. Cabinets. Hearts, maybe. He was supposed to just reconstruct the kitchen—then, somehow, the bathroom, the laundry pipes, the broken fence in the backyard. And then, before you even realized it was happening, he was reconstructing his whole damn life around your mother.
Married four months ago. Living in your house. Sitting now at the head of the table, sleeves rolled to the elbow, carving meat with quiet precision, those thick, veiny hands guiding the knife like it was sacred ritual.
He didn’t speak much during dinner. He never did—just nodded now and then, a low rumble in his throat when someone addressed him directly.
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He had that heavy, slow way about him—shoulders broad, voice gravelly, expression unreadable unless he was looking at you. Then it shifted. Just a little. Just enough. Like his eyes softened, or his mouth twitched into something barely shy of a smile. But only for a second. Only for you.
He wasn’t your father. As many times as your mother tried to make it so—“Can you ask your daddy what time he’ll be home?” or “Your daddy said he’d pick up more of that good brisket from town”—you never said the word. Couldn’t. Wouldn’t.
Not when your thoughts about him weren’t the kind daughters were supposed to have.
Not when you couldn’t stop noticing the way his shirt clung to his back when he mowed the lawn. Or how his voice sounded first thing in the morning, gravel and heat, rasping low as he stood in the doorway with a steaming mug of coffee and tired eyes.
Not when you still dreamed about the way his hand lingered on your lower back a little too long the night of the wedding, guiding you through the crowd with a touch that didn’t feel familial.
Not when the man who’d been in your life less than a year looked at you sometimes like he’d undo every rule in the world just to have one moment of honesty with you.
And now here he was, sitting across the table, carving roast beef with those strong, calloused hands, the flicker of candlelight catching in his beard and glinting off the silver band on his ring finger that your mother slipped on with shaky hands one courthouse morning.
You swallowed hard, tearing your eyes away, trying to focus on your friends, on the mashed potatoes, on anything but the way Joel kept looking at you when your mother wasn’t watching.
Anything but the fact that he knew you weren’t calling him daddy for a reason.
𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅
The living room was dimly lit, the last sliver of pink sunset bleeding through the windows, casting golden streaks across the hardwood floor and the frayed edges of the old throw rug your mother refused to replace. You sat curled up in the corner of the couch, remote in hand, aimlessly scrolling through Netflix with half-lidded eyes, the sound of your friends' soft laughter filling the space around you like warm static.
Your mom had disappeared upstairs just after dessert, fingers laced in Joel’s, her voice pitched high and giddy as she declared, “We’ll leave you girls to your wine and gossip—don’t wait up!” And just like that, they were gone, the creak of the stairs and the hush of a door closing upstairs the only trace of them.
You tried not to think about it. About him. About the way Joel had glanced at you as he stood, one hand braced on the back of her chair, the other resting at his side like he didn’t know what to do with it, his eyes lingering on you for just a moment too long.
“God, what even is there to watch anymore,” you muttered absently, scrolling past title after title, your voice heavy with the kind of lazy boredom that comes after a full meal and a long day. Beside you, Ava stretched out with a little groan, her feet nudging under the blanket as she reached for her glass of wine, while Camila leaned in closer, eyes dancing with a mischievous glint that made your stomach twist even before she opened her mouth.
And then, softly—too softly—like a secret whispered between childhood friends and forbidden crushes, Camila nudged your arm and murmured, “Okay, seriously though… your stepdad is hot.”
The words hit you like a slap. Immediate. Merciless. Your whole body tensed, your spine straightening as if on instinct, fingers clenching tighter around the remote as you turned toward her, eyes wide, heartbeat stuttering.
“What the hell?” you snapped, louder than you meant to, the heat rising to your cheeks so fast it felt like fire, like shame, like panic. “Camila—what the actual—”
But she was already laughing, head thrown back, wine sloshing dangerously close to the rim of her glass as she looked at Ava, who only grinned and shrugged, clearly amused by your reaction. “Relax,” Camila said through her giggles, waving a hand like she could brush it all away. “I’m just saying. The flannel? The beard? He’s got that, like, hot handyman-slash-mountain-man energy. You know I have a type.”
You blinked at her, words stuck in your throat, your brain short-circuiting beneath the weight of something you didn’t want to name—something clawing up your ribs like guilt. You wanted to tell her she was out of line. That it was gross. That Joel was married to your mother, for God’s sake. But instead, all you could manage was a choked-out, “He’s—he’s not—he’s—just—stop.”
And it was Ava’s turn to raise a brow, her smile a little too knowing. “You’re blushing,” she teased, her voice sing-song and cruel in the way only best friends could be. “Oh my God, she’s totally blushing.”
“I am not,” you snapped again, but your voice was unsteady, your face burning, your entire body suddenly too hot for the blanket draped over your lap. You shoved it off, stood up too fast, nearly tripping over the coffee table as you made your way toward the kitchen, trying to pretend like you weren’t unravelling, like your skin wasn’t tingling in places it shouldn’t be.
Because they didn’t know.
They didn’t know the way Joel looked at you sometimes when your mother wasn’t watching.
They didn’t know how his voice dropped when he said your name.
They didn’t know how his hand had brushed your waist this morning when he reached past you for the sugar and you felt it for hours.
They didn’t know.
And you were terrified they might find out.
𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅
Camila and Ava had long since fallen asleep in the downstairs guest room, their quiet breaths threading through the stillness of the house, the kind of deep, wine-soft sleep that only came with familiarity and full stomachs and the comfort of being a guest rather than the daughter. Upstairs, you lay in your childhood bedroom, the sheets cool against your skin, your fingers twisting absently in the hem of your tank top as you stared at the ceiling—unmoving, unblinking, like maybe if you kept your gaze steady enough, long enough, it might finally offer you answers to questions you didn’t know how to ask out loud.
It wasn’t that late yet—just brushing past midnight, the witching hour when everything felt thinner, when walls couldn’t hold in secrets and silence started to echo. You wondered if your mother and Joel were asleep already, or if they were still awake in the room down the hall, the one that used to be hers alone before he arrived with his heavy boots and toolbox and made himself at home. A small, traitorous part of you imagined them lying in bed together, her curled against his chest, his arm draped protectively around her waist as he whispered something low and fond into her hair.
You cringed at the image.
Not because it was gross. Not because you didn’t want your mother to be happy.
But because the weight that coiled inside your stomach at the thought of her in his arms wasn’t disgust—it was jealousy. Quiet, bitter, shame-soaked jealousy that tasted like guilt and felt like sin.
You turned onto your side, fingers pressing into the mattress like you could ground yourself with touch, like maybe if you pressed hard enough you’d stop the thoughts from blooming. But they kept coming, gentle and relentless, winding themselves around you like ivy. You wondered if either of them had noticed the way you always looked away when they kissed in front of you, or the way you flinched ever so slightly when their hands found each other in passing, fingers laced like it meant nothing, like it was normal.
Maybe they thought you were still adjusting. Maybe your mother thought it was some kind of unresolved grief for your father, that you couldn’t accept the idea of her moving on so quickly, tying herself to someone new. Maybe Joel thought it was awkwardness, or disapproval, or some adolescent refusal to see him as a part of the family.
But the truth was far more dangerous. Far more complicated.
Because you weren’t mourning the past.
You weren’t angry about her happiness.
You were mourning something else entirely—something unspoken and selfish and terrifying.
You were mourning every moment he touched her and not you.
Every laugh he gave her and not you.
Every soft glance, every private kiss, every piece of him that she got to keep while you sat in the corner pretending you didn’t notice, pretending you didn’t care.
Your thoughts—feverish and tangled and too loud in your head—were suddenly interrupted by a soft knock against the wooden door, three gentle taps that pulled you back to earth so abruptly you nearly sat upright. You thought, for a second, maybe one of the girls had left something behind—toothpaste on the bathroom counter or a charger cord tucked beneath the sheets—so you called out without thinking, your voice barely carrying across the room.
“Come in.”
The door creaked open with a slow, careful push, and instead of Camila or Ava’s familiar silhouette, it was him—Joel. His broad frame filled the doorway, shadowed in the dim hallway light, shoulders hunched ever so slightly like he hadn’t meant to startle you, one hand braced against the doorframe like he was still deciding whether to step fully inside.
You reached instinctively for your side lamp, fingers fumbling with the switch until warm yellow light bathed the room, casting everything in a soft, golden hush. You blinked up at him, eyes adjusting, breath catching at the sight of him standing there like some kind of fever dream.
“Joel?” you asked, your voice coming out quieter than you intended, breathless not from surprise but from the sheer weight of his presence, the way he looked in that moment—undone, unguarded, real in a way that made your skin prickle.
“Hey, darlin’,” he said, that low, southern drawl curling around the words like smoke, as he stepped inside and closed the door behind him with a gentle click that sounded far too loud in the silence of the house.
He looked—God, he looked like trouble.
Hair mussed from sleep, silver at the temples and curling slightly where it met the nape of his neck, beard soft and full, still flecked with that salt-and-pepper scruff that made him look older than he was but somehow stronger for it. He wore a plain, threadbare t-shirt, stretched across his chest in a way that made your stomach tighten, sleeves rolled just enough to show the veins in his forearms, the kind that only ever came from years of labor, of building things with his hands. His grey sweatpants hung low on his hips, worn soft with age, and barefoot—he looked every bit the rugged, rough-edged man who fixed your mom’s house and accidentally broke something inside of you.
It wasn’t technically unusual for Joel to be in your room—sometimes he’d swing by to drop off something you left in the kitchen, or fix the ceiling fan that rattled in summer, or bring you tea when you were sick and shivering in bed, too weak to do anything but mumble thanks. He’d stand by the door usually, or maybe lean against the wall, say something gruff but kind before disappearing again.
But not like this.
Not late at night.
Not when the rest of the house was asleep.
Not when you were lying in bed in nothing but a thin camisole and panties, heart stuttering like it didn’t know what to do with itself.
You shifted again, this time a little more nervously, the sheet clutched tighter around your lap even though it did nothing to hide the way your body responded to his presence—your skin flushed and warm, your breath shallow, nipples still visibly peaked beneath the whisper-thin fabric of your top. You saw it then, the way Joel’s gaze flickered, just for a second, dragging across your chest before meeting your eyes again, and something about the way he didn’t look away fast enough made your stomach twist into knots. He wasn’t trying to pretend. He wasn’t playing dumb.
He came to sit on the edge of your bed, the mattress dipping under his weight, the motion tilting you slightly toward him. He braced one hand beside him, the other resting loosely on his knee. “Were you asleep?” he asked, voice low, his drawl even rougher at this hour, as if it had crawled up from his chest and hadn’t quite settled in his throat yet.
You shook your head slowly, trying not to look too guilty, too obvious. “No,” you said quietly. “I… couldn’t sleep.”
Joel nodded, like he already knew, like maybe that’s why he was really here, not because he happened to be passing by. “Your friends were nice,” he said after a pause, the corner of his mouth twitching into something that could’ve been amusement—or warning. “That Camila though… she’s trouble.”
You let out a small, breathy laugh, the sound a little shaky as you tried to exhale the nerves tightening inside your chest. “Yeah,” you said, nodding. “She is.”
Joel looked at you for a long moment, the silence stretching thin, and then asked, voice low and even, “You have fun?”
You answered too quickly. “Yeah.”
He didn’t miss it. His brow furrowed, not deeply, just enough to signal that he’d caught something he didn’t like, that he could hear the wrongness in your tone the way he could spot a crooked nail from across a room. “What’s wrong?” he asked, that same hand still braced on the bed beside you, his fingers so close to your thigh you could feel the heat of him even through the sheet.
“Nothing,” you said, shaking your head, eyes darting away before you could stop them. “It’s nothing, Joel.”
He tilted his head, slow, deliberate, voice soft but firm like he was coaxing the truth out of you the same way he might coax a wild animal from the woods. “C’mon, sweetheart. You know you’re not a great liar.”
Your throat went tight. You pressed your lips together, tried to hold it in, tried to act normal, tried to act like your skin wasn’t tingling in every place he was near.
“It’s stupid,” you murmured. “Just… one of them said something. Kinda weird.”
Joel straightened a little, his eyes narrowing with something darker, a flicker of protectiveness tightening his jaw. “Weird?” he repeated, his voice sharper now. “They say somethin’ mean to you?”
“No—no, nothin’ like that,” you rushed to say, shaking your head, heart beating hard enough that you were sure he could hear it in the quiet room. “It wasn’t mean. Just…”
He waited. He didn’t speak right away, just tilted his head slightly, the soft creak of the mattress the only sound between you as he waited for you to gather the courage to speak.
“They said something,” you murmured finally, voice barely above a whisper, your eyes trained on your fingers where they twisted nervously in your lap, knuckles white from the tension you refused to let rise to the surface. “About you.”
Joel was quiet for a beat, then let out a low, careful hum. “Oh,” he said, not shocked, not offended, just… waiting. Another pause. “Okay.”
You looked up at him then, meeting his gaze for the first time since the words had started tumbling from your mouth, and it felt like standing too close to the sun—too warm, too intense, too dangerous. His eyes were calm, steady, and yet you felt like they were peeling layers off you without even trying.
“You can tell me,” he coaxed, his voice the softest kind of gruff, the kind that scratched gently at your throat and made you ache in places you didn’t have names for. “Ain’t gonna get upset, sweetheart. Promise.”
You swallowed hard, your heart thudding louder now, the heat creeping up your throat in a slow, mortifying wave as you looked down again. “They just…” you huffed, frustrated with your own inability to say something so simple, so ridiculous, even though it had been clawing at your thoughts all night.
“They said you were…” you trailed off, then forced yourself to look up, cheeks burning as you finally let the words escape. “They said you were ‘hot,’” you mumbled, using your fingers to make sarcastic little quotation marks in the air, the motion clumsy and half-hearted, your voice wrapped in embarrassment and something else—something you couldn’t disguise.
Joel blinked slowly, like he was processing it carefully.
He just sat there, eyes fixed on you, expression unreadable but far from indifferent, and in the quiet that followed, something in the air shifted. It was subtle—barely a breath—but it was there. Heavy. Humming. Like the moment before a summer storm breaks.
And then, finally, in that low, quiet drawl that had already undone you more times than you cared to admit, Joel tilted his head and said, “That right?”
You gave the smallest nod, unable to find your voice, your cheeks hot under the weight of his gaze.
He chuckled, and it was somehow worse than silence—warm and familiar and achingly beautiful, the kind of laugh that wrapped around you like smoke, like comfort, like danger disguised as something gentle. “That’s what’s got you all twisted up, honey?” he asked, his voice teasing now, smooth as whiskey and just as sharp. “That why you’re up past midnight, lookin’ like you got somethin’ sittin’ heavy on your chest?”
“I’m not upset,” you said quickly, the words spilling out too fast, too defensive. “It’s just—” you shrugged, eyes falling to your lap again, “weird.”
Joel raised an eyebrow, the mattress shifting slightly beneath his weight as he leaned in just enough to make you feel it—his presence, his size, the scent of him that smelled like cedar and something warmer, deeper, something male. “Ain’t that weird,” he said, like it was fact. Like you were the one being unreasonable.
You blinked at him, heart stumbling over itself. “What?”
He shrugged, one corner of his mouth tugging into a half-smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “What—you think I’m hideous or somethin’, darlin’?” he asked, voice laced with mock offense, but there was something beneath it, something hot and coiled and barely leashed.
“No,” you said quickly, instinctively, your body tensing. “No, but—”
Joel cut you off with a slow, quiet laugh, the kind that sent goosebumps across your arms. “D’you agree with your friend?” he asked, his voice quieter now, lower, thicker, like molasses sliding slow over bare skin. “Simple question, angel.”
You swallowed hard, every part of your body suddenly too aware of itself—your hands, your legs beneath the sheet, the way your breath caught in your throat. “I—” you stammered. “You’re my—my stepdad. It’s weird.”
Joel’s expression didn’t shift. He didn’t laugh. He didn’t flinch. He just watched you, calm and steady, as if your panic was a ripple in a pond he’d already seen coming.
“Ain’t weird,” he said again, this time definitively, like he was putting the matter to rest, the final nail in a coffin you didn’t even realize you’d built together. “You’re my stepdaughter, sure,” he said, voice slow, smooth, dragging each word like he wanted you to feel them deep in your chest, “but that don’t change the fact that you’re a goddamn stunnin’ girl.”
Your breath hitched.
His eyes flicked down for a heartbeat—your lips, your collarbone, the outline of your thighs beneath the sheet—before meeting yours again. “Ain’t nothin’ wrong with seein’ beauty, even if it’s standin’ right in front of me in my own house. Ain’t nothin’ wrong with noticin’.”
His hand flexed again against the mattress beside you, the muscles in his forearm shifting subtly, a quiet tension that mirrored the storm building between your ribs.
“Ain’t nothin’ wrong with wantin’, either,” he said again, and this time it wasn’t casual or dismissive—it was low, like a confession, like he meant every word, like he wasn’t just talking about himself.
Your breath hitched, your chest rising too fast, falling too slow, and before you could control it, your thighs—hot and aching beneath the thin layer of sheets—pressed tighter together in a desperate attempt to calm the pulsing ache that had bloomed low in your stomach. But it was no use. Your body betrayed you before your mouth could even try to lie.
And Joel saw it.
Of course he saw it. He always did.
He let his gaze drop, just for a moment—just long enough to trace the path of your clenched jaw, your flushed chest, the twitch of the blanket where your legs shifted beneath it—before dragging his eyes back up to yours with a slowness that made your skin feel like it might catch fire under the weight of it.
“It’s wrong,” you said, barely more than a breath, and even you could hear how unconvincing it sounded. Your voice faltered halfway through the sentence, like your mouth was trying to say something your heart didn’t believe.
Joel’s lips parted in a soft, nearly pitying sound, almost like a laugh—but gentler, rougher, like he was mourning the guilt you were dragging behind you like a chain. “That why you’re squirming, sweetheart?” he asked, voice like gravel and honey, rich and wrecked and too kind for the words it carried. “Sittin’ there all flustered, lookin’ at me like I done somethin’ to you?”
You didn’t answer. You couldn’t. The air felt thick enough to drown in.
Joel leaned in just a little, his voice dipping lower, like the walls had ears and he didn’t want anyone else to hear what he was about to say.
“Ain’t nothin’ wrong with me takin’ care of you,” he murmured, slow and steady like it was the most natural thing in the world. “Makin’ you feel good. Keepin’ you safe. It's my job, ain’t it?”
You swallowed hard, and he saw that too.
He kept going, not touching you, not even leaning closer—just letting his voice wrap around you like his hands would, if you asked.
“These boys your age… they don’t know how to treat you,” he said, his mouth curving into something soft, something almost sad. “Don’t know how to be patient. Don’t know how to listen.”
His hand shifted slightly on the mattress, just enough to make the sheets pull tight where his thigh pressed close to yours.
“They’ll rush you,” he said, voice barely a whisper now. “Use you up. Leave you empty.”
He let the words hang, heavy and devastating.
“I’d never do that to you, baby.”
You let out a soft sound—breathless, choked, almost involuntary—the kind of desperate little noise you might’ve tried to bury into a pillow if you were alone, but now it just slipped out, raw and real and open, hanging there in the charged air between you.
Joel’s eyes darkened instantly, and his voice followed like a velvet trap. “Aw, angel,” he cooed, low and dripping with something syrup-thick and sinful, “you’re aching, ain’t ya?”
You nodded, barely, shame crawling up your spine, your thighs clenching again under the sheets like you could hide the truth from a man who already saw it, already knew. And yet… you nodded. You nodded because it was true. Because every cell in your body felt hot and heavy and needy in a way you couldn’t soothe on your own anymore.
“Ain’t nothin’ to be embarrassed about, sweetpea,” he murmured, shaking his head slow like you’d just said something silly, something naive. “It’s normal,” he added gently, like this was a lesson. Like he was here to teach. “You’re a girl with needs, and I’m a man who understands ‘em. Ain’t nothin’ dirty about that.”
His hand came up, calloused fingers brushing your cheek with a kind of reverence that made you dizzy, his thumb stroking softly under your eye like he could smooth the guilt out of you if he just touched you gently enough. “Sweet girl,” he whispered, so low it made your chest ache, “always so good for me.”
You felt warm all over, like something inside you had melted and was slowly seeping into every inch of your body, like honey left in the sun.
Joel leaned back just slightly, humming low in his throat, eyes never leaving yours, like he was thinking—weighing something. And then, in a tone so casual, so infuriatingly calm it made your stomach twist, he said, “How ‘bout I help you out, huh?”
You blinked, confused, dazed, the words hitting you like warm water to the face. “Help me?” you asked, voice small and hesitant, caught between fear and want, your hands twisting in the sheets like they might anchor you to the moment.
He nodded slowly, his hand sliding from your cheek to rest on your knee—over the sheet, but the heat of it still bled through like a brand. “I want you to show me, baby,” he said, his voice still soft, still that same gentle, soothing register, like he wasn’t asking you to cross a line you could never come back from. “Show me how you do it when you’re all alone.”
Your breath caught. Your face burned. The blush that bloomed across your cheeks felt like it went all the way down to your chest, to your core, to every private place you’d ever touched in the dark.
“I—Joel,” you stammered, but your voice crumbled before it could form a protest.
He tilted his head, squeezing your knee through the sheet, patient and unbothered. “Ain’t nothin’ to be shy about, angel,” he said, his voice dipping lower, rougher. “You think I don’t know you been lyin’ here at night touchin’ that sweet little pussy all quiet-like, tryin’ not to make a sound?” He let out a low chuckle, but there was no cruelty in it—just warmth, affection, like you’d done something precious.
“Bet you rub that clit nice and slow, tryin’ to make it last, huh?” he murmured, eyes locked on your face, watching every tiny reaction like he was reading scripture. “Bet you squeeze your thighs together after, all messy ‘n wet, pretendin’ you’re not thinkin’ ‘bout me.”
You buried your face in your hands, humiliated and flushed, but Joel’s voice pulled you right back out, soft but firm. “C’mon now. Be a good girl and show me.”
You hid your face in your hands, hot with shame, your entire body throbbing with heat, soaked in places you didn’t dare acknowledge, and still trembling with that same awful, beautiful ache—the one that told you this was wrong, and yet made it impossible to pull away.
You were mortified, confused, soaked to your thighs and full of a desperate longing that made your skin feel too tight, your thoughts tangled and wet and unbearable.
Joel chuckled softly, the sound low and warm, curling in your stomach like smoke. “You trust me, don’t you?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper, gentle and coaxing and so sure of the answer he didn’t need to hear it.
But you nodded anyway, fingers twitching as you lowered your hands just enough to meet his gaze, tears brimming in your eyes though you didn’t even know what you were crying for.
“Good girl,” he murmured, and that phrase—good girl—broke something loose inside of you, made your breath catch and your throat tighten like it meant something more than just praise. Like it meant ownership. Like it meant love.
Then, in a voice that was suddenly lower, rougher, more dangerous and yet still laced with the same softness that made your stomach flip, he said, “Now go on, baby. Show your daddy how you take care of that pretty little pussy when you’re all alone, thinkin’ ‘bout me.”
You whimpered, the sound barely making it past your lips, and shook your head a little, helpless. “I—I don’t know what to do,” you whispered, your voice cracking like it was made of glass.
Joel gave a quiet, affectionate sigh, like you’d just said the sweetest thing he’d ever heard. “That’s alright, sugar,” he said, sliding a heavy hand beneath the sheet and letting it rest there for just a moment before slowly, deliberately, peeling it back.
You froze as the cool air met your bare skin, the way his eyes didn’t look away, didn’t hesitate, just drank you in like this was the most natural thing in the world, like he wasn’t your stepfather and this wasn’t your childhood bed, like this was inevitable.
“Let’s take this off then,” he said, more to himself than to you, as he folded the sheet down past your hips, your thighs, your trembling legs, until you lay there exposed, vulnerable, soaked through your panties with shame and arousal.
Joel’s eyes swept over your bare thighs, lingering on the soaked fabric clinging to the soft curve of your cunt, the way it shimmered faintly in the low lamp light like it was glowing—wet, messy, desperate. You hadn’t even touched yourself yet, hadn’t done more than breathe, and still, your body had betrayed you, eager and hungry and utterly undone just from the sound of his voice, the scrape of his knuckles, the weight of his gaze.
And Joel saw it.
Of course he did.
He let out a soft, almost pitying coo as he shook his head, tongue pressing briefly to the inside of his cheek like he was trying to hold back a sigh. “Honey,” he murmured, slow and low, that molasses drawl laced with disappointment more than anything else. “You’re drippin’, baby.”
The words weren’t cruel, but they still cut through you like a knife, made your skin prickle and your breath catch, not because he was mocking you—but because it was the truth. Because it was said like a reproach, like he was gently scolding you for keeping this from him. Like he was hurt.
“Jesus,” he whispered, shaking his head again, the softest furrow in his brow. “You waitin’ this long to ask for help, baby? Layin’ up here, soaked and achin’, all by yourself?” His voice dropped even lower, eyes still fixed on the wet patch that was growing darker by the second. “That ain’t good for you, sweetpea. All that tension. Sittin’ in your belly like poison. You know better than that.”
You whimpered, small and mortified, your eyes stinging with some ugly cocktail of shame and want and that unbearable tenderness only Joel could wring out of you.
“You shoulda come to me,” he said, as soft as a prayer, his hand drifting up to rest against your thigh, close but not touching—not yet. “Coulda knocked on my door, baby. Just a tap. I’d’ve taken care of you real easy. Real sweet.” He let out a quiet sigh, like this hurt him more than it hurt you. “But instead you’re up here, rubbin’ those pretty little thighs together like that’s gonna do the job.”
You whimpered again—quiet and pathetic, a sound barely born before it trembled out of your lips—and Joel made a sound that was halfway between a groan and a sigh, his whole body shifting like it hurt him to hear you like that, like your suffering was something sacred. “My sweet girl,” he rasped, rough with reverence, and as if the words alone weren’t enough to mark you, he leaned in and pressed a kiss to your temple, slow and tender and terrifying in its intimacy.
You froze.
It was almost absurd—after everything, after the confessions, after the filthy words spoken in soft murmurs, after sitting in your soaked underwear before him like an offering—but that kiss, that small, chaste brush of lips to skin, shattered you in a different way. You and Joel had never shared physical affection beyond fleeting, innocent moments—a hand to your back when you were sick, a brush of shoulders in the kitchen, the occasional hand-off of a cup of tea or a charger cord. But this? This was different. This was personal. This was loving.
More intimate than anything else he could have done.
And then, his voice dropped again, low and drawling, thick with heat and authority. “Alright,” he said, his tone like velvet soaked in whiskey. “Take those panties off real slow for me, sugar. I wanna see that sweet pussy beg.”
Your breath caught hard in your throat, your fingers twitching against the sheets, and for a second you didn’t move—couldn’t move—because the words had landed so heavy, like a weight dropped into your chest. But then, with trembling hands and a heart that felt too big for your ribs, you obeyed.
You reached down, fingers hooking into the waistband of your underwear, soaked through and clinging to your skin, and began to ease them down, slow and hesitant, your eyes flickering up to meet his just once, just long enough to see the way his gaze had darkened—hungry, wild, but still soft. Still Joel.
The damp fabric peeled away from you, shame dripping off you in waves as you slid the panties down your thighs, over your knees, until they slipped past your ankles and landed in a silent heap on the floor beside the bed.
You were breathless now—your chest rising and falling in shallow little gasps, your skin flushed from head to toe, your legs trembling beneath you—and you didn’t even know if it was from fear or want or that horrible, beautiful mixture of both.
Joel didn’t say anything at first. He just looked.
Eyes fixed between your legs, steady and unhurried, drinking in the sight of you like it was something holy, something he didn’t quite deserve to see but was going to relish anyway. His gaze was slow, heavy, and unbearably calm—as if he hadn’t just coaxed you into peeling off your soaked panties and baring yourself in the soft hush of your childhood bedroom with the door shut and your mother asleep down the hall.
And then, in that voice—low, rough, coated in syrup and sin—he spoke.
“Spread them legs for me, baby,” he murmured, each word drawn out like he wanted them to linger in the air with you. “Let daddy see all that slick.”
Your cheeks flushed so hot it made your head spin, and for a second, your instinct was to turn away, to close your legs, to hide. But instead—God help you—you smiled, small and shy and aching with embarrassment and need, your body humming with the unbearable thrill of being seen.
Joel smiled too—lazy, pleased, touched with something warmer than it had any right to be. “That’s my good girl,” he said, the praise so soft and familiar it made your chest ache. “Gettin’ comfortable for your daddy, ain’t ya?”
You nodded, almost bashful, your thighs parting just a little wider beneath his gaze, the air cool against your soaked skin as the wet heat between your legs pulsed steady and demanding.
“Alright, sweetheart,” he said, his voice sinking even lower, that dangerous softness thickening into something you could feel in your bones. “Go ahead. Show me how you rub that sweet clit.”
You hesitated only for a moment, heart pounding so loud it was all you could hear, and then—because you couldn’t not obey him, because the way he was looking at you made you feel small and precious and filthy all at once—you did as he said.
Your fingers slid between your thighs, tentative and trembling, and when they brushed over your swollen folds, a broken little gasp left your mouth—because you were soaked, slick, messy in a way that made your face burn with shame, and Joel saw all of it. Your fingertips found your clit, swollen and begging, and you gave it the lightest, slowest circle, your legs twitching as your breath stuttered.
Joel let out a low groan, like the sight pained him, like he was holding himself back from something feral. “That’s it, baby,” he rasped, his eyes fixed to your fingers like he was hypnotized. “Touch her real gentle. Let her know daddy’s watchin’.”
“That feel good?” he asked, voice low and slow, like he already knew the answer but wanted to hear it—wanted it offered up like a gift on your trembling tongue.
You nodded, breath shaky, fingers still working soft circles against your clit the way he told you to, hips twitching just a little with every pass. “Y-Yeah,” you whispered, too dazed to even pretend you had shame left in you.
Joel tilted his head slightly, that familiar crease forming between his brows, not angry—just expectant, like a teacher waiting for the right answer from a student who already knew better. “Yeah what, baby?”
You swallowed, chest fluttering with nerves and something hotter, deeper, heavier. Your voice was barely a whisper when it left you, breath catching halfway through.
“Yes, Daddy.”
The sound he made in response was filthy—a low, deep groan rumbling straight from his chest, so raw it made your thighs twitch and your core clench. You could see it in his face, the way his jaw went tight, how his hand flexed again where it lay on the bed, like he was holding himself back from something that required restraint.
“Good girl,” he murmured, and those two words—so soft, so reverent—landed heavier than anything else, sinking into your skin like praise and ownership all at once. And then, with a tenderness so at odds with the filth between you, he placed one big, warm hand on your thigh—his thumb brushing soothing little arcs into your skin—and leaned in to press a quick, burning kiss to your shoulder, beard scraping against your skin, his breath hot and damp where his lips had just been.
“You’re doin’ so good for me, baby,” he whispered, barely pulling back. “Such a sweet girl—touchin’ herself just like Daddy asked.”
You whimpered, spine curving as your fingers moved faster now, helpless under the weight of his words, his touch, his eyes. You did as he said—not because you had to, not because he forced you, but because the sound of his voice, the heat in his gaze, the approval dripping from every word made you want to be good. Made you want to be his.
“Keep goin’, sugar,” Joel said, his hand tightening just slightly on your thigh. “Let Daddy see you fall apart. Let me see what that sweet little pussy looks like when she comes.”
Your fingers moved faster now, slick and shaky, the soft pressure turning greedy, desperate, your hips rising off the bed in tiny, involuntary pulses as the heat in your belly began to coil tighter, higher. The room was filled with the wet sound of your arousal—loud, obscene, almost embarrassing in how eager you were—and still Joel said nothing for a moment, just watched, eyes dark and full of something you couldn’t name, something between awe and hunger and ownership.
He inhaled deeply through his nose, like he was trying to commit the sound, the scent, the sight of you to memory, and his voice dropped an octave, ragged around the edges.
“Look so fuckin’ sweet spread out like this for me, baby,” he said, almost like it hurt to say, like the words tasted too good in his mouth to come out clean. “My precious girl… puttin’ on the prettiest damn show a man could ask for.”
Your breath hitched at his praise, your thighs twitching, fingers circling your clit faster now, harder, your other hand clutching the sheets like you’d fall through the bed without it.
“You gettin’ close, sweetheart?” Joel asked then, and his voice—low, rough, tender—wrapped around your body like a second skin, like heat itself. “That little pussy about to come just from your fingers, huh? Just from daddy watchin’ real nice?”
You nodded, too frantic to form words, mouth falling open in a soft gasp as your body trembled beneath his gaze, every nerve ending alive and raw.
He leaned in just a little, resting his forearm on his knee like this was casual, like this was just a late-night conversation and not your stepfather watching you masturbate in your childhood bed.
“That’s it,” Joel murmured, voice thick with hunger but still achingly gentle, like he was speaking to something sacred, something tender and breakable. “Good girl—look at that messy lil’ cunt cryin’ for me, fuckin’ weepin’ like she’s been starved her whole goddamn life.”
And that was it.
The coil snapped.
You came undone with a shattered, strangled whimper, hips jerking beneath your own hand as the orgasm ripped through you like heat lightning—fast and sharp and blinding. Your whole body shook, your thighs clenching tight around your wrist as slick spilled out of you in wet pulses, and the only thing tethering you to earth was the sound of Joel groaning, low and ruined, like the sight of you breaking for him had knocked the breath clean out of his lungs.
“Fuckin’ hell, baby…” he rasped, watching your body twitch and flutter through the aftershocks. “That’s the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.”
Before you could even come down from the high—before you could catch your breath or close your legs—Joel shifted forward, leaned in, and pressed the softest kiss to your still-pulsing, overstimulated clit.
You shuddered, your legs trembling violently, your whole body jerking like you’d been shocked, because it was too much—too much—and still, he kissed you there, soft and wet, like it was a mouth made to be worshiped, and he had every right to worship it.
“Can't wait to eat this sweet pussy all fuckin’ day,” he muttered against your folds, so filthy it made your toes curl. “Could live off what she gives me.”
You let out a noise—half a sob, half a gasp—your legs twitching in overstimulation, your chest heaving, eyes wide and glassy with something too big to name.
Then Joel was moving—pulling back, licking his lips like he’d just tasted something divine, and reaching for your face with hands that were still so gentle it made you ache. He cradled your cheek like you were porcelain, and leaned in close, eyes locked to yours.
And then, for the first time, he kissed you.
It was dizzying—soft and sensual, lips slow and reverent, his breath fanning across your cheek as his mouth moved over yours like he’d been waiting a lifetime to do it right. No filth. No commands. Just Joel. Just him.
When he pulled back, his forehead just barely grazing yours, he looked at you like you were the only thing in the whole damn world worth saving—like he’d burn the house down if it meant you’d never feel lonely again. His thumb brushed tenderly across your lower lip, tracing the shape of your mouth like it belonged to him, and his voice dropped into a soft, hushed whisper.
“I’m so proud of you, baby,” he murmured, reverent, wrecked, like you’d just done something brave instead of obscene.
“You… are?” you asked, barely able to get the words out around the haze still curling in your chest, that dazed warmth thick and dizzying in your veins.
“‘Course I am,” he said instantly, the words falling out with such quiet certainty it made your chest tighten, his voice steady and heartbreakingly sincere, like there wasn’t even the possibility of doubt in his mind. His thumb brushed your cheek again, slow and warm, and he looked at you with something so proud and tender it nearly broke you. “You were real brave for me, sugar. So sweet. So good.”
His voice dipped lower, softer now, almost like he was sharing a secret meant for your skin alone.
“Touched yourself like an angel, baby. Like you were made to be watched.” He let out a shaky breath, still a little wrecked himself, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe it. “The way you spread those thighs, all flushed and achin’... shit, sweet girl, you made yourself come so pretty for me. Like you’d been waitin’ your whole life to let someone see.”
And God help you, but you smiled at that, soft and small and shy, your heart thudding unevenly in your chest as you leaned back up to kiss him again—slow, sweet, a little unsure but filled with something quiet and blooming.
He moaned against your lips, low and approving, one hand cradling your jaw as he deepened the kiss for just a moment, like he couldn’t help himself, like the taste of your mouth was something he’d never stop craving.
“Gonna keep makin’ you feel good like you deserve, sweetpea,” he whispered when he finally pulled back, pressing a kiss to your cheek, then the corner of your mouth, then your jaw. “Just gotta get you ready for me first, yeah? Can’t rush somethin’ this special.”
“Okay,” you breathed, and the sound of your own voice surprised you—how soft it was, how trusting.
Joel smiled like he already had forever planned out.
“Good girl,” he said, and your heart stuttered. Then, with a gentleness that made your throat ache, he leaned down and pressed a kiss to your forehead, his hand brushing back your hair like you were something cherished.
“Now get some sleep,” he whispered. “Daddy’s right here.”
And he stayed—just like that—sitting on the edge of your bed, hand still resting lightly on your thigh, as your eyes fluttered closed, your body sore and soaked and safe in the dark.
synopsis: michael thinks he’s not as pretty as the public claims he is, but you think otherwise.
warnings: just lots of fluff, dangerous!era michael
wc: 2.3k
The living room was quiet, washed in the warm, amber glow of the late evening lamps. Outside, the world was bustling, but inside, the space felt entirely detached from reality. The only sounds were the low, rhythmic hum of the television playing a classic movie across the room and the soft, crisp rustle of pages turning.
You were sitting comfortably on the plush couch, legs stretched out, while Michael lay with his head resting securely in your lap. He was completely relaxed, clad in a soft, oversized red corduroy button-down. One of his hands rested gently on your knee, his fingers occasionally tracing absentminded patterns there, while his dark eyes were fixed on the television screen.
Your fingers slid through the soft curls near his forehead, gently massaging his scalp. Every now and then, a soft, contented sigh would escape his lips, his body sinking a little deeper into your touch.
You flipped another heavy, glossy page of the high-fashion magazine you’d been skimming. As your eyes scanned the layout, you stopped. It was a multi-page spread detailing iconic modern style influencers, and right there on the glossy paper was a stunning, full-page photograph of Michael from a recent event. The lighting of the photo captured the sharp, perfect structure of his jawline, the intense depth of his eyes, and the effortless grace of his posture.
You looked down at the real version resting in your lap, then back at the page. A soft, incredibly tender smile broke across your face.
"You're so pretty, baby," you murmured softly, your voice barely louder than a whisper, but completely filled with adoration.
Michael froze. His eyes instantly snapped away from the television screen, tilting his head back to look up at you. His big, expressive eyes blinked once, twice, as the words registered. Almost immediately, a deep, rosy flush crept up his cheeks, reaching all the way to the tips of his ears.
"Stop it," he turned his head quickly, burying his face right into the fabric of your pants to hide his blush, his voice muffled. "Don't say that."
You let out a soft, melodic laugh, the vibration of it beneath his head making him smile against you, even as he tried to hide. You leaned down, trying to peek at his face. "Why not? It’s the truth. Look at this." You tapped the magazine page right above him.
Michael peeked out with one eye, then immediately brought both of his hands up, covering his face entirely with his large, slender fingers. "No, it's not. That’s just... that's just a good camera angle and lots of lightin’, baby. I’m really not."
The modesty was classic Michael, but hearing the genuine dismissiveness in his voice made your heart ache just a little. You closed the magazine, setting it aside on the coffee table, and gently took hold of his wrists. You pulled his hands away from his face, forcing him to look up at you. He didn't fight you, but his gaze drifted to the side, suddenly shy.
"Hey," you said softly, your thumb gently caressing his cheekbone. "Look at me, Mike."
He slowly brought his dark eyes back to yours, looking incredibly vulnerable.
"Why do you do that?" you asked, your voice dropping into a gentle, serious tone. "Why is it so hard for you to believe it when I tell you how beautiful you are?"
Michael was quiet for a long moment. The playful, flustered energy faded, replaced by the quiet gravity of a deep, underlying insecurity that he rarely showed the rest of the world. He swallowed softly, his fingers wrapping around yours where they rested on his chest.
"Because... when I look in the mirror, I don't see what you see," he confessed, his voice incredibly small, almost cracking. "I just see all the things I want to change. I see the imperfections. Growin’ up under the hot lights, havin’ people constantly critique every single inch of my face, my skin, my hair... it stays with you. It makes you feel like you're never quite enough. Like the image people love— it’s not even really me."
The silence stretched between you, heavy and thick, long before he finally spoke again. He didn't let go of your hand, but his grip grew incredibly tight, his fingers trembling just a fraction against yours.
"It’s more than just the mirrors, baby," he whispered, his voice cracking as he looked away from you, staring blindly at the flickering light of the TV. "It’s... the unpredictability of my own body. I look at old pictures of myself from when I was younger, and I don't even recognize the person looking back at me anymore. My skin..."
He swallowed hard, a visible tightness gripping his throat. He reached up with his free hand, his fingertips hovering just above his jawline, tracing the uneven edges where the vitiligo was aggressively changing his complexion.
"Every morning I wake up, and I have to see if there are new spots. New patches. I have to sit in a makeup chair for hours just to make myself look uniform to the world, just so people won't stare or make up horrible stories about me tryin’ to change who I am. I love being Black. I love my heritage. But my own body is betrayin’ me, and the world uses it as a weapon against me. They look at me like I'm a monster, or a freak."
A tear slipped from the corner of his eye, tracking a quiet path down his temple and wetting the fabric of your pants.
"And then there's the pressure of just staying... perfect," he continued, the words tumbling out now like a dam had broken. "The industry, the media, the fans—they freeze you in time. They want the boy from the Jackson 5, or they want the guy from Thriller forever. Every line on my face, every time I look tired, I feel like I'm failing the image. I’m a man, I’m growing up, I’m changing, but I’m terrified that if the magic fades, or if I don't look flawless, everyone will just wake up one day and walk away... even you."
Your heart didn’t just ache for him; it broke. The sheer weight of what he carried—the physical pain of his condition combined with the psychological horror of having his identity questioned by millions—was a burden no single human being was ever built to bear.
You didn't say a word at first. Instead, you slowly leaned down, shifting your weight so you could cradle his face gently between both of your hands. You used your thumbs to gently wipe the tear from his skin, your touch as light as a feather.
"Baby, look at me," you commanded softly, waiting until those deep, liquid-brown eyes reluctantly met yours.
"They don't know you," you said, your voice fierce with an unshakeable conviction. "The people who write those awful things, the people who look at you through a camera lens—they don't see the man who stays up late writing melodies to heal people. They don't see your kindness, your laughter, or the way your heart bleeds for this world. Your skin is just a tapestry of what your body is going through, Mike. It doesn't change the blood in your veins, and it doesn't change the beautiful soul inside of you."
You leaned down, pressing a deep, lingering kiss directly onto one of the lighter patches of skin near his cheekbone, holding your lips there until you felt his body shudder with a release of tension.
"I don't need a flawless image," you whispered against his skin, moving your lips to the other side of his face. "I don't need you frozen in time. I love the man you are right now, in this room, in these quiet moments. Let the world have their theories and their photos. When you are here, with me, you are entirely safe to just be human. You can grow, you can change, you can have bad days—and I promise I’m not goin’ anywhere."
Michael let out a broken, shuddering breath, a sob finally slipping past his lips. He hid his face in your stomach, his long arms winding tightly around your waist as he wept quietly, letting years of hidden isolation wash away in the safety of your lap. You held him through it, rocking him gently, kissing the top of his head and whispering promises of love into his curls until the storm passed, leaving him completely at peace in your arms.
Hearing him lay his heart bare like that made a wave of fierce, protective love wash over you. You didn't let him drift into those dark thoughts for even another second.
The sound of his quiet sobs slowly tapered off into deep, rhythmic breaths against your stomach. Michael didn't pull away immediately; he just lay there, his forehead pressed into the soft fabric of your shirt, grounding himself in your warmth. The heavy, suffocating weight that had filled the room just moments ago began to lift, replaced by a profound, peaceful stillness.
Gently, you slid your hands back down to his shoulders, rubbing soothing circles into the tense muscles until you felt him relax completely.
"Hey," you whispered, your voice a tender, velvety caress in the quiet room. "Bring that beautiful face up here for me."
Michael sniffled slightly, a shy, almost embarrassed look crossing his features as he slowly lifted his head from your lap. His long eyelashes were still damp with tears, and his nose was a faint, endearing shade of pink. He looked so raw, so entirely stripped of the armor, that it made your chest ache with a fierce, consuming affection.
You didn't give him a chance to feel self-conscious. Shifting your weight, you crawled forward slightly so you were hovering directly over him, your long legs framing his torso on the couch.
"You are the most beautiful man I have ever seen, Michael Joseph Jackson," you murmured, your gaze locking onto his with an intensity that made his breath hitch. "And I am going to make sure you remember it."
You started at the very top. Leanly dipping your head, you pressed a soft, lingering kiss right into his hairline, inhaling the familiar, comforting scent of his hair products.
"I love your mind," you whispered against his skin, kissing his temple. "The way you think, the way you create, the way you care about everything so deeply."
You slid your lips down to his brow, pressing a firm kiss right between his eyes, right where the faint line of a stressed frown usually sat. "I love how expressive you are. How I can see your whole heart just by looking at you."
Michael’s eyes closed, a soft, involuntary sigh escaping his lips. A beautiful, genuine smile was already starting to tug at the corners of his mouth, the lingering sadness completely melting away under your touch.
You moved to his eyelids, kissing each one with feather-light precision, praising him with every touch. "I love these beautiful, soulful eyes. The way they look at me like I'm the only person in the world."
Down you went, your lips tracing the elegant slope of his nose, pressing a playful kiss right to the tip, which earned you a tiny, breathless giggle that vibrated against your chest.
"I love your laugh," you smiled, your heart swelling at the sound. You moved to his cheeks, intentionally pressing deep, warm kisses all over the soft patches where his vitiligo was prominent, making sure to coat every single inch of his skin in absolute adoration. "I love your skin. Every beautiful, unique part of it. It’s perfect to me, baby. You are so, so handsome."
Michael’s hands came up, his long, slender fingers gently wrapping around your waist, holding you close as if he were trying to anchor himself to the sheer amount of love you were pouring into him. He was glowing now, the flush on his cheeks no longer from embarrassment, but from pure, unadulterated happiness.
You moved your lips down to his jawline, tracing the sharp, perfect angle of it with your mouth, kissing your way down to the sensitive skin of his neck.
"I love your voice," you murmured against his skin, sending a delicious shiver straight down his spine. "I love the way you say my name. I love how gentle you are."
Finally, you brought your face back up, hovering just a fraction of an inch above his lips. Michael’s dark eyes fluttered open, completely glassy with emotion, looking up at you with a reverence that mirrored your own.
"Most of all," you whispered, brushing your thumb across his lower lip, "I love how big your heart is. You give so much of yourself to the world, Michael. But in this room, you’re just my man. And you are more than enough. You are everything."
Michael couldn't take it anymore. A soft, emotional sound escaped the back of his throat, and he pulled you down by your waist, meeting your lips in a deep, agonizingly sweet kiss. It wasn't rushed or frantic; it was a slow, pouring rain of gratitude and devotion. His lips parted against yours, tasting like warmth and comfort, his fingers tangling into the fabric of your shirt to hold you as close as humanly possible.
When you finally pulled back just enough to breathe, resting your forehead against his, Michael was beaming. The shadows that usually danced in his eyes were entirely gone, replaced by a brilliant, twinkling light.
"You're tryna’ kill me," he whispered, his voice incredibly thick, but his smile so wide it crinkled the corners of his eyes.
"Never," you smiled back, kissing his nose one last time. "You just deserve to be spoiled, Mikey."
He let out another soft laugh, pulling you down so you were lying completely against his chest. He wrapped his strong arms securely around your frame, pulling the soft living room blanket over both of you. As he rested his chin on top of your head, his fingers gently stroking your back, you could feel the steady, peaceful, and confident beat of his heart. For the first time in a long time, he felt completely flawless.
synopsis: michael loves pleasing you so much he has to record it for his future self to enjoy too!
warnings: sexual themes, smut, 18+
Click!
And you froze.
The faintest giggle from Michael’s mouth brought you up for air — disconnecting your swollen lips from his own.
You, as Michael’s long-term girl, knew that he was a troublemaker at times — often pulling silly stunts to get a rise out of you and make you laugh. But, rather, in this sense, make himself laugh.
But this, was definitely a new one.
“Mike, what is that?”
Michael sported a childish grin — the corners of his lips tugging each side as he fought to suppress it.
“A camera.”
“I can see that, honey, but what’s it doing out while we’re kissin’?” Your tone had Michael pulling his bottom lip between his lips.
“Wanted to try somethin’.” He revealed, his voice soft and sweet despite the sensual undertone.
You’d barely been situated in Michael’s lap five minutes, lips moving feverishly against his own, anticipating some intimacy with your man, before the clicking of the Sony Handycam CCD-M8U you bought him for his birthday started a recording.
“Come on, baby, keep goin’.” He whispered — behaving like a producer backstage of a performance, using hushed tones to support you with your next act.
You shook your head in protest — lips parting to tell him to turn that damn thing off. But, it was Michael’s way or no way. He perched up from slightly beneath you, capturing your lips again on his own. You could sense the camera on you as Michael slid his eager tongue into your mouth — the wet muscle exploring yours as his right hand levitated in the air, capturing every second of your private moment. His spare hand slid up the centre of your spine, fingers tips tracing the dip, pushing you closer to his chest.
“Michael, turn it of—“ “Shh, just let it happen, doll.”
His muffled dismissal against your lips had you huffing into his — giving up fighting him. Luckily for Michael, you soon forgot about his little friend in the air — your enclosed lip-locking becoming increasingly more heated as time pursed. Your hips ground against his own involuntarily, muscle memory kicking in from your many previous sensual encounters, eliciting a sharp gasp from your throat. Michael hummed into your mouth at the sound of your first pretty noise of the night — the excitement of his future self watching the tape back and watching your neediness increase in real time had him buzzing.
Michael bucked his hips up to meet yours halfway — a genuine whine of desperation leaving your mouth against his own, still locked in a ferocious kiss. Your hands encased his flushed cheeks, holding him dearly close to you, your whines blossoming into authentic moans of pleasure as your throbbingly touch-starved clit nudged against the painfully obvious bulge in his slacks.
Your lips left Michael’s in a frantic, needy frenzy — planting hot, open-mouthed kisses to his jawline, lips dragging along the spectacularly chiseled bone, smothering the skin in your mauve lipstick. Before following his anatomy and furthering your pout down his neck, licking a tentative stripe down the slope.
Michael shuddered under your brutal teasing, hands twitching around the camera ever so slightly. He peered up at it, ensuring he was capturing you in the perfect way.
“Gosh, baby, y’look so pretty like that.” Michael breathed, titling his head back to allow you to expand your surface area of tentative licks, “Kissin’ all on me like that.”
At this point, all the sense you had to smack that camera out of Michael’s hand had long left your head. Now, all you were interested in was pressing hot kisses down Michael’s chest, shoving the loose shirt off his torso to give yourself more room to worship his body with your mouth.
Above you, Michael had managed to shift the camera angle down, now holding the painfully obvious equipment with two hands, resting on his heaving chest — angling it just right to show your arched frame moving down his body, lipstick marks forming on his glossed skin. Your manicured hands reached the waistband of his slacks before peering your head up from his crotch, eyeing him seriously, as if to say put that thing away now.
“Please?” His pleading, slightly whiny voice had any form of judgment you’d once obtained now ten feet out the window as his eyes sparkled above you — lip threatening to fall into a pout as the camera taped you rolling your eyes before unbuckling his trousers, shoving them down his thighs. Michael grinned excitedly as you pressed your chest close to the aching bulge in his boxers.
“Wow, you really do like that camera, huh?” You teased, tracing a calculated finger down the ridge of his hard cock.
Michael hissed at the sudden, feather-light touch, knuckles going white around said tech, lip being gnawed by his pearly whites at the sight of you between legs.
“Quit teasin’.” He spoke shyly, his eyes flicking between the screen and your in-person frame, an anticipatory smile on his face.
Usually, Michael would dislike it when you suck his dick — believing his lady should be pleasured and looked after, not made to strain herself for only his gain. But, he knew how you secretly enjoyed having your throat stuffed full, rendering completely at your mercy, so every once in a while, he’d allow it.
That and you looked so pretty with his cock in your mouth.
Especially on camera.
So, when your lips wrapped around the flushed head of his proud cock, Michael didn’t know whether to focus on making sure every second of this was caught on video, or the feeling of intense delight you were succumbing him to. You suckled the tip just how he liked, his salty, yet equally delicious, pre-cum flooding your taste buds, relishing in the way the perfect dip in his eyebrows adorned his face — he was crumbling.
“S-Shit, sweetheart, doin’ so good.” He panted, thighs tensing against your hands as you steadied yourself on the meaty muscle.
You slid him deeper, tongue dancing over the throbbing vein on the underside of his shaft, while your pretty fingers wrapped around the base, pumping him slowly in beat with your eager mouth. Michael watched you like a hawk — heart thumping in his chest so hard he was certain the tachycardia was going to send him into cardiac arrest at the way your seductive, doe eyes fluttered up at him through your lashes.
“Oh, Lord.” He heaved, head falling back against the pillow as the head of his swollen manhood punched the back of your throat — a loud gag of rejection sounding out into the room.
Michael secretly adored when you did that.
In his trance of lust, the camera slipped from his grasp, sliding down his side, leaving his hands free to slither down and cradle your face. You noticed.
“Ah, ah, ah!” You teased, pulling off his cock with a pop, saliva connecting you even in disengagement, “Thought you wanted it filmin’, angelface?”
Michael whined, trembling hands leaving your face to pull the camera back into his possession — focusing the lense to put you back into shot. Michael’s breath hitched at the sight — even on the choppy, blurry screen, your blown out pupils, tear-streaked, flushed red cheeks and swollen lips glossed with spit and his pre-cum had him twitching in your hand as you pumped him slowly.
“Look so fuckin’ good, girl.” He admitted, furrowed eyebrows hidden between the large hunk of plastic as he watched through it, “Can’t wait to watch this later.”
You laughed, pressing a kiss to the head, collecting the pre-cum that dribbled down him with the tip of your tongue, smiling at the way Michael whined, “Oh, you dirty dog, Michael Jackson.”
Michael chuckled cheekily, “Come up here, wanna feel you.”
Obeying his orders, you let his hardened cock fall against his tensed abdomen, climbing up him once more. Your hips settled either side of him against, clothed pussy lips now hugging the thickness of his cock through your soaked panties.
“Well, would you look at that?” He started, a teasing finger coming down to toy with your damp underwear, a whine leaving your lips at the tentative touches, “Looks like you’re enjoying this after all, hm?”
You failed to reply — words catching in your throat as his finger traced the outline of your aching clit through the thin material, your lips parting at the sheer sensuality of his touch.
“Where’s that teasin’ girl gone, hm? Cat got your tongue, mama?”
“Michael.” Your voice a whiny, needy plea of despair.
“What, baby? Talk to me. Tell me whatcha’ need.” He coaxed, his tone a gentle dominant force that your mouth rambling to answer, to please.
You whined, hips rolling against the hard of his cock, rubbing alongside the pad of his finger that remained flat against your nub, “Plea—please, need it—need to feel you.”
Michael’s hand, steadily holding the camera, angled it perfectly to show your needy pussy humping his cock, as well as the eyebrows knitted in lust on your pretty little face — his cock twitching at the thought of fucking his hand to the recording later.
Michael tapped your hip, demanding you lift your hips to have access to your drooling cunt. He peeled the drenched cotton panties from your puffy pussy lips, tucking them to the side of your vulva. With practiced ease, Michael slid an expert finger between the slickness of your cunt — collecting the sweet essence of your arousal on his digits. With methodical swiftness, a long finger of Michael’s slipped into the clenching hole which needed him most.
“Mmh, such a pretty pussy, doll. Got all wet just for me?”
Michael knew the answer, he just loved to hear you say it. Loved to hear you admit in your drunken state of ecstasy that he was the one to make you slick with arousal. Michael’s fingers moved with excellence you were stunned by each and every time — the relentless abuse against the sweet, spongy spot inside you that had you crying out, tears jerking from your ears at the sheer force of the sensation.
“Ooh, there she go,” He whispered, the ball of his hand coming up to roll against the excluded nub that was screaming for touch, a move that had you sobbing, “That’s the spot, huh, ma? So good it got you cryin’ f’me, hm?”
His name left your swollen, cum-stained lips in a wretched sob, nails digging into the flex of his bicep, gripping on for dear life as you fucked yourself onto his hand.
“Y-Yes! Yes—o-ah! Yes, God, Mike—gonna cum!”
Michael could’ve laughed at the way your face dropped in sheer disbelief as he pulled his hand away from your sopping cunt after your confession of near climax. Your chest heaved, clit throbbing as your eyes welled up, pulling on Michael’s heartstrings.
“Oh, sweet girl.” He laughed, leaning up to press a soft kiss to your pouting lips, “Need you to cum around my cock, babygirl, yeah? Can you do that for me, pretty lady?”
You nodded meekly, bottom lip still jutted out in protest as Michael guided his cock between your shaking legs. Just as his burning hot tip slid into the familiar, wet comforts of your hole — your disappointed pout fell into a gasp of relief.
Michael laughed, his free hand coming to pull on your bottom lip, cock slipping further inside you, “Don’t want this out again, you hear me? No poutin’ girls around here.”
You nodded feverishly — not ever wanting to disobey him, in fear he’d take away the one thing that’s fulfilling the desire that burned fiercely inside you, as he stretched you open, inch by inch. The camera, still rolling, captured all of this — the way each inch of his cock disappeared slowly, your pretty pussy lips wrapped around his shaft, your slick drooling around him.
You whined, feeling impossibly full as he bottomed out, seating you fully down onto his pelvis. His own bottom lip was sucked in between his teeth, admiring the sight of your perfect frame on top of him.
“Oh, I bet you’re so full, huh, baby? Usually don’t let y’ride me first — can feel that pussy throbbing.” He confessed, laughing softly as you whimpered, his free hand slithering up your bared body — making sure to record his hand palming your tits through your lacy bra.
Michael wasted no time pulling the material off your body, reaching behind you to flick the fastener apart one-handed — watching as the bra fell from your chest, your perky tits on full display to him, and the camera, of course. His teasing fingers crawled up you, grabbing a gentle handful of your right breast, humming at the feeling of the soft skin and the sound of your desperate moan. You shuffled around him — wincing at the feeling of his perfectly curved cock nudging your quivering walls, awaiting the approval to start moving.
No matter what you were doing — Michael was always in control.
Michael moved his hand to roll your erect nipple in between his nimble fingers, “Go’head, girl, show me how much you need it.”
You didn’t wait for him to change his mind, not that he would with the way you were clenching eagerly around him, lifting your hips off him, about half-way, before slamming back down. Your head fell back instinctively, a cry of sheer joy slipping from your lips, only encouraging Michael to throb inside you.
“Come on, sweetheart, falling apart after one bounce? Can do better than that.” He teased, smirking at the way you bit your lip shyly, suddenly embarrassed at how much effect he had over you.
Your hips rose again — now bouncing with the help of Michael’s tight grip on your hip, pulling you up and down on him. You whined, cheeks flushed in timidity as he hummed behind the screen.
“Oh, that’s the fuckin’ money shot, girl. My baby’s a natural. Look at that pussy—fuck, yeah, doll, keep goin’.”
Michael’s words of encouragement had you crying out — moaning in pure lust as his cock continued to relentlessly nudge against the best spot inside you, one he never failed to hit each time. Michael’s hand cradled your hips dominantly, grinding you down with each movement, rubbing your clit onto his neatly groomed pubic bone, failing to hide the smirk that crept onto his face at the sound of your needy noises.
“That’s it — let me hear you, darling.”
“Mike.” You whined, hand coming up to grabs handful of your tits and the other holding yourself up on his chest, slick with sweat. Michael’s eyes could’ve popped out of his head at the sight of you — seductively playing with your perky breasts, nipples rolling between your fingers like he once did, head thrown back, mouth agape letting your slutty moans fall upon his perked up ears.
Now, this was the shot.
Michael couldn’t wait another moment. Throwing the camera down on the bed, he lifted you up with both strong hands, pulling you off his slicked cock, and laying you down gently on the bed with ease.
“Mikey.” You whinged, “Please.”
“I know, sweet thing, ‘m coming back, don’t worry that pretty little head.” He reassured, pressing a gentle kiss to the corner of your mouth.
Michael slid you onto your side with ease, one shaking leg laying over the other, revealing your swollen cunt. He slid a soft hand over your skin, squeezing the plush of your ass, humming at the sight of you beneath him. He picked up the discarded camera once more, pointing it down at you once more.
“Now, this,” He started, “is the perfect position for when my baby’s gettin’ recorded. Y’know why, sweet girl?” He spoke, sliding the flushed head of his cock between your drooling folds, ignoring the way you whined loudly, peering up at him as if to beg him to shut up and just fuck you, “Because I can see this perfect ass, cute lil’ waist, beautiful titties, and most importantly,” He complimented cheekily, free hand sliding over each body part as he listed them, before gripping your chin between his index finger and thumb, “This pretty little face makin’ the cutest faces while I fuck her needy little pussy.”
Michael entered you in one swift motion — the cutest faces he was referring to filling your expression, a loud cry leaving your lips. His name fell from your mouth like a prayer, a chant, as he rocked into you deeply — his cock-end nudging your cervix each time, sending you clawing at the bedsheets. Pleased with himself, Michael smiled behind the camera once more, angling it down perfectly to capture every aspect of you he listed — tits bouncing, ass recoiling against his abdomen, face contorted into pleasure and his cock sliding in and out of your raw cunt, a white, milky ring forming around the base of him.
Michael was in heaven — knowing this video wouldn’t be your last as he watched you through the small screen, hand now clawing at his flexed arm, nails digging into the skin as he filled you.
“Michael, Michael!—fuck, Mike, please, God, fuc—“
“Hmm, that’s right, dollface, tell me all about it. Feelin’ good?”
You whined desperately, clit throbbing against his free hand that had slithered between your sweating bodies to rub tight, practiced circled onto the aching nub, “Gonna fuckin’ cum, Mikey, please, don’t sto—ah!”
“Wasn’t plannin’ on it, sweet girl,” He admitted, leaning down, not caring about the camera angle, as he pressed soft kisses to your face, some landing on your parted lips, now only bothered about your pleasure, “Cum around me, baby, wanna feel it.”
The nearing peak of your orgasm crawled down your body, nestling in your abdomen, body slowly igniting in fierce heat. The sheer explicitness of the intimate moment had adrenaline and lust pumping through your veins. Your trembling hand reached across the bed, taking a hold of the camera once more, holding it out for him.
“Want it to see you fill me up wit—ah!—with your cum, Mikey, please.”
“Oh, fuck.”
Your provocative declaration had him frantic — doubling over, one hand on the bed, the other steadying the camera, fucking you twice as fast. Your cries only getting louder as he pounded the sweet spot inside you over and over again, his name being screamed so loud you were certain the whole house could hear.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah—there! ‘M there!”
You orgasmed with a cry so loud it had Michael cursing under his breath at the eroticism — revelling in the way your cunt squeezed him, sucking him in further as you came around him, nails dragging down his tensed back.
Michael wasn’t far behind you, fighting every urge in him to throw the camera away and fuck his seed so far into you that you’d be swollen with him for days, but holding it firmly in his grasp, recording just how sweetly your cunt milked him for everything he had to offer, your slickness pooling beneath you. He, though, forced himself as deep into you as he could go — making sure the camera picked up on his your cunt accommodated the sheer size of him, his milky white cum now frothing around the base of his softening cock.
He slowly pulled himself out of you with a wince, “Hold still for me, babygirl.” He ordered, forcing your legs to stay open as he leant down between your thighs, groaning at the way his cum drooled out of your swollen cunt, sliding down your shaking thighs.
Feeling a sense of post-orgasm confidence, you slid two tentative fingers between your legs, dipping into your sopping cunt, collecting both your juices onto your digits. Michael could sense where this was going, softened cock twitching, threatening to harden as you slipped your slick fingers into your mouth — sucking the mix of your salty and tangy essences clean from your burning skin.
“Holy shit, baby,” Michael breathed, feeling as though he was capturing pure talent through the screen as you released your fingers with a pop, similar to how you did with his cock prior, eyeing the camera with a knowing smirk,
18+ mdni.ᐟ ╱ ive been listening to invincible on repeat so… enjoy sum quick invincible!michael blurbs.ᐟ
invincible!mike gets so worked up at the slightest glimpse of you in heels, making your legs look sexy and slender—it’s one of his absolute weaknesses. not only your plump thighs but the way your louboutins made them look. he’ll tell you to strip everything except the heels.
invincible!mike definitely pulls your panties to the side to eat you out. yeah he can slide them aaall the way down your legs and have them pool around your ankles, but he loves seeing the tiny pink fabric decorate your dripping cunt. you’d take the fingers that he used to play with you to your mouth, sucking on them gently and licking up all the residue of you off of them. and this would send him into a frenzy.
raw & missionary. must i elaborate? ok i will. invincible!mike's favorite position is missionary cus’ he loves seeing your pretty face, as well as you love seeing his. he loves being able to kiss you as he pounds relentlessly into you, hitting your sweet spot that would send you over the edge. but i think he’d enjoy doggy every now and then, especially in front of a mirror, just so he can still keep an eye on you. all raw btw, cus’ he has a raging breeding kink. your sweet voice crying for him to fill you up, which he adores, with his hot seed and watch it drip out when he pulls out.
invincible!mike wouldn't be the biggest fan of blowjobs, prefers handjobs, but he’d love filming you going down on him. watching your head bob up and down, the only sounds of your slurps and his breathy, needy moans. the sounds alone making your panties soaked—even gets you off. and when he cums, he gets all flustered, becoming aware of how loud his noises just were. people thought his singing was amazing, well they should hear how he sounds when he’s coming undone. he’d save these recordings for when he’s touring and away from his favorite girl.
.ೃ࿔*:･ thinking about mature!michael being, as usual, shy in front of all the camera’s. stuttered answers, ducking his head at a particularly invasive question, or fighting to repress a blush that threatened to creep onto his face. but you? god you adored the camera’s, the attention, the flashing lights — it thrilled you to your core.
.ೃ࿔*:･ so, anytime you and mature!michael would attend an event or award ceremony — you took the lead, answering every question assertively and confidently, a pretty, proud smile on your face as you cling to michael’s sturdy arm, who sported a shy smile next to you. he loved it really, seeing you so self-assured and grounded without having to try — your answers so secure and media-trained it had him fighting a smile every time.
.ೃ࿔*:･ he also loved the way you’d defend him no matter — willing to drop the poised and composed act to protect him. he would have to smirk, his amused face pointing straight at the floor in an attempt to hide it, as you snapped back at a prying reporter. “and what’s your sex life like? does michael leave you satisfied?” you’d scoff in pure disgust, clutching onto mature!michael’s bicep tighter, “every time — something your wife can’t say.”
.ೃ࿔*:･ in return, mature!michael would rush you home — lay you gently on his bed, ensuring your comfort and contentment was a priority. making sure to undress you gently, whispering sweet nothings into your ear as he did so — “looked so gorgeous tonight, sweetheart” “i love it when you come to my defence so quickly — such a sweet girl aren’t you?” “wanted to taste you all night darling” followed by soft, feather-light kisses along every curve and service of your stark naked body sprawled out across the sheets for him.
ೃ࿔*:･ he’d take his time with you, ensuring every lick to your sopping slit and every suck on your aching clit was calculated, not stopping until you were literally speechless at the sheer volume of pleasure that coursed through your veins.
ೃ࿔*:･ but that was mature!michael’s plan all along — to make sweet love to your perfect body so good that it rendered you speechless. for him to be the talkative one and leave you at a loss for words. something you failed to do when at events. he loved to know that every flick of his tongue against your clit had you throwing your head back against the pillows, hands fisting the sheets and your mouth agape — moaning so loud he was certain everyone in new york would hear you.
ೃ࿔*:･ however, mature!michael’s favourite part of the night was when he first rocked deep into you — his impressively long, thick cock sliding inside your sacred cunt, sucking him in perfectly as he stretched you open inch by inch. simultaneously, he’d rub taut circles on your twitching nub with the pad of his thumb, stimulating you just enough to loosen your tight pussy up for his thick cock.
ೃ࿔*:･ he’d ensure your pleasure and enjoyment was at the top of his ‘to-do list’. literally. bottoming out so slowly it had you, even in your mild discomfort, begging for more — he’d refuse. “you did such a good job protecting me tonight, baby, let me make you feel good” “michael, pleas—“ “no, sweetheart, wanna take my time with you.” he’d whisper, pressing loving kisses over your face and jaw, an intimate display of his affection for you.
ೃ࿔*:･ soon, mature!michael would thrust into you, swiftly becoming quickened & deeper, more angled as his need for your pleasure to occur became stronger. his cock-end nudged the sweet spot inside you over and over again — having your jaw slack, lustful noises failing to leave your lips as you watched his cock, slicked in your essence, disappearing in and out of your clenching cunt, in awe of his ability to send you into ecstasy.
ೃ࿔*:･ he’d love to watch your mouth hanging open, eyes rolled to the back of your head as you failed to utter a single coherent sentence. “mm, sound so pretty, baby, tell me how good it feels.” the only response that met his ears was a series of curses and whines of pure arousal as his pace never faltered. “what was that, baby? have i made that smart lil’ mouth finally go quiet?” “c’mon, where’s my sassy lady gone, hm?”
ೃ࿔*:･ and mature!michael would only ever cum until you’d orgasmed around him first — coaxing a beautiful climax out of you, revelling in the way you screamed so intensely he was certain your voice would be gone so bad you wouldn’t even be able to sass the reporters if you tried. and once you’d come down from your high, your pussy now insanely slick with your cum now dripping down his tightened balls, you’d only speak to egg his orgasm on. “c’mon mikey, prove to those reporters how good this dick really is.”
ೃ࿔*:･ that’d send him over the edge, a needy groan leaving his swollen lips, glasses now loose on the bridge of his nose — his hands tightened around your hip as he rode out his high, filling you so deep, the feeling of his hot cum spurting into you had you speechless. again.
ೃ࿔*:･ “jeez, girl, gotta get you talkin’ feisty more often”
never fear — my usual writing style will stay if it’s loved, but just wanted to switch it up before i went to bed hehehe.
contains: sexual themes, fingering, squirting , dom!mature michael. fem!reader & use of ! baby & mama. kinda rushed? ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ໒꒱
݁ ˖Ი𐑼⋆ mature!michael barely looked up from the papers spread across the table when you walked into the room.
“Baby,” he said softly, already reaching for you the second you got close enough. You sighed dramatically. “You’ve been ignoring me for an hour.”
“I’m working.”
“Yeah..sure.” He finally glanced up then, amused by the pout on your face. Mature era Michael always had that unfairly calm expression when he knew he was getting under your skin. “Come here,” he murmured. You stepped between his knees and immediately his hands settled on your hips, warm and possessive through the thin fabric of your skirt. He leaned back in the chair, staring at you quietly for a second before smiling a little. “Attitude today?”
“You started it.” You rolled your eyes. “Oh, did I?” His fingers slid slowly along your thighs, teasing, unhurried. The movement made you inhale sharply and he noticed immediately, eyes darkening just slightly. Michael loved that—loved seeing your composure crack first.
. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.
“Mama,” he said lowly, thumb rubbing against your skin while you tried not to react, “you get needy so fast.” You rolled your eyes, but it was weak. “S-shut up.” That only made him laugh softly. “So pretty when you’re pretending not to want me.”
The worst thing about Michael was how patient he was. He’d keep you right there between his legs, touching you slowly until your hands ended up gripping his shoulders for balance. Meanwhile he stayed completely composed, looking up at you with that lazy little smile like he had all the time in the world. “Look at you,” he murmured. “Can barely stand still. Mmh.”
“Michael…” You bite your lip. “Mmhh..There she is,” he whispered instantly, voice warm with satisfaction the second you finally sounded desperate for him. “That’s my baby.” He smirks and bite his lips. “You’re gonna’ have to keep it down mama, if you don’t want to get caught. I’ll gladly fuck you in the middle of my office with an audience if it meant that everyone knows you’re mine and I’m yours, you wan’ that?”
He carefully placed you down on his lap, and lifted your skirt, to put his hands down your skirt. “Spread your legs baby.” He helps you spread your legs wider with his big hands. His fingers ran down your pussy to dip into your soaking hole. Oh and did i mention he already took your panties of?? You let out a moan and touched his wrist as he took his wet fingers and circled your clit with them.
“Ohhh yess moan for me baby. Moan for me. That’s a mama mmhh.” he cooed into your open mouth. Your breath fanning his face as he started to finger you harder and faster.
“Fuck, look at thattt, you’re so fucking wet mama. Hear your delicious juices already squirting around my fingers” His fingers curled up to hit your g spot and you were convinced that your half of your skirt were completely soaked at this point. “That feels good Mmh?” He grabs his clean hand to make you look at him. You can also feel that he’s hard.
Then, He slides his second finger inside you, slow and deliberate, curling it to find that spot again, Making deeeeep eye contact with you and that makes your vision white out, and you moan, long and loud, unable to help yourself. He tried and adds a third finger… yes girl, a third one.
stretching you, filling you, and he starts to pump them in and out, his wrist twisting, his knuckles dragging against your walls in a way that makes you see stars. “A-ah! ff-fuckk, michael! Yes!”
You came hard on his fingers with a loud, shuddering scream. “Michael—! Fuck, I’m cumming—!” Your entire body convulsed hard, thighs clamping around his fingers, shaking your head and stopping his hand, powerful waves of pleasure crashed through you. “Fuckk.. atta girl, mmhh so, so good.”
Your pussy clenched and fluttered around his fingers gushing wetly on his lap and fingers while he continued to rub your clit, to see a small reaction. “Mean, huh? aww look at you mama.”
through every pulse of your orgasm. You thrashed on the chaise, moaning shamelessly, eyes squeezed shut as the intense release left you trembling and breathless. His other hand stayed firmly on your hand that’s stopping him.
you fix yourself on him and your skirt then turning towards him very shy… his eyes meet yours. “you did so good mama. So good.” he says, squeezing your legs softly. you two smile at each other and he hugs you right. “You really embarrassed me, Michael.” You said shyly. (◞‸ ◟)💧 He kisses your forehead. “Don’t be embarrassed’ mama, you did so well.”
mil talks ૮ • ﻌ - ა. First time writing smut.. heh nervous >.< its lwk ahh.. so I’ll probably delete it.
warning: smut, cheating, unprotected sex, just nasty messy smut
i dont even have a title for this read at your own risk
mature era michael
-
I shake my head as i slam the bedroom door in my husband’s face, again. I hear him yelling my name as i walk over to sit down on our shared bed. I rub my temples, trying to calm down before I snap and walk out of this house for good. Chris and I have been on a rocky road in the past few months, I genuinely thought that he was the love of my life. He used to be so sweet and say the kindest things to me but now, it seems that every day ends in a screaming match.
“You better let me in this room right now” he yells as he pounds his fists against the locked door. “I’m not letting you in until you calm down” I say as I can practically hear him roll his eyes. This started off as a small argument on his parents staying over next weekend. I told him I was not in the mood for it and would like to spend a quiet weekend to which he responded by blowing up in my face. He accused me of hating his family and being lazy, not putting in the effort where I needed to put it. In my defence, I am just so tired and need some time to just relax but I guess he doesn’t understand that. I was not rude about it either, I even suggested that they could come at a different time to which he said I was being difficult.
The pounding on the door eventually stops as he retreats and I hear the television in the living room turn on. I sigh as I look around our bedroom, a place where I once felt so much comfort. How did this go so wrong? The phone starts ringing on my bedside and I answer it immediately.
“Hello?”
“Hey, how are you?” a soft voice fills my ear and my smile grows wide, recognizing Michael. I look over at the locked door and sit on the bed as I sigh into the phone.
I hesitate before finally saying “I’m alright”
“No you’re not” Michael sighs as he continues “What happened? Did he do something?” His worried tone fills the silence in the room.
“It’s fine, Michael” I mumble as I play with the ring on my finger.
“Don’t lie to me” he says softly and I could just about melt at the sound of his voice.
“Can I come see you?” I blurt out before even thinking. I slap my hand across my mouth and shake my head as I hear him giggle.
“Sure, honey. I’ll be here waiting” he says as we both say our goodbyes and hang up. I usually am not so straight forward like this with him, especially not since I got married to my husband.
Michael and I have an interesting relationship. We first met a few years ago when I was cast to be in one of his music videos. During the filming of the video, the tension between us was so strong that I could barely focus on what I was supposed to be doing. The way he moved and sang over the playback as he glanced at me, I still remember how much I wanted to kiss him right then and there. He was the most beautiful man I have ever laid eyes on. He definitely noticed me staring at him the whole time because he pulled me aside after the day had wrapped up. We looked into each-others eyes and our lips met before any of us could even get a word out. He felt so good pressed up against me as his tongue made its way into my mouth. He grabbed my hand and guided me to his dressing room where he locked the door before pinning me against it, our hips moving together as our lips stayed locked. He layed me down on the couch as he took off my clothes. I had never felt anything like this with anyone before. The way he moved against me as we moaned in each others mouths.
We stayed in touch after that. Michael would call me almost every night and we would see each other almost weekly. Anytime one or the other would feel like they needed someone, we would be there for each other. We kept up these little affairs up until I got married. We still talk and meet up but we don’t really sleep together anymore. I can’t lie and say i’m not attracted to the man, I sometimes wish it was him who I came home to every night.
I put on one of my sweaters and slowly open the bedroom door and make my way to the living room. Chris is watching a football game as he sees me pass by.
“Are you going somewhere?” he asks as he takes a mouthful of whatever kind of candy he’s eating.
“Just going to Michael’s” I say as I grab my keys and open the front door.
“Okay, love you” he says as the cold fresh air hits my face. Chris doesn’t know about me and Michael’s affair. He always thought that we were just good friends, so it never bothered him for me to go over. What he doesn’t know is that Michael and I were hooking up until he asked me to marry him. I did not see the proposal coming and ended up telling Michael that we had to stop, we could remain friends but nothing more. He seemed surprised at first that I got engaged but eventually agreed to just being friends.
The drive over to Michael’s was quiet as I nervously tapped my fingers on the steering wheel. As I pull into the gated driveway, I slowly park and turn my car off, taking a deep breath before stepping out. The wind blows through my hair as I shiver, walking quickly towards the front door. A security guard opens the door for me and lets me step inside, I’m immediately met with his scent.
“I’m in here” Michael’s voice rings out as I follow the sound down to the kitchen. He’s leaning against the kitchen counter, dressed in all black as his silky hair falls gently down his face. He smiles as I approach him, he nods towards the chair infront of him for me to take a seat.
“How are you?” he asks as his big eyes stare into mine. My heart pounds against my chest as he walks towards me, sitting down on the chair right next to mine. Our thighs barely brush against each other as I feel heat creeping into my cheeks.
“I told you, I’m doing alright” I mumble out. He sighs and scratches the back of his head.
“I know you’re lying” he says softly as I fidget with my ring.
“I’m worried about you” he whispers, knowing all too well that this has to be about Chris. He has never told her how much he hates his guts. He saw through him the second they met, how he looked at her as if she was a burden. It pissed him off. He doesn’t understand how she can’t see it.
“It was just an argument, it’s fine” I say as he scoffs. My eyebrows furrow at Michael’s reaction to my words. “What?”
He shakes his head and looks at me with an unreadable expression. He mutters something under his breath that I don’t understand.
“Michael?” I say, confused on why he’s having such an attitude. A strand of hair falls in his face, making him look even better, if that was even possible.
“You can’t be serious” he says while staring me down. I shift uncomfortably in my seat as I just look at him, not saying anything as he rolls his eyes.
“Every time I talk to you, you always say you’re fine but I can tell you’re not. And it’s always got something to do with that asshole you call your husband.” he takes a deep breath then stands up.
“Michael what-“
“No, I’m sick and tired of him treating you like you’re a piece of garbage and you not seeing it” he shakes his head in disbelief, biting his lip.
“Michael it’s not that simple, I can’t just leave him like that and throw away my life.” I tell him. “We have a home together, we’re married, I have no where else to go, we’re just going through a rough patch” I say as convincingly as I can as he meets my gaze. He stands there for a moment before slowly walking over to me until we are inches apart.
The silence between us is heavy, as my heart is beating out of my chest, the closeness making me feel slightly out of breath. We stand there, as only our breathing can be heard, I’m fighting every instinct in my body not to kiss him as he looks down at me. His gaze lingers on my lips as I slowly take a step back.
“Michael I-“
“Shhh don’t fight it” he mumbles as he takes a step closer again, our bodies touching. He leans in and tilts my head to the side as he whispers in my ear “Do you remember how it feels?”
I shiver as I feel his breath against my skin, igniting my body on fire.
“We can’t” my voice is barely above a whisper. My body however reacts differently and I lean into him as his hands softly grips my waist.
“Tell me to stop” he says as I feel myself slipping. The ache between my legs growing more intense by the second, the tension between us is becoming unbearable. A million thoughts are running through my head as my eyes flicker to his lips. Before I can even process what I’m doing, my hands are grabbing his face and pulling his lips against mine. His grip on my waist tightens as our lips finally meet for the first time in a long time.
The kiss grows deeper as he slips his tongue into my mouth, my arms wrapping around his neck as I twirl a strand of his hair around my I finger. He bends down slightly sliding his hands down to pick me up, my legs wrapping around his waist. He carries us over into his bedroom, closing the door before laying me down on his bed. His lips find mine again as his hands roam over my body, he looks up at me, waiting for my for my approval to take my shirt off. I nod quickly as he pulls my shirt over my head and start leaving a trail of kisses from my neck down to my collarbone.
I gasp as I feel his hands tug at my pants as he kisses me feverishly. I lift my hips up against him to let him pull down my pants and my underwear at the same time and I feel him grin against my lips.
“You’re so eager for me” he whispers against my lips. “Bet you think about me when you’re in bed with him” he says as I whimper pathetically to his words. “I know I can make you feel so much better than he does” his hand torturously moving down towards where I need him most.
“Please”
“Tell me what you need baby” he says in a low voice, his hand landing on my inner thigh.
“I need you” I whimper desperately.
“Yeah? You want me to touch you?” his hand slowly rubs my inner thigh, teasing me as much as possible, dragging this out as much as he can. His fingers finally make his way to slowly circle my clit as his eyes meet mine.
I moan softly at the touch which makes him smirk, he knows he has you wrapped around his fingers.
“Does he touch you like I do?” he asks as he adds more pressure, circling my clit faster as my head falls back into the pillow. I shake my head as I bite my lip, holding back from being embarrassingly loud. He suddenly slowly pumps his fingers inside me, desperate moans leaving my mouth as he picks up speed. My eyes flutter shut as I feel his fingers keep thrusting inside me, his other hand is wrapped around my thigh as he slowly kisses my lower stomach.
Right now, I wish I wasn’t married. I wish we could always be this way, that this feeling would never leave. His tongue dragged slowly up my slit, as I moaned loudly, my hips twitching as he licked me again, firmer this time, as he circled my clit teasingly, then sucked it gently into his mouth.
“Oh god—Michael,” I gasp, my fingers pulling his hair, as he groaned at the feeling, the vibration making my thighs shake. His fingers thrust and curl inside me, as I feel pressure building in my body.
“I’m so close” I moan as he suddenly pulls away. The loss of contact making me whimper pathetically.
“You’re not coming on my tongue tonight, you’re going to come on my cock like a good girl. I want to feel you squeeze around me” he says as he takes off his pants, my heart pounding in my chest with anticipation and need. I see him reach for his phone on the nightstand before handing it to me, a devilish expression flashes across his face.
“Your husband must wonder what you’re doing right now hm? Why don’t you give him a call? Let him hear how well you’re being taken care of” he says as my eyes widen at his suggestion. I feel his tip at my entrance as I stare at the phone in my hand.
“Michael, I can’t do that” I tell him as he takes the phone from my hands. His eyes meet mine as if looking if I’m into this and grins when he sees how needy I am for him as he pressed dial. My eyes widen as the phone rings, he shoves it back in my hands as he grabs my hips sliding his tip against my clit.
On the third ring, Chris answers.
“Hello?”
At that exact moment, Michael thrust forward hard, sinking his cock halfway into me, in one smooth stroke.
“Oh—fuck!” I cried out sharply, unable to hold it back.
Chris immediately turned suspicious. “What the hell was that?“
He smirked up at me and pushed himself the rest of the way in, burying himself inside me with a low groan.
“H-hey…” I breathed, my voice trembling.
Michael leaned down, his lips brushing my ear as he thrust into me again. “Tell him,” he whispered. “Tell him what you’re really doing while he’s sitting at home.”
Chris sounded irritated. “What’s going on?”
“I’m… ah— I’m out right now,” I lied poorly, biting my lip hard.
He slammed into me harder, one hand gripping my thigh as he thrusts. “Tell him, baby. Tell your husband how full you feel right now.”
Chris started yelling. “Who the fuck is this?! Is this Michael?!?”
I could barely speak. Every thrust knocked the air out of my lungs, his cock hitting deep inside of me while the phone stayed on speaker.
“Oh my god—” I moaned shamelessly, legs shaking. “He’s so deep… I’m sorry—”
“What the fuck did you just say?!“ I hear him yell on the other line.
Michael didn’t miss a beat. He gripped my hips tighter and started fucking me with long, strokes, his cock plunging deep into my soaked pussy again and again. The wet, sound of skin slapping skin was unmistakable.
I moaned loudly, my voice breaking. “He’s… he’s fucking me— oh god— I… I can’t do this anymore—” I gasp as he thrust hard. “I’m done. I’m breaking up with you.”
Michael’s eyes go wide as he continues to thrust into me I moan loudly as he picks up speed, clearly turned on by the moment.
“I’m serious,” I continue, my voice breaking with pleasure. “You treat me like shit… you never touch me… you make me feel worthless— Oh god, right there—”
Michael groans and gripped my thighs tighter, fucking me relentlessly. “That’s it, baby. Tell him.”
I throw the phone across the room. “I can’t believe I just did that” I say as he continues to thrust into me, the pressure becoming unbearable as I moan loudly.
“Go on, baby. Come on my cock. I want to feel you lose it. Let go and soak me.”
My body was shaking, legs locked tight around him.
“That’s right,” “You’re mine now. No more of him. Just my cock from now on.”
He reached between them and rubbed my clit fast, thrusting hard and deep.
“Come for me, baby. Show me who you belong to.”
That’s what sent me over the edge.
My back arched violently as my orgasm ripped through me.
“That’s it… That’s it” he groans, still fucking me through my orgasm “You’re mine now. All mine.”
“Baby…” he whispers, brushing his lips against mine. “I’m so close.”
“Please,” I whisper desperately. “Come inside me… I want to feel you fill me up.”
He moaned quietly, pressing his forehead to hers as he keeps thrusting steadily.
My words made him shiver. He kissed me deeply, one hand gently cradling the side of my face as his thrusts grew a little faster.
“I’m yours now,” I whisper between kisses.
That was all it took.
He moaned softly against my mouth as he pushed deep as pulses of his come flooded me, filling me up as he stayed buried inside me, grinding slowly through every wave of his release.
“That’s it, baby… I’ve got you so full.”
He stayed inside me for a long moment afterward, kissing me softly while we both caught our breath.
“You’re mine now,” he said gently, pressing another kiss to my lips. “All mine.
“Stay right here, baby,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to my forehead. He disappeared into the bathroom for a minute and returned with a warm, damp cloth and a glass of water. He sat on the edge of the bed and carefully cleaning us gently.
“How are you feeling?” he asked softly, his voice full of care.
I hummed, still a little dazed. “Really good… but a little shaky.”
He smiled and set the cloth aside, then climbed back into bed and pulled me into his arms. He wrapped me up against his chest, one hand gently stroking her back while the other played with my hair.
“You did so well tonight,” he murmured, kissing the top of my head.
“And I’m going to take care of you. No more feeling unwanted. No more being treated like shit. Just this… just us.”
He reaches over and handed me the glass of water. “Drink for me, baby.“
While I drank, he kept rubbing slow, soothing circles on my back. When I finished, he took the glass and set it down, then pulled the blankets over both of us.
“Come here,” he whispered, guiding me to rest my head on his chest. “I’ve got you. Just relax.”
We stayed like that for a while — tangled together, soft kisses pressed to my temple and shoulders as he held me close.
“You’re safe with me,” he said quietly. “I promise.”
— tags : virgin!reader, badera!michael, fingering, riding, first time, little fluff at the end
— disclaimer : y’all are so freaked out (ngl i am too bc i’m the one writing things like that) i don’t even have a plot for this one i’m just going straight to the best moment fr
ᝰ.ᐟ꩜ even though it’s the first time, who said it was not possible to have a bit of control?
████████
the soft hum of the air conditioner was the only sound in the room, punctuated by the rhythmic thumping of her heart against her ribs. michael’s arm was draped loosely over her waist, his thumb tracing absentminded circles over the silk of her pajamas. they were both tangled in the heavy duvet, the moonlight filtering through the blinds and casting silver stripes across his messy curls.
he leaned in closer, the scent of his cologne—something woody and familiar—filling her senses as he pressed a lingering kiss to the crook of her neck. she felt a shiver run down her spine that had nothing to do with the cold. when he pulled back, his dark eyes searched hers with an intensity that made her breath hitch. he seemed to sense the shift in the air, the way she leaned into his touch instead of away.
"you okay?" he whispered, his voice low and gravelly in the quiet of the night.
she nodded, reaching up to brush a stray hair from his forehead, her fingers lingering there. "just thinking."
"about?"
"about how much i want you," she admitted, her voice barely a breath.
michael’s expression softened, a small, tender smile tugging at the corners of his lips. he moved with a slow, deliberate grace, hovering over her while keeping his weight on his elbows. his hand moved from her waist to cup her cheek, his thumb brushing over her bottom lip. he was being so careful, so attentive, as if she were something precious he was afraid of breaking.
"i want you too," he murmured, his gaze dropping to her lips before meeting her eyes again. "but we go at your pace. always."
she reached up, pulling him down for a kiss that tasted like a promise. it started slow, a gentle exploration of heat and friction, but as he pulled her closer, the rest of the world seemed to melt away, leaving only the two of them in the cocoon of the blankets.
instead of the shy nod or the hesitant smile he was used to, she surprised him. she reached up, her fingers sliding firmly into the thick curls at the nape of his neck, and pulled him down with a sudden, deliberate strength.
the kiss was nothing like their usual gentle exchanges. it was bold, hungry, and carried a level of confidence that caught him completely off guard. she didn't wait for him to lead; she claimed his lips with a desperate fervor, her tongue tracing the seam of his mouth until he arched into her. she was kissing him as if she couldn't get enough, her movements assertive and demanding.
michael’s eyes widened for a split second against her skin, his breath hitching in his throat. he noticed the way she didn't shrink back, the way her hands didn't tremble but instead gripped him with a new sense of authority. he could feel the shift in her energy—a raw, famished intensity that replaced her usual bashfulness. it was as if she had finally decided to stop holding back, and the sheer power of her confidence sent a jolt of pure electricity through his chest.
he leaned into it, his own hands tightening on her waist as he realized that tonight, the girl he usually protected was the one taking exactly what she wanted.
michael pulled back just an inch, his lips still brushing against hers, a breathless, surprised chuckle vibrating in his chest. he looked down at her, his dark eyes sparkling with a mixture of amusement and genuine heat. the usual shyness he was so accustomed to had completely vanished, replaced by a fire that left him feeling slightly lightheaded.
"wow," he murmured, a playful, lopsided grin tugging at his lips as he tightened his grip on her waist. "what's gotten into you all of a sudden? i've never seen you this... assertive."
he let out a soft, teasing hum, his nose nipping at hers as he studied the newfound confidence in her gaze. "not that i'm complaining, mind you. but you're being so bold tonight, it’s almost like you’re trying to take charge of me."
his voice was a low, melodic velvet, dripping with a lighthearted challenge. he tilted his head, watching her closely, his thumb tracing the line of her jaw as if he were trying to uncover the secret behind her sudden spark. "is there a reason you're acting so hungry for me? because you're definitely keeping me on my toes, and i’m starting to think i might have my hands full."
she didn't answer with words. instead, she let out a soft, shaky exhale and pulled him back down, her lips finding the sensitive skin of his neck. she bit down ever so slightly, a tiny nipping motion that made him groan low in his throat, before she began to trail frantic, wet kisses up toward his ear. her body was pressed flush against his, and he could feel the heat radiating off her skin, the way she seemed to be searching for every ounce of contact possible.
her hands weren't still for a second; they wandered under the hem of his shirt, her palms flat against his warm skin, moving with a restless, starving energy. she was no longer just responding to him; she was pursuing him, her movements filled with a raw, undeniable hunger that made his head spin.
michael felt his own heart hammering against his ribs like a trapped bird. the playfulness in his expression began to fade, replaced by a heavy, hooded look of realization. he caught her wrists gently, pinning them against the pillow for just a moment to force her to look at him, his own breathing coming in shallow, ragged bursts.
"hey," he whispered, his voice dropping an octave, becoming thick and serious. he searched her eyes, seeing the dark, dilated pupils and the sheer wanting written across her face. "you're really... you're really feeling this tonight, aren't you?"
he let go of her wrists, his hand sliding down to rest over her heart, feeling it mirror the frantic pace of his own. he leaned in until their foreheads were touching, his voice barely audible.
"is this what you want? do you want to go all the way tonight?"
she looked up at him, the bold fire in her eyes momentarily softening into something more vulnerable as the weight of the question hung in the air. a light flush crept up her neck and settled into her cheeks, and for a second, she looked away before meeting his gaze again with quiet resolve.
"yes," she whispered, her voice a little small and trembling, but filled with a depth of feeling that was unmistakable. she took a shallow breath, her fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. "i’m sure, michael. i... i’ve never wanted anything more. i really want this. with you."
michael’s expression was a portrait of pure, tender devotion. even with the heat of the moment pulsing through him, his protective nature remained at the forefront. he didn't move immediately; instead, he searched her face, his thumb gently stroking her cheekbone as if he were trying to read every thought behind her eyes. he wanted to make sure there wasn't a single shred of doubt or pressure hiding in her heart.
"are you absolutely sure?" he asked, his voice low and incredibly gentle, like a velvet caress. "there’s no rush, you know. we can stop right now, or we can just keep kissing. i only want this if it’s exactly what you want, right this second."
he leaned in, his lips hovering just a fraction of an inch from hers, giving her every opportunity to back away. "i need you to be certain, okay? because your comfort means more to me than anything else in this world."
she let out a frustrated, needy whimper, her fingers tightening in his hair as she pulled his face back down toward hers. the wait was becoming unbearable, the heat in her belly coiling into a tight, desperate knot.
"yes, michael, please," she breathed out, the words tumbling out in a frantic rush. "i’m sure. i’m so sure. i’m literally begging you, stop talking and just... please."
a low, devilish chuckle vibrated in michael’s throat. he didn't move to continue; instead, he propped himself up on one elbow, looking down at her with a look of pure, playful mischief. he took his time, his eyes traveling slowly over her flushed face and her parted lips, clearly enjoying the way she was squirming beneath him.
"begging, are we?" he teased, his voice dropping into a velvety, rhythmic drawl. he leaned down, his lips ghosting over the shell of her ear, but he didn't kiss her. "and here i thought you were the shy one. i've never seen you so... impatient. what happened to that sweet, quiet girl i know?"
he trailed his fingers slowly down her side, barely touching her, just enough to make her skin prickle with anticipation. "you seem really, really desperate, sweetheart. are you really that hungry for me? because it’s kind of cute seeing you lose your cool like this."
he gave her a tiny, lingering peck on the tip of her nose, his eyes dancing with lighthearted malice. "maybe i should make you wait just a little bit longer, just to see how much more assertive you can get."
michael didn't make her wait any longer. he silenced her desperate protests by capturing her lips in a deep, languid kiss that seemed to pull the very air from her lungs. it wasn't the hurried kiss from before; this was slow, honey-thick, and incredibly thorough, his tongue dancing with hers in a way that made her head swim.
as they stayed locked together, he slowly shifted his weight, his lean body sliding over hers until he was fully draped against her, pinning her softly into the mattress. he was careful not to crush her, but the solid feel of him from chest to toe made her let out a muffled moan into his mouth.
his hands began a restless journey, roaming over her curves with a possessive but tender touch. he caressed the line of her hips, his palms sliding up over her ribs, his fingers grazing every inch of skin he could reach.
"you’re so beautiful," he murmured against her lips, his breath hot and smelling of mint. "you have no idea what you do to me when you look at me like that... so hungry, so sweet."
he broke the kiss to trail his lips down her jaw, his voice dropping into a raspy, seductive whisper that sent electricity through her veins. "i love how you feel underneath me. your skin is so soft, and you're so warm... you're perfect, you know that? absolutely perfect."
he moved his hand up to cradle her face, his thumb tracing the curve of her lower lip as he looked down at her with a gaze that was both incredibly soft and intensely dark. "i'm going to take such good care of you tonight. i promise. i'm going to show you exactly how much i love you."
the heat was becoming all-consuming, a fever that radiated from the core of her being and turned her blood into liquid fire. every place their skin met felt like a beautiful burn, and she found herself pressing closer, desperate to merge into him, to lose the boundary where she ended and he began. it was a physical hunger she had never experienced before—raw, heavy, and pulsing behind her ribs.
yet, woven through that burning desire was a sense of profound, quiet wonder. she felt like she was standing on the threshold of a vast, undiscovered world. every sensation was a revelation: the specific weight of his body pressing her into the mattress, the rough-soft texture of his fingertips, and the low, melodic vibration of his voice against her skin. it was the thrill of the unknown, a dizzying mix of adrenaline and discovery that made every second feel like a lifetime.
she looked up at him, completely entraged, and found herself utterly succumbing to his spell. the way the moonlight caught the sharp line of his jaw and the softness in his eyes made her heart ache with a fierce, overwhelming devotion. he wasn't just the man she wanted; he was her entire world in this moment, a steady anchor in the middle of this rising storm of sensation.
under the weight of his gaze and the tenderness of his touch, all her defenses simply melted away. she let herself fall, surrendering entirely to the charm he radiated, trusting him to lead her through this new territory. it was a total eclipse of the senses, where nothing existed except the heat of his body, the sweetness of his promises, and the beautiful, terrifying thrill of finally giving herself over to him.
sensing her anticipation, michael slowly pulled back, though his eyes never left hers. he moved with a deliberate, graceful rhythm, sitting up just enough to reach for the hem of his shirt. he wanted to show her there was nothing to fear, turning the simple act into a gesture of trust and vulnerability that only heightened the intimacy between them.
as he gripped the fabric and pulled the shirt over his head in one fluid motion, she felt her breath hitch in her throat. seeing him like this—the lean strength of his shoulders, the smooth expanse of his chest glowing under the soft silver moonlight—sent a fresh jolt of heat through her. he was breathtakingly beautiful, a perfect mix of power and gentleness, and the sight of him bare before her made the room feel suddenly much smaller and warmer.
he tossed the shirt aside, his gaze dropping back to her with a soft, knowing smile. he could see the way her eyes widened, the way her chest rose and fell in quick, shallow breaths as she took him in.
"you okay?" he asked, his voice a low, honeyed rasp. "you're looking at me like you want to eat me alive."
the sight of his bare skin made her impatience flare into a desperate, localized ache. she reached out, her fingers trembling slightly as she traced the line of his collarbone, her touch light but hungry. the confidence he was trying to instill in her had worked almost too well; she wasn't just comfortable anymore—elle était absolument impatiente.
she watched him, mesmerized by the play of shadows across his muscles as he moved, her mind racing with the realization that this was finally happening. she felt a surge of pride knowing that all of this—all of him—was hers in this moment, and the need to feel his skin against hers again, without any barriers, became a driving, frantic force in her mind.
"you're... you're so beautiful," she breathed out, her voice trembling with a mix of awe and pure, unfiltered desire. the words seemed to escape her before she could even think to hold them back, her eyes tracing every line of his torso with a hunger that made no effort to hide itself.
hearing her say it—seeing the genuine adoration and the raw want in her gaze—sent a visible shiver through michael. his pupils dilated until his eyes were almost entirely black, and he let out a low, shaky breath that sounded almost like a growl. her appreciation was the ultimate spark; it didn't just boost his confidence, it set his own blood on fire.
"you have no idea," he rasped, his voice thick with a new level of intensity. "you have no idea what you're doing to me right now."
he leaned back over her, capturing her lips again in a kiss that was much deeper and more possessive than the last. while his tongue tangled with hers, his hands moved with a slow, agonizingly careful precision. he reached for the first button of her pajama shirt, his fingers brushing against her skin, sending sparks dancing across her nerves.
one by one, he undid them, his eyes locked onto hers every time a new inch of skin was revealed. he moved with a reverence that made her feel like a masterpiece he was finally allowed to unveil. once the shirt was open, he didn't stop; his hands slid down to the waistband of her pants, his touch light and grounding.
he began to slide them down her hips with a slow, teasing pull, his movements so steady and deliberate that it only made her more frantic. she arched her back slightly, helping him, her breath hitching as the cool air hit her skin before being immediately replaced by the radiating heat of his body. he stayed close, his lips never leaving hers for more than a second, ensuring that even as the clothes disappeared, she felt completely enveloped by his presence and his touch.
with her pajamas finally gone, the cool air of the room felt like a sharp contrast to the radiating heat of michael’s body. he didn't move away to admire her from a distance; instead, he draped himself back over her, his skin finally meeting hers in a full, seamless contact that made her let out a long, shaky breath. the feeling of his bare chest against her own was a revelation—firm, warm, and pulsing with the same frantic heartbeat that was thundering in her own chest.
he propped himself up on his forearms, his dark curls falling forward as he looked down at her. his expression was no longer just playful; it was filled with a raw, almost reverent wonder. his hands, large and steady, began to wander again, tracing the curve of her waist and the flare of her hips as if he were memorizing her by touch alone.
"you have no idea," he whispered, his voice vibrating deep in his throat, "how long i've dreamed of seeing you like this. you're more beautiful than any vision i could have had."
she felt a surge of pure, unadulterated power at his words. the sight of him—this global icon, this man she admired so deeply—looking at her with such desperate, hungry devotion made her feel invincible. she didn't shrink away; instead, she arched her back, pressing her body more firmly against his, her hands sliding up his back to grip his shoulder blades.
she was famished for him, her touch becoming more insistent, her fingers digging into his muscles as she pulled him back down for another kiss. this one was even more intense, a silent communication of her readiness. she could feel his restraint beginning to fray, the way his muscles tensed under her fingertips, and it only fueled her confidence further. she wanted him to lose that legendary composure; she wanted to see exactly how much power she had over him.
michael let out a low, ragged moan into her mouth, his hands tightening on her hips. he could feel her impatience, her body practically vibrating with the need for more, and it was driving him over the edge. he began to trail a path of burning kisses from her lips down to her throat, his breath hitching as she tilted her head back to give him better access.
"you're so ready for me, aren't you?" he breathed against her skin, his voice a mix of awe and dark, simmering heat. "i can feel it... you're literally shaking."
michael’s hand slid down, his fingers grazing the elastic of her panties with a touch so light it was almost agonizing. he moved with an excruciating slowness, his eyes locked onto hers, searching for any flicker of hesitation even as the air between them grew thick with tension.
he hooked his thumbs into the sides of the fabric, inching them down over her hips. he paused halfway, his knuckles brushing against her skin, and he took a shaky breath to steady his own racing heart. the playfulness from before had completely vanished, replaced by a deep, protective seriousness that belonged only to her.
"last chance to change your mind," he whispered, his voice sounding thick and raw in the quiet room.
he didn't move another inch, holding the fabric in place, giving her the space to breathe and think. his gaze was a soft, dark velvet, grounding her despite the storm of heat swirling in her belly.
"i want this to be perfect for you. so i need to hear it again," he murmured, his thumb stroking the soft skin of her hip. "do you still want this? do you want me to keep going?"
he waited, his body poised and tense, showing her that even in his own state of desperate need, her choice was the only thing that mattered. he was hers to stop or hers to claim, and he wanted the answer to come from her own lips.
she didn't hesitate for a single second. "yes," she breathed out, the word more of a plea than a simple answer. "please, michael. keep going."
his gaze softened with an intense, soul-searing tenderness before he finally slid the last barrier away, tossing it onto the floor. the moonlight seemed to dance over her skin, and for a moment, he just looked at her, his expression one of pure, silent adoration.
"i've got you," he whispered, his voice like a vow. "i promise, i've got you."
the final barrier was gone, and for a heartbeat, time seemed to stand still. michael hovered over her, his eyes dark with a mixture of reverence and a heat so intense it felt like it could melt the very air between them. he didn't rush; he was being so incredibly patient, his every move designed to make her feel like she was the only thing that mattered in the world.
he propped himself up on his hands, his gaze traveling over her in the silver moonlight, making her feel completely seen. "you're so beautiful," he whispered again, his voice sounding raw and strained by his own restraint. "it's almost like you're made of light."
he began to kiss her again, but this time his hands were everywhere—mapping the curve of her waist, the soft skin of her thighs, his palms hot and steady against her. his touch was firm yet gentle, a soft dominance that made her feel safe enough to let go of every remaining inhibition. she felt the weight of him pressing her into the mattress, and it sent a fresh wave of fire through her veins.
she was more than ready—she was starving. the initial shyness had completely evaporated, replaced by a bold, hungry confidence. her fingers dug into the muscles of his back, her nails grazing his skin as she pulled him closer, her hips arching instinctively against his. she was making tiny, desperate sounds in the back of her throat, her breath coming in shallow hitches that mirrored the frantic beating of his own heart.
michael let out a low, shaky groan, his forehead dropping against hers as he tried to catch his breath. "you're making it so hard to be slow, sweetheart," he rasped, a playful yet desperate edge to his voice. "you're being so assertive tonight... it’s driving me absolutely crazy."
he began to use his hand to explore her further, his touch incredibly patient and fluid. he watched her face closely, his dark eyes searching for every reaction as he teased her with a slow, rhythmic grace. each movement was a promise of what was to come, but for now, he was content to let the tension build until she was practically vibrating beneath him, her confidence only growing as she realized just how much power she had over him.
michael shifted his weight slightly, hovering just over her, his dark eyes sparkling with that familiar, playful mischief. instead of giving her what she was so clearly begging for, he began to tease her, his touch ghosting over her entry with an excruciating slowness. he brushed against her, close enough to make her gasp, but deliberately held back from any real progress, just testing the waters to see how she would react.
the sensation was dizzying. a sharp, intense jolt of electricity shot straight up her spine, making her hips tilt upward instinctively to chase his touch. every tiny friction felt magnified, a rush of brand-new, overwhelming feeling that made her skin tingle and her heart pound like a hammer against her ribs.
"michael, please," she whined, her hands gripping his shoulders so tightly her knuckles turned white.
a low, pleased chuckle vibrated in his chest. he nipped at her lower lip, his gaze locked onto hers, thoroughly enjoying the sweet torture he was putting her through.
"you like that, sweetheart?" he murmured, his voice a gravelly, seductive velvet. he shifted just a fraction of an inch, teasing her again in a slow, circular motion that made her arch off the bed completely. "look at you... you're practically melting. i told you i wanted to see how impatient you could get."
he was deliberately heightening every single sensation, making her feel the agonizingly beautiful contrast between his hot skin and the cool air of the room. she was completely at the mercy of his rhythm, her breath coming in ragged, desperate pants as she realized he was testing her newfound confidence, daring her to see just how much of this sweet torment she could take before she completely lost her mind.
the playful smirk on michael’s lips softened into something much darker and more intense as he watched her squirm beneath him. he could feel the frantic heat radiating from her skin, and the temptation to push her newfound confidence just a little bit further was too hard to resist.
"you're so impatient tonight," he murmured, his voice a low, gravelly whisper against her cheek. "let's see if we can make you lose that bold little attitude completely."
slowly, deliberately, he shifted his hand down. he didn't give her what she was begging for; instead, he eased a single finger inside her.
the sensation was sudden and overwhelming, a tight, burning wave of friction that made her breath catch sharply in her throat. she let out a loud, breathless gasp, her toes curling into the sheets as she felt the solid, warm intrusion. it was entirely new, a deep and pulsing feeling that filled her just enough to make the ache for more absolutely unbearable.
"michael..." she whined, her head tossing back against the pillow as her hips instinctively hitched upward, trying to pull him deeper.
"hush, sweetheart," he coaxed, letting out a soft, satisfied hum at her reaction.
he kept his movement agonizingly slow, curling his finger slightly inside her in a lazy, rhythmic motion that seemed to target every single nerve ending. he watched her face closely, admiring the way her eyes clouded over with pure pleasure and how her lips parted, desperate for air. he was completely taking his time, using that single finger to tease her, mapping out her warmth and stretching the tension until the room felt like it was about to burst from the sheer heat between them.
the agonizingly slow rhythm was driving her completely over the edge. the single finger moving inside her with such lazy, deliberate precision was creating a tight, coiling friction that made her entire body tremble. the initial confidence she had shown earlier had melted into a desperate, beautiful vulnerability, and she couldn't hold back anymore.
"michael... please," she gasped, her voice cracking as she threw her head back against the pillow. her hands moved from his shoulders to his wrists, her fingers tightening around them as if she could pull him closer by force. "i can't... please don't make me wait anymore. i need you."
michael stopped his movement for a heartbeat, hovering just over her. a low, heavy groan escaped his throat at the sound of her begging, his composure finally showing signs of cracking under the weight of her pleas. but he still didn't give in completely; instead, he leaned down until his lips were brushing the shell of her ear, his breath hot and ragged.
"need me to do what, sweetheart?" he murmured, his voice dropping into a deep, raspy whisper that sent a fresh wave of electricity down her spine. "tell me exactly what you want."
"you," she sobbed out softly, her hips moving instinctively against his hand, chasing the contact that was driving her crazy. "i want you inside me. please, michael, i'm begging you... stop teasing me."
hearing her speak those words so desperately, without a shred of her usual bashfulness, sent a visible jolt through him. his chest rose and fell in heavy, shallow bursts, and the playful glint in his dark eyes vanished entirely, replaced by a dark, consuming heat. he slowly withdrew his finger, making her let out a whimper of protest, before he shifted his weight to settle firmly between her thighs, his bare skin pressing flat against hers as he prepared to finally give her exactly what she was crying out for.
michael shifted his weight, his bare skin pressing flat against hers as he positioned himself at her entry. the playfulness was completely gone now, replaced by a deep, protective reverence. he knew how much trust she was placing in him, and he was determined to make this moment as safe and gentle as possible for her first time.
"look at me, sweetheart," he whispered, his voice a low, thick melody as he reached up to frame her face with both hands, his thumbs wiping away the sweat at her temples. "just breathe with me. keep looking at my eyes."
slowly, with an excruciatingly gentle care, he began to push forward.
the initial entry was tight and intense, a sharp wave of brand-new friction that made her stretch beneath him, her eyes widening as her fingers dug deep into the muscles of his shoulders. she let out a tight, breathless gasp, her body tensing instinctively at the unfamiliar sensation of being filled.
the moment he felt her tense, michael stopped instantly. he didn't move an inch further, anchoring his weight on his elbows so he wouldn't crush her. his breath was coming in short, ragged hitches, his own muscles trembling from the sheer effort of holding back, but his focus remained entirely on her.
"i'm sorry, i know... just breathe, love," he murmured against her lips, pressing a succession of soft, feather-light kisses to her mouth, her cheeks, and her forehead to distract her from the sting. "i'm staying right here. i won't move until you tell me to."
he waited patiently in the quiet room, letting her body adjust to his presence. he kept his dark eyes locked onto hers, searching her expression for any sign of real distress, his hands smoothing down her arms in a soothing, grounding rhythm.
"how does it feel?" he whispered, his voice dripping with anxiety and tenderness. "are you okay? do you want me to stop?"
she took a long, trembling breath, her eyes locked onto his dark, worried gaze. the initial sharpness began to dull, melting into a heavy, deep warmth that radiated through her entire body as she adjusted to him. the feeling of being completely filled by him, of having him so close, replaced any lingering discomfort with a wave of profound relief and affection.
"no... don't stop," she whispered, her voice still a bit breathless but steadying. a soft, genuine smile tugged at the corners of her lips. "i'm okay, michael. it feels... amazing. please don't stop."
hearing her words, a look of immense relief washed over his face, followed by a surge of dark, tender heat. "you're doing so well," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion as he leaned down to press a deep, lingering kiss to her lips.
slowly, with the utmost caution, he began to move. his first few thrusts were incredibly slow and shallow, a gentle testing of the waters to ensure she remained comfortable. he kept his hands firmly planted on either side of her head, his eyes never leaving hers, reading every twitch of her brow and every change in her breathing.
as the rhythm established itself, the pace naturally began to deepen. the gentleness of his approach allowed her confidence to flood right back in. she began to find her own rhythm within his, her hips tilting up to meet him, her hands sliding down his back to grip the tight muscles of his waist, pulling him closer. the slow, steady friction was building that tight, coiling fire in her belly all over again, and the quiet room was soon filled with the soft, rhythmic sound of their skin meeting and the quickening pace of their shared breath.
the rhythm between them grew seamless, the initial hesitation completely dissolving into a shared, intoxicating heat. every slow, deep movement became a language of its own, a perfect synchronization of their bodies that left them both entirely breathless.
michael let out a low, gravelly groan against her neck, his restraint finally snapping as he felt the way she was welcoming him, her body completely adapting to his presence. the tenderness was still there, but it was now laced with a raw, undeniable passion. his thrusts became deeper, more confident, driven by the intense pleasure that was clearly washing over him. his skin was slick with sweat, glowing under the moonlight as he pushed them both closer to the edge.
she was completely lost in the sensation, her head tossing back against the pillow as a soft, continuous stream of whimpers escaped her lips. it felt better than anything she could have ever imagined—a deep, heavy ache that was being answered perfectly by every shift of his weight. the confidence she had felt earlier returned in full force; she arched her back to meet him, her legs wrapping tightly around his hips to pull him even deeper, desperate to feel every single ounce of him.
"you feel so good," michael rasped, his voice thick and completely undone. he buried his face in her hair, his chest heaving against hers as the friction built into a roaring fire. "sweetheart... i can't get enough of you."
they were both caught in the exact same storm, riding the wave of a shared crescendo that filled the quiet bedroom with the frantic sound of their breathing and the undeniable rhythm of their love. nothing else existed outside the perimeter of the bed—just the overwhelming warmth, the friction of their skin, and the pure, unadulterated bliss of losing themselves in each other completely.
the heat in her belly was mounting to a fever pitch, blurring the edges of her conscious thought until only pure, instinctual desire remained. through the hazy rush of pleasure, a sudden, thrilling idea took root in her mind. she didn’t want to just be carried away by his rhythm anymore; the overwhelming sensation of discovering this whole new world had unlocked a bold, untouchable confidence inside her. she wanted to see him from above, to feel the power of guiding the friction herself.
before michael could register the sudden shift in her energy, she placed her palms flat against his gleaming, muscular chest and gave a firm, decisive push.
michael let out a sharp, breathless gasp of surprise as his balance broke. he tumbled backward onto the pillows, his dark curls spilling messy across the sheets, his eyes widening in utter astonishment.
taking advantage of his shock, she moved with a fluid, natural grace that surprised them both. she slid her knees up on either side of his hips, straddling him completely and settling her weight over his lap. the sudden change in position altered the angle of their connection entirely, sending a sharp, deep jolt of electricity straight to her core that made her arch her back and let out a shaky, desperate moan.
"oh..." michael rasped, his voice dropping an octave into a completely undone, gravelly register. his hands flew instinctively to her waist, his large fingers gripping her hips tightly to steady her, though he didn't try to take back control.
she looked down at him, her chest heaving, her hair falling like a dark silk curtain around her flushed face. looking at him from this vantage point—seeing the legendary michael jackson completely flat on his back beneath her, his chest rising and falling in frantic bursts, his jaw tightly clenched, and his dark eyes burning with absolute submission to her whim—sent a rush of adrenaline through her veins that was just as intoxicating as the physical pleasure.
"you... you really are full of surprises tonight, aren't you?" he breathed out, a helpless, smoldering smile tugging at the corner of his lips as his grip on her hips tightened, waiting to see exactly what she was going to do with her newfound power.
"i want to try something," she said, her voice dropping into a low, confident murmur that held none of her usual hesitation. she looked straight into his eyes, her lips curving into a small, daring smile as she shifted her weight slightly on top of him, asserting her position.
michael’s breath hitched completely. hearing that fierce, playful confidence in her voice sent a violent jolt of heat straight through him. he stared up at her, utterly captivated, finding her a thousand times more alluring in this moment than he ever could have imagined. there was something intensely intoxicating about seeing her drop all her shyness, completely owning her desires and taking exactly what she wanted from him.
"is that so?" he rasped, his voice sounding thick, deep, and thoroughly undone.
a low, helpless chuckle vibrated in his throat, but his eyes were dark and burning with an intense appreciation. his large hands slid up from her waist to cup the back of her thighs, his fingers digging in softly as he looked at her like she was the only thing that mattered in the universe. he was completely mesmerized by the sheer power she was radiating right now.
"go ahead then, sweetheart," he murmured, his jaw clenching as he braced himself under her gaze, a smoldering, proud smile playing on his lips. "show me. i'm all yours."
she took a deep, steadying breath, keeping her eyes locked onto his as she slowly began to guide herself down. sitting up on top of him changed the angle completely, making the sensation feel entirely new and incredibly deep. she moved with an agonizingly slow precision, lowering her hips inch by inch, giving her body the time to adjust to the overwhelming fullness of having him beneath her.
a soft, shaky gasp escaped her lips as she felt the intense friction of his warmth stretching her all over again. she paused for a moment, her hands resting flat against his firm chest to stabilize herself, her muscles trembling slightly from the sheer concentration of controlling the pace.
michael didn’t try to rush her or force the movement. he lay perfectly still beneath her, his head sunk back into the pillows, but his body was completely rigid with tension. his fingers dug firmly into the soft skin of her thighs, anchoring her, his knuckles turning white from the immense effort it took to keep himself under control.
"you're doing so good, sweetheart," he rasped out, his jaw clenched so tightly the muscles in his neck stood out. his breathing was short and shallow, his dark eyes fixed on her face with a mixture of intense pride and pure, burning desire. "take your time... just like that."
the sheer confidence of being in charge, combined with the slow, deep heat building up between them, made her feel incredibly powerful. she took another shallow breath and let herself sink just a fraction lower, a dazed, blissful smile breaking through her focused expression as she completely mastered the new position.
once she was fully settled and the initial intensity transformed into a deep, comforting warmth, she began to move. she started with a slow, cautious tilt of her hips, testing the waters and exploring the friction of this brand-new vantage point.
the sensation was immediate and overwhelming. moving on top allowed her to feel every single ridge of his warmth, sending a sharp, intoxicating ripple of pleasure straight to her core. she let out a long, trembling sigh, her head bowing forward as her hair brushed against his chest.
michael let out a low, ragged groan that seemed to come from the very depths of his chest. his eyes, which had been locked onto hers, drifted shut for a fraction of a second as his head sank deeper into the pillow. his hands on her thighs tightened instinctively, his large fingers applying just enough pressure to ground her as she set the pace.
"oh, god," he rasped, his voice thick and completely strained by the effort of remaining still. "just like that... you're doing perfectly, love."
encouraged by his reaction, her confidence flared again. she lifted her hips slightly, starting a slow, rhythmic vertical motion that was agonizingly deliberate. she watched his face closely, completely mesmerized by the effect she was having on him. his jaw was clenched, his breath coming in short, jagged hitches, and a fine sheen of sweat was beginning to glow on his shoulders under the moonlight. she was entirely in control now, and the feeling of his complete surrender beneath her was just as addictive as the slow, building fire between them.
the slow, rhythmic friction she was controlling was driving michael completely out of his mind. his legendary composure fractured entirely, and any remaining attempt to stay passive melted away under the sheer intensity of what he was feeling. he was loving this far too much, his body reacting instinctively to the incredible warmth and the perfect angle of her movements.
"ah... sweetheart," he choked out, his voice dropping into a raw, gravelly moan that he couldn't even try to hold back.
his eyes flew open, dark and completely glazed over with pure, unadulterated pleasure. he stared up at her, his vision blurring slightly as he took in the sight of her moving above him, completely owning her power. the feeling of her tightening around him with every slow rise and fall was sweet torture, sending waves of intense heat straight up his spine.
unable to just lie still anymore, his hands slid up from her thighs to grip her hips with a sudden, firm desperation. he didn't take over the pace—he wanted her to stay in control—but he began to lift his own hips slightly to meet her, deepening the friction and pushing himself up into her warmth with every stroke.
his jaw was completely clenched, the muscles in his neck taut as a fine sheen of sweat coated his bare chest. he let out a short, ragged breath with every movement, completely undone by the rhythm she was setting. he was entirely at her mercy, losing himself completely in the sensation of her body against his, his fingers digging into her skin as he rode the wave of pleasure she was giving him.
she kept going, her movements growing smoother and more confident as she locked into the rhythm. the friction was deepening with every single slide, and the sheer pleasure of it was becoming so intense that it completely caught michael off guard. a wave of genuine shock washed over him; he had never expected it to feel this overwhelming, this raw, or this incredibly good.
"oh my god... ah..." he gasped out, a loud, breathless moan tearing from his throat before he could even think to suppress it.
his head thrashed back against the pillows, his dark curls scattering wildly. he was completely undone, utterly defenseless against the pace she was setting. every time she rose and sank back down, a fresh, involuntary whimper or a deep, gravelly groan escaped his parted lips, filling the quiet, moonlit room with the continuous sound of his surrender.
his eyes were wide and clouded with a dazed, completely shocked expression, staring up at her as if he couldn't quite comprehend how she was making him feel this much. his hands remained locked onto her hips, his fingers digging into her skin with a frantic, desperate grip, but he couldn't even manage to lift himself to meet her anymore; he was completely paralyzed by the sheer sensation, entirely at the mercy of her rhythm while his chest heaved in rapid, shallow bursts.
she was completely swept away by the exact same storm. looking down at him and hearing those deep, breathless moans tear from his throat sent a thrilling surge of pleasure straight through her, magnifying everything she was feeling a hundred times over. she was absolutely loving it, the intense, heavy warmth spreading from her core until her entire body felt alive and tingly.
"michael... ah..." she whimpered, her voice cracking as she threw her head back, her hair flying over her shoulders.
the feeling of having him completely inside her, combined with the absolute freedom of setting her own pace, was more intoxicating than anything she could have ever dreamed of. she arching her back, her muscles tightening around him instinctively with every slow, deliberate slide. it felt so good that a dizzying sensation washed over her, making her eyes flutter shut as she surrendered entirely to the rhythm.
her hands moved down his chest, her fingers digging into his slick, warm skin just to find some kind of leverage as the friction built into a roaring fire. she was completely lost in the sensation, her breath coming in short, ragged pants that matched his own, both of them completely caught up in the pure, unadulterated bliss of the moment.
the heat between them was reaching a dangerous, undeniable peak. michael could feel the familiar, coiling tension tightening deep in his belly, a sharp, electric rush warning him that he was starting to approach his limit much faster than he had anticipated.
"sweetheart... wait, ah..." he gasped out, his voice dropping into a desperate, gravelly rasp as his eyes flew open, completely wide and dark with a mix of shock and pure ecstasy.
he was taking an unbelievable amount of pleasure from this, completely overwhelmed by how incredible she was doing. the way she was holding her ground, maintaining that perfect, agonizingly deep rhythm without a single trace of her usual shyness, was driving him absolutely insane. she was handling him so perfectly, adapting to his body with a natural, fierce confidence that made every single friction feel completely magnified, pulling him closer and closer to the edge with every slide of her hips.
his hands on her waist turned frantic, his large fingers digging deep into her skin as his hips gave a small, involuntary jerk upward, completely helpless against the intense warmth wrapping around him. his chest was heaving, his jaw clenched so tightly it ached, while a continuous, broken stream of low groans escaped his lips, completely undone by the fact that she was assuring everything so perfectly, leaving him entirely at her mercy.
the tension was completely snapping now. michael could feel himself teetering right on the very edge, the coiling heat in his belly turning into a blinding, electric rush that he couldn't hold back for a single second longer. he truly felt that he was about to finish, and the sheer, overwhelming realization of it completely broke what little control he had left.
"oh god... ah, no... i can't—" he choked out, his voice completely fracturing into a loud, desperate moan that echoed through the quiet room.
his head thrashed violently against the pillow, his eyes tightly shut as his jaw clenched in pure, agonizing ecstasy. he couldn't stop the continuous stream of deep, gravelly groans and breathless whimpers from tearing out of his chest with every single move she made. the friction of her hips against him was far too perfect, far too intense, and every slide felt like a wave of pure fire rushing straight up his spine.
his hands on her waist grew entirely frantic, his fingers digging in with a desperate, white-knuckled grip as his body trembled beneath her. he was completely at her mercy, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps, his entire being utterly undone by how incredible she felt and how beautifully she was commanding the rhythm that was about to push him over the brink.
the final friction broke through the last of his restraint, and michael completely snapped. the blinding, electric rush coiled deep in his belly finally erupted, pushing him right over the edge into a sudden, shattering finish.
"ah... *oh god*... !"
a loud, raw cry tore from his throat, completely uninhibited and echoed into the quiet room. his hips gave a sharp, involuntary arch upward, burying himself as deeply as possible inside her warmth as his entire body went completely rigid beneath her.
the sensation that washed over him was something he had absolutely never felt before in his entire life. it wasn't just a release; it was a profound, deeply intense wave of pure ecstasy that felt almost spiritual, a complete shattering of his mind and body that left him totally breathless. as the intense, pulsing waves of pleasure washed through him, a look of genuine, profound shock crossed his features. his eyes flew open, completely wide and dazed, staring up at her in utter astonishment as if he couldn't comprehend how a human being could possibly experience something so intensely beautiful.
he couldn't move an inch, paralyzed by the sheer power of it. a continuous, trembling stream of breathy moans and broken whispers escaped his parted lips while his chest heaved in frantic, shallow gasps. his hands, still locked tightly on her hips, were shaking violently, his fingers clinging to her as his head sank back into the pillow, completely undone, overwhelmed, and forever changed by what she had just given him.
the sudden, intense reaction of michael’s body beneath her—the way he completely unraveled and buried himself so deeply inside her—sent a violent jolt of electricity straight to her own core. seeing him that undone, combined with the pulsing warmth that now filled her entirely, pushed her right over the very edge.
"michael... oh!"
she let out a loud, breathless gasp, her voice completely cracking as her own finish hit her like a sudden, beautiful wave. her eyes flew open for a split second, clouded with pure, dazed wonder, before her eyelids fluttered shut and her head fell forward against his neck.
the sensation was overwhelming, a deep, radiating fire that started at her core and rushed through every single nerve ending in her body. her muscles tightened around him in a series of intense, involuntary pulses, matching the rhythm of his own release. she completely lost all control over her body, her hips trembling violently as she sunk fully down against him, unable to move another inch.
she melted completely over his chest, her heart hammering wildly against his ribs. a continuous, soft stream of shaky whimpers and shallow pants escaped her lips, her breath hot against his skin as the intense waves of pleasure slowly began to settle into a deep, comforting warmth. they lay there completely locked together, tangled in the sheets and the moonlight, both of them utterly breathless and trembling from the shared intensity of a moment that neither of them would ever forget.
a low, breathless sound started deep in his chest, vibrating against her where she lay melted over him. before she could even look up to see what it was, the sound broke into a soft, helpless laugh. it wasn’t a mock, but a laugh of pure, unadulterated shock and disbelief.
"oh my god," michael breathlessly chuckled, his head shaking back and forth against the pillow as his shoulders trembled beneath her.
he wrapped his large arms completely around her waist, pulling her even closer against his heaving chest, his forehead coming to rest against her shoulder as the soft laughter continued to escape him. he was just so utterly stunned by what had just happened, his mind still spinning from the sheer intensity of it.
"i can't believe... i mean, sweetheart," he rasped out, his voice a mix of awe and a slight, playful embarrassment as he looked up at her, his dark eyes wide and shining in the moonlight. "you completely took down all my defenses. you handled that like you've been doing it your whole life."
he let out another soft laugh, a beautiful, genuine smile spreading across his flushed face, though his cheeks darkened slightly with a soft blush.
"i mean, look at me... i completely lost it," he whispered, a bit sheepishly, tracing the line of her spine with his fingers. "i was supposed to be the gentle, experienced one, and i ended up finishing so pathetically quickly because of how amazing you were. you completely broke me, love."
she shifted slightly on her elbows, her hair falling around them like a curtain, and looked down into his eyes with a tiny hint of that familiar shyness creeping back in.
"did i... did i really do okay?" she asked, her voice soft and a little hesitant after all the boldness she had just shown.
michael’s smile softened instantly, the playful teasing melting away to leave nothing but pure, infinite tenderness. he brought his hands up to frame her face, his thumbs gently brushing over her cheeks, which were still warm and flushed from the effort.
"did you do okay?" he repeated in a breath, looking up at her as if she were the most incredible thing he had ever seen. "sweetheart, you were absolutely amazing. you completely took my breath away."
he leaned up to press a tender, lingering kiss to her lips, taking his time to make sure she felt every ounce of the gratitude and love washing over him. when he pulled back just an inch, his dark eyes grew a little more serious, filled with a deep, protective care.
"but you know, that’s not even the most important part for me," he murmured, gently tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "the only thing that truly matters is that you had fun. i just want to know how you feel. do you feel okay, love? are you happy?"
"yes," she whispered, a bright, genuine smile breaking across her face as she leaned down to rest her forehead against his. "i feel amazing, michael. it was... perfect."
hearing her words, the last bit of tension completely melted from his body. he let out a soft, contented sigh and wrapped his long arms securely around her back, pulling her down fully against his chest for a deep, enveloping hug. he buried his face in her hair, holding her so tightly and warmly, just enjoying the quiet, rhythmic beat of her heart against his own.
they stayed like that for a long, peaceful moment under the moonlight, his large hands gently stroking up and down her back in a soothing pattern.
but then, that familiar, playful spark crept back into his eyes. he shifted slightly, loosening his grip just enough to look up at her, a beautiful, teasing smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.
"well," he murmured, his voice dropping into a low, smoldering purr as he nipped affectionately at her earlobe, "since you did so incredibly well tonight... i have to say, i really hope i get to see this confident, adventurous side of you much more often."
████████
who wants to see more pathetic michael ??? ME BITCH 😈😈😈😈😈😈😈😈
warnings/contents: michael jackson x secretary/personal assistant!fem reader, obsession, kind of toxic, stalking, jealousy, michael making you and your boyfriend break up, age gap (reader is in her late 20s to early thirties) cocky michael, softdom!michael, pet names, smut, p in v, fingering, reader is a squirter, overstimulation, dacryphilia, breeding kink (if you squint), not proofread, ect ect
word count: 2.5k+ (i think)
w/a: this was requested by @fleurjasminsblog a couple days ago, now i’m writing it teehee, i hope you guys enjoy with one,
working for michael was exhausting. not because of the workload or the endless phone calls, the schedules, the interviews, the rearsals, or the chaos that naturally came with being the personal secretary to the most famous man on earth. it was exhausting because michael was obsessed with you, deeply obsessed. you weren’t entirely sure he even realized how obvious he was being anymore.
“can you come upstairs for a second?” you looked up from your desk with a sigh, gripping the office phone between your shoulder and cheek. “michael, i was just up there five minutes ago.” “i know.” “then what do you need now?” nothing was said in the other line for a long time, michael choosing his choice of words carefully. “i forgot.” you blinked slowly. “michael.” “just come up here real quick.” “you are a grown man.” “and yet I still need you.” your face warmed instantly, almost forgetting he was your boss. “that was smooth,” you muttered. he chuckled, you can hear the smirk in his voice. you hung up, getting ready for michael to make up some bullshit excuse about why he called you up to his quarters.
the hallways of neverland were quiet tonight, soft golden lampost glowing against the windows as you made your way toward wherever he was upstairs. you already knew this was going to be something ridiculous, it always was. the second you walked into his room, michael looked up from the couch, instantly smiling. he looked at you like you were the best part of his day, giving you instant butterflies.“ you called me up here for what exactly?” you asked, crossing your arms. michael glanced around dramatically before pointing toward the tv remote sitting beside him. “are you serious?” “it fell.” “it’s literally next to your leg.” “i didn’t wanna get it.” you stared at him annoyingly.“you’re so unbelievable.” “but you came anyway.” his grin was devastating. at forty-something years old, michael flirted like a teenager with his first crush with constant compliments, lingering touches, excuses to keep you near him for hours longer than necessary, and sometimes he’d even ask you to sit beside him while he worked because, according to him, “the room feels weird when you’re not in it.” and the staring, dear god, the staring. you’d catch him watching you constantly. at meetings, in the studio and during dinner breaks. his dark eyes would follow you around the room so intensely it made your stomach twist. not in a creepy way exactly, just so overwhelming. like he adored you too much.
“you busy tonight?” michael asked casually. “yeah,” you answered, grabbing the remote and tossing it into his lap. “i’m having dinner with my boyfriend.” the shift in his expression was immediate, his smile faltering for less than a second. “oh,” he said quietly. “you okay?” “mhm.” but he looked away too quickly. michael hated your boyfriend. his hatred pooling inside burner accounts and fake usernames at two in the morning. because michael stalked your social media, almost religiously. he hid behind a harmless looking fan account with blurry concert photos and moon emojis. you followed it back months ago because the comments were always sweet. what you didn’t know was that michael himself spent hours scrolling through your posts under that account, reading every caption, watching every story you posted, zooming into your smile in photos and saving pictures and liked. pathetic behavior for a global superstar, but he couldn’t help himself. he wanted every piece of you he could get.
then he saw him, your boyfriend. the picture nearly made michael sick. your boyfriend stood behind you in the photo, arms wrapped around your waist while you smiled brightly at the camera.
“mine 🤍”
that caption alone ruined michaels entire night. he stared at the image until jealousy twisted sharp and ugly inside his chest. and suddenly, every time you mentioned your boyfriend at work, it felt unbearable. michael wanted to rip the word boyfriend out of your vocabulary entirely. “you deserve better,” he muttered one afternoon while you organized his paperwork. you glanced up. “better than what?” “him.” you laughed softly. “you don’t even know him.” “i know enough.” “you’re being dramatic.”michael leaned back in his chair, watching you carefully. “am I?” the way he said it seemed like he knew that you already knew the answer, it made heat creep up your neck. your boyfriend was a dick a times, always missing dates, staying out late, and overall just being a bad boyfriend. michael knew he needed to get rid of him, and fast.
the breakup didn’t happen immediately, michael planned it carefully. first came the anonymous messages. fake screenshots sent to your boyfriend suggesting you were getting too close to michael. then pictures of you and michael leaving the studio together late at night and anonymous emails implying michael had feelings for you. your boyfriend grew insecure quickly. “you spend more time with him than me,” he snapped one evening over the phone. “he’s my boss,” you argued. “he wants you.” you laughed nervously. “michael flirts with everybody.” but even as you said it, you realized that wasn’t entirely true. michael treated you differently and everyone noticed it. your boyfriend had become increasingly irritated about it. especially after michael started calling you at ridiculous hours for unnecessary reasons. “can you help me pick between these jackets?” “at midnight?” “they both look nice and i need your opinion.” “michael…” “please?” you went every time.
the actual breakup happened on a rainy thursday night. you were halfway through dinner with your boyfriend when his expression suddenly hardened. “what?” you asked anxiously. he tossed his phone onto the table. your stomach dropped, itwas another anonymous message. this time worse. a blurry photo of michael holding your hand while leading you through an airport. “i’m done.” your boyfriend exclaimed. “what?!” “you’re emotionally involved with him and you don’t even realize it.” “that’s not true!” “really?” he snapped. “because everyone can vouch for me and you know it.” your chest tightened. “he’s my friend.” “he’s obsessed with you.” the words hit harder than they should’ve. “he’s manipulative,” your boyfriend continued bitterly. “and to be frank, i think you like the attention.” tears climbed into your eyes immediately. “that’s unfair.” “no,” he said quietly. “what’s unfair is feeling like I’ve been competing with michael for months.” he got up and walked out of the restaurant, leaving you there alone. and just like that it ended.
you cried the entire drive to neverland, of course you went to michael, who else would you go to? he answered the door himself wearing gray sweatpants and a loose black shirt, with his hair down and reading glasses. the second he saw your tear streaked face, his expression dropped. “oh baby…” his voice softened instantly. that was your breaking point. you burst into tears. michael pulled you into his arms immediately without hesitation, holding you tightly against his chest while you cried. “hey, hey…” he murmured gently, rubbing your back. “what happened?” “he broke up with me,” you whispered in broken gasp. michaels jaw tightened slightly, but his voice remaining soft.“come inside.” he guided you carefully to the couch, wrapping a blanket around your shoulders before disappearing briefly into the kitchen. when he returned, he handed you tea exactly the way you liked it
you stared at the cup, “how did you know?” “you mention things,” he said quietly. but really, he knew because he paid attention to everything about you. you sat there trembling while Michael stayed close beside you, his hand resting gently against your knee. “he said you were obsessed with me,” you admitted weakly. michael went very still. “and what did you say?” “that he was wrong.” a strange look crossed michaels face, something between guilt and longing. “he wasn’t completely wrong,” michael stated. your breath caught. “what?” his thumb brushed lightly over your knee. “i care about you too much,” he said quietly. “probably more than i should.” the room suddenly felt smaller. your heart pounded as you looked at him, michaels eyes were already on you.
“you’re the first person I wanna see every morning,” he confessed. “i look for excuses to keep you around because i hate when you leave.” your pulse quickened. “michael…” “i know it’s crazy.” his voice dropped softer. “but I think about you all the time.” the honesty in his expression made your chest ache. you’d never seen him look so nervous before. “you make me happy,” he whispered. “and I know this is probably the worst possible time to admit that.” you should’ve stopped him, should’ve stood up and walked away. but instead you whispered, “i think about you too.” michael inhaled sharply. his eyes flickered down to your lips instantly. the tension between you snapped tight. “tell me to stop,” he murmured. but he was already leaning closer , giving you time to pull away. you didn’t.
his hand rose gently to your cheek, warm and trembling slightly against your skin. then finally michael kissed you. the second your lips moved against his, he made the quietest sound in the back of his throat, something relieved and aching all at once. after a few seconds, the kiss deepened. years of hidden affection pouring out all at once. his hand slid into your hair carefully while the other stayed against your waist, holding you like something precious, you melted against him instantly. he’d imagined this moment a thousand times before it actually happened. when he finally pulled back, both of you were breathless. his forehead rested lightly against your, glasses slightly falling foward. “you have no idea how long i’ve wanted to do that,” he whispered. “michael, i.. i need you.” you blurted out, not aware of what your actually telling michael. his eyes widened, never thinking you would be that bold. “are you sure?” he asked, making sure you know what your getting into. “yes, please michael.” he smirked, getting up from the couch and suddenly carrying you bridal style, making your pussy clench around nothing.
your panties, bottoms and top are discarded somewhere across his bedroom floor. you don’t recall exactly how you got here, just michael working you like nothing you’ve ever felt before. michael is on top of you, playing with your cunt like it’s a work of art. he slides his index and middle finger in and out, slightly curling his fingers against your sweet spot. his fingers feel exquisite, stretching you out perfectly. “fuck michael…” you moan out, back arching off the bed. “you’re so tight, i wonder how my dick will feel inside you, hmm?” he nibbles on your ear. he looks so hot under the dim lighting, making you so close to climax. “michael… im so close..” you admit, feeling the familiar warm sensation in your stomach. he pulls out his fingers, and you whine at the lost of contact. “i’m sorry baby, i want you to cum around my cock.. okay?” despite him ruining your orgasm, you nod silently. “i want you to do something for me sweet girl, come at the end of the bed and flip over,” he orders, and you follow exactly that. now you’re laying on your stomach, awaiting what he has planned.
“prop your ass up for me baby,” heeding his command, now your ass is against his crotch. he groans at the sensation of your leaking pussy against his boxers. he pulls down his underwear, his rock hard cock flinging out. “see what you do to me? i’ve been thinking about this since ive first met you. you can’t imagine how bad the pain was, me knowing that your disgusting ex boyfriend got this every night drove me crazy.” he says, now stroking his cock, biting his lip at the sight of your aching pussy. “michael, please..” “please what baby?” “please fuck me..” you beg, you can’t take this prolonged teasing anymore. “okay baby, but look up for me.” you look up, now that you are not shying away, you spot the large mirror on the wall infront of you. “you have to look at this mirror the entire time, if you don’t i just might just have to stop, do you want me to stop?” “no! no michael please i’ll look at the mirror just put it in.” he chuckles at how desperate you are for him. he pumps his cock one last time before pushing his tip in. “ouhhh fucuckkkk…” you roll your eyes back, the initial stretch is painful, tears start swelling up in your eyes again.
“i-i know baby i know, it’s gonna feel good soon okay? i promise.” he pushes inside you by a couple inches, still not all the way inside. fuck how big was he? “m-michael i don’t know if i can take it,” you cry out, it’s painful, but it also feels so good. “you can take it my love, you can do anything.” then he slides all the way in. your walls grip him like an intruder, but also welcoming him in at the same time. seeing the tears streaming from your glassy eyes makes him moan quietly, he never would’ve thought you would be crying all up on his cock like this. you stare in the mirror, you feel so dirty, this is still your boss after all. yes you and your boyfriend had sex, but it never felt like this, you probably look like a dumb fucked out virgin to michael. “you feel so good, shit…” he gropes your ass gently with one hand and holds your hips with the other. “can i move now sweetheart?” “y-yes…” you struggle to get the word out of your throat.
he starts to thrust inside you, dragging up and down your walls. the sound of skin on skin contact fills the room. you whimper and moan subconsciously, stuck in your own world. one particular thrust hits your cervix perfectly, making your climax sneak up on you out of nowhere. “OUHHHGG, michael!!” you squirt all over the bed sheets. “oh shit baby, i didn’t know you could do that, fuckk” he groans out, now plowing into you. you take a peep into the mirror again, seeing how he’s absolutely ruining you right now. how could your soft spoken, never raised his voice, kind and sweet boss make such a mess out of you? with him still pumping his cock deep inside of you after came, you start to feel overstimulated. you grip the bed sheets around you, looking for anything to draw your attention to elsewhere. michael notices this and brings both of your hands behind your back. “you want me to cum inside you? huh baby?” he ask condescendingly, “YES, yes michael, fill me up with your babies please, dear god. i think i’m gonna-” you squirt all over again, drenching the sheets even more then you did the first time. he follows suit, taking one last deep thrust before he releases inside of you. “ohhh… god..” he exhales out falling on top of you. you both are trying to catch your breath, still trying to come down from your highs. he takes a hand and cups your jaw, directing you to the mirror once again, “you see how good we make each other feel, i think we’re meant to be? tell me if i’m wrong.” “no no michael, i’m yours, fuck… i’m all yours, we’re meant to be.”
w/a: omg this was so hot thank you anon for the request, this weekend i have days off so yk what that means…
warnings/contents: michael jackson x secretary/personal assistant!fem reader, obsession, kind of toxic, stalking, jealousy, michael making you and your boyfriend break up, age gap (reader is in her late 20s to early thirties) cocky michael, softdom!michael, pet names, smut, p in v, fingering, reader is a squirter, overstimulation, dacryphilia, breeding kink (if you squint), not proofread, ect ect
word count: 2.5k+ (i think)
w/a: this was requested by @fleurjasminsblog a couple days ago, now i’m writing it teehee, i hope you guys enjoy with one,
working for michael was exhausting. not because of the workload or the endless phone calls, the schedules, the interviews, the rearsals, or the chaos that naturally came with being the personal secretary to the most famous man on earth. it was exhausting because michael was obsessed with you, deeply obsessed. you weren’t entirely sure he even realized how obvious he was being anymore.
“can you come upstairs for a second?” you looked up from your desk with a sigh, gripping the office phone between your shoulder and cheek. “michael, i was just up there five minutes ago.” “i know.” “then what do you need now?” nothing was said in the other line for a long time, michael choosing his choice of words carefully. “i forgot.” you blinked slowly. “michael.” “just come up here real quick.” “you are a grown man.” “and yet I still need you.” your face warmed instantly, almost forgetting he was your boss. “that was smooth,” you muttered. he chuckled, you can hear the smirk in his voice. you hung up, getting ready for michael to make up some bullshit excuse about why he called you up to his quarters.
the hallways of neverland were quiet tonight, soft golden lampost glowing against the windows as you made your way toward wherever he was upstairs. you already knew this was going to be something ridiculous, it always was. the second you walked into his room, michael looked up from the couch, instantly smiling. he looked at you like you were the best part of his day, giving you instant butterflies.“ you called me up here for what exactly?” you asked, crossing your arms. michael glanced around dramatically before pointing toward the tv remote sitting beside him. “are you serious?” “it fell.” “it’s literally next to your leg.” “i didn’t wanna get it.” you stared at him annoyingly.“you’re so unbelievable.” “but you came anyway.” his grin was devastating. at forty-something years old, michael flirted like a teenager with his first crush with constant compliments, lingering touches, excuses to keep you near him for hours longer than necessary, and sometimes he’d even ask you to sit beside him while he worked because, according to him, “the room feels weird when you’re not in it.” and the staring, dear god, the staring. you’d catch him watching you constantly. at meetings, in the studio and during dinner breaks. his dark eyes would follow you around the room so intensely it made your stomach twist. not in a creepy way exactly, just so overwhelming. like he adored you too much.
“you busy tonight?” michael asked casually. “yeah,” you answered, grabbing the remote and tossing it into his lap. “i’m having dinner with my boyfriend.” the shift in his expression was immediate, his smile faltering for less than a second. “oh,” he said quietly. “you okay?” “mhm.” but he looked away too quickly. michael hated your boyfriend. his hatred pooling inside burner accounts and fake usernames at two in the morning. because michael stalked your social media, almost religiously. he hid behind a harmless looking fan account with blurry concert photos and moon emojis. you followed it back months ago because the comments were always sweet. what you didn’t know was that michael himself spent hours scrolling through your posts under that account, reading every caption, watching every story you posted, zooming into your smile in photos and saving pictures and liked. pathetic behavior for a global superstar, but he couldn’t help himself. he wanted every piece of you he could get.
then he saw him, your boyfriend. the picture nearly made michael sick. your boyfriend stood behind you in the photo, arms wrapped around your waist while you smiled brightly at the camera.
“mine 🤍”
that caption alone ruined michaels entire night. he stared at the image until jealousy twisted sharp and ugly inside his chest. and suddenly, every time you mentioned your boyfriend at work, it felt unbearable. michael wanted to rip the word boyfriend out of your vocabulary entirely. “you deserve better,” he muttered one afternoon while you organized his paperwork. you glanced up. “better than what?” “him.” you laughed softly. “you don’t even know him.” “i know enough.” “you’re being dramatic.”michael leaned back in his chair, watching you carefully. “am I?” the way he said it seemed like he knew that you already knew the answer, it made heat creep up your neck. your boyfriend was a dick a times, always missing dates, staying out late, and overall just being a bad boyfriend. michael knew he needed to get rid of him, and fast.
the breakup didn’t happen immediately, michael planned it carefully. first came the anonymous messages. fake screenshots sent to your boyfriend suggesting you were getting too close to michael. then pictures of you and michael leaving the studio together late at night and anonymous emails implying michael had feelings for you. your boyfriend grew insecure quickly. “you spend more time with him than me,” he snapped one evening over the phone. “he’s my boss,” you argued. “he wants you.” you laughed nervously. “michael flirts with everybody.” but even as you said it, you realized that wasn’t entirely true. michael treated you differently and everyone noticed it. your boyfriend had become increasingly irritated about it. especially after michael started calling you at ridiculous hours for unnecessary reasons. “can you help me pick between these jackets?” “at midnight?” “they both look nice and i need your opinion.” “michael…” “please?” you went every time.
the actual breakup happened on a rainy thursday night. you were halfway through dinner with your boyfriend when his expression suddenly hardened. “what?” you asked anxiously. he tossed his phone onto the table. your stomach dropped, itwas another anonymous message. this time worse. a blurry photo of michael holding your hand while leading you through an airport. “i’m done.” your boyfriend exclaimed. “what?!” “you’re emotionally involved with him and you don’t even realize it.” “that’s not true!” “really?” he snapped. “because everyone can vouch for me and you know it.” your chest tightened. “he’s my friend.” “he’s obsessed with you.” the words hit harder than they should’ve. “he’s manipulative,” your boyfriend continued bitterly. “and to be frank, i think you like the attention.” tears climbed into your eyes immediately. “that’s unfair.” “no,” he said quietly. “what’s unfair is feeling like I’ve been competing with michael for months.” he got up and walked out of the restaurant, leaving you there alone. and just like that it ended.
you cried the entire drive to neverland, of course you went to michael, who else would you go to? he answered the door himself wearing gray sweatpants and a loose black shirt, with his hair down and reading glasses. the second he saw your tear streaked face, his expression dropped. “oh baby…” his voice softened instantly. that was your breaking point. you burst into tears. michael pulled you into his arms immediately without hesitation, holding you tightly against his chest while you cried. “hey, hey…” he murmured gently, rubbing your back. “what happened?” “he broke up with me,” you whispered in broken gasp. michaels jaw tightened slightly, but his voice remaining soft.“come inside.” he guided you carefully to the couch, wrapping a blanket around your shoulders before disappearing briefly into the kitchen. when he returned, he handed you tea exactly the way you liked it
you stared at the cup, “how did you know?” “you mention things,” he said quietly. but really, he knew because he paid attention to everything about you. you sat there trembling while Michael stayed close beside you, his hand resting gently against your knee. “he said you were obsessed with me,” you admitted weakly. michael went very still. “and what did you say?” “that he was wrong.” a strange look crossed michaels face, something between guilt and longing. “he wasn’t completely wrong,” michael stated. your breath caught. “what?” his thumb brushed lightly over your knee. “i care about you too much,” he said quietly. “probably more than i should.” the room suddenly felt smaller. your heart pounded as you looked at him, michaels eyes were already on you.
“you’re the first person I wanna see every morning,” he confessed. “i look for excuses to keep you around because i hate when you leave.” your pulse quickened. “michael…” “i know it’s crazy.” his voice dropped softer. “but I think about you all the time.” the honesty in his expression made your chest ache. you’d never seen him look so nervous before. “you make me happy,” he whispered. “and I know this is probably the worst possible time to admit that.” you should’ve stopped him, should’ve stood up and walked away. but instead you whispered, “i think about you too.” michael inhaled sharply. his eyes flickered down to your lips instantly. the tension between you snapped tight. “tell me to stop,” he murmured. but he was already leaning closer , giving you time to pull away. you didn’t.
his hand rose gently to your cheek, warm and trembling slightly against your skin. then finally michael kissed you. the second your lips moved against his, he made the quietest sound in the back of his throat, something relieved and aching all at once. after a few seconds, the kiss deepened. years of hidden affection pouring out all at once. his hand slid into your hair carefully while the other stayed against your waist, holding you like something precious, you melted against him instantly. he’d imagined this moment a thousand times before it actually happened. when he finally pulled back, both of you were breathless. his forehead rested lightly against your, glasses slightly falling foward. “you have no idea how long i’ve wanted to do that,” he whispered. “michael, i.. i need you.” you blurted out, not aware of what your actually telling michael. his eyes widened, never thinking you would be that bold. “are you sure?” he asked, making sure you know what your getting into. “yes, please michael.” he smirked, getting up from the couch and suddenly carrying you bridal style, making your pussy clench around nothing.
your panties, bottoms and top are discarded somewhere across his bedroom floor. you don’t recall exactly how you got here, just michael working you like nothing you’ve ever felt before. michael is on top of you, playing with your cunt like it’s a work of art. he slides his index and middle finger in and out, slightly curling his fingers against your sweet spot. his fingers feel exquisite, stretching you out perfectly. “fuck michael…” you moan out, back arching off the bed. “you’re so tight, i wonder how my dick will feel inside you, hmm?” he nibbles on your ear. he looks so hot under the dim lighting, making you so close to climax. “michael… im so close..” you admit, feeling the familiar warm sensation in your stomach. he pulls out his fingers, and you whine at the lost of contact. “i’m sorry baby, i want you to cum around my cock.. okay?” despite him ruining your orgasm, you nod silently. “i want you to do something for me sweet girl, come at the end of the bed and flip over,” he orders, and you follow exactly that. now you’re laying on your stomach, awaiting what he has planned.
“prop your ass up for me baby,” heeding his command, now your ass is against his crotch. he groans at the sensation of your leaking pussy against his boxers. he pulls down his underwear, his rock hard cock flinging out. “see what you do to me? i’ve been thinking about this since ive first met you. you can’t imagine how bad the pain was, me knowing that your disgusting ex boyfriend got this every night drove me crazy.” he says, now stroking his cock, biting his lip at the sight of your aching pussy. “michael, please..” “please what baby?” “please fuck me..” you beg, you can’t take this prolonged teasing anymore. “okay baby, but look up for me.” you look up, now that you are not shying away, you spot the large mirror on the wall infront of you. “you have to look at this mirror the entire time, if you don’t i just might just have to stop, do you want me to stop?” “no! no michael please i’ll look at the mirror just put it in.” he chuckles at how desperate you are for him. he pumps his cock one last time before pushing his tip in. “ouhhh fucuckkkk…” you roll your eyes back, the initial stretch is painful, tears start swelling up in your eyes again.
“i-i know baby i know, it’s gonna feel good soon okay? i promise.” he pushes inside you by a couple inches, still not all the way inside. fuck how big was he? “m-michael i don’t know if i can take it,” you cry out, it’s painful, but it also feels so good. “you can take it my love, you can do anything.” then he slides all the way in. your walls grip him like an intruder, but also welcoming him in at the same time. seeing the tears streaming from your glassy eyes makes him moan quietly, he never would’ve thought you would be crying all up on his cock like this. you stare in the mirror, you feel so dirty, this is still your boss after all. yes you and your boyfriend had sex, but it never felt like this, you probably look like a dumb fucked out virgin to michael. “you feel so good, shit…” he gropes your ass gently with one hand and holds your hips with the other. “can i move now sweetheart?” “y-yes…” you struggle to get the word out of your throat.
he starts to thrust inside you, dragging up and down your walls. the sound of skin on skin contact fills the room. you whimper and moan subconsciously, stuck in your own world. one particular thrust hits your cervix perfectly, making your climax sneak up on you out of nowhere. “OUHHHGG, michael!!” you squirt all over the bed sheets. “oh shit baby, i didn’t know you could do that, fuckk” he groans out, now plowing into you. you take a peep into the mirror again, seeing how he’s absolutely ruining you right now. how could your soft spoken, never raised his voice, kind and sweet boss make such a mess out of you? with him still pumping his cock deep inside of you after came, you start to feel overstimulated. you grip the bed sheets around you, looking for anything to draw your attention to elsewhere. michael notices this and brings both of your hands behind your back. “you want me to cum inside you? huh baby?” he ask condescendingly, “YES, yes michael, fill me up with your babies please, dear god. i think i’m gonna-” you squirt all over again, drenching the sheets even more then you did the first time. he follows suit, taking one last deep thrust before he releases inside of you. “ohhh… god..” he exhales out falling on top of you. you both are trying to catch your breath, still trying to come down from your highs. he takes a hand and cups your jaw, directing you to the mirror once again, “you see how good we make each other feel, i think we’re meant to be? tell me if i’m wrong.” “no no michael, i’m yours, fuck… i’m all yours, we’re meant to be.”
w/a: omg this was so hot thank you anon for the request, this weekend i have days off so yk what that means…
content/warnings: FINGERS FINGERS FINGERS. fingering, fingers in mouth, basically fingers everywhere. nasty smut, ofc. mdni pls and thx u. public sex, kinda. mirror sex if ur into that ;) dom! michael, sub reader. fem anatomy described.
WC: 4k
A/N: his fingers ohemgee.
The first time you found out you were a whore for fingers, specifically Michael’s fingers, was when you first met him.
You reminisce about the moment almost every day. Yes, because it was where you met the love of your life, but because you found out something about yourself you didn’t know you had in you.
┈┈•༶ 1986
You were actually on a double date with one of your friends and were at one of Encino’s current popular nightlife clubs. The large, marbled floor was filled with crowded movement, sweat in the air, pressed tightly against the dancing bodies as the music flowed loudly through the room. You’re swirling the straw in your vodka Sprite rested on the wooden table, head in hand as your coworker’s talking her date’s ear off about some new song she’d be obsessed with.
You feel your date, whose name you keep forgetting, watching you like a hungry businessman ready to take advantage of whatever poor employee’s wiling to work underpaid as long as they have a job. You feel small, almost like he wasn’t interested in getting to know you, just interested in adding another name to his list of women he’s slept with. You look up, giving him a tight smile as you scan your eyes around the room. You had a love for dancing, being blessed with the ability to match the sway of your hips to whatever beat you’re given. The pulchritudinous beat of “Move Your Body” by Marshall Jefferson has your leg instinctively move up and down, betraying you as you rest your hand on it, attempting to calm it down. The last thing you want is for Randall (or Robert, whatever his name is) to think you want to dance with him.
“We’re going to go dance, feel free to join us!” Your coworker unexpectedly yells and uses all her force to get you up and walking towards the floor. You grab your bag with you, clutching it tight against your shoulder as you hurrily drag your feet to follow your coworker’s heeled ones.
She turns to you and gives you a look. “You looked miserable. I had to get you out of there. Is Riley not your type?”
“I thought his name was Roman.”
“Whatever its name is, I thought you two would hit it off. He has a thing for girls like you.” She shrugs, but drops it once she fully turns to you and begins moving her shoulders to the words of the song. You finally break out a genuine smile for the first time that night, following her rhythm as you hold onto her waist, rolling your hips, letting the music reach your soul, directing you to choreograph as you wish.
You were so busy rocking your body to the beat of the song that the pair of eyes on you from across the room went unnoticed on your behalf. Michael, whose eyes lay on you the moment you walked into the club, was seated alone. He had an unopened water bottle in front of him, security disguised as civilians around him as a precaution. He had his shades on, so his appearance hadn’t been announced yet. His thighs are parted, hand rested a bit below his crotch. His fingers tap along the muscle of his thigh to the drums of the song, humming along to the one his brothers were obsessed with recently.
He watched as you walked into the bar, hands crossed against your stomach as your dates found you a table to sit at, walking to the bar and bringing the four of you drinks. He felt a slight pang of disappointment hit his heart as he assumed he was your man, and of course, he wouldn’t publicly hit on a taken girl. However, he studied you. He let his eyes focus on the lines of your smile, spotting no hint of veracity behind it, only boredom. He watched as your eyes avoided looking at the guy next to you, whose body kept “accidentally” touching your shoulder. He let a smile peek onto his face as you scooted away every time. He watched as the girl across from you didn’t notice the details on your facial expression, simply working her way for free drinks. Michael let out a small chuckle as he watched you attempt to stop your body from moving along to the songs as they played throughout the club. He didn’t feel shame as he noticed the curves of your body, and the way he wanted to trace his fingers oh-so-delicately along the softness of your arms, turning your chin to him, running his tongue along the curve of your lips.
Your friend makes a spin, laughter erupting out of her as she continues dancing. Your hands are flowing freely in the air, fingertips dancing with one another as the smile on your face begins to numb your jaw. You don’t care, however, because the music makes you feel free. Roland isn’t on your mind anymore, and you couldn’t care less about going back to him once the song is over. You plan to stay on the floor, spinning and frisking till they have to escort you out. Your eyes take in every detail of the room, memorizing the warm lights on the ceiling, counting the chairs, and even admiring the jewelry on the bodies across from you. Your eyes fall onto one particular person across from you, whose fingers are matching the dancing of your own. You recognize the identity of the man immediately, but instead of freaking out like any other person normally would, you offer him an amorous smile. He gives you a nod, and your eyes fall away, and onto your friend, who’s now pressed up against another man. You shake your head, sweat building up on your collarbone as the tepid intensity reaches you.
Michael, whose fingers are now on his chin, begins to nod his head to the groove of your hips. You look back and lick your lips, aware of the message he’s trying to send you. Any other day, and you would’ve ignored him, but the lyrics of the music become the buzz you’ve been searching for since you entered the club, and so you feel no shame as you turn around, giving him a perfect view of the sensual movement of your hips as you match every beat. Michael appreciates this, moving his hand to his hard-on, as he feels the throb of his tip begin to quicken his heartbeat.
You feel the flush crawl up your neck, and you bring your hand to it, feeling the heat of your hand tickle so slightly. You only had three sips of your drink, and yet you feel the most intoxicated you’ve ever been. It feels right, however, and so this gut-approving feeling encourages you to lower your knees to the floor, nodding along so passively. You smile against your shoulder, eyes locking with Michael’s, whose glasses are now closed next to his drink. You like that he doesn’t have shame in hiding the fact that he appreciates your little show, because in a way, and maybe you’re overreaching, it’s demanding. And of course, how could you ever deny the beautiful man a taste of compliance and sweetness?
Your eyes fall onto how Michael traces his tongue over his pointer finger, and your legs slightly tremble. There’s not one ounce of shame in Michael’s eyes as he dips his head, muscles moving on their own as his wet finger begins slowly tracing an invisible circle in the air. You take the hint, the spin of his finger directing your hips. You feel desire ignite in your pelvis as Michael’s finger doesn’t stop dominating you, every twirl becoming a promise. Your nipples harden as they sway against the fabric of your top, and the jolts bring your core to a leak. Michael’s dark eyes never leave yours, and it takes every intelligent neuron in his brain to stop him from walking across the floor and caressing you right then and there.
Both of you are so deep in your trance that neither of you notices the room has begun to clear out, the crowd growing bored with the demands of the requirement dancing. Your coworker walks up to you, embracing you in a tight hug as she whispers in your ear. “I’m going to call it a night with Mr. Tourist. Stay safe, and call me when you get home, yeah?” You give her a thumbs-up, eyeing the guy who’s a few inches away, waiting. “Also, girl, maybe I’m going crazy, but I’m pretty sure that’s Michael Jackson eye-fucking you across the room.” She shrugs her shoulders, leaving you with a raised brow and a suppressed smirk. You bend down, readjusting the strap of your heel, breath hitching as Michael hovers over you, hands in his pocket. Your eyes instinctively search for his fingers, and he notices this, softly breathing a laugh as he takes his hand out, resting it on top of his chest.
“Your hips carry the gift of being perfectly synced and sensual. Do you dance professionally, girl?” Are the first words he ever spoke to you. You repeated them over and over again, trying to find the courage to answer him. Instead, you shake your head, hand on your bag as you nervously run your fingertips up and down the strap.
“You should. I’ve never seen anyone have that… perfection. It must be appreciated, worshipped, even.”
“Be my guest, then.” You murmur, taking a step closer to him. You smile softly as he nods his head in an approving way and points to the door.
“Walking out that door is a guarantee you won’t ever forget, not for a long time,” Michael responds, a thrilling hint behind his words. You brush off any rules you’ve adapted for yourself, because you tilt your head, nodding, the thick atmosphere prickling on your skin so tempting, it’s an offer you’re glad you never refused.
┈┈•༶ 1987
A night of passion became a year of passion. After that night in the club, Michael encouraged you to join his tour for his upcoming album, Bad. He teased you, whispering the sensuality of his songs into your ears as he traced his fingers across your thigh, robbing you of any pleasure from his fondling. You fell in love first, but Michael fell harder. You were the stimulus that ran constantly in his busy mind. He loved the way your hips grinded against his wet cock, watching you with fire etched onto his eyes as he watched you beg for more.
“Go on, baby. Rub yourself on me like a deprived little animal in heat,” He’d grunt, feeling the wetness of your cunt seep through your underwear. He was a bit nervous at first, unsure whether he was going too far with his commands. But when he noticed that you drenched a tiny bit more when he was more demanding, he had all the confirmation he needed that you loved being bossed around.
Lucky for you and your pussy, because Michael loved to boss those around him. Taking control in every aspect of his life, including in bed, fueled him and reminded him that he was indeed above all.
He loved to probe his hands on you, even if his intentions were innocent. There was something about seeing you so willingly give up all your control to him that excited him. You didn’t question him, ever. You complied with every direct, every command. You didn’t complain when he asked all his dancers to work 7 days a week, ensuring the performances they’d give around the world were perfect. He’d be turned on the moment he saw you dance on stage, hips constantly matching the tempo of his songs. He’d excuse himself, calling a mini-break so he could lock himself into the bathroom, rutting his leaking cock into his hand, eyes closed as he pictured your hips dancing in front of his face, your ass softly grazing across his lips.
You’d keep your eyes on him as he walked back to the stage, apologizing for the sudden break. You’d notice his zipper was partially up, and you’d feel your clit throb as you imagined he’d fuck his hand to pleasure. You weren’t oblivious- you knew the effect you had on him. You felt like her, a woman whose life was stuck in an unhappy love, to now living your dream life with your dream man. It was surreal, how quickly your life altered. But you had no regrets. You had the job of a lifetime, and you got to work with the one you loved the most.
It was another late night, an hour after Michael called it a night. All the dancers packed their bags and greeted you goodnight, exhausted as they walked out of the buildings. You continued practicing in front of the mirror Michael had on stage, working on some small critiques Michael had kindly given you. You appreciated that he didn’t treat you differently or privilege you just because you happened to be his girl; he wanted the best for you, and that meant being honest.
Your hands are swaying in the hair, a song of Michael’s softly humming in the back. You’re stuck on a current move, and your attempts to perfect it have begun to grow tiresome. Your eyes are on yourself through the mirror, eyes studying every decision your body intuitively makes. You’re so focused, you don’t notice Michael walking back onstage, eyes on your body as you move so effortlessly.
He grazes your exposed stomach, lips brushing against your neck. “I like it when you dance for me.”
Your breath stutters, and the song fades into the background as you focus on the beat of your heart. “How am I doing?”
Michael hums, pulling out his taped fingers from his back and onto the softness of your neck, lazily dragging those fingertips that’ve become your favorite part of Michael in a memzorming pattern. “I think my baby needs her rest, doesn’t she?”
Michael looks at you through the mirror, tongue lapping at the beat in your neck. You let out an involuntary moan, goosebumps thrumming from your blood and to the soft shivers your flushed body begins experiencing. Your mouth is open, and your eyes are beginning to close when Michael tuts, teeth softly nipping your skin. “No. I want you to look at me the entire time. You need to see how bad you get for me when you want to get fucked like a desperate girl. Actin’ like you haven’t gotten any cock inside that pussy, when it’s still swollen from this morning, hm.”
His words make your eyes roll back, but the small smack against your ass brings you to your senses. You stand straight, eyes beginning to betray you as you ponder if anyone is left in the building. A pinch on your lip reminds you to behave, so you wet your top lip, thirst becoming overbearing. “I’ll be good, I promise.”
Your whines are becoming almost amusing to Michael; the pleas are so persistent. He shakes his head, lips curling against your skin as he runs his fingers over your shoulder, lowering the strap down your shoulder. “I don’t even have to take your clothes off to ruin you. How pathetic of you, honey. But I know you love that, don’t you, baby?” You nod, whimpering as you begin grinding against the cloth of your underwear. It’s a desperate and pathetic move on your part, but you lost that side of your self-respect a long time ago.
Michael grasps onto your chin, turning it slightly to shove his tongue into your warm mouth. Your mouth has become his favorite taste, and the familiar rhythm you both fall into every time you kiss is still his forever favorite thing you’ve both ever done. Your tongue doesn’t even attempt to search for dominance; you didn’t want it. Michael hummed at this revelation, smirking into the kiss. He brings his fingers to your exposed collarbone and tugs at your shirt. Every rasp you attempt to take gets cut off by Michael’s lips, never leaving yours, and if it weren’t for the fact that his fingers were toying with the top of your breasts, you’d almost melt onto the floor. Every broad stroke against your tongue is a reason to indeed melt, and you feel the tears swell up in your eyes. Michael finally lets go and cups your cheek, tongue lapping at your fallen tears. “Get naked.”
You keep your gaze on him as you nod, taking a step away from him as he watches you through the mirror. He’s become familiar with every curve on your body, with every hidden birthmark on your skin. His eyes still over the lovebites he’s given you in the past week, a reminder that there’s never been a day where’s never made love to you. You stand exposed in front of him, naked body on display on the stage. You no longer care to be caught; the thought of someone walking in and seeing Michael worship you isn’t so bad.
Michael presses your back to the front of his body, and he licks his fingers in the same way he did the day you met, and it brings you to a lewd moan. You bring your hand to your mouth, but he shakes his head. “Let whoever’s there hear us. I want them to know everything about you is mine, and every part of me is yours.”
He brings his salivated fingers down your hardened nipples and to your stomach, softly running his palm below your belly. He finally makes his way to your opening, and he softly sighs. “Spread em’, baby.”
You comply and spread your legs apart, bringing your hand to hold onto Michael’s arm. Your gaze remains on his hand through the mirror, and you begin grinding on his fingers. Michael doesn’t reprimand you, not this time. By the quivers of your body against him, he can sense the stress you feel. He knows you’ve adapted yourself to a perfectionist mindset like his, and he understands you more than anyone when it comes to that. He wants to relieve you from your stress, so he begins to slowly pump his fingers inside your slippery cunt, watching in awe as the sounds of the contact fill his ears. He occasionally thrusts a little too deeply inside you, making sure your eyes stay open and on him.
Your legs shake, the sensation becoming too much. His fingers are so filling, so comforting, so perfect. It’s like they were perfectly curated to always bring you to a finish. They’re the weakness Michael will always possess over you. He brings his free hand to fondle your breast, twisting the nipple. He watches your reactions, every crease of your forehead, and every open-mouthed moan, being the reason for his hot and leaking tip. Every tightening against his perfectly-veined, long, and filling fingers gives his cock a soft pulse, a heartbeat of its own.
“You’re taking me so good, baby. I’m so proud of you. So, so proud.” He murmurs against your ear, and you let out a filthy choke, the words reminding you of the passion Michael never tends to forget to integrate in every sexual act you both commit.
Every glide makes your eyes roll back, and if it weren’t for Michael’s body to support you, you’d be on the floor, body quivering from the overstimulating pleasure. Michael’s own eyes softly roll back at your desperate cries. He feels his cock throbbing, and he’s almost sure he’ll spill himself in his pants. He doesn’t care, however, because every thrust he gives you, his eyes watch as your breasts bounce from the pressure. You fall back onto his chest, biting your lip, eyes still open.
“I want to cum, please. Can I come?” You plead, hair disheveled, skin burning, face sweaty. To Michael, however, this is where he falls more and more in love with your beauty. Your natural ability to be in the most exposed state yet be the most beautiful thing he’s ever laid his eyes on, that’s what enropes his heart to follow yours.
Michae’s fingertips trace over the prickles in your skin, and every throb he feels in his other fingers he feels reach his cock. He nods and watches as you let go, trembling as you finish on his fingers. “That’s it, baby. Just like that. Look at how beautiful you are, finishing on your man’s fingers. All of this, just for me?”
You find all the energy in your body to nod, your pussy leaking down Michael’s long fingers and onto his palm. It reaches down your legs, and Michael hums. “Sweet, sweet, beautiful candy.”
Michael pulls his pants down, pumping his cum-covered cock a few times before slightly bending you over. Michael loved fucking you in whatever position he could, but standing up drove him wild. It was his weakness, and every thrust he would give was a thrust given with obligation and force. He aligns himself with your leaking cunt, and he slowly thrusts himself into you. His fingers trace down your spine, pleasuring you to the point where your eyes are rolled back, and your mouth is salivating. Michael looks at you through the mirror, and he hums, building a sensual rhythm inside you first.
“You fill me so good, baby. Thank you. Thank you.” You whimper, and Michael cooes, pushing himself in you all the way. As he goes in deeper, the urge to thrust back into him sparks in your mind, and you almost do it, but Michael’s grip on your back reminds you of your place.
His cock slams inside you, so convulsing, so feverish, yet it is electric. The erotic feeling runs through while he’s inside you, and he laces his fingers with yours. The dominating passion of knowing you’re safe, all because of him, warms your heart, but it mostly ignites Michael’s. He’s proud of himself for being able to make his baby so happy and fulfilled.
The drag of his cock along the heat of your walls makes your body begin to spasm against him, and the tingling of his fingertips begins beating against your own. Every whine and whimper you both let out is needy, urgent for more.
“I’m going to spill inside you, okay, honey? Not a single drop will be spilled because I want it inside you for as long as you can hold it.” Michael breathes against your ear, and you shamelessly nod. Every thrust becomes deliberate, deep, and owning. His cock knew it claimed you from the moment it first thrusted inside you, and your pussy had no shame, perfectly molding around it.
Michael’s hips begin stuttering, and you begin to cum. You begin to cry, the stimulation overbearing and hungry. Michael doesn’t slow, using every ounce of energy inside him to slam into you, the sounds of your skin slapping against each other filling the room. His knees buckle, and his vision blurs, coming undone as he spills inside you. His thrusts slow, but don’t stop. He lets out a stuttered moan as he makes sure he empties everything inside of you before pulling out. He brings his shaky finger down your legs, picking your face up to his chest as he pumps his fingers inside you, making sure every drop of his finish coats your walls.
He watches as you whimper, wiping away your tears before finally taking his fingers out of you, resting below your breasts. He kisses the top of your head, eyes never leaving yours.
“I’m so proud of you, baby. You’re perfect in every single way.”
You softly smile, hips beginning to move sensually as he hums “The Way You Make Me Feel,” the movement bringing him to a soft sigh, reminding him of the exact reason you captured his attention.
Synopsis: Michael's not in the mood to do anything big for his birthday but you won't let the day end without a little birthday gift.
Pairing: Husband!Michael Jackson x fem!reader
Warnings: Language, oral (m receiving), unprotected sex
Word count: 2.5k
Drea's note: Very late because I disappeared, whoops!
A gentle breeze flows into the sunset-lit living room. It seems as though every piece of furniture that the low rays hit is covered in a deep orange hue, creating a surreal environment around you. You hear the ocean sing from a distance, its scent filling the large penthouse. The birds outside chirp, filling your ears just on top of the television before you. The sound tells you that the birds are making their way to their nests as the day ends. It’s a calming sound, reminding you of how peaceful life has been ever since you married Michael.
The day seemed to go by quicker than you imagined. Having not done anything significant, you thought it would be a slow one. You thought your husband was joking when he told you he didn’t want to do anything special for his birthday, but here you are, sitting next to him on the plush brown couch as he eats a forkful of the cheesecake you baked for him in the morning.
“It’s 6pm already?” He asks, watching his favourite show begin to play right on time.
You huff and cross your arms. “Yup, and we’ve done nothing all day.”
“Well I did say I wanted to relax today.” Michael sinks deep into the couch.
You had so much planned for him today. First you’d make him breakfast in bed, then take in for a walk along the beach and end it off with a lovely dinner along the coast. However, all of that was turned down the minute you brought it up that morning.
With a sigh, you turn yourself towards him. “I thought you said we could celebrate your birthday properly this year.”
He hums, keeping his eyes on the TV. This frustrates you, but knowing Michael, he probably had a good reason not to want something huge for the day. Of course his religious beliefs had something to do with it, but you knew that wasn’t all it was because as he grew older, he became more lenient with religious practices, especially when it came to celebrating birthdays.
You stand up and face him, blocking his view of the TV. He looks at you while shoving another forkful of cheesecake into his mouth with a blank expression.
“You’re blocking the TV, pretty one.” He speaks as he chews, tilting his head to catch a glimpse of the show.
“Come one, Mike,” you whine, “tell me.”
“He chuckles. “Tell you what?”
“Why didn’t you want anything for your birthday?” You fold your hands over your chest.
He chuckles some more, clearly enjoying how something so simple - to him at least - could have his pretty girl this worked up.
“I was just lazy” he shrugs, gently grabbing your hand and placing a soft kiss to it before turning you around and propping you on his lap, “Just wanted to rot in here with you, you know?”
“I can’t believe you.” You laugh and he chuckles behind you.
Michael kisses the back of your shoulders. Wrapping his arms around your middle. What an unbelievable excuse right? But you can’t argue with him. He barely gets to have a day to himself, even now as his schedule has calmed down.
“Well I’m not going to sit here and not give you a birthday gift.” You stand up and pretend to dust yourself off before walking away and into the bedroom.
“What-” He protests but shrugs and finishes up the last of his cheesecake, turning his attention back to the TV.
You walk into the large bedroom closet, making your way to the end on your side of the hanging clothes. Once you’re there, you crouch down and pull out a black velvet box tied with a red ribbon. You smile to yourself, untying the ribbon and opening the box. In it is a stunning pink lace set of lingerie topped off with a silky black robe. You begin undressing yourself, staring off with your grey leggings and cotton underwear then your black strap top and then your bra. As you stand there bare, you pick up the lacy bra from the black box and swiftly put it on, then the panties. You slip on the robe before walking out of the room back to where Michael is, still sitting with his arms splayed across the couch.
“Mike?” You call from behind him.
“Hmm?” He answers without looking back.
You roll your eyes and make your way to him, standing in front of the TV again, this time with a sly smile painted across your face. He looks at the black robe and raises an eyebrow.
“Getting ready to sleep already?” He asks, oblivious to what you have planned.
“Untie it.” He stands up; leaving only an inch of space between your bodies; and unites the robe.
“Fuck…” He whispers under his breath as the black robe opens to expose your gift to him.
His eyes roam your perfectly sculpted body. It’s as if a fire in him has been set alight looking at the way his eyes move up and down your body. You watch his eyes slowly darken and a dirty smile paints his face as he continues to drink in the sight before him.
“Gosh, you have no idea what you’re doing to me.” He looks down at you before pulling you into his seductive embrace.
“Oh I know exactly what I’m doing.” You retorted before pushing him back on the couch.
He lands with a soft huff, His eyes darkening more than they had already. You spread his legs a bit to stand directly in front of him before dropping the robe. You run your hands over your body swaying your hips, playing with the delicate pink material. The sight drives Michael insane. His eyes close for a few seconds before he opens them slightly as he watches you dance to whatever rhythm you have playing in your head. Without warning, you drop to your knees and tug at his black sweatpants you forced him to wear that day.
“Slow down, pretty one,” He breathes out as he lifts his hips, allowing you to pull the pants and his underwear off.
You smile at the sight of his large member propped up in front of you. The sight has you drooling, and you feel your panties dampen. God, sometimes you think about how easily turned on you are just by the sight of him. He hasn't even touched you yet and here you are, soaking your pink panties like crazy.
“I don’t want to,” you wrap your hands around his cock, “need you in my mouth.”
Before he can even respond, you sit up slightly and place your lips on his tip, sticking your tongue out and swirling it around the tip the way he showed you how he liked it a few months ago. He sighs deeply and closes his eyes as you bop your head slowly, taking more and more of him into your warm mouth.
“Fuck, baby. Like that. Just like that,” he grunts with his hands trying his hardest not to pull your freshly braided hair.
To say Michael is big is an understatement. He is huge, probably the biggest dick you’ve ever encountered. To be honest, your hands barely make it around this cock as you twist them up and down to make up for not being able to fit him entirely in your mouth. A mixture of your spit and his precum travels down his length as his grunts gradually increase in volume. You look up at him and his eyes are completely shut with his mouth hanging open. This gives you a sudden boost of confidence as you place your hands around his warm balls and massage them slowly, keeping your head bops at a moderate pace. He sucks in air sharply and you can tell the feeling is overwhelming for him. His hands grip the couch as tight as possible as you continue the delicious assault on him for a while longer.
“Shit, pretty one, stop. Stop.” He whimpers, pulling your head up softly.
“What’s wrong?” You frown confused. “I was almost done.”
“I was too close, baby. I want to come inside that pretty pussy of yours.”
His breath is shaky as he replaces your hand on his cock with his own, pumping himself slowly, before he motions for you to stand up.
“Take it off,” he commands, unbuttoning the black shirt he has on.
“No.”
“Excuse me?” He gives you the look, the one look that would scare anyone else if they defied him. It has little to no effect on you now, but you do love seeing him like that.
“Take it off for me,” you say smugly, turning around to expose the ribbons keeping the lingerie on
He scoffs with a grin, throwing his unbuttoned shirt behind the couch before standing right behind you. He places a kiss to the top of your head then your neck and rests his head on your shoulder.
“If you were anyone else I would be very upset with you. You know that right?” he places one more kiss to your neck as he pulls on the soft ribbon keeping your bra on.
“I know,” You sigh as your boobs bounce slightly at their release.
“You just love pushing my buttons,” he pulls on the ribbon on the right of your panties.
“I do.”
“Naughty.” He pulls on the one on the left and your panties fall to the warm floor with a quiet thud.
Without warning he sits back on the couch, turning you around and placing you on his lap this time facing him. Your hips seem to move on their own as they rub against his veiny length. You need him inside you so badly and he can see that. unbeknownst to you, he decides to tease you a little bit, bucking his hips as he wraps his mouth around your hardened left nipple.
“Baby, please,” you moan as you rock your hips harder, your clit’s rubbing against his cock enough to have your juices flooding.
“Patience, pretty one.” He mumbles, swapping your left nippled for the right.
You can’t wait any longer. Once again, you decide to defy him, lifting your hips up and angling his thick cock to your entrance. You look at him with apologetic eyes as you drop your hips, pushing him deeper and deeper into your soaking vet pussy.
You both moan at the feeling of your bodies connecting. Michael’s once annoyed face now melting into something darker, something you should be used to but the way his brown eyes darken with lust for you still catches you off guard. He grunts as you sit, his dick deep inside of you.
“I couldn't wait, I’m sorry,” You whine as you rock your hips, feeling every inch of him inside you, “Needed you so bad, Mike.”
His eyes are hooded again but this time, his jaw is clenched and his hands grip the soft flesh of your hips, attempting stops himself from fucking the hell out of you. It’s not often you take him completely so he knows you need time to adjust, but fuck, the sight of you like this, tits bouncing slightly in his face, pussy clenching his cock for dear life is driving him insane.
You whine from the mixture of pain and pleasure engulfing your nerves. Your body begins to adjust to his enormous size and you bounce on Michael’s dick a bit more, allowing a few inches of him to slip in and out of your warm pussy.
“That’s it, pretty one. You’re doing so well,” He fondles your right boob keeping one hand on your thigh, “taking me so well.”
You bite your lips at the sound of his words. You speed up, letting more and more his cock slip in and out of you. Your moans get louder as his cock hits that sweet spot inside you. Michael loses it too, his head falls back with a loud grunt and his hands fall to his side. You’re both a moaning, sweaty messy on the couch, breathing hard as you bounce on him like your lives depend on it. Somehow you’ve managed to ignore the feeling of your thighs burning for this long, unfortunately, Michael hasn’t. He feels your hips falter, looking up at you before hauling your movements.
“Lay on your stomach, Y/N,” He lifts you up and waits for you to get into position.
Michael props a fluffy cushion under your stomach to arch your hips in the slightest before gently spanking your butt. Your head drops to the edge of the couch with a satisfied sigh. He spanks you one move time before slipping himself into you. He barely gives you time to adjust to the new position his cock hits your g-spot before he’s thrusting hard and fast in and out of you.
Your mouth falls open and a mixture of a scream and a moan leaves your mouth at the intense feeling behind you. Thank the heavens you’re the only tenants on the top floor. Michael grinds with every thrust he makes, his eyes fixed on your reflection in the mirror facing you both. As if you weren’t a moaning mess while riding him. you eyes well up with tears of pure pleasure ass Michael fucks you with so much passion.
“Look at yourself, pretty one.” He lifts your head so you're face to face with your messy reflection in the mirror. You mascara’s running and your face is damp from a mixture of tears and sweat as he pumps himself in and out of you.
“Mi-Michael!” you cry out, feeling yourself getting closer to the edge.
“I know, baby, I can feel it.” You look up at his reflection. His eyes are fixed on you. He leans down to press a passionate kiss to the sweet spot on your neck as he whispers dirty words of encouragement to you.
The knot in your stomach tightens, your vision blurs as you climb closer and closer to the edge, and then it happens. Your body shakes as your legs clench from the gravity of your organism. Your eyes close tight as you scream Michael’s name like its a prayer
“That’s it, pretty one, let go for me. Make a mess on my cock,” He whispers into your ear as his thrusts falter.
As he reaches his high, you feel another organism creeping up on you. You warn Michael, begging him not to stop fucking you. He grunts, trying his best to grant you your wish. He holds out long enough for you to cum again. Your second orgasm is stronger than the first one. Your nails dig into the leather and you scream Michael’s name louder than you ever have. He’s soon to follow, halting his movements to spill his thick seed inside you with whimpers of your name falling from his gentle lips before he presses his sweaty body onto yours, resting his head in the crook of your neck.
God, you loved hearing him moan like that. You thought he only did it in his songs but here you are, hearing those exact sounds in between moans of your name. What a lucky girl you are.
“Happy birthday, Michael,” You breath out still under him.
࿐content/warnings: smutty, age gap IMPLIED, angst, bit of mature era michael <3, emotional cheating kinda, reader is fem, lowkey dark michael
࿐wc: 1.3k
࿐A/N: been lazy and still writing my next imagine... it's a long one, so appreciate this short mature michael era headcannon :-))
fwb! michael who befriended you before he got married, making conversation on a mickey mouse shirt you were wearing
fwb! michael who took a subtle and bold look at the way your shirt accentuated your breasts, biting his bottom lip
fwb! michael who often thought of you when he was alone, running his hands down his stomach and to his underwear, groaning at the thought of how your delicate hands would feel on his cock
fwb! michael who'd often feel guilty that he thought of you that way, as you were simply just friends
fwb! michael who felt guilty, still wanting to be your friend while he was married
fwb! michael who once he got his divorce, instructed his driver to take him to your house and knocked on your door, tears streaming down his face
fwb! michael who appreciated that you opened your arms to him and his problems
fwb! michael who looked up as he wrapped his arms around you, smelling how sweet your neck smelled against his face
fwb! michael who ran his fingers across your lips, loving the way your natural lip shade matched so perfectly against your skin tone
fwb! michael who closed his eyes, leaning in and kissing you fiercely
fwb! michael who undressed you desperately, letting out a whimper as he pounded into you mercilessly
fwb! michael who brought his large hand over your mouth, warning you to be quiet so you wouldn’t wake up your roommates
fwb! michael who traced his fingers over your clit, rubbing it with passion, bringing you to your finish
fwb! michael who woke up the next morning, sternly stating that it couldn’t happen anymore, pretending that his heart didn’t hurt when you agreed
fwb! michael who got married again months later, breaking your heart as he happily announced his marriage in a public interview
fwb! michael who called you a few weeks later, telling you that the marriage wasn’t actually romantic, but instead a partnership so he could get the kids he wanted
fwb! michael who drove to your house that same weekend, kissing you passionately for an entire hour, fingering you in front of your mirror
fwb! michael who didn’t stop fingering you until you passed out, pressing kisses against the side of your face as you woke up and begged for more
fwb! michael who left a few days after, asking you to keep sleeping with him but respecting that he was married
fwb! michael who still called you now and then, asking you how you’ve been
fwb! michael who felt angry that you had a date and couldn’t call him the next day
fwb! michael who was waiting for you at home, placing you across your lap and spanking you till you apologized and cried, promising it wouldn’t happen again
fwb! michael who woke up the next day and reminded you that even though you weren’t allowed to date, you were still just friends
fwb! michael who kept up this routine for the timeline of his marriage, until he told you over coffee that he was divorcing his wife
fwb! michael who blushed at the smirk on your face as you hummed, biting your lip
fwb! michael who bent you over your kitchen table, whispering sweet nothings as you cried out for him to give you more
fwb! michael who told you that you two could still only be friends, as he was a single father now and had to focus entirely on his children
fwb! michael who was shocked that you showed up a few days later, bringing baked cookies for his children
fwb! michael who looked at you with a hint of appreciation and love as you took turns reading to his kids
fwb! michael who helped you as you dried the dishes, talking about your day
fwb! michael who didn’t like how he felt as you walked out the door with no intentions of kissing him
fwb! michael who called you the next day, asking why you didn’t sleep with him
fwb! michael who was surprised that you initiated the idea of sleeping together while still being true friends
fwb! michael who agreed and liked the idea of you being someone he could trust, while also still admiring your naked body and the unique way only you could make him finsih
fwb! michael who treated you like a friend in public, taking you to lunch and sharing his new music notes, yet fucking you like there was no tomorrow that same night
fwb! michael who loved that you were always there, even after years of keeping you in the same cycle
fwb! michael who took you as a date to an event one night, feeling jealousy lace into his blood as you spoke to his colleagues
fwb! michael who reminded you on the drive home who you really belonged to, leaving bite marks all over your exposed collarbone, feeling satisfied that you complied
fwb! michael who celebrated your birthday some time after, not being sexual but instead a genuine friend, suprising you with a vacation with your closest friends
fwb! michael who reminded you he didn’t expect anything in return, just your authentic and trustworthy friendship
fwb! michael who felt his heart break as you came home and didn’t reach out to him for some weeks, until his kids asked for you
fwb! michael who called you, expressing that he missed you and asked why you didn’t call him when you arrived home
fwb! michael who heard your cries, telling him you couldn’t continue being friends with him because you had fallen in love
fwb! michael who stayed silent, because he didn’t know what to say, and so you hung up, never calling back again
fwb! michael who was angry at you, but more himself, for allowing himself to think he could ever think he could be a friend to you while having sex
fwb! michael who requested that his people keep an eye on you, giving him any significant updates about your life
fwb! michael who felt anger bubble into his blood as his spy had updated him with the fact that a guy was coming over to your house, almost every night
fwb! michael who looked into the guy, finding out that the two of you worked together and were trying out dating
fwb! michael who was asked in an interview if he was romantically linked with anyone, and he said yes, and he said your name so delicately, you couldn’t help but fall to your knees, turning the TV off and sobbing
fwb! michael who arrived at your house, pounding on your door and demanding to see you
fwb! michael who sat outside your door for some time until you caved in, opening the door and asking him why he said what he said
fwb! michael who said he didn’t know why, but that he didn’t regret it
fwb! michael who made love to you against your bedsheets, sobbing into your arms as he apologized
fwb! michael who begged for forgiveness, appreciating that you forgave him so quickly
bf! michael who drove you to his place, introducing you to his kids as “daddy’s girlfriend”
bf! michael who proposed a year later, expressing that he always did love you, he was just afraid it would turn into more, and then abruptly end
fiancée! michael who stared at your ring as he fucked you gently, forcing you to look at him through the mirror, keeping your eyes open as he made love to you
fiancée! michael who watched as you slept, admiring your beauty, tracing his name over your heart, thanking God you forgave him and still loved him
