ᝰ.ᐟ FIRST TIME FOR EVERYTHING
pairing: off the wall!michael jackson x f!reader
summary: michael makes love to you, unprotected, for the first time
warning: smut, 18+, unprotected sex, p-in-v, handjob, fingering, creampie, use of ‘mama’ ‘baby’ ‘sweetheart’ ‘tink/tinka’, established relationship
author’s note: decided to switch up my style, and i really like it! heavily inspired by @/michaeldiary (not sure if she’d want to be directly tagged but go check out her amazing work!)
Michael had been dreaming about making love to you, unprotected, since the very beginning of your relationship.
He hated to admit it—as he felt blasphemous and crude for thinking about his lady in such a way—but it was the lewd truth. Ever since he officially called you his girl, he let his twisted mind run away with itself at the idea of making love to you with no barriers. Dreaming of the opportunity to feel the sensation of sliding into your wet, warm heat with no physical preventative, coating his length in your slick arousal.
It drove him wild.
Unfortunately for his none-the-wiser Witness mother, Michael had made love to you before. Countless, incredible, mind-blowing times—alas, protected. The amount of condoms he stole from Jackie’s bedside drawer was almost comedic—until you told him to just send Bill to the drugstore for his very own box.
That he did—it was shocking how many boxes you were going through the second you both grew madly intoxicated with sex. It was sensational—Michael knew all of the spots, inside and out of you, that made you mewl. Whether it was nipping at the skin beneath your earlobe, or the way you liked your clit rubbed, or how much pressure to apply when toying with your nipples, or the angle of his hips when he would be driving into you at a ferocious speed, hitting the spot that left you screaming—he knew them all like the back of his hand. Each session of electrifying sex better than the last.
He didn’t think anything could top it.
Except one thing.
“Tink?”
Michael’s soft, warm voice sounded itself into the small of your bedroom, forcing your head up from the book you were deeply engrossed in. You looked up slowly from the moreish pages, not wanting to drag your glasses-clad eyes away from the words that were drawing you in, before you met his gaze.
Michael was lying on his stomach comfortably at the foot of your bed—knuckle-deep in his notebook that had jumbles of lyrics, affirmations and song titles scribbled across it in his messy, hurried writing, a worn down pencil in his grasp. He was in his pyjamas, hair ruffled from running a hand through it incessantly, and a curious, nervous expression across his face.
“What’s up, baby?”
Michael averted your gaze, vision locking on your feet nearest his head, his eyes locking on the small rabbits that etched themselves into the soft, fluffy fabric.
“I’ve been thinkin’.”
“Oh, no.” You giggled, deciding this was far more interesting than your book, as you dog-eared the page, closing it shut and slipping it gently next to you on the white, cotton sheets.
“Nothin’ bad, ‘promise.” He breathed out a short laugh, “Just about ..us.”
“That makes it sound real bad, Mikey.”
Michael huffed out another chuckle, “No, no. I just mean …us, like—like, what we do.”
You watched him intently as he rambled—his hands now coming up to pick the balls of fluff that had escaped their woven capture of your socks, slender fingers prying them from the material softly, as his mind raced a thousand miles a minute.
“You’re gonna have to be a bit clearer, honey.” You coaxed softly, titling your head to the side as you watched him.
He had always been shy and bashful—afraid of serious or intimate conversations in his timid nature. Nevertheless, you adored that about him—he was soft, kind, and sweet, all brilliant qualities that made your heart warm.
Michael sighed loudly, his head dropping slightly in an attempt to hide the embarrassed blush that crept up his cheeks and ears—painting his brown skin a deep shade of burgundy.
“I was just wonderin’—only if you wanted to of course!—if you wanted to …if me and you could, y’know...” He mumbled quickly, picking faster now as his innermost thoughts let slip, “I was just wonderin’ if when me and you …you-know-what …we could maybe, again only if you wanted to and were comfortable with, we could—“
“Michael, what on Earth are you saying, baby?” You laughed, smiling brightly at his frantic mumbling.
“Gosh, I’m awful at this. Forget it.” Michael huffed in defeat, his head falling into the plush sheets beneath him, hiding his face from you.
“No, no! Baby, don’t do that.” You giggled softly, leaning down to pry his face gently from the covers, thumbs instantly finding his warm cheeks to provide comfort in his anxiousness, “You don’t need to be embarrassed or worried, y’know I won’t judge you.”
Michael gazed at you, lip now caught between his teeth, as he debated the words in his head—eyes swimming in your own in an attempt to find any malice or dishonesty. He found none, and sighed, accepting defeat.
“I wanted to know if maybe you wanted to, when we …make love, you wanted to not use a—oh, Jesus—a …condom.”
The silence that followed was short, the only sound filling Michael’s apprehensive ears was the loud thumping of his own racing heartbeat—before your soft, sweet giggles filled it.
“Oh, Mikey, is that what it was all this time?” You breathed with a wide smile, “Baby, you’re so adorable.”
“Stop, Tink! I’m serious.”
If even at all possible, your smile grew deeper at his flushed, nervous frame, hands back picking at your socks as he awaited your real response.
“Yes.”
“What?”
“Yes, Michael. I do want to.”
Michael swallowed thickly—eyes darting up swiftly to meet your own as your agreement hit him. He didn’t know what he was expecting, but such a quick, nonchalant response was definitely not it.
“R—Really? You do?” Michael breathed, almost stunned at the causality of your words.
“Yes, honey.” You smiled, your hand moving to cup his cheek, the red-hot blush creeping through your skin as you connected with him, “We’ve been together long enough now, I trust you.”
And that’s how you ended up stark naked, clothes discarded on the floor beneath the bed, yes even your bunny socks!, and between Michael’s spread legs. His head lay comfortably against the headboard as you met his lips—whining softly into the kiss as his tongue brushed into your mouth with the practiced ease of a long-term, established boyfriend. Adjusting in your spot, Michael’s half-hard dick brushed against the skin of your forearm—a groan spilling from his lips, into yours, length jumping where it rest against his abdomen.
Your hand, nimble and precise, slipped between your connected bodies at the lips, and wrapped firmly around the thick, warm base of him. Michael parted from your lips momentarily, head lolling back against the wood of your headboard, eyes fluttering shut, as the sensation of your small hand curling around him sent thumping blood flooding into the direction of where you held. While he was preoccupied succumbing to the pleasure, you took the opportunity to spit into your palm, switching hands to your more confident, and instantly begin a slow, rhythmic pumping of his cock.
“S-Shit! Tinka, just like that.” Michael breathed, the loud shlick! shlick! shlick! of your methodical fist around his stiff length filled the room, mingling deliciously with his unashamed whines of pleasure.
His clit-throbbingly beautiful whines only increased as you peppered kisses along the column of his throat—occasionally nipping at the skin to gauge his reaction, which came willingly with each graze of your teeth and suck of the skin. Your hand remained working on him—a slow, almost teasing curl of your wrist each time you’d make it to the thick base, before tightening ever so slightly around the shaft, and then squeezing gently at the head, thumb swiping over his tip, collecting the drooling pre-cum onto your digits as added lubricant, in a fluid movement.
Michael was a whimpering mess, head fallen back, eyes rolled into his skull, mouth agape letting the prettiest noises fall from his plump lips—all the while letting his cock twitch violently in your grasp. With another swipe of your thumb over the head, Michael jerked his hips upwards involuntarily, a low groan scratching from deep in his chest at the stimulation.
“C—Come up here, baby.” He rasped, eyes now forced open to meet yours, that ogled him hungrily.
You shuffled, hand still enclosed around his shaft, up the bed, straddling his meaty thighs. You got comfortable, resting your weight on his legs, as you began your slow, torturous pace once more.
Michael wasted no time—his hands instantaneously coming up to grab a hold of the fat of your hips, kneading the skin beneath his calloused palms. With precision only a boyfriend of eighteen months would have, Michael’s hands slipped between your legs—hands massaging your inner thighs, tempting you to pleasure. A quiet mewl escaped you as his touch left a hot, burning residue over your skin—like his hands were made of fire, as they etched closer to where you drooled.
“Oh, mama.” Michael panted, his fingers coming in direct contact with your seeping arousal that painted your inner thighs, “This all f’me?”
“Mmh—“ A whine escaped you as his fingers trailed higher and higher, “Just for you, baby.”
Michael hummed, satisfied with your response, before swiping a singular finger through your soaking wet lips—digits collecting your ecstatic essence on his fingers, the tip of his finger catching your clit with each stroke. Your back arched instantly into the touch, a quiet whimper tumbling from your lips before you could stop it, as your hand slightly tightened around his cock.
Michael hissed at the sensation, “Shit—You like that, mama? You like it when I touch you like that, hm?”
You nodded quickly, a soft, almost inaudible moan left you, as his pressed the pad of his finger directly onto your throbbing pearl—applying the perfect pressure to leave you breathless and wanting more.
“Can I put one inside you, baby?”
“Please, please, Michael—Ah!”
In one slippery, swift movement, the long slenderness of his middle finger filled you—the sheer length of his nimble digits instantly forcing you to double over. You moaned loudly by the shell of his ear, feminine and sensual, the noise going straight to where you stroked Michael—a similar noise mixing with your own. Michael, knowing you so well, curled his fingers upwards to your front wall—the pad of his finger rubbing, at a delicious pace, against the spot inside you that had you crying out.
“Oh, yeah? That the spot, baby? Right there?” He huffed, breath hot against your cheek, before he pressed a tender kiss there.
“Yes—God—right there!”
Your hand never stopped its stroking—clamped down in a perfect grip around his leaking dick as he worked his finger inside you. Soon enough, a second finger slipped in—the stretch of his thick, lengthy digits sending you breathless and whining, the intensity of the magic of his hands making you flushed and sweating from the arousal.
“Mama, I need—Mmmh—Sweetheart, I need you. Need to feel you, please.” Michael begged, his Bambi, doe-eyes meeting your blown-out ones as you forced yourself up from his neck.
“Okay, honey, okay, I—oh, God—I’m ready.”
With another quick hum of agreement, Michael hoisted you up from his lap, two strong hands under your arms, and rose from the bed. He laid you down gently, a hand coming up to cradle your head to soften the fall, as your bare back hit the cool cotton. Michael hovered over you, leaning down to press rushed, messy kisses to your swollen lips, tongue swirling your own, and nipping at your bottom lip excitedly.
Straightening up, Michael took a firm hold of his hardened dick, stroking it softly in his fist, before guiding it between your parted legs.
“You sure you’re ready, mama?”
Your heart, already burning with ecstatic desire, warmed at his thoughtful nature—nodding briskly as he lifted your legs smoothly, hooking them over his broad shoulders. He instantly guided his dick towards where you drooled—your arousal now coating your puffy lips, trickling out of you like a faucet.
With a singular slide of his dick between your bare, slick folds, his length coated in your arousal, mixing with his own pre-cum, Michael ripped a groan from his throat. You too gasped—the scorching heat of his plump, mushroom-headed tip gliding over your exposed sex sent shockwaves of electricity flying through you.
“Oh—Oh, God, Tink.” Michael whined, eyebrows scrunched up his forehead, “Y’so—Shit—You’re so warm, oh my.”
“Michael, please,” You panted, desperate to feel him, “Stop teasin’ and put it in, please.”
“O—Okay, baby, I’ll make y’feel good, ‘promise.”
With ease, Michael guided his throbbing dick towards your clenching entrance, and with a lewd pop!, the head caught—and for the first time, he slid in. Raw.
The unison cry of pleasure that left both of you was pornographic—your head threw back against the sheets, the overwhelming sensation of his thick, hot, unprotected dick sliding into your tight, slick pussy had you seeing stars, and he hadn’t even bottomed out. As for Michael, he was already seeing things—not stars, but, more so, hearts. He’d never felt something so incredible in all his life—he was certain this feeling, the spasming, wetness of your bare sex, clenching around him like you didn’t want to ever let him go, was going to change your sex life forever.
“Holy shit, baby.” Michael groaned, voice cracking ever so slightly as he finally buried himself to the hilt—dick nudging your cervix from the size of him, and stretching you out to near max capacity.
Michael wasn’t one for cursing—so you knew in this moment he’d never felt anything so sensational.
“Fuck, baby—mmnh—move, honey, please.” You begged, your voice nearing on a sob as the sensation of his cock twitching inside you flowed through you like water down a dry gullet.
Michael moved swiftly—like he couldn’t bear the thought of leaving you unsatisfied for one moment—and pulled back, before slamming back in. Your back curved into a ‘C’ shape as it arched off the sheets—his cock already abusing your G-spot even after the first delicious thrust.
Michael was loosing it already—now nestling his face into the crook of your ankle, pressing sloppy kisses to the skin, whining into the flesh that danced with your perfume, as he dragged his dick in and out, in and out, in and out—each time as beautifully arousing as the last.
“Jesus Christ, Tink, I—I’ve—oh my God—never felt anything like this.” He revealed, eyes turning to your fucked-out expression, “Y’got the most perfect, beautiful pussy in the whole world, girl—shit!”
His name fell from your lips in a seductive, sensual manner—chanting it like a crazed fan of his in a crowd, like the only thing your brain could even fathom was his name. Michael continued smothering his face in your ankle, occasionally pressing kisses to your pedicured toes—whimpering about how every part of you, head to toe, was pure perfection. How he couldn’t believe how he landed with a girl like you.
He was star-struck.
Just like always, whenever Michael would press you into the mattress and take you with the magic between his legs, a mind-numbing orgasm crept up your spine—tingling deep in your abdomen. The blabbering began—his dick still splitting you in half as his hips rolled desperately fast into your crotch, his coarse, curly pubic hairs dragging along your clit with the perfect friction.
“Mich—Fuck, baby!—Michael, I’m gonna—Oh! Ah! I’m gonna cum!” You cried out, louder than you anticipated and now secretly thankful you lived alone in your California apartment.
Michael whimpered at the reveal of your pleasure—his body jerking forward to nestle into your front, still rutting into you like a dog in heat. With every practiced, harsh thrust of his hips, dick repeatedly abusing the toe-curling spot inside you, your orgasm approached faster and faster, like a train going a thousand miles an hour. And that out-of-this world orgasm only hit you head on, like a saucepan to the forehead, as Michael’s plush lips wrapped around your pebbled nipple—swirling his tongue around the erect nub, before sucking with pristine suction.
“Michael!”
It was sensational—the magnitude of the orgasm that washed over you was nothing like you’d ever felt. The pressure of his mouth on your breast, his hands gripping your ankles that still rest upon his shoulders, or the prominent vein on the underside of his shaft that dragged along your fluttering walls—all contributed to slamming you head-first into a crippling release. Your legs violently shook, calves tensed and spasming on his shoulders, back arched into a brutal curve, eyes slammed shut, and half-rolled to the back of your head, and mouth taut in an ‘O’ shape as your pussy clamped down him viciously.
“O—Oh, God, sweetheart.” Michael panted, entranced by your heavenly reaction, “Thaaaat’s it, that’s it, Tinka, cum for me. Cum alllll over me, baby.”
Michael, even despite you aggressively clenching and twitching around him as you orgasmed, never let up his thrusts—continuing, faster than before, jackhammering his dick impossibly deeper as he chased his own release, grunting and groaning into your ear.
“Shit, shit, shit, love, where—Holy shit—where d’ya want me? Where d’ya want it, sweetheart?” He panted, chest heaving against your own, your perked nipples grazing over his skin, dripping with sweat.
“Inside!”
“What?”
“I—Inside, Michael, please!” You cried, eyes still clamped shut, nails dragging down his bare back, clawing at his skin as the overstimulation fashioned itself deep in your core as he relentlessly pounded into you.
“Oh, God, oh God—oh, Tink, I love you. I love you! I love you! I love y—I’m gonna—Ah!”
Crying out nearly as loud as you, Michael forced his violently throbbing dick as deep as he could go—body jerking and convulsing as he pulsed inside you. The sensation of Michael’s hot, thick spurts of cum flooding your pussy was like no other—it was otherworldly. And he came twice as hard as he would do with a condom wrapped around his pretty cock—and twice as much fluids. Michael could fill a condom pretty impressively—but this was different. With every subconscious, uncontrollable stutter of his hips as he whimpered into the crook of your neck, cum still spurting from him like a leaky tap, his release squelched loudly—now forced out the insanely small gap between his girth and your clenching walls, drooling down his exposed base, to his tightened balls, and onto the bedsheets below.
For a while, neither of you moved. Michael stilled inside you, now softening slowly inside your impossibly wet sex, filled to the brim with his release, mixing with your own creamy essence, as he heaved onto the sticky flesh of your collarbone. Your hands scattered across his back, fingers now tracing the lines you carved into his skin.
Finally, Michael, with a loud huff, lifted himself from your skin on two forearms pressed deeply into the plush of the mattress. Your eyes met, and a soft, warm bubble of giggles left both of your swollen lips—utterly enthralled by one another.
“That was…”
“Yeah.”
Another round of breathless laughter left you both, blushes creeping up your cheeks as the reality of what you’d just acted out hit your conscious brain.
Michael leaned down, pressed a loving, gentle kiss to your lips, humming softly into your mouth, beginning a slow, sensual kiss, still locked deeply inside you, even in his flaccid state.
Pulling away with a sweet mwah!, Michael smiled cheekily down at you, “I’m throwing that condom box away.”
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