my big 3 𝄞⨾𓍢ִ໋ lana del rey 𝄞⨾𓍢ִ໋ stevie nicks 𝄞⨾𓍢ִ໋ ethel cain 🌝
🔮 honorable mentions — 𝄞⨾𓍢ִ໋ paramore / hayley williams 𝄞⨾𓍢ִ໋ clairo 𝄞⨾𓍢ִ໋ p!atd 𝄞⨾𓍢ִ໋ korn 𝄞⨾𓍢ִ໋ pantera 𝄞⨾𓍢ִ໋ slipknot 𝄞⨾𓍢ִ໋ jeff buckley 𝄞⨾𓍢ִ໋ fiona apple 𝄞⨾𓍢ִ໋ alice in chains 𝄞⨾𓍢ִ໋ metallica 𝄞⨾𓍢ִ໋ lady gaga 𝄞⨾𓍢ִ໋ the doors 𝄞⨾𓍢ִ໋ kesha𝄞⨾𓍢ִ໋ michael jackson
other acc is @555aturn but I do not use it anymore so I don’t recommend following LMAO
recent works: let’s play a little game…
guidelines for requests !! (they’re closed for now)
synopsis. In the fresh modern age of 2026, the last thing you'd expect was to get thrown in a Back to the Future plot. You and your totally basic life go haywire during a moment of curiosity when you decide to test out a stubborn retro camera with mixed up dates. What happens when it wasn't just any old camera? What if it had taken you back to the 20th century? And what will you do when you find the chance to change his fate?
starring. multiple eras!michael jackson x time traveller!reader (reader is inclusive to all races)
content warnings. death, sexual content later in the story, tobacco, alcohol, mental and physical abuse, michael's childhood, and many more content labels yet to come! muahaha
PAST EXPOSURE PLAYLIST <- Spotify link
MASTERLIST
(total chapter count has not been determined yet)
—prologue | Say cheese!
—chapter 1 | This is far out!
—chapter 2 | Oh, dear child...
—chapter 3 | Funky 21st century girl!
—chapter 4 | ...
—chapter 5 | ...
—chapter 6 | ...
—chapter 7 | ...
—chapter 8 | ...
—chapter 9 | ...
—chapter 10 | ...
—chapter 11 | ...
—chapter 12 | ...
—chapter 13 | ...
—chapter 14 | ...
—chapter 15 | ...
—chapter 16 | ...
. . .
—chapter 60 | ...
(Further episodes will be decided later on.)
If you would like to be tagged for this series or for my general taglist, please let me know!
thinking about michael waking you up with his face between your thighs and grinding himself against the mattress because your moans are just too much (18+)
word count; 1.5k
a/n; wrote this at 5am so forgive me if there’s mistakes. i wanted something to fill in the gap while i continue my next fic as i’m gonna be busy this weekend. one shots are not my expertise as you all know i get carried away. hope you enjoy!!
You were dreaming about something soft, probably the way silk feels when it slides off a hanger. Something formless and warm, something that made your body sink deeper into the mattress, your fingers curling into the pillowcase, your breath slowing to match the rhythm of your pulse.
Then there was a tickle on the inside of your thigh, subtle, but there.
You didn't wake up right away. Your body registered it first, the wet, open press of lips dragging slowly up the sensitive skin, so close to where you were still swollen and warm from sleep. Your legs shifted apart without your permission, some unconscious recognition of what was already happening.
His mouth trailed higher.
Your fingers found his hair before your eyes opened. That was the tell, the way you reached for him without thinking. The curls were soft under your fingertips, still a little damp from his own sleep and you carded through them absently, still half in that dream, still not quite here.
“Mikey—”
It came out before you understood why. His lips had traced the crease where your thigh met your hip, the sensitive spot that always made you flinch and the sensation was too ticklish, too much for a body that wasn't fully awake yet. You squirmed, giggled, the sound drenched with sleep and surprise, your thighs pressing together around his head.
He didn't stop. He hummed against your skin, the vibration sinking into you, his hands sliding up to grip your hips and hold you open. His thumbs pressed into the soft flesh of your inner thighs, spreading you wider and the giggle died in your throat because now you understood.
“Oh…” You breathed.
He lifted his gaze to you from between your legs. His eyes were heavy-lidded with that lingering fatigue, his lips parted and already slick. The morning light came through the curtains in a thin beam, highlighting the curve of his cheekbone and the shadow of his lashes. He was beautiful like this.
His mouth hovered over your pussy, so close you could feel the warmth of his breath against your clit and he watched you the entire time, watched the familiarity settle into your face, watched your lips part, watched your hand tighten in his hair.
“Morning, baby.” He murmured, before lowering his mouth and drawing your clit between his lips.
Your back arched off the mattress. The sound you made was involuntary, something between a gasp and a moan, your thighs trying to close around his head again but his hands were there, firm on your hips, holding you open and still. His tongue dragged a painfully slow stripe through your folds, flat and warm, moving from bottom to top before circling your clit in tight, focused motions.
“So pretty...” He breathed against you. The words vibrated against your sensitive skin, making your hips jerk. “So fucking pretty, baby.”
He closed his eyes.
That was the part that undid you. The way his lashes fell, the way his brow furrowed like he was concentrating on something untouchable, the way his lips wrapped around your clit and he sucked, using his whole mouth with a careful consideration. Not teasing, not playful, but with sincerity. Like this was the thing he’d been dying to do since the moment he opened his eyes this morning, like he'd been laying there watching you sleep and deciding exactly where he wanted his mouth.
His hips moved against the mattress.
You almost missed it. Your vision was blurring, your head pressing back into the pillow, but you caught it, the subtle roll of his body, the way his hips ground down into the bed unconsciously, like they were being driven by pure instinct and little awareness. He was hard, he had to be. The friction was intuitive, something his body did without permission because the sounds you were making, the way your fingers twisted in his curls, the way your pussy pulsed against his tongue, it was too much for him to stay still.
He groaned against you and the vibration made you cry out.
“Mikey, I…” You didn't finish. His tongue was doing something absurd, alternating between broad, flat licks and the tight, focused pull of his lips around your clit. Every time he sucked, your hips bucked up into his mouth, your thighs trembling against his shoulders.
“Stay right there.” He whispered, his lips dragging down to trace your entrance, shallow and teasing, before he pulled back to look at you. His mouth was wrecked, his lips glossy with your arousal and his chin was wet. He looked like he'd been ruined by you, not the other way around. “Stay right there, beautiful. Let me taste you.”
He pressed his face back into you and ate you out like his life depended on it.
There was no other way to describe it. The way his tongue worked relentlessly, the way his lips sealed around your clit and pulled with a pressure that made your vision go white, the way his fingers dug into your thighs like he was anchoring himself.
He wasn't gentle anymore, he was ravenous. Every drag of his tongue was intentional, every pull of his lips was calculated, the kind of head that felt less like foreplay and more like worship, like he was trying to memorise the way you tasted so he could return to the thought later when he was alone with his hand sheathed around his hard cock.
“Shit.” You gasped, your hand fisting in his hair, tugging just enough to make him groan against you as your hips buckled slightly when his tongue hit that spot. "Oh my God, Mikey."
His cock dragged against the mattress again, harder this time, the movement jerky and desperate, his hips stuttering against the sheets. The sound he made was muffled against your pussy and the vibration hit your clit at the exact right moment, sending a shockwave through your entire body.
“You taste so good..” he panted, pulling back just long enough to say it, his lips swollen from the contact. His eyes found yours, glazed over with a mixture of desire and something unspoken. “Baby, you taste so fucking good I don’t even—”
He shut himself up and dived back in. His tongue was ferocious, curling against your entrance before sliding up to circle your clit, his lips sealing around it, working with a rhythm that had your thighs shaking and your heels digging into the mattress. He squeezed your legs gently, his thumbs pressing into the soft skin, holding you open, holding you still, keeping you right where he wanted you.
“You’re so pretty like this.” he breathed against your pussy, the words barely coherent, distorted by your skin. "So pretty, baby. I need to wake you up like this more often..”
The praise hit you somewhere deep. Your hand tightened in his curls, your hips rolling up into his mouth, chasing the friction and that sweet release. He let you. He moaned when you did it, his hips grinding into the mattress in a cadence similar to yours, his cock rutting against the sheets. His body moved with yours like you were connected, like the sounds you made were pulling something out of him he couldn't control.
“I’m close…” you breathed. “Mikey, I’m so close.”
He pulled harder. His tongue flicked against your clit in quick, focused strokes, those of a man who had a goal and knew exactly how to hit the target. His lips were tight and his cheeks hollowed, his brows furrowing in concentration. His fingers dug into your thighs, his hips pressing into the mattress in short, desperate thrusts, chasing a release he wasn’t going to get.
You came with his name in your mouth.
“Oh Michael! Fuck—”
The orgasm rolled through you in waves, your thighs clenching around his head. Your back arched to the point it ached, your fingers tugging at his hair. Your clit pulsed rapidly against his tongue, but he didn't stop. He soothed you through it with gentle flicks of his tongue, dragging through your folds in soft, languid passes while your body trembled and the aftershocks rippled through you in electric pulses.
When he finally pulled back, his mouth was a mess. His lips were swollen, his chin slick, his cheeks flushed. He pressed one last open-mouthed breath to your inner thigh, then crawled up your body, his hips settling between your legs. His cock dug into your thigh, hard and hot through his boxers, the material stretching across the diameter.
“Morning, beautiful.” he murmured against your skin, pressing a tender kiss on your forehead.
You were still trembling. Your hand found his cheek, your thumb dragging across his wet lower lip, and he caught it between his lips, slow, tender, his eyes closing again. He looked wrecked. Ruined. Like eating you out had done something to him that he hadn't expected, that he was still recovering from.
“You..” you managed, your voice wrecked. “Are not allowed to wake me up like that every morning.”
He grinned.
“Baby..” he whispered, pressing his mouth to yours, letting you taste yourself on his lips. “I’m gonna wake you up like that every single morning.”
𝄞⨾𓍢ִ໋ description: just a quiet, messy night in the kitchen with some whipped cream, a crackling minnie riperton record, and michael completely at your mercy. it's sweet, incredibly clingy, and perfect.
‹𝟹 content: 18+, smut, otw!michael, sub!michael, soft dom!reader, home alone, established relationship, cunnilingus, foodplay, handjob, making out.
(a/n): hey guys! shoutout to the anon who requested this freaky ass shit! i love it tho, and hopefully i tended to your needs. 🧸
ִֶָ. ..𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ🪽་༘࿐
the record player in the corner of your massive, sun-drenched beverly hills living room had been humming softly for hours. right now, the sweet, angelic high notes of minnie riperton’s loving you were drifting through the quiet house, the vinyl crackling just a little bit in the background. it was late, the golden california sun had long dipped below the horizon, and the house felt incredibly spacious, completely empty and private. just the two of you.
michael was sitting on the plush carpet right in front of your legs, his back resting against your shins as you combed your fingers through his gorgeous, perfectly rounded afro. he sighed softly, leaning into your touch, completely relaxed. he had come over hours ago, and the two of you had spent the evening just being young and in love. you had watched a silly movie, argued over a board game that he ended up losing on purpose just to see you laugh, and now, you were both just basking in the quiet hum of your established relationship. there was no rush, no pressure. just pure comfort.
"you hungry, baby?" you murmured, leaning forward to press a soft kiss right to the crown of his dark, soft hair.
michael tilted his head back, his big, beautiful brown eyes looking up at you. he looked so soft in the dim lighting of your living room, his long eyelashes casting shadows on his cheeks. "always," he murmured, his voice incredibly soft, almost shy. "what do you have in mind, mama?"
"i think i have some vanilla bean in the freezer," you smiled, bopping his nose. "and all the toppings we could possibly want. how does that sound?"
his eyes lit up, a sweet, boyish grin spreading across his face. "yes, please. let me help you."
you both stood up, michael immediately reaching to wrap his arm around your waist, pulling you close as you walked into the expansive, white-marbled kitchen. it was incredibly modern, very late 70s luxury, with sleek surfaces and warm wooden accents. you opened the freezer, pulling out the tub of ice cream while michael eagerly searched the pantry for bowls, spoons, and the main event—a fresh can of whipped cream.
"look at you, so eager," you teased, scooping heavy mounds of vanilla ice cream into two ceramic bowls.
michael stood beside you, holding the can of whipped cream like a prize, his cheeks flushing a faint pink at your teasing. "i just like sweet things," he whispered, stepping closer until his chest was brushing against your shoulder. "especially with you."
"oh, really?" you smirked, taking the can from his hands. you shook it vigorously, the rattling sound filling the quiet kitchen. you sprayed a massive, towering mountain of whipped cream onto your bowl, then did the same to his.
michael chuckled, a high, breathy sound that made your heart melt. "that's way too much, baby. we're gonna get a sugar rush."
"there's no such thing as too much," you said, and before he could react, you pressed the nozzle again, aiming it right at his nose.
a neat little dollop of white cream landed perfectly on the tip of his nose. michael froze, his eyes widening in shock. "mama!" he gasped, his voice cracking slightly in his shyness.
"you look cute," you giggled, leaning in. instead of wiping it away with a napkin, you leaned in close, your eyes locked onto his, and slowly licked the whipped cream off his nose. your tongue darted out, dragging over his warm skin, and you made sure to take your time.
michael’s breath hitched completely. his hands instantly went to your hips, his fingers digging into the soft silk of your nightgown. a heavy, dark look crossed his eyes, his shy exterior melting just a little bit under your intense gaze. "that... that wasn't very fair," he whispered, his voice dropping an octave, becoming deep and raspy.
"who said i play fair?" you whispered back. you shook the can again. michael watched you, his chest rising and falling heavily. you grabbed the back of his neck, your fingers tangling into the soft curls at the nape of his neck, and gently but firmly pulled his head back. his neck arched beautifully, exposing his throat.
"open up, baby," you commanded softly.
michael didn't hesitate. he was so beautifully submissive to you, his lips parting as he looked up at you with completely trusting, desperate eyes. you positioned the can over his mouth and pressed down, filling his mouth with the sweet, fluffy whipped cream. a little bit of it spilled over his bottom lip, dripping down his chin. before he could even swallow, you leaned down and pressed your mouth to his.
the kiss was instant chaos, sloppy and incredibly wet, sweet with the taste of vanilla and sugar. you kissed him hard, your tongue sliding into his mouth, mixing with the whipped cream and driving him absolutely crazy. michael let out a muffled whimper against your mouth, his hands desperately sliding up your back, gripping the fabric of your nightgown as if he were drowning and you were his only lifeline. you swallowed the sweetness from his mouth, your lips sliding against his as he eagerly kissed you back, his touch needy and completely consumed by you.
when you finally pulled back, a thin string of saliva and melted cream connected your lips. michael’s lips were red and swollen, wet, and his eyes were completely glazed over. he looked so beautiful, his breath coming in short, ragged pants, his afro slightly disheveled.
"you're such a messy boy, michael," you teased, your voice a low, sultry purr.
"you made me like this," he whispered, his voice trembling slightly as he stared at your lips. "please kiss me again, mama. please."
"not yet," you smirked. you hopped up onto the marble counter, sitting right on the edge. you wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling his hips flush against yours. michael gasped at the sudden contact, his hands immediately finding their home on your thighs, squeezing them tightly.
you picked up the whipped cream can again. with a slow, deliberate movement, you sprayed a thick line of cream right over the collarbone of your silk nightgown, letting it drip down into the crevice of your chest.
"uh oh," you murmured, looking down at the mess, then looking back up at him with a heavy, teasing gaze. "we've made a mess, baby. you need to take this off."
michael’s eyes went wide, staring at the white cream against your skin. he swallowed hard, his throat bobbing. "off? your... your gown?"
"yes, michael. take it off me. right now."
his hands were shaking as he reached for the straps of your nightgown. he was so incredibly desperate, yet so gentle, terrified of ripping the delicate silk. he slowly slid the straps down your shoulders, his hot palms brushing against your bare skin, sending shivers down your spine. he pulled the gown down, exposing your breasts to the cool kitchen air. he let out a soft, shaky gasp, his eyes roving over your body with absolute, worshipful awe.
"you're so beautiful," he breathed, his voice barely a whisper. "so beautiful, mama. i don't... i don't deserve to look at you."
"you do, baby. now clean me up."
michael leaned in, his nose brushing against your skin. he began to lick the whipped cream off your collarbone, his tongue warm and rough, sending jolts of electricity straight to your core. he whimpered against your skin, his hands gripping your waist tighter, pulling you to the very edge of the counter. you sighed, your fingers tangling in his afro, pressing his head closer to your chest. "good boy, michael. just like that. you taste so sweet."
"i want more," he muttered against your skin, his voice desperate. "please, give me more."
you smirked, reaching behind you for the can. you shook it again, the sound making michael shiver. you slowly dragged the nozzle down your stomach, leaving a trail of white cream, all the way down, parting your legs wider as you coated your clit in a thick dollop of whipped cream.
michael let out a low groan, his forehead resting against your thigh for a second as he tried to compose himself. he was trembling, his entire body humming with desperate energy.
"please, mama," he begged, looking up at you, his eyes pleading. "let me. please let me clean it. i'll be so good for you."
"go ahead, baby. clean it all up for me."
michael didn't move for a second. he just stared down at the thick dollop of white cream sitting right against your wet, flushed skin, his chest rising and falling in shallow, ragged pants. his lips parted slightly, a tiny drop of saliva catching on his bottom lip.
michael didn't need to be told twice. he dropped to his knees between your legs, his hands gripping the back of your thighs to hold you open. he leaned in, his warm breath fanning over your wet skin before his tongue made contact.
"ah... michael," you gasped, throwing your head back. he was messy, completely uninhibited as he licked the cream off you. his tongue was wide and warm, swiping over your sensitive flesh, sucking the sweetness from your clit.
he wasn't being gentle anymore. his tongue was wide and heavy, flat-out lapping at you, completely uncaring of the mess he was making. he was sucking the whipped cream off your sensitive skin so hard it made a loud, wet, echoing squelch in the quiet room, the sound mixing with the soft vinyl music. his perfectly rounded afro pressed right against your inner thighs, leaving messy, sticky white trails on your skin as his head moved frantically.
"so sweet, god, mama," he mumbled, his voice completely wrecked and wet against your skin, not even pausing his tongue as he spoke. "you're so wet... let me get all of it. let me clean you, please..."
he made soft, wet, slurping noises that echoed in the quiet kitchen, completely shameless in his hunger. he looked up at you through his eyelashes, wanting to see the pleasure on your face, his tongue never stopping its relentless, wet rhythm.
"you like that?" he mumbled, his voice muffled against you. "you taste so good, mama. so sweet."
"yes, oh god, yes, michael..." he began to suck on your clit, his tongue swirling desperately, completely driven insane by the taste of you mixed with the sugar. your hands gripped his shoulders, your knuckles turning white as he drove you closer and closer to the edge. the pleasure was building too fast, too intense.
and then, you hit the peak. your body tensed, a loud gasp escaping your lips as you began to come, your walls pulsing around his tongue. but instead of slowing down, michael got carried away. he kept going, his tongue licking harder, faster, completely consuming you as you vibrated with pleasure.
your hips bucked off the counter, a loud, broken gasp escaping your lips as your walls began to pulse around his mouth. you thought he would slow down, but the feeling of your body tensing and squeezing around his tongue only drove him further over the edge.
michael completely lost his mind. his hands locked onto your hips harshly, his fingers digging into your flesh with a bruising, desperate grip that pinned you flat to the marble so you couldn't wiggle away.
"michael—wait, michael, stop—" you gasped, the sensation instantly turning into overwhelming, sharp electricity. you quickly sat up, your hands pushing at his shoulders to pull him away. "no, baby, wait, it's too much—"
you had to yank him, your heart hammering against your ribs, before he finally broke the suction. he stumbled back a couple of inches, panting heavily with his mouth open.
his lips were completely soaked, shining under the kitchen light, and a thick, sticky string of saliva and melted cream stretched from his tongue all the way down to your wet skin before snapping. his eyes were totally glossy, glazed over and unfocused, blinking up at you like he was slowly waking up from a trance.
his eyes were wide with panic, looking like a puppy that had just been scolded. "oh, god. i'm sorry, mama. i'm so sorry, did i hurt you? i got carried away, i'm so sorry—"
he stared at your shaking thighs, then down at his own hands which were still trembling on your hips. a look of pure panic washed over his face, his soft, submissive nature rushing back so fast it made his head spin. he scrambled backward on his knees, looking so small on the floor.
"i'm sorry, mama," he stammered, his voice cracking completely as he looked up at you with wide, tearful eyes. "i'm so sorry, did i hold you too hard? i didn't mean to pin you down, i just... you tasted so good, i forgot where i was. please don't be mad at me. please, baby."
"shh, baby, it's okay," you breathed, panting heavily as you pulled his face up to yours. you cupped his cheeks, wiping away some of the cream with your thumb. "you didn't hurt me. it was just... so good. i got overstimulated. you're just too good at this."
michael let out a shaky breath, his eyes softening as he leaned into your touch. "really? i didn't do bad?"
“you did perfect, baby," you whispered, leaning down to kiss him deeply. as you kissed him, your hand slid down his chest, moving past his stomach, and instantly paused when you felt the rock-hard length of him straining against his trousers. you pulled back just an inch, a knowing smirk playing on your lips.
"well, look at you," you murmured. "you're completely hard, baby. and you didn't even get to come yet."
michael’s face flushed a deep crimson, his eyes darting down. "i... i was just so focused on making you feel good," he whispered, his voice incredibly shy. "but i'm... i'm really desperate, mama. please."
you didn't say a word. you reached down, unbuckling his belt and slowly pulling his pants and underwear down, releasing his thick, hard length. he let out a soft whimper, his hips jerking forward slightly at the cool air.
you grabbed the whipped cream can one last time. you shook it, and with a slow, wicked grin, you sprayed a generous amount of warm, fluffy cream right down the shaft of his cock.
"oh, god," michael gasped, his head falling back, his eyes closing as his chest heaved. "mama... that's... oh, god."
you wrapped your hand around him, your palm instantly spreading the cream all over his hard skin. you began to stroke him, slowly at first, your grip tight and wet. michael let out a loud, high-pitched whimper, his knees buckling slightly as he leaned his forehead against yours. your lips were just inches apart, your breath mingling in the dark kitchen.
"look at me, baby," you commanded softly.
michael opened his eyes, they were swimming with tears of pleasure, completely desperate and filled with unadulterated love and need for you. "i'm looking," he gasped, his voice trembling. "mama, please... stroke me faster. i'm gonna... i'm gonna ruin myself."
"not yet, sweet boy," you whispered, kissing him softly, dragging your tongue over his bottom lip as you increased the speed of your hand. the whipped cream made a squelching, wet sound as you stroked him, your thumb occasionally rubbing over his tip, spreading his pre-cum with the cream.
"please, please, please," michael whimpered against your lips, his hips jerking helplessly into your hand. he was completely at your mercy, his voice a breathless string of desperate begs. "i love you so much, mama. please let me come. please."
michael let out a sharp, choked groan, his hips hitching upward instinctively, but you gripped his shaft tighter, halting his movement.
"ah—mama, please," he whimpered, his eyes flying open, completely wild and desperate as he looked up at you. his forehead was slick with sweat, his chest heaving. "why did you stop? please, i'm right there... i'm gonna burst."
"not yet, sweet boy," you murmured, keeping your hand firm and still around his cream-coated length. you leaned down until your lips were almost brushing his ear, your warm breath making his entire body shiver. "i want you to tell me how it feels. talk to me, michael."
"it... it hurts," he panted, his voice cracking, a tear of pure overstimulation slipping down his cheek. "it feels so tight, mama. your hand is so warm and... and the cream is so slippery. please, just let me push into your hand. i'll be so good for you."
"tell me what you want, baby. say it nicely."
you started to stroke him again, but agonizingly slow, just dragging your cream-slicked palm up to his head and twisting your thumb over his tip before slowly sliding back down. michael’s eyes rolled back, his hands clutching desperately at your thighs for support.
"i wan…i want to come for you," he sobbed out, completely stripped of all his pride. "i want to make a mess for you, mama. please, stroke me fast. just like you did before. please, baby, i can't take it anymore."
"you're doing so good for me, michael," you praised softly, bringing your lips back to his, kissing him deeply while your hand finally sped up. the wet, squelching sound of the whipped cream filled the quiet space between you. "that's it, let it go. tell me when you're ready."
"now, mama, right now—" he gasped against your mouth, his body locking up as he finally boiled over.
that was all it took. michael let out a loud, broken moan right into your mouth, his body locking up as he came, thick spurts of semen mixing with the melted whipped cream in your hand. he shivered violently, his forehead resting heavily on your shoulder as he gasped for air, his body completely spent.
you held him close, rubbing his back as he slowly calmed down, his breathing returning to a steady rhythm. minnie riperton’s voice was still softly playing in the background, a comforting, warm hum in the quiet night.
michael slowly pulled back, a soft, embarrassed chuckle escaping his lips as he looked down at the absolute mess on his pants, your legs, and your hands.
"we... we really made a mess, mama," he whispered, a sweet, shy smile on his face. you laughed, leaning forward to press a sweet kiss to his lips. “we did, baby. come on, let's go clean up."
✧ contains: fiancé!michael x reader, subby!mike, teasing, whimpering, whining, masturbation
✧ wc: 2,3k // masterlist
You were about to be married to the king of pop — well, personally you don’t see him only as the king of pop, what you also see is a loving husband — maybe a future father as well.
After months worth of planning the wedding, breaking off every sweat and creative liberties on the venue, the wedding dress, the rings — and so forth, the only thing left to do for you and your fiancé is to get loads of rest for the big day.
You had a full week before the special day. It was late at night — you finished doing your regular routine before heading to bed. “Now what’s this surprise for me Michael?” you said smilingly, sitting down at the edge of the bed.
Earlier that day Michael claimed he had prepared you a special surprise later tonight. You don’t know what to expect, but seeing Michael being all giddy getting up — walking to the other side of the room, was giving you a slight nervous feeling
He grabbed a wrapped up box that was sitting on an armchair, it had a bow and everything. “here, hope you like it” he said with a bright smile. You grab the box — it felt super light, pulling apart the ribbon and tearing off the wrapping paper you saw a peachy pink shade peaking through.
Your eyes widened, seeing the cursive engraving brand right on top “Michael what is….” “Agent Provocateur, thought you’d look good wearing one of these, and since it’s a new brand i got early access getting it — all for you”
Speechless, you’ve heard a new luxury lingerie brand was coming up — but barely anything was announced, and now your fiancé is giving it to you like this.
“Mikey isn’t this something you’d rather give me on our honeymoon…?” you smirked, Michael chuckled tilting his head “…yeah well — i just couldn’t wait and — take a look at it this way, I need to start getting used to my future wife wearing these things anyway” he explained.
You scoffed jokingly “right…” you kept giggling, Michael looked down briefly with a shy demeanor, looking like he had a second surprise “and that’s not the only thing… the rest of the week leading up to our wedding, you’ll get a new pair — and I want you to model it for me please”
Speechless again, you still had a smile on you, but didn’t know what to say. Michael subtly avert his eyes from your gaze, rubbing the back of his neck and everything. Something you’d like to point out about your fiancé is you could say he could be — perverted at times, and another thing is — no matter how long the relationship has been, he’s still always a bit shy and embarrassed to express let alone admit that. And you find that oddly engaging at most times.
“Okay, well — I'm gonna go try it out!” you blurted before walking to the bathroom, leaving Michael still a bit flustered by his own request.
You excitedly opened the box, revealing what set your fiancé had picked out for you. Picking it up, it was a simple black themed lacy pair — having subtle embroidery in the corners. You smiled, already loving the gift.
A few minutes later, Michael had already thrown out the gift wrapping and was about to sit back down to bed — then suddenly, you opened the bathroom door a bit louder than usual — catching Michael’s attention.
You leaned your body as your forearm rested onto the door frame, your hair was intentionally styled — and your skin was covered in shimmery body lotion, making it glow.
Michael was in awe of you. You smirked — walking closer to him, Michael sat himself back to bed, eyes never left you.
“What do you think..?” you turned left and right — tossing your hair, modeling the black lingerie. Michael swallowed his breath, still couldn’t believe that he was gonna marry this beauty. He licked his lips — then biting it, he looked up and down — taking every single detail you had.
“…baby you look — incredible” Michael breathed out as he stood up coming closer to you “oh i could just—“ as he stepped closer you stepped back. “what do you think you’re doing…?” you asked with a smile.
“w-what do you baby — I just wanna—“ Michael steps closer again, but only for you to stop him by pressing your hand on his chest.
“Michael don’t tell me you’ve forgotten our agreement months ago…” you grin, Michael was dumbfounded, he couldn’t think of an answer. You stepped closer to him slowly “no. physical. contact — until our wedding night” you reminded as you gently pushed the man back into bed.
Finally it hits him, the stupid idiotic agreement you both had while planning the wedding, no sex or any sexual contact until officially married starting now. “…W-wha — awh c’mon baby you can’t be serious…” Michael pleaded, his arms slammed into his lap “no touching Michael, we both agreed on this — you, put yourself into this situation, you just have to deal with and be patient” you state firmly.
That was just the beginning. From than on leading up to day three, you had just been modeling him the lingeries he gave you, with specific instructions on how he’d want you to pose — wanting specific angles to be done, but he always wanted to keep it discreet
He was perverted, but he still doesn't openly admit that, he deeply believes a gentleman — something he always claims himself to be — shouldn’t be doing or enjoying any of these acts other than sex. Every request he’d have or any reaction he would make, it’ll always make him shy or embarrassed — just like a teen boy discovering pornography for the first time.
But this isn’t some random hot model he found on a dirty magazine page, this is you — his fiancé, willing to do anything he’d ask, even though he’s forbidden to touch in any sexual way, he still trembles over the reality that he can express himself to you.
Following up you decided to do something bold, a cheeky mischievous grin grew on your face. On day three, you were cleaning the dinner table from last night's events — picking up dirty plates and such.
You wore a top that had a lower neckline — following some low rise shorts. “Baby I’m all set, I’m just about to leave” Michael entered the room, ready to head out. “Okay, don’t forget to drink your juice — let me go get it” you said and turned away, walking towards the counter.
As Michael watched to go, he accidentally took a peak at the small space where your skin showed between your shorts and top, his eyes slightly widened — spotting the string of lingerie he gave you on the night of day two.
He suddenly realized he didn’t feel as ready as before, his erection coming up. He quickly averted his eyes, trying not to look as you grabbed his usual orange juice — walking back to him.
Once he took the glass, he cleared his throat — pulling a smile, trying real hard to seem like he didn’t notice anything. But of course, he was bad at showing it — and you knew instantly, you smirked, watching him drink his juice. “See you tonight” you grabbed the empty glass, walking away, “…y-yeah” Michael stuttered, his eyes not letting go from the obvious underwear sticking out from your low rise shorts.
As each day goes by, you keep doing this. Wearing any tight see through clothing while doing your regular chores around the house, just so Michael could see the lingerie underneath. You found it awfully cute how hard he tries to hide it, him staring at you wearing a white semi transparent sundress, seeing the noticeable clash of color popping out.
One that seems to really push him over the edge, is you wearing short skirts — bending over to pick up something off the ground. Or when he found you in all fours on the carpet in the bedroom, sorting out your shoes that were accidentally thrown under the bed.
He didn’t try to hide his heavy breathing and mild whimpering, you turned your head over to your shoulder, catching him staring at your ass. “You need something honey…?” You asked, Michael immediately startled as you spoke, struggling to speak “I-I just wanted to grab something real quick” he responded.
It was now the sixth night, the final night you could sleep in together before you’ll have to separate getting ready for the wedding the day after.
You were in the bathroom — already prettied up, the only thing left to do was to see the lingerie your fiancé decides to surprise you with. Opening the box, you smiled widely.
The color was a velvet red, lacey pattering for your bra and thong, mixed with some black accent colors with the tiny bows. Not only that it had suspenders, having the same red color paired with black stockings. Looks like Michael had intentionally saved this one for last.
Michael sat there in bed, waiting patiently for you to reveal yourself. This week had been incredibly torturous for him, the fact that he could only look but couldn’t touch you was driving him insane, and the way you were teasing him the whole way wasn’t making it easier for him.
As the bathroom door opened, making Michael snap out of his own head, seeing you with the lingerie he chose — god he’ll never grow tired looking at you like this.
You stood there at the edge of the bed, spinning around slowly so Michael could see all the angles. He sighed, his breath taken away by your beauty, he palmed his erection poking out from his pajamas, biting his lip along the way.
“You like what you’re seeing baby” you smirked, “…mhm” Michael nodded his head, words failed to form — expressing his exact emotion. “Well, tonight’s our last night together Mikey so…” you then crawled into bed — catching Michael off guard “you should make it count” your knees dipped onto the bed, you were now in between Michael’s legs which are now spread further apart now that you’re inches closer.
“B-baby what are you—“ “If you want to pleasure yourself — now’s the time to do it.” You cut him off abruptly, Michael opened his mouth with no words coming out, “I-i… but…” he still hesitated. You chewed the inside of your cheek, realizing your future husband needs a little more push.
You bend down — now on all fours, you then reach over to Michael’s ear “Michael… If we're gonna get married, I need you to be open with me. Not just sex, I need to see all of you — and your desires, you won’t be any less of a gentleman I promise you” you gently whispered to his ear.
After that soft tender wake up call from you, Michael shut his eyes — exhaling a long shaky sigh — following a nod. He quickly pulled out his painfully rock hard cock out of his pajamas — his hands beginning to stroke “god baby you're so sexy…” Michael sighed out.
“Oh yeah…?” You continue to whisper “what do you want Michael…” you raise the question. As Michael kept pumping his cock — his breath also strangled “I want… to fuck you… so so much” he whined, “how?” You questioned again.
Michael’s eyes fluttered, “…on t-this bed” you tilt your head “is that all…?” “No- I-I want… to bend you over… on the carpet floor…” he described, you smiled looking quite pleased with his answer “anything else…?” You reeled him again
“W-whenever—you do the chores… w-wearing this underneath… I just need—to fuck you baby, I need it… in the kitchen, living room… I need to get my hands on you…” you bite down your lip, couldn’t help but get turned on by Michael’s clear description on how he desperately wants you.
“Is that so…?” You keep your composure “…y-yeah…” Michael mewled, his pumping became more and more aggressive as he thought about all those things he said, it felt so real, he was so close, you were right there. Michael’s brows furrowed, he was getting dizzy — his head started to lean against yours, he wanted to feel your soft skin so bad .
Your face gently nudged his leaning head — pushing it away and encouraging him to stay composed “no touching remember” you smiled, eyes shut. Michael whimpered, you had to admit it it was difficult even for you to keep up the agreement, seeing Michael like this.
“Baby… please, just one kiss — please, I need it” he begged, you paused for a moment, letting a few more seconds pass “…alright, since you asked so nicely, one kiss” you crept closer, your tongue hitting Michael’s cheek for a mere second before you lips gently gave him a long peck.
You then dragged your lips over to his ear —slowly parting away, “cum for me Michael…” you whispered in a sultry voice. God you just knew how to pull his strings, Michael moaned, as he kept stroking at a faster pace, hanging over the edge. He glanced at your outfit, seeing the red lacy lingerie and the black stockings, you were perfect. After a few more pumps Michael released himself — groaning, his cum coating his hand.
He collected his breath, resting his back more in the pillows behind him. “You did so good baby, just one more night — okay” you praised him, Michael lazily nodded his head “…and I can’t wait for that” he smiled.
✦ premise ... 𝐒𝐇𝐄’𝐒 𝐒𝐎 𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓 ★ michael's had enough of everyone else for one day. by the time he gets home, all he wants is you.
✦ contains ... ( smut w little plot ) softdom!mj, established relationship, oral ( f!receiving ), fingering, over stim, no use of y/n, praising, spit play ( if you squint ), pet names
✦ adore’s note ... read that michael’s fingers were 5 inches…got excited. rush writing, sorry if you can tell and there’s repetition.
requested ﹒ @3leni (not req, but inspired by) ♡
The world outside the windows of your apartment had faded to a dull, distant hum. Inside, the only sounds were the frantic, synthesized score from the television and the wet, soft sounds of your mouths meeting, parting, and meeting again. The Texas Chainsaw Massacre played on, forgotten, its screams and buzzing chainsaws a bizarre, irrelevant soundtrack to the kiss that was slowly consuming you.
Michael’s hand was warm on the back of your neck, his thumb stroking a slow, hypnotic rhythm against your skin. He tasted of peppermint tea and the faint, lingering sweetness of the chocolate he’d been nibbling on earlier. His other arm was wrapped tight around your waist, pulling you closer until you were half in his lap, a tangled mess of limbs and shared body heat on the plush, cream-colored couch.
“You’re not watching the movie, angel,” he murmured against your lips, a low, happy rumble that vibrated through your entire body.
“I’m watching something much more interesting,” you breathed, your fingers tangling in the soft hair at the nape of his neck.
He chuckled, a low, throaty sound that made your toes curl. “Is that so?” He pulled back just enough to look at you, his dark eyes soft in the flickering light of the television. They were filled with a warmth, a gentle affection that made your heart ache. He was so beautiful like this—unburdened, relaxed, with the faint shadow of a day’s exhaustion beginning to soften the sharp angles of his face. The hard, public mask of Michael, the superstar, had melted away, leaving only Mikey. Your Mikey.
“Mmhmm,” you hummed, leaning in to press a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Much, much more interesting.” He smiled, a genuine, easy curve of his lips that was reserved only for you. He shifted, his movements fluid and deliberate, disentangling himself just enough to turn off the television with a click of the remote. The room plunged into a sudden, intimate silence, broken only by the soft patter of rain against the windows. “Good,” he whispered, his gaze heavy on yours. “I’ve had enough of everyone else for one day.”
And then he was kissing you again, and this kiss was different. It was deeper, slower, a deliberate exploration. He wasn’t just kissing you; he was claiming you, branding you, staking a possession that was as comforting as it was thrilling. His tongue swept against yours, a soft, insistent pressure that made a soft moan escape your lips. He swallowed the sound, a low growl of approval rumbling in his chest.
His hands began to wander, tracing the curve of your spine, the dip of your waist, the swell of your hip. His touch was a slow, deliberate fire, searing through the thin cotton of your t-shirt and leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. “You feel so good, my love,” he murmured, his lips trailing a path of hot, open-mouthed kisses down your neck. He nipped at the sensitive skin just above your collarbone, a sharp, pleasurable sting that made you gasp. “S’perfect.”
Your head fell back, giving him better access, your fingers tightening in his hair. “Mikey…” you breathed, his name a prayer on your lips. “Shh, sweetheart,” he soothed, his voice a low, hypnotic whisper. “Just let me take care of you.”
He shifted again, his movements strong and sure, lifting you effortlessly as if you weighed nothing. He settled you back against the couch cushions, positioning himself over you, his knees bracketing your hips. He caged you in, a comforting weight that anchored you to the world. He looked down at you, his expression a mixture of raw desire and tender reverence. “You’re s’beautiful,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “All mine.”
And then he was pulling your t-shirt over your head, the cool air of the room a shock against your heated skin. His eyes roamed over you, a slow, appreciative gaze that made you feel more beautiful, more desired, than you had ever felt in your entire life.
He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to the hollow of your throat, then another to the swell of your breast. His hands were on you again, tracing the lacy edge of your bra, his thumbs brushing against the sensitive skin beneath. He was teasing you, drawing out the anticipation, building a slow, burning fire deep in your core. “Please, Mikey,” you whimpered, arching your back, a silent plea for more.
“What do you want, angel?” he asked, his voice a low, smug purr. “Tell me.”
“You,” you gasped. “I want t’feel you.” He chuckled, a low, triumphant sound. “You already can, my love. All of me.” And with that, he unhooked your bra, his fingers deft and sure. He tossed it aside, his eyes darkening as they took in the sight of you, naked from the waist up. He lowered his head, his tongue darting out to flick against one pebbled nipple. A jolt of pure, unadulterated pleasure shot through you, and you cried out, your hips bucking involuntarily.
He did it again, this time taking the sensitive bud into his mouth, sucking gently, his tongue swirling in a slow, maddening rhythm. His other hand came up to cup your other breast, his thumb and forefinger rolling the nipple between them, mirroring the rhythm of his mouth. You were a mess of sensation, a symphony of pleasure that was building to a crescendo. Your hands were everywhere, tangling in his hair, gripping his shoulders, digging your nails into his back. You were lost, adrift in a sea of sensation, and he was your only anchor.
He released your nipple with a soft, wet pop, a thin strand of saliva connecting his lips to your skin. He looked up at you, a slow, satisfied smile on his face. “You like that?” he asked, his voice a low, husky rumble.
You could only nod, your breath caught in your throat. “Good,” he said, his eyes gleaming with a predatory light. “Because I’m not even close to being done with you.” He began to kiss his way down your body, a slow, deliberate path of hot, open-mouthed kisses. He traced the curve of your ribs, the dip of your navel, the soft swell of your belly. His hands followed, stroking, caressing, learning every inch of you.
He reached the waistband of your pajama pants, his fingers hooking into the elastic. He paused, looking up at you, a question in his eyes. “May I?” he asked, his voice a soft, respectful whisper. “Yes,” you breathed, your heart pounding in your chest. “Yes, Mickey, please.”
He slowly, tantalizingly, pulled down your pants and your panties, baring you to his gaze. He tossed them aside, his eyes darkening as he took in the sight of you, completely and utterly vulnerable before him. He settled between your legs, his shoulders pushing your thighs apart. He looked up at you, his expression a mixture of raw desire and tender reverence.
“You’re s’beautiful,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “And you’re all mine.” And then he lowered his head, and the world fell away. The first touch of his tongue against your core was a shock, a jolt of pure, unadulterated pleasure that stole your breath. He was hesitant at first, exploring, learning. But then he grew bolder, his tongue moving with a confidence that was both thrilling and terrifying.
He found your bud, that sensitive bundle of nerves, and began to circle it with the tip of his tongue. A soft moan escaped your lips, your hips bucking involuntarily. He chuckled, a low, triumphant sound, and then he took the sensitive bud into his mouth, sucking gently. You cried out, your hands flying to his hair, your fingers tangling in the soft strands. He growled, a low, approving sound, and began to suck in earnest, his tongue swirling in a slow, maddening rhythm.
He released your button with a soft, wet pop, a thin strand of saliva connecting his lips to your skin. He looked up at you, a slow, satisfied smile on his face. “You taste s’good, angel,” he said, his voice a low, husky rumble. “S’sweet.”
He then brought one of his hands up, his long, elegant fingers tracing a path up your inner thigh. You shivered in anticipation, your breath catching in your throat. He paused, his fingers hovering over your entrance, a silent question in his eyes. “Please,” you whimpered, your hips arching off the couch. He chuckled, a low, triumphant sound. “Patience, my love. Good things come t’those who wait.”
He slowly, deliberately, slid one finger inside you. A low groan escaped your lips as your body stretched to accommodate him. He was so long, so slender, and he felt impossibly good. “You’re s’tight for me,” he murmured, his voice a low, hypnotic whisper. “S’precious.”
He began to move his finger, a slow, in-and-out rhythm that was both maddening and exquisite. He was teasing you, drawing out the anticipation, building a slow, burning fire deep in your core.
He added a second finger, the stretch a delicious, ache that made you gasp. He curled his fingers, finding that sensitive spot deep inside you, and a jolt of pure, unadulterated pleasure shot through you. “Mikey…” you gasped, your back arching off the couch. “Oh, God, Mikey…” “Right there, my love?” he asked, a smug, satisfied smile on his face. “Right there,” you panted, your hips bucking against his hand.
He added a third finger, the stretch a sharp, pleasurable burn that made you cry out. You were so full, so stretched, and it felt so good. He was a master, a virtuoso, and you were his instrument, and he was playing you with a skill that was both humbling and awe-inspiring. “You’re taking me s’well, angel,” he praised, his voice a low, husky rumble. “You’re such a good girl.”
His words were a potent aphrodisiac, a balm to your soul and a spark to your desire. You felt a surge of confidence, of power, and you began to move your hips, meeting his thrusts, taking him deeper. He growled, a low, approving sound, and then he added a fourth finger. The stretch was intense, a sharp, stinging burn that teetered on the edge of pain. You cried out, your hands gripping the cushions of the couch, your knuckles white.
“Shh, sweetheart,” he soothed, his lips pressing a soft kiss to your inner thigh. “Just relax. Breathe for me. Y’can take it. I know you can.” His voice was a calming balm, a hypnotic anchor in the storm of sensation. You took a deep breath, forcing yourself to relax, to trust him. He was patient, giving you a moment to adjust before he began to move again.
He started with a slow, gentle rhythm, a slow, in-and-out motion that was both maddening and exquisite. He was stretching you, opening you, claiming you in the most intimate way possible. The sounds were wet, slick, a obscene, beautiful symphony of your shared desire. “Look at you,” he murmured, his dark eyes fixed on the place where his body disappeared into yours. “So beautiful. So perfect. All mine.”
His praise was a powerful drug, and you were addicted. You felt a surge of pride, of a deep, primal satisfaction at being able to please him, at being able to take all of him. He began to move faster, his thrusts becoming deeper, more demanding. The pleasure was building, a slow, burning wave that was threatening to crash over you. You could feel the tension coiling in your belly, a tight, hot knot that was waiting to be released.
“Please, Mikey,” you whimpered, your hips bucking against his hand. “Please…” “What do you want, angel?” he asked, his voice a low, smug purr. “You gotta tell me you want.”
“To come,” you gasped. “I want you t’make me come.” He chuckled, a low, triumphant sound. “As you wish, my love.” He lowered his head, his tongue finding your clit again. He began to suck, a hard, demanding rhythm that matched the thrusts of his fingers. The dual stimulation was overwhelming, a sensory overload that sent you hurtling towards the edge.
The wave crested, a tsunami of pure, unadulterated pleasure that crashed over you, stealing your breath and shattering your world. You cried out his name, a raw, primal scream that was torn from the depths of your soul. Your body convulsed, your back arching off the couch, your inner walls clamping down on his fingers in a series of powerful, rhythmic spasms.
He rode you through it, his mouth and fingers never ceasing their relentless assault. He was drawing out your orgasm, prolonging the pleasure, pushing you to the brink of overstimulation.
Just as you thought you couldn’t take any more, he slowed his movements, his touch becoming softer, gentler. He lapped at you, a slow, tender rhythm that was as comforting as it was erotic. He was cleaning you, worshipping you, a silent, reverent tribute to your shared pleasure.
Finally, he pulled away, a slow, deliberate withdrawal that left you feeling empty and aching. He looked up at you, a slow, satisfied smile on his face. His chin was glistening with your essence, a messy, beautiful testament to your desire.
He crawled up your body, his movements fluid and graceful. He caged you in, a comforting weight that anchored you to the world. He lowered his head, his lips finding yours in a slow, deep kiss. You could taste yourself on his tongue, a heady, musky flavor that was both foreign and familiar. It was a primal, intimate act, a sharing of the most fundamental parts of yourselves.
He broke the kiss, resting his forehead against yours. “I love you, angel,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “I love you, too, Michael,” you breathed, your heart swelling with a love so intense it was almost painful.
He settled back against the couch cushions, pulling you into his arms. You rested your head on his chest, the steady beat of his heart a slow, reassuring rhythm against your ear. He picked up the remote, turning the television back on. The Texas Chainsaw Massacre flickered to life, its screams and buzzing chainsaws once again filling the room.
You watched the movie for a few minutes, but your mind was elsewhere. You could still feel the ghost of his touch, the lingering ache of your pleasure. You wanted more. You wanted all of him. You shifted, your thigh brushing against the hard, insistent length of his arousal. He was still fully clothed, the rough denim of his jeans a stark contrast to your naked skin. “Michael,” you whispered, your voice a soft, pleading murmur. “Hmm?” he asked, his eyes still fixed on the television. “You’re… you’re still…” you trailed off, unable to finish the sentence. He chuckled, a low, throaty sound that made your toes curl. “I know.”
You shifted again, a deliberate, inviting pressure against his hardness. “Don’t you want to…?” you asked, your voice a hopeful, breathy thing. He finally looked down at you, a slow, easy smile spreading across his face. His eyes were dark, but they were filled with a warm, tender affection, not the raw desire from before. “Not now, my love,” he said, his voice a soft, gentle command. “Let’s just watch the movie.”
“But…”
“No buts,” he said, a firm but playful tone in his voice. He pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head. “I just spent the last hour giving you exactly what you needed. Now it’s my turn to just hold you.” He laughed, a light, airy sound that was full of genuine amusement. “We’ll get there.” You pouted, a childish, petulant gesture that you knew would make him laugh. He did, a low, rumbling sound that vibrated through your entire body.
“Don’t you give me that look, angel,” he said, a mock-stern expression on his face. “You know it doesn’t work on me.” “It works a little,” you mumbled, a sullen pout still on your face. He laughed again, a full, rich sound that was like music to your ears. “Oh, angel,” he said, his voice soft and full of affection. “What am I going to do with you?”
“You could do a lot of things,” you said, a suggestive glint in your eye. He shook his head, a slow, deliberate gesture. “Nope,” he said, a smug little smile on his face. “We’re watching the movie. And you’re going to like it.” You settled back against his chest, a soft, contented sigh escaping your lips. You knew he was right. This was what you needed, too. Not the frantic, desperate passion, but the quiet, settled intimacy. The simple, profound comfort of being held by the man you loved.
waiting up for your husband wasn’t unusual. hearing another woman’s voice on the other end of his phone was. sometimes, all it takes is an honest conversation—and a little reassurance—to remember where michael’s heart truly belongs.
.ೀ smut . ⊹ mdni 𑣲 mature era!michael. husband!michael. married couple. established relationship. brief mention of lisa marie presley. possessive undertones. domestic fluff. makeup sex. oral (f receiving & m receiving). unprotected sex. p in v. riding. soft dom!reader. submissive!michael. pet names; baby, darlin’, love, sweetheart. cockwarming. fluff & smut.
wk 2.8k
You were cleaning up around the house late at night, waiting for your husband to get home. The house wasn’t terribly messy but you were enough to fix up things here and there.
As you were about to head into the kitchen to fix yourself a snack, the phone rang.
“Hello?” you answered, “Baby? baby, I might be a little late tonight I—” assuming he was just working terribly late at night again until you heard another voice on the other end.
“Michael, who are you talking to?” it was a woman, now why the hell was he with another woman? when you were sitting around waiting for him to come home.
“Mike, who is that?” you answered, your tone was stern and filled with curiosity, Michael on the other hand was calm “Ah- can you back up?” He was talking to the other woman on the line again.
“Lisa—” Then you heard him laugh, he was laughing. And he was with Lisa Marie fucking Presley.
“LISA?” You questioned. “Michael, what the fuck are you doing with Lisa?” You questioned him, there was just rigging on the other line. “Baby, I’ll call you back- Or I’ll see you when I get home!” The line went dead, you gawked as you just looked at the phone.
“That bitch.” You muttered, you were really more mad at Michael than anything, hanging around another woman. Interesting.
You pushed yourself back up from the one-seater sofa and back into the kitchen, looking in the fridge for a small meal to make, instead, grabbing your yogurt parfaits.
“Lisa Marie Presley.” You muttered as you walked to the other end, opening up the cutlery drawer. “With my man?” You scoffed as you grabbed yourself a spoon. Sitting at the table. Taking large bites of your yogurt parfait.
You could hear rummaging at the front door, Michael. What are you gonna do with him?
“Sweetheart!” He called from the front door, closing it behind him. You stayed waiting in the kitchen still taking bites of your yogurt. The sound of his shoes clicking against the floor as they gradually got louder.
“Baby?” he called again, walking a little closer before stopping a few feet away. You only gave him a cold glare before looking back down at your snack, taking another bite like he wasn’t worth your attention.
“Didn’t you hear me calling you?” he asked, stepping beside you. His familiar cologne hit you instantly, but it wasn’t the only scent clinging to him. Mixed in with it was a woman’s perfume—sweet, and expensive. It made your stomach twist.
Michael leaned down, trying to press a kiss against the side of your head, but you pulled away before he could. He froze for a second, his brows knitting together as he searched your face, clearly realizing something was wrong.
There was a silence for a few seconds, he just looked at you. His brows knitting together. “Your foods in the fridge.” You say finally breaking the silence, he didn’t budge. “You can warm it up when you’re hungry.”
Getting up from the table, you threw your half-eaten yogurt parfait into the trash before rinsing off the spoon. Michael just stood there watching you move around the kitchen. He knew you were angry, and judging by the guilty look creeping across his face, he knew exactly why.
“Sweetie… are you upset?” Michael called after you, but you continued minding your own business as you walked upstairs toward your bedroom.
He didn’t follow you. No footsteps behind you, no calling your name again, no trying to stop you. That almost upset you even more. You wanted him to come after you, to explain himself, to tell you there was nothing going on. Instead, he stayed downstairs, and all you could do was think, ‘That’s fine’ ‘I hope he sleeps down there’ ‘Pathetic.’
You laid back against the pillows, trying to convince yourself that you didn’t care and if he made his way up here you wouldn’t have an attitude. You were laying in silence, had he actually decided to just leave you alone? no, knowing michael, you know he’d come up here apologizing, trying to reason with you. telling you there was nothing going on between him and Lisa.
Just as you were about to roll over and turn the lamp off, you heard the familiar creak of the stairs followed by slow footsteps making their way down the hallway towards the bedroom.
The door slowly opened, Michael walked in closing the door besides him as he loosened his tie walking over to the bed sitting himself down to make himself comfortable. You heard him sigh.
“Baby.” He said in a gentle demeanor, “are you gon’ tell me what’s wrong?” Here he goes, asking the same dumb question.
“You know what’s wrong, don’t give me that.” You said, trying your hardest to keep your composure. You pushed yourself up from where you were lying, sitting against the headboard as you looked at him. Your arms crossed as you waited for a response.
“There’s nothin’ going on between me and Lisa— she just happened to come over—” What a bullshit excuse you thought to yourself, “happened to come over?” you rolled your eyes “for what? does she still have feelings for you?” Michael just put his head in his hands as he groaned.
“Why are you the one stressed out?” You cocked your head at him.
“ ‘Cause you aren’t lettin’ me explain, can you chill out for jus’ a minute?”He looked at you, all you could do was nod.
“Fine.” You shuffled around on the bed, getting yourself comfortable against the headboard while keeping your arms folded. You’d hear him out, but that didn’t mean you weren’t still upset.
“She came over, she— told me that she missed me and, I’m pretty sure she was drunk. I mean—” You studied Michael’s face as he explained everything. The slight furrow in his brows, the tired look in his eyes, the way he kept stumbling over his words trying to make sure he said the right thing. Deep down, you knew he wasn’t bullshitting.
“She was slurrin’ her words like crazy— baby, I would never do anythin’ to intentionally hurt you, especially hang around Lisa.” He shook his head. “You’re my girl. Mine.”
He was looking directly at you now, his expression soft, sincere, and filled with nothing but love. Your heart hated how easily those words got to you.
The sight of him alone was enough to make the knot in your chest loosen just a little, but you weren’t about to let him off that easily.
“So why was she in the car with you?” You looked him up and down, raising an eyebrow.
“Sweetheart, she was drunk, I offered her a ride home.” He said it like it was no big deal.
“She couldn’t just get a cab or somethin’?” You retorted back and he just rolled his eyes and smiled.
“I’m not gonna make her wait for a cab.” You knew that, Michael wasn’t that type of man. If somebody needed help, he’d help them without thinking twice. It wasn’t the ride home that bothered you—it was the fact that it was Lisa. Out of all people… Lisa.
“Fine, that’s fair…” you admitted with a reluctant sigh. “But she was touchin’ all up on you in that car. I can smell her perfume on you.” The thought alone made your stomach twist all over again.
“Baby—” Michael paused, not immediately having an answer this time. He knew you had a point. Looking back on it now, he probably should’ve had one of his security guards take her home instead.
With another quiet sigh, he rolled over on the bed, scooching himself closer until he was right beside you.
He reached for your leg, pressing a soft kiss just above your knee. He started pressing soft kisses on your leg.
“What— Mike, don’t start.” You instinctively tucked your leg underneath you before he could kiss it again, earning yourself a pair of big brown doe eyes looking up at you. He couldn’t help but smile a little.
“The only woman I want to be with is you.” He murmured, as he lifted himself up to get closer to you, placing a bare kiss onto your thigh, then the corner of your lips.
“I love you.” he whispered, his breath fanning against your lips. “Love you too.” You said, smiling back at him. “Don’t let that woman back in your car again.” He laughed at that, but you weren’t kidding.
“Kiss me s’more.” You said, he looked at you for a second with another smile forming on his lips.
“Baby…” he chuckled quietly. “I gotta wash up first.” You could hear the hint of shyness in his voice, making you grin.
“You can wash up later…” you whispered, leaning in to place a lingering kiss against his cheek. Gently cupping his face, you turned him back toward you, pressing another soft kiss to the tip of his nose before capturing his lips again.
You gave him a soft grin, “gettin’ shy already?” you teased him, “Darlin’…”
You only smiled wider before trailing gentle kisses along his jaw, lingering there for a moment before making your way toward his neck. Your fingers slowly loosened his tie, sliding it free before beginning to unbutton the top of his shirt so you could leave another kiss along his collarbone.
You’d missed him.
After sitting around the house waiting for him all night, worrying yourself sick over a phone call that turned out to be nothing, all you wanted now was him.
Michael let out the faintest whimper, his hands instinctively settling at your waist as he tilted his head ever so slightly.
You smiled to yourself, leaving one last lingering kiss before he gently caught your wrists, carefully pulling you back just enough to meet your eyes.
“Baby…” he breathed, his voice quieter now.
You smiled to yourself, leaving one last lingering kiss before he gently caught your wrists, carefully pulling you back just enough to meet your eyes.
“Baby…” he repeated, his cheeks faintly warm. “Let me take care of y’ first.”
Michael’s grip on your wrists tightened just a fraction. He leaned in again, this time taking full control of the kiss. His mouth pressed harder, lips parting yours as his tongue slid inside.
He guided you backward without breaking the contact, lowering you onto the bed until your back met the sheets. His body followed, chest pressing against yours.
One of his hands left your wrist and slid down your side. His palm moved over the silk of your pajama shorts, rubbing between your legs in slow circles.
The fabric pressed against you with each pass of his fingers. You bucked your hips up into his hand and he pulled back from the kiss just enough to speak.
“Needy aren’t you?” he asked, voice low and rough.
You nodded, hips rolling again against his palm. Michael kissed your jaw, then your neck, planting a line of kisses downward.
His fingers found the buttons of your silk pajama top and began undoing them one by one.
Each button gave way under his touch until the fabric parted, exposing your bare breasts, he planted lingering kisses, his mouth open and warm, tongue flicking over one nipple before moving to the other. You let out a hitched moan.
His kisses continued lower, over your stomach, until he reached the waistband of your silk shorts.
He pressed his lips right against the front of the shorts, kissing the fabric where it covered you. A soft sound left him.
His fingers hooked into the waistband as he tugged the shorts down your legs, leaving you bare. He settled between your thighs. “Fuck, you’re so wet.” he whispered, drawing one of his fingers along your wet slit, making you hiss. “Mike— please.”
His cock twitched at the sound of you begging, he leaned in, tongue dragging slowly over you. The first lick was long and deliberate. He licked again, firmer this time, swirling his tongue around your bundle of nerves before pressing inside.
“Shit, Mikey—” Your hands found his hair and tugged. The pull made him groan against you. You rolled your hips, rubbing yourself on his tongue, using his face as you chased the feeling.
Michael’s hands came up to grip your thighs, holding them open while you moved. “Cum in my mouth darlin’,” he said between licks. “Let me feel it.”
Your legs began to shake “I’m gonna- fuck—” you managed to breathe out. He pressed them down harder, keeping you pinned while his tongue worked faster along your core. The pressure built until it broke, your body clenching as you came on his tongue.
Michael kept licking through it, drawing every twitch out of you until your shaking eased, “good job, love.” He said as he kissed his way back up your body, mouth meeting yours again. You tasted yourself on his lips, bitter and sweet. When he pulled back you looked at him, panting, your eyes dazed with lust.
“Let me return the favor, baby,” you said.
“Wh— no, no, you shouldn’t.” He shook his head. “This is jus’ for you, it’s about you baby.” He placed another lingering kiss against your forehead. You hardly ever sucked Michael off, Michael never let you or he always refused.
“Please… I wanna make y’ feel good too.” you cooed at him, placing your hand on his cheek. Michael was shy at the thought of it, his face going warm, as he slowly nodded. “Fine..”
You ended up sliding down the bed until you were on your knees in front of him, the sight of you being down there was so pretty, he lazily tucked your hair behind your ear.
Your fingers found the button of his trousers and popped it open, then dragged the zipper down. You tugged the fabric lower and his cock sprang free, already hard, A bead of precum sat at the slit. Michael’s face flushed. If you were able to read Michael’s mind he’s probably thinking “why am I letting her do this.”
You wrapped your fingers around the base and rubbed the tip with your thumb, spreading the precum “shiiit.” Michael’s breath caught. You leaned in and took him into your mouth, tongue pressing along the underside as you sank down. He let out a shaky moan, hands hovering near your head like he wanted to grab but was holding back.
Bobbing your head on his length, you circled around his tip which made his hips buckle, “Fuck” he moaned, you placed your hand on his thigh as you took him further into your mouth, your moans vibrating on his cock.
When he was close his restraint broke. His fingers finally tangled in your hair, gripping tight as his hips jerked. He came with a stuttering moan, voice cracking.
“S-sorry—fuck—‘m sorry, I didn’t mean—ahh—sorry, sorry,” he gasped, still holding your head while he pulsed in your mouth. Cum spilled over your tongue in hot spurts.
You pulled off slowly, swallowing the thick coats of white. “It’s okay baby.” you reassured him, Michael’s chest heaved as you fully removed his troYou were wet and readyusers off of him.
You were aching for it as you pushed him back down onto the bed, you reached down, took his cock in your hand and gave it one last pump before lining him up against your slick heat.
You sank down onto him in one slow motion, taking every inch until your hips met his.
A broken moan left Michael the moment you were fully seated. You started with slow rolls of your hips, grinding down on him. His hands found your waist, fingers digging in.
You leaned forward, lips near his ear. “Lisa couldn’t fuck you like this. She won’t be able to fuck you this good.”
Michael’s eyes squeezed shut. “Y-yes… you’re so good to me. She’s nothing. You’re mine. All mine.” He was blubbering nonsense, a whiney mess as he whimpered underneath you, a smile spreading across your face as you picked up the pace.
Bouncing on his cock now. The wet sound of each drop filled the room. Michael’s moans turned into stuttering, whiny sounds every time you sank down fully.
“Fuck—baby, oh god—s-so tight—,” he babbled, voice cracking on every thrust. His hips twitched up to meet you but he let you stay in control, letting you ride him however you wanted.
“Shit.” you said as you used your other hand to rub circles around your clit.
“Cum wi—fuck, me” you managed to sputter out. He eagerly nodded yes as you were rolling and bouncing until his whole body tensed beneath you.
You came with a high, broken whine, cock pulsing deep inside you as he filled you. You kept moving through it, drawing every drop until he was spent and shaking.
When the last twitch faded you stayed seated on him, cock still buried inside, keeping him warm. Michael’s hands rested on your thighs, breathing ragged, eyes half-lidded as he looked up at you.
“Stay like this,” he whispered. “Just… stay.”
A/N ++ mature era michael you really do hold a special place in my heart
݁ ˖Ი𐑼⋆ Michael who loves making you squirt • Michael x reader
⤷ ゛Synopsis ˎˊ˗ Michael loves to make you squirt !
𑣲⋆ warnings : Fingering. Squirting. Overstim.
A/n: I woke up thinking abt this....
“C'mon, baby, do it one more time for me." His fingers were buried deep in your cunt. The lewd sounds of your moans mixed with the squelching of his fingers pumping in and out.
“Mikey—fuck, please, I can't," you whined, your back sinking against his chest with complete exhaustion. Your brain felt scrambled, your only thoughts consisting of his hand that gripped your thigh and the fingers that kept your pussy sucking him in for more.
"You're doing so good f'me” he cooed, kissing the shell of your ear, his fingers curling, making your eyes roll back, that they almost seemed to hurt and your thigh instinctively threatened to shut if only it wasn't for the iron grip Michael had on your thigh keeping them nice and wide.
It was already too much after your second time squirting without a break; your body was sensitive to every bit of touch. Your senses overloaded as your body convulsed, fingers digging into the fabric of his trousers so tight that you would've sworn you heard the fabric rip, but you were too fucked out to properly hear as you cried out.
“Oh my god, Michaell. " Your mouth fell open, your eyes squeezing shut as your hand moved from his thigh to his arm, gripping tightly as your walls clamped down on his fingers, signaling your long-awaited release.
Everything about the scene in front of you was dirty. From the way you could hear the faint sounds of Michael groaning to the liquid that sprayed across the sheets and down Michael's hand as his fingers kept a slow pace, riding out your high as you attempted to wiggle away too, overstimulated to be able to handle anymore of his fingers.
“Mikeyy, no more, damn, you're already doing too much," you spoke lazily, your words sounding shaky and exhausted as he let out a chuckle, finally slipping his fingers out of you.
library kiss!
sweet fluff skinship shy michael first kiss!
pairing: pre otw mj x fem!reader
summary: during your visit to hayvenhurst to see your boyfriend, michael, the two of you spend the day tucked away in the library. everything is quiet and comfortable until michael brings up randy's first kiss… and nervously asks if you'll let him have his first kiss with you.
the heavy iron gates of hayvenhurst estate creaked open as you walked up the driveway. it was a familiar path, but the house always buzzed with a chaotic, musical energy that felt worlds away from your own quiet neighborhood. as soon as you stepped into the foyer, you were greeted by the sound of laughter and a faint melody drifting from the living room.
you felt a sudden ripple of self-consciousness, smoothing down the hem of your white tank top. it was a simple outfit—just that, a pair of denim shorts, and your favorite worn-in sneakers—but the way the top hugged your frame made you feel a bit exposed in the bustling house. you kept your head slightly bowed, a habit you couldn't quite break when surrounded by so much noise and talent.
the house was alive. randy was sprawled on the sofa, aggressively arguing with marlon about a record they were holding.
"i'm telling you, the bassline is all wrong!" randy exclaimed, pointing at the cover.
marlon rolled his eyes, catching sight of you standing in the doorway. "don't listen to him, he's tone-deaf today. hey, look who it is! you're just in time to settle this, right?"
you offered a small, shy smile, your fingers twisting together at your waist. "don't drag me into your debates," you murmured softly, your voice barely rising above the hum of the house. "i just got here."
"she's smarter than both of you," janet chirped, walking past with latoya. janet stopped for a second, giving you a playful nudge that made you blush. "he's upstairs, by the way. looking like he hasn't seen the sun in three days."
"he’s been obsessed with that new rhythm section," latoya added with a knowing smile, smoothing her hair. "go save him from himself."
you nodded, your heart doing a little flutter at the mention of him. before you could head toward the stairs, a gentle hand rested on your shoulder. you turned to see katherine jackson, her expression radiating that signature warmth that always made you feel like you belonged here.
"hello, dear," she said softly, her eyes sweeping over your outfit with a motherly, approving glint. she reached out, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. "you look lovely today. and don't you worry about these boys, they’re just loud for the sake of it."
she handed you a small plate of warm, homemade cookies. "you look like you've had a long day. have one, it'll give you some energy. michael is upstairs, he’s been waiting for you to come by, even if he won't admit it out loud."
"thank you, katherine." you said, your voice just a whisper, feeling the heat bloom in your cheeks again. "you're too kind."
"go on," she shooed you gently, her eyes twinkling. "he needs the distraction. he's been pacing that room for hours."
you took a deep breath, clutching the plate of cookies like a shield, and navigated the staircase. your pulse quickened with every step. the hallway was quiet, the noise of the brothers fading into the background. you reached his bedroom door, which was slightly ajar, and peered inside.
the room was dimly lit, save for the warm glow of a lamp by the window. michael was sitting on the edge of his bed, his afro haloed by the soft light. he had a thick book resting on his knees, but he wasn't reading. he was staring out the window, his fingers tracing the edge of the book cover with a rhythmic, nervous energy.
you stood there for a moment, just watching him. he looked so beautifully lost in his own world. you took a tentative step forward, your sneaker squeaking ever so slightly on the floorboard.
michael jumped, his head snapping toward the door. when his eyes landed on you, his entire expression melted. the tension in his shoulders vanished, replaced by that bashful, genuine smile that made your knees feel a little weak. he didn't say a word at first, just looked at you—from your sneakers up to your eyes—with a mix of wonder and relief.
"you're here," he whispered, his voice soft and airy.
he finally stood up, but he stayed rooted to the spot, his hands diving into his pockets as if he didn't know what to do with them. he looked at you with such intense, shy adoration that you couldn't help but look down at your own feet, suddenly very interested in your shoelaces.
you stood there for a moment, shifting your weight from one foot to the other, your fingers still clutching the plate of cookies. the silence between you was thick, but not uncomfortable—it was charged with that electric, youthful shyness that only the two of you seemed to understand.
michael’s gaze lingered on you, his dark eyes tracing the line of your white tank top, then traveling down to your denim shorts and your bare legs. his breath hitched, and he quickly looked away, his cheeks flushing a deep, embarrassed crimson as he realized he’d been staring. he ran a hand through his afro, his fingers tangled in the dark, soft curls.
"you... you look really pretty," he murmured, his voice so quiet you almost missed it. he cleared his throat, his eyes darting back to yours for a split second before falling to the floor again. "i mean, you always look pretty, but... today, you're just, uh, really pretty. is that a new outfit?"
you felt your own face heat up, a shy smile pulling at your lips. you looked down at your sneakers. "oh. thank you, michael. it’s just something comfortable."
he took a small, hesitating step toward you, his hands still fidgeting in his pockets. "i was, uh... i was actually going to go read in the small library downstairs. i can't really focus in here today, with all the noise downstairs." he paused, looking at you with a hopeful, nervous expression. "would you... would you want to come? you don't have to, but, it’s quiet there."
"i'd love to," you whispered.
a bright, genuine beam broke across his face, and he seemed to relax just a fraction. he held the door open for you, his eyes darting to your legs once more as you walked past him. he let out a tiny, shaky breath, clearly overwhelmed by his own feelings.
as you walked together down the hallway, he didn't quite dare to hold your hand, but he stayed close—so close that your shoulders brushed every few seconds. his movements were clumsy, his usual grace replaced by a charming, youthful awkwardness.
"those are from my mom, aren't they?" he asked, nodding toward the plate of cookies in your hands. he chuckled softly, the sound light and airy. "she's always trying to feed everyone. but i’m glad she gave them to you."
when you reached the small library—a cozy, tucked-away corner of hayvenhurst filled with floor-to-ceiling shelves—he pulled out a plush, velvet chair for you before sinking onto the carpeted floor right by your feet. he leaned his back against your legs, his head resting against your knee for just a second before he quickly pulled back, looking up at you with those wide, doe-like eyes.
"sorry," he whispered, his heart hammering against his ribs. "is this... is this okay?"
you smiled, reaching out to gently brush a curl away from his forehead. "it's perfect, mikey."
the library was bathed in the golden, late-afternoon light, making the dust motes dance in the air around you. the room smelled like old paper and vanilla, a cozy sanctuary away from the chaos of the rest of the house.
michael shifted, his movements hesitant but deliberate. he turned around completely, sliding comfortably into the space between your legs as you sat on the velvet chair. you felt the warmth of him radiating through your shorts, and he let out a long, contented sigh, his shoulders finally dropping away from his ears as he leaned back against you.
you began to trace slow, soothing circles on his shoulders, feeling the tension melt away under your fingertips. "you're so tense, michael," you whispered softly.
he tilted his head back to look at you, his eyes dark and shimmering. "it's just... it's nice to be still," he murmured, his voice a low, melodic hum.
suddenly, a spark of excitement lit up his face. he scrambled up, his long legs moving with sudden energy as he darted toward a shelf he’d been eyeing earlier. he pulled out a weathered copy of peter pan, his eyes wide with a boyish wonder that made your heart melt. he hurried back, practically vibrating with enthusiasm, and held it out for you like it was a treasure map.
"look! i found this one again," he said, his voice jumping an octave. "it's my favorite. don't you think it's amazing? the idea of never having to grow up, just living in adventure and magic... it makes so much sense, doesn't it?"
you couldn't help it—you let out a bright, genuine giggle at how animated he became. his afro bounced with every word, and he was gesturing with his free hand, completely lost in the story. "you're really passionate about this, aren't you?"
he sat back down between your knees, his cheeks flushed not from embarrassment this time, but from pure, unadulterated excitement. "it's true, though," he insisted, though his smile turned bashful as he watched you laughing at him.
you watched him for a long beat, his features so soft in the fading light. his dark, afro framed his face, and his eyes were so earnest it made your chest ache. "you know," you said, your voice barely above a whisper, "you look incredibly handsome, mikey..."
the effect on him was immediate. the words seemed to hit him like a physical force. he froze, his smile faltering as a deep, rich red rushed up his neck and flooded his cheeks. he looked down at his lap, biting his lip, his fingers twisting the edge of the book cover. he looked so shy, so incredibly vulnerable, that it made you want to wrap him up and keep him there forever.
"you... you think so?" he asked, his voice cracking just a little. he didn't look up, his eyelashes casting long shadows on his flushed skin.
before you could respond, he suddenly reached up. his movements were quick, almost impulsive. he grabbed your hand, pulling it down from his shoulder, and pressed his face into your palm. he closed his eyes, taking a shaky breath, and then, with such tenderness that it took your breath away, he pressed a lingering, soft kiss right into the center of your palm.
his lips were warm, and his touch made your skin tingle all the way down to your toes. he didn't pull away, he stayed there for a moment, his forehead resting against your wrist, leaving you completely breathless in the quiet of the library.
the silence in the library felt like a soft blanket, holding you both in a little world of your own. you were still reeling from the feel of his lips against your palm, your heart drumming a steady, happy rhythm against your ribs.
you couldn't help it—he looked so incredibly endearing with his head bowed and those thick, dark lashes fluttering against his cheeks, still shy from his own boldness. leaning forward, you pressed a soft, lingering kiss to his cheek, right where the flush was deepest.
michael gasped, a tiny, startled sound, and his head snapped up to look at you. his eyes were wide, blinking rapidly, and his mouth fell open just a fraction. he looked completely stunned, as if he couldn't believe you had actually done that.
"you... you did that," he breathed out, his voice barely a whisper. a slow, sheepish smile started to spread across his face, and he let out a shy, melodic chuckle. "i wasn't expecting that."
you giggled, feeling your own face heat up. "you were just so quiet," you teased, your fingers gently playing with the collar of his shirt. "you looked like you needed a little something to break the tension."
he laughed then, a genuine, bubbling sound that filled the room. he reached up, covering his cheek with his hand as if to trap the feeling of your kiss there. "it worked," he admitted, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "it definitely worked. my heart is beating so fast now, i think it might jump right out of my chest."
"is that a bad thing?" you asked, tilting your head.
"no," he said quickly, reaching out to lace his fingers through yours. he pulled your hand back to his lap, holding it firmly between both of his own. "it's the best thing. i just... i don't really know how to be a person when you're looking at me like that."
you both started laughing, a soft, comfortable sound that echoed off the bookshelves. "you're such a dork, michael," you said, shaking your head.
"i'm not a dork," he defended, though he was grinning too hard to sound convincing. "i'm just... enchanted. is that the word? yeah, i think that's it."
he leaned back against your legs again, looking up at you with an expression so tender it made your throat tight. "tell me something," he whispered. "what do you see when you look at me? besides the music and all the stuff outside?"
you thought for a moment, tracing the line of his jaw with your thumb. "i see someone who just wants to share everything he loves," you said softly. "i see the boy who gets excited about peter pan and feels everything, like, ten times harder than anyone else. i see my best friend."
michael looked at you for a long time, his gaze searching your face with a quiet intensity. his thumb moved back and forth over the back of your hand, a slow, soothing motion. "you're the only one who really sees me," he murmured. "and that... that makes me feel like i can do anything."
he leaned his head back against your knee, letting out a long, happy sigh. "this is nice. can we just stay here for a while? forever, maybe?"
"forever is a long time, michael," you teased, though you shifted your legs to make him more comfortable.
he chuckled, closing his eyes. "i'm willing to wait," he whispered, a small, sleepy smile playing on his lips. "as long as you're here."
michael shifted slightly, his head still resting against your knee, but his playfulness seemed to dampen into something more thoughtful, almost contemplative. he stared up at the high ceiling of the library for a long moment, watching the shadows flicker.
"you know," he started, his voice dropping into that low, airy register he used when he was thinking deeply. "randy was bragging last week. about... well, about stuff."
you hummed softly, your fingers continuing to trace patterns on his shoulder. "bragging? about what, baby?"
michael let out a self-conscious huff, his gaze sliding toward the window. "about his first kiss. he was acting all grown up about it, saying how he knew what it was like now, as if it were some big secret he’d unlocked." he paused, biting his lip nervously. "i didn't really say anything, but... i couldn't stop thinking about it afterwards."
your hand stilled on his shoulder. you felt his heart skip a beat beneath your touch.
he turned his head, looking up at you from his spot on the floor. his eyes were wide, filled with that raw, transparent curiosity that was so quintessentially him. "is it really that different?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper. "i mean, i’ve seen it in movies, i’ve read about it in books, but... everyone talks about it like it changes everything."
he shifted so he was kneeling between your legs, bringing his face closer to yours. he looked terrified and exhilarated all at once, his hands trembling slightly as he reached out to tuck a stray lock of hair behind your ear.
"i’m just... i'm really curious," he admitted, his face flushing deep crimson again. "and i don't want to learn about it with anyone else. i don't think i could, really."
he looked down, then back up at your eyes, his voice cracking just a tiny bit. "would you... would you be okay with teaching me? i mean—if you want to. i don't want to pressure you, i just... i really want to know what it feels like to be that close to you."
his hands were hovering just inches from your waist, his fingers twitching with the urge to touch you but holding back, leaving the choice entirely to you. the air in the room felt heavy, charged with the nervous, sweet electricity of the moment.
"i want to, too," you whispered, leaning in just enough to bridge the distance.
a soft, breathy sound escaped his lips—half-sigh, half-laugh—as his eyes fluttered shut. he looked so fragile in his anticipation, his long lashes casting dark crescents on his cheeks. he slowly brought his hands to your waist, gripping the fabric of your tank top with gentle, trembling fingers as he tilted his head, waiting for you to lead the way.
the air in the library seemed to hum with anticipation. you leaned in, closing the final inch of space until your lips brushed against his.
michael went completely still. he was frozen, his entire body tensed as if he were afraid that if he moved a muscle, the moment would shatter like glass. you felt his hands grip the fabric at your waist, his knuckles white, holding on as if you were the only solid thing in his world. it was just a light, tentative pressure at first—a soft, fleeting kiss that barely touched the surface.
but when you tasted the faint, lingering sweetness of orange juice on his lips, you couldn't help yourself. it was such a simple, human detail that made him feel so incredibly real. a small, involuntary sound escaped your throat, and you couldn't resist. you parted your lips just slightly, grazing your tongue against his lower lip.
michael let out a sharp, startled intake of breath—a ragged, hitching sigh that vibrated against your mouth. he was clearly overwhelmed, his chest heaving as his composure began to fray.
you didn't let him retreat. you reached up, your fingers tangling into the soft, springy curls at the nape of his neck, pulling him closer to you. the movement was gentle but firm, guiding him. you began to tease his lower lip, gently suctioning it between your own, pouring all the tenderness you felt for him into the rhythm of the kiss.
the change in him was immediate. the stiffness left his frame, replaced by a desperate, fumbling eagerness. he began to mirror your movements, his kisses clumsy and hesitant at first, but growing more confident, more urgent as he realized you were reciprocating.
you opened your eyes for a split second, needing to see him.
michael’s face was a study in raw emotion. his eyes were squeezed shut, his long, dark lashes trembling against his skin. his brows were drawn together in a look of intense concentration, his mouth slightly parted as he tried to keep up with the new, confusing sensations flooding his senses. his breathing was ragged, his lips slightly swollen and glistening from the contact. he looked so completely lost in you, so utterly surrendered to the moment, that it made your heart ache with how much he trusted you.
he made a soft, whimpering sound in the back of his throat, his hands sliding from your waist up to your shoulders, pulling you toward him as if he wanted to dissolve into you. he was learning, his movements growing softer and more rhythmic, his lips pressing against yours with an intensity that spoke volumes of everything he couldn't put into words. the library, the world outside, the fame waiting for him—everything had ceased to exist, leaving only the two of you, tangled together in the golden light.
the kiss finally broke, not because you wanted it to, but because you both desperately needed to breathe. you pulled back just a few inches, your foreheads still resting against each other, both of you gasping for air. the silence returned to the library, but it was heavy now—charged with a new, lingering warmth.
you looked down at him, and your breath hitched. michael’s eyes slowly fluttered open, dark and dazed, still struggling to focus. there was a glistening sheen of moisture on his lower lip and a small trace of saliva trailing from the corner of his mouth down to his chin. you realized, with a sudden rush of heat to your own cheeks, that your chin looked exactly the same.
michael’s face was a masterpiece of embarrassment and wonder. his cheeks were glowing a deep, vibrant red that seemed to pulse under his skin. he looked down, noticing the moisture on your chin, and his eyes went wide. he reached up with a shaky hand, his thumb trembling as he shyly wiped your chin, then paused, his fingers lingering there for a second before he hurriedly wiped his own.
"wow," he whispered, his voice raspy and barely audible. he let out a short, nervous laugh that sounded more like a hiccup. "i... i had no idea."
you couldn't stop your own smile, even as your heart did a chaotic somersault in your chest. "no idea it would be like that?"
he shook his head, looking down at his lap and picking at the frayed edge of the book cover again. "it’s... it’s crazy. my head is spinning." he looked back up at you, his gaze searching your face with a mix of awe and lingering shyness. "i feel like i just ran a mile, but i’m just sitting here."
you giggled, your hand instinctively going to the back of his neck, your fingers carding through his afro. "that’s how it’s supposed to feel, michael."
michael let out a soft, melodic chuckle, but instead of pulling away, he leaned forward until his head rested directly against your chest. you could feel the rhythmic, erratic thumping of his heart drumming against your own. he buried his face deeper into the cotton of your white tank top, nuzzling against you with a gentle, humming purr of contentment. he let out a long, shaky sigh, his afro brushing softly against your skin as he rubbed his cheek back and forth against you, taking in your scent and the warmth of your skin. he stayed there for a long moment, simply soaking in the closeness, his breathing slowly evening out into a steady, grounding pace.
the playfulness returned as he tilted his head back, pulling away just enough to look up at you from under his thick, dark lashes. he looked so young and so utterly smitten, his expression so open and vulnerable that it made you feel like you were the only person in the world.
"you're still looking at me like that," he murmured, his voice turning soft and serious again, heavy with emotion.
"like what?" you whispered, your fingers tracing the soft curve of his ear.
"like... like you're not going to disappear," he said. he shifted, bringing his hands up to gently cup your face, his touch light and reverent, as if he were holding something incredibly fragile. he didn't look away, even though his face grew redder with every passing second, his dark eyes searching yours for an answer. "this is the best thing that’s ever happened to me, i think."
he paused, his tongue darting out to nervously wet his lips, his gaze dropping to yours with a shy, silent plea. the way he looked at you—with such earnest, wide-eyed adoration—was almost too much to handle.
"is it... is it okay if we do it again?" he asked, his voice cracking on the last word, his hands tightening just a fraction against your cheeks. "just one more time, for today? i want to make sure i didn't dream it."
i post too much omg 😭 like literally every single day. i just can't stop thinking about michael. every free minute i have goes straight into writing because i'm terrified god's gonna take my ideas away and give them to prince instead. LMFAOOO
summary: michael finds y/n’a diary and after having a little snoop, he bookmarks a few pages just for later…
masterlist
thinking about best!friend!michael who finds y/n’s diary on her bedside table one day, when she’s gone out into the garden to pick flowers with janet.
he knows it’s wrong to snoop, but he can’t help it, maybe a few pages won’t hurt, right?
oh, but the things he reads? he’d never have thought that y/n would be thinking all those things, especially not about him.
best!friend!michael who makes sure to bookmark a few pages that particularly interest him, so he knows which ones to come back to later.
he spends the rest of the day thinking about everything he’s read, waiting for the perfect opportunity to bring it up with y/n, to see how she’d react.
best!friend!michael who finds y/n in her room later in the evening, sat on her bed with a book laid open on her chest, turning the page every few minutes.
he drops the diary next to her, biting on the inside of his cheek as y/n stares at it, realisation filling her face as she notices how a few of the pages have the corners folded over.
“michael…” her voice trails off, her mind going to the exact things she had written inside of it.
best!friend!michael who somehow ends up with y/n’s skirt bunched up over her waist, his fingers dragging down her waist, the book laid open on the first page he’d folded the corner of.
y/n moans, his lips sucking on the sensitive part of her neck, tongue flicking against her pulse point, legs tight round his waist.
“read it t’me,” he groans into her ear, his dick throbbing in his trousers at the thought of her writing all those things, thinking no one would ever find them.
he watches how she stutters at first, trying to wriggle out of having to read it aloud.
he watches how her face burns in embarrassment - but where was that when she wrote such filthy little things in her diary?
best!friend!michael who nudges his knee against her burning core, making her gasp, her lips parting at the slight warning he gave her.
y/n eventually gives in, her shaky hands pulling the book closer to her, almost hiding her face behind it as her eyes focus on the first words, his hands still holding tight into her waist.
“d-dear diary,” she starts, still trying desperately to hide her face behind the book, “i had dinner r-round m-michael’s house today,”
she pauses when her eyes flicker onto the other half of the sentence, before he notices her stopping, his hands pausing on her waist.
“carry on,” he pushes his knee again as she whines, her head falling back into the plush pillows, “and don’t hide your pretty face from me,” he tugs the book out of her face so he can see her.
best!friend!michael who has to physically sink his teeth into his lower lip to stop him from moaning as she continues reading, “…a-and he…he looked s’good at dinner, and…i never realised how long his fingers were,”
he could physically see her face go all flushed as she read the words aloud. “y’were thinkin’ about my hands while we was having’ dinner?” he watched y/n’s eyes drop down to her skirt, so she didn’t have to look at him.
“while my own mother was sat opposite you,” he hums, hand sliding down between her thighs, “how about we make that little fantasy of yours a reality?”
y/n barely has any time to react before his long fingers hook under the waistband of her panties, soaked from being so close to him, before he drags one finger along her pussy, collecting her arousal on the tip of his finger.
best!friend!michael who watches her squirm as he brings his finger to his mouth, tasting her sweetness against his tongue as he groans, making sure to savour every last drop of it.
“please…mike,” she moans as he moves his hand back between her legs, tracing gentle circles round her throbbing clit, almost teasing her, before he moves it down, ghosting over her entrance.
“so wet…this all f’me?” he leans downs his voice low, y/n’s head tipping back into the pillow as he nudges her clit with his knuckle, “needy thing,”
he uses his other hand to hold her stomach down before he slides one long, slender into her tight hole, letting her warmth envelope him as she moans, back arching slightly, eyes fluttering closed.
best!friend!michael who pushes into her til he settles knuckle-deep into her pussy, bending his finger as he watches her face contort with pleasure.
“so damn tight,” he whispers, her pussy clamping round him, “don’t think my dick’s gonna fit,”
y/n responds with a moan as he moves his other hand to her clit, rubbing messy circles into her sensitive bud, pumping his finger in and out of her slowly.
he curls his finger in the perfect spot, making y/n gasp and buck against his hand, before he pushed another finger in.
“god, you’re so perfect,” he groans, her teeth catching her earlobe as she hissed, eyes fluttering closed.
her back arches further, right til he settles knuckle-deep inside of her, his fingers doing a scissoring motion inside of her as her toes curl, her slick covering his long fingers.
best!friend!michael who pulls his fingers out with absolutely no warning, earning a shriek from y/n as he drops the book into her lap again, a smirk on his pretty face.
“read the next page,” he says, watching as y/n’s face contorts into another look of embarrassment.
“jus’ had my fingers knuckle deep inside of you,” he hums, watching as she shakily turns the page, “don’t go shy on me now, pretty girl,” he drags his tongue round one of his fingers as y/n whines a series of ‘please’ and ‘i need you’.
“read,”
“d-dear diary,” y/n swallows, her eyes focusing on the page, trying to ignore how much she needed him against her pussy, “watched the boys play basketball…”
her voice trails off again, heat coming to her face as he gave her an impatient little slap on her pussy, making her gasp, the sound slick, and wet, and filthy.
“carry on,”
“and-and,” she continues, close to tears now, “m-mikey looked s’good in his shorts, h-his thighs…”
best!friend!michael who takes the book from her before she finishes, a wicked little smirk on his face as she whines, desperately dragging her pussy against his leg.
“s’needy,” he hums, looking at how pathetic she looked, “c’mere,” he tugged on her arm, “ride my thigh,”
y/n didn’t need to be told twice, crawling forwards with absolutely no shame, her hot pussy settling against his thigh, muscular thigh as she moaned, the contact making her body shiver.
“c’mon, ma,” he settles his hands on her waist, “wanna write all these filthy little things in your book, show me what you were imaginin’,”
best!friend!michael who guides her against him, dragging her wet cunt along his thigh, her slick coating his gorgeous skin as she moans, head thrown back.
the sounds are filthy too, wet and thick, her hands on his shoulders for support as she rides his thigh, her movements full of desperation.
“all these dirty little thoughts,” he leaned back on his arms so he could get a good luck, her hips jerking frantically, “from such a sweet girl, hm?”
y/n just lets out a choked moan, her head thrown back as he watches her, god she looks delicious.
best!friend!michael who picks up the pink diary, waving it in her face, teasing her, “such a pretty pink book,” he hums, “full of such filth,”
she doesn’t even react when he opens it to one of the other countless pages he’s bookmarked, his tongue darting out to wet his lips as he reads it aloud.
“‘can’t keep my mind off of him’,” he watches as her movements become more frantic against him, “‘i need him so bad.’ that true, mama? need me that bad?”
she let out a whine, biting onto her lower lip as he hummed, not at all impressed by her lack of an answer,
“tell me,” he says, voice stern as he grabs her hips, stopping her pathetic little movements, “tell me what your filthy little mind’s been thinkin’ about,”
“you,” y/n gasps, her words choked her hips buck in the air wildly, desperate for contact again.
best!friend!michael who’s had enough time teasing her, and lifts her off his lap as she whines, the diary on the floor now as he rids himself of his clothes.
he watches as y/n’s lip trembles, his dick semi-hard against his stomach.
he pushes her so she’s bent over the bed, dragging his throbbing tip through her folds as he pumps himself a few times, his dick heavy and thick in his hand.
“y’gonna take it all, ma?” he leans down, voice low on her ear as she nodded, twisting the bedsheets tight in her hands.
best!friend!michael who holds her waist tight with one hand, as the other guides his dick into her, stretching her pussy round him as she moans, settling deep inside of her as he groans.
y/n throws her head back, eyes rolling back as he rocks his hips, his dick hitting to her g-spot.
“feels s’fucking good,” he groans into her neck, pulling her back into him as he sped up, his tip slamming into that perfect, spongy spot inside of her.
his hand comes forwards to her hair, pulling her head back to drag wet, hot kisses down her jaw as he fucks deeper into her, muttering praise into her ear.
“takin’ me so well, such a pretty, filthy girl,”
best!friend!michael who can tell y/n’s close, her face hot, eyes hazy and lips parted, her pussy clamping desperately round him as he slows down, dragging himself painfully slow into her.
he makes her savour every inch of him inside of her, before he resumes his quick, harsh snaps, his hips smacking into her ass.
his hands reach forwards round her, cupping her tits and squeezing, pulling soft moans and whimpers from her as he groaned, forehead against her shoulder.
"right there, right fucking there," she mewls, desperate for him, as he hit that perfect, sweet spot.
“here, ma?” he angles his hips a little away as she whines, pathetic and needy, shaking her head, “what about here?”
y/n just shook her head again, toes curling.
best!friend!michael who knows exactly what she wants, finally driving hard against that sweet spot, making her shriek in pleasure as the knot in her stomach tightens.
“finish f’me,” he hisses, “i know you’re close,”
she gasps, her eyes rolling back as he keeps hitting that spot hard, her body shaking as she finishes, his dick still fucking into her through her high.
“michael, mikey fuck-,” y/n gasps out, so desperate, her voice thick as he fucks her through her high.
he moves almost embarrassingly easy inside of her, her pussy wet enough for him to slide in and out of her.
best!friend!michael who pulls her arm back so her back arches just enough for him to hit that perfect spot with exact precision. “so close, feel s’good round me, fuck, ma-,”
he finishes with a deep groan, cum spurting inside of her, hot and thick as he holds her in a tight bear hug, his hair sticking to his forehead, chest covered in a light sheen or sweat.
“shh baby,” he whispers into her hair as she comes down from her high, his dick twitching inside of her, “s’alright now, you did so good f’me,”
he pulls out of her so slow, so not to hurt her, his hand threading gently through her hair to comfort her, muttering sweet nothings into her ear as he does so.
best!friend!michael who decides the best decision of his life was choosing to read that diary.
synopsis: michael’s dirty dancing seemingly caught up to you in a matter of minutes.
warnings: smut 18+, sexual themes, cowgirl, switch!michael, sub!reader, creampie, hair pulling, pet names, public sex (ish) overstimulation, oral (f receiving) minors dni.
requested: yes or no
This was one of Michael’s best performance you seen, hands down.
Sometimes you came with him when he went on tour, and you loved every bit of it. Or even when you’re back at home, you’d watch all his shows live. But this time, he let you tag along for his Wembley tour circuit in 1988. It was a pretty lengthy tour; anyone else would probably be tired by now or, truly, not have the capacity to sit through it, but you?
You had no limits with Michael. You were just a girl madly in love with your partner. You’d do anything for him, especially when supporting him. So, he was on either his second-to-last song, about almost time to an end, which you weren’t complaining about, but it definitely was refreshing to watch him do what he does best.
You felt, and Michael most certainly felt, that his performance was definitely him giving his all and more, because you were there.
Michael is a perfectionist, he was gonna do amazing regardless, but the way he moved his fingers, his body, and the faces he made. You knew they were all for you, only for you. Doing so, he eventually got what he wanted because without your knowledge, he performed ‘The Way You Make Me Feel.’ One of your favorite songs because of obvious reasons; It’s about you.
Once you heard the song blare through the loudspeaker, your ears perked up as you looked towards the entrance of the stage. Whatever you had been doing was interrupted because now you were just inches away from the stage, watching from behind the scenes as Michael did his opening piece.
“You knock me off of my feet now baby!”
“Wooooo!”
The crowd erupted into cheers, and the stage lights illuminated Michael, bringing him out of the dark. The beat thumped as Michael did his signature moves, popping his chest and doing the small spins in place. His background dancers stayed in the back while the song began, officially starting Michael’s performance.
Your heart thumped out of your chest as you watched him prance around the stage. His calculated movements, incredible voice that projected perfectly, and his fingers that could not stop moving in seductive ways, all had you backstage warming up. He eventually caught your figure and gave you a few winks, keeping it professional.
You’d shy away by angling your head downward or biting your lip, or even nibbling on the tip of your fingernail. Michael saw all of it, and it fueled his little teases even more. Michael smirked as he walked closer toward your end and waved his guys over. They came, as Michael finished the lyrics; now with a perfect view of you and his audience.
“I like this feeling you’re givin’ me.”
He was close. Your pupils grew big as you watched him precisely, knowing these lyrics were directed to you, and he sang them to you at this moment, making butterflies tear up your stomach. You smiled like an idiot and folded your arms against your chest; you were so shy in this moment that all you could do was cheese and twist your hair occasionally.
“Just hold me baby, and i’m in ecstasy.”
He pointed his hand out, then reached back, placing it on his crotch and slightly thrusting in the air. Your eyes went big, only just the slightest while you watched and anticipated his next move. Though, you should probably sit down because standing and shifting your feet isn’t going to give you the satisfaction you need down there.
He continued the choreo, with his hips continuously popping and one hand supporting the mic, the other all over his body. He’s still positioned to where he has a good view of you, while the guys in the back moved accordingly. He held a smirk while making small gestures towards you.
He then turned fully towards the crowd, where you only had a sideways view of him. His hand traced an outline of a curved body— “I swear I’m keeping you satisfied.” He swayed his arm down and thrusted repeatedly in the air, as if he was giving it to you. The slight, uncomfortable warmth that you felt below meant your body had betrayed you to the fullest. Michael got you, without even touching you.
“Oh my god..” You whispered before letting your head fall into your hands. All of your buttons had been turned on, creating a small thump in your clit, that left you squeezing your legs together while standing. Now you were just about ready for this concert to be over.
—
Michael could tell something was up.
He finished his last song, giving a small outro before leaving the stage. There you were waiting for him by his dressing room door that read ‘Michael Jackson’, “You did so good, Mikey!” He swiftly lifted you off your feet, engulfing you with a hug and swindling you with a kiss. His body was hot and damp, his hair laid messily on his forehead, and his collar stretched ever so slightly, displaying his toned chest.
All of these being a contribution to the arousal you began feeling minutes ago, which is why you were so eager to get out of there. “You ready to go?” Michael’s eyebrows turned downward with a gentle smile on his face.
“Yeah, baby, we’re leaving soon.”
Usually, you wouldn’t inquire about leaving so early; you’d just wait for Michael to tell you. So you took a seat in his dressing room chair, coming down with a slight slouch as Michael wiped the sweat from his forehead, not missing the slight demeanor change within you. He looked over his shoulder at you; you caught his eye and straightened up a bit, flashing him a forged smile.
He squinted his eyes in the slightest.
You couldn’t fake it with Michael, a pout unintentionally formed on your lips as you waited for his attempt at interrogation. “What’s wrong?” There it was. He discarded the towel and put his attention on you fully. It necessarily wasn’t anything wrong, just something that needed to be fixed.
You shook your head. “Nothing, Mike, I’m okay.” Just off of him standing above you, as you sat in the chair looking up at him with a masked feeling of lust, turned you on even more. He couldn’t necessarily point out what was wrong or if you were telling the truth.
He raised an eyebrow at you. “You sure? No one made you uncomfortable or anything?” You didn’t respond verbally, just a small ‘unt unt’. He finished his sentence— “because you look kind of—” There it was. He quickly put two and two together on his own. He got his answer already; he couldn’t help but notice the way your plush thighs would press together and shift against one another.
“Ohhh, I see. She needs me?” Your lack of response gave Michael his answer, again. He chuckled and shot you a faux frown. “I can’t help you right now, baby.” Another squeeze came from you as disappointment seeped through your heart. Knowing Michael, he was going to tease you alllll the way until it was time for him to get his hands on you.
“Then don’t tease me Michael.” Your doe eyes being captured with his big ones as well made him lick his lips, pausing for a second to reconsider it. How can he say no to a pretty face like that? You weren’t saying how badly you needed it, but Michael could tell from your body language alone, and the fact of you using his full name.
“Please…” That was enough for him to turn his head and open the door to his dressing room, peaking his head before spotting bill. “Bill, how long?” Michael asked with his body halfway peaking out of the door frame. Bill stopped in his tracks and held his wrist that contained his watch, close to his face.
“I say about 30 minutes.”
More than enough time messing around with Michael;) He nodded his head and slid back into the room. You watched his every move, watching as he approached you by holding his hand out for you to take. He guided you both to the large black couch. He sat first, while your hands were still together. You followed his movement and positioned yourself to straddle his lap. Your hands fell on his chest, and his eased on your waist, after he gave your ass a nice grip.
“What’s got you so worked up, honey?” He started a conversation while leaning in toward your neck area, showering it with small kisses. Out of instinct, you started grinding yourself against Michael. He felt it, and his hands held your waist, pressed you down, signaling you to stop.
You whined and answered his question. “You, Mikey.” He still gave sweet kisses to your neck, but now he began kitty licking those spots and sucking on your neck. You breathed out and dragged your hands down his warm chest.
“Aint’ even touched you though” He mumbled.
“O-on stage.” You responded quickly, trying to move your hips, but Michael had you restrained. You moaned in his embrace as he applied more pressure on your neck by sucking harder. He might not have made you wait, but he still was going to tease you and work you up even more no matter what. C’mon now. He detached from your neck and placed both hands on the sides of your face, pulling you in for a hot and steamy kiss. You quietly yelped at the sudden movement, but once your lips connected, it somewhat fueled your neediness. Michael, of course, dominated the kiss, his lips capturing yours whole, his tongue swiping against your bottom lip, immediately gaining access. The two of your tongues connected as you lazily sucked on his tongue. He gently pulled back before coming back with a wet, full-lip kiss, then nibbling on your bottom lip, drawing a pinch of blood.
It was clear as day the Michael wanted this as bad as you.
You whimpered while breaking the kiss and fidgeted with your skirt, that had already been risen by now, desperately trying to get it off. You succeeded in doing so, and began fidgeting with Michael’s pants. You were crazy as hell if you thought Michael was going to proceed to fuck you without getting a taste of his favorite fruit. Pffttt.
“Need to taste you first baby.”
One of his arms snaked around your back side, lifting you in the air, while standing himself. He kept a tight grip on you while shimming himself out of his pants, still keeping his boxers on. He placed you on one of the sturdy tables in the dressing room. You immediately fell into position, holding yourself on your elbows with spread legs.
You let out a breathy sigh as Michael placed himself between your legs, in awe at the large, dark spot that decorated your panties. Not that Michael needed anything to feed his ego, because he didn’t have an enormous one in the first place, but seeing the way you were nearly dripping through your panties from watching him perform inappropriately would definitely be a contribution.
He removed your panties, not missing the sticky trail that came from your soaking wet bottoms and your clit. He discarded them somewhere on the floor and kissed your inner thighs. His hands hooked on the back of your thighs, inching them forward. “Just a taste mikey.” You said in a low voice, almost like a whisper, because once again you knew your boyfriend and his tendencies to get carried away. He pursed his lips together and hummed.
“Just a taste baby, then you can take what you want. Yeah?” He nodded his head in attempts to assure you.
You nodded, giving him an okay. His eyes left yours as he connected his lips to your sweet bundle of nerves. He started from your entrance and licked all the way up to your clit. This made you shiver and grip the ends of the table you were laid on. He then began sucking on your clit, lapping up your juices making sure none of your sweet nectar went untasted.
“Ohh my…” You moaned softly with an unconscious attempt to clamp your thighs together, but Michael’s hands kept you restrained. Your body became hot the more Michael’s lips attacked your cunt, and the more he flicked with your clit repeatedly with the tip of his tongue. “So sweet, taste so good pretty.” You felt the vibration of his voice on you making you jolt, and hold onto his semi long curls for support.
“Yes, mikey… right there.” You whimpered with a wobbly voice. Michael groaned and grunted while creating wet noise with his lips and your juices, leaving his chin a dripping mess. His dick stiffened in his boxer, causing him to move his hips into the air, slightly and very few times. His lips pulled at your bundle of nerves surrounding your clit before coming off with a loud pop noise, before coming back in, stuffing his face deeper into your pussy. His movement became more effective as his teeth grazed against your clit each time he dove back in, slurping in the process.
You dragged out a whine.
Your face turned, and your abdomen tightened. “M-Michael… y’said just a taste.” Your words fell deaf to his ears. Michael’s eyes weren’t even open; he was too busy in a daze from the sweetest smell and touch known to man.
You let out a sob and a frustrated moan while yanking his hair. That seemed to grab Michael’s attention because his eyes shot open and at you. With the strength that you had, you eased yourself away from Michael. His lips still working their way on you, as he moved his hands from the back of your thighs, then his lips away from your slobbery cunt.
You gasped from the sudden pull and tried to control your breath. “S’enough, just a taste. ‘member?” He was still between your legs, his eyes were dark and full of lust in that moment. He didn’t even reply to you; instead, he lifted both of your legs, placing them on his shoulders before locking his arms around your thighs and heading back to work.
“I’m sorry baby. I need more.”
You came to defeat as your head fell back and your thighs trembled in Michael’s hold. His tongue put in the same work as before, flicking your clit as you felt an orgasm creep up. Your stomach churned, and you caught chills all over your body. “mikeyy..” You whined.
His adjusted the position by pulling you closer, and adding more aggression.
“Ohh m-mikeyy..” A high-pitched moan erupted from your throat, as the once-built-up tension snapped and washed over you like a tidal wave. You grinded into Michael’s face, feeling his nose bump against your clit. He hummed, slurping up every droplet of cum that exited you, as if it were forbidden not to do so. You came down with a breathy moan, and your legs fell weakly from Michael letting you go.
He wiped his chin with the back of his hand.
You tried steadying your breath as Michael removed his shirt. He discarded it and placed his hands on each side of you, going in for a kiss. You caught it as your lips sloppily danced with one another, and you tasted yourself faintly on his lips. Michael broke this kiss. “I’m sorry I got carried away, angel. I couldn’t help myself. I love tasting you, gorgeous girl.” Michael said.
You nodded your head lazily and wrapped your arms around his neck, he got the message and lifted you swiftly from the table. He sat back down on the black couch again, keeping you leveled as he freed himself. His incredibly long and thick dick slapped against his stomach with a small tap. Pre cum oozed from his agitated tip as it was just inches away from your area.
“Go ahead sweet girl, take what you need.”
The intense eye contact Michael held with you while keeping his hands by his side made you clench around nothing. You brought a shaky hand to your lips as you dropped a wad of spit, then stroked Michael gently, causing him to grunt and attach his large hands to the cushion. You lubed his dick up and lifted your hips, aligning him up with your entrance.
Since you didn’t have the best stability, your hands went to his shoulders, while your head looked downward. “Michael.. Hold me.” You weren’t going to be able to fit his fat tip inside of you without missing your hole the first time.
His hands instantly went to your hips.
“I got you, baby, come on.” He said lazily. Your hands gripped his shoulders as his tip began slowly disappearing inside you. Your eyes shut quickly with a tight squeeze. Every time you and Michael had sex, his dick size never fell to amaze because it always took a second for you to adjust. You let out a breathy moan as he finally bottomed out. Michael licked his lips and swallowed harshly, he wasn’t in charge anymore it was all up to you.
Your hips stuttered as you lifted yourself up, then came back down. You’d repeat the same steps, but each time you’d add a little bit more force. Until you were completely bouncing on Michael’s dick, with such perfect ease.
“Jesus christ.” Michael groaned out load.
Continuous amounts of moans left your mouth as the feeling of his mushroomy tip abusing your gummy walls consumed you. You bit your lip and threw your head back as Michael stared at you the whole time, being in a trance-like state over how good you were making him feel. He shoved your top up and latched his mouth onto your left tit. His tongue swirled around your nub, sucking and pulling at the sensitive spot while he whimpered and groaned into your chest. “Angel… you’re so warm. All for me.” He let out a pathetic whine as your face twisted up with pleasure, small tears threatening to spill out of your eyes.
You couldn’t even form a complete sentence. “Mich—” You were so close but yet so far. Eventually, the strength you had minutes ago began dying down. You still had movement, but it was slowed, and you were more so grinding rather than bouncing. Michael pulled from your tits, leaving them marked up, and quickly put his hands on your hips, manually bouncing you and thrusting into you.
He sensed your tiredness but that wasn’t stopping the show. He loved this position and didn’t plan on switching it.
“Don’t stop, baby. Please, don’t stop.” He moaned, catching his bottom lips between his teeth. You let out a muffled, what could almost be a scream into Michael’s shoulder. Because now you were laid against his shoulder, panting loudly while he peeked around you to see the way your ass came down on him. The sound of wet, squelching sounds coming from your pussy, and the clap sound created by yours hitting Michael’s thighs, all filled the room along with the smell of perfume mixed with cologne and sex.
He felt the way you clench around him multiple times and could tell you were near your end. He gripped the back of your hair, nothing too tight, and faced you toward him, pulling you in for a kiss, something to add fuel. The kiss was very sloppy and all over the place; it didn’t shush either of you; it only made more nasty and lewd sounds come from both of you.
Michael was reaching greatness as well, but he couldn’t let himself go without you going first. His hand with a grip on your hair pulled your head back, and his lips attacked your neck. You let out high-pitched cries as you felt the familiar tightness in your stomach.
“Y’Gonna cum for Mikey? Show him how much you needed this? Y-Yeah?” Michael grunted into your neck, fucking into you at a devious pace. God, he was so dirty. All you could do was nod your head, barely even that, while biting your lip as your orgasm reached its peak.
“Yes Mikey.. Oh my god..” You felt the tightness snap again, and an immediate wave of pleasure rose over you, beneath you, inside of you everywhere. You came with an ear-piercing moan. Your fingernails dug into his thighs as he still held you in the position of your head being back, chest perked up, and your back arched. Your cum created a thick white ring around his dick, and from the sight of that alone, that was enough to make you cum. He thrusted into you hard, a couple more times, the last few becoming sloppy before you finally spilled his load inside of you.
He moaned and groaned, made a mixture of noise while still fucking you through the rest of your orgasm and now him. “Ohh my… Baby.” He grunted while coming down from a big explosion. The warm feeling of cum crowded your belly, making you hyper aware. You gently fell into his hold with a breathy sigh as you stayed in place. Not bothering to remove yourself.
Your breathing was very uneasy, so was his. He rubbed your back gently and kissed the top of your head. He lifted you up so he could pull out, and the loss of contact made both of you release sounds of pleasure. He was so obsessed with your defeated state that he could almost get another hard-on. You laid your head back on his chest while still straddling him with a naked lower half.
Michael stretched his neck and lifted your face giving you a quick kiss.
“It’s probably time to go babygirl.”
You pouted and groaned. “I know but, I won’t be able to walk.”
Michael giggled and wiggled his eyebrows at the fact of knowing this his was doing. “Well, Whatcha gonna do girl?”
“I’m not gonna do anything, you’re carrying me.” And that’s exactly what he did. Didn’t even try and stand on business..
—
;)
dedicated to my lovey @sturnschris
it IS gonna be a delay on the other fic, so sorry. UGHH
-yourlove7 2026. don’t copy, repost as yours, remake, if inspired give creds.
synopsis: after convincing yourselves the kiss was just a one-time mistake, pretending nothing happened turns out to be a lot harder than either of you expected.
cw: smut, inexperienced (childhood?) bsf!michael, inexperienced!reader, sexual tension, making out, mutual pining, dry humping, oral (f!receiving) (michaels an eater in the making), implied masterbation, twister :p, oral (m!receiving), praise, nasty nasty nasty, loud vocal whiny michael, they r freaky ass virgins, otw/thriller!michael
part 1 (but u dont really need it to read this) might have a part 3 :p
also sorry but half-edited
you’d think nearly getting walked in on by an entire hallway full of his brothers would’ve snapped some sense into michael.
the adrenaline from that close call — but mostly the kiss, if he was being honest — kept him wide awake for hours. by the next morning, he’d firmly resolved to leave the whole thing behind. you two were supposed to be best friends, after all. it was just a reckless lapse in judgment that both of you needed to quietly put away and never bring up again.
except neither of you were particularly good at pretending — and especially not michael.
he had always been guided by a pretty strict moral compass. between his upbringing and his own polite nature, he just wasn’t the type of guy to fool around or treat people carelessly. he took things seriously, sometimes to a fault.
your friendship was the one thing in his life that felt safe and untouched by all the usual noise surrounding him. it was easy, it was real, and he kept a tight guard over it. but it was getting harder and harder to ignore the ache that had settled in his chest.
he wanted to be the gentleman he was raised to be, but every time he looked at you now, there was this need he couldn’t set aside. the thought of blurring those lines and letting things get messy scared him to death.
he didn't want to be the guy who took advantage of a close moment, and he definitely didn't want to look across the room one day and realize he’d made things weird between you two forever.
the shift hit immediately over the next few days. it wasn't anything too crazy, but there were noticeable hitches in your usual routine. you’d be hanging out on the carpet in his bedroom at hayvenhurst, casually flipping through a crate of old vinyl records to find something to play, and you’d look up to ask him a question. but instead of looking at the sleeve in your hand, michael would already be watching you. specifically, your mouth.
every time you spoke about the most boring, mundane things — like what track to play next or what you wanted to have for dinner — his gaze would drop. he’d watch your mouth, his own lips parting the tiniest bit as he tracked the movement, not even fully aware of what he was doing.
in his head, a loop was running. he kept remembering the sweet taste of your lip gloss, the dizzying warmth of your mouth parting for him, and the way your tongue slid greedily against his. it had felt incredible. just thinking about it made a tight ache coil low in his stomach. he wondered what it would feel like if he leaned across the carpet right now, if he could feel your soft, wet mouth sliding down, wrapping tight around his—
no. michael caught himself, his throat bobbing as he swallowed hard, a flush creeping up his neck. no, stop it. that’s your best friend. you are not taking your thoughts there. he’d abruptly yank his gaze away, clearing his throat and nervously shifting his weight on the floor to hide the stiffness in his trousers, stammering out a hurried reply that did absolutely nothing to clear the thick cloud of tension left in the room.
by the weekend, the tension in the house was just getting to be too much. hoping a change of scenery would finally break the awkwardness, you both decided to get out of there and go for a drive.
you sat in the plush passenger seat of his light blue rolls-royce, the car parked under the sprawling canopy of a quiet, dimly lit street overlooking the valley. the street light cast a soft glow over the interior. you both had cups of soft-serve ice cream, the car filled with the easy, familiar chatter that always came naturally to you two.
"’m jus' sayin', it’s completely different when you're seein' it on a big screen," michael said as he gestured with his plastic spoon. "the way they did the transformation scenes in an american werewolf in london? 's like magic. rick baker is a genius, i'm tellin' you."
you snorted, shifting in your seat to face him. "you spent half the movie hiding your face behind your hands. you can't claim it’s ‘artistic appreciation’—” you used your free hand to flash quick air quotes, “—when you were literally too scared to look."
"i was not!" he protested, a laugh bursting out of him. he shrugged, shifting slightly in his seat. "i was studyin' the makeup effects— that’s research. y'gotta look closely at how the skin stretches, otherwise y'don't learn nothin'."
"right, research," you teased, taking another bite of your ice cream. "is that why you gripped my wrist so hard i lost circulation?"
"you're exaggeratin' now," he grinned as a pretty flush hit his cheeks. "i was jus' makin' sure you weren't scared. i was protectin' you."
"oh, thanks. my hero." you nudged his shoulder with your own, a smirk playing on your face. "what, are you thinking 'bout quitting your music career to become a makeup artist now?"
michael let out another quiet chuckle, shaking his head as he looked down at his cup. "no way," he murmured, swirling his spoon through the melting ice cream. "'s too messy. i'll stick to the studio." he flicked his eyes back up to yours, his smile softening. "but a real artist has to appreciate all kinds of things. movies, painting, whatever... it all helps y'grow. y'gotta feed your mind, y'know?"
you hummed, nodding along.
gradually, the chatter died down into a still quietness. you scooped up one last bite of your ice cream, turning your head to look out the window at the sprawling valley lights as you ate it, unaware that the motion left a small dab of vanilla right on the corner of your lower lip.
michael was leaning his elbow against the steering wheel, watching you. his eyes locked onto the small white smudge. the silence stretched, growing warmer by the second, until the weight of his stare made you turn your head to face him.
your eyes met. neither of you looked away. the car suddenly felt a lot smaller than it did a second ago. heat bloomed in your cheeks under the weight of his gaze.
"what?" you asked, your voice a little breathier than you intended.
michael didn't answer right away.
"y'have a little..." he said, his voice trailing off as his gaze drifted back to your lips. he slowly reached across the center console towards you.
you held your breath as his thumb pressed against the corner of your mouth to swipe the ice cream away. the intimacy of the touch made your pulse spike.
he drew his hand back, glancing down at his thumb before lifting his eyes to yours again.
without looking away, he slowly licked the vanilla from his thumb.
a hot rush of adrenaline zipped through you.
you swallowed against the dryness in your throat, nervously chuckling as you set your ice cream down in the holder. "thanks... guess i’m a messy eater."
"‘s jus’ me here,” he murmured with a small smile. his fingers fidgeted with the steering wheel, though his eyes never left your lips, it was clear his mind was elsewhere. the silence grew so thick it felt like the air was running out.
michael stayed where he was, still leaning across the center console. he was close enough to feel the warmth radiating off your skin. he took a deep, steady breath before speaking.
“...can i kiss you?” he asked quietly.
you barely let him finish asking before you were already leaning in.
when his mouth finally met yours, michael didn't think it was possible to miss your lips this much. the touch of you washed over him like relief, erasing all the agonizing distance between you in an instant. it somehow felt even better than he'd remembered over the last few day. your lips were soft, carrying the sweet taste of vanilla ice cream.
the kiss started as a slow, but the lingering sweetness on your tongue made it impossible for him to hold back for long.
michael let out a breathy sigh against your mouth as his hand slipped from the steering wheel to cup your cheek. his thumb slid along your jaw, tilting your head to slant his lips deeper over yours.
the first tentative sweep of his tongue past your lips sent a jolt through him, drawing him closer, as if he could close the gap between the seats by force of will.
he devoured you, his breath coming in short gasps that mingled with your own. every soft clash of your lips against his felt heightened, amplified by the cramped dark of the car.
michael’s mind went completely blank to everything except the way you responded to him, your hands finding the collar of his jacket and pulling him down, inviting the weight of him. a faint hum of approval vibrated in his throat when he felt your tongue slide back against his, matching his cadence with a hunger that rivaled his own.
he sucked your lower lip into his mouth, his hands drifted blindly down to your waist.
the center console dug into his side, keeping you frustratingly out of reach, but he refused to pull away. he needed you closer.
without breaking the kiss for even a second, he gripped your hips and hooked his arms beneath your thighs, lifting you up and over the center console.
you scrambled to adjust, your knees sliding onto the edges of his seat until you were straddling his lap. the sudden drop of your body onto his made michael let out a muffled whine into your mouth. he wrapped his arms securely around your back, pulling your chest flush against his as the kiss turned sloppier.
the heat inside the car was blistering. michael's broad hands settled firmly on your hips, holding you close. the pressure between your bodies made him shudder against your mouth.
he couldn't get enough. all the frustration that had built up over the past week spilled over as he shifted his hips up to meet you. the leather beneath him squeaked softly with the movement.
even through the layers of your denim and his trousers, the friction was almost too much to handle. michael’s mouth grew clumsier, his teeth grazing your lower lip as he sucked your tongue into his mouth, drunk on the taste of you and the ache tightening in his groin.
his head was spinning. he squeezed your hips tighter, his fingers digging into your skin as he guided your pace, chasing the delicious rush every time he rocked up against you.
a quiet moan slipped from your lips as your hips rolled into his. the sound alone made his dick twitch against his pants. his grip tightened, his knuckles paling against your waist.
he was trembling all over, his breathing shot, warmth creeping up under his curls. the pace turned frantic, both of you losing your breath as your bodies rolled together in the cramped cabin of the car.
"oh... 'm gonna—" michael slurred into your mouth as his whole body shuddered.
"f-fuck," you whimpered, your fingers gripping his shoulders as your own climax threatened to crash over you.
desperate for a deeper angle, michael gripped your thighs and hoisted himself slightly higher in the seat, thrusting up hard to bury himself flush against you.
in his haste, his movement made your back bump into the center of the steering wheel, the horn blaring and piercing the quiet street.
both of you jumped, the sound cutting through the heat like a bucket of ice water. michael instantly lurched backward, his arm tugging you off the wheel as he tried to put distance between you, his head nearly hitting the roof.
"oh shit," you gasped.
his chest heaved like he’d just run a marathon. he stared at you with wide eyes, his lips swollen and red.
you were still straddling his lap, your hands clutching his shoulders while your heart battered against your ribs. the car was dead silent, save for the sound of both of your uneven breathing.
the absurdity of the situation hit you first, and an airy giggle slipped past your lips. michael blinked at you, startled, before his own shoulders relaxed and he huffed out a short laugh.
but it was very short lived. michael's head was spinning, his thoughts a mess. looking at you in his lap in the dim light, a wave of guilt washed over him.
"we— we gotta stop," michael stammered. he dragged a trembling hand over his mouth, trying to steady himself, though his gaze kept slipping to your rumpled shirt. "we shouldn't... we can't be doin' this.”
you swallowed hard and forced yourself to nod.
but neither of you made a move to separate. the heat between your bodies was thick, your core still pressed flush against his stiff trousers, feeling the twitch of his erection right against you. michael swallowed hard, his hand dropping from his mouth to rest tentatively on your hip.
he looked so torn, caught in this battle with himself, and it made something soften in your chest. you didn't want him pulling away out of fear or some strict rulebook.
you leaned a little closer, reaching out to cup his jaw. your fingers slid along his warm skin, your thumb hooking under his chin to tilt his face up so he had no choice but to look at you.
he was so pretty it almost hurt. his soft curls framed his face in a messy halo, and his dark skin had flushed a deep crimson all the way to the tips of his ears.
as your eyes locked, michael’s gaze dropped to your mouth. his tongue darted out to quickly lick from his lower lip before he bit down on it hard, trapping it between his teeth
"what if... i don't want to?" you murmured, your heart hammering so hard against your ribs you were sure he could feel it. your free hand slid down his shoulder to catch his wrist. "i mean... remember what you said earlier? 'bout research? you said a real artist has to appreciate all kinds of things to grow… and how will you grow if we don’t… you know."
michael blinked, a breathless laugh escaping him. his gaze flickered between your eyes and your lips.
"that... that was about the movies," he whispered, his voice dropping into a soft drawl as he stumbled over the words. he swallowed hard, his throat bobbing beneath your fingertips where your hand still rested on his jaw. his gaze dropped for a moment as his thumb traced a small circle against your hip, the warmth of his palm seeping through your clothes. "'s different. y'know it is."
"'s not different," you breathed, a small smile tugging at your lips. "we're just researching. practicing... aren’t we?"
michael's breath caught. he'd been the one to call it practice in the first place, but hearing the words in your voice made them sound a whole lot less convincing. it painfully obvious that neither of you believed it anymore, but it was just the excuse you'd both quietly agreed to hide behind.
you leaned down closer, the scent of him filling your senses as your eyelids fluttered shut. you pressed your lips to the soft corner of his mouth.
when you started to pull back, he chased your lips until he caught them again, locking his mouth over yours in a desperate kiss. a groan caught in his throat as his fingers tangled deep into the hair at the nape of your neck, his tongue slipping past your teeth.
but just as you tangled your fingers in his collar to pull him closer, he stopped.
he let out a shaky exhale against your skin before dropping his forehead into the crook of your neck. he stayed there for a moment, his chest heaving against yours. he still looked downright tormented as he dragged a trembling hand down his face.
"if i don't stop right now... 'm not gonna be able to," he whispered. he looked down at his hands, heat spreading across his cheeks. "the things i wanna do t'you... the way i want you... 's too much. i can't. i have t'be a gentleman with you.”
your throat tightened, your stomach flipping at his words.
"michael,” you murmured softly, squeezing his hand "you are good for me. i want you. 'm not asking you to be perfect… and you don't get to make this decision all by yourself — it's my choice too"
you leaned in, your thumb tracing the back of his hand. "i don't trust anyone the way i trust you... i want this."
he held your gaze for a long moment, searching your face as if he were making sure you meant every word.
his gaze dropped to your lips, then to where your hand still held his wrist. after a brief hesitation, he turned his hand over in your grip, lacing his fingers with yours and giving them a gentle squeeze.
his free hand returned to your waist, slipping beneath the hem of your shirt as his thumb traced the curve of your hip. he leaned down, pressing a kiss into the crook of your neck before he spoke.
"i wanna make y'feel good," he murmured, his fingers drifting toward your shorts, his knuckles brushing the fabric where you needed him. "can i? can i do that for you?"
you nodded, your voice catching a little. "please."
michael let out a quiet breath, his gaze drifting around the cramped front cabin before a tiny, nervous smile tugged at the corner of his lips. he cleared his throat, a flush creeping up his neck.
"backseat?" he whispered.
you felt your face burn, a small smile breaking across your face as you bit the inside of your cheek and nodded.
you both scrambled over the console until you reached the wide bench seat in the back. you scooted back against the leather as michael climbed in after you, bracing himself above you with one hand planted beside your head and the other at your waist
he carefully flipped your skirt up over your hips. he clumsily worked his hand along your legs while you both shifted awkwardly on the leather, trying to get comfortable. when his hand brushed your bare thigh, you shivered.
"doin' okay?" he asked, looking up at you.
"yeah," you whispered, your face feeling incredibly hot. "'m jus’ a little nervous."
"me too," he said softly. he moved his hand back up, his fingers tentatively tracing the inside of your thigh until his knuckles nudged the edge of your underwear. he stopped there, his eyes searching yours. "can i... touch you here?"
you nodded, your fingers tightening on his shoulder.
michael drew his hand back a few inches as his gaze drifted between your thighs. right in the center of your underwear, a cute little damp spot had bloomed through the cotton. the fabric clung to your skin, outlining the soft shape of your folds where it creased against your body.
michael's breath hitched. he stared, completely transfixed. his lower lip disappeared between his teeth before he reached out, his index finger tracing the damp patch of cotton where it hugged your skin.
"you're drippin'," he whispered, his voice turning raspy as he looked back up at your face.
heat rushed to your face, and you quickly looked away. a tiny smile tugged at his mouth when he saw how flustered you were. he reached up with his other hand to guide your face back toward him, wanting to look at you.
"makes me feel good to know i do that t'you," he confessed, his eyes locked onto yours.
his fingers hooked beneath the elastic, pulling it down your legs. when his fingertips finally touched your drooling pussy, a shaky groan slipped from his lips.
he stared for a long moment, hypnotized by how puffy and swollen you were, by the way you were already spilling over, and when he parted your folds, the wetness caught in the low light filtering in from the street.
"michael," you breathed, your voice cracking. you tried to press your legs together, your hands coming down to shield yourself from his gaze. "don't... 's embarrassing."
"no, don't hide," he whispered. he caught your wrists, easing your hands away. "you're so pretty... you're leakin' all over f’me."
a small, pleading noise slipped from your lips before you can stop it.
"m-michael, please," you begged, your hips twitching under the weight of his stare.
he leaned closer, his nose brushing against your thigh as he took another look, his fascination bordering on obsession. he watched the way your pussy glistened, completely captivated.
he mumbled something under his breath that you couldn't quite make out, sounding almost awestruck by the realization that he was the reason you were falling apart like this. then he reached out, tracing the very edge of your folds with one long finger, following the path where you were dripping.
he wasn’t just touching.
he was exploring you, his curiosity getting the better of his shyness.
he slid his finger upward, an experimental stroke that dragged the wetness over your folds. your breath caught, and michael noted the tiny hitch in your chest, his thumb pausing right where it was. he was studying you, trying to get a gauge of your reactions to what you like.
he was being uncharacteristically shameless but so attentive.
and it turned you on more than you wanted to admit.
"y'like that?" he whispered, his voice hoarse.
you gave a small nod, your hands reaching for his forearms.
michael swallowed hard. he repeated the same upward stroke, this time pressing just a little harder, his thumb lightly grazing the sensitive bundle of nerves at the top. a sharp gasp escaped you, and your hips twitched against his hand.
michael moaned in response, trapping his lower lip between his teeth. he studied you like you were something precious he didn't want to break, mapping out exactly what made you gasp and what made your body respond. then he tried a different angle, circling his thumb gently over your clit. when your eyes fluttered shut and a whimper slipped free, he let out a shaky breath against your skin.
the steady pressure of his thumb was already making your head spin. michael's breathing grew shallower, his chest rising and falling against yours as he looked down at his hand. his middle finger shifted slightly, the tip nudging against your opening before he stopped.
"michael—" you gasped, your hips twitching on his lap.
"still okay?" he asked, his eyes searching yours.
"y-yeah," you whispered, your fingers curling into his shirt. "can you give me more?"
michael swallowed hard, his face flushed. "tell me if it's too much," he whispered.
he eased his finger inside. he moved carefully, trying to find the right angle while your walls gripped him. a low, quiet moan caught in his throat from how warm and tight you felt.
you were soaking, the mess of it making everything slippery as he pushed a little deeper. the wet noise of his finger sliding against your folds was loud in the quiet car, making your face burn, but you couldn't stop your body arching into him.
when his finger curled slightly and your whole body buckled, he let out a shaky groan into the crook of your neck.
“oh— mike, fuck,” you whimpered.
he looked back up at you, his lower lip caught between his teeth, looking overwhelmed by an idea he was clearly trying to work up the nerve to ask.
"can i..." he started. he cleared his throat, a deeper flush creeping up his neck. "will y'let me taste you? please?"
your heart skipped a beat, your fingers tightening in the fabric of his shirt. when you gave a small nod, the tension in his shoulders melted away. carefully, he eased his finger out of you, the soft sound of the release making you both shiver.
"lay back f'me," he whispered.
you let your elbows slide out from under you, easing back onto the wide leather bench seat. the smooth leather felt cool against your skin.
he shifted his weight, moving down between your legs, angling himself on the lower edge of the seat.
he rested his hands on the insides of your thighs, his fingers tracing upward until he had a clear view of you. he stared for a beat before lowering his head.
looking down at him, your chest ached with how beautiful he was. his skin looked soft under the dim light, and those huge, deep brown eyes of his were wide and completely focused on you, framed by thick lashes. even with his curls a little messy and his face completely flushed with nerves, he looked so striking it almost made you forget to breathe.
you felt his breath first — hot and shallow, panting softly against your cunt — and you went still under him, your stomach tightening as his hair tickled your thighs.
he still hadn't moved and you were squirming just waiting for him to do something.
he lifted his eyes to yours, the contact hitting like lightning.
there was so much written across his face — hunger, reverence, something almost possessive — but it was the softness that broke you. the slight twitch of his eyebrows.
slowly, michael leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your inner thigh, his breath ghosting over your skin. then another, a little higher this time, right at the crease where you leg met your hips.
and finally he lowered his head closer to your core, never once breaking eye contact, before he leaned in and licked you.
a slow lick from bottom to top, with the flat of his tongue. you let out a sharp gasp, your hands flying to grip the edges of the seat cushions as your hips jolted.
and he groaned, a sound so filthy that you felt it through your cunt, all the way to your spine.
he began using his tongue in slow upward strokes, mirroring the way he'd touched you with his fingers. he was so gentle, his tongue warm and wet as it dragged through your slickness, parting your folds to get closer. when he swept a little higher and lapped directly over your clit, a loud whimper broke from your lips.
michael let out a low groan against your skin, the vibration sending a shiver through your inner thighs. he pressed his face closer, his nose nudging into your wetness as his strokes grew wider, hungrier, fumbling his way into a steady rhythm as he drank you in.
"y’taste so good," he rushed out. "so sweet. god, you're so wet."
he was obsessed with every sound coming out of you and wanted to hear more. he slid his middle finger back inside your slick opening, drawing another broken sound from you as your hips jolted off the leather.
michael's nose nudged against your clit as he let out a shaky breath against your skin. he pushed his finger a little deeper, trying to find a rhythm between the lapping of his tongue and the slide of his hand. he experimented with different pressures until his fingertip nudged against a rougher, textured spot along your gummy walls. your entire body convulsed.
a cry tore from your throat, your fingers instantly tangling in his soft curls to pull him closer.
michael let out a muffled moan against your inner thigh. realizing what he'd just stumbled onto, he tentatively pressed his finger against that same spot again, curling it just a fraction while his tongue swirled over your clit.
"does that feel good?" he whispered against your skin. he didn't pull away, his mouth still hovering there.
"y-yes," you choked out, your hips twitching against the seat. "michael, feels so good."
he buried his face back into you. he sucked on your clit while his finger gently hooked that spot again. the sensation was so overwhelming your eyes rolled back. you were dripping, the wet sounds of his finger working inside you blending with the sound of his breathing. he kept tracing that sweet spot, his finger prodding clumsily, completely losing himself in the way your body buckled and shuddered beneath his mouth.
but the closer he worked you toward the edge, the more his own desire built. his breathing grew louder as he kept his face buried against you.
"you're doin’ so good," he murmured.
he was so worked up, so overwhelmed by how wet you were — and god, those noises spilling from your lips.
without realizing it, he started grinding into the leather seat cushions, rubbing against them to find some relief while he worked you over.
michael was determined to make you cum, he needed to feel it.
he shifted his angle, his hands sliding beneath your thighs and lifting them, draping your legs over his shoulders as he pulled you closer.
you cried out, because he was even deeper. his face was pressed into you, tongue flattening out again and dragging hard over your entrance.
and then he pushed in, tongue-fucking you. he wasn't even coming up for air, like he didn't even want to.
you could hear the obscene, sloppy sounds of his fingers fucking into you, the suction of his lips over your clit and his moans — god he moaned so much — but you weren't doing much better.
every attempt at a coherent thought dissolved into broken mewls and breathless squeaks. you were climbing so fast you could barely comprehend the pleasure rushing through you.
he lined two fingers this time, sliding into you in one smooth motion, palm facing up. his knuckles dragged across the slick heat of your entrance, easing past the resistance like you were made to take him.
he found that heavenly spot again, pressing into it until you were seeing stars.
your thighs began to tremble, your toes curling as the muscles around his fingers clamped down hard.
"fuck, michael— wait, 'm gonna—"
you couldn't even finish the sentence. your hips jerked off the seat, your body going rigid as the first wave of pleasure crashed through you. a loud cry tore from your throat as your fingers flew to his hair.
michael let out a muffled groan against you as your walls began to spasm around his fingers, squeezing them in pulsing waves. he stayed right there, working you through it as your sweet release slipped around his fingers, creating embarrassing squelching noises. he panted heavily against your inner thighs, trapped between your legs while you shook.
his fingers slowly slipped out of you as he exhaled, the motion drawing another twitch from you. he pushed himself back until he was sitting on his heels. he looked like a wreck — his face flushed, his lips wet all the way to his chin. he swallowed hard, glancing down at his hand before lifting his eyes to yours.
"you okay?" he whispered, his voice thick. "was that alright?"
a soft laugh escaped you. "yeah, it was perfect. you sure you haven’t done this before?"
he let out a breathless laugh, equal parts relief and embarrassment. he looked out the window, rubbing the back of his neck with his clean hand as the dark skin flushed deeper. "never."
you reached out, wrapping your hand around the back of his neck and gently pulling him toward you.
eagerly, he leaned into you until his chest pressed against yours. when your lips met, the kiss was soft at first, filled with quiet gratitude, before it slowly deepened. you could still taste yourself on his tongue, and it made your head spin.
he groaned softly into your mouth, his clean hand coming up to cup your jaw, his thumb brushing your cheek as he kissed you again like he couldn't stop. when you finally pulled apart for air, his forehead rested against yours, his breath warm against your lips.
his gaze flicked to the analogue clock on the dashboard, and he let out a soft sigh.
“‘s getting real late." he whispered as he reached down to find your panties, handing them over to you with a gentle look. "i should get y'home before your family starts worryin’ 'bout where you're at. i don't want 'em thinkin' bad of you... or me."
you laughed softly as you pulled your panties back on. "i know you're just worried about your own reputation, mr. gentleman."
michael laughed.
the ride back that night wasn't nearly as tense as you'd expected. when he dropped you off, you waved a quick goodbye before practically sprinting inside, your heart doing flips the whole way.
michael had gone home that night in a daze, staring up at his ceiling until the sun came up. he could still feel the dizzying taste of you still lingering on his tongue.
every time he closed his eyes, his mind flashed back to the way you ground down against him. he couldn't shake the memory of those little moans slipping from your lips whenever he'd rub against you just right. it had taken everything in him not to cum in his pants.
though, what happened after that was between him and the four walls of his bedroom.
on the other hand, every time you tried to do something productive, your mind wandered.
all you could think about was how his dick had twitched against your clit through your jeans — god, he'd felt so big. even through two layers of denim, he felt so thick, so hard beneath you. you could still feel the pressure of his fingers digging into your hips, dragging you down so he could grind up into you harder. your underwear had been soaking wet, rubbing against him.
and fuck, his mouth.
you couldn’t stop your mind from going to the dirtiest places. if he was that needy without even being touched, what would he be if you actually did more? you couldn’t help but picture him pinning you down on a bed, gripping your thighs to pull them wide open, and just rutting himself inside you—
no. what were you thinking?
you shoved yourself up from the bed, practically marching into the bathroom before you could let your mind wander any further down that rabbit hole.
turning the tap all the way to the right, you waited until the water ran freezing cold before splashing a handful over your face. the icy shock hit your skin like a slap, stealing a gasp from your lungs as water dripped down your neck and into the collar of your shirt.
you grabbed a towel and dried your face before staring at yourself in the mirror.
get a grip. what is wrong with you?
you headed back to your bedroom, finally feeling a little more grounded. the second you sat down, the phone rang. it was michael, his voice soft and hesitant as he asked if you wanted to come over for a while.
before you could even talk yourself out of it, you were pulling into his driveway.
stepping into his house, the familiar warmth of the place did nothing to settle the nerves twisting in your gut.
michael greeted you with a small smile before gesturing toward the stairs.
you followed him upstairs, the familiar routine of making your way to his bedroom easing some of the tension in your chest. once inside, michael crossed the room to switch on his stereo, keeping the music low while you kicked off your shoes and settled onto the carpet with your back against the side of his mattress.
when he turned around and saw you'd already claimed the floor, he laughed softly before flopping face-down onto the bed. he slid down until his head hung over the edge.
"you're really gonna sit on the floor? there's a whole bed right here," he said, his voice all soft.
"yeah, well, the carpet is cooler. plus, you take up the whole mattress anyway," you said, resting your arms on your knees.
"i do not," he scoffed, rolling onto his back to stare up at the ceiling. he tucked his hands behind his head.
you fell back into your usual conversation.
you both were great at not addressing the elephant in the room.
a wave of relief washed over you as you listened to him ramble about some silly show he'd stayed up watching the night before. you'd spent the entire drive over with sweaty palms, convinced he was going to sit you down and talk about what happened in his car.
just listening to the sound of his voice, the knot in your chest finally began to loosen. your mind was still a little loud — it was impossible to completely forget the way he'd gripped your hips — but his easy, familiar energy grounded you. he wasn't pushing or making things awkward, and for the first time in days, it almost felt like nothing had changed.
"oh, wait, i almost forgot," michael said, popping up onto his elbows. he looked down at you, his eyes bright with that boyish excitement he always got whenever he had something new to show you. "i got something yesterday. hold on."
he scrambled off the bed and padded over to his closet. after rummaging around for a moment, he pulled out a colourful cardboard box.
"twister?" you asked, reading the bold letters on the front as he walked back over.
"yeah!" he grinned, dropping to his knees on the carpet as he tore the plastic wrap off the box. "i saw it the other day and i had to get it."
you chuckled, shaking your head as you crawled over to help him clear a space on the bedroom floor.
"michael, you know you're way too flexible for this to be a fair fight."
"that's not true," he scoffed, shaking out the large white mat covered in bright red, blue, yellow, and green dots. "you have good balance. 's totally fair. here, you spin first."
he tossed the little cardboard spinner toward you, and for the first ten minutes, it was just stupid fun. you kept up your usual chatter, laughing and teasing each other every time the spinner landed on something inconvenient.
it felt normal.
but the game had no intention of letting it stay that way.
"left hand, green," michael muttered, reaching over his own arm to flick the spinner. he glanced down at where the arrow landed before looking back up at you with a grin. "right foot, red for you."
you groaned, eyeing the mat. to reach the only open red dot, you had to stretch directly over him. keeping both hands planted on their blue dots, you lifted your hips and stretched your leg across, hovering right above him.
michael was propped up on his left hand and right foot, waiting for you to make your move. but the second you shifted, his breath caught.
from where he was on the floor, he had an unobstructed, up-close view of your ass, the fabric of your shorts pulled taut as you stretched into the awkward position.
michael's brain blanked. the playful comment he was about to make died in his throat. he tried — he really did — to look away.
he blinked hard, forcing his gaze toward the closet door, then down to his hand on the green dot as his breathing picked up.
but it was like a magnet. his gaze snapped right back to you, tracing the curve of your hips as his mind flashed to the heat of his car a few nights ago — to the memory of exactly how it had felt to hold you right there.
heat flooded his veins, burning all the way up to the tips of his ears.
"okay," you said, letting out a breath as your foot settled on the red dot. "your turn. spin it."
the mat had become so crowded that michael had to awkwardly lean over his own arm to reach the spinner again, letting out a strained laugh as he stretched across the mat. as he shifted, you adjusted to give him room.
"don't move," you panted, your arms beginning to shake. "if you move, i'm gonna fall."
"i'm trying, i swear—" michael started, a breathless laugh escaping him as he glanced up at you. but his foot slipped on the smooth plastic.
you let out a yelp before collapsing straight onto him. the two of you tumbled into a tangled heap, laughing as you landed sprawled across his chest, your hips settling over his lap.
for a second, you were both recovering from the fall, your laughter echoing in the bedroom. but as your giggles faded and you leaned up on your elbows to look down at him, the amusement vanished.
michael went still beneath you. his hands hovered uncertainly by your waist, trembling as though he didn't know where to put them. he stared straight up at you, his chest rising and falling beneath yours, his lips slightly parted as his breath caught. up this close, his eyes were wide, his pupils so blown they nearly swallowed the brown of his irises.
it felt like the universe was doing everything it could to push you together. you were seriously starting to think you'd jinxed yourself. every time you convinced yourself things were finally back to normal, the universe found a way to prove you wrong within minutes.
because beneath the fabric of your shorts, you felt the unmistakable hardness growing against your thigh.
michael’s gaze darted to where your hips were pressed against his. he looked mortified, caught red-handed in a way he couldn't hide.
his hands came to rest at your waist. with the gentlest touch, he tried to ease you back and off him.
"'m sorry," he whispered, his voice real soft as he gave you a small, embarrassed smile. "it'll go away if y'just... give me a minute."
the way you were looking at him had him bringing up both his hands up, burying his face in his palms to hide the crimson flushing his cheeks.
he looked so sweet and so overwhelmed. it made you lean down closer towards him.
"I swear I didn't invite y’over for this," his muffled voice came from behind his hands. He slowly lowered his palms, his dark skin flushed a deep crimson all the way to the tips of his ears as he looked up at you. "I jus’ wanted to hang out with you… like before."
you bit the inside of your cheeks. "i know, mike," you said, your voice steady despite the racing of your heart. "’s been weird not seeing you as much the last few days.”
“yeah?”
"yeah," you murmured, looking down at him. now that you were this close, keeping up the casual front was getting harder. "but if i'm being honest... i haven't really been able to stop thinking about it. ever since the couch... and the car."
michael's eyes searched yours, his features softening as the tension melted from his shoulders. he let out a long, slow exhale, his head settling back against the carpet.
when he looked at you again, his gaze wandered over your face, lingering like he was trying to memorize every detail.
"i missed you these last few days... and i miss y'now, even when you're sittin' right here." he swallowed. "i jus'..." he whispered, searching your face. "i jus' wanna be close t'you."
his fingertips tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear. "i wanna hold you." his voice faltered. "i don't wanna keep pretendin' this doesn't mean somethin'."
he let out a slow breath, his forehead nearly brushing yours. "...i think i need you more than i know what t'do with."
for a moment, you couldn't find a single thing to say. a surge of giddiness hit you so hard you had to fight to keep your face from splitting into a grin. you desperately swallowed down the high-pitched squeal threatening to bubble up your throat, forcing yourself to keep it together so you wouldn't give away just how badly he'd short-circuited your brain.
so you did the only thing you could think of.
you leaned down and kissed him, your hands framing his face, your fingers curling against his jaw as you pulled him up to you.
the kiss spoke for itself, pouring every ounce of the frustration and longing you couldn't put into words straight into his mouth.
you parted your lips, sliding your tongue against his with an urgency that drew a muffled gasp from him.
the sound only made you press closer, your chest flattening against his as you drank him in.
there was a profound ache to the kiss. almost like the release of all the secret longing he'd been hiding away for days. it felt like he was pouring his whole soul into your mouth, every stroke of his tongue tracing a quiet plea against yours. he kissed you like a man who had been starving in the dark, his lips sealing over yours with a reverent hunger that made your chest ache.
he dragged his mouth away from yours, his breath coming in shallow puffs as he kissed a trail down your cheek, his lips hot against your skin. he pressed a string of kisses along your chin and jaw before his mouth found your neck.
a quiet moan slipped from your lips as he found the sensitive spot just beneath your ear. his lips parted as he sucked gently at the soft skin, the drag of his mouth making your hips twitch against his lap.
you slid your hand down his chest, past his belt, until your palm rested over the hard ridge beneath the fabric, giving it a gentle squeeze.
michael choked on his breath, his hand flying to still your wrist.
"i wanna make you feel good too.”
"y'don't have to... 's not good for you," he whispered, his fingers trembling around your wrist.
"not good for me?" you murmured, tilting your head. "but it was fine for you to do it to me?"
he bit his lip, looking away. "'s different f'you. you're... you're a lady. i don't want you messin' with somethin'... like that."
you bit back a smile. "like what?"
"somethin'... dirty," he mumbled, avoiding your eyes.
“michael, you tongue-fucked me in the backseat of your car, but this is where you draw the line?”
your blunt words made him look like he wanted the floor to open up and swallow him whole. he immediately buried his face behind both hands, heat rushing into his cheeks.
"d-don't say it like that," he mumbled from behind his hands.
you laughed softly, pressing a kiss to his knuckles before gently pulling his hands away.
leaning closer, you pressed a soft kiss to his jaw, dragging your lips to the sensitive skin just underneath his ear. “please let me, michael. i want to. don’t you wanna feel good?”
his fingers reached up to gently tangle in your hair, holding you close.
"i do..." he whispered. he swallowed hard, a tiny smile tugging at his lips. "i want to so bad... it's jus' scary. y'make me... so nervous." he let out a quiet laugh before biting his lower lip.
"me? make you nervous?" you murmured, a smile tugging at your lips.
instead of answering, michael slid his hand from your hair, trailing down your arm until his palm found yours. he wrapped his fingers around your hand and guided it to his chest, pressing your palm firmly over his heart, letting you feel how rapidly it was beating.
"see?" he whispered, his eyes locked on yours.
you let out a quiet breath before taking his other hand and guiding it to the center of your chest, your heart hammering just as hard beneath his palm.
a soft exhale escaped him before his fingers slid from your chest to cup your jaw. he caught your lips in a kiss, sealing his mouth over yours.
slowly, you broke the kiss and shifted off him, moving until you were kneeling between his legs at the edge of the twister mat. michael's breath caught, his arms falling back against the carpet, his fingers gripping the edge of the plastic mat as he watched you. the room felt impossibly quiet now, the low music from his stereo nothing more than a distant hum beneath the sound of his shallow breathing.
looking down at the waistband of his trousers, a fresh wave of nerves washed over you. you couldn't believe you were seeing michael — of all people — like this.
your fingers trembled as you reached out, your knuckles brushing the fabric. you worked the button of his trousers loose, the click of the metal loud in the quiet room. carefully, you pulled his zipper down.
michael's stomach rolled as he drew in a heavy breath, his abdomen tightening while you parted the denim and gently eased his underwear down just enough.
when he finally sprang free, your breath caught. he was thick, long, already glistening at the tip, the length of him pulsing faintly in the light.
tentatively, you wrapped your fingers around the base of him, giving him a soft, experimental squeeze.
michael let out a sharp hiss through his teeth, his eyes squeezing shut as his back stiffened against the side of the bed.
"o-oh— my—" he gasped, his knuckles paling where around the carpet under his hands.
"am i hurting you?" you asked, your hand halting.
"no, no," he rushed out between heavy breaths. he glanced down at your hand around him before lifting his eyes back to yours, his voice dropping into a shaky murmur. "jus'... 's real sensitive. your hands are cold."
you let out a breathy laugh. “‘m sorry.”
wanting to tease him a little, you extended your index finger. carefully, you traced the pad of your finger along the prominent vein running beneath his length.
michael let out a strained groan, his hips squirming weakly against the floor. you kept your eyes on his face, watching his eyelids flutter and his throat bob with every stroke.
when your hand reached the very top, you lightened your touch until it was barely there. using just the tip of your finger, you slowly circled the crown, swirling through the clear bead of pre-cum gathering there.
a loud whimper slipped from his lips, his hips jerking upward. he bit down hard on his lower lip, his chest rising and falling with uneven breaths. he didn't think he'd ever been more turned on in his life.
"please," he breathed, his voice cracking as his eyes grew glassy. "please don't tease me."
"but you like it, don't you?" you murmured, a smile tugging at your lips.
michael let out a strained sound, his head falling back as he stared helplessly at the ceiling.
"don't you, mikey?" you coaxed.
"don't... don't make me say it," he whispered, an embarrassed laugh slipping free as his shoulders shook.
you smiled but didn't press him any further. instead, you shifted closer, leaning down between his thighs as your hand stroked him with more purpose, your thumb smoothing over the ridge.
when you finally parted your lips and took the warm, wet tip of him into your mouth, michael let out a broken moan, gasping as you swirled your tongue around the crown. his eyebrows pinched together as he looked down at you.
your long lashes cast soft shadows against your flushed cheeks as your eyes lifted to meet his. his chest tightened. he couldn't stop staring at the way your lips moved around him, at the shine of your mouth every time you pulled back before taking him in again. you looked so pretty.
too pretty to be doing this to him.
every filthy thought he'd been too embarrassed to let himself have came rushing forward all at once, and for the first time, he didn't have it in him to push them away.
all he wanted was more. deeper. slower. again. he didn't know where one thought ended and the next began anymore. his hands flew straight up to cover his mouth, trying to muffle helpless whimpers spilling out.
and you took that as a challenge to see just how loud you could get him.
you wrapped your fingers firmly around his base, your hand acting as an anchor. you focused entirely on the very top. you parted your lips just enough to take the sensitive crown back into your mouth, using the flat of your tongue to apply a heavy pressure, dragging it flat across the ridge in long strokes.
above you, michael's entire body stiffened. a gasp caught behind his palms.
you didn't give him a second to recover. keeping your tongue flat against the underside of the tip, you swirled it in tight circles right over the slit, matching the pace with a pulsing squeeze of your hand at the base.
a high, broken whine tore from his throat, his hands flying to your head as his lower body gave a helpless twitch, his hips lifting off the carpet. he tried to ground himself, his long legs tensing, but god, you were killing him.
the slick sound of your mouth sucking him so greedily was so filthy.
michael's hips jerked upward again, pushing him deeper into your mouth.
just as he was about to apologize, you swallowed past the tightness in your throat and hummed against him. the vibration drew a pathetic little squeak from him.
you wrapped your free hand around the very base of him, twisting your palm as you slid it up to meet your lips, catching the trailing wetness before spreading it back down his length. your mouth settled into a slow, sloppy rhythm.
you pushed forward, taking his dick deeper down your throat than before. the heavy stretch forced a gag from your chest, tears welling up in your eyes and spilling over your lashes from the intrusion.
he was practically trying to run from you, backing up until his shoulders bumped against the edge of the bed, trapped between the frame and the pull of your mouth.
you kept your eyes on his, taking in every flicker of pleasure across his face, every flutter of his lashes, every pinch of his brows. you wanted to remember him exactly like this, committing every twitch of his jaw and every dark flush to memory.
watching him lose himself underneath you made your own core throb. you subtly pressed your thighs together, hoping the pressure would dull the ache. it didn't.
"w-wait, wait, 'm gonna— ah—"
his voice broke completely, a high, panicked whimper tearing through the room as his abdomen knotted.
michael panicked, realizing you weren't getting off. his hand frantically shot down to grip your shoulder, trying to pull you up and off him, desperate to keep you from getting a mouthful of something he was convinced would gross you out.
but you weren't a quitter.
you gently brushed his hands away, tightening your grip on his base without pulling away.
he came with a loud, broken groan, his hips giving three jolts forward. your name slipped from his lips in a breathless whine that you knew would replay in your mind for days. you held him tight through the tremors, swallowing down the hot bursts of his cum, continuing to suck softly even as his body shivered and went lax against the edge of the bed.
when the final twitch subsided, you slowly slid your mouth off him, the wet sound of the release echoing in the quiet of the bedroom. you swallowed the last of him, cleaning up the stray wetness along his length with a slow swipe of your tongue before sitting back on your heels.
michael was a puddle against the side of his bed. his chest was heaving in deep drafts, one arm flung over his eyes while the other lay limp across the carpet, his fingers still twitching every now and then. the deep crimson in his cheeks had spread all the way down his neck, disappearing beneath the collar of his shirt.
michael let out a weak little groan from beneath his arm as you tucked him back into his pants. slowly, he peeked out from under his elbow, his large, glassy eyes lifting to you as you climbed back over him.
he reached out, his fingers finding yours before gently pulling your hand toward him. he lifted it to his mouth, pressing a soft kiss into the center of your palm, his lips warm against your skin.
bringing his face close to yours, he leaned in, his eyelids fluttering shut as he pressed a tender kiss to your left cheek, then your right, his curls brushing against your face. when he finally found your lips, the kiss was slow and so, so sweet.
you pulled back just an inch, your fingers resting on his shoulders as you looked down at his flushed face. a playful smile tugged at the corner of his lips.
“i won, by the way.”
michael let out a quiet huff of a laugh, his shoulders shaking beneath you.
"you did not," he protested "the mat was slippery, 's all. it don't count."
"it does count," you laughed, finally climbing off him to sit cross-legged on the carpet.
"absolutely not. you fell right on top of me!"
"yeah, because you moved and made me fall!" you shot back, gesturing at the crumpled plastic. "you lost your footing, michael. just admit it."
“i didn’t lose because the game was rigged," he insisted.
"keep telling yourself that."
"y’know what, i will," he murmured, a soft grin breaking across his face.
you rolled your eyes, reaching over to help him gather up the ruined twister mat that was probably headed straight for the trash.
you were glad the awkwardness of the last few days had finally melted away. you and michael were still the same two idiots arguing over who won a game of twister.
the only thing that had changed was everything in between.
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im so bad at writing endings like GODDDDD
and twister positions
i had a bit of a diff vision for this originally but unfortunately i stink with words so i'll see if i can make up for it in a potenial p3
also his confession was (loosely) inspired by the intro of his song, i can't stop loving you :p
