i'd like to imagine michael dating a pretty pink princess who he loves to spoil. he also loves when you're mean.. teasin' you, making you pout to get what you want before he eventually gives in.. eek >.<
𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅ after you finally teach mature!michael how to facetime, you can call for special reasons! 𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅
description 𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅: michael would be gone a lot these days, and before he left this time, you taught him how to facetime! he’d do it all the time, talking to you while he was alone in his hotel room, but this time, it was a bittt different :)
warnings 𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅: phone sex, fingering, michael has a daddy kink :), use of dildo, masturbating, no use of y/n, use of names such as, ‘baby, princess, sweetheart, etc’ dirty talk, squirting, praise
pairing 𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅: mature!michael x controversiallyyounggf!reader
michael was in tokyo, and he left you at home all alone. you were so upset, and you missed him so so much. it was about 12am, and you felt like you were the horniest girl ever..
you were thrusting your fingers into your puffy cunt, trying to imagine they were michael’s instead, but your fingers couldn’t curl and hit the spots that he did. you needed him so damn bad, and couldn’t have him!
you knew he was still awake, so you grab your ipad, and you facetime him. after letting it ring for a few times, he answers, his face close to the camera like he’s still tryna figure it out..
“hey princess, what’s the matter? you look like you’ve been crying..” he says, holding his phone in his hand.
you felt like you were gonna faint, he had his glasses on, and his hair was kinda messy.. he looked absolutely delectable.
“mikey, i know it’s late, b-but i n-need you.. i can’t cum, v’been trying for like thirty minutes..” you whined, propping your ipad up at the bottom of the bed ..
“baby, what d’ya mean you can’t—“ he starts, then his eyes widen behind the lenses..
“my fingers won’t work, can you j-just talk me t-through it? please, i needa release..” you softly beg, spreading your legs to show him.. once he gets a view of your puffy cunt, and swollen clit, his whole demeanor changes..
“ohmygod.. girl you better warn me before you do somethin like that..” he muttered, smirking.
“mike, seriously.. i need help..” you whine..
“okay okay baby.. it’s aching that bad?” he coos, his hand already traveling down to the bulge in his silk pajama pants.. you nod and lift your legs a little..
you start to thrust your fingers slowly in and out, softly panting..
“there you go, baby.. lemme see you..” he says, biting his lip afterwards
after about 10 minutes of you fingering your self, and michael watching and talking, it still wasn’t working..
“mikey it’s still not working!” you whine is frustration, tears welling up in your eyes..
“i know baby, i know.. it’s okay, how bout this? go in my bottom drawer, princess. nightstand.” he coos, still stroking his cock.. you crawl over and reach down, grabbing something..
it was one of the many birthday gifts he’d gotten you, extra special. it was an exact replica of his dick, a dildo made especially for you..
“mikey, you said we—“ you try
“i know what i said, sweetheart.. you can use it.. give daddy a nice show..” he says, his eyes darkening
you lay back, lifting your legs up and running the tip up and down your slit.. you push the first few inches in..
“oh my gosh.. yes..” you whimper, biting your lip..
“ all the way, baby. just like how daddy gives it to you, push it in all the w-way..” he growls, whimpering at the end, because he was stroking his tip just right .. his head tilts back..
“j-just like daddy…” you whimper, pushing the rest of the length into you.. your toes curl, and you moves it a little..
“unt unt, what’d i just say? do it how i would, stroke it just like daddy does..” he groans, grinning when he sees your cheeks flush..
you pull it out slow, then slam it back in, exactly how he’d fuck you if he was here right now.. “y-yesyes..” you sigh, finally getting the pleasure you needed..
“there you go, baby.. there’s my good girl.. legs wider, sweetheart, let me see..” he coos.. he spits on his hand, and brings it back to his tip, panting ..
you notice that he’s jacking off to you, and it makes you even hornier.. “i wanna see..” you whine, thrusting the toy deeper into you soaking cunt..
“you wanna watch me, baby? yeah?” he says, propping the phone up on the bedside table’s lamp.. you bites your lip, watching his hand slide up and down his cock, his wrist twisting everytime he brung it down..
“f-feels just like you..” you whine, the dildo moving faster once you see his cock.. “wish you were here, daddy..” you pout, rubbing your clit with two fingers..
“ fuck.. i know, pretty baby.. ‘m sorry i had to leave you, daddy’s so sorry..” he hisses, his hips starts to buck up, meeting his downwards strokes..
the dildo was bulging in your stomach, just like he would! you whined, thrusting it harder.. “ohmygod i feel it.. it’s hittin my spot..” you whimper, your eyes crossing for a quick second when the toy hits the sensitive spot against your walls..
you fingers smack your clit, and michael gasps.. “good girl.. y’fucking yourself so good with that toy, baby, i’m so proud of you.. “ he whined , his other hand gently rubbing down his body and going straight to his heavy balls.. he squeezes and massages them, and his toys start to curl..
“you look so good daddy.. don’t stop.. don’t stop..” you gasp, your legs trembling a little .. you feel yourself starting to get close, so you start thrusting it in the familiar rhythm that michael does when he knows you’re gonna cum.
you thrust it fast a few times, then hold it inside you, before repeating the cycle over and over.. michael recognizes the rhythm and smirks..
“y’gonna cum, princess? gonna cum for daddy? hm?” he coos, stroking his base and squeezing his balls.. he lets out a low whimper, his eyes rolling back for a small second..
“yesyes, ohmygosh… daddy i wanna cum all over your dick, i miss you.. m’gonna cum all over it!” you whine, fucking yourself dumb..
“let go, sweet girl, i’m gon cum with you, i’m right there with you, pretty baby..” he whined, his toes curling in his socks ..
“oh goddd! fuck!” you whimpered, your pussy clenching down tight around the toy as you squirt, all over the toy and your ipad..
“that’s it baby, i’m c-cumming.. oh god, squirt for daddy just like thattt..” he whimpers, squeezing his balls while his cum spurts out against his stomach..
you rub your clit to ride out your intense orgasm, then you slowly pull out the toy.. “shit.. i got the sheets all wet..” you murmur, softly panting..
michael giggles on the line.. “did that satisfy you, baby?” he says, his cheeks flushed ..
“ mhmm.. you sleepy?” you coo, you could already tell by his voice.. he’d always get sleepy after a good orgasm..
he nods a few times.. “ okay baby.. go to sleep, i love you, call me tomorrow..” you says , blowing a few kisses at the screen..
“i love you more, sweet girl, i promise i’ll be home soon.. bye bye..” he says, then he hangs up..
you stare at the soaked ipad screen and the soaked sheets.. “ohmygod..” you huff, before getting up and starting to clean your mess..
princess’s note!! > this is filthy… i know i write a lot of smut, but i got some fluff in my drafts, so do yall want it? okay i hope you guys like this one, i love you all! <3
omg i'm so happy you're opening requests again! your work and writing keeps this community going <3 i was wondering if you'd be open to posting a part 2 or something of "a daddy's love" ? lol i really enjoyed that fic so much and the dynamic between michael and oc...much to think about. anyway, i'm happy we're mutuals :))
i'm happy to be moots with you too!! you asked and i shall deliver ( ꈍᴗꈍ)
Ａ ＤＡＤＤＹ＇Ｓ ＬＯＶＥ ＰＴ． ２ .ᐟ
TAGS: １８＋﹙𝓶𝓭𝓷𝓲 .ᐟ﹚, '84!michael, smut, teasing, kissing, daddy kink, frottage, clothed sex, Unknown Male OC, implied age gap, established relationship, etc etc. . .
status: requested.
w/c: 883 ⊹ ࣪ ˖
author's note - i wasn't planning on a follow up, but i couldn't resist the idea of mike acting like he's in heat over wanting his reward!! he wants to be good so badd, but daddy's teasin' him too much (｡ᵕ ◞ _◟)
y'all will be edged too, short and sweet like part 1!
Daddy pulls both his index and middle finger free from the hot confines of Michael's eager mouth. Both his and the noiret's eyes are locked on the spit-slick digits for a moment, before slowly rising to meet each other's. It's like something passed between them in that moment, a dizzying crackle of shared lust clouding their lungs until they could barely breathe.
Michael starts nosing at his cheeks, eyes squeezed shut and hands gripping onto his shirt like it was the only thing keeping him anchored. "Daddy," Michael mutters. "Daddy, please, I want it, want it so bad─"
The older man can't resist an open-mouthed chuckle when he turns his head just out of reach, allowing Michael's desperate, seeking lips to latch onto his neck. "Yeah? You want it? Poor thing." He uses one arm to hook the younger man's body close. "So pent up, when's the last time you touched yourself?"
Michael looks up from where he'd dipped his head, squinting up slightly at him for a moment to remember. His lips open to release a shaky breath before he can speak again. "Uhm, I don't..." then his lips give way to a pout, "Daddy..." he pulls back to sit up straighter, appearing a mix between confused and impatient.
"Don't start, Michael. Answer me."
"I... don't remember," the noiret splays his hands over Daddy's chest, before he shakes his head to himself, biting his lip.
"You don't remember?" Daddy asks, raising a brow at the other's puzzlement. "Think harder." He taps the young man's forehead twice with his free hand.
"It's been...," Michael pauses, realizing how ridiculous he probably looks, all confused like some clueless fawn. He cracks up, "I'm sorry, I'm havin' a hard time..."
"Yeah, cause all you're thinkin' bout is gettin' dick."
Daddy's unexpected retort makes him burst into even more giggles. The older man watches him laugh with a satisfied smile, before the noiret leans in to lay his head on his chest, exhaling into it. He hugs Daddy around his back. "That's your fault..." He hums to himself, still buzzing with arousal. "It was two weeks ago."
"Ahh," Daddy smiles, satisfied. "See? See how much clearer you can think when you're not cocknotized?"
"Daddy─!" Michael protests his vulgarity, pulling back again. Now it's his turn to laugh, it vibrates from his chest to Michael's, husky and deeply, deeply sensual.
"Did I tell a lie?" Daddy asks, using his hand to cup the back of Michael's neck possessively. Michael swallows again, shifting his hips so that his chest is pressing even further into the older man's sturdy one. "No," the noiret concedes, but his mind has clearly drifted again.
Daddy reaches to grip his hips with both hands again, steadying the younger man in place. "Tell me how much you want me, angel."
"I want you so, so much, Daddy...," Michael's hands can't help but feel the muscles of the other man's arms with wonder in his eyes as he spoke. "It's like I can't do anything but want you."
Daddy combs through his hair, slowly but deliberately, noting the way Michael instinctively relaxes into the touch. "Now tell me how much you missed me."
"I...," Michael has to take a moment, trying to keep his heavy breathing at bay. It doesn't help much, making his words breathless when he spoke. "I missed you a whole lot, Daddy," his wide doe-eyes, full of wanting, locked with Daddy's appearantly calm ones. Though his own want is clearly simmering underneath all that composure. "Missed you so much that I almost touched myself... way too many times, but I know you told me to wait for you. I tried to be good, but I'm not sure if I can take it anymore..." Michael almost kisses him, but he stops himself, adding quietly. "Please daddy... don't be cruel."
"Oh no, baby." Daddy murmurs. "I ain't bein' cruel... you know I just like rilin' you up." He brushes Michael's lips with his thumb, dragging down his bottom lip in particular.
"You want your reward?"
"Mhmm," Michael nods.
"Then take my belt off, angel."
Michael appears stunned for a moment, but quickly, his hands get to work, his fingers deft as they undo the older man's belt buckle. Clink.
"And take me out yourself," Daddy continues. "It's yours, ain't it?"
Michael pauses, his cheeks flushing a deeper shade of red. "Pardon?"
The other man snickers in amusement. "Don't 'pardon' me, you know what I said."
"You're so bad...," Michael resumes, shaking his head to himself with a barely suppressed smile.
"Mm, I know," Daddy's eyes were focused on the way Michael undid his pants without a hint of clumsiness. He's always been good with his hands, this boy. "Ah─!" The older man hisses under his breath, then he smiled again. "...You found it."
Michael's hand gently tugs his thick cock out of his boxers, its already hardened and throbbing in his hold. He looks relieved, undoing his own pants. "... I did."
The older man lets out a shuddering sigh when Michael holds the two of them together, the heat of each other's skin travelled between them with each rub or their slick cock heads against each other. The noiret leans his head back slightly to moan softly into the air.
Summary: Morning comes and it’s time to figure your relationship out
Era/Pair: History/Mature Era!Michael x SuccessfulCEOBlackfem!Reader
Tags/Warning: SEMI-Smut!! Dry humping, Eating disorders; Fluff and Smut; Masterbation; hurt/comfort; Chubby Michael; improper weight loss; TLC; pet names-mama, Bambi, mommy- is used; angst with a happy ending; fighting with Michael; make up; fluff
Part 1: Part 2: Part 3: Part 4: Part 5: Part 6: Part 7:
The morning sun was rude enough to shine onto your eyes as the light filtered through your window curtains. The pounding in your head made it hard even to open your eyes. You lay there seeing the red behind your eyelids, trying to force your brain to register that new day. There was a weight holding you down, and you fought it to sit up. It wasn’t until you looked down and saw the pale dotted arm that you remembered the early hours of the morning.
Michael was still here. Sleeping peacefully with his mouth slightly open. The eye bags that seemed to live under his eyes were slowly healing from the seemingly 16 hours of sleep.
You looked at Michael as he was lying on the bed; his cheeks were sunken, and they only made his eyes look more prominent. He looked peaceful, but it seemed like this was the first time he ever got a decent amount of sleep. That didn’t stop you from worrying, though; you wondered when the last time was he had a proper meal. When was the last time he ever sat down? When was the last time he was alone with his thoughts, and you’re afraid of that answer more than you were afraid to ask?
You found yourself studying him more only to realize that his skin didn’t have the usual shine. He looked pale. So pale that he looked sick. Losing weight isn’t the issue, but it was clear that his health was in jeopardy. He was losing it in his mind, and that was poisoning his body.
You were already concerned, blaming yourself for not dropping everything to follow him. Now, you were worried that your concerns were not welcome. You wondered if you even had the relationship anymore. Who are you even asking the questions or even showing your concern for him? Michael had screamed and shouted, and you left.
Then you wonder about your stance in his life, which clearly still meant something if he was still willing to be in your bed. He kept the key to your home, and he felt comfortable enough to sleep here. That was the biggest indicator. Michael had a hard time sleeping on a good day. It took you literal years to get his sleeping schedule to correct itself, often reminding him that he was allowed to rest and that it was allowed for his body to wind down.
You turned your body as best as you could to stare at the sleeping man. His breath fanned the one curl that refused to stay locked behind his ear. He still looked tired, but at least he was truly resting. You could feel his heartbeat as his chest rested over yours. The call and response of your hearts did nothing but make it harder for you to let him go.
The chilled air left goosebumps on the arms that trapped you within the comforter. Michael’s body was half under the covers and half out as if he wanted to swaddle you to make sure you didn’t leave. He looked adorable, but then again, when does he ever look bad? His cheeks had lost their fullness, but that didn’t stop the care that you felt warming your heart.
Stretching your body so that you could free one of your arms, you carefully began to untangle yourself. His body was so wrapped up in yours that it made it difficult to move without waking him up. That soon didn’t matter. His eyes opened, blinking rapidly. It took two minutes because his eyes locked with yours and he gave you a weak smile.
Michael licked them. His throat was feeling dry as he tried to find the words; eventually he settled on, “mmm… you stayed.”
You pointed to the water on the nightstand. Michael looked at you and then looked back; you gave him a dead stare. You knew he wouldn't be setting you free anytime soon. “This is my house, Bambi. You broke in, remember?”
"Bambi…" Michael said to himself. He scratched the back of his head. “Yeah.. I guess I did.”
Your hand found itself reaching for him, but you stopped yourself and got up from the bed. Michael's doe eyes followed you closely as you stood, his large, soft hands grabbing your own. He seemed possessed as he followed you down the hall, his eyes never leaving the back of your head. He then proceeded to spend the rest of the morning tied to you. His arms never left your waist, and his face never left your neck, even when you began to cook; Michael waddled with you to the refrigerator and back.
You both sat side by side and ate breakfast slowly. Michael pushed his food around, taking bites that were smaller than a pinch. He kept looking at you out of the corner of his eye as if he was worried that you would stop him. He felt sick looking at the full meal you made him and wondered if he could get away with just the two bites that he took. You never turned to him. You never even peeked at him, and that hurt him more than the bites of food.
"Mama, are you mad?"
"No, baby."
Quieter, Michael asked, "Should I eat?"
You looked over at his full plate and at his eyes that seemed to be scanning your face for a reaction. "Michael, you're grown. You can do whatever you like."
Michael paused. He watched you go back to your food before tentatively picking up his fork and matching your movements. He ate when you ate, and he chewed when you chewed. Little by little, until he didn't notice that his food was gone.
Michael couldn’t keep his hands off of you as he followed you back to the bed. He wanted to be sure that you were real and that you really let him stay with you, so he made sure that you were sitting facing each other. You both just sat there, looking at each other as more sunlight came through the windows. As the sun highlighted his pale skin, you grew worried, so you moved to shut the blinds before returning to the bed. The silence was killing Michael. You were looking through him, and it was making his heart shake. The anxious but excited mood he felt was something that he missed when it came to you. He took in the sight of you and felt as though his love never diminished by a second. He wasn’t sure if you felt the same; he was ready to stay by your side even if you hated him and moved him into the shadows of your life.
“Why did you do it?” You asked softly, breaking his concentration. He knew what you meant without you saying it right out. Why did he let himself be swayed? Why did he lash out? Why did he let you leave? Why did he come here?
Michael froze before feigning a small smile, “It was all too much. The voices…” he trailed off, picking at a thread in the bedsheets, “the voices and the noise, this was the only place where I knew I could sleep and I guess I was right,” he awkwardly laughed.
A faint smile showed itself on your lips as you watched him fumble over himself. Even in distress, he made you want to squeeze him.
“I’m sorry.” His eyes never left his lap, but his hands stayed scrunched into the edge of your shirt. “I was wrong. I shouldn’t have pushed you away. I was just so overwhelmed,” he cried. “It seemed like everyone was pulling me in every direction. My managers were saying one thing, my crew was saying another… and then you came in.
You stared.
Michael peeked at your face, his eyes darting back down as a heavy sigh left his chest. “I was scared.”
His voice was shaking, and his body started to match. He could feel his eyes stinging as tears threatened to come out. He opened his mouth, but a whimper was the only thing that sounded as your hand traced his cheeks.
Tears spilled over them when you spoke, “That’s all I wanted to hear. Michael you're never honest with yourself. You let others take pieces of you but what do you get in return?” You pull him into a crushing hug, you smoothed a hand down his back, rocking him as you continued to talk.
“I know you want to be perfect. I know that you want to be great, but Michael, at what point does losing yourself make you great? When does Michael Jackson become a role you fulfill instead of being who you are?”
He sobs into the quiet morning.
“Michael?” You asked after a few minutes when by.
“Hmm?”
“I think it’s time for you to figure out what you want.”
He lifted his head, his big eyes looking pitifully swollen. With his hair sticking up in every direction and his cheeks red as if he were blushing, it was a wonder that anyone could tell him no. In his clear anguish, Michael was the most adorable man anyone could lay eyes on. It made your heart hurt that this man, so gentle and giving, could be swayed by anyone, including you.
“Mama… what do I need to figure out?” His voice broke your stare, making you shy enough to avoid his gaze.
Another weak smile from that cherub face blessed you.
“I think you should take some time alone to think about it.”
Michael kneaded the covers. “A-Alone? Are you breaking with me?”
“No, Michael.” You said back.
“I-I can’t do that. I was to stay here with you.” He responded. His eyes shifted over the room. “Please don’t make me go. I can’t stand to see you turn your back on me again. You don’t know how that broke me. It was worse than any injury, any illness. I thought my heart would stop and I wanted it to. Maybe if it did, you would come back and look at me again. I should’ve let you leave in the first place, but now I’m gonna try my best to keep you here…” Michael trailed off, and he looked as though he was fighting to keep his voice…so please let me stay. I can do anything with you right here.”
Michael’s whisper of desperation broke your heart. You were always a weak woman when it came to this man. You began softly, moving closer to his body, “I’m sorry, Michael. I didn’t mean to leave the way I did, but you didn’t see how you looked in that bed. You were weak. Your eyes looked as though you didn’t know where you were. It scared me, Michael.”
Your face grew stern, making sure to catch his eye. “And I’ll be damned if I had to watch you lose yourself and then your life.”
You dared him to talk back, knowing that he knew how bad the situation was. His Bambi eyes seemed to shine. “You can stay here then. At least until you’re no longer feeling weak in health and in mind.”
Michael’s smile was so bright that you worried for your eyes, “I’m gonna stay here forever!”
He pulled you back to lay down again. You allowed him to ring his contagious giggle into your ear and squirm you into position. He wrapped his body around your own, which mirrored how he was last night; this time you faced his body.
Finally, silence entered the room as Michael calmed down. He stared at your lips, reminded of the last time you two kissed. It’s obviously been months, and suddenly his throat was dry. His hands kneaded your hips, fighting to either push you away or pull you closer.
“I wanna kiss you,” he blurted.
Michael grew embarrassed and forced himself to continue looking into your eyes. You inched closer, feeling his breath on your lips. “Nothing's stopping you.”
Michael wasted no time capturing your lips with his own. His hand moved to the back of your head, pulling you closer so that he could swipe his tongue against your bottom lip. You opened immediately, allowing Michael to deepen the kiss with his tongue licking into your mouth. A moan was swallowed when you bit his lips. Michael never let you move away, chasing you with a fervor and initiating another heavy round of moans and wandering hands.
Your lips parted enough that a string of saliva was the only thing that connected you two. Michael’s eyes opened slowly, wild and clearly hungry or more. His curls were a mess from your grips, and his hands were on your skin. The sounds of your heavy breathing and the wetness of your lips only made the kiss heavier. Michael was soon pushing you back on the bed so that he could slide between your legs. Michael rocked his hips into yours. The hard line of his dick rubbed against your panties. Michael was frantic, his hands shifting from your waist to your face, then down to your leg to pull it around his waist. His kisses grew sloppier when it was clear that he was feeling the wetness through his pants. You tilted your head back, letting out a choked gasp. You had forgotten how intense Michael was when desperate, and it was clear he was determined to remind you. Your body felt like it was being zapped by lightning every time he rubbed against your clit. He was applying just the right pressure at just the right pace. Sweat clung to your bodies, making your clothes almost see-through. The heat was stifling, making it almost hard to breathe. This didn’t stop the two of you; the room seemed to disappear within Michael’s kisses.
Michael moved his kisses to your neck. Michael’s hips pushed harder as if he was ready to move your panties to the side and slip right in. His mouth stayed open against your neck as his hectic rhythm drew more and more moans from you. You could feel the roughness of his sweat against your clit, and that made your orgasm come swiftly, you back arching into his chest. Michael never stopped moving, which only extended your high. The feeling was so good that tears were leaking down your temple. Michael felt as though he was melting as he used your neck to muffle his whines. He’s never felt this strung, and with you under him, letting him use you, only heightened his needs, especially now that he knew he made you cum just from the feel of his body.
“Mama…” he gasped, pulling back to look at you, “I’m close.”
You were sensitive, but you couldn’t help lifting your hips and making his eyes roll back, his mouth dropping open in a moan that almost made you cum.
“Be a good boy and cum in your pants for me, baby.”
“I’ll be good…” he huffed. “I’ll be so good…” His breath caught as his body stiffened. His hips started
You pulled him to your body. His body trembled as he settled on top of you, letting you rub his back. It took a minute for his body to calm down, and when it did, he immediately moved back to loom over you.
“I missed you so much my heart felt like it was bleeding. I realize that I can’t leave you alone.”
You looked into Michael’s eyes. The sincerity only made you melt into the bed. Cupping his face, you gently kissed his swollen lips. A sign that you wouldn’t leave him alone either. Michael drew in a shaky breath, his heart finally accepting that you were his again.
i adore your fics and hcs, i really loved the bladder control fluff fic too 😩
may i request mature era michael, age gap (ofc), bladder control smut?? any brat taming is of course welcome
thank you!!!!!! never stop writing i literally love your fics
Babyyy!!! I got a little (quite a lot) lost in this, I didn’t even originally intend to include watersports but welp, here we go😝 I WISH you like it and can’t wait to read your opinion🫶🏻🩷
𝐃𝐀𝐃𝐃𝐘 𝐓𝐎𝐋𝐃 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐒𝐎 — Michael Jackson x F!Reader
SUMMARY: When Michael receives a prestigious award in London, all he asks is for you to listen to one simple piece of advice before leaving the hotel. Unfortunately, stubbornness has always been one of your greatest talents. What starts as a glamorous night filled with champagne, jealousy, and public appearances quickly turns into a lesson neither of you will forget anytime soon.
WARNINGS: daddy michael, bratty!reader, age gap, established relationship, jealousy, world music awards 2006, bladder control, watersports, oral f!recieving, humiliation, punishment, possessive michael, smut, reader gets herself into trouble, michael is very smug about being right, mild angst, aftercare
Disclaimer! Reader is an adult in her mid-twenties!
WC: 4.7k
A/N: If you don't like it, just scroll!
-Baby
♡ ───── ♡ ───── ♡
You were in London, sitting in a chair in the hotel suite that Michael had booked for you. Currently being dolled up, two girls carefully painting your face into a glamorous work of art while another took care of putting your hair into a curly updo, some messy pieces framing your face.
Michael would be receiving the diamond award, for selling over 100 Million albums. Which, he surpassed that number by a great. You were immensely proud of him, jumping up and down in excitement as he had told you that he wanted you by his side.
He had asked you to match his look, black, sparkly and elegant. He trusted you, but maybe he should have known that your dress was going to be revealing, knowing your scandalous taste.
As they were finished, and helped you shimmy into your dress, a knock on the room was heard.
“Come in!” you said, holding up the dress against your chest as it was being zipped. The door opened, and Michael’s head peaked inside.
“Mikey, we just got finished, didn’t they do an amazing job?”
His jaw almost fell to the floor as he saw you. Not only because your hair and make up were sitting perfectly, making you look like the actual star of the show – but because when his eyes drifted down to your body, he found half the dress missing.
You gave him an expectant look, wanting him to confirm your words. He cleared his throat before smiling.
“They did” he said, making the assistants beam at the compliment before leaving the room. As they closed the door behind themselves, Michael just stared at you for a moment.
You did a little twirl, all smiley.
“Where is the rest of the dress, baby?” he asked, pointing to your bare legs.
You looked down on yourself once, before raising your head to his face with a pout.
“What do you mean the rest? Is it not sparkly enough?”
He blinked at you a few times.
“No, it is perfect, just a bit,” he thought about the right words, “short?”
The look on your face turned into offense.
“Daddy” you whined, “I spent hours searching for dresses, trying to match your suit, and now you say you don’t like it?”
He was quick to shake his head, coming closer and resting his hands on your hips.
“No, I love it” he mumbled, about to press a kiss against your cheek, but you were quick to pull away with shocked eyes.
“Makeup” you simply said, causing him to smile, and instead take your hand into his and press a kiss against your knuckles.
“You look amazing, and it matches me incredibly well,” he said, eyes softening, before narrowing them slightly, “but daddy is just a bit jealous”
You breathed out a laugh, placing your hands on his chest, and taking in his look too. He looked amazing. The black layers drew attention to his face, making his sharp jaw and warm eyes stand out even more.
“You’re staring” he teased, making you roll your eyes, and pull away.
“You too” you said absentmindedly before clasping some diamonds onto your ears.
He couldn’t deny that, and just opted to bite his lip as he took in the back of your thighs.
“Stop that look, daddy,” you said, meeting his eyes in the mirror, “we don’t have time and I am not letting you ruin my perfect look”
He chuckled, coming up behind you with a firm grip around your waist.
“I got it, baby” he whispered into your ear, never breaking eye contact, “We should leave soon, make sure to use the bathroom, okay?”
You scrunched up your face.
“I don’t need to go, I’m fine”
“We will be sitting there for multiple hours, and I don’t know when will be the next opportunity for the restroom with how occupied we will be. Just listen to daddy”
You rolled your eyes, and watched him leave the room. He would be waiting for you in the entry hall. But of course, stubborn as you are, you didn’t take his advice, not knowing you will regret it later into the night.
Michael awaited you with a smile, stretching out his hand as you finally came to him. You took it, letting him lead you out, the sound of your heels clicking against the floor following you on the way to the car.
As the car slowly approached the venue, flashing lights and screaming voices coming closer, you breathed in deeply once. He smiled at you, placing a large hand over your thigh.
“Nervous?” he asked, but you shook your head.
“Why should I be nervous, the most exciting guest of that event is my boyfriend”
He scrunched up his face in disapproval, making you softly laugh at him. You knew he didn’t like you talking about him like that.
From the moment that he stepped out of the car, your ears started ringing from the screaming, and your vision almost blurred from all the flashing lights. But you made sure to flash your prettiest smile through it all, holding onto Michael’s arm. Your duty was to look pretty next to him, he did most of the talking as you walked along the red carpet, multiple journalists screaming at him to answer them.
Michael’s aura changed entirely when he was standing in front of a crowd, powerful in another way. It was hard to put it into words, but it was incredibly attractive. The way he waved at fans, giving autographs and politely shaking hands of girls that were on the brim of passing out.
You took your assigned seats, your dress rising up even higher. His glance drifted down briefly, making him adjust his collar as he tried to keep a straight face. You were handed a tall glass of champagne, and you began sipping away on it while watching other artists speeches and performances.
Other celebrities came up to your table from time to time, greeting you with a smile before turning their attention toward Michael, briefly chatting before leaving again. You didn’t mind them barely acknowledging you, what mattered was only his attention. And he gave it to you, placing a hand on your thigh in a weak attempt to try and cover some of your skin, pulling the sleeves of your dress higher whenever they started dropping a little too low for his liking.
“Michael,” you warned, his eyes snapped towards your face, “stop it, you’ll rip them off if you keep pulling”
You crossed your arms in front of your chest, causing the soft flesh of your tits to spill out a little more.
“Okay, okay,” he whispered quickly, trying to untangle your arms, “I’m sorry baby, but don’t cross your arms like that”
You gave him a satisfied smile, raising the glass to your lips once more and finishing it.
It wasn’t long until they pulled Michael backstage, preparing him for his award.
Your skin tingled with excitement, you had read the speech he prepared, and you couldn’t wait for the rest of the world to hear it too.
As he walked onto the stage, the floor started vibrating by the noise of the crowd, your heart warmed as you saw his big smile. You listened to his speech, and rolled your eyes as he got flustered from all the cheering. It was unbelievable that this was the same man who slept in bed with you. He started thanking his fans, family, and lastly – you, to the end of the speech. Your smile faltered for a second as you heard your name. Looking down at your hands, you suddenly found them incredibly interesting. Anything was better than risking eye contact with Michael while he thanked you in front of thousands of people.
But as you looked up, you saw him hug and kiss the singer who announced him on the cheek. Your features hardened, jealousy tinging in your chest. And as he was performing We Are The World, the moment of him thanking you was completely erased from your mind, only replaying the moment of him kissing her cheek.
He came back to you with a beaming smile, award in his hand, but you only gave him so much as a side glance, sipping on the golden liquid.
“How was I?” he asked, taking his seat and placing the award on the table.
You shrugged, turning slightly away from him.
“You looked good kissing her” you muttered, jaw tight.
He sighed, reaching out a hand to reach for your shoulder, but it was swatted away quickly.
“Baby,” he whispered, leaning in closer, “please don’t make a scene, it was just her cheek”
“Mhm”
He took a deep breath, before his eyes found the four empty glasses sitting on the table.
“Baby, you drank all of that while I was away?”
You gave a weak nod, making his eyes widen. He called a waiter over, and had him bring you a tall glass of water. He didn’t need to drag you out drunk by the end of the night.
He thanked the waiter, and placed the glass in front of you.
“Drink up, I can’t have you drunk, what were you thinking, hm?”
But you ignored him.
“Baby” his tone was warning, so you gave him a fake smile before picking up the glass and chugging down half of it in one go, immediately turning back your attention to the stage.
It was at that moment, that you noticed the slight stinging in your bladder, making you sit up a little stiffer. Michael noticed instantly, but chose to ignore it. From what he knew, you were probably still replaying the scene of him and the singer in your head. But your squirming didn’t stop, you kept crossing and uncrossing your legs, shifting in the seat, and as you were offered another glass of champagne, you refused.
“What’s wrong?”
His voice startled you a bit, you were so focused on the ache in your bladder, that you had drowned out your entire surrounding. You didn’t answer him right away, just stared at him for a second.
“You know where the bathroom is?” you asked, voice coming out smaller than intended.
A look of realization crossed his face, narrowing his head at you with a raised brow. You avoided his gaze, beginning to jerk your leg slightly. He was quick to stop you, pressing it down with his palm.
“That doesn’t suit a lady” he said, eyes never leaving you, “you didn’t listen to me earlier, did you?”
“Mike, stop playing and show me where it is” you snapped, patience becoming thinner.
He lowered his voice and leaned in closer.
“Adjust your tone when you’re speaking to me, I might accept your bratty attitude elsewhere, but not here” he whispered sternly, a pause following before his eyes drifted to the still half full glass of water.
“Drink that up and I’ll think about letting you go”
Your eyes widened, and you looked at his face in shock.
“What the fu-” but you interrupted yourself, faking a smile as people approached Michael. Great. They all wanted to congratulate him to his success, one person left and another group coming right after, not giving you a chance to ask him again. You started sipping on the water, hoping he would notice and let you go, but even after you finished it, he didn’t even spare you a glance.
You wanted to argue with him so badly, stomp your feet on the floor and storm off in a tantrum, but the other celebrities never gave you an opportunity for that. You knew it was off limits to cause a scene like that, so instead you opted to shift and squirm in your seat. He did notice, but if you chose not to listen to him, you had to endure the consequences.
At one point, a thin layer of sweat laid on your forehead, and you grabbed onto Michael’s hand, squeezing, trying to somehow show him how desperate you were. But he only stroked your knuckles with his thumb in a soothing manner.
The evening slowly came to an end, and you were still struggling, pressing your legs together in a desperate attempt to soothe the ache in your bladder while Michael laughed with other men, all standing together in a circle.
A waiter came by, offering more glasses of champagne. Michael reached out, and handed you a glass without a word. Your lips parted slightly, wanting to protest, but he gave you that look.
Speak, and it will become worse.
Your fingers dug into his arm, surely leaving bruises as you took the tiniest sip of the liquid.
“I think this will be our last drink, I am suffering from jet lag” he told the others, who all agreed, starting to talk about the different time zones. But you didn’t listen to a word, hope sparkling in your eyes. If you finished this quickly, you would leave sooner, right?
You gulped down the glass with big sips, everyone too focused on Michael to notice. You pushed the empty glass into his free hand, but he only looked at you with a smile, taking it and placing it on a nearby table. That was all, before he turned his attention back.
You frowned. He didn’t even have a drink of his own, and you finished yours, so why were you still standing? He continued talking for another ten minutes, before saying his goodbyes and separating. As you were far enough from any people who could hear you, you stood still, holding onto Michael’s sleeve. He turned, looking at you with expectation.
“Show me now” you demanded, letting out all the brattiness you had held in earlier.
“Excuse me?”
“Don’t play dumb,” you whispered, “I need to go, so take me to the bathroom, Michael”
He chuckled, before grabbing your wrist and pulling you after him. You wanted to shout at him, tell him to let you go, but it still wasn’t private enough. Nowhere. Not in the hallways leading to the back entrance, not the parking garage. Only once you were in the back of the limousine, could you snap at him.
“What the actual fuck are you doing?” you yelled at him, breathing turning heavy as you still pressed your knees together.
“Language, princess” he warned, “It’s your own fault, if you had listened to me, you wouldn’t be in this situation”
“No, I wouldn’t be in this situation if you had let me go,” you spat, crossing your arms, “...fucking pervert” you whispered under your breath.
Something inside Michael snapped upon hearing those words, and he stared at you for few beats, eyes glistening with anger. He pulled you into his lap roughly, making you sit with your back against his chest. You yelped, feeling the liquid slosh inside of you.
“Michael! What-”
“I dare you to say that again” he interrupted you, hands gripping your hips, “watch what happens”
“You are a pervert, why else would you watch me suffer for so long, hm?”
You were being rude now, and you knew it, but there was nothing you could do to stop the words coming from your mouth.
“I see” was all he said, before sliding his palm right above your bladder, and pressing down slightly. You whined, trying to shoo his hand off and pressing your legs closed even tighter.
“Stop” you mumbled, still pushing at his arm, but his grip was too strong.
To your luck, a knock on the window sounded through the car, signaling you to have arrived at the hotel. He pushed you off of his lap, and exited the car, not even helping you out. He walked ahead, without looking back. His stride confident and heavy. You tried following him with quick, tiny steps, heels clicking against the concrete. But he didn’t wait for you, didn’t help you walking while your feet were aching and bladder swelling.
He opened the door to the suite, and as you shut it behind you, you hurried to kick off your shoes. Almost sprinting to the bathroom. Michael was behind you quickly, holding onto your upper arm, guiding you through the suite and toward the small kitchenette, stopping only once your back hit the marble counter.
You whined, stomping your foot weakly.
“Mikey, please”
“A-ah, none of that. I’m a pervert who enjoys seeing you like this, aren’t I?” his eyes gleamed, he was furious, and you knew not to cross any more lines.
“Daddy,” you started, placing your hands on his chest, “You know I just said that out of frustration”
But Michael knew you better than that, he knew this was your weak attempt of getting your will and out of the conflict.
“I don’t know anything,” he said, before turning you around, closing the distance between you. The edge of the counter pressed right into your full bladder, making you wince as Michael pushed his crotch even further into your behind. “I just know a stubborn little girl who won’t listen to me, and now she has to live with the consequences”
Your fingers clawed at the cold marble desperately, as you tried to push him back. You shook your head.
“No, I listened to you all night, I didn’t cause a scene, and I waited for you to take me to the bathroom without a word”
A small chuckle escaped him.
“And before that? When I told you to go before leaving, hm?”
A sharp pain seared through your lower belly, making you bend over the counter a little.
“None of this would’ve happened if you listened to me, baby” he said, smoothing a hand over your back to soothe you, before reaching for the zipper, and slowly undoing it.
“What are you doing? I swear to God, Mikey, I can’t-” you interrupted yourself with a whimper, as the dress slid off your body and pooled at your ankles, leaving you in the set of black underwear you were wearing.
“Don’t use God’s name in vain” Michael scolded, though he pulled you away slightly from the counter, his hand sliding down to your bladder. You rolled your eyes, but sighed in relief.
“It’s so swollen, baby, don’t you need to go?”
Oh-oh, not that tone. The one that tells you he’s amused.
“Yes I do, that’s what I have been trying to tell you the whole time” you mumbled, leaning your head back on his shoulder as he caressed your lower belly gently.
“Turn around” he ordered, and you did, hands flying to his shoulders in surprise as he grabbed you and lifted you onto the counter.
“Daddy, please, I will do anything you want, but let me pee”
He shook his head, taking his place between your legs and placed a kiss on your cheek.
“Not yet” he whispered into your ear, before starting to place kisses along your neck. Your eyes fluttered shut, and for a moment you forgot about the pain, your fingers raking through his hair as he placed open mouthed kisses on your skin. It wasn’t until another sharp cramp tore through you, making you wince, and try to close your legs. But Michael’s body in between them stopped you. He caressed your bare thighs, squeezing the soft flesh.
He slowly guided you to lay back, prying your legs back open as you squeezed them shut. You were genuinely on the verge of leaking, a hand instinctively flying down to cup your clothed pussy. His eyes were hot on you, and you let out a breathy whimper, your cheeks reddening.
“Daddy it hurts” you said, voice small, but he only smiled at you.
“I know baby, and daddy’s sorry, but you gotta learn your lesson”
His fingers hooked underneath your panties, pulling them off swiftly and revealing your glistening folds, the cold air sending a shiver up your spine. You pushed yourself up on your forearms in shock as Michael leaned his head down, and you were quick to stop him with a hand against his forehead.
He met your eyes with confusion.
“Y-you can’t do that now, I’m serious, I have to pee really badly” your voice trembled with panic, you were almost begging at this point. He gave you a crooked smile, before gently prying your hand away.
“Yea, so if you don’t want to pee in my mouth, you should hold it”
A look of horror crossed your face, as he mentioned the literal worst outcome of this situation. You watched, as he lowered his head once more, arms wrapped around your thighs, his palms resting on the upper side.
He licked a slow stripe over your folds, humming upon tasting you. He repeated that a few times, gazing up at you during the whole process. You felt him sucking your swollen clit between his lips, causing you to moan out, a hand flying into his hair. He let go of you with a pop.
“Hands off, princess. Let daddy enjoy his meal”
A small gasp escaped you, but you obeyed. And while his mouth sucked on you knowingly, licking in just the right way, you could barely focus on it. Your whole concentration was on clenching together your walls, trying to hold it in.
The sight of Michael between your legs was perverse. He hummed against you, brows furrowed and eyes dazed as if he was drunken. You tried to press your legs together again, trying, desperately, needily to ease the pain, but he didn’t allow you to.
A familiar knot started building inside you, his mouth sucking your pearl inside his mouth repeatedly. It was hard to tell the feeling of your approaching orgasm, and your aching bladder apart. Michael had done this a thousand times, he knew how to move to make you cum instantly, and you were teetering on the edge already.
You shook your head, panic rising in your chest as whimpers and whines kept spilling out of you.
“no no no, stop, daddy stop” you begged, legs beginning to tremble, his eyes still stared into your own, a glimmer of excitement sparkling in them. “’m gonna cum” you whimpered, and he was quick to pull off, straightening himself before leaning over you. You exhaled shakily, finally squeezing together your legs. It helped, but not for long.
Michael’s lips and chin were glistening with your arousal, and he gave you a smile, before leaning down and giving you a kiss. You could taste yourself on his lips, your cheeks reddening.
“You taste so good, don’t ya, princess?”
But you couldn’t focus on his words, closing your eyes in concentration. Your breathing became uneven, and you were so distracted that you hadn’t even noticed him unzipping his pants, taking out his hard dick and giving it a few strokes.
Your eyes snapped open as you felt him aligning himself with your hole.
“I can’t, daddy, please, if you put it inside I can’t hold it anymore”
Tears sprang to your eyes, the back of your throat burning with the urge to cry. But Michael ignored your pleading, pushing himself inside you slowly, a staggered groan leaving him.
“Fuck baby, stop clenching so hard around me”
You tried pushing him off, a hand coming on his clothed abdomen, but he wouldn’t budge.
“Can’t” you whimpered, toes curling.
He started moving his hips in hard thrusts, the fat tip of his cock pushing up into your bladder painfully.
“Know you can, baby, y’my good girl, right?” he breathed, and you nodded, though still couldn’t unclench. Your bladder was so dangerously close to overflowing, with the way his cock drilled into you.
What he did next, left you in panic, pain and had tears rolling down your cheeks. He placed both of his hands over your bladder, and leaned his weight down on it, the pace of his thrusts never faltering.
“God,” you gasped, all of your pride leaving you, “daddy, please, it’s going to come out”
You started sobbing, but it didn’t stop him, he furrowed his brows in pleasure.
“Good, just let go baby”
You gasped in disbelief, but he put even more of his weight onto your bladder. Before you could protest or stop it, you felt yourself leaking. Michael felt the hot liquid on himself, and pulled out to watch the disaster happen. Despite closing your legs, you couldn’t stop the trickle that soon turned into a steady stream.
You covered your face with both hands, sobbing into them as your fluids spilled over the counter and down to the floor with a splashing sound. Michael rubbed his thumb into your knee, trying to soothe you.
Your ears were burning with embarrassment, and you hated him in the moment. His eyes didn’t leave your core until the last drop flowed out, and he didn’t waste time to push himself back into you, standing in the puddle as he fucked into you with a brutal pace.
You yelped, and tried pushing him off of you.
“Stop it, baby,” he groaned, “you know you don’t stand a chance, just listen to me pretty girl”
His cock grazed your cervix deliciously, pleasure mixing with the still faint ache of holding for too long.
“If daddy tells you something, from now on you will listen, right?”
You avoided his gaze, angry at him for dragging you through this humiliating procedure. One of his hands reached out and grabbed your face harshly, turning it up into his direction.
“Right?”
You mewled, but nodded, pleasure overtaking your body as his thumb came down on your clit, rubbing in slow, knowing circles.
“Use your words” he ordered, his own voice trembling now.
“Yes, daddy” you gasped, your orgasm approaching hard and fast.
“There you go, baby, that’s it” he moaned, picking up his pace.
Your legs started shaking around him, your toes curling and he knew you were about to cum, his own release not far either.
“Come on baby, hold it a bit longer, hm? ‘m close”
You shook your head, not to be a brat, but because you actually didn’t know whether you could do it.
Your orgasm rippled through you violently, the one that had you holding your breath and seeing stars, legs trembling. He spilled his hot seed inside of you upon feeling your walls flutter around his cock, grunting deeply into your neck as he collapsed onto you.
He took a moment to even out his breath, and only lifted himself off of you after hearing your sniffling. He pulled out of you, and watched as his cum spilled out of your hole, mixing with your other fluid on the floor.
He pulled you into his arms, holding you close. You clung to him immediately, burying your wet face in his shoulder.
“Why would you do that” you sobbed, embarrassed.
He kissed your cheek softly, carrying you to the bathroom.
“Because you won’t listen to me when I use words”
You knew that was right, words only rarely worked, you needed more to understand. But you didn’t admit that, just kept clinging onto him. He placed you onto the counter gently, before running the both of you a bath.
You tried covering your body with your arms, still ashamed. The water was still running, as Michael approached you, taking off his shirt in the process.
“I know you’re embarrassed” he said, leaning his forehead against your own, “but daddy only did it because he loves you”
You narrowed your eyes at him, though the rest of your features softened unwillingly.
“And,” he smiled, “I kinda liked it”
You punched his chest, before pushing yourself off the counter and testing the water with your foot.
“I didn’t mean it earlier, but now I think you might are a pervert”
He laughed, walking over to you and hugging you close to him from behind.
“Come on, tell me you love me” he pleaded, biting into your shoulder and making you wince.
“I love you” you said, anger clear in your voice despite smiling.
summary. the best nights are always spent with your girlfriend as she takes you to your peak.
❛ janet jackson 𝑥 𝒻 black woc!reader ❜ ╱ 𝓶.list 𓂋 mdni . she talks you through it . obviously sucking on janet's tits. dommy mommy janet & subby reader. janet's refers to herself as momma & mommy. nicknames ( baby , honey ). teasing. praising. fingering ( reader receiving ). dedicated to @cinnamoncunt ℘ 1.141k
𝓻𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬⠀ ⠀𝐚𝐫𝐞⠀ ⠀𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝⠀!
nothing but the sounds of muffled whimpers and gentle praise fills the four walls of the bedroom.
"that's it, baby," janet's voice is honeyed warm as a her hand comes to smooth down your face, the repetition of the action causes your eyes to flutter shut, "take what y'need, mama's got you." the reference of the name to herself has your thighs shifting beneath the silky sheets, an attempt to get any friction you can.
and it doesn't go unnoticed by her. narrowed eyes bounce between where your lips, plump and glossy from your own saliva as you suckle at her nipple to where the lower half of your body hides. evident that your greediness is once gain overtaking you, your hips rocking and knees protruding from the sheets from you're pushing your thighs together helplessly.
janet's free hand takes the hem of the sheets and yanks them back to where they flop back lifeless at the edge of the bed. revealing you rubbing thighs in all their glory, sleep shorts ridden far up that they're no longer visible to her eye-line.
"got a problem, huh," her tone tipping on the edge of condensation causes embarrassment to spread throughout you, stilling you legs now attention brought to your neediness, "unt uh, don't stop now."
pulling off of her breast with a pop, "it's not enough," you mumble, barely able to meet the older's eyes.
"it's what? can't here you, honey," the hand that was soothing down the side of face dips and takes hold of your chin, "gotta speak up f'me, y'know i don't understand mumbling," she expresses, the gentle disciplinary reminder alone has your toes curling.
upon releasing your chin from her grasp, it gives janet the time to appreciate the beauty. you're in her arms, in her bed, at her mercy as you're still staring up at her with hazy eyes, with your lips still swollen from her allowing you to toy with her breast at your interest, and a mess in between your thighs that's all hers.
"janet," you whine, dragging out her name. her gaze snaps back to you, quirking her eyebrow up, "need you," it's said less whinier and a little more softer, but you made sure that it's said clear.
this is her favorite game. "what d'you need, baby?" she knows the answer is clear as day, but she can never not play with you a little. getting you all worked up and frustrated until you decide the ache is far worse than the embarrassment of telling her what you need.
whines only ensue, "need you," squirming, antsy from janet's antics, "touch me, please," it came out far more desperate than a plea for your pleasure, and the squirming only causes the friction you need oh so bad.
"touch you where," she asks, voice seductive and teasing as her hand raises to swipe a finger across your swollen lips, "here? d'you need a kiss?"
when you shake your head the woman acts offended for a short second, "oh, okay well," hand traveling down before it rest just over your covered breast, the small sleep tank leaves nothing to the imagination as your nipples are already pebble beneath the tank, "touch you here?" she asks again, her pointer finger and thumb taking a hold of your clothed nipple to pinch and roll lightly.
pressing your face into janet's chest to stifle your small moans, you hand wrapping around janet's to push it away. both overwhelmed and underwhelmed by the pleasure not coming from where you need it most. "no," you croak out from against her chest.
the same hand that toyed with your nipple snakes down past your breast to your naval to hover just above your clothed mound. "you gon' tell mommy where you need her so she can help you?"
your chest heaves, a shaky hand comes down to cover janet's moving both further down to rest over your clothed cunt, bucking your hips when the heel of her palm press against the dampness. "here," you're helpless, mind completely gone other than the need to have janet's hands on you.
"wasn't that so easy?" she teases, knowing that telling her what you need from her still makes you flustered, "don' worry i'm gonna take care of you." her head dipping down to the crook of your next to place a string of kisses along your bare shoulder.
her hand slips past the band of your sleep shorts and is immediately met with the sticky mess between your thighs. "no panties?" teeth lightly grazing your shoulder before nipping at it, "so filthy," she purrs as her middle and ring finger draw steady circles against your clit.
"please," both a whisper and plea, the waves of pleasure quickly overtaking your senses.
"i know, jus' relax," she soothes, fingers traveling to your leaking hole, circling it just as she does to your clit a few times before sinking a digit into your heat, shushing you when your whimper turns into a desperate moan as your head lulls back.
and upon adding another finger the sounds that filled the bedroom only became more obscene between your moans and squelches from your pussy as janet's fingers pump in and out.
turning your head, eyes barely open from the ecstasy of janet's nimble fingers and the bump of her palm against your swollen bud when your cunt sucks her fingers back in. but instead of leaning against her chest, you latch back onto one of her breast again. leaving sloppy kisses right before taking her hard nipple in your mouth, swirling your tongue around the bud, drawing a few low hums from janet.
your hole contracts around janet's fingers, "almost close?" again, she asks a question she knows the question to, but it's confirmed when you give a small nod, still attached to her breast, letting your eyes flutter shut once again this night, "cum f'me when you're ready, honey," keeping her pace the same to get you to your peak.
and it doesn't take long until your body stills, mouth unlatching from janet's breath allowing it to fall open into a silent moan. hips bucking and eyes screwed shut when you're tipped over the edge of release, closing your thighs around janet's hand.
"there you go," she coos against the shell of your eat, removing her slick covered fingers from your ruined cunt, but keeping her palm pressed against your cunt as you fall down from your high, "did so good."
her free hand caresses the back of your neck, toying with your little baby hairs before squeezing to signal you to peel your eyes open. looking back into janet's brown eyes, you're met with nothing but warmth and love, a coy smile on your face just before she dips down and connects your lips in a tender kiss.
janet and reader meet and reader does one of janet’s tattoos or piercings it can be her nipple one her septum one of her christina one 🫣🤭lol it doesn’t matter and during the session reader and janet have some tension as they talk about certain things regarding pleasure and they do it right there in the shop
any time, any place ❥ janet jackson
PAIRING: 90s!janet jackson x black!fem!reader
SUMMARY: inspired by her song “Any Time, Any Place” + in which Janet comes to your shop and asks you to pierce her navel, but things start to heat up between the two of you after a suggestive comment from her. 🩷
AUTHOR’S NOTE: i saw this TikTok & the words “dom fem” jumped out at me… so that alone should tell you how this is gonna go 🌚
you maneuvered around your room of the piercing shop as you cleaned up the area, sterilizing your equipment that were used on the last customer you had and disinfecting the piercing seat. you hummed quietly under your breath to a song that had been stuck in your head for the past hour, but the sound of footsteps made you pause mid-hum as you turned your head and locked eyes with your coworker Mandy, who was approaching your area.
“hey, i’m about to leave. just wanted to let you know before i actually left you here all alone,” Mandy smiled, making you smile back at her, as you hummed softly in response and tossed away your disinfectant wipes before pulling off your gloves and tossing those as well, “see you tomorrow, honey.”
“see you tomorrow, Mandy.” you grinned as you waved her goodbye and she waved back before walking away, her footsteps growing quieter and eventually disappearing once she walked out of the shop.
it wasn’t unusual for you to work the closing shift alone, but the silence that followed when your last coworker would leave felt deafening. after busy days, you didn’t mind it very much, but there would also be days where you got used to the noise and needed something to fill the quietness, so you’d eventually end up playing music from the little speaker you had stashed in your bag.
however, before you could reach for it, the sound of rhythmic chiming bells caught your attention, symbolizing that someone had come into the shop, and you raised your head as the sound of the bell at the front counter being tapped twice hit your ears.
turning your head, the clock on the wall read ‘8:10 P.M.’, approximately 50 minutes before closing time, and your eyebrows slightly furrowed in confusion at the revelation. who the hell would be getting a piercing this late at night?
nonetheless, you left your section and walked down the hallway towards the front counter as your mouth instinctually opened to greet the customer inside the shop, but you paused once you realized who the culprit was that came to visit you this late.
Janet.
“i’m not too late, am i?” Janet’s soft honey-like vocals filled your ears with a teasing tone and you grinned in response as you let out a soft chuckle and walked around the front counter to get a better look at her, leaning up against it and crossing your arms.
“i should’ve known you’d pull somethin’ like this.” you laughed lightly as you slightly shook your head and Janet grinned innocently at you, a soft giggle falling from her mouth.
“somethin’ like what?”
“like comin’ to see me during closing time ‘cause you know i’ll be the only one here.”
Janet’s innocent grin contorted into a proud smile at your words and she raised her hands in defense, though you could tell she was only bluffing, “can’t i just come by and get my belly pierced like every other customer?”
that question would’ve harmless if anyone else had asked it, but because it was Janet asking, you knew she was only teasing you. she wasn’t a normal customer, and the relationship the two of you had wasn’t necessarily “normal” either — you were only supposed to be friends and nothing more, but recently, some tension had somehow spiked between the two of you and it seemed to only intensify as time progressed.
nonetheless, you acted oblivious to the shift between you and Janet to preserve your friendship with her, but Janet didn’t. in fact, she was the reason the tension had been spiking and intensifying because she’d go out of her way to do or say something to you that she knew would arouse you and make you timid, which always worked because she knew just how to get you and just how to read you.
“you couldn’t have come earlier to get your belly pierced?” you playfully huffed, turning on the heels of your feet, as you gestured for Janet to follow you and the two of you walked down the hallway towards your section of the piercing shop.
“you want your shop to be swarmed ‘cause people saw Janet Jackson come in?” Janet asked in amusement, emphasizing her name, as you snorted and you let out a giggle, slightly shaking your head while she smiled triumphantly, “that’s what i thought. now c’mon and piercing my belly!”
“girl, don’t rush me,” you laughed, peering over your shoulder and playfully glaring at Janet, as the two of you walked inside your section and you walked towards the sink in the room to wash your hands and put on gloves, “go sit your impatient ass in that chair and gimme’ a sec.”
“actually, i have a question before we get started,” Janet announced as she walked towards the chair but didn’t move to actually take a seat, her pretty eyes remaining on you and watching your every move, “if you don’t mind, of course.”
your hand paused against the handle of the sink before you could turn faucet on and your head turned as you looked back at Janet, who now hand an unreadable look on her face, “what is it?”
“well, some of my friends told me that my stomach’s too… toned for a belly button piercing, and that they think my body’ll reject the piercing because of it,” Janet explained as she rested one of her hands against her hips and used her other hand to nudge the hem of her top up just enough to expose her belly button, “you think that’ll happen?”
“J, that depends on your anatomy and the healing process, not how toned your abs are,” you chuckled softly, letting go of the sink’s faucet handle, as you walked over to her and squatted down in front of her, gently resting one of your hands against her lower stomach and critically eyeing her belly button, “i’ve seen plenty of belly buttons to know that there’s nothin’ wrong with yours. whoever said that clearly isn’t a piercer.”
Janet looked down at you silently for a moment before her mouth curled up into an enticing smirk and she reached down as she pushed your hair out of your face and trailed her fingers down to your jaw, hooking them underneath your chin and slightly tilting your head back to properly look up at her.
“you look really good down there, y’know that, baby?” Janet asked sultrily, slightly tilting her head, as she gently bit down on her bottom lip and your breathing caught at her words, realizing you had fallen right into her trap without even thinking twice, “anybody ever told you that before or am i your first?”
“…Janet,” you huffed softly, a small sheepish grin reluctantly finding its way into your face, as you looked up at her and watched her smirk slightly widen, “you did this on purpose, didn’t you?”
“in my defense, someone did actually tell me that. but yeah, i did this on purpose,” Janet chuckled lightly as her thumb gently rubbed against your chin and her fingers splayed across your jaw, “you didn’t answer my question though, pretty girl.”
you parted your lips to speak but paused for a moment, the position you were crouching in suddenly dawning on you and making you more timid, “…you’re my first…”
“can i be your first somethin’ else?” Janet cooed teasingly as her other hand grabbed yours on her abdomen and she lowered it to the waistband of her low-rise jeans, causing your breathing to hitch for a second time while your eyes flickered between her face and her hand on top of yours.
“my… first what?” you asked quietly, your voice now barely audible, as Janet smirked at you and tucked her bottom lip between her teeth again, slightly adjusting her hold on your face and resting her thumb against your jaw instead.
“the first girl you’ve ever eaten out at your job.”
you don’t remember how it all went down — quite frankly, it happened so fast that you were still trying to wrap your head around everything — but all you could focus on at the moment was the sound of Janet’s moans, her filthy praise, and the way her hands held onto your hair and guided your mouth wherever she wanted it.
her legs were spread wide and dangled off of the side of the chair as you sat on your knees with your mouth attached to her center, your lips and tongue working feverishly just like she wanted it while your arms sat wrapped around her thighs to keep them open. her fingers were tangled in your hair, occasionally tugging at a few strands and earning pathetic whimpers from you, and one of her hands shifted to hold onto the back of your head as she moaned out and looked down at you, watching you eagerly devour her just as she ordered you to.
“oh, look at you, baby,” Janet moaned as she lightly nipped at her bottom lip and rolled her hips against your face, “such a good girl f’me… so eager to please me with that pretty mouth you got.”
you moaned against her at her words and your eyes flitted upward to meet hers as you opened your mouth a bit wider and aimed to cover her entire center in warmth, your tongue darting out and laying flatly while you began sloppily french-kissing Janet’s slick pussy. suckling and wet, squelching sounds filled the room and echoed off of the walls as Janet’s moans harmonized with the noises, all of them combining to create a sound of pleasure and harmony.
“uh-huh, that’s it. keep goin’, baby, i’m almost there… oooh, you gon’ make me cum all over your pretty lil’ face.”
“mmh, look at you down there… even with your face all wet, you’re so damn beautiful, honey.”
“a-ah!— right there, baby! oh, yes! yes, y-yesss!”
Janet continued to moan out to you and fill your ears with the dirtiest praise you’ve ever had a woman say to you until her orgasm eventually rocketed through her and she came on your face, a shudder rushing through her body while her head fell back and her back slightly arched.
a small furrow formed between her eyebrows and a soft mewl fell from her lips as her jaw went slack and her legs slightly jerked due to her orgasmic aftershocks, a heavy exhale falling from her lips while you slowly ate her through her lustful daze.
if there was one thing you were completely sure about at the moment… it was that nobody could ever know about what happened here tonight.
⋆ ˚｡⋆୨Synopsis: You absolutely suck at math so your mom decided to find you a studying partner who just so happens to be Janet Jackson, but when you go over to Hayvenhurst to have help studying things go a bit off the rails...
⋆ ˚｡⋆୨Warnings: Smut! Minors D.N.I, use of Y/N, Nerd Janet x Reader, Jackie Marlon and Tito hit on you, Janet steals an adult magazine, lowkey dom Janet, teasing, fingering, overstimulating and squirting! Once again black reader in mind (not specified) and any era for Janet.
⋆ ˚｡⋆୨WC: 2k
⋆ ˚｡⋆୨Authors Note: I don't really know what to say- I seen Janet with glasses and I just HAD to make a fic about it. P.S some words are meant to be emphasized or in bold i'm far too lazy to fix it tho sorry! Go into this fic with caution as I was very tired when writing this but pls leave tips in the comments and enjoy!
" Seriously? Oh my god, my mom's gonna kill me... " You muttered under your breath as you stared at the paper before you. " A D-, did you even listen to a word I said when I was helping you study? " Janet said, frustrated that her efforts to help you had clearly gone to waste as you failed another test. Math wasn't your strong suit, so when your mom brought up the idea of getting you a study partner, you didn't argue with her because god knows you needed someone who knew what they were doing to help you. Janet had first come up to you as you were studying-well-attempting to study from your textbook in your school's library and sat down next to you. You lifted your head slightly to look at her, very quickly realizing who she was. "Hi! I'm Janet, I'm here to help you study." Janet said enthusiastically. "Hi Janet, it's nice to meet you. I'm Y/N." You extended your hand out to shake Janet's.
It had been roughly a month since you and Janet first met, and although she was very helpful every time she'd help you study you were always focused on other things. You'd begun to notice the way her eyes would light up when certain problems were brought up, the way she would bite her lip when she was extremely focused, and how she always seemed to listen to you so attentively. Sometimes when Janet would come over to your place, you two would go from her helping you on a certain problem, to you two falling over in laughter over something stupid. Whether she noticed or not, you had begun to like her way more than just as a studying partner, which is probably why you failed another test. It wasn't that Janet wasn't helpful, it was that you were more focused on her than your work.
"I'm sorry Janet, I don't know what it is I just-" "It's fine. Here, how about you come home with me and we can go over what you got wrong?" Janet suggested. You looked up at her and nodded your head. "Okay then, cmon let's go we've got no time for you to mope over this." Janet said as she pulled you up from your seat.
Eventually you both made it to her car, and to be honest you were shocked. You knew Janet was rich and such and she probably had a nice car but you didn't expect this. Janet made her way to the driver's seat and urged you in.
As Janet drove, you watched as her perfectly soft hands gripped the wheel. You felt like such a weirdo but you just couldn't help yourself, everything about Janet was so perfect it's like you had to admire every part of her. And as Janet drove into the driveway of Hayvenhurst, your jaw dropped. "The shock will wear off once you step inside, it's like any other house really." Janet threw out. Your mouth was still wide open as Janet parked, and hopped out of the car. "Are you coming?" "Oh-right sorry this is just so crazy." You said as you finally got out and followed Janet inside the house, and as you stepped inside you heard a whistle. As you turned your head to see where it came from you realized who it was, it was Jackie. And just behind him was Marlon and Tito, "Janet, who's your friend and are they single?" Jackie said confidently as Marlon and Tito snickered. "Oh please you guys are such dogs!" Janet yelled. "Ignore them, they do this to everyone I bring over it's embarrassing." Janet said as she brought you up to her bedroom.
You took a moment to adjust to her room, it was extremely beautiful and extremely large. Janet urged you to sit down on her bed as she went to find your failed test paper, and once she found it she set the paper down as she made her way beside you onto her bed. You both sat cross-legged and as Janet got comfortable she picked your paper up once again. "Okay... I see where you messed up here." Janet said as she pointed to a question. You groaned, as you'd prefer doing literally anything else but math right now. Janet looked over at you, her big doe eyes gleaming through her glasses. As much as you didn't want to work on this Janet made it hard for you to not do anything she wanted.
By now it was late at night, everyone was asleep-except you and Janet of course.
You two were cuddled up together underneath a cozy blanket giggling at a scandalous magazine Janet had managed to snatch from one of her brothers. "Oh gosh, look at her!" Janet said as she pointed to a woman who had no top on. "They're so perky!" You said as you and Janet both burst out into laughter. "Wow, I would've never thought I'd be sitting here laughing at a porn magazine with you." You said as you finally began to calm down. "Why's that?" Janet asked as she set down the magazine, still laughing slightly. "I dunno, just didn't think you liked this stuff-not like that of course but you know." "You'd be surprised by the amount of things I like, my whole personality isn't just that I'm good at math."
You looked at Janet, and unintentionally made eye contact with her. "Well, what else do you like?" You ask as you pull up the blanket you and Janet were sharing slightly, your hand brushing her thigh as you do. "I like reading too." Janet says as she smirks. "Oh fuck off! And I thought you were gonna say something good!" You say as you hit Janet and you both immediately burst into laughter. Janet accidentally snorted, which caused you two to pause your laughter for a second-then you both went back to crying laughing.
"Wow, and I just thought you were some kinda nerd, you're really funny Janet." Janet threw her hand to her chest and gasped as if she was offended by your comment. "Well, I had ideas about you too." Janet admitted smiling slightly. "Like whatt? Tell me Janett cmonn!" "Okay fine! To be honest, I kinda thought you might've liked me." Janet looked down-still smiling a bit. "What made you think that?" You ask. "No just forget about it was stupid of me to think that anyway." It goes silent for a moment as you both don't know what to say. "To be honest, I do like you, Janet." You confess as you look over at Janet. Janet looks up at you and your eyes meet once again. "I-I think I like you too, i've been so afraid because I didn't think you-" You leaned in to kiss Janet, pulling away quickly after.
To your shock-Janet immediately pulled you back in. The kiss is slow at first but so needy at the same time. You moan at how good Janet's mouth tastes and how soft her lips were. Janet mumbled something but you couldn't make out what it was until she pulled back. "Didn't you hear me?" Janet said as she pants. "I didn't m' sorry, what'd you say?" "I said to take your pants off." Janet demanded. You were shocked a bit-but you complied as you unbuttoned your pants, slid them off, and threw them to the floor. "Lay down." Janet demanded once again and of course you did as she said, shifting down slightly to lay your head on her fluffy pillows. Janet made her way under the blanket you two were sharing and reached your thighs. "Open." You opened your legs and now Janet's head was directly in front of your heat. She pressed a kiss to your clothed pussy, causing you to gasp. You lifted the blanket to look at Janet, "Are you sure you want to do this? We don't-"
"I want to do this so badly Y/N, just relax and let me take lead." Janet reassured as she began to suck on your clit through your panties. "O-Oh fuck." You moaned as Janet continued sucking. You very quickly wanted more though, you wanted her directly on your clit.
"Janet pl-please, take my panties off." You pleaded. Janet removed her mouth from your clit, as she then brought her thumb to it, rubbing it slightly through the wet fabric. "And why should I?" Janet asked teasingly. "Please, don't tease me I need you, Janet." "Hm... Well, do you promise not to fail your next math test and actually listen to what I say?" Janet asked as she paused her rubbing on your clit. "Are you serious?" Janet stared at you in response. "Fuck...Fine yes, I won't fail and I'll listen to every little word you say just touch me!" You begged, sounding needier than you expected. Janet went quiet for a moment. "Lift." Janet demanded as you lifted up slightly. Janet pulled your panties down slowly, teasing you. Once she finally pulled them all the way down she quickly set them aside and made her way back to your heat. Janet took one finger and dragged it from your core to your clit, collecting your wetness as she brought her finger to her mouth and sucked on it-letting go with a *pop*. Janet then brought her mouth to your core, kissed it, then took her tongue out and began to lap at your pussy. "Oh my god, fuck yes!" You screamed, not caring if you woke the entire house up at this point. Janet then eased her tongue inside of you, making you moan loudly. You had no idea how Janet knew how to eat you out so well, but you weren't complaining, in fact, you swore you felt a tear fall as Janet continued to move her tongue in and out of you. "Janet, m' so close fuck!" You cried out as Janet began to move her tongue deeper inside of you. You swore you could literally feel her in your stomach as you came violently all over her tongue. Your back arched and your legs shook, but Janet kept on going.
"J-Janet, too much, it's too m-much!" You mumbled out. Janet pulled back, but quickly brought two fingers to your heat, gathering up your wetness before slowly sliding in. You let out another loud moan. Janet then began to curl her fingers inside of you, hitting your g-spot perfectly. "Shit-Janet y' gotta stop I think I'm gonna pee." Janet looked up at you, your juices all over and around her lips. "You'll be fine, trust me." Janet simply said as she leaned back down, still holding eye contact with you, and began to suck on your clit. "JANET F-FUCK!" You screamed out as you squirted all over Janet's fingers. You felt Janet laugh against your clit, as she pulled her fingers out of you slowly and she lifted her head to look at you once more. "See? I told you you'd be fine."
You looked at Janet, she was completely ruined. Her glasses were falling off of her face, and her sweater was soaked as was her hand. You were a mess too, you had dried-up drool in the corners of your mouth, and dried-up tears in the corners of your eyes. You looked at Janet and began to giggle, and so did Janet. "I can't believe we just did that." You say as you continue to giggle. "Me either." Janet says as she makes her way up from under the blanket. "We should probably clean up..." "Yeah... what time is it?" You ask as you look for a clock. "I don't know, but come on get up and help me please." Janet says as she gets up from her spot on her bed extending out her hand to help lift you up. "This is the hand you came on by the way." "Oh, Janet!" You silently yell as you pull your hand back and Janet begins to laugh.
You definitely knew you'd be coming over more often for help with "studying".
𓊆❤︎︎𓊇 : after your car breaks down, the nice farmerboy nearby gives you a roof over your head for the night. However, you aren't aware of the cowboy hat rule.
𓊈❤︎︎𓊉 : farmer/cowboy michael. chubby/curvy reader. and michael likes that veeeeery muchhhh. reader gets lost. reader doesn't know about the cowboy hat rule. michael is a gentleman. he is also very smitten. embarrassed michael & embarrassed reader. cowgirl. reverse cowgirl. doggy. ass slapping. michael calls you 'sugar'. unprotected sex. creampie. michael is a sweetheart. p in v. pussy eating. lots of praise. pussy drunk. filthy dirty talk. michael loves your ass. lots of nicknames. 𓏽 ♫ 𝟏𝟓.𝟗𝓀
𓊆ྀི❤︎𓊇ྀི : oh my god this is so long... and i fear i got a little too carried away at the smut part.
𝓂asterlist || 𝒾ntro || 𝓃avigation || 𝑡aglist
You'd been driving for what felt like hours.
The sun had disappeared not too long ago, leaving the country roads illuminated by little more than your headlights and the occasional glow of the moon overhead. The journey had started pleasantly enough. There was something oddly calming about being alone with your thoughts, watching the scenery change from busy highways to endless fields and quiet back roads. You hadn't minded the drive at all. In fact, for most of it, you'd been singing along to the radio without a care in the world, drumming your fingers against the steering wheel whenever a favourite song came on and laughing to yourself whenever you forgot half the lyrics. There was nobody around to hear you, after all, and that somehow made it even more enjoyable.
Eventually, though, the music faded into bursts of static as you drove further into the countryside. You twisted the dial a few times in search of another station, but every attempt was met with the same crackling interference. With a small sigh, you admitted defeat and switched the radio off altogether.
"Well... that's just rude," you muttered to yourself with a small smile.
The silence settled around you almost immediately.
It wasn't unpleasant, but it did give your mind far too much room to wander. You found yourself thinking about how much longer you had left to drive, whether the little town marked on your map was actually as close as it claimed to be, and if it would still have somewhere open by the time you arrived. You were beginning to regret not stopping at the last gas station you'd passed nearly an hour ago—not because you needed fuel, but because at least there had been people there. Out here, there was nothing but open land stretching endlessly in either direction.
You glanced at the clock on the dashboard. It was later than you'd realized. 'If I'd known this road was gonna take forever...' you sighed, shaking your head. Almost as though the car had taken your complaint personally, it gave a small shudder beneath you. Your eyebrows drew together.
"...Huh."
You loosened your grip on the steering wheel for a second before tightening it again, listening carefully. The engine continued to hum as it always had, and after another few seconds you convinced yourself it had probably just been a bump in the road.
Then it happened again. This time there was no mistaking it.
A strange sputter echoed from somewhere beneath the bonnet, followed by a brief hesitation that caused the car to jerk ever so slightly before carrying on.
"Oh, no..."
You instinctively looked down at the dashboard, your eyes darting between the gauges as though one of them might explain what was happening. Everything seemed... normal enough. Nothing immediately jumped out at you.
"C'mon," you murmured a little desperately, giving the steering wheel an encouraging little pat. "Don't start acting up now..."
You pressed your foot a little more firmly against the accelerator. The car responded. For all of thirty seconds. Then the engine coughed again, louder this time.
Your stomach sank.
"No, no, no..."
Your gaze immediately searched the road ahead. Nothing. You checked your rear-view mirror. Still nothing.
Not a single pair of headlights. Not another car. Not even a farmhouse with a porch light glowing in the distance. The realization settled over you far quicker than you'd have liked.
If something happened to the car out here, you were completely on your own.
"...Okay," you whispered to yourself, taking a slow breath. "Think."
You reached across to the passenger seat and rummaged through your bag, eventually pulling out the folded road map you'd been relying on all afternoon. You unfolded it across the steering wheel, smoothing out the stubborn creases with your palm as your eyes searched for where you thought you might be. You thought.
There was one problem.
Every winding road on the page suddenly looked identical beneath the dim glow of the dashboard lights. With a quiet huff, you folded it back up again, and tossed it onto the passenger seat. Maybe you could flag somebody down.
The thought barely had time to settle before you looked through the windshield again. There wasn't anybody to flag down. Not a single passing car.
You chewed thoughtfully on the inside of your cheek before reaching for the door handle.
The night air greeted you immediately, warm but noticeably cooler than it had been during the day. It carried the scent of grass and fresh earth, accompanied by the constant chorus of crickets hidden somewhere amongst the fields. Closing the car door behind you, you wrapped your arms loosely around yourself and looked up and down the road once more, almost hoping that standing outside would somehow make another driver magically appear.
No such luck.
With a defeated sigh, you walked around to the front of the car and released the bonnet latch from inside. A moment later, you lifted it open, propping it up as you stared into the engine. You had absolutely no idea what you were looking at.
There were... engine things. Hoses. Metal. More hoses.
You blinked.
"...Yep."
You couldn't help but laugh quietly to yourself. It was either laugh or cry, and crying wasn't likely to get the engine running again.
Resting your hands on the edge of the bonnet, you let out a long breath and looked across the dark fields surrounding you. They seemed endless beneath the moonlight, interrupted only by the occasional line of fencing disappearing over the hills.
Beautiful.
Just not somewhere you'd particularly wanted to spend your evening. You wondered briefly how long it'd be before somebody happened to drive this way.
Ten minutes? An hour? Morning?
The last possibility made you straighten slightly.
Morning.
You looked back towards the car, then down the empty road stretching out in front of you. No. Surely not.
You weren't going to spend the entire night sitting on the side of some unfamiliar country road waiting for daylight. There had to be another option. There was always another option. At least, that was what you told yourself.
You lowered the bonnet again and walked back around to the driver's side, opening the door and reaching inside for your bag. Your first thought was your phone, even though you already knew what you were going to find. You picked it up anyway, pressing the button and waiting for the screen to light up.
No signal.
You stared at it for a moment longer than necessary, as though the little bars in the corner might suddenly appear out of pity. They didn't.
You let out a quiet sigh of defeat and lowered the phone into your lap.
It was strange how quickly a situation could change. Less than an hour ago, you had been enjoying the drive, singing along to the radio and thinking about how peaceful the countryside was. Now you were sitting in a car that refused to start, in the middle of nowhere, trying to figure out what your next move was.
You weren't someone who scared easily. Usually, when something went wrong, you were the person who tried to stay calm and find a solution. Panicking never helped anything, and you knew that. But there was something unsettling about not knowing what came next.
You didn't know how far away the nearest person was. You didn't know if anyone would even pass by. You didn't know if your car was dealing with a small problem that could be fixed in the morning or something much worse. The uncertainty was what bothered you the most.
You rested your head back against the seat, closing your eyes for a moment.
"Okay," you whispered again, mostly to yourself. "Don't panic."
Taking a deep breath, you opened your eyes and looked around the car. There was a small blanket folded in the backseat, a half-empty bottle of water, and a few snacks you'd bought earlier without thinking much about them. Not exactly enough supplies to spend a night stranded, but enough to make you feel slightly less helpless.
You reached for the blanket, placing it beside you, before looking back out through the windshield. You glanced at the road once more, wondering if you should try walking.
Maybe there was a house nearby that you hadn't noticed. Maybe someone would answer the door and let you use their phone.
But the thought of leaving your car behind made you hesitate.
What if someone came by and moved it? What if you walked in the wrong direction? What if the nearest house was much further away than it looked?
You hated admitting it, but you didn't actually know what to do.
For a few minutes, you simply stood there beside the open car door, listening to the sounds around you. The quiet hum of the night. The wind moving through the grass. The distant sound of something you couldn't identify somewhere far out in the fields.
Then, just as you were beginning to accept that you might have to wait it out...
You heard something. At first, you thought it was your imagination. A faint sound in the distance. You held still, listening carefully.
There it was again.
An engine.
Your eyes immediately lifted towards the road.
For a second, you weren't sure if you should feel relieved or cautious.
A pair of headlights appeared in the distance, slowly making their way towards you. The sight of them made your shoulders relax before you even realised how tense you had been.
Someone was coming.
You stepped away from the car slightly, watching as the vehicle approached. The headlights grew brighter, illuminating the empty road in front of it as the sound of the engine became louder.
It was an old pickup truck.
And although you were grateful that someone had finally come along, you couldn't ignore the small voice in the back of your mind reminding you that whoever was driving was still a stranger.
So you stayed where you were, waiting.
The truck slowed as it reached you, eventually pulling over a short distance ahead of your car.
The engine remained running for a moment.
Then the driver's door opened slowly, and for a moment all you could see was the silhouette of the person stepping out against the glow of the headlights behind him.
He wasn't what you had expected.
You weren't entirely sure what you had expected, truthfully. Maybe some tired-looking mechanic who had happened to come across you on his way home, or perhaps someone who would immediately ask what was wrong with the car before anything else.
A cowboy hat rested on his head, casting a shadow over his features, and he wore a simple button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up slightly, paired with worn jeans and boots that looked like they had seen plenty of long days outside. There was nothing particularly intimidating about him. If anything, the way he approached you was careful and considerate.
A flashlight hung loosely in one hand, though he kept it pointed towards the ground rather than directly at you. He stopped a few feet away from you, leaving enough distance between you that you didn't feel cornered.
"Evenin'," he greeted. His voice was softer than you expected.
You gave him a small nod.
"Hello."
His eyes briefly moved towards your car, taking in the open bonnet before looking back at you.
"Everythin' alright?"
There was genuine curiosity in the question. You let out a small breath, almost embarrassed by the situation. "Uh, no, not really—my car. It decided to just stop working..."
He glanced back at it again.
"Out here?"
You nodded.
"Apparently."
A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
"Well..." he murmured, adjusting the brim of his hat. "'s probably about the worst place she could've picked." Despite yourself, you smiled slightly.
"Yeah. I was thinking the same thing."
The man seemed to relax a little when he saw you smile. He looked back towards the truck, then towards the road behind you.
"Been waitin' long?"
"Nah, not too long," you answered. He gave you a look that suggested he didn't quite believe you. A quiet chuckle left him.
"Right."
He took a step closer to the car, but stopped before reaching you.
"Name's Michael, by the way."
He removed his hat as he spoke, holding it against his side. It was such a simple gesture, but it immediately stood out to you. Like he had been raised to treat every introduction with a certain amount of respect. "'m sorry. I should've said that first."
You shook your head, "'s okay."
He smiled softly.
"Well, I'm Michael."
He paused, waiting for you to introduce yourself. When you did, he repeated your name quietly, committing it to memory.
"'s a pretty name for a pretty girl."
The words came out naturally. Almost as if he hadn't realized he'd said it aloud until after he had. You just blinked at him, taken aback by the bluntness. A faint blush appeared on his face, and he cleared his throat before looking back towards the car.
"Mind 'f I take a look at it, suga'?"
The nickname caught you slightly off guard as well. But this time not because it felt inappropriate. Quite the opposite. The way he said it was so gentle, so naturally warm, that it felt less like flirting and more like a habit. Something he'd probably been saying his whole life.
You nodded. "uh, yeah sure. Go ahead."
"Alright."
He moved towards the front of the car, rolling his sleeves up a little further as he looked beneath the bonnet. You watched him for a moment.
There was a sense of relief that came with seeing someone who actually seemed to know what they were doing. You had tried your best, but staring at an engine and hoping it would explain itself had only gotten you so far. At least now there was someone who could take a proper look.
Michael leaned over the front of the car, his flashlight moving carefully over the different parts beneath the bonnet. Every now and then he hummed quietly to himself, not in frustration, but more like he was thinking through what he was seeing. You rested against the side of the car, watching him.
"Do you know much about cars?" you asked after a moment. He glanced up briefly.
"A little," he admitted. "Spent 'nough time fixin' up old trucks 'nd farm equipment that y' kinda pick things up whether y' want to or not."
There was a small smile on his face as he looked back down. "Can't say I ever planned on spendin' my evenings under a bonnet, though."
You smiled slightly too. "Sounds like you've had a lot of practice."
"More than I'd like," he chuckled softly. "Somethin' always needs fixin' when y' live out here." He moved something beneath the bonnet, checking a few different parts before stepping back slightly.
"How long has she been actin' up?"
You thought back. "Honestly? Not long. My car was fine most of the drive. The radio started cutting out first, and then itstarted making that weird sound." Michael nodded slowly.
"Mm."
That little sound made you look at him. "Is that a good 'mm' or a bad 'mm'?"
A quiet laugh escaped him.
"I'd say it's somewhere 'n the middle."
"That's not exactly reassuring."
"Nah, I know," he said, smiling. "Sorry, suga'."
There it was again. The nickname. You still hadn't quite gotten used to it. And if you were honest, it does make you blush a little.
Michael leaned back down, examining something near the engine.
"She ain't overheatin', is she?"
"No. The temperature looked normal."
"Strange smells?"
"No."
"Any noises before this?"
You thought for a second. "Just the sputtering."
He nodded again.
"Alright."
There was a brief silence as he continued checking over the car. You noticed that he wasn't rushing. He wasn't randomly pulling things apart or pretending to know exactly what was wrong. He was actually taking his time, trying to figure it out.
"Y' from 'round here?" he asked after a moment.
You shook your head.
"No. Just passing through."
"Thought so." You raised an eyebrow.
"What gave it away?"
He looked up, a small smile appearing.
"Well, folks 'round here know better than to take this road after dark unless they gotta."
You laughed quietly. "Good to know."
"Didn't mean it like that," he quickly added, almost as if he worried he had offended you. "Just... this road's pretty empty. Easy to get stranded."
"I figured that out."
That earned a small laugh from him.
"Yeah, I reckon you did."
He returned his attention to the engine, and for a while the only sounds were the night around you and the quiet movements of him working. It was odd.
A few minutes ago, you had been completely alone, wondering how long you would have to wait before anyone came by. Now you were standing beside a stranger's truck on the side of the road, and somehow the situation felt much less overwhelming.
After another few minutes of looking over everything, Michael finally straightened up, wiping his hands together as he stepped back from the engine.
You watched his expression carefully, trying to figure out whether he had good news or bad news before he even spoke. Unfortunately, his face didn't give much away.
"Well..." he started.
You waited hopefully. He looked back at the car, then at you.
"Don't think she's gonna be drivin' anywhere tonight."
You let out a quiet breath, though you weren't entirely surprised. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you'd already accepted that possibility.
"That bad?"
"No, I wouldn't say bad," he assured you quickly. "Just... ain't somethin' I can fix out here with what I got."
He reached down, closing the bonnet carefully.
"Looks like it's probably somethin' with the engine. Could be a few things, but I don't wanna start guessin' 'nd make it worse."
You nodded, appreciating that he didn't pretend to know more than he did. "So what does that mean?"
Michael glanced down the road, then back at you.
"Means y' probably need a mechanic."
You gave him a small, humorless laugh, "that would be easier 'f I only knew where one was."
"Closest one?"
You nodded.
"Yeah."
He was quiet for a moment.
"About thirty-five, forty miles."
Your eyebrows lifted. "You're kidding..."
"Wish I was."
You looked back at your car, then at the empty road ahead. That was definitely not the answer you were hoping for. Michael noticed the expression on your face and immediately softened.
"Hey."
You looked back at him.
"Don't worry. We'll figure somethin' out."
The way he said it was simple. Not like a promise that he could fix everything, but like a reminder that you weren't stuck dealing with it by yourself anymore. You nodded slowly.
"Thank you for stopping, by the way." He looked almost surprised by the gratitude.
"'Course."
"No, I mean it. You didn't have to..."
Michael shook his head slightly, putting his hat back on.
"Yeah, I did."
The answer came so naturally that you almost didn't know how to respond. He seemed to realize how certain he sounded and gave a small shrug.
"I mean... anybody would've stopped."
You both knew that probably wasn't entirely true. But you didn't point it out. Instead, you smiled a little.
"So what now?"
Michael looked back towards his truck.
"Well..."
He hesitated. And for the first time since he'd arrived, you noticed a little uncertainty in him.
"I got a place not too far from here," he explained. "Jus' a few minutes down the road."
You listened quietly.
"My mama raised me better than to leave somebody stranded out here overnight." A small smile appeared on his face.
"Especially not a lady."
The words made you smile slightly.
"Your mom sounds like a good woman."
"She is."
There was a warmth in his voice when he said it that made it clear there was no hesitation behind the statement.Michael looked back towards the road.
"You got somewhere y' supposed t' be tonight?"
You shook your head.
"Not really. I was just trying to get to the next town."
He nodded.
"Alright."
Another pause. Then he looked at you.
"Now, I know we're strangers, and I don't wanna make you uncomfortable, but..." He adjusted the brim of his hat, almost nervously.
"My place is right nearby. Got a spare room. You could use the phone, get yourself somethin' warm to eat, 'nd figure out what you wanna do in the mornin'."
He quickly continued before you could answer.
"Only if you're comfortable with that, of course. Don't want you thinkin' I'm just some fella offerin' up his house to a woman he just met."
A small laugh escaped you. "I wasn't thinking that."
"Good," he said, smiling faintly. "Just wanted t' make sure."
You looked down the empty road again.
Normally, you wouldn't consider accepting an invitation from a stranger. You knew better than that. But there was something about the way Michael carried himself, the way he had gone out of his way to make sure you felt comfortable, that made the idea seem less frightening. And besides...
You weren't exactly overflowing with better options. You looked back at him.
"How far is it?"
Michael smiled slightly.
"Not far. Five minutes."
You considered it for another moment before nodding.
"Okay."
His expression softened with relief.
"Alright."
He stepped back towards his truck.
"Go ahead 'nd grab whatever you need from your car. I'll give you a hand."
You opened the driver's door, reaching inside for your bag and the few things you'd need for the night. As you did, you couldn't help but glance back at him. Michael was standing beside his pickup, waiting patiently.
The drive to Michael's place was quiet at first. Not uncomfortable, just quiet.
You sat in the passenger seat of his truck, your bag resting beside your feet as you looked out the window at the fields passing by. It was strangely peaceful.
Michael kept both hands on the steering wheel, his attention mostly focused on the road ahead. Every now and then, though, he would glance over briefly, just to make sure you were alright. He tried not to make it obvious. He really did.
But now that you were sitting closer to him, it was a little harder to ignore.
When he had first stepped out of his truck, the darkness and distance had made it difficult to see much about him. Now, under the soft glow of the dashboard lights, he could see you properly. And he thought you were beautiful. Such a pretty girl.
Not just in the way people usually meant when they said something like that. It wasn't only your appearance, though he couldn't deny that you were very pretty. There was something about the way you carried yourself. The way you had tried to stay calm despite being stranded. The way you had thanked him more than once, even though he hadn't done anything extraordinary in his mind. You seemed kind.
And Michael liked kind.
He quickly looked back at the road when he realized he had been staring for a second too long.
"Everything alright?" you asked. His eyes flickered back towards you.
"Yeah," he said quickly. "Yeah, 'm alright."
You smiled slightly, though you weren't entirely convinced.
"You sure?"
He gave a small nod.
"Just thinkin'."
You looked back out the window.
"About my car?"
"That too."
There was a brief pause. Then, with a small smile, he added, "Mostly thinkin' about what I'm gonna do with it tomorrow."
You laughed softly, "I appreciate you taking this seriously."
"'Course."
The answer came easily. You looked at him for a moment. The same thing happened to you then. Up until now, you had mostly been focused on the fact that he was helping you. You had noticed his kindness, his manners, the way he spoke so gently. But sitting beside him like this, you had the chance to actually look at him. And you had to admit...
Michael was very handsome.
Not in an obvious, overly confident way. There was something softer about him. His features were gentle, his eyes kind, and there was an almost boyish quality to his smile that made him seem younger than you initially expected. You found yourself looking away when he glanced in your direction, suddenly aware that you had been staring.
"You always help strangers on the side of the road?" you asked, mostly to distract yourself. Michael just smiled.
"Not always."
You raised an eyebrow.
"No?"
"Nah."
You looked at him.
"Then why me?"
He thought about it for a moment before answering.
"'cause y' looked like y' needed help."
It was such a simple answer. You smiled softly.
"That's a pretty good reason."
Michael shrugged lightly.
"Seems like the right thing to do."
The truck continued down the road, the silence returning for a moment. Michael glanced over again when he thought you weren't looking. And this time, you noticed. You didn't say anything. You just smiled quietly to yourself and turned your attention back towards the window.
Usually, sitting in a stranger's car would have felt strange. You probably would've found yourself searching for something to say, filling every quiet moment just to avoid the unfamiliarity of it all. But with Michael, the silence seemed easy. Every now and then, he would ask you something small. Where you were headed. How far you'd been driving. Nothing too personal. And every time you answered, he listened.
"So," he said after a moment, one hand resting comfortably on the steering wheel, "what made you take this road anyway?"
You looked over at him.
"What do you mean?"
"Well, like I said before, most folks 'round here know better than t' take this way at night unless they live nearby."
You smiled slightly.
"That your way of saying I made a bad decision?"
He let out a quiet laugh.
"No, no. Ain't sayin' that." His eyes briefly flickered towards you before returning to the road.
"Just curious."
You looked back out the window. "I was trying to get somewhere faster."
Michael nodded.
"That usually ends up bein' how it goes."
"What does?"
"People tryin' to save time and endin' up takin' the longer way."
You laughed softly, "are you speaking from experience?"
He smiled.
"Maybe."
"You've done that before?"
"Maybe."
You smiled at that.
"Do you live alone?" you asked. The question came out naturally, though you immediately wondered if it was too personal. Michael didn't seem to mind it though.
"Nah," he answered. "My family lives close by."
"Oh."
He nodded.
"I've got my own place, but we're all still pretty close." There was a warmth in his voice when he spoke about them. You smiled.
"That sounds nice."
"It is."
The warmth inside the truck slowly became more noticeable as the drive continued.
At first, you hadn't minded it. After standing outside in the cool night air for so long, the heat had actually been comforting. But sitting beneath the soft glow of the dashboard lights with the windows rolled up, you started to feel a little too warm. You shifted in your seat, pulling lightly at the sleeves of your thin jacket.
Michael noticed the movement out of the corner of his eye.
"You alright?"
You looked over.
"Yeah, I'm fine. Just getting a little warm." He nodded, immediately turning his attention back to the road.
"Can turn the air up if ya need."
You smiled slightly.
"I think I'll survive."
"Alright. Just makin' sure suga''."
You shook your head amused. After another moment, you slipped the jacket off your shoulders, relieved to finally get rid of the extra layer of warmth. You folded it loosely and tossed it onto the passenger seat beside your bag, revealing the simple black tank top you had been wearing underneath.
The fabric is soft and clings to your curves, hugging your chest and stomach in a way that feels liberating despite the unfamiliar company.
The sudden movement draws Michael's attention. As you settle back into the seat, adjusting your position to find some relief from the heat, the low neckline of the tank top dips lower. Your breasts, full and soft, press against the dark fabric, creating a deep, inviting cleavage that catches the dim glow of the dashboard lights.
Michael's grip tightens fractionally on the steering wheel. His eyes betray him for a split second, flickering downward toward the swell of your chest before he forces them back to the road ahead. He swallows hard, his Adam's apple bobbing in the shadows. "Yeah..." he manages to rasp out, his voice sounding slightly rougher than it did moments before. "Could be gettin' warmer."
You notice the slight shift in his demeanor, the way his breathing seems to catch for a heartbeat, but you attribute it to the heat as well. "Mhm, it sure is."
You stretch your arms above your head, feeling the fabric of the tank top pull across your torso, emphasizing the soft swell of your hips and the generous curve of your waist.
Michael keeps his gaze fixed forward, but his jaw is set tight. He's hyper aware of your presence beside him now. He was fighting every inch of himself to not look over again. He did not want to come across as a creep and scare you off.
He just wasn't used to this.
Not the feeling itself, exactly. Michael had always appreciated beauty. He noticed it in people, in nature, in music. But there was something different about having someone sitting right beside him, someone whose presence he was becoming increasingly aware of.
And he didn't want to make you uncomfortable.
"So..." you said after a moment, breaking the quiet. Michael glanced over.
"Hm?"
"You said you live on a farm?"
He smiled.
"Yeah."
"Do you actually do all the farm stuff yourself?"
He chuckled, "Some of it. Ain't exactly easy work, but I like it."
"You don't get tired of it?"
He thought about it.
"Sometimes."
You laughed. "At least you're honest."
"Well, 'm not gonna lie 'nd say I wake up every mornin' excited to fix fences."
That made you laugh.
"But most days?"
"Most days, yeah."
You looked out at the passing fields again.
"I think I'd like that."
"Farm life?"
"Maybe. It seems peaceful."
Michaels face softened.
"It can be."
He paused.
"But it can also be a lot of work."
"I believe that."
Another quiet moment passed. Then Michael spoke again, his voice a little softer.
"You'll get to see it soon."
You looked back at him.
"The farm?"
He nodded.
"Yeah."
A small smile appeared on his face.
few minutes later, the glow of the headlights caught the outline of a house in the distance. You looked out the window as Michael turned the truck onto a gravel driveway, the tires crunching softly beneath you. The house wasn't anything extravagant, and honestly, you hadn't expected it to be. It was a simple farmhouse with a porch light glowing warmly near the front door, surrounded by open land that stretched out into the darkness. It looked comfortable. Lived in. Like a place where someone had spent years building a quiet life.
"This is it," Michael said, slowing the truck as he pulled closer to the house. You looked around, taking it in for a moment.
"It's nice."
Michael glanced over briefly, a boyish smile appearing on his face.
"Yeah. 's my home."
He parked the truck and turned off the engine, leaving the two of you sitting in the sudden quiet for a moment. Without the sound of the road beneath you, the night seemed even calmer. You could hear the faint sounds of the countryside around you—the wind moving through the fields, the occasional noise of an animal somewhere in the distance.
Michael reached for his keys before stepping out of the truck. You followed a moment later, grabbing your bag from the seat, though before you could properly lift it, Michael was already reaching for it.
"I got it." You looked at him.
"You really don't have to carry my things."
He looked almost confused by the statement.
"I know."
The simple answer made you smile a little. He wasn't doing it because he thought you couldn't handle it. He wasn't trying to make a point. It was just something he did without thinking. As you walked towards the house, Michael glanced over at you.
"Hope y' don't mind stayin' here tonight."
You shook your head. "Are you kidding? I'm just happy I don't have to figure out how to sleep in my car."
That earned a quiet laugh from him.
"Yeah, figured that probably wasn't the best option."
"No," you agreed. "Definitely not ideal."
Michael smiled slightly as he unlocked the front door.
"I got a spare room y' can use," he explained as he opened it. "'s nothin' fancy, but it's clean. There's fresh towels in there, 'nd y' can use whatever y' need. Bathroom's just down the hall."
You stepped inside, looking around as he switched on the lights.
The house felt exactly like you imagined it would. Not in a stereotypical way, but in a comfortable one. There were little signs of everyday life everywhere. A few things placed where they were actually used, furniture that looked like it had been there for years.
"Michael, this is already more than enough," you said. He looked back at you.
"Don't worry about it."
The way he said it was gentle, like he didn't want you feeling like an inconvenience. You followed him down the hallway as he showed you the room.
"I know this is probably a little strange," he admitted. "Comin' all the way out here 'nd endin' up at a stranger's place."
You tilted your head slightly.
"A little."
He nodded, almost expecting that answer.
"But I promise I ain't gonna make you regret it."
The words came out before he seemed to realize how serious they sounded. His cheeks warmed slightly, and he quickly looked away, adjusting the brim of his hat.
"I mean..." he added, a little awkwardly, "you know what I mean."
You couldn't help but giggle. "I do."
He seemed relieved. When he reached the spare room, he opened the door and stepped aside so you could see inside. It was simple, but comfortable. A neatly made bed, a small dresser, and enough space for your things. Nothing luxurious, but after spending the last hour wondering if you'd be sleeping in your car, it felt more than enough.
"Y' can put your bag there," Michael said, pointing towards the dresser. "'nd if you need anything, just call out."
You nodded.
"Thank you, Michael. Really."
He flashed you a smile.
"You're welcome."
There was a brief pause before he added, softer, "Make yourself at home, suga'."
After making sure you had everything you needed, Michael lingered for only a moment longer.
"Alright," he said softly. "I'll let you get some rest."
You nodded, suddenly realizing just how tired you actually were. The adrenaline from your car breaking down had kept you awake, but now that you were somewhere safe, the exhaustion was finally catching up with you. "Thank you again, Michael."
He smiled, shaking his head slightly. "You've thanked me enough times already."
"Still."
"Well... you're welcome." He stepped back towards the doorway, pulling his hat down slightly as he prepared to leave.
"'f y' need anythin', 'm right down the hall." You nodded. "I will."
"Alright, suga'. Goodnight."
"Goodnight, Michael." He gave you one last small smile before quietly closing the door behind him. The moment you were alone, you let out a long breath and looked around the room.
A few hours ago, you had been driving alone, singing along to the radio and thinking about nothing more than getting to your destination. Then your car broke down, a stranger found you, and now you were standing in a spare bedroom on a farm you hadn't even known existed.
You weren't sure how you felt about it all yet. But you were tired. Very tired. You pulled your phone from your bag and checked it again, though you already knew there still wasn't any signal. At least you had downloaded a few songs before the trip, so you wouldn't have to spend the night in complete silence.
You grabbed your earbuds, putting on a familiar playlist. The soft music filled the quiet room, giving you something familiar in a place that was still completely new.
The music through your earbuds helps block out the silence of the house as you move around the small room. You feel a little sticky from the drive and the humidity, so you decide to get out of your clothes before getting into bed.
You reached for the hem of your black tank top, pulling it over your head and setting it aside. You kick your by now uncomfortable pants off, leaving them in a heap on the floor.
You figured you were just going to sleep in your undergarments today, as the jeans and the tank top where a little too uncomfortable right now. For a moment you just stood there in the room, only wearing your matching black lace bra and panties, feeling the cool air from the room finally hit your skin.
Down the hall, Michael walked past the spare room with your thin jacket folded neatly over one arm.
He had noticed it sitting on the passenger seat of his truck when he went back outside to grab the rest of your things. At first, he had thought about simply leaving it on the chair in the hallway or outside your door, but then he figured it might get forgotten there. Besides, it was your jacket, and he knew the nights out here could get colder than people expected.
So, after a moment of hesitation, he decided he would just give it back to you.
He stopped outside the door, adjusting his grip on the jacket before raising his hand and knocking softly against the wood.
"Hey, suga'?"
No answer.
Michael waited a few seconds, glancing down the hallway. Maybe you hadn't heard him. He knocked again, a little louder this time.
"Sorry, 's just your jacket. Y' left it in the truck."
Still nothing.
He frowned slightly out of uncertainty. He didn't want to interrupt you if you were already asleep, but he also didn't want to leave without making sure you had it.
The faint sound of music coming from inside explained it. You must have your earbuds in. Michael hesitated for another moment before carefully opening the door just a little.
"Hey, I just wanted to—"
The words died in his throat immediatly.
You were standing in the middle of the room, facing away from him, and you weren't wearing your clothes. Well, you were barely wearing any clothes.
His brain took a full second to catch up. The black tank top was gone. The jeans were gone. In their place was a thin strip of black lace across your hips and a matching bra that pushed your tits up so high and so full he thought his heart might stop. The lamp on the bedside table threw warm light across your skin, catching the curve of your waist, the soft swell of your ass barely covered by the lace, the long line of your back.
Michael's hand went white-knuckled around the jacket.
He should move. He should turn around, close the door, walk away, pretend he never saw a thing. Every voice in his head was screaming at him to do exactly that. His feet wouldn't listen. His feet were bolted to the floor, and his eyes were locked on you, and his breath had gone somewhere he couldn't find it.
Then it hit him. Not the shame, not the guilt — that came later. First came the heat, low and sudden and brutal, surging up from his gut and slamming straight into his cock. It went hard so fast it almost hurt, a thick, heavy ache pressing against the inside of his jeans, and he felt himself twitch against the denim like his body had a mind of its own.
God. God, he shouldn't be looking. He shouldn't be standing here at all.
You shifted, reaching for something on the dresser, and the movement made your ass sway under the lace. Michael's mouth went dry. His cock throbbed, straining so hard against his jeans that he could feel every heartbeat in it, and the shame hit him then — hot and ugly and tangled up with the want until he couldn't tell them apart.
He couldn't do this. He couldn't stand here watching you like some animal.
Michael pulled the door shut as quietly as he could manage, the latch clicking soft behind him, and he was moving before he even knew he'd decided to. Down the hall, past the bathroom, into his own room. He closed the door and leaned his back against it, chest heaving, and his hand went to the front of his jeans before he could think better of it.
He was already so hard it hurt. The denim was tight and unforgiving around him, and when he pressed his palm flat against himself he let out a shaky breath through his teeth. He fumbled with the button, the zipper, shoved his jeans and his boxers down his hips, and his cock sprang free — heavy, thick, aching, flushed dark and leaking at the tip.
He wrapped his hand around it and his eyes fell shut.
He shouldn't be doing this. You were a guest in his house, a stranger he'd brought in off the road, a woman who'd trusted him enough to sleep under his roof. And here he was, jerking off to the memory of you in that black lace. Shame burned low in his belly, but it did nothing to cool the heat. If anything, it made it worse.
He worked his hand slow, up and down, and his mind went where it wanted to go.
He pictured you on your back in his bed, that black lace pushed up around your waist, your tits spilling out of the bra as he settled between your thighs. Pictured your legs wrapped around him, your heels digging into his back, the way you'd sound as you gasped his name when he pushed into you. He imagined the weight of you, the soft give of your hips under his hands, the way you'd feel clenching around him —
Michael's jaw clenched. A low sound rumbled up out of his chest and he stroked himself faster, thumb dragging over the head, smearing the slick that kept beading there.
Then he pictured you on top of him. Cowgirl. You straddling his hips, that black lace gone, your tits bouncing as you rode him, your head tipped back, your mouth open, taking him deep and slow and then fast, riding him until he couldn't think straight. He could almost feel your weight on his thighs, the heat of you, the way your cunt would grip him —
He was ashamed of himself. He was. But his hand kept moving, and his cock kept throbbing, and the image of you wouldn't leave him alone.
He pictured you bent over the edge of the bed, your ass in the air, that lace pulled to the side. Pictured himself behind you, hands on your hips, pushing into you from behind, watching the way you'd take him. He'd grab a fistful of your hair, gentle but firm, and pull your head back, and you'd moan his name —
Michael's breathing went ragged. He leaned his head back against the door and stroked himself harder, faster, chasing it, and the shame and the want tangled up until he couldn't separate them anymore. All he knew was the heat building low in his gut, the image of you burned behind his eyes, the sound of his own rough breathing filling the dark room.
He was so close. He could feel it building, coiling hot and tight, and he stroked himself with a desperate rhythm, his mind full of you — every position, every angle, every way he wanted to take you. The shame was still there, gnawing at the edges, but it only made the heat burn brighter.
His whole body tensed. He came with a shuddering gasp, his hips jerking into his fist, spilling hot and thick over his knuckles and his stomach, and for a long moment he just stood there, breathing hard, his forehead pressed to the door.
Michael looked down at his hand, at the mess he'd made, at the shame curling in his chest. He should feel worse. He knew he should. But all he could feel was the ghost of you — the curve of your waist, the swell of your pretty ass, the way the lamplight had caught your skin — and the knowledge that he was going to have a hell of a time looking you in the eye coming morning.
He cleaned himself up with a cloth from the bathroom and washed his hands. He didn't sleep much that night.
Morning came slow and pale through the curtains, the light thin and gray, and for a long moment you weren't sure where you were.
Then the smell of old wood and hay and something warm drifted in, and it all came back—
The broken-down car, the empty road, the cowboy who'd pulled over like he'd been sent for you.
You lay there a minute, letting the room come into focus. The bed was softer than you'd expected, the blanket heavy and warm. Outside, a rooster crowed somewhere distant, and you could hear the low sound of a truck engine idling, then cutting off. The farm was also waking up.
You stretched, the sheet slipping down your shoulders. The night air had cooled everything, and you reached for your clothes on the floor — your black tank top and the jeans and pulled them back on.
The hallway smelled like coffee. That was the first thing. Warm and dark and bitter, drifting up from somewhere downstairs, and your stomach turned over at the thought of it. You followed the smell down the stairs, past a coat rack and a stack of old boots, and the house opened into a kitchen at the back.
And there he was.
Michael stood at the counter with his back to you, one hand wrapped around a mug, the other holding a phone to his ear. He'd changed — fresh jeans, a clean flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, the same worn boots. But the hat was still there, sitting easy on his head like it was part of him, and the sight of it made you smile.
"Nah, I told you," he was saying into the phone. "She just died on me. Right there 'n the side of the road, 'bout half a mile past the old Whitfield place. Engine sputtered out 'nd wouldn't start again."
A pause. He took a sip of coffee.
"I don't know what's wrong with it, 's the thing. 'm no mechanic, but I looked her over best I could. Somethin' with the engine, I reckon. Y' think y' could take a look at her?"
Another pause, longer this time. He nodded to himself.
"Mm-hm. Yeah. I got her here at the house. She's stayin' with me 'til we figure it out."
He glanced toward the window, and the morning light caught his profile — the line of his jaw, the way his brow furrowed a little as he listened. He was handsome in a way that snuck up on you, easy and unassuming, and you caught yourself staring.
"Alright," he said into the phone. "I'll bring her by tomorrow if that works. Appreciate it, Marlon. Yeah. You too."
He pulled the phone away from his ear, tapped the screen, and set it down on the counter with a small sigh. And then he turned, reaching for his coffee and stopped. His eyes landed on you standing in the doorway, and something flickered across his face. Surprise, maybe. Or something warmer. He blinked, and a smile pulled at the corner of his mouth, slow and easy.
"Mornin', suga'."
"Good morning," you said, and his smile widened a little.
"Sleep alright?"
"Better than I expected, honestly. That bed's real comfortable."
"Glad to hear it," he said, and he meant it. He gestured with his mug toward a chair at the kitchen table. "Coffee's fresh. Made it 'bout twenty minutes ago. There's eggs 'nd bacon if y' want somethin' to eat."
"You didn't have to do all that."
"No trouble," he said, already moving to the stove. "Was gonna make breakfast anyway. Just makin' a little more."
You sat down at the table, and he worked at the stove with his back to you, cracking eggs into a pan, the bacon already sizzling. The kitchen was warm and smelled like home, and for a minute you just watched him move — easy, unhurried, like he'd been doing this his whole life.
"Soooo, that was your brother on the phone?" you asked.
"Yeah," he said over his shoulder. "Marlon. He's the one in the family who actually knows his way 'round an engine. Runs a little repair shop over in the next town."
"Think he can fix my car?"
"If anybody can, it's him," Michael said. "Said he'll take a look at her tomorrow. I'll drive y' over there myself, if y' want."
"You'd do that?"
He turned, and there was something soft in his expression.
"Course I would."
He said it like it was the simplest thing in the world, and your chest did something quiet at the sound of it. He turned back to the stove, and the sizzle of the bacon filled the silence.
"You're really kind, Michael."
He ducked his head a little, and you could've sworn his ears went pink.
"Just doin' what's right."
He slid the eggs onto a plate, added the bacon, and brought it over to set in front of you. He was close enough that you caught his scent again. Dust, hay and soap, fresh from a morning shower, and something underneath that was just him.
"Eat up," he said, settling into the chair across from you with his own coffee. "Gonna be a long day."
You picked up your fork, and he watched you take the first bite. Then he reached for his mug, and his eyes drifted, just for a second, just a glance. Down over your shoulders, along the line of your neck, where the tank top sat loose against your collarbones.
And then he remembered.
It hit him all at once, the way it did every time he closed his eyes last night. You in that black lace, the lamp catching the curve of your waist— The heat came back low and sudden, and his hand tightened on the mug.
He looked away fast, down at his coffee, and his jaw worked. His ears went red, creeping up his neck, and he cleared his throat.
"Good eggs," he managed, not quite meeting your eyes.
You tilted your head.
"You alright, Michael?"
"Yeah," he said, a little too quick. "Yeah, 'm fine. Just — hot coffee. Burns the mouth."
You smiled, not quite convinced, but you let it go.
"Alright."
He took a long sip, staring down at the table, doing everything he could not to think about the way you'd looked yesterday.
You set your fork down, chewing the last bite of bacon, and looked across the table at him. He was still staring at his coffee like it held the secrets of the universe, his ears a little pink at the tips.
"So your brother's gonna take a look tomorrow?" you asked.
Michael blinked, coming back to himself. "Yeah. He's real good with engines. If it's fixable, he'll find it."
"That's good." You paused, turning the thought over. "So I guess I should probably start looking into a hotel or something. I don't want to be a bother."
His head came up fast at that, his brow furrowing. "A hotel?"
"Well, yeah. I can't just stay here for free. You've already done more than enough."
"Suga'." He set his mug down, and there was something almost offended in his voice. "Y' not a bother. Not even close. You're welcome t' stay here as long as it takes. I got the room, I got the food, and I got nobody else fillin' either one. 's no trouble at all."
You looked at him, at the earnest set of his jaw, the way he'd gone from flustered to firm in the space of a breath. "You're sure?"
"Positive." He said it like it was the easiest answer he'd ever given. "You stay right here 'til your car's fixed. I won't hear any argument about it."
A warmth spread through your chest, quiet and unexpected. "Alright. Thank you, Michael."
He nodded, a small smile tugging at his mouth, and reached for his coffee again. The silence settled easy between you, comfortable, and you found yourself looking around the kitchen — the worn wooden table, the row of hooks by the door, the window over the sink looking out onto green fields.
"So," you said, "you got a farm. What kind of animals do you have?"
Michael's face lit up. It was subtle — just a crinkle at the corners of his eyes, a loosening of his shoulders — but it was there. He leaned back in his chair, cradling his mug.
"Well, let's see. I got a couple'a horses — a mare named Daisy 'nd a gelding called Buck. Buck's got a mean streak, but he's all talk. Daisy's the sweet one. She'll follow you 'round the paddock like a dog."
You smiled. "That's cute."
"They're good company," he said, and there was a fondness in his voice that made you believe it. "Then there's the chickens. 'Bout a dozen of 'em, plus a rooster who thinks he runs the whole place. His name's Jasper. He's got an attitude problem, but he lays... well, the hens lay. He just struts around makin' noise."
You laughed. "He sounds like a character."
"He's a menace," Michael corrected, grinning. "But a lovable one. Then I got two goats — Bill 'nd Nanny. Billy's a little escape artist. Got out three times last month, 'nd I found him eatin' my neighbor's roses every single time."
"Oh no."
"Oh yes. Neighbor ain't spoken to me since." He shook his head, but he was smiling. "And then there's the cows. I got a small herd — 'bout fifteen or so. They're mostly just... cows. They stand around, chew grass, look at you like you owe 'em money."
You laughed again, and the sound of it seemed to settle something in him. He watched you with a soft expression, like he was enjoying the sight of you smiling in his kitchen.
You looked out the window, at the green fields stretching toward the barn in the distance. The morning light was warm on the grass, and somewhere out there a horse nickered, soft and distant.
"Could we go see them?" you asked, turning back to him. "The horses, I mean. I've always liked horses."
Michael's face did something quiet and pleased, like you'd asked him something he'd been hoping to hear. "Yeah," he said, setting his mug down and pushing back from the table. "Yeah, I'd like that. Let me just grab my boots."
He was already moving, and you smiled at his back, at the easy way he'd said yes. You stood too, and followed him toward the door, the morning stretching out warm and unhurried ahead of you both.
The screen door creaked as Michael held it open for you.
A cool breeze met you the second you stepped outside, carrying the smell of damp earth and fresh-cut grass. The sun had climbed higher while you'd been eating, burning away the last of the morning haze. Everything looked washed clean in the light.
The farm stretched farther than you'd realized from the kitchen window.
Rolling pasture disappeared into the distance, fenced in with weathered wood. A faded red barn stood a little ways off, its doors thrown open, and beyond that sat a wide paddock where two horses grazed lazily with their heads low.
"C'mon," Michael said, slipping his hands into his pockets. "They're out this way."
You fell into step beside him. The gravel crunched beneath your boots as you walked. Every now and then he kicked a loose stone off the path without thinking, his stride long but unhurried, always slowing just enough so you didn't have to keep up.
"You've lived here your whole life?" you asked.
"Mhm."
He nodded toward the fields.
"Parents bought the place when I was just a little thing. Not much changed since then."
"You never wanted to leave?"
He thought about it.
"I did."
You looked over at him.
"When I was younger." He shrugged. "Thought there had t' be somethin' bigger out there."
"And?"
He smiled to himself.
"Turns out... bigger ain't always better."
There wasn't any sadness in the way he said it. Just certainty.
"I like knowin' everybody in town. Like wakin' up before the sun. Like hearin' the birds instead'a traffic." He glanced toward you. "Guess I'm a simple man."
"I don't think simple's the right word."
"No?"
"I think... content."
That earned a quiet laugh.
"I'll take that."
They walked another few yards before the horses noticed them. The chestnut mare lifted her head first. Her ears perked immediately.
"Daisy," Michael called.
The mare whinnied softly before breaking into an eager trot toward the fence. You laughed.
"Oh my God, she really does come when you call."
"Told ya."
He climbed onto the lowest fence rail with practiced ease, leaning over to scratch behind Daisy's ears. She practically melted into him, nudging insistently against his shoulder until he laughed again.
"Easy now."
Watching him with the horse was... different.
He became even gentler somehow.
His voice dropped into a soft murmur, fingers brushing through her mane with absent affection, and Daisy responded to every touch like she trusted him completely.
"You've got her wrapped around your finger."
"Nah." He rubbed her forehead. "I'm the one wrapped around hers."
You smiled. "I can tell."
He looked over his shoulder at you.
"You wanna pet her?"
"I don't know if she'll like me."
Michael looked almost offended by the suggestion.
"Daisy likes everybody."
He stepped aside, leaving space beside him.
"Come here."
You approached slowly, reaching out with a cautious hand.
The mare sniffed your fingers, her breath warm against your skin, before nudging your palm with her nose.
"Oh."
Your face lit up.
"Hi."
Michael watched the entire exchange with an expression so soft it almost hurt.
"See?"
You scratched gently between Daisy's eyes.
"She's beautiful."
"Ain't she?"
You turned to him with a grin that was brighter than the morning sun.
"I think she likes me."
"I think she's already decided you're stayin'."
The words slipped out before he realized he'd said them. His eyes widened.
"I—I mean—"
His ears immediately turned pink.
"I just meant..." He rubbed the back of his neck. "Long enough t' get your car fixed."
You couldn't help smiling.
"I know what you meant."
"...Right."
He looked very interested in Daisy's mane all of a sudden.
You bit back a laugh.
The barn had a different kind of quiet than the rest of the farm.
Outside, there was always something moving — the rustle of grass in the wind, the distant call of birds, the occasional sound of an animal making itself known. But inside the barn, everything felt slower. The air was warmer, heavy with the scent of hay and old wood, with sunlight slipping through the cracks between the boards and painting golden lines across the floor.
You'd been following Michael around for most of the morning, watching him move from one task to another. He had shown you the horses, introduced you to the chickens like they were actual members of the family, and warned you very seriously not to trust Bill the goat, who apparently had a personal vendetta against anything that looked expensive.
You were beginning to understand why he liked it here. There was something peaceful about it.
And there was something about Michael himself that fit into it perfectly.
He stood near Daisy's stall, one hand resting on the wooden gate while he checked the latch. His sleeves were still rolled up, his flannel slightly worn at the elbows, and that hat sat on his head like it had been there forever.
Eventually, you couldn't help yourself.
"So…" you said, leaning against the half-door of Daisy's stall. "Do cowboys ever take those hats off?"
Michael looked up from fastening the latch.
"Hm?"
You pointed at him.
"The hat."
He blinked.
"I've been wondering all morning."
His hand instinctively touched the brim. A small smile tugged at his mouth.
"Yeah, I take it off."
"Hmm."
He narrowed his eyes slightly.
"What?"
"I don't know. I'm starting to think it's attached."
He laughed, shaking his head. "It ain't attached."
"You sure?"
"Pretty sure."
You looked at him, pretending to study the hat. "I've never actually seen you without it."
Michael opened his mouth to respond, then paused. You caught it. Your eyebrows lifted.
"What?"
"You hesitated."
"I did not."
"You did."
He gave a quiet laugh, looking down at the ground.
"You're somethin' else."
"That's not a denial."
Michael's jaw worked, but nothing came out. He just stood there in the barn door's shadow, arms folded, that worn straw hat low over his eyes, and you watched him try to find words. Before he could answer, you stepped closer. There was a little bit of hay caught near the brim, and you reached up without thinking.
Michael went still.
Not because you were doing anything strange, but because you were suddenly close. Close enough to smell him — hay and sweat and something warm underneath, like sun-baked leather. Your fingers brushed the edge of the hat, and before he could say anything, you lifted it from his head.
"There," you said, placing it on your own. The band was still warm from his skin. "See? Not attached." You tipped the brim slightly, grinning. "How do I look?"
Michael stared. Like his brain had forgotten what it was supposed to do. His eyes moved from the hat, to you, and then immediately away again — but not before they caught on your mouth.
And you saw it, the way his gaze snagged there for half a second too long. The tips of his ears turned pink first, then the color slowly crept down his neck, into the collar of his shirt. You lowered your smile.
"Michael?"
He cleared his throat, and his voice came out rough.
"Yeah. Uh..." His hand rubbed the back of his neck. "Y' might wanna..." He gestured vaguely toward the hat. "...take that off."
You blinked.
"What?"
"The hat."
You laughed softly. "Why? You said it wasn't attached."
"I know, I know." He shook his head quickly. "'s just..."
He looked genuinely embarrassed now, which only made you more confused. His eyes kept flicking to the hat on your head and then away, like he couldn't stand to look at it and couldn't stand not to.
"What?"
Michael glanced toward the barn door, then back at you, like he was hoping someone else might magically appear and save him from the conversation.
Finally, he sighed.
"My brothers... They used t' give me a hard time 'bout it."
"About the hat?"
"About what it means when somebody takes it."
You frowned slightly.
"What it means?"
He nodded, then immediately looked like he regretted saying anything. He shifted his weight, and the movement made his shirt pull across his shoulders, and you noticed it in a way you hadn't before.
"There's... kinda an old cowboy thing." You waited. Michael swallowed, his throat working.
"People joke that if... if a woman takes a cowboy's hat, it means she— uh... that she wants to... ride the cowboy, 'f y' know what I mean..." He mumbled the last words, almost too embarrassed to say it out loud.
The silence they left behind felt different than before— heavier, warmer, like the air had gotten thick.
You stared at him.
A beat passed.
Then another.
"Oh..."
His face somehow got even redder.
"Yeah."
"Oh."
"I know."
"No, I mean—"
You reached up quickly, taking the hat off your head. "I didn't know that—"
"I know you didn't."
"I was literally just messing with you."
"I know."
He smiled a little, trying to reassure you, but he still looked mortified. The smile didn't reach his eyes — his eyes were doing something else entirely, tracking you, watching the way your fingers moved over the brim.
"I figured."
The silence that followed was awkward, but not uncomfortable. Because now you were both suddenly aware of something that hadn't been there a few minutes ago. The closeness.
The way his eyes kept flicking back to you before he caught himself. The way you were suddenly very aware that his hat had been sitting on your head, warm from his skin, smelling like him.
You looked at it, then held it out to him.
"Here."
Michael reached for it, and your fingers brushed. Both of you paused. It was barely a second. But it was enough.
His hand was calloused and rough against yours, and he didn't pull away right away — he let the contact sit there, skin to skin, and you felt the heat of his palm before he finally closed his fingers around the hat and took it back. He settled it onto his head, pulling the brim down slightly lower than before, like he was hiding behind it.
You watched his throat move when he swallowed.
"You know," he said quietly, "for what it's worth..."
You looked at him. A small smile appeared on his face, and this time it reached his eyes.
"Y' did look good 'n it."
Your cheeks warmed.
"Thanks."
He nodded, looking away — but not before you caught the way his gaze dropped to your lips again, lingered, and then dragged itself up to meet yours.
"Y' welcome."
Neither of you moved. The barn creaked around you, and somewhere a horse shifted in its stall, and you both stood there in the warm, hay-scented quiet, the hat between you like a line neither of you was quite ready to cross.
Michael looked away first.
And you could see the effort it took. The way his jaw tightened slightly, the way he adjusted the brim of his hat even though it didn't need adjusting. Like he was trying to put something back into place.
"Well," he murmured, clearing his throat. "I should probably finish up out here before lunch." You nodded, even though neither of you moved right away.
"Right." Another pause.
Then Michael gave you that small, shy smile of his.
"Come on. I'll show you the rest of the place."
You followed him out of the barn, but the moment didn't disappear behind you. It followed you. It lingered in the space between you as you walked across the farm, in the quiet glances that lasted a second too long, in the way Michael seemed just a little more careful with himself than he had been before. Not distant. Just... aware.
Like he had become suddenly conscious of every little thing he did around you.
Michael showed you the rest of the property like he had promised. He took you past the old fence line that bordered the far pasture, pointed out the creek that ran along the back of the land, and told you about the time he had found Bill the goat halfway up a stack of hay bales with absolutely no explanation for how he'd gotten there.
You laughed so hard at the story that Michael had to stop walking just to look at you.
"What?" you asked, noticing. He shook his head. "Nothin'."
"You were staring."
"I was not."
"You were."
A small smile tugged at his mouth. "Just ain't heard someone laugh like that in a while."
Michael seemed to realize he'd said something too honest because he looked away, clearing his throat and turning his attention back toward the pasture.
"You wanna see the creek?" You smiled.
"Yeah."
And you followed him. By the time you made your way back toward the house, the afternoon sun had started to soften. The golden light stretched across the fields, catching on the tall grass and making everything look like it belonged in a painting. You found yourself slowing down. Not because you were tired. Because you didn't want the walk to end. That thought surprised you. You barely knew this man.
Before yesterday, you hadn't even known he existed. And yet somehow, walking beside him felt easy. Natural.
Michael noticed you had fallen behind and slowed his pace.
"Y' alright?"
You looked up. "Yeah, 'm good."
He studied you for a moment.
"Well..."
He looked toward the house, then back at you.
"I should probably start on dinner soon."
The thought of him cooking made you smile.
"You cook every day?"
"Most days."
"By yourself?"
"Mhm."
"That's actually kind of impressive."
He laughed softly.
"'s nothin'."
"You always say that."
"What?"
"That everything you do isn't a big deal."
Michael looked at you. Because you both knew what you really meant. Stopping on the road. Giving you a place to sleep. Making you breakfast.
His expression softened.
"Y' would've done the same."
The certainty in his voice caught you off guard. You weren't sure you would have. Michael didn't seem to think kindness was something special. He just thought it was something people were supposed to give.
Dinner was quiet. Not uncomfortable or awkward. You both were just quieter than before.
There was a new kind of awareness sitting between you both, something neither of you had acknowledged out loud but both of you seemed to feel. The easy conversation from earlier was still there, the small smiles and little jokes, but now there was something underneath it.
You found yourself noticing things you hadn't before— the way Michael's slender fingers curled around his fork, or the way his eyes would drift toward you before quickly finding somewhere else to look. And he wasn't the only one. Every time he adjusted the brim of his hat, every time his fingers brushed over it, you remembered the way it had felt in your hands. Warm from him. Carrying the faint scent of soap, leather, and the outdoors.
It was ridiculous how something so small had changed the atmosphere between you. But it had. Michael seemed to feel it too.
After dinner, the two of you moved into the living room, the sound of rain beginning softly against the windows. It had started while you'd been clearing the dishes, a gentle tapping that slowly grew heavier until it filled the entire house. Michael stood by the window for a while, looking out at the fields.
"You like storms?"
You sat on the couch, watching him.
"Sometimes."
He glanced over.
"Sometimes?"
You smiled.
"Depends where I am."
He nodded like he understood.
"Yeah. I guess it does."
The lights flickered once. Then again. Michael looked up.
"Well."
A second later, the whole house went dark. You both laughed quietly.
"That figures," you said.
Michael disappeared into the kitchen, returning with a few candles. The soft glow filled the room, making the farmhouse feel even older somehow. Warmer. You watched him set one down on the table.
It was strange.
A man you'd met yesterday.
A house you'd never seen before. And yet sitting there in the candlelight, listening to the rain, it felt familiar. Michael sat across from you, resting his forearms on his knees. For a while, neither of you spoke. It was the kind of silence that happened when two people were thinking the same thing but neither wanted to be the first to say it.
Your car would be fixed tomorrow. You would leave. And somehow, after only a day and a half, the thought felt heavier than it should have. You looked down at your hands.
"You know..."
Michael looked up.
"I thought I'd be counting down the hours until that car was fixed."
His expression shifted slightly. He glanced over.
"And now?"
The question was quiet and hung in the air You looked toward the rain-covered window. The fields beyond it were barely visible through the storm.
"Now I'm not so sure."
The silence that followed felt different. Just full.
Michael looked down at his hands, his thumb brushing slowly over one of the calluses along his palm. You noticed the small movement, the way he seemed to retreat into himself whenever something mattered too much. For a moment, he didn't say anything. Then his voice came quieter than before.
"Don't say things like that 'f y' don't mean 'em, suga'."
Your eyes moved back to him.
"Why?"
Michael swallowed. His gaze stayed fixed on his hands. Because he had been trying. God, he had been trying.
Trying not to read too much into the way you smiled at him. Trying not to remember the feeling of your fingers brushing his when you'd handed his hat back. Trying to forget how incredibly beautiful you looked yesterday, in your pretty black lace set.
"'cause..."
He stopped. The rain filled the silence for him. Then he looked up.
"'cause I've been trying real hard not to hope you might."
Your breath caught slightly. Michael immediately looked away, almost like he regretted letting the words escape.
"I know 's probably ridiculous."
"It's not."
His eyes returned to yours.
"You don't even know me." A small, smile touched his mouth. "And I don't know you. Not really...But I think I know enough."
He looked down again.
"Know 'nough t' know I like havin' y here."
Your throat went dry.
"I don't expect anything from you." He said it quickly, like he needed you to understand. "I mean that."
You nodded.
"I know."
"Your car gets fixed tomorrow, 'nd you go wherever y' headed."
You stood slowly. Michael looked up as you moved closer. Neither of you spoke again. The storm raged outside, but inside the farmhouse everything felt impossibly still.
"You know," you said softly, "for someone who says he's not hoping..." A tiny smile touched your lips. "You don't hide it very well."
Michael let out a quiet laugh, but it was nervous.
"No?"
"No."
You were close now. And still, he didn't move. He just looked at you. Waiting.
The candlelight flickered across his face, catching the slight tremor in his jaw. His hands stayed at his sides, fingers curling and uncurling like he was physically holding himself back. Waiting. Always waiting for you to decide.
You reached up.
Slowly.
Giving him every chance to move away.
His breath caught when your fingers brushed the brim of his hat. You didn't take it off. You just let your hand rest there, feeling the warmth of him beneath the shadow of it.
"Can I?" you whispered.
Michael's eyes searched yours.
He didn't ask what you meant.
He already knew.
"Yeah," he breathed, barely audible over the rain. "Suga', you can do whatever you want with me."
The words hit you low in the chest. You pushed the hat back off his head. It fell to the floor between you, forgotten. And then his hands were on you. Not gentle. Not careful.
His fingers curled into the fabric of your shirt at your waist and pulled, and you came against him with a soft gasp, your palms flat on his chest. He was warm. Solid. Real in a way the last two days hadn't quite felt.
"Michael—"
"I been wantin' to do this since you walked up my drive," he said, voice rough, eyes dark. "Since you stood in my kitchen smilin' at me like that. Y' such a pretty girl."
He ducked his head and kissed you. It was hungry.
His mouth slanted over yours, one hand sliding up to cup the back of your neck, tilting your head back. The other stayed at your waist, thumb pressing hard against your hip through the fabric. He kissed like a man who had spent too long holding back, like he'd been rationing this moment and had finally decided to spend it all at once.
You let out a soft sigh against his mouth. He swallowed it.
His tongue swept along your lower lip and you opened for him, and the groan that rumbled from his chest vibrated straight through you. He tasted like coffee and rain and something warm. His hand tightened in your hair, not pulling, just holding, like he was afraid you'd slip away if he loosened his grip.
The storm pressed against the windows. Neither of you heard it.
You broke apart only when you needed air, foreheads pressed together, both of you breathing hard. His thumb traced the line of your jaw, feather-light, and when he spoke his voice was wrecked.
"Told myself I wasn't gonna do that."
You laughed, breathless.
"Glad you lied."
He let out a shaky sound that might have been a laugh, might have been something else. His hand came up to cup your face, and he looked at you like you were the only warm thing in the storm. You pulled him back down.
The second kiss was slower. Deeper. His hands found the hem of your shirt and tugged it up, and you lifted your arms and let him peel it over your head, the fabric whispering past your skin, dragging over the curve of your breasts before it slid away.
He broke the kiss just long enough to look at you— and the way his eyes went dark, the way they dropped to your chest and lingered, made your stomach tighten into a hot, wanting knot.
"Jesus," he breathed, and it came out wrecked, like he'd forgotten how to make a sound.
His thumb traced the curve of your breast through the lace of your bra, feather-light, almost reverent, like he was memorizing the weight of you in his hand. He cupped you, tested the give of you, and a low sound rumbled in his chest. Then he dipped his head and pressed his mouth to the hollow of your throat, tongue dragging over your pulse, and the sound you made wasn't one you planned. A soft, broken whimper.
"Michael─"
"Shh," he murmured against your skin, his hands sliding around your back to unhook your bra, his fingers working the clasp like he'd been dreaming of it. "Lemme take care of y', baby."
The clasp gave with a soft click. The straps slid down your shoulders, and he pulled the lace away and let it fall, and then his mouth was on you. Hot and open-mouthed, his tongue dragging flat across your nipple before he sucked it between his lips. Your fingers dug into his shoulders, your back arching into him, offering more, and he took it. He laved and sucked and bit down just enough to make you gasp, his hand cupping your other breast, thumb working the nipple into a tight, aching peak.
"That's it," he said against your skin, his voice low and rough and thick with wanting. "'s my good girl. God, y' have so pretty tits, honey baby. So soft."
He worked his way down your body, kissing a slow, deliberate trail down your sternum, your ribs, the soft swell of your belly. His mouth lingered on the curve of your hip, his teeth grazing the skin there, and his hands gripped you, fingers sinking into the skin of your hips, thumbs pressing into the jut of bone. He held you like you were something to be savored, not rushed. And when he sank to his knees on the floor in front of the couch, between your spread thighs, you knew exactly what was coming.
He looked up at you from between your legs, the candlelight catching the hunger in his eyes, and he was already breathing hard.
"Wanna taste y', suga'."
You didn't have words. You just nodded.
He hooked his fingers into the waistband of your jeans and pulled them down your legs, panties with them, slow and deliberate, dragging the denim over the curve of your ass and down your thighs. And the way he looked at you when you were bare, the way his gaze traveled the length of you, lingering on the soft roll of your hips, the plush of your thighs— made your breath catch.
He pressed a kiss to the inside of your thigh. Then the other. Each one higher than the last, his mouth working closer and closer, until his breath ghosted hot and wet against your slick, so close you could feel the heat of him.
"Already this wet fo' me," he murmured, almost to himself, his voice filled with desire. "Look at ya', baby. Soaked. 'nd I ain't even touched y' yet."
And then his tongue dragged up the length of you, flat and slow, from your entrance all the way to your clit, and your hips bucked off the couch. "C'mon, angel, lemme get a taste o' this sweet lil' pussy..."
"Oh fuck!—"
He repeated the action.
He licked your cunt like he was starving, like he'd been thinking about this since the moment you walked up his drive, like he'd been starving for the taste of you for years. His tongue circled your clit, flicked, pressed flat and broad, and every time you gasped he'd groan against you like the sound drove him crazy. His hands gripped your thighs, almost with a bruising grip, spreading you wider, holding you open for him, and he buried his face in you like he wanted to drown in your juices.
"Taste like honey," he said against you, the words vibrating straight through your clit, making your whole body clench. "Sweetest thing I ever had, hunny. Could eat this pussy all goddamn night."
He sucked your clit into his mouth and you cried out, your hand flying down to tangle in his hair, gripping him there. He let you hold him, let you grind against his mouth, and he took it— took all of it— groaning like he wanted to live between your thighs. Two fingers pushed into your slickness then, curling, crooking against that spot that made your vision blur, and he pumped them slow while his tongue worked you in relentless circles.
"Please," you managed, your voice breaking. "Michael, please—"
"Please what, beautiful?"
"Want you. Want—" You couldn't finish. You couldn't think. How could someones mouth feel this fucking good?
He pulled back just enough to look at you, his mouth slick and shining with you, chin wet, eyes nearly black in the candlelight. He was wrecked. You'd wrecked him.
"Want what, suga'? Tell me. Talk t' me"
"Want you inside me."
A slow, teasing smile spread across his face, and his fingers curled deeper inside you, making you moan.
"You'll get it. But I want y' t' come on my tongue first." He lowered his head again, his breath hot against your soaked pussy. "Want t' feel it, sweet girl. Want y' t' soak my face. Drown me in it."
He went back to work, and this time he didn't let up. His fingers fucked you in a steady, curling rhythm while his mouth worked your clit, and the pressure built and built until you were shaking, your thighs trembling around his head, your whole body drawn tight as a wire. And he felt it. He felt every shudder, every clench; and he groaned against you like it was killing him.
"Thaaat's it," he said, his voice muffled against you, his fingers never stopping. "Come fo' me, pretty baby. Come on my tongue. Soak me."
And you did. It hit you like the storm outside, white-hot and blinding, your whole body bowing off the couch as you cried out his name. He lapped you through it, slow and greedy, drinking every drop, not stopping until you were twitching and oversensitive and gasping for air, until you had to push weakly at his head.
He kissed his way back up your body, slow and deliberate, dragging his slick mouth over your belly, your breasts, your throat. And when he kissed you, you could taste yourself on his tongue, salty and sweet. He was hard against your hip, straining through his jeans, thick and insistent, and you reached for him.
"My turn."
He caught your wrist.
"Not yet, sweet baby." His voice was wrecked, barely holding together, shaking at the edges. "Want y' t' come on my dick. Want t' feel that pretty little pussy squeeze me while y' fall apart."
The words went straight through you, hot and liquid, pooling low in your belly.
He stood, shucked off his shirt, and worked open his belt, the leather sliding through the loops. His jeans came down, and when he stepped out of them you got your first look at him — thick and hard and leaking, the head flushed and slick, his hand wrapped around the base. He was beautiful. He was everything.
"See what y' do t' me, suga'?" He stroked himself slowly, his jaw tight, his knuckles dragging up the length of him. "Been hard since y' stood in my kitchen. Been thinkin' about this sweet ass of yours all goddamn day." His vulgar words and confident tone shocked you. Was this really the shy boy from the barn you thought you knew? But you didn't mind. Not at all.
He climbed onto the couch, settling back against the armrest, and reached for you, his hands finding your hips and pulling you toward him.
"Come here, honey baby."
You straddled him. His hands found your hips, thumbs stroking the soft skin and he looked up at you with something raw and unguarded in his eyes, something that made your chest ache.
"You sure?"
"Michael." You reached down and wrapped your hand around him, and his breath hissed through his teeth, his eyes fluttering shut. "I've never been more sure of anything."
He guided you up, the head of his cock pressing against your slick, wet heat, and then he looked at you, one last question in his eyes. You answered by sinking down.
The two of you groaned together as he filled you, inch by inch, the stretch of him making your eyes roll back. He was so thick, so warm, and you felt impossibly, perfectly full. His cock splitting you open, seating deep inside you until you were flush against him, his hips against yours, his balls pressed to your ass.
"God," he breathed, his head falling back against the couch, his hands gripping your hips hard enough to leave marks. "Feel that, sweet girl? Feel how good y' take me? Ohhh, look at ya. All that soft ass, all that curve, sittin' on my cock like y' were made for it."
His words made you whimper. You rolled your hips, experimental, grinding down on him, and his hands clenched on your waist, a low groan tearing out of him.
"'s it. Ride me, baby. Fuck yourself on my cock."
You found your rhythm slowly, then faster, your hands braced on his chest, your tits bouncing in his face with every stroke. He watched you with dark, hungry eyes, his gaze dropping to your breasts, to the way they moved, and he reached up and cupped them, thumbing your nipples, groaning.
"Lord, y' so beautiful," he said, his voice rough and reverent. "Look at these perfect tits. Takin' all o' me. Squeezin' me so damn good."
You leaned forward and kissed him, sloppy and open-mouthed, and he groaned into it, his tongue tangling with yours. "Mmmm, Mikey... Y' feel soo good." You mumbled messily against his mouth. "Yeah? 'm fucki' you good, baby?" A little 'mhm!' sound left your lips.
His hands slid down to grip your ass, squeezing hard, kneading the soft flesh, guiding your pace as you rode him.
"My perfect, beautiful girl..."
You rode him harder, the sound of skin against skin filling the room, wet and obscene, and he let you take what you needed. But then his hands tightened on your hips, and he stilled you.
"Turn around, sweetheart."
You blinked, breathless.
"want to watch that ass bounce on my cock. Want to watch it swallow me up."
He helped you lift off him, the sudden loss of him making you whimper, and then he guided you to turn around, your back to his chest. He pulled you down onto him again, and you both groaned as he filled you from behind, his cock sliding back into you to the hilt.
"Jesus," he breathed against your ear, his hands already gripping your hips. "Feel even better this way, beautiful. Look at that pretty ass..."
You rode him reverse, his hands gripping your hips, his mouth on your shoulder, your neck, kissing down your spine while you moved. The angle made his cock drag against a spot that made your thighs shake, made you gasp and grind down harder. "Shit─ y' so deep in me, Mikey─"
And then his hands moved— one sliding up your back, the other reaching down to grip your ass, and then he spread you. He spread you open with his thumbs, pulling the cheeks apart, and you felt the cool air on your slick, wet flesh, felt him watching you — watching himself slide in and out of you. He groaned, a sound so raw it vibrated through your whole body.
"Ohh," he breathed, his voice wrecked with wonder. "Look at that. Look at my cock goin' in 'nd out o' ya. 'nd look—" His thumb traced the base of him where he was buried inside you, and you felt the creamy ring that had formed there, the mess of you and him slicking his skin. "Look at that, sweet girl. Look at all that cream. 's aaaall you, baby. That's how wet this pussy 's fo' me. How bad you want it."
You whimpered, grinding down on him, and he let you feel him watching, his eyes burning into the place where you were joined.
"Right there," you gasped. "Don't stop."
"Not stoppin', sweet girl. Not 'till y' come on my dick."
His hand slid around to your front, fingers finding your clit, slick and swollen, and you cried out. He worked you in tight circles while you rode him, his other arm banded across your chest, holding you against him, his cock buried deep inside you.
"'s it, sweetheart. Feel that? Feel how deep I am? Feel how good I fill ya up?"
"Yes—"
"Y' gonna come fo' me? Gonna soak my dick like a good girl? Gonna cream aaall over me?"
"Yes, Michael, yes!—"
"Come on, pretty baby. Let go. Come all over me. Make a mess."
You shattered.
Your body clenched around him, wave after wave, your pussy milking him, and he groaned through it, his hips bucking up into you, driving deeper.
"Thaaaat's it. Fuck, feel you squeezin' me."
He didn't let you stop. He shifted beneath you, and before you could catch your breath he was lifting you off him, pressing you down onto the couch on your hands and knees, your ass up, your spine arching.
"Flat, baby," he said, his voice soft but commanding. "Arch that pretty back fo' me. Push that pretty ass up."
You obeyed. His hands spread your thighs wider, and you felt the head of his cock press against you, slick with you and him, the mess of your cream coating his skin.
"Messy girl," he breathed, his hands gripping the soft flesh of your cheeks, squeezing, spreading. "So messy, sweet girl. So perfect. Love this perfect body o' yours."
He pushed in. Slow. Inch by inch, until he was buried to the hilt, and then he stilled, both of you breathing hard, his balls pressed against your wet flesh.
"You feel that, hunny? Feel how deep I am?"
"Yes," you whimpered.
He pulled out almost all the way, so slowly you felt every inch of him dragging against your walls, and then he slammed back in, and you cried out, your fingers clawing at the cushion.
"That's it," he growled. "Take it, baby. Take all of me."
He set a brutal pace, deep and hard, his hands gripping your hips hard enough to bruise, and the sound of it filled the room— the wet slap of his hips against your ass, the slick sound of him driving into your soaked cunt, the heavy, obscene slap of his balls against your flesh with every thrust. The couch creaked beneath you, the rain hammered the windows, and your moans mixed with his grunts, a filthy, perfect rhythm.
"You feel so good," he said, his voice wrecked, barely holding together. "So wet, baby. Squeezin' me like y' never wanna let go." Then he slapped your ass, a sharp, wet crack that made you gasp. "Love watchin' it bounce. Love the way it takes me."
He leaned over you, his chest pressed to your back, his mouth at your ear, his breath hot and ragged.
"That feel good, beautiful?"
"Yes—"
"Say it, sweet girl. Tell me how good it feels."
"So good," you gasped. "Mikey, y' feel so good—"
"Mhm," he groaned. "Feels so good."
He drove into you harder, faster, his hand sliding around to grip your throat — not squeezing, just holding, tilting your head back against his shoulder. His other hand found your clit again, working you in tight, relentless circles, and you were already so close, the pressure coiling tight and hot in your belly.
"Y' mine tonight, angel. All mine. Gonna come again, sweet girl? Gonna come on my cock again?"
"Mhm!—"
"Come on, then. Come on me. Let me feel it. Soak me, baby."
You came with a cry, your body clenching around him so hard he groaned and drove into you through it, his hips stuttering, chasing his own release.
"Just like that," he said, his voice shaking, wrecked. "Ohh, that's my good girl. That's my beautiful—"
He buried himself deep and came with a shudder, his hips grinding against you, a groan torn from his throat as he filled you, hot and pulsing, spilling deep inside you. You felt every pulse of him, felt him empty into you, and you collapsed together onto the couch, both of you breathing hard, slick with sweat and each other.
He pulled out slowly, and you felt the mess of him and you slide down your thigh, warm and wet. He kissed the back of your neck, soft and tender, his hand stroking the curve of your hip.
"Y' so beautiful, baby," he murmured against your skin. "'m gonna take good care of you..."
( ˶°ㅁ°) !! 0.7k, nsfw ) bambi (otw era)!michael jackson x fem afab reader: bambi boy and faline girl hcs <3
cws: nsfw, mommy (mama/ma used) and daddy kinks simultaneously, sub!michael, soft dom!reader, reader is slightly older, corruption kink somewhat(?), one dacryphilia hc
bambi!michael who's all bright, doe eyes, rosy cheeks, and long limbs. younger than you by a year or two, maybe three, and yet larger, with hands that could easily pin you (but rarely do, he's too shy) and a broad chest. he never knows what to do with himself fully, always feeling slightly out of place unless he's standing next to you.
bambi!michael whose pout is just the cutest thing in the world, his lower lip jutted as you tease him over one thing or another. maybe you're spending too much time with one of his brothers or maybe you're just being difficult, denying him what he wants in the moment. it's stronger than any puppy dog pout you've ever seen, almost always working in getting you to concede to his wishes.
bambi!michael whose innocent demeanor isn't a facade by any means, but merely a lid on top of something more instinctive. every now and then you'll catch his gaze lingering on you, lower lip being bitten enough to puncture skin as his gentle eyes trace the curve of your ass. salivation builds up before his cheeks flush and he looks away, opting to resist temptation for the time being.
bambi!michael who cries sometimes when he comes, especially if you haven't touched him in a long time. quivering lips just barely manage to gasp out shaky words before long spurts of cum shoot from his tip and into your hand. tears well up in his eyes, then stream down his cheeks because he feels so good and he loves you so much. unable to stop his tears, he instead lets them flow freely, smiling sheepishly before resting his forehead against your body.
bambi!michael who's been nicknamed bambi by you since... forever, it feels like. of course, that makes you faline, his darling one and only. you're just like her, too, all playful and girlish and troublesome in the best way. "faline," he calls to you, his voice so sweet it's saccharine as he gestures for you to come over, "get over here. i missed you, girl."
bambi!michael who curls against you as you fist his dick, letting his head rest along your shoulder as soft, shaky breaths escape his lips. "oh, oh baby..." he murmurs as you stroke along his length, thumb running gingerly along his slit. large hands, eager hands, needy hands grip along your rear, forcing you to stay close even after he's finished. while panting, he kisses against your collarbone, "you're too good to me, mhmm... so good, mama."
bambi!michael who grins against your cheek as you spoon him from behind, pumping him fervently and whispering in his ear. "gonna come for me, daddy?" you ask michael, a heat rushing over you as he nods eagerly against you. hips stuttering, toes curling, dick fully erect and weeping— "looks like daddy wants to come," you muse, "gonna give me every last drop, aren't you, daddy?"
"oh, mama... yes, gonna give it all to you, just keep going, just like that," he coaxes, his hand covering yours, urging you to go faster. "daddy's close, you're doing so well, daddy's almost there—"
"look at that," you whisper, swallowing as his dick (so big for such a subby man) twitches and cum begins to flow and squirt out. "such a mess for mama."
he kisses your jawline, then nips lightly, "can't help it." michael's lips find your ear to murmur, "you always make daddy feel so good, ma."
bambi!michael who's such a submissive, he'll top you if you want him to. he's such a sweetheart that if your pussy's really aching, he'll rub it. more than that, he'll suckle on your clit, working with his mouth until you spill yourself along his lips and chin. then, he pounds into you, asking if it feels good and moaning about how he's gonna fill you up just how you like it.
bambi!michael who, in between practices with his brothers and recording his own album, off the wall, struggles to fall asleep unless you're by his side, rubbing along his shoulders and back. michael adores feeling your body heat seep through cloth and skin as the night goes on; there's nothing more relaxing than having his sweet faline near.
looking for more?
i'm sure the bambi/faline nicknaming has been done before on mjblr but i wanted to put this out anyways. i just wanted to write some subby mike w a side of soft dom slightly older reader + rlly wanted to test out the concept of daddy/mama kinks simultaneously. hotter than i expected, imo. there's no story here so i can't promise a pt2 or anything LOL this is just like soft subby mike vibes and smut. it might even just be freakslop and, if so, i apologize. regardless, ty for reading.
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