2kwatts

Chapter 1: His Mouth On Mine

The bass from the speakers wasn't just sound—it was a second heartbeat, thudding through the concrete floor, up my legs, settling somewhere just beneath my sternum. The backstage pass dangled from my neck, a laminated impossibility that still felt warm from the printer. I’d won some contest I barely remembered entering, my Instagram handle buried in a comment section alongside three fire emojis and a desperate please-notice-me.

And now I was here.

The corridor smelled like industrial cleaner and something sweeter, maybe cologne, maybe the ghost of a fog machine from the stage. Twenty feet away, a door opened and closed with a soft click. Voices. Then footsteps.

I pressed my spine against the wall like I could dissolve into the drywall.

A security guard nodded at me—the same one who'd checked my pass three times, squinting at my face like I might be a hologram—and then he was gone, swallowed by a side door, and the corridor went quiet except for that bass, muffled now, a distant thunder.

Breathe.

Then the door opened again.

It wasn't the guard.

Michael Jackson stepped into the corridor, and the air changed. Thickened. He was taller than I'd imagined, lean in black slacks and a button-down the color of bone, sleeves rolled to his elbows. No sunglasses. His eyes found me immediately, and something flickered there—recognition, sharp and amused, a secret I hadn't been told yet.

"You're the one," he said.

Not a question.

His voice slid under my skin. Velvet over gravel.

"I—yes. Hi. The contest. I'm—"

"I know who you are." He took a step closer. Then another. The distance between us collapsed to something intimate, something that made my lungs forget their job. "I've been reading you."

The word landed wrong. Or right. Reading.

"Reading... me?"

"Your stories." A pause. His head tilted, a half-smile playing at the corner of his mouth. "The ones you post online. About me."

My stomach dropped so fast I felt it in my knees.

The fanfics. The explicit, shameless, please-god-don't-let-anyone-I-know-find-these fanfics I'd been writing for two years under an anonymous handle on a site buried deep enough that normal humans shouldn't have been able to stumble across it. Stories full of things I'd never say aloud, my own name swapped for a protagonist who was braver than me, dirtier than me, who did things with her mouth and her hips that I'd only ever typed out at two in the morning with my laptop burning my thighs.

"You..." My voice cracked. "You found them?"

"I have people who find things." His eyes didn't leave mine. "When I'm curious about someone."

Someone. He was curious about someone. And that someone was in a front-row seat at his concert, and then somehow—impossibly—backstage, wearing a crop top that showed off the silver barbell pierced through my navel, the one I'd gotten on a dare in college and kept because it made me feel like a different person when I caught my reflection.

His gaze dropped. To the belly ring. Lingered.

"This." He reached out, but didn't touch. His finger hovered an inch from the silver, the little gem that caught the fluorescent light and threw it back in blues and whites. "You wrote about this. In chapter four. The hotel room scene."

Oh god.

He'd read chapter four.

The one where I'd described—in painstaking, word-by-word detail—a fantasy version of myself on her knees, his thumb circling the jewelry in her navel, his mouth following the path of his hand, his voice murmuring filth against her skin. I'd written that paragraph seventeen times, deleting and rewriting, my face hot, my thighs pressed together.

"Standing here, you're quiet," he said. He was close enough now that I could smell him—clean soap, something woodsy, the faint chemical sweetness of stage makeup lingering near his jaw. "But in those stories..." A soft laugh. "In those stories, you're not quiet at all."

"That's—that's fiction."

"Is it?" His hand moved. Not to my stomach. To my chin. Two fingers beneath it, tilting my face up. The touch was feather-light but commanding, a question that wasn't asking for permission. "Because I read every chapter. Twice. And I don't think someone writes those things without meaning them. Without wanting them."

My mouth opened. Nothing came out.

"Chapter seven," he continued, and his voice dropped, lower, a register that vibrated somewhere in my chest. "The backstage scene. Interesting that we're here now, don't you think? Almost like you manifested it. You wrote about a door. A security guard who disappears. Me, finding you, telling you that I'd read your words."

I hadn't manifested anything. I wasn't that powerful. But the coincidence—the specificity—made the hallway tilt sideways.

"You remember how that chapter goes from here?"

My breath caught. Of course I remembered. I'd written it. Every word was seared into my brain because I'd agonized over dialogue, over pacing, over whether the protagonist saying please was too submissive or just submissive enough.

"You back me against the wall," I whispered.

"Say it again. Like you mean it."

My voice steadied, just barely. "You back me against the wall. And you tell me to stop pretending I didn't write those things for you to find."

His smile widened, slow and satisfied, like I'd passed some test I didn't know I was taking. His hand left my chin. Settled on my hip instead, thumb hooking through the belt loop of my jeans. The denim tugged, just slightly. Just enough.

"You wrote that I'd press my thigh between your legs." His face was inches from mine. "You wrote that I wouldn't kiss you yet. That I'd make you wait. Make you ask."

I was shaking. Not visibly—I hoped not visibly—but something inside my ribcage was vibrating like a struck tuning fork.

"That's what I wrote," I managed.

"But here's the thing about fiction." His thigh slid forward, barely brushing the inside of mine, and my breath left me in a rush. "Fiction can be edited. Rewritten. Improved. I have notes."

Notes.

"The belly ring," he said, and his voice went rougher. Hunger breaking through the velvet. "In your story, I notice it. I touch it. But I don't—" He paused, and his thumb moved from my belt loop to the sliver of bare skin between my jeans and the hem of my crop top. The touch was electric, a live wire pressed to my stomach. "I don't worship it. Not the way I want to. Not the way you deserve to have it worshipped."

The word deserve hit like a glass of wine on an empty stomach.

"Show me," he said.

"What?"

"The belly ring. Properly."

My hands moved before my brain caught up. I pinched the fabric of my crop top and lifted it, just an inch, then two, exposing the pale skin of my stomach and the silver jewelry glinting there. The air in the corridor was cold against my midriff, or maybe I was just hyperaware of every temperature change, every molecule touching me.

He went still. Really still. The kind of still that precedes something breaking open.

"Beautiful," he murmured. The word wasn't for me—it was for the jewelry, the way the barbell pierced through skin, the tiny gem that caught the light. He lowered himself, and I realized with a jolt that he was kneeling. Kneeling. Michael Jackson, on the floor of a backstage corridor, his face level with my navel.

"I wrote you on your knees," I breathed. "Chapter seven."

"You wrote me on my knees for a different reason." His breath fanned across my stomach, warm and intentional. "I'm revising." He looked up at me, and the power dynamic shifted so fast my head spun—he was below me but he owned this moment, owned me, owned every inch of space between us. "You're going to stand there. Quiet. And you're going to let me."

His lips grazed the skin above the barbell.

Not a kiss. A promise of one.

My hands fisted at my sides. The wall behind me was the only thing keeping me vertical.

"Chapter four," he said against my stomach, "you wrote that I'd taste you. That I'd trace the jewelry with my tongue and it would feel like a prayer." His mouth closed over the silver barbell, warm and wet, and my hips jerked forward without permission. "But you didn't go far enough. You pull back. Right when it gets good, you cut away to the next scene. Why is that?"

"Because I—" A gasp as his tongue flicked the gem. "Because I didn't know. What it would actually feel like."

"And now?"

His lips traveled lower, following the curve of the barbell, the tiny metal ball beneath my skin, the sensitive flesh around it. He kissed the piercing like it was something sacred. Like he'd been waiting years to do exactly this. His tongue traced a slow circle and I made a sound—low, involuntary, something between a whimper and his name.

"Now you know," he said.

He wasn't asking.

His hands found my hips, gripping them hard enough to anchor me. His mouth was relentless, lips and tongue and the gentle scrape of teeth, worshipping the piercing with a single-minded focus that made my vision blur at the edges. Every nerve in my body had relocated to that one point, the silver-studded focal point of his attention.

"You're going to rewrite chapter four," he said, pulling back just enough to speak, his breath hot and damp on my slick skin. "And chapter seven. And every other chapter you ever wrote about me."

"Why?" The word was barely air.

"Because fiction," he said, rising to his feet, his body pressing mine into the wall, his mouth hovering a millimeter from my ear, "becomes autobiography tonight."

His hand flattened against my stomach, palm covering the piercing, possessive and warm and trembling with something that felt like the beginning of an earthquake.

why am i seeing supposed michael jackson “fans” switching up on him after watching the documentary. first of all, why are you even watching that shit and engaging with that mess of a documentary when it was engineered from the start to manipulate people who don’t know the actual history. netflix purposely edited, cut, rearranged, and stripped context from interviews to make him look like a bad person, and the fact that anyone is letting this override actual legal history is embarrassing. michael jackson went through one of the most aggressive criminal investigations in modern entertainment, including a five month trial in 2005 where the prosecution brought in over seventy witnesses and still failed to produce a single piece of evidence. the jury didn’t hesitate. they acquitted him on every count because the case collapsed under real scrutiny. the fbi investigated him for more than ten years, monitored his phones, raided his homes, interviewed everyone around him, and found absolutely nothing. not a single illegal image. not a single witness who could substantiate wrongdoing. nothing. and netflix still refuses to mention that independent child psychologists, social workers, and trained forensic interviewers who evaluated the children involved found no indicators of abuse, that multiple families testified under oath that michael never behaved inappropriately, and that the santa barbara sheriff’s department conducted surprise inspections of neverland during the 90s and found nothing suspicious. the documentary also ignores that michael’s bedroom had an open door policy with staff constantly entering, that he was rarely alone due to security protocols, and that his medical team, tutors, and housekeepers never reported anything concerning.

it ignores that michael’s dermatologist and physicians documented his vitiligo and lupus, conditions that required constant treatment and made the idea of secretive, undetected abuse medically implausible it ignores that michael’s dermatologist and physicians documented his vitiligo and lupus, conditions that required constant medical examinations, full‑body skin evaluations, and regular specialist check‑ups, meaning multiple doctors were routinely inspecting his skin and overall health in ways that would have made any hidden injuries, secretive behaviour, or undetected abusive patterns medically implausible. it ignores that michael donated over 300 million dollars to children’s charities, funded burn units, paid for organ transplants, and visited hospitals worldwide without cameras, something even journalists acknowledged as genuine. meanwhile, the accusers contradicted their own stories, changed timelines, made claims that were physically impossible, and had lawsuits dismissed because their narratives didn’t match reality. michael never paid anyone to say he was innocent. the 1993 settlement was handled by his insurance company against his wishes, something confirmed in court documents. he never bribed a witness. he never paid for silence. he never bought loyalty. the people accusing him, on the other hand, repeatedly sought financial compensation, filed lawsuits after going bankrupt, and only “remembered” abuse when money became involved. the documentary also refuses to mention that both safechuck and robson’s lawsuits were thrown out because their claims were legally impossible. safechuck said he was abused in a train station that didn’t exist yet. robson testified under oath for twenty years that michael never touched him and only changed his story when he was denied a job by the estate. netflix doesn’t include any of this because it destroys the narrative they’re selling. and if you watched this documentary and suddenly don’t know what to believe, you’re letting a streaming service override court transcripts, sworn testimony, fbi files, independent psychological evaluations, medical records, and decades of evidence. if a documentary is enough to shake your belief in michael’s innocence, you were never a fan. michael jackson was investigated more intensely than any celebrity in history and came out clean every single time.

TOUGH CROWD

f!reader (young and wild reader) / bad era michael

part 1 (part 2 - spotlight)

(lowercase INTENDED!) & not proofread ! 18+, age gap, sexual themes, smut, praise, degradation, mention of breeding, dom!michael, oral (f receiving), public sex (if you really think about it), implied face riding.

preview: young, wild, and free you decide to bust into a hollywood party under your dj friends identity. thinking you are hiding pretty well and enjoying the night recklessly, you don’t realize the pinned point stare that has been dragging across your body the moment you walked in.

A/N: oh reading this request already had my brain go fuzzy at the thought of writing this out 😭 i’m actually so excited to write smut after so long maybe because i’m a secret freak in the inside LMAOO. n e ways, this one is a bit longer so hope you enjoy the ride !! (no pun intended LMFAOO)

“y/n this is absolutely ridiculous” your friend spoke while flicking her cigarette butt in the ash tray next to her as you roll your eyes.

you had just finished coming back home from another night out in west hollywood. mascara dried around your eyelids, lipstick nowhere to be found on your lips, and somehow you missed one shoe and you couldn’t find your bra.

your friend couldn’t stop laughing at your pathetic awakening as you roll your eyes soon tucking your legs under the soft blanket wrapped over your seat.

“it’s not though. especially when you think about being surrounded by a-list celebrities and filthy rich people.” shrugging, your friend raises their brow before tucking a strand of hair behind their ear attentively.

your plan was easy.

use your friends name under tonight’s huge celebrity club event in calabasas, sneak into the main room, and lose yourself all night once again enjoying the last few years of your youth.

3 night outs in a row and you still weren’t sick of the life. yeah maybe relaxing in bed and watching old movies was cool, but you also enjoyed the idea of living your life to the fullest every day. whether it’s clubbing all night, driving to another state, or breaking into celebrity areas to get your name around.

it felt like a challenge to do, which made you enjoy the risks of it even more.

your friend slips their dj credentials on the marble table across from you soon letting it slip below the tips of your fingers. as you come across the slip of paper you see all the information you must memorize before tonight.

this was the boring part of the whole thing.

actually learning and trying to become the person you aren’t.

“if anything fails, just know i’m not paying for your bail or bond money.” laughing at your sudden change of facial expression you let out another exhausted sigh looking at the paper once again.

tonight was going to be fun.

tonight was already a pain in your ass.

you lost count of the amount of times you flirted your way through the entire line of celebrities and people who wanted to just beg the bouncers to pass inside.

by the time 12am strikes, you finally reach the front of the line. the bouncer gives you a stern gaze by seeing your act of skipping the line, now dragging his eyes from your head to your toes.

before you could open your mouth and speak, he opens his hand letting his palm face upwards towards you. “name? id? invite?” 3 questions in 2 seconds my gosh.

what happened to hello pretty face? or better yet, nice tits, move inside.

you don’t like people sexualizing you or your body, BUT you couldn’t also deny your beauty and your overall attraction.

there’s a difference between feeling confident and throwing yourself out there like meat. and you were most certainly not the second one.

giving it a few seconds, you dig into your small vintage coach bag before taking out the fake id with your friends information.

thank god for marketing and art degrees.

you thought as your eyes stay stuck upon the bouncers. as his slimy fingers touch your own he looks down at the id. lips twist in amusement before looking back up at you.

“ok.” he quietly says.

that’s it.

nothing else nothing more before moving to the side as you give him a small half smile of appreciation. before walking halfway near him you soon hear the small whisper you were waiting for, now leave past his lips.

“damn nice tits.”

knew it.

laughing to yourself at the coincidence you slowly walk inside the nightclub. strobe flashes appear in different sides of the room as the place was packed full of people. you can surely smell the stench of perfume, sweat, and sweet liquor surround yourself as you breath in the smell.

you were back in your area.

before you knew it you begin your nightly fun.

drink after drink after drink you were sure you were already tipsy. however you were still well aware of your surroundings and your actions since you knew your limit. yet that did not stop you from still having shots poured in your mouth by random celebrities every 10 minutes.

as you continue having fun and spreading little harmless lies about your “career” as a dj, you don’t seem to realize the long hard stare that was coming from across the floor and towards your side.

michael was sitting near a booth quietly people watching as his team spread throughout the nightclub. all while making sure to make more connections for possible music collaborations or deals.

he wasn’t in the right headspace as he drowns down another shot of crown royal. the taste lingering like a buzz down his throat as his eyes stop towards your frame.

its been weeks since he’s been able to catch a break from the ‘bad’ tour and the promotions. his one night free a week kept him at-least sane before having to work 5 straight days non stop once more.

“who’s she?” michael questions towards his security guard as the older man simply shrugs his shoulders and rolls his neck, soon fixing his jacket collar. “i’m not so sure sir.”

“michael” he cuts off towards his security once more with an annoyed yet exhausted sigh. no matter how many times michael asks his staff to call him his actual name, they insist on being professional and calling him sir or mr. jackson.

and god how he hated those names with a burning desire.

“i could potentially find out.” michael’s eyes snap away from you and towards his security before giving him a quick nod.

he watched subtly as his security scavenge through the crowd of people, soon asking a few others that had talked to you and asking them who you were.

michael later catches him walk back with his hands firm inside his pockets. “she’s a dj sir. apparently for a few other musicians.”

michael nods at his words still looking at you from afar. your presence attracting him even more as he watches you climb over the bar top with a few men placing their hands on your ankles for “support”

yeah support bullshit.

he watches more attentively at the multiple men gawking over the sight over them. hands in your hair, top falling off your shoulders now letting your collarbone and complexion shine bare through the lights, and you dancing without a care in the world.

he KNEW he had to talk to you.

yet he didn’t know how, especially with the crowd of other celebrities around. he knew there wasn’t going to be any gossip or spill on what he would do tonight. especially considering it was mostly well known people here.

everyone swore to secrecy and signed nda’s to be able to even attend. nothing leaves the nightclub and nothing is spoke of outside of it.

“sir..?” his security interrupts as he watches michael now stand up before fixing his leather jacket and belt silently. “michael—“

he stops before looking back at his security. “i’ll be okay.”

and with that walks off towards where you were currently dancing at.

you laugh so loud as an older actor you’ve seen on your screen before touches your ankle and throws a small pack of cash near your heel.

“to support that little dj business of yours pretty face.” he shouts through the loud music as you lower yourself still over the bar table, soon grabbing his jaw with your fingers.

“beat it old man.” you snark as he rolls his eyes and unlatches his hands away from your body. your heel now pressing the cash pile he has thrown to prevent him from grabbing it, he walks off annoyed.

you were starting to get bored of this place. you would think rich people and celebrities have an actual soul or some sort of interest but my gosh how you were also so incredibly wrong.

you jump off the table before sitting in a barstool now placing the palms of your hands over the cold marble detailing.

sweat started to shine on your skin as your shirt now revealed your lace bra underneath without a care in the world. you were just breathless and tired.

“may i buy you a drink?” you hear a voice suddenly near your ear. immediately setting you off, you turn around to see someone hovering over.

“well look who we have here..” your gaze meets his as you tilt your head back to see him even better. michael jackson standing in-front of you with a look so firm on your own you couldn’t even focus on your surroundings.

just him and those dark eyes of his.

“well i see you know me” he leans on the table top before you straighten yourself better. “but i don’t know you” his lip now tuck between his teeth with a slow bite, you sense your skin once again heating up. “i’m sage” you reply instantly with your friends name as he slowly nods his head.

michael’s eyes follows from your eyes to your cheeks, later following the curve of your neck to your collarbone and the pretty pink lace bra peaking from underneath.

his legs shift a bit still standing as he felt himself tense up. his pants tightening at the casual semi-nudeness of yourself on display in a public setting like this.

“well sage…you do have a habit of being very loose don’t you?” your lips part at the shocking comment, not knowing what to say. “excuse you?”

michael laughs under his breath before leaning in to make sure you hear his every word. “dancing with those men touching over you like some sort of statue award. you like being an object of desires? reckless in public and showing off?”

michael never had such confidence then he did right now. maybe it was the fact he was on his 4th drink of the night. or maybe simply the fact that he hasn’t had any contact with any woman in over 7 months because of tour.

could also be the way your eyes suddenly flutter at him or the way you touch his hand laying on the marble. “wouldn’t you like to know, old man.” you play into a game as michael’s breath suddenly hitch at your comment.

old man. pfft please.

michael grabs your hand firmly before making your face come inches across his own. you could smell a minty fresh scent coming off of him as you slowly inhale.

out of all the celebrities you’ve met so far, you never would’ve have expected to come across him. especially being so natural at what he does or how obnoxiously hot he looked and good he smelt.

“you’re a messy problem.”

“then fix it.”

were the last few words you can slip out of your mouth before the next thing you knew your body is pushed upon the tile wall behind you.

the bathroom door instantly clicks locked as michael’s hands rummaged through your hips all the way towards your chest. one hand grasping onto your left tit as he nibbles and sucks on the nape of your neck.

“you’re so sweet.” he murmurs on your skin as you felt his teeth suddenly graze down. michael was focused on having you feel the immense pleasure you could get from him.

your hands go up towards his hair as you sink your fingers in between each curl. without clearly thinking and in a sudden daze, you scrunch your fingers soon pulling onto michael’s hair.

with a deep groan, you gasp out momentarily. “i-im sorry i—“

michael bites your nipple sending waves of shock to transcend down your entire body. you were feeling already in pure ecstasy, even with him just fondling with your tits and biting onto your skin—leaving wet kisses down every crevice he could find empty.

“do it again.” was the only thing he commanded before continuing to give you pleasure. your fingers scrunch up again pulling his hair as he continued to groan, soon letting some sighs and whimpers to pass those pretty lips of his.

michael was STARVING.

he could feel his hips buckle ever so slightly and shifting in his pants as he continued to move down and onto the floor— feeling his knees now drop on the cold nightclub ground.

you, on the other hand, were in utter shock at the sight of michael dropping to his knees and lifting your left leg up to place over his shoulder.

you see his eyes glance up between your legs before pulling down your mini shorts. matching pink lace panties now obscure his view from his meal as he pulls them to the side, now seeing your cunt glisten with your wetness.

“they’re pretty but i needed to see what im eating tonight.” he spoke as he looks at you. your chest rapidly moving as you feel your breathing turn uneven at the sight in-front of you.

without speaking another word, michael dives his head deeper between your legs before placing his lips over your clit. the sudden poke of his tongue flicks over as you suddenly gasp at the feeling.

he starts working his way over—letting his lips shine with your slickness as he pushes your leg over his shoulder higher. at this point you felt your knees slightly shake at both the height your leg was lifted and the feeling of michael’s tongue entering your pussy with downward movements to taste yourself in his mouth.

you couldn’t handle the sensation he was giving you as you place your palm over his forehead, slightly touching his curls to try to push his head back a bit.

only for michael instead to slap your hand away before backing up himself willingly and spitting over your entrance. his spit dripping down your pretty cunt as he lifts his fingers up and smoothes out the drop of spit over. you cry out as you whisper his name under your breath repeatedly.

“michael michael please just—it’s too much” you felt tears slightly sting your eyes as he laughs at you, still letting the pads of his fingers softly touch you. he was mesmerized at the woman he had over his face. your bold, loud, and reckless demeanor instantly changing to sensitive and erotic simply made michael want you even more.

“you can do it baby.” he praises now slipping one finger inside, making your back pull away from the wall and back over it immediately. “you can be a show off dirty girl in-front of other men. married men. older men.”

michael continues now slipping another finger inside and another one. each word slipping his lips, each finger added now creating immense feeling building up in your lower stomach. your mind was hazy and your mouth suddenly dry.

you didn’t care to speak anymore because you knew it wouldn’t get you no where. “isn’t that right dollface?” he asks as you just open your mouth to suddenly shut it once more.

the mix between praise and degradation just submerged you to the deep end as you then feel michael’s free hand lift to your hip and trace figures amongst your lace panty line.

“michael i’m—“ michael suddenly catches you off guard now dipping his head once more while 3 slender fingers pump in and out of your entrance.

his tongue forcing himself inside with his fingers moving while also licking over your clit, made you finally lose control. michael senses it as he pulls back and continues working with his fingers. hooking them up to hit your spot slightly as a tease.

he knew the affect he had on you and right now it was the most important and hottest thing he’s ever done or seen the last few months of his life.

“let go for me baby. cmon..” your eyes shut as your head slides back in pleasure. “cum on my fingers you dirty doll.”

michael continues knowing he’s getting to you. closer and closer. his fingers still moving non-stop now hitting you in the perfect spot sending you to collide.

“think about me breeding that pretty pussy of yours. show me the preview of what i get.”

“oh god michael— yes!” you raise your voice at the thought of him deep inside of you. especially leaving his trace deep behind your pussy.

the idea of his cum leaking out in full display, the pressure of his cock deep in you, and the current feeling of his fingers pumping sends you over the edge as you gasp.

before you knew it, both your hands now come in contact with michael’s head as you release yourself over him.

his lips now going back as he places your pussy full down to come in contact with his face. michael grips your thigh before going to grip your hips as he suddenly rocks your lower body back and forth.

michael was letting you semi-ride his face as you give him more.

as the bathroom soon settles down into silence from your release, michael gently places your leg back down to the ground before holding your leg upright to prevent you from falling.

your knees were buckling as your legs were sore. you could barely even stand up if it weren’t for the fact that michael’s hands were holding you straight.

he pulls himself back up as your eyes go down to see the tightness in his pants. his growing bulge slightly poking out as he rubs his palm over the material.

“not so loud and proud after that right?” you roll your eyes before playfully giving him a smack on his shoulder. he laughs letting you hear his gentle chuckle as your heart beats at the sound.

“i know nothing is meant to leave the place but leave with me?” michael wasn’t asking. he was pretty much PLEADING.

you lean up to gently place your lips over his. your taste still lingering on his mouth as he uses his tongue to deepen the kiss even more. your tongues both intertwine as you give his a soft bite soon hearing him whimper and push himself closer to your body again, now parting away from your mouth.

“well i’d love to mr. jackson.”

michael playfully smiles hearing the name. at that moment he didn’t hate it as much as he normally did. maybe your soft voice and that look of your eyes made him go stupid. because the sound of that name leaving your mouth only made him more harder than he was before.

his hand grasps yours as he pulls the lock away from the door. soon opening the door to come across more people flooding the nightclub floor. suddenly you force michael to turn back around to face you.

“and it’s y/n! not sage btw.” michael stops before giving you a soft smile at the sudden truthfulness.

he knew you already had lied about who you were. the name you had given him was the same name and credentials the dj he met a few parties ago had.

he just didn’t have the time or headspace to ruin that little secret moment of yours.

“then y/n baby let’s go.” pulling you back near him you both soon begin heading out, hands still holding onto each-other tightly through the packed crowd.

you soon left everything behind— excluding the future you both carried outside the nightclub together afterwards.

oooo jealous michael i lovvveee !!!! hope you enjoy angel ଘ( ᴗ͈ ᴗ͈)ഒ (sorry for making everyone who requested wait so long > < feel free to request more since i'm all done with my final exams !!! ＼(^o^)／

jealous michael (hehe)

michael’s pool day and sleep over gets chaotic when he sees his brothers flirting with you and suddenly gets way too jealous to hide it. off the wall michael x fem!reader

(18+, pwp, dangerous era) 𓈒 ݁ ݂ husband!michael who loves to take you outside at neverland, setting up a cute and innocent picnic on the dewy grass just for the two of you. the night sky full of bright and glimmering stars, the both of you laying down with your fingers interlocked. but little did either of you know just how much innocent romance could spiral into a sensual situation. it was like you had blinked, and suddenly michael was on top of you, lips roaming your body.

"didn't know the stars could be such a good aphrodisiac." michael murmured between kisses. "then again, i do have the privilege of getting to be alone with the most gorgeous girl in the world.. which turns me on itself." he smiled against your skin saying those last few words, the two of you giggling in unison.

"i love you, michael." you carried his face to match in position with yours, kissing him before he could even let out a single word. michael pulled away almost instantly, leaving you with a large frown plastered on your face.

"ah ah ah, pretty. didn't even let me reply now, did we?" he leaned in a bit closer, his hot breath sliding against your lips and nostrils. "i love you more, baby," he leaned even closer, your lips practically inches away from touching. "need my girl to know how much i love her, yeah? let me treat you right, gorgeous."

and he sure kept his goddamn word. he slowly pulled down both of your bottoms—not fully off, but just enough room so he could work his magic. your jean shorts lay on your ankles, as did the slacks he decided to wear. you both pulled out the "essentials" and stared longingly into each other's eyes.

"you make me the happiest man on the planet, d'ya know that?" he cleared his throat, "if i could make love to you everyday, i would. i'd take my sweet time with you each and every time, god."

you swallowed hard, bracing yourself for what was yet to come. michael placed one more elongated kiss on your lips, breaking apart to smile at you. he looked down, positioning himself right along your slick folds.

he looked back up at your gorgeous face, watching your expression as he slowly slid himself into you, deliciously filling up your walls. your sweet smile turning into furrowed brows and a whining mouth. he loved hearing your sounds, never kissing your mouth during sex, oh no. he loved to kiss other areas such as your neck, your cheek—sometimes he would even bring up your wrist just so he could leave a nice smooch.

he held a firm grip on your waist, his lips laying on your temple as he passionately and precisely pumped in and out of you. your arms wrapped around his slim back, the fabric of his shirt feeling extra soft against your fingertips. your eyes had no area of michael to look at, so your gaze fixated on the view you two shared before this moment, the beautiful sky.

"wish we could be like this all the time..shit—your pretty pussy wrapped around me like a glove, like you were curated perfectly just for me, oh god yes." his pace of strokes increasing, sloppily and desperately groaning aloud. "fuuuck.."

your legs spread slightly more open, allowing michael to push himself deeper and further towards your core. he sped up even faster, his low groans turning into needy whines. you weren't much better either, your loud moans and squeals being shoved down michael's ear, fueling him even further to finish quickly.

michael could never last insanely long with you during romantic nights like this, but it wasn't embarrassing or disappointing. he just felt so aroused and insane about your beauty and your body, his body would just give in too fast from the pleasure.

michael's eyes began to water, a normal sign showing he was going to finish off soon. he lifted his head to stare at you once more, your pussy becoming a nervous and sensitive mess as he sped up for the last time.

"so gorgeous, so pretty. 'gonna make you a mommy one day, a stunning mommy.." he whined, his voice cracking slightly.

tears streamed down his cheeks as he pumped his cock a final time inside your pussy, coating your walls with his warm release. you came as well, your bodies almost intertwining spiritually with the mutual finish.

michael wiped his tears, kissing your lips while he pulled out slowly, your hips jerking from the sensitivity.

"you make me complete." he smiled with wet eyes, staring at your fucked-out body and expression. "i love being your husband."