michael was definitely the kind of person who would just admire what you have down there he wouldn’t want you to do some fancy wax treatment or anything he would want you just for you. don’t even get me started on if you had a long day and he would want a taste and you were hesitant because you wanted to be fresh for him but he ever cared he just wanted you raw, bare and vulnerable. whenever he’d be between your legs he would kiss up your thighs and no matter what size they were he’d always give them a light squeeze and admire them. before he’d take your panties off he’d teasingly kiss and run his nose down your center making you squirm and ride the bump of his nose. he’ll take them off once you protest to stop teasing and once he sees your pretty flower just dripping all for him he’ll moan at the sight “so pretty and ripe” and he’ll use his thumb to run through your folds and clit and get to work leaving you a moaning mess as he eats you like a ripe papaya on a hot summer day. talking you through your orgasm, and once you let go for him he whispers a “thank you” and licks every inch left of your essence even if it got on the sheets he’s sucking it off as he just believes you’re the most delicious thing he’s ever tasted he kissing up your body and eventually your lips and as you taste yourself on him and pulls away say “thanks for dinner baby i’m stuffed”.
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𝔂ou were wearing a dark-wash jean skirt, a white tank top, and a denim jacket you stole from michael.
it was a plain outfit that you didn’t put much thought into. you grabbed the first few items hanging up in your closet and made them work together.
however, that wasn’t how michael saw it. he kept thinking about how short your skirt was—how he’d be able to catch a glimpse of your panties if you did so much as bend over. how your skirt was so short, yet it kept your backside completely covered.
you had invited him over a few days prior with the promise of “nobody will be home.” that was more than enough to get him to come over. you knew he’d have no other obligations on a friday evening, so it was the optimal day for him to visit you.
michael’s adorned in a white wife-beater and dark-wash jeans when he shows up to your house. you lean against the doorframe, eyes raking up and down his figure before letting him in.
“hey, mikey,” you greeted him as you open your door wider, an invitation for him to come in.
“hey, baby.”
the next hour is spent catching up, indulging in meaningless conversation, and making plans for the next time you’d see each other. time moves without you realizing.
however, michael does notice you. specifically, your skirt.
“you look good, mama.”
“thanks, mikey.”
you don’t notice his eyes ogling your legs, especially where your skirt ends. even if you do, you don’t acknowledge it.
his wife-beater and your jean skirt were now on the floor.
michael was pushing your legs open, his palms on your inner thighs. he was kneeling between them, low. his tongue ran a tentative strip up your clit.
he was slow, but certain. he didn’t stop when you squirmed or when you tried to close your legs from where he was holding them open.
“mikey—want more,” you pleaded, and he didn’t respond for a long moment. instead, he looks at you, eyes foggy as if he knows he should be listening to you.
“yeah, baby?”
“‘s not enough, mikey,” you whine.
both of his hands tighten around your thighs. then, it’s the flat of his tongue against you. the tip circles you—a small movement, but it’s enough to have you moaning into the open room.
his hands push your thighs even further apart. his tongue was dipping in and out of you, circling and lapping with his nose brushing against your skin. you felt incredible. otherworldly, actually.
you’re both sweating, but you don’t bother to wipe it off because you’ll both be a mess of fluids by the time michael’s done.
He looks so juicy in these pics omg I saw these on twt and they been on my mind nonstop. Like just imagine getting a hug from him, you can feel the thickness of his back through his layers. His arms strong arms circle around you while you rest your head on his chest. His big hands completely covering your lower back. What’s in his pants is probably just as thick.
⁀➴ michael needs a break from the chaos of rehearsals and the jackson’s next album for one night.
⁀➴ pre-otw! mike! x gf! reader
⁀➴ fluff || young love || use of baby + mikey || super short!
The city lights passed by in flashing colors as you drove in your convertible, Michael seemingly content with an underlying tightness in his shoulders. The cold air kissed your skin as the wind ripped through your curls, catching onto your eyelashes. The streets were quiet, neon lights flickering on convenience stores as loose strings of people walk down the sidewalk.
The quiet city life and low him of your ___ cassette tape filled the silence between you both, yet the sound of Michael’s twiddling thumbs or fiddling with his clothes overlapped. He was nervous. You could tell— the way his big hands skated across his pants or his lip caught between his teeth— like he wanted to say something but couldn’t get the words out.
“I’m sorry I brought you into this,” he said quietly after spending the last 5 minutes chewing on his bottom lip.
Michael felt guilty for calling you at the dead of night— waking you up, rambling about his stressful day with Joe and his brothers, then shyly requesting to see you. Of course he had his privileges with— he could show up to your house in the middle of the night for all you care. Hell—he could even join you in bed and you’d just make room for him, melting into his warmth. Yet with you everytime feels like the first— and he doesn’t want to mess anything up.
But the heart wants what the heart wants. And you made sure to give it to him.
He deserves the world, and you’re a strong believer in that.
“Michael,” you approached softly, the red stoplight shone onto your faces, “I want this. I want to be with you, and whatever you need, I’ll be there. I’m always here for you.” You grab his hand that was picking on the lint of his bottoms and intertwined it with yours.
Michael was a blushing fool, throwing his chin over his shoulder before looking back to you. “Thank you… I really appreciate that— you, I really appreciate you—“
You pecked his lips, then each of his knuckles before pushing the gas and driving off, one hand on the steering wheel as your intertwined one rested on his lap. Your wheels climbed up the hilltop to The Spot (you both called it) aka a grassy hilltop that resided behind a few trees. It had an incredible view of the valley and the rest of LA below you beating with a hushed pulse, bathed in the moonlight.
You two settled onto the grassy hill, a soft, plaid blanket laid onto the grass. You two always brung music, but never actually played anything. The sound of each other— even the presence was all you needed.
Michael laid atop you, his cheek smooshed into your chest as your fingers twirled in his hair, his fingers finding your own. He inhaled you deeply like a man taking a deep, needed drag from a cigarette. Slowly Michael felt his limbs loosen, his body melding into yours as if you’re trying to form into one. The earth settled into a slower spin, the summer night wrapping around you both in a warm embrace.
This was better than any amount of sleep you could’ve gotten.
He lifted his head and his chin rested on your sternum. No words were needed. Just you. He ogled at the stars swimming in your eyes, his thumb reverently tracing your eyebrow. A few I love you’s and needed this were swallowed into the hazy clouds of adoration that threatened to swallow you both while.
After parting, your foreheads rested atop another. You caught each other’s eyes and grinned like lovesick fools— which you were. You and Michael allowed the night sky to blanket you as the city unfolded beneath you.
Safe to say, Michael didn’t give a shit about no rehearsals right now.
ya'll need to genuinely grow the fuck up. are we serious right now?? doxxing maddie simply because you think what? that you have a chance to get in jaafar's pants?? wake up. wake the fuck up. this grown ass man can make his own decisions, and i'm pretty sure 10+ years is plenty of time to figure out you're dating a zionist. it's his choice. & bringing her physical appearance into the mix just makes you look even more pathetic. i can get by snarky comments about her beliefs or ideals but i do not stand with blatant bullying. the parasocialism has definitely gotten to ya'lls brains because wtf do you mean you sat there with a straight face asking disgusting questions to this girl about her fiance. JAAFAR DOES NOT WANT YOU. JERMAJESTY DOES NOT WANT YOU. RANDY JR DOES NOT WANT YOU. YOU DON'T EXIST TO THEM. stop acting like you all suddenly have control over this man's love life simply because you yourself want to get some action. grow. up. everyday i gotta come on this app and see all you guys hate on this interracial couple simply because 1) it's interracial & 2) because it isn't you. well boohoo bitch. get up out of bed and do something with yourself.
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— SUMMARY: Michael oozes sex appeal without even trying. He’s the world’s biggest sex symbol, he dances like someone that puts women through mattresses, and his songs are filled with longing to make sweet love to women. So, why won’t he fuck you?
— WARNINGS: sub!michael, objectification/perversion, voyeurism, dacryphila, slight somnophilia, inspection kink, accidental edging, overstimulation, pain kink, face sitting, oral (f receiving), unprotected p in v, aggressive sex, mike is pussy drunk, soft dom!reader, cockwarming, aftercare (finally!), fluff. not proofread (yet)!
— WC: 7k (I really don’t know how to shut up…)
— A/N: Based off a prompt from this poll. Yeah, it’s gon get real nasty in here. Also, imagine the biggest L-shaped couch in existence. It’ll make a lot more sense that way, trust me. Please like, comment and reblog. Thank you all so much for 300 followers!
It was getting ridiculous. 10 and a half months of tension and torture. You were getting so desperate, you started feeling like a hormone-driven, college-aged man.
Seriously, you were objectifying Michael’s every action like some pervert. The way his tongue swirled around his lips after they’d gotten a little dry. Putting on lipgloss just to ‘share some’ with him. Purposely asking him to play his grand piano so that you could watch his fingers work over every tooth. Even objectifying the soft sighs of content he’d make in his sleep.
Your body was aching for his touch.
It all came to a head after you watched your tape of Michael’s Dirty Diana performance in Wembley. Michael had his team take personal videos for you since you couldn’t make it due to work obligations. He was going over the videos with you in your house’s upstairs loft, excitedly gauging your every reaction to the show he put on.
I imagined you standing right on stage with me in this one, he’d told you, handing you the copy so you could put it into the VCR.
As you watched it, you couldn’t help but focus on every detail. He looked so desperate and sang so sensually. Naturally, it turned you on, especially since you’ve been so hungry for him for so long. You were squirming with every thrust, leaking through every hungry whine that seeped past his lips. After the video stopped, your panties were embarrassingly soaked.
He stared at you expectantly and finally cleared his throat after you sat there eyes wide and silent for 4 whole minutes.
“Michael,” you said evenly, voice coming out smoother than you felt.
“Did you like it?” he asked, aching for your approval.
“Like? Mike my panties are soaked,” you admitted with a longing sigh. You were edging over the precipice of insanity.
“O-oh…?” he responded bashfully, not sure how to insert his commentary into this topic.
Admittedly, Michael was insane about you. He kept up a good front when needed, but there were so many times he almost fully let himself go for you. The time you made brownies together and he purposely swiped his index finger around the remnants inside the mixing bowl, presenting his finger so that he could feel your tongue and cheeks suck around his skin. Or, the time you’d left your shared bathroom door slightly ajar, him eagerly peeking in while he watched you clean your sex precisely, his mouth going dry at the sight of your delicate fingers touching your glistening pussy.
He even got turned on by you crying after the two of you watched a particularly devastating romantic movie. The sight of your eyebrows scrunching together was reminiscent of the few times you’d let your makeout sessions turn into heavy petting and your face would mold into the same look when his hardened length desperately ground against your pajama-clad clit.
Still, your admission left him flustered. You broke the silence.
“Why won’t you fuck me?” you asked him, eyes pleading pathetically for his answer.
“Pardon?” he asked, taken aback by the direct question.
“I said,” you inched closer to him on the couch, hand creeping onto his, “Why don’t you fuck me?”
“I-i want…I will…I think about it?” his confession turning into a question as he started losing himself at the feeling of your fingers atop of his. He composed himself and started over.
“It’s just…I want to learn you. I sing all these songs about sexual pleasure and desire, but I feel like a poser. I wanna learn your body. I want to know what exactly makes you squirm, what touches bring you over the edge. Most importantly, I wanna please you. Above anything, I want your pleasure to be put before mine. I want to give you everything before I let you take all of me. Before I make love to you.”
His words stunned you. Obviously, Michael was the most romantic and compassionate person ever, but an insecure part of your brain had convinced you he just didn’t want it. He didn’t want you in that way.
“Oh. Yeah, that makes sense.” You were embarrassed now. Your eyes started brimming with tears, embarrassment flooding over you for ruining the moment.
“Hey, what’s the matter, baby? C’mere. Why’d you ask me that?” he asked you, his slender form slinking closer to yours, engulfing you into a tender hug. He ignored the arousal threatening to bubble through his actions at the sight of your tear clad face.
You hurriedly wiped the tears that were desperately inching to slip from your eyes.
“I dunno. I just thought you didn’t want me in that way. You always stop anything before we can let it get too far. You even cover your eyes when I get naked in front of you.” You let out an airy laugh at the thought. He slightly leaned his body away from yours, capturing your face in his gigantic hands.
“Of course I want you in that way. Didn’t you see my performance? I basically begged for your body up there. I guess I just suck at asking for it.” He scratched the back of his neck, the realization of his lack of direct communication now weighing on him.
“Then do it,” you demanded, the need in your voice almost turning it into pleading. “Ask for it. Beg. Show me you want me.”
He expression turned serious, eager to please you.
“I will.” It was a promise, leaving no room for questions or confusion. Immediately, the weight in the air turned from confusion and insecurity to unbridled lust and determination. He was gonna learn you the way he described.
Faster than you could protest- not that you would- he adjusted your positions. He gently leaned your back onto the enormous, expensive black couch and positioned both of his legs on either side of your torso.
“I’m gonna kiss you first. But please, tell me everything you like. Tell me what you want. I’m going to give everything to you,” he stated, and he leaned in for the kiss.
It was explorative and wandering, his tongue prodding here and there with unspoken questions of your desires. He’d bite your lip, pocketing away your reaction as if he were studying it for a test. When he started sucking your tongue, a loud grumble settled deeply in your chest, and he responded with a groan, pleased with his findings. You were nasty, like him. He liked that.
His kisses escaped your encapsulating lips and immediately found their way to your ear. This was something he was curious about. He parted his mouth and gave your lobe a curious graze, looking up at you from under his long lashes. Your back arched infinitesimally as you let out the quietest whine known to humanity. He dove back in and bit harsher, and you whimpered desperately.
“Hmm,” he noted to himself.
His lips and tongue explored your neck next, eager to have an excuse to mark you through in his study of your body. He was fully committed to his research, obsessively sucking and biting the supple skin of your neck as he cradled the side of it in a vampire-esque way. The way you gasped and groaned whenever he sucked harsher bruises into your skin was magnetic. His mind was driven to please.
He continued his journey to your tits, the sight of them short circuiting his brain momentarily. He removed his mouth from the swell of them and groped them greedily, his palms pressing deliciously against your braless nipples through the fabric. He wet his lips at the erotic sight of you. You looked up at him, a silent plea in your eyes for more, and he curled his fingers around the neckline of your tank top.
“Do you want-” Michael began.
“Take it off. Want your mouth on my nipples,” you instructed. You sat up as he followed your command instantly, his hands removing your shirt with precision.
You didn’t know how much you needed this. The moment his lips met your erect nipples, your brain seized with an electric jolt of pleasure.
“Mmm,” you sighed, basking in the pleasure and heat. He was sucking at your breast like he was thirsty, every twitch from your body giving him encouragement. He tried your other breast and you reacted even more so.
“This one’s more sensitive.” It wasn’t a question, it was a statement. He was still researching your body.
“Y-yeah- shit,” you let out an expletive at the feeling of his tongue flicking up and down on the sensitive nub, and you could sense a teasing demeanor slip through his ministrations. You grabbed onto his head and aggressively mashed it against the plush area, eliciting a whimper from him. Your dominance turned him on.
He popped off after your grip on his head loosened. His body slithered down your own like a serpent, sliding down in a way so fluid you would’ve applauded if not for the situation you were currently in.
Then, he just stared at you. Your hair was in a disarray and your nipples were wet and hard. You had the evidence of his possessiveness littered all over your neck and collarbones. To top it off, you were whimpering and panting underneath him. He absolutely adored you like this.
He grew a little more confident, testing your limits here. He had a sneaking suspicion you were into something else. Experimenting with this theory, he ran his hands up and down your torso, preparing for his surprise. Then, you felt a hypnotic jolt of pleasured pain shoot up your spine and let out a cry.
He’d pinched both of your nipples. Hard. After seeing your reaction, he did it again, testing how much harder he could go.
You were an absolute mess. You couldn’t even speak, just letting out whines of approval.
Michael just kept watching.
He dragged his nails up and down your body, starting from the dips in your collarbones to the tops of your knees. It was exhilarating. Particularly, his hand being so close to your neck. You grabbed for it a bit when he was dragging his hands down, but he misread that as you wanting him to go lower. You decided you’d bring it up later.
“Can I take your jeans off and you turn around, please?” he questioned you, an idea evident behind his dark eyes.
You obliged suspiciously, throwing your bottoms on the stack of tapes you’d watched earlier.
As soon as you settled comfortably onto your stomach, Michael lowered his body onto your thighs and slapped your ass so hard that you felt stars. You immediately arched up into his touch, the movement causing his crotch to rub against the back of your thighs. You both moaned out- you lewdly, him embarrassed- at the contact. He rubbed the sensitive area pervertedly, gripping onto your cheek in an unintentionally obvious way.
“S-so you like pain.” Again, not a question, but a note he was taking on this crash course of your desires.
“Mm- yeah i love it,“ you revealed in a tone Michael had never heard you use before. He’d already started making you feel so far gone and he hadn’t even traveled to where you wanted him most.
“Oh god,” he whispered to himself. You heard it, though.
“What?” you asked through ragged breathing, craning your neck the best you could to see his face.
“Keep talking like that, please. I’m into it.” He closed his eyes slightly and rocked his hips onto your thighs subconsciously as the tone of your voice echoed in his brain.
“Hit me again, Mikey. I want it.” You sounded like a pornstar. The tone in your voice was stuck between being full on moans and needy whines.
He obeyed without second thought, his eager eyes watching as the skin under his large hand recoiled and got darker.
“F-uck!” you hiccuped out. You felt tears stinging your eyes at the sensation. The pain was so fucking good. You could feel your pussy glue to your panties from all of the arousal drooling from it.
You arched your ass up higher now, your body craving for more of him. You wanted him everywhere.
He let out a little yelp at the sensation, but then his eyes got distracted.
You were wet. Really, really wet.
Without thought, his hand fluttered straight to the spot on your panties, running over it once so he could feel the stickiness on his fingers.
“Can I please take your underwear off? I wanna look at you,” he asked with patheticism in his voice.
You lifted your ass up higher and let out an ‘mhm’ giving him the okay to slide them off for you.
As he dragged them off your feet, he got off of your body and gently pushed you forward a little more.
“Can I have you stay exactly the way you are, but just on your knees?”
You obliged, leaving your head and torso against the couch while your ass went higher into the air, like you were gonna take him from behind. The image made you clench longingly. He caught that movement immediately.
Then, he sat on his knees right behind you, positioning his face right in front of your core. He leaned in and fanned his hot breath over it, watching you flinch and clench again. He took his middle finger and ran it up and down your folds annoyingly slow. His finger went inside of you just barely, testing how tight it was and teasing you by rolling it around slowly. He pulled out and sucked loudly on his finger for you to hear. Your hole leaked a clear, slick liquid.
He moaned at the flavor, tattooing it to his memory, before he took that same finger and rubbed it into your clit with a feather-like touch.
He knew you wanted more, and he wanted to give it to you, but God, the way your pussy reacted to everything was so captivating. He could watch it clench and leak forever. He dragged his finger back toward your entrance and spread you open with it, inspecting every ridge and fold that his eyes could register. His mouth watered.
You let out a soft whimper when his finger probed your hole again, your resolve weakening.
“Michael stop fuckin’ teasin’ me,” you whined.
“I’m sorry baby, you just look so pretty down there,” he responded, slipping his digit inside immediately. The way you clenched around it was like ecstasy.
“Yeah! Mmm, Mike. Go in ‘n out fast ‘n c-curl your finger up when it’s inside. I- ahh- like it rough.”
You liked it rough. Those were a the words that influenced the rest of his actions for the night.
He added his index finger and pistoned them into you harshly, letting your moans fill up his ears and be his driving force.
“Like that, baby! Fuck! F-feels so fucking good,” you mewled.
He leaned down and slightly nipped your ass cheek, eager to see you squirm and feel your hungry pussy suck his fingers deeper inside.
You shrieked and pushed your ass back father, your walls closing in against his digits. It was getting harder and harder to move inside you.
“You have to relax, love,” he coaxed you gently.
“Ngh- j-just feels too good,” you babbled out. Your brain was making it feel like every nerve of your body was receiving a sensual kiss. You could barely think. Then his tongue was on you.
He latched onto your clit with perfect accuracy and started sucking cautiously, knowing the area was particularly sensitive. Your legs spasmed and you got up onto your hands, needing some grounding. You moaned out his name and the sound hit him like a symphony, encouraging him further.
“Mmm, Michael. You’re so good. Perfect, feels perfect.” you praised him, unable to say proper sentences.
He hummed against you, still keeping up that aggressively brutal pace with his fingers, and you started to see white.
“Ohhh my- I’m s-so close!” you called out, feeling the all too familiar whisper of release heightening your senses and settling into your abdomen.
He sat back, his chin covered with your essence, and set his pace with his fingers faster. Then, he stopped and pulled them out hurriedly.
“I wanna see you. Can you look at me while you cum?” he asked as he slid directly under shaking body, your dripping pussy directly above his face. He pulled you strongly by your thighs, settled you onto his mouth, and continued feasting. His eyes trailed from your beautiful breasts right up to your contorted face, and he moaned loudly at the sight.
You sat up, feeling your orgasm approach again, and rode his mouth and nose for dear life, grabbing one of Michael’s hands to play with your nipple. You watched his face as you ground back and forth.
You looked too good to be true. He got lost in the meal and lightly grazed your clit with his teeth, wanting to learn just how rough he was allowed to get.
Your legs suddenly locked up and you buried his nose deep into your pelvis, blocking all of his air. Then, he felt it.
Your eyes rolled up and your hand gripped from his and slotted into his hair and you let out the most broken moan imaginable. Your warm, sticky release soaked the entire bottom half of his face.
“F- OH!” was all you could say as it dawned on you.
Michael couldn’t breathe, but he didn’t want to. He lapped at you through the whole thing, his vision blacking out as he lost air. You leaned forward and collapsed your body right above his head, having enough sense to remember to let him breathe. Again, Michael didn’t want to.
He got a fierce hold on your spent body and sat you right back on top of him, wanting more of your juices. He would happily pass out over and over from you suffocating him with your pussy if it were up to him.
“Not done yet,” he stated as he dove back in, this time groping your ass and pulling you onto him by it. He shoved his nose forward, fiercely taking his air away, while looking up at you like you were treasure.
“Mike! S’ too m-much.” You started sobbing above him, the pleasure overwhelming you. A tear spilled over your cheek and landed on his forehead. Yet, you secretly didn’t want him to stop. The fire in his eyes to please you was intense and infectious.
Michael ignored your words, eyes glazing over at the sight of your pleasure evident tears, as he started losing oxygen again. He moved his nose away and inhaled the air desperately, ready to lose it all again.
Unbeknownst to him, your second orgasm was running toward you at full speed, not giving you enough time to prepare for it. You choked out a glorious sob of his name and jerked your hips up, the tip of his nose sitting proudly under your clit.
Underneath you, he was smiling like a lunatic
You slid down and laid atop of his body, catching your breath for the second time, after not even really catching it the first.
He looked down at you on his chest, worried he’d pushed you too far.
You could feel his loaded gaze on you.
“Not done. Just need to catch my breath,” you said as you looked up and gave him a lazy smile.
It took his breath away. You looked ruined. Your eyes were red and wet with tears, your hair was a mess, the hickeys and scratches on your skin were darker. And you were drooling.
“You’re breathtaking,” he told you with a genuine gasp.
“So are you,” you complimented. He looked just as fucked out as you did, and he wasn’t even getting touched.
“I need you. I want you inside of me, and I want you to fuck me senseless. Give it to me,” you remarked, not caring to catch your breath anymore.
Your hand traveled to his belt and worked it open without waiting for a response. You unzipped his pants, and then looked back up at him.
“Take these off. And your shirt,” you ordered him bluntly. His cock throbbed ravenously at your dominance.
“Yes. O-okay,” he said as he gently slid from beneath you and followed your orders, throwing his clothes right on top of yours.
You licked your lips at the art in front of you, his beauty something you swore was inhuman.
You lips meet his hungrily as you carefully laid back on the couch, mimicking your earlier position. You pulled him between your parted legs and flush against your chest, gently rocking back and forth with his heavy length going between your clit and stomach. You felt his precum dribble right above your pelvis as he let out a broken whine. You broke away from the kiss.
“I need you inside Michael,” you said, dangerously close to begging him.
He sat up and grabbed your face between his large palms, his eyes giving you a serious look.
“I love you so much, my pretty girl. You tell me if it hurts or if you get uncomfortable or wanna stop, okay? And tell me when it feels good, please,” he asked you passionately.
“I will,” you declared, your heart softening at the depth behind his words.
He positioned his leaking length between your folds and grazed his tip against your clit, teasing himself in the process. You bucked your hips up with a huff. Michael grabbed you by them, leaned forward to kiss you, and pushed himself in at the same time.
You both moaned against each other’s mouths, and Michael stopped halfway, resting his forehead against yours. The tightness of your pussy was dangerous. The length and girth of his dick was too.
He was fucking huge. His dick was splitting you open hungrily and you were clenching around him like you craved it all.
“Holy shit, you’re huge. Oh my, fuck. Put it all in,” you demanded and you pulled him forward needily.
You’d never felt so filled in your life. You could see him in your cervix, feel him in your veins, and even taste him on your tongue.
Michael was also absolutely losing it. He never knew sex could feel this good. You guys hadn’t even started properly making love yet, but he felt incredible. Your walls were basically choking his dick. Each clench you gave him was like a vice. His instincts took over and he started thrusting into you hungrily.
The sounds that left your mouth were downright sinful. If he didn’t know any better, he’d think you were faking your moans. They sounded like cascades of love, and very pornographic.
“Michael, oh my god. Yes!” He found your g-spot. “Right there! Fuck me harder!” you exclaimed. Then, you remembered something. “Ch-choke me. Baby- shit. Choke me Michael.”
“Yes ma- ahh- hmm. Yes, baby.” He was fucking you senseless. He watched as your eyes rolled back and your tongue lolled out of your bruised, plump lips and he went deeper and gripped your neck. You were losing yourself in the pleasure he was giving you, and that’s exactly what he wanted.
“B-baby. Look at me please. Wanna see you,” he said desperately, craving the approval from your eyes. He moved your head by your neck to look at him, and your eyes traveled back his face. Your gummy walls clenched around his engulfing dick at the sight of him. He was fully crying, the tip of his nose turning red.
“Oh, Michael. You’re heavenly,” you praised him causing him to shyly duck his head. You thrusted your hand up and forced his face up by his cheeks, squeezing them ferociously.
“I wanna see your expressions too, angel face. L-look how good you’re fucking me.” You pulled his face down to look at where the two of you became one, and directed his face back to yours, pulling him in for a sloppy kiss.
You were losing yourself in the feeling of it all, already being so overstimulated from earlier, and you felt your third orgasm of the night approach you. You tried pushing away for a second to warn him, but Michael’s lips chased yours instantly. He was completely gone.
You opted for using your free hand to reach down and circle your abused clit to take you over the edge. The doubled friction was so good, it only took a few harsh rubs, and you were gone.
As you came, your body went completely limp under his, your legs flattened on the coach cushions and your hand dropped from his now sore cheeks.
He kept going, even as you came down. This man was completely lost inside of you, and he was moving in a way that suggested he didn’t wanna be found.
“Mikeyyy,” you moaned out at him, the sensitivity numbing your brain too much to finish your thought.
He didn’t listen to your protest, or couldn’t. He just wanted you to keep feeling good, and the way you continuously sucked him in showed him you were still enjoying it. He felt so good, but he didn’t want to let go. He displayed his strongest act of willpower, edging himself over and over with each one of your orgasms. He almost came when he fingered you, when ate you out, hell, even when you told him to take his clothes off.
He slowed down a bit, learning every ridge inside of you and committing it to memory. He savored the slower pace as well, burying himself to the hilt and holding his dick deep in you after each stroke.
You could practically taste heaven on your tongue.
His curly hair was stuck to his forehead and he was giving you the biggest puppy-dog eyes you’d ever seen on a human.
You could feel yet another orgasm coming, this one coming in like a thunderclap before lightning; you could sense it with enough time before it happened to warn him.
“Mik-ey. G’na cum again.” You turned your head and kissed the inside of his wrist next to you.
“Please. Please cum again, pretty. I wanna feel it again,” he pleaded. He leaned down closer to you, his whimpers falling into your ears while he thrust harder and harder, drinking up the bliss painted on your face.
You came around him with a heartbreaking whine, your bottom lip jutting into a full on pout and your chest heaving with sobs. You’ve never felt so good in your life.
He slowed down a bit more, albeit not coming to a full stop, and wiped your tears with one hand.
“P-please one more, doll. Please. I’ll cum with you this time. Jus’ need one more. Need you to cum on- ngh- on me again.
At the realization that yes, he hadn’t cum at all, your pussy throbbed at his act of service. He was physically holding himself back just to ruin you like you told him to. He was such a good listener.
“Oh, my sweet boy,” you cooed at him reaching up to grip your fingers into his hair. “Take another one from m-me. I can handle it,” you stated, determination creeping into your voice.
He let out a beautifully tragic whimper at your demand, and picked up his pace. He lifted himself up and propped one of your legs onto his shoulder, determined to get you there as soon as possible.
It was like a new hunger bubbled up inside of you. Your body was still aching with sensitivity, but it was as if you still hadn’t been touched. The aggression in his moves had you seeing God.
“I wanna get on top,” you let out before you could even think. Your lips were moving faster than your brain had time to filter your thoughts.
“God damn,” he responded at your declaration. He flipped your bodies over expertly and held your waist in anticipation. You looked him in the eyes and placed your hand into his neck to steady yourself.
He let out a choked moan at the contact looking up at you in shock.
“Can you squeeze my neck, please? Please choke me,” he begged, his mouth parted desperately.
You gave it a rough squeeze and you took his ginormous dick inside of you. The dual pleasure was pushing him to the edge. He rolled his eyes back and smiled like he was on psychedelics, the lack of air making everything feel like ecstasy.
You released his neck slightly, giving him room to breathe, as you started bouncing up and down, your tits bobbing seductively above his face as you did so. You dragged your free hand up to your tits, holding them under your arm to stop the harsh drag of them. That only made it worse for him. The roundness of them became more prominent with the strain of your arm.
You looked back down at him with your eyebrows knitted and your eyes lowered with lust. You reached back down and kissed him intimately, squeezing his neck tightly and opening your eyes to take in his expression. He looked like lust personified. Then, you felt it coming and you broke the kiss. You removed your hand from his neck and lightly smacked his cheek, signaling him to look at you.
“G’na cream that big dick of yours M-Mikey. You gotta cum with me. ‘M so…I’m g…I- FUCK!”
This orgasm tore through you like a tsunami, crashing over and over in brutal waves.
Michael came as soon as the first clench came from your pussy. He cried out the prettiest moan you’d ever heard, the sound rivaling his singing vocals.
“Please, please, please, thank you. Y-yes! GOD, oh, thank you, I love you,” was all he could say between sobs.
You collapsed on top of him and caught your breath, letting his dick soften up inside you. After a moment, you pulled him out of you and felt both of your releases spill onto the couch. Michael could feel some of it slide down his own dick and he whined at the feeling. He was that sensitive.
“My god Michael, you’re insane,” you said, breaking the silence.
He let out a breathy laugh.
“Only for you,” he responded, looking at you with lazy eyes.
“Yeah, you better,” you said only half joking, your hand coming up to his face to squeeze his cheeks together again.
The two of you got up and stretched, joints aching with the activities of the night.
“Let me run us a bath, pretty girl. I’ll be right back,” Michael stated, still so eager to service you. He gave you a kiss, took your scattered clothes, and disappeared into your room’s shared bathroom, turning on the faucet of the huge bathtub and pouring in bubble soap and bath salts. He dimmed the lights and turned on the mini radio that sat atop the spacious counter, humming along to the jazzy instrumental crackling from its speakers. He left the bathroom, leaving the bath to run, and walked into your shared walk-in closet.
He picked out simple pajamas for the two of you. He got a plain white tee and tartan pajama pants for himself, and a pair of boyshorts and one of his comically oversized graphic tees for you, knowing you liked wearing it as a nightgown sometimes. He smiled to himself as he folded the clothing and placed them on top of the bed, awaiting your arrival.
You’d walked into the room shortly after, having tidied up the living room and cleaning up the cum from the couch. Your legs were aching from the sex and walking up the steps. You opened the door with a creak, legs almost giving out.
He turned around to face you, having just completed his task of putting both of your soiled clothes in your shared laundry basket. He grabbed your hand as he went to turn off the faucet in the bathtub, followed by sounds of you complaining. He didn’t want to walk away from you while you just came in, but your legs felt like you were moving in quicksand. He dipped his hand inside, testing the water and motioned for you to check for yourself. You gave him a thumbs up.
“You actually ruined me, Mike,” you complained dramatically as you wrapped your arms around his neck.
“That’s exactly what you asked me to do. Multiple times, at that! Can’t go back on your word now, silly girl.” He chuckled softly and booped your nose before stepping into tub, grabbing onto your hand to help you in like a gentleman.
“I’m not, I just wasn’t expecting…all that. It was like you were a different person. Very sexy of you, by the way.” You settled in front of him and he grabbed your loofah, doused it with soap, and started washing your back for you like it was something he was used to. He scrubbed you like you were the most delicate thing in the universe.
“I dunno what came over me either, honestly. I really was jus’ cravin’ you that much. I didn’t even know needin’ you more than I usually do was possible.” He paused, his usual shyness creeping back in. “And, uh, you were very sexy as well. Better than I ever imagined you’d be,” he tacked on, flustered.
“Thank you, angel.” You leaned your head back and gave him an upside-down kiss on the lips, feeling a shy smile creep into his lips. You picked your head back up and twisted your upper body around to face him.
“Aww, my baby,” you cooed at him.
“Y’know that nickname makes me shy,” he says, referring to ‘angel’ and all variations of it. He lifted your arms and scrubbed your sides and your stomach, traveling his way to your breasts as you responded.
“How can I not when you have such an angel face? You’re so precious, c’mon,” you fake pouted at him. Sweet vanilla and warm cinnamon filled your nostrils. Your favorite body wash. “See? You even act like an angel. You replaced my favorite body soap for me ‘cause it ran out.”
“That’s nothin’. I’d buy you a castle-” he paused, seeing the incredulous look on your face, realizing he was somehow helping your point. “Okay, okay whatever. You’re the one sent from heaven, though. Here, gimmie your leg ‘n hold onto my shoulder.”
Your face warmed up at the sincerity in his tone and the gentleness he used with you. As he continued his work, you watched him, filled with gratitude. He was so happy taking care of you like this, and you wondered how such a sweet person could truly exist.
As he finished you up he started washing himself up as you watched in adoration. You took his loofah and scooted to switch sides with him, washing his back as he did yours. He hummed along to the instrumental from the little radio, sounding identical to the saxophone singing from it. So beautiful.
The two of you dried your feet on the plush carpet beside the tub and stepped into the shower directly next to it to wash your hair and rinse off.
He washed his own hair as you rinsed off and cleaned your legs once more, both of you clingily standing under the huge showerhead that was big enough for more space between the two of you. You were just craving each other more than usual after crossing that final line.
You stood behind him as he wrung his hair, in no rush to free your eyes from the sight of his sleek, yet toned back in front of you. You leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the back of his shoulder and ran your hands up and down his waist once. Lurching forward, you grabbed your shampoo, and Michael took it from you unexpectedly.
“Wet your hair for me?” he asked, squeezing a glob into his hand and lathering it up.
You did just that and he turned you away from him, massaging the shampoo into your scalp as he combed your hair simultaneously. The domestic action made you want to drop to your knee and propose to him right there.
You reached your hand back and rubbed it up and down his arm in a silent ‘thank you’, too content to break the silence.
He grabbed it and gave it a romantic peck, rinsing the shampoo off and gently placing it back to your side. After he finishing working in and rinsing the conditioner, he stepped out of the steamy shower, leaving the water running for you. He grabbed your towel and beckoned you out, wanting to make sure you stayed warm the whole time.
He stepped back in and turned off the faucet and you wrapped yourself up, and then unraveled your towel and dried you off. He patted your hair dry and wrapped it up, as you made your way to the sink counter to get your blow dryer. You turned it on its second coolest setting and blew the water out of your hair, not focus on getting it to look a certain way.
He drained the tub, rinsed it out, and then dried off as you finished with your hair. He handed you your bathrobe.
“Here sit down,” he motioned to the plush ottoman sitting in there for whenever you moisturized your body. He grabbed your lotion and kneeled down, lathering it into your neck and shoulders, then down the front and back of your torso, lifted you up so he could get your ass, rubbed into your thighs and legs, and finally massaged your feet.
“Baby, you don’t have to do all this,” you protested, feeling bad that he was spending more time on your showing process than his own.
“I want to. I told you, I wanted our first time together to be perfect. That includes aftercare, baby. Besides, this is bare minimum.” He scoffed at your protest, offended. He placed your foot down and looked up at you, eyebrow raised.
You leaned down and pressed a kiss to his forehead.
He lotioned himself with his own scent with super speed, and out in his own bathrobe, then reached for the blow dryer. While he dried his own hair, you washed your face and moisturized it, letting the cool products seep into your skin. You picked up both of your towels and put them into your bathroom hamper as he quickly washed his own face. You slinked out of your bathrobe, hanging it up on the rack, and he followed behind you, turning off the light and closing the door behind him.
You saw the clothes folded up on the foot of the bed and smiled at him lovingly.
“You are so cute, did y’know that?” you asked him as you took in the setup before you.
“Enough of that,” Michael said, feigning annoyance. He was really just flustered. “Here, step in.” You pulled your boyshorts up your legs and over your naked sex and bottom. He ignored the way they fit on you and then stood up and pulled his t-shirt over your head. He hurried into his clothes and lifted the blanket on your side of the bed, leaned you into it.
“Gonna turn off the light,” he said as he ran to the wall and back to the bed, not really giving you time to notice he was leaving.
As the mattress slightly does on his side, you reached out for him and laid your head onto his chest, smelling the scent of your body wash and his own lotion on him. You softly sighed.
“Thank you for being so good to me,” you said tiredly.
“No, thank you. I’m so happy I made you my girl, ‘n I’m so grateful I got to express my love for you physically today.” He gave you a kiss on your forehead and pressed your body closer to his. “Can I have a kiss?” he asked you shyly.
“You don’t have to ask, y’know,” you said with a chuckle as your lips met his. You deepened it slightly, suddenly getting another flood of arousal at the feel of his body through his thin clothing. He did too, and you could feel it.
“I’m for sure too tired for a round three of a sixth orgasm, but we can try something,” you mused.
“Yeah, ‘n what’s that?” he asked with a smirk.
You pulled down his pants just enough to free his hardened sex, and pulled your own undies to the side. You gave him one more kiss and turned around, pushing it into you with a soft whine leaving both of your lips.
The stretch did just enough, as did your tightness around him. He slightly throb inside of you, the feeling of your cunt around him acting as a sensual hug. He adjusted just slightly, subconsciously aching for the friction he felt earlier. You both lazily met the other’s slow grinds, too tired to chase release, but still desperate for just a little bit more. It felt magical and poetic. You eventually stopped moving, too tired to take anything more from each other.
“Goodnight, my darling girl. Thank you for accepting the raw, unfiltered version of me. I’ve never been this vulnerable with anyone, n’ I’m so grateful that it was with you. I can’t wait to learn you more. I love you so very much,” he declared.
“I love you too, baby,” you said, exhaustion lacing your voice. “You’re perfect, all of you. Thank you for being comfortable for sharing it all with me. ‘N thank you for wanting to meant me. You make me feel so appreciated and adored. Sleep well, my love.”
You both felt eternally close to each other now, physically and emotionally. The activities of today blanketed your figures in a heavy gratefulness.
He pulled you back, wanting to be even closer to you somehow, and pressed kisses up and down your neck and the side of your face. He hummed a soft tune and stroked your hair softly as the two of you drifted off to sleep.
um funny thing where alamo’s daughter and Rue are making out and reader has on a different brand of foundation or something and it gets on rue and its like a little funny thing bc awe my foundation got on uu🥺
i love this wait. thank you for the rec!
cw: making out. alamo’s daughter!reader. rue being down bad.
rue loves her girl, like she’s head over heels. everyone knows that rue is seeing someone because she always leaves with a mark. not necessarily a hickey or anything, but still enough of a mark to indicate that rue is totally off limits.
like now, during her break, rue decided to grab you and pull you into a vacant room. she had you against the wall as her knee made its way between your thighs. rue’s lips wasted no time meeting your glossed ones, lined with your favorite lip liner and finished off with your favorite gloss.
you started to grind against rue’s knee, your breath becoming heavier by the second. without permission, rue’s tongue slipped into your mouth, the kiss now sloppy and heated.
by now, rue was damn near eating your face, but she never cared. she was always hungry for you and she had no problem with showing it.
you tried to break the kiss, your manicured hand slightly pushing against rue’s chest. “r-rue, my makeup.” you panted, “you’re gonna mess it all up, i still have to go see daddy after this.”
rue didn’t care, she wasn’t listening to anything you were saying at the moment. rue’s face was already covered in your makeup. your lip combo was now hers, hints of blush and your foundation smudged against her face.
a smug smirk appeared across rue’s face. “well, looks like you’re gonna have to do some explaining to him, huh?” rue grabbed your face, her lips attacking yours once again.
sometimes you didn’t even know why you bothered being dolled up around rue, when you knew it always resulted in rue nearly taking everything off.
the shit i’m seeing on twitter about this gc business/baenation i hope yall are proud af! because now jaafar ain’t gon give yall the light of day like you harassed his wife and didn’t think we would call the cops and block yall? stay in a fans place if yall intl focused on the issue at hand with her this wouldn’t be happening like clockwork yall do this bull in every male actors fanbase and wonder why they start pulling beyoncé’s and don’t wanna interact with yall and be private
addition: this also shows that yall didn’t give a fck about no zionism or palestine as a whole only used that as a cover for your jealousy and parasocialism because instead of harassing her and constantly speaking on her like some kind of fan you could’ve been sending this girl sources on how to raise awareness to gaza and even films to watch to show how serious this genocide is but no oh no yall just wanted to be performative to your own benefit and now look and i bet he finna tell jermajesty along with the family so kiss yall lil fantasies goodbye
“okay, honeybee let me shower real quick” you hummed, sliding off the bed to head over to the bathroom. michael nodded, telling you he’ll be waiting. his eyes watching the door slowly close, but from luckily for him there was a light crack that gave his eyes access. so whatever, he watched you undress, the stream soon filling the mirror before you finally disappeared into the warm water. michael was so comfortable with stealing your panties he made no effort to actually be quiet. sliding off your bed with a light thump before heading to your dirty laundry basket.. peaking over the open lid to find what he was looking for. your panties, obviously! he quickly snatched up a pretty dark red thong that laid on top of some jeans. sliding them into the pocket of his bottoms before casually walking back to the bed to lay back down. fingers still rubbing the crotch area of the fabric. and of course this isn’t the first or last time he’s stealing your panties. he’ll just offer to buy you more then steal them later on. think of it as an investment <3
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━ ˙⋆✮Dangerous era!Michael who can’t help but turn doggy style into pronebone every single time. (18+ mdni)
It starts with you on all fours and his all-too-soft grip pawing at your waist— he can never bring himself to be rough with you. In fact, it’s always you who initiates this position.
There’s just something about the way he fills you so nice and deep when he hits it from the back, it’s the kind of angle that sends your hips in reverse meeting his in an echo of skin slapping skin.
And he knows you like it like that— when his dick buries into that one specific spot. So he’ll press you further into the mattress with every stroke until your tummy is flat against the sheets, with only his forearm keeping his weight from plowing into you.
“You feel s’good like this angel.” His breath rasps against your ear between thrusts.
“Wanna keep you right here— like this, all day.”
The words are a dazed groan as he buries into you deeper, his hips colliding with the curve of your ass.
“Then why don’t you?” You’re barely able to form the question with your face smushed into his pillow and your moans getting caught in your throat.
His laugh brushes against your neck and his skin sticks to yours, slick and heaving, as his chest pins you further into his bed. Each precise movement of his hips is slow and steady, sending an incoherent whine to your lips.
“I’d be happy to.” His words of accommodation are soft and sweet. A tender declaration to contradict the weight of his body pressing heavy against you. His gruff moans melt into your skin with every plunge of his cock between your thighs as he thinks about falling asleep in you after you’ve both finished— tucked deep inside your cunt with your cum seeping around his cock.
🐆💋 — thriller!michael and you enjoy doing sleepovers, really you enjoy him spending time in your room as you bombard him with skin care routine because you find it entertaining. michael indulges in your fun, letting you cover his face with a homemade clay formula your mom taught you. his many attempts to kiss you only end up in a closed mouth, laughing fit with you. you usually had your radio on low, playing whatever tape was left in from before. it was relaxing to spend time together.
it’s no secret that the two of you enjoy making late-night snacks and eating them in your room as you gossip to him. you’ve found comfort in these peaceful moments with him, no media bothering your sweet man and michael being fully relaxed and safe in your presence.
whenever michael comes over to your place for a sleepover he gifts you with your favorite bouquet, every time, even when your other flowers haven’t gone old yet, his excuse: “i’ll add more and we can turn it into a garden.” with the biggest smile on his face, which earns him a big kiss on his cheek and you calling him a dork after.
you love all the letters michael gives you, his heart and body jittery for a kiss and a compliment and you give him just that. you’re obsessed with him and he’s even more obsessed with you. these little cute sleepovers you have with him are the few reminders of that, plus the date nights where you get dolled up and he gets to show you off to the world.
just imagine gripping his shirt, maybe undoing a couple buttons just to see him bite his lip and turn his head away, embarrassed. i'm not sure which i like more, girlboss reader who rides it like a rodeo champ, rocking the bed, or failgirl reader who does slow, hesitant drags along his belt that causes him to gasp and whine for more. whatever, regardless, i think belt riding is so hot.
esp like... okay, laying against his chest and just grinding from there after a long day of work. lazy, slow grinding. hearing him try his best to talk about his day as you work yourself against him. or maybe you're trying to talk and he's listening with a grin, cheeks flushed but he's all too content to hear you stutter your way through "my day was good". belt riding can be domestic and cute guys you have to believe me you have to understand!!!!
⌗ synopsis: being michael jackson’s bestfriend can be difficult when he expects you to drop everything and answer his calls !
⌗ contents: fem!reader, fluff, small kiss, childhood bestfriends, nicknames.
SATURDAY, 9:27 pm.
you were practically buzzing with excitement, electric feelings that only a saturday night in 1982 could replicate. music was buzzing faintly from your busted up radio player, hair finally doing what you had been begging for it to do all night, and your outfit laid out on the bed reminding you of all the wild memories you’d make tonight.
tonight was supposed to be a funky, crazy night.
one last look in the mirror, okay…actually four last looks in the mirror before you spun on your heels and towards your closet to grab a jean jacket to combat the nipping cold.
right as you reached for the jacket, the phone rang annoyingly down the hall.
you groaned dramatically at the ceiling, “of course.” a quiet mutter.
you had ignored the first call. if it was michael which you were almost positive it was. he would only talk to you about something completely unnecessary, make you forget the time and miss the nightclub completely.
but it continued to ring, two calls in a row couldn’t be anything good. he usually always left a silly voicemail for you to hear after the first.
with a few taps of your feet against the wooden floors and a sigh you padded down the hallway to grab the receiver, twirling the cord around your finger.
“…this you, mikey? or am i talking to bubbles?”
for a moment all you heard was soft breathing—too quiet, far to out of the ordinary for little micheal jackson. not his usual excited mumble jumble of words he shot out within seconds.
“oh y/n! finally! oh man, i thought you fell asleep with your face in the pillow again.”
there he was, the teasing, the loud bubbly voice, the same exact micheal you grew up with.
you rolled your eyes although he couldn’t see it. “cmon michael, why’re you callin’ this late? im about to head out for the night.”
“yeah yeah whatever..” he interjected. “but just hear me out on this mama, its super important.”
“im listening michael.”
he inhaled dramatically, practically hearing the wide smile he had on his face. “no one and really i mean no one wants to watch a movie with me tonight. not any of my brothers, even bubbles keeps falling asleep during the funny parts. it’s insulting really.”
you lowered the phone, biting back a laugh. “really micheal?”
“im serious!” the desperation was evident in his tone, he couldn’t stay occupied by a chimpanzee any longer.
you shook your head, smiling. he truly was still the boy you met all those adolescent years ago, still boyish and silly.
but still—god he was doing it. he was pulling you in without even realizing it. you had plans, plans you waited all week for.
“mikey, i can’t tonight,” you winced internally, saying no to him still felt like kicking a puppy. “the girls are already on their way.”
“but mama..” he whined, whined. like he was eight all over again begging you to color with him. “it won’t be fun without you, it never is.”
“micheal..” you sighed, stretching the phone cord towards the front door, peeking out the window to check if your friends headlights are shining through the dark streets.
“i even got your favorite icecream. also got sprinkles and cherries..”
you opened your mouth to speak but closed it, frustrated between choosing.
“and,” he added, sensing your walls crumbling beneath his fingertips. “i found that real old movie we used to love when we were kids. the one with the terrible acting and even worse special effects, i even set up pillows on the floor, it’s all ready girl. just missin the most important piece.”
you pressed the phone to your forehead and groaned dramatically.
he knew, he always did.
“mikey you’re killing me,” you muttered. “i wanted to dance tonight.”
“you can dance here!” he chirped excitedly. “ill even pretend i don’t notice when you mess up the footwork completely.”
that damaged the ego just a little, “i do not mess up my footwork, rascal.”
“no judgement over here mama, you know that.” hearing the way he was trying to quietly set up the ice cream bowls and sprinkles behind the phone, making your heart tug uncontrollably.
“michael i really can’t,” you mumbled, “my girlfriends are going to kill you once they find out, this is the fourth time you’ve done this.”
“please?” he said, softer. not whiny, not playful. just heart achingly honest. “i really want you here tonight.”
the silence pools between the two of you, both staying silent for different reasons. micheal was quiet because he was afraid if he said anything else you’d change your mind. and you were quiet because micheal was making it real hard to say no.
you sighed, running an irritated hand over your face. “fine micheal, fine. you never play fair.”
he laughed like he had finally won a prize at the fair, like nothing else mattered. which in his case, it really didn’t. he would never get over how easy it was to pull at your heart strings—showing all 32 teeth behind the telephone.
“alright y/n, see you in a few minutes. gotta go wake bill up from his beauty sleep.”
click!
you let out a breath you hadn’t even known to be holding, looking at the ceiling for strength you so desperately needed. why were you such a sucker for him? you don’t know when he got his hooks in you but they had to have been in deep.
˖ ݁♬⋆.˚𝄞.
bill showed up fifteen minutes later in a familiar car, nodding politely as you climbed in. he looked amused—clearly micheal’s dramatic begging hadn’t stopped at the age of ten.
the ride went by quick with polite small talk to the man you practically grew up alongside, pulling into the large home as you have so many times before.
bill led you to the front door and practically vanished, knowing you could map the direction of the house with your eyes closed.
quick pit pattering of quiet feet rushed towards you from upstairs, “you’re here!” his face lit up like a kid in a candy store.
“you manipulated me micheal don’t make it sound like we arranged this.” you tried to fight the smile that came with his infectious energy.
he couldn’t wait a second longer, he grabbed your wrist and tugged you towards the living room—looking exactly how he described it on the phone. blankets everywhere, pillows messily decorating the floor, and a movie waiting to be played on the television.
“well, you certainly weren’t lying.” you looked over at him, heart beginning to race at how handsome he looked tonight. his clean smelling cologne and shiny curls cascading down his chiseled face made this feel so surreal. your lips parted with a shaky breath, eyes flitting down to his full lips that were a pretty pink.
quickly looking away, feeling your pulse hammer against your ribs like it wanted to jump out.
he naturally does the same, taking a glance at the way your lips glossed in the light. “i take my movie nights very very seriously y/n, let’s go grab some icecream.”
he reaches for you without even realizing, grabbing your hand in his and clasps your fingers together. leading you with such a giddy expression it makes your stomach flutter with a sudden warm feeling.
the house felt so unreal at this hour, it was far to big and quiet, too dreamlike. every sound echoed, the freezer door opening, the clinking of spoons, and micheals soft breath as he hovered way too close behind you.
he wasn’t even pretending to help you. just standing there watching every expression that pulled on your face.
“are you just gonna watch me do all the work or help me?” you looked over your shoulder with a teasing glance, noticing how intently he was staring.
“im supervising.” he murmured, voice warm with that shy rasp.
you swallowed harder then you meant to, hands nervously fumbling with the scoop.
when you handed him the bowl, he purposefully let his fingers brush up against yours. not dramatic, just letting them linger a longer then he ever had courage to. like he wasn’t ready to let go yet.
“that good?” you asked.
he nodded, trying to distract himself from how powdery and sweet you smelled.
you just smiled with a playful scoff, reaching for the chocolate syrup—and he literally followed you. as soon as you took the step he also took a step. “youre hovering mikey.”
“i know, just don’t wanna be to far from you.” he admitted quietly.
the confession sat between you, strangely honest for the normally shy man. you handed him the syrup to distract the both of you, and just like he did so many years ago he covered the strawberry icecream in chocolate syrup—a full spiral, then another.
“alright no more michael, don’t wanna hear you complain about a chocolate induced stomachache later,” you giggled, reaching for the bottle.
he held it out of reach playfully, “can never have to much chocolate, doll.”
you rolled your eyes at him, taking a spoonful of the cold dessert and feeling it melt along your tongue.
“you got icecream on ya face,” he said, tapping his own bottom lip.
“where?” you darted out your tongue, trying to lick the dollop of icecream seemingly on your face.
he didn’t raise his hand, didn’t even reach for a napkin. he just stepped in closer, brushing the corner of your mouth with his thumb. light, barley a whisper of touch.
he brings his thumb to your mouth, the same one that was shining with gloss and ice cream and licked it clean. “there.”
you stared at him. lips parting with a quiet breath, heart picking up that same nervous pace.
he swallowed, eyes flitting from your eyes back to your mouth like he couldn’t decide which was prettier. a subtle hint of want lying deep in his gut. before you called attention to it, he leaned in. slow, hesitant, and allowed his body to do all the work for him.
he gently pressed his lips against yours, so gentle, so achingly micheal it made your stomach blossom with butterflies. he truly was a gentleman inside and out, sure he wanted to kiss you till you both lost breath but he knew that wasn’t the way to approach such a beautiful woman like you—he had to treat you like the P.Y.T you were.
when he pulled away he almost looked embarrassed, a gentle pink flush rising on his cheeks.
“sorry,” he whispered. “i just..had to. been wanting to.” a quiet confession.
you put your spoon down beside you, heartbeat loud in your ears. “you don’t have to apologize for giving a girl what she wants.”
finally, a smile rose to his lips. showing all of his thirty two sparkly white teeth like he couldn’t believe you enjoyed that kiss. he had been dreaming of it your whole ride here, planning how to seem calm and collected about it.
“you still owe me a nightclub night,” you laughed, bringing a sweet, gentle kiss to his cheek.
“ill take you every weekend mama,” he said almost instantly, wrapping an arm around your waist as the other held his ice cream.
“you’re ridiculous.”
luckily you picked up that phone, make sure you do everytime !
@dollhabits work ! ,, not proofread :-(
a/n: im literally going to make three thousand of these i need boyfriend micheal so badly rn its not even funny 😭 but please send me ideas in my dms, comments or inbox!! not guaranteed that ill get to it but i literally love talking to you guys and id love to write about what you guys personally enjoy. loves ya!
Hello what about a sweet story about Michael pampering his fiancee. Drawing her a bath then giving her a full body massage talking to her sweetly with kisses 🤭
pampering the love of my life.
thriller m. jackson x fiancée reader. anon states the gist! this is so sweet. established relationships, kissing, massages, fluffiness.
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m'tired...
resting comfortably in the tub, soapy water covered your body in a blanket of warmth that soothed your muscles. michael made sure to add a few drops of essential oils and sprinkles of epsom salt to make sure you could truly relax.
y'can fall asleep if it gets to you. just give me a warning!
michael's playfulness always made you giggle, and that's exactly what he wanted to see. a smile on your face, always.
the scent of lavender soothed you the moment he guided you to settle into the bath. sitting on the porcelain next to the tub, michael's palms were on your shoulders.
rubbing his fingertips into the taut knots, he whispered sweet things under his breath.
i wont fall asleep...
in the middle of your sentence, you yawned out with a breathy sigh. michael knew you too well, knowing that the massage combined with the bath would soothe you just enough for you to doze off.
however, he did want to give you a proper massage. not just your shoulders.
how about in a few minutes i can give you that massage, huh?
michael proposed the idea, humming while he traced his fingertips to your scalp, giving you a gentle head massage. tipping your neck back into his palms, you looked up at him with a grin.
for me?
michael laughed, nodding his head.
for my gorgeous fiancée, anything.
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michael made sure you were pampered even out of the bath. he didn't let you do much work.
helping you out of the tub was the bare minimum; he made sure to swoop you off your feet, set you down on the porcelain, and begin drying you off.
you couldn't help but reach out and caress his forearm, reeling him in for a kiss on the cheek.
you're too sweet, mikey... always pampering me.
whispering, you gazed at michael adoringly. he truly was your person.
love seeing my girl all happy, y'know?
michael's lips curled into a grin, peppering kisses down the side of your face. abruptly, the moment he guided you to your feet, you were soon off the ground once again, in michael's arms, bridal style.
give a girl a warning!
bursting into a fit of laughter, michael held you near while stepping to the bed and positioning you down carefully.
you were his princess; he would always treat you like one.
don't be dramatic!
with a dramatic gasp, you grabbed michael's hand and pulled him close.
mikey! don't call your fiancée dramatic!
michael giggled, rolling his eyes with a playful little smirk. he loved when you both would banter like this, it made him feel comfortable enough to act that way with you.
okay, okay. turn around, baby. let me give you a nice massage...
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michael knew how to make you relax in all the right ways. his attention to detail with the pressure of his palms gliding across your moisturized skin nearly had you falling asleep after five minutes.
fighting to stay awake, you just loved to talk to him. dragging on endless conversations accompanied with a little yawn after each string of words.
michael couldn't help but laugh at your attempts.
baby, quit talkin' and let me just give you a massage...
he scolded lightly, applying a little more oil on your back. he stared at how your muscles relaxed under his fingertips, bringing a smile to his face.
y're so precious, y'know? like an angel,
he whispered, those words making you feel sleepier. you felt so comfortable and safe. always with him.
y'think so?
your voice was light, on the verge of slumber. michael nodded from behind you, sighing out in awe. he loved you.
i know so.
love you...
whispering, your eyelids felt heavier with each passing second. soon enough, you'd drift your way to sleep.
michael didn't stop massaging you. after a few minutes, he leaned close to gently press light kisses up your back and to your shoulders. making sure he didn't wake you, michael pulled the blanket over your bare figure to keep you warm.
for a few seconds, he just stared down at you.
admiring how gorgeous you looked. his heart felt warm, and he couldn't ever rub that smile off his face whenever he saw you.
sweetest dreams, princess.
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usage of princess because like. i feel like the whole fairytales/princesses/prince interest brought them together. so cute.
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the stage lights of the 1986 American music awards were so painfully bright they made everything shimmer—the cameras, the crowd, the gold envelope that trembled slightly within your grip. regardless you held a steady smile, letting out a puff of air.
you weren’t sure if it was the nerves or because your micheal was sitting front row looking like a million bucks.
the quiet, brilliant, endlessly gentle micheal that made it his mission to kiss off all of your lipstick right before you went on stage. lips still swollen with friction. you freshened up of course but the sensation of his soft, plump, warm lips still lingered.
your heels clicked sharply against the polished stage floor as you walked out, making a mental note to not trip. the lights were far to bright, the applause too forced, and the air too thick with perfume.
but none of that is what made your stomach twist.
it was him.
micheal was right there in the front row, leaning slightly forward, elbows resting on his knees. his suit was unbelievably crisp, gleaming just enough to catch the light, curls styled perfectly in his signature hairstyle. but it was the way he stared that made the pressure in your gut intensify.
a smug smile etched onto his face as he watched you walk up on stage, looking beyond proud at how he could see the swollen nature of your kissed out lips from where he was sitting.
you forced your thoughts into a line and stepped to the microphone.
“good evening,” you spoke, smile soft and steady. “tonight, i have the honor of presenting best male rock artist..”
absentmindedly his lips parted, eyes softening just hearing your voice. and something in his posture shifted, like he was silently rooting for you even though you were just reading off a card.
you cleared your throat, trying not to look at him.
“and the award goes to..”
you opened the envelope slowly just like you practiced, dragging out the suspense because that’s what the producers wanted— but also because there was a small shake in your hands.
“bruce springsteen!” you flipped the card around to show the audience.
the crowd cheered so loudly it vibrated your ribs.
you brightened, a practiced smile curling your lips upwards.
and then bruce was suddenly there, jogging up the stairs with the biggest grin, energy exploding off of him as he swept you right off your feet, literally.
“y/n! get over here!” he laughed, arms opening far to wide.
before you could even properly brace yourself for what was to come, which absolutely wasn’t planned. he swept you up.
you were lifted off the ground, feet dangling in the air, dress tightening around your waist from where his arms were braced around you, spinning you around in a full circle like the two of you were headlining a rom-com.
your stomach flipped nervously, but you managed a breathless laugh for the cameras. hands gripping his shoulders for support because you refused to face plant on national television.
“bruce!” you yelped, heat rushing to your face. “this is not what we practiced!” you looked at the camera with a smile, making this all seem natural.
he only grinned wider, setting you back onto your heels while keeping one strong arm braced alongside your back to steady you. his fingers dug into your waist like he had every right to, like he knew your body better then you did.
then he leaned in, warm breath brushing against your cheek.
and before you could react, he kissed your cheek like he’s done it before. quick, playful, dishonest.
but bold above it all.
way, way to bold.
of course the audience loved it, they whooped and cheered with delight. completely eating it up.
but something inside of you clenched, because that kiss was purely meant for the cameras. it felt a little like he was showing off. like he felt comfortable enough to show something off that wasn’t his because your dress hugged you in all the right places.
you forced out a bitter laugh, stepping back a half step, keeping the energy light and playful. “you’re too much, bruce.”
but as he moved to the microphone, you let your eyes drift off to the crowd. most importantly the front row, gauging everyone’s reactions to that ridiculous performance by the rockstar.
micheal hadn’t moved, not even a little.
his expression wasn’t angry, he doesn’t do angry in public. but his jaw was noticeably tight, his mouth drawn into a firm line and eyes were dark in a way that made your heart skip several beats.
like he’d gone very, very quiet in a way that meant he was thinking too much. the same silent storm you knew to be troubling. continuing to eat at him until he finally snapped.
and even worse, his eyes weren’t just roaming your face, they were tracing the spots where bruce had touched you, like he was replaying it. he hated the memory even sitting in his conscience.
“shit,” you mouthed under your breath, half amused, half already bracing for the argument later.
you hesitantly stepped back up to the podium after bruce had finished his speech, trying to swallow the racing pulse that threatened to jump out of your mouth.
“now we present the special guest of the night award,” you cleared your throat, hands gesturing towards micheal. “micheal jackson everybody!”
the crowd exploded with cheers and legitimate excitement, but you could barley focus because when he stood up everything else around you became a distant dull buzz.
he moved with such a different grace then the rockstar previous to him, no rush, no show. just unapologetically himself, smooth careful steps like the entire room was something he already knew how to navigate.
but his eyes?
they hadn’t left you for even a second, even now as he walked up the steps. when he reached you he stopped just close enough to feel your breath against his neck. taking a moment to look you up and down, tongue darting out to his bottom lip.
“you’re staring mikey,” you whispered automatically, softer then you intended.
his eyes snapped to your face, looking at the same cheek that another man had just previously kissed. the thought alone made his hands clench, knuckles flushing white with abhorrent anger.
he took the award when it was handed to him, but it barley registered. his fingers closed around it like an afterthought.
“thank you…very much,” he began. “im honored.”
applause rolled through the room casually, but he didn’t respond to it the way he usually did. he didn’t shy away from it, he didn’t even give a boyish smile.
instead, his eyes angrily flicked towards you again.
your lips twitched faintly, he wasn’t being subtle about this, not even a little.
“i think…it’s important to remember,” he continued slowly, voice tender but firm underneath it all. “to treat women with respect, with unconditional care.”
a silent beat passed.
“i don’t like when people forget that.”
your eyebrows lifted slightly, the corner of your mouth fighting a smile you refused to make a show of.
because you knew him all to well, this wasn’t a speech. this was micheal trying his hardest not to say too much in front of thousands of people. even worse, taking you in his arms and kissing you in places that would absolutely get you two blacklisted from an event like this ever again.
“thank you for this, to everyone who really supports me. knows that i don’t tolerate ignorance.” he finished a little to quickly, like staying up there any longer would make him lose control of something.
then he stepped back, immediately turning towards you. not the audience, not the camera crew, not even at the fan girls in the back. as if his body knew that was the only direction that mattered.
he didn’t even look where he was walking—just bolted straight to your side, close enough that his shoulder brushed alongside yours as he headed backstage.
“come with me,” he muttered, barley audible but his tone made it clear that it wasn’t up for discussion.
the second you two were off stage the noise of the AMA’s dissolved into something distant and muffled, like the world had been wrapped in velvet and shut behind you.
you barley had time to register what was happening let alone a full breath out before his firm hand locked onto your wrist, guiding you to his dressing room.
he stopped only when you reached a quiet stretch of the private room—dim lights, empty chairs, the faint echo of stage music still vibrating against the walls.
and then he turned.
no cameras now, no crowd, no performative smiles and nods. just the sound of his unsteady breathing, chest rising and deflating with an unseen anger. he looked down at your wrist and finally let go, like he hadn’t realized how long he’d been holding you.
“that wasn’t funny,” he said, voice low and trembling with irritation.
you blinked. “micheal—”
“he put his hands on you.” his voice cracked with such real raw emotion, “when he spun you around like that…and then he kissed you—”
he stood several feet away from you now, one hand braced against his hip while the other repeatedly dragged anxiously through his curls. but not because he was trying to fix them, because he didn’t know what else to do with himself.
“from where i was sitting it looked like you were perfectly comfortable being lifted and spun around in front of thousands watching.” his head tilted slightly, something sharp in the way he looked at you now.
that sentence landed like a match striking in dry air.
your eyebrows raising in complete disbelief before you could even stop yourself, “comfortable? are you serious micheal? i was unknowingly picked up infront of those thousand people while being recorded. i didn’t exactly have time to complain.”
his jaw tightened immediately, making a quiet clicking sound with his tongue. clearly fighting an eye roll. “that’s not what i meant and you know it.”
“then speak up, because if you’re trying to accuse me of enjoying that interaction you’ll be walking your ass home.” you shot back, heels clicking harder then necessary onto the cold tile floor because you couldn’t bear to stay still as he looked at you like you orchestrated the whole thing.
“im not—im not angry at you.” he replied quickly, exactly how he did when taking to a family member. not wanting anymore trouble then the conversation was worth, he completely shuts down when arguing was involved. but the tone alone told you he was more then upset.
you let out a humorless laugh, “that’s funny mike, your looking at me like i asked him to lift up my dress and have fun.”
his eyes snapped towards you, as if the words that just came out of your mouth repulsed him. he let out a dry scoff, already irritated by someone touching you let alone pulling up your dress. wrong choice of words.
“don’t even say something that like that, are you crazy?” he laughed angrily, taking just a few strides before he was right infront of you. his long legs allowing him to travel quicker, breath hitting your face as his eyes traced every detail of your pretty face.
both of you far to stubborn to speak up, inhaling each others scent as you tried to swallow the urge to smash your lips against his. anger aside he looked good enough to create a warm heat between your legs, pressing them together hoping he doesn’t notice.
his shoulders rose and fell with a heavy breath before he shook his head. “this isn’t getting us anywhere.”
you folded your arms, “that’s because you refuse to say you’re sorry.”
“and you refuse to understand why im upset.” his eyes narrowed onto your lips, subtly watching the way they glistened and popped with each word.
for a second neither of you moved, then micheal suddenly turned towards the dressing room door with determination simmering in his brown doe eyes.
“what are you doing? im still talking to you micheal!” an irritated glare flashed on your face quickly as he reached for the shiny handle, immediately assuming the worst. that he was going to walk out upset with you, forcing you to follow him like a hurt puppy which you absolutely wouldn’t allow.
“come with me.”
“no.”
“no?” his brow quirked upwards, a toothy grin pulling on his now amused face.
“no.” you finalized, stubbornly crossing your arms over your chest.
he stared at you for a moment before letting out a puff of laughter, throwing his head back in irritation from how stubborn you really had proved to be. instead of arguing with you he just opened the door, latching onto your wrist with his naturally gentle touch.
the sounds of the backstage hallway immediately flooded into your senses, crew members, security, distant arguing, and most importantly. reporters, reporters who’s main goal was to film celebrities all night hoping to catch something raunchy or appealing enough to stir up controversy.
a small cluster of said reporters and photographers had gathered near the end of the corridor, waiting for the celebrities to pass after the show hoping to score a quick two minute interview with someone.
your confusion only grew, “micheal what does this have to do with anything? you’re irritating me.”
micheal looked at them like they could solve world hunger with a quick flash of their cameras, a hungry glimmer decorating his brown eyes. he looked back at you then at them, a smile pulling on his lips.
and suddenly a strange sense of realization started creeping into your chest, trying to pull at his hand to guide him the other way where it was quiet. no press, just a black car waiting to take you two home.
but he wasn’t listening now, or maybe he was but this was his version of ending the argument in a way without words. he had never been good at yelling or getting his point across, far to selfless to allow himself to hurt others with his words. so in his eyes this would solidify his statement.
and before you knew it you were directly infront of atleast ten reports with cameras, expensive microphones that picked up every squeak on the glistening tile.
the second they noticed who was infront of them the flashes exploded, people immediately shoving others to be closer with their cameras, fan girls starting to cry and rush to the scene.
“you wanna argue on camera? what a plan micheal, real childish.” you rolled your eyes, trying to pull your hand away from his to escape from the thousands of cameras that were flashing over your irritated face.
his eyes finally met yours as he shifted his body towards you, a small smile dragging his mouth upwards—looking almost mischievous, and before you could protest any further he pulled you closer. impossible closer.
you stumbled into his chest, flashes starting to become quicker. your heart practically jumped out of your chest, realizing what his plan was all along.
his lips smashed against yours in a heated exchange of, gloss, spit, and the anger of being helplessly in love colliding together on atleast forty different cameras. he didn’t bother pulling away as the flashes consumed your bodies, one hand settling along your waist, pulling you into his firm chest while the other held onto your hand.
you could feel the smug smile on his lips as he kissed you, just like earlier he loved proving that you were undoubtedly his. now you’d be undoubtedly his to every woman in the world.
when he pulled back photographers were practically falling over each other trying to capture even a sliver of a second, on the other hand you couldn’t help but to stare breathlessly at him, a weird fluttering feeling blooming in your stomach.
“tomorrow,” he whispered in your ear, “every magazine is going to have that printed on the front cover, every radio station, every talk show.”
you blinked.
“are you crazy!?” you covered your face, an embarrassed flush heating up your cheeks. covering your mouth with a manicured hand, pulling him away from the crowd as he wore a love struck smirk on his kissed out lips. knowing he didn’t regret a single thing.
“no one will remember that shmuck who picked you up, they’ll remember me kissing you like the last woman on earth.” he giggled behind you, beyond proud of himself.
despite yourself, despite the argument, despite the anger that seemed to dissipate into thin air you felt a laugh threatening to escape.
“you’re ridiculous, mikey. you could’ve just said you were sorry.”
“could’ve, but that felt way better.” he giggled his whole way to the blacked out car, gripping onto your hand like his life depended on it—cheesing like the childish kid he still was at heart.
@dollhabits work!
a/n: this is so booty i think i might rewrite but ever since i saw that clip of him glaring at d*ana at this particular award show i HADDDD to write this like immediately because this is exactly what it gave when he was staring at her on stage like i need that so bad 🥹 also please don’t flame me i literally know NOTHING about bruce springsteen i don’t even know if hes chopped so i will litch swap him out with someone else if you guys want lol
Content: in which Michael's running a fever, yet refuses to stop practicing
A/n: I wrote this with otw Michael in mind, but it can be any era!
“Enough, Michael!” Your voice boomed over the music that blared from the speakers before your fingers moved towards the plug, abruptly cutting the music. The silence that fell amongst the room was almost deafening; the only thing that could be heard was the sound of his ragged breathing, as you watched his chest heave up and down in a rhythmic pattern, sucking up every little bit of air around him, sweat dripping down his forehead and neck, pooling at the collar of his T-shirt.
“But, baby—”
Classic Michael. Using pet names to deflect as soon as he was cornered.
“No, you're clearly not feeling well, yet you'd rather drop dead than admit it and give it a rest.” You crossed your arms, eyes narrowing at his sweaty form. The room felt hot and stuffy, small waves of air hitting the room from the open door, but it wasn't enough to cut through the humidity of the room.
“C'mon, you know I have to practice… I have to be perfect,” his voice was uneven, still catching his breath from the intense dance session that happened moments before. His knees seemed wobbly as he tried his best to hold eye contact. His hand pressed against the wall to steady himself, against the weight of his fatigue and fever. He looked absolutely exhausted, eyes heavy and half-lidded, shoulders hanging low.
“Mike, you've been in the spotlight for so long, performing for fans all over, I think you deserve to give yourself a break. I mean, look at you, you're on the verge of collapsing.” You looped your arm around his own sweaty arm. His skin was hot and flushed, like it could burn your own, but you didn't care. The only thing on your mind currently was keeping him upright.
“Let's get you back to bed, okay? I'll get you a compress and some soup. How does that sound?” You glanced at his features, completely drained of all the energy he had left.
