JJ

It starts the way it always does with him on his knees.

He's already hard before he even touches you, his cock straining against his jeans as he presses his face into the inside of your thigh. He breathes you in, deep and slow, like a man taking his first lungful of air. His doe eyes are half lidded, dark and glassy, his lips parted. He's not begging yet. Not out loud. But the way his fingers tremble against your skin says everything.

"Please," he finally breathes, voice hoarse. "Please, baby. Let me taste you. Just a little. Just—" He kisses the crease where your thigh meets your hip, tongue darting out to taste salt and warmth. "I need it. I need it."

You barely nod before he's burying his face between your legs.

Michael doesn't start slow. There's no teasing, no gentle buildup. He goes straight for your clit with the flat of his tongue, laving it in long, broad strokes that make your hips jerk. His hands grip your thighs, spreading you wider, holding you open for him like you're a meal he's been starved for. And he has been. Every hour away from you is an hour of withdrawal, of craving, of counting down until he can have this again.

He moans against you, the vibration sending a jolt straight to your core. His tongue flicks faster, circles, presses flat, then flicks again. He's sloppy. Desperate. There's no technique to it just pure, unadulterated hunger. Saliva and your wetness mix together, dripping down his chin, and he doesn't wipe it away. He wears it like a badge of honor.

"Fuck," he mutters against your cunt, the word muffled by your flesh. "Fuck, you taste so fucking good. Sweet. So sweet. I could—" He stops talking because his mouth is too busy, too full of you.

He loses track of time down there. Minutes blur into hours. His jaw aches, his tongue cramps, but he doesn't stop. Can't stop. Every time you try to shift away, oversensitive and trembling, he tightens his grip on your hips and pulls you back. His nose presses into your pubic bone, his lips sealed around your clit, sucking gently at first, then harder, then letting go only to dive back in.

When you're in bed, he crawls under the covers without a word. You feel his hot breath against your inner thigh before his mouth finds you, half-asleep and warm. He nuzzles into your cunt like a man seeking comfort, lapping lazily at your folds until you're wet and sighing in your sleep. He falls asleep that way sometimes his cheek pressed against your thigh, lips brushing your clit, breathing you in. He wakes up hard, aching, and immediately starts all over again, licking you awake.

During the day, it's worse.

He'll pull you into the studio under the pretense of needing your opinion on a new track. The door clicks shut, the blinds close, and suddenly he's on his knees again. He shoves a pillow under him not for his comfort, but to get the angle right. His chin tilts up, his tongue out, waiting. Begging with his eyes.

"Just a taste," he whispers. "I'm stuck. I can't write. I can't think. I need—" He presses his forehead to your thigh, breathing hard. "I need your pussy, baby. She's my muse. She's the only thing that makes the words come."

And you let him. Because it's true. The moment his mouth finds you, the tension in his shoulders melts. His hands roam your ass, squeeze, spread, pull you closer. His tongue works you until you're gasping, your fingers tangled in his hair, your hips grinding against his face. He moans with every flick, every suck, every time your cunt clenches around nothing because his tongue is right there, pressing into your entrance, tasting your cream.

He comes in his pants without realizing it.

The first time it happens, he's so focused on your pleasure that he doesn't notice his own cock throbbing, pulsing, spilling into his jeans. The wet patch spreads warm against his thigh, and he only becomes aware of it when you're done, panting and limp, and he pulls back with a glistening chin. He looks down at himself, blinks, and then grins, sheepish, embarrassed, but also proud.

"Sorry," he mutters, but he's not sorry at all.

It becomes a pattern. Two pairs of jeans a week. Sometimes three. He starts buying cheap brands because he knows they'll be ruined. The laundry basket fills with stiff, stained denim, and he never complains. He just shuffles to the drawer, pulls out another pair, and gets back on his knees.

You have to push him away.

It's the only way it stops. When your clit is raw and swollen and every flick of his tongue makes you flinch, you press your palm against his forehead and shove. He resists at first, whining against your skin, trying to chase your taste as you pull back. "No," you say, breathless. "Michael. Stop."

And he does. But only because you said so. Only because your voice has that edge of finality that he can't ignore.

He sits back on his heels, chin wet, lips red and puffy, eyes glazed. His breathing is ragged, and there's a smear of your arousal across his cheek. He licks his lips slowly, savoring the last traces.

"Sorry," he says again, but his voice is thick. He's not sorry. He's already thinking about the next time, counting the hours until he can taste you again.

He crawls up the bed and curls against you, pressing his face into your neck. His hand is still wet, still slick with your juices, and he brings his fingers to his mouth, sucking them clean one by one. His eyes close. He's content. Sated. But only for now.

Because tomorrow morning, before the sun rises, he'll be between your thighs again. His tongue will find your clit before you're fully awake. His mouth will seal over you, and he'll hum in satisfaction, drinking you down like a man dying of thirst.

And he'll whisper, half to himself, half to you: "Not my fault you taste so sweet."

He says it like a prayer. Like a confession. Like the truest thing he's ever known.

————————————————————————

Michaels’s nerves were through the roof.

And I guess you noticed, because you slightly squeezed his hand, standing outside your front door.

“They’re gonna love you, i mean everybody loves you but they’re gonna loveee you.” You giggled, your thumb sending slight massages to his hand. You looked up at him, he slightly picked his afro.

“Yeah, yeah I know.” He mumbled, now turning to face you. “I just don’t wanna mess up.”

“You can’t mess up, i don’t think it’s even like… hardwired in your system or whatever.” You say, your hands going to fix the collar of the button-up he had on. You just walk in, smile, greet everybody, and talk. “

“Yeah, yeah.. okay.” He shyly smiled, turning back to face the door.

“You’re great.” You grinned, now finally opening your front door.

When you opened the door, almost every family member you can think of was inside, and the crazy part is? There’s more in the backyard, and in the pool.

“Hi uncle, Hi Donte.” You smiled, walking over and bending down to give him a hug, music rushing through all over the house.

“Hey my baby.” Your uncle pushed out, still playing dominos as he sat on the couch.

“Hey lil cuz!” Donte chuckled out, standing up on his own two feet, pulling you in for a hug, before his eyes landed on Michael.

“….Whos this?” His tone dropped, which made Michael shrivel up inside.

“Oh! This is the guy I always talk about, my boyfriend?”

Didn’t ring a bell.

“….The singer one? The one who sung “All I do is think of you”? Him.”

“Ohhhhh! Ole singer guy!” Donte grinned, going up to Michael and giving him a quick hug to, which Michael tried to recripocrate, but everything was too fast.

“Not even gonna lie, i thought you were lying about that.” Donte said, looking away now.

“Why would I—?… mmkay, nevermind.” You mumbled, now grabbing Michael’s hand, tugging him to the backyard by his hand, making sure to wave at family you passed by.

-

When you arrived outside , you noticed a whole bunch more family, aunties, uncles, cousins, family friends, a grandma or two, it was packed. Your eyes met to your mommy, whose eyes also landed on Michael. She was shocked, Michael Jackson was actually here, I mean, she knew who Michael was, that was practically her baby until he moved to Los Angeles, but he’d gotten so big.

“Mikey!” Your mommy exclaimed, running over and pinching his cheeks.

“Hi, Mrs. L/N!”Michael smiled back, his hands stiff on his sides, as your dad came over. “You look amazing! Did you age while I was gone?” Michael tried to flatter your mom, which was obviously working.

When your dad arrived, he stopped right in his tracks.

“That’s Michael?” Your dad’s face turned up. “Boyyy you big as hell!” Your dad laughed, a hand going on Michael’s shoulder.

You grinned silently, still on Michael’s side as he interacted with your parents. With your family, he felt like a whole different person, himself. He wasn’t Michael, performing on stage, being used for a profit, hard studio shifts, rough dance rehearsals, no. Here, he felt like Michael, not Michael Jackson. That’s why he loved it over here, he loved visiting your house, hanging with you and your parents like a second child. It was why he loved you, you treated him differently from whatever the world or the media saw.

“Mommy, can we go change to get in the pool?” You barged in, grabbing Michael’s hand again.

“Yeah, of course sweetie.” She smiled, shooing you two off.

—

The water was freezing, the coolness immediately sending a shock to your whole body. Some of your little cousins and family friends were already in there, in a middle of a game of “Marco Polo.”

“Get in, baby!” Michael giggled, his hands reaching out to you, he was already waist deep in the pool, on the shallow end.

“It’s cold.” You murmur, your foot still grazing the shallow end, “Plus, ion wanna get my hair wet, i just came to put my feet in.”

“You put on a whole baiting suit, just to get only your feet wet?”

“Yes.”

“Bull.”

“Not bull.”

“Get in.”

You sighed, taking a step into the pool, your ankles in now.

“I’m in.” You sighed, you swore your feet could’ve had frost bite.

“… Y/N. Alllll the way in.” He giggled, going to the ledge where you were standing, going to grab your hand.

“I don’t want to get all the way in! It’s cold!” You giggled, now looking up at him.

“Scary.” He mumbled, his hands going to your waist, tugging your body in the water deeper. “See? Not that bad.” He giggled. You couldn’t help but feel a certain way when he grabbed your waist, it wasn’t the first time he did this, but right now it felt way more different, maybe it was the lack of clothes? Maybe it was the way he talked you through the water, you didn’t know, but you quickly tried to push it off, anyways, you were in the water, stiff? yeah, but you were in there.

—

You guys were wrapped in towels, he sat in the lawn chair, as you sat on the arm of it, eating your hotdogs that your uncle grilled up.

“Yo… i cannot imagine eating a boiled hot dog, it just feels so weird.” You mumble, examining the hotdog in a “how does it taste so good” way.

“Yeah, because you just eat plain hotdogs.” Michael said, holding the hotdog in his hand, ketchup and mustard drizzled on it.

“I hate condiments, they smell weird.”

You shivered, the sun was setting a bit, the air getting cooler now.

“You cold?” Michael asked, his head tilting a bit, his wet afro slashing the wetness towards you, not on purpose, of course.”

“Kinda.” You said, another shiver running though your body, this time, much more evident.

Michael quietly opened up his arm, the towel holding up with it like a wing, as you silently scooted closer to him, sitting on his thigh, leaning into him as he covered you both with the blanket.

—

Some time passed, about 10 minutes of you and Michael sitting in silence, watching your family move around, play games, listen to music, swim in the pool.

All of a sudden.

“Y/N! Cmere real quick!” Your cousins called over, all sitting in a circle, they were about the ages of 21-24, you grew up with them, but you were the youngest out of all of them, turning 20 in a couple of days.

“Bring boyfriend over here too!” Another one yelled, as you and Michael walked over there, hand in hand.

“…You guys drink?”

“..I’m 19.”

“So?” Your cousin responded, giggling. She was probably already a little tipsy.

“What about boyfriend?”

“He’s 20.”

“Double so?”

“No.”

“Just take a sip! I promise i won’t tell!” She leaned back in her chair, holding a cup up, what was she? About 23? trying to get a couple of underage kids to drink?

“…What even is it?” You mumble, looking at the bottle.

“That good shit.” Is all your cousin giggled out, trying to tip it in your mouth.

“No-“

“I’ll give you both 10$??”

“Still no?-“ Michael said, standing his ground before he got cut off.

“I’ll do it.” You say.

Damn, is that all it took? A bribe.

“Baby, no.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“Your 19!”

“I’ll be fine!”

You smile, first off, you were terrified, but you didn’t want to look like a pussy to your cousins, plus 10$ is 10$.

You grab the bottle, taking a quick swig out of it, your face immediately scrunching up.

“Ew, what is that shit?”

“Drink moreee!” They honestly just wanted to see you drunk, it was probably gonna be hilarious.

“No!-“

“How about a 20$?”

You grab the bottle, going for another small swig, but this time, your cousins hold it up to your mouth longer. “More- moreee!” Your cousins giggled, as you pulled away, drinking a lot more than attended.

“That wasn’t right.” You giggle, snatching the 20$ from your cousins hand, quickly going back to your chair, Michael quietly following you behind.

This wasn’t gonna turn out good.

It didn’t take long for the liquor to kick in, everything became more oozy, more calming, and Micheal confusingly became way more sexier. And, you suddenly couldn’t keep your thoughts to yourself.

“Goddam..” You muttered, looking at him now, to where his face scrunched up.

“What..? What happened?” he says, tilting his head to look at you more closely.

“….Have I ever told you how good-looking you are?” You slur, your hand going to his thigh.

“..Y/N, no.”

“What, baby? What’s wrongggg?” You whined, your hands going around his waist, leaning against him.

Michael didn’t know how to feel, this was your first time getting drunk, first time being all touchy-feely bold like this. Hes about 90% sure he was getting turned on though.

“You’re drunk.”

“So am nottt.”

“…I’m not gonna argue with you about this.”

“Baby..” You slurred out again, a finger going to poke at his fingers, then lowering down to his swim trunks, going to the waistband. “what’s under these?” You giggle to yourself, trying to tug the waistband forward so you can get a peek.

“Nope-“ Michael jumped up from the pool deck, grabbing you by your hands. “Baby it’s time for bed.”

“What?! It’s only like… 10.” You whined, letting him drag you back into the house, up the stairs to your room.

It still looked the same from how it looked the last time he was here, just less stuff inside, since you moved some of your stuff out of here, to your college dorm.

“…You gotta shower, Y/N.”

“…You gonna come in here with me?” You smiled drunkly, licking your lips as your hands balanced on his hips.

“No, i’ll shower after you.”

“Whyyyy nottt!”

“Because, baby! You’re drunk! And we’ve never did nothing like that before..”

“…You’re uncomfortable?” You mumble, it looked like you had sobered up just to say that sentence, making sure you weren’t scaring off Michael in the slightest say.

“No! Not at all! I just—“

He was quickly interrupted, your hands pushing him onto your twin size bed, going to sit on his lap, his head hitting the pillow.

“Y/N, baby, please.” Michael mumbled, his hands going to your waist to leverage the weight of what’s going on.

“s-shhh.. i’ll just do it.. make you feel good, promise.” You whispered, your lips going to his jaw, down his throat.

“W-what? Y/N—“ Michael started, immediately cutting himself off as a soft moan escaped his lips, looking down at your hands, softly palming his already semi- hard dick.

“…Tell me to stop, and i’ll stop.” You whisper, your lips still attacking his neck, as your hand continued its ministrations.

“n-no.. don’t stop.” He whined, his hips uncontrollably bucking into your hand.

—

After making out for a while, you realized you wanted more, you wanted something you’ve never had from him before.

You think you’re ready.

“..Mikey.” You mumble, your speech clearing up a bit now, getting a tinsy bit more sober.

“Hm..?” He mumbled, his glare at you lovingly, he was enjoying every second of this, no matter how much he tried to act like he wasn’t.

“..I think- i think i’m ready.” You whisper, your voice low enough for only you and him to hear, even though nobody else was him the room.

“N-no.. baby, you’re drunk.”

“Not really anymore! Plus.. I- i’ve been thinking about this for a while, i just—.. i didn’t know how to bring it up, but I really want it.” You whine, rubbing your hands up and down his chest.

“Please..? I just want to make you feel good.”

You finished off with, a small glare on your face, you prayed he said yes.

“…Okay.” He mumbled.

“Okay?” You repeated back with glee.

“Mhm..” He sighed, he was honestly scared of hurting you, he didn’t want to move to fast, to ruin the moment, but he was willing to give it a try.

“Thank you sooo much, baby… promise to make it feel good.” You smile, going back to attacking his neck.

—

Michael held your waist as you aligned yourself with his tip, it was already leaking pre-cum, due to the earlier arosual he had going on, the blanket covering you both, just incase if anyone tried to barge in.

“S-slow, baby… slow.” He whispered, his hips still guiding you down as you sunk down, a loud whimper leaving your lips, you obviously didn’t care who heard you in your drunken state, i guess… i mean who cares if almost everyone in your family is downstairs?

“Shhh… gotta be a little quiet, don’t wanna get introuble.” Michael whispered, pushing himself up to lean against the head board a little, just for a better look up at you.

You finally sunk all the way down, Michael being balls deep inside of you, your back arched, gripping onto his shoulders, your head leaning on him, mouth agape, but nothing coming out.

“y-you okay?” Michael whisper-moaned out, his hands still on your waist, not yet moving you, since he didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.

“S-so good… m-move me please, baby.” You whispered in his ear, your legs already shaking at the sensation.

Michael let out a shaky breath, his hands tightening on your up waist, bringing your body up and down on his dick, he couldn’t help but let out a couple of soft moans himself, the sensation overall new to him.

“y-you’re making me feel so good.” Michael whispered, more to himself than you, watching as your bodies connected, a slight rhythm forming as Michael slowly started fucking himself up into you slowly.

“C-close.” You whimpered, the new rhythm, sending whole new waves of pleasure your fingers could’ve never delivered.

“Y-yeah.. i’m almost there, too, okay?” He moaned out, looking up at now, the sight was so beautiful, something he could never imagine, he wish he could take a picture of you, just like this, and keep it in his pocket, all worked up, and eager.. It was something he never knew he needed.

You guys were just about to reach your peak, until the door swung open.

Your big brother.

“Mommy said come down and light this fire—..”

He stopped in his tracks, you immediately hopped off Michael, using the blanket to cover your lower half’s, the top half still being covered by your baiting suit.

“W-what?! Get out!” You yelled, throwing a pillow.

“The hells going on in here?!” Your brother shrieked, chuckling a little.

“Nothing! It was just… like… i had to pop a pimple on his face..?”

“Bullshit.”

“Get out!” You threw a pillow at the door, before your brother quickly slammed it. Your hands immediately going to your face, a sigh of embarrassment leaving your lips.

“…I’m sorry. He just like, really killed the vibe.” You mumbled, looking at the blank wall.

“…Baby, it’s fine.” Michael sighed, leaving a kiss on your forehead, sitting up with you now. “Wait… that was {Your brothers name}?” Michael said, shockingly, trying to change the subject to something more light hearted. “Did he grow like 5 inches? And-.. and when did he get a beard?” He chuckled to you, which immediately got you out your funk, chuckling with him.

“Apparently, grew 5 inches and now doesn’t know how to knock.” You said slickly, before looking back at him. “…And I was so close too.” You mumbled, finally looking back at Michael.

“Well…. you wanna finish?”

————————————————————————

okay guys how do we feel abt thisss?!?! this was my FIRST time writing smut soo like if it’s horrible don’t kill me pls !!

Also this took abt like 2 days, i have like 3 other fics i have to finish, plus i wanna start on some moreeee !! 🤍🤍

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You kept catching him looking at you.

Michael’s eyes would flick away quickly, acting like nothing was amiss. Which, technically, nothing was. The two of you were sitting on the floor leaning against his bed while watching a movie, a typical Sunday night in the Jackson household when things got calm for a rare moment.

You had thought he sounded a little off when he had called you to come over, but you couldn’t quite put your finger on what.

Nervous didn’t really feel like the right word. Perhaps because you couldn’t think of a single reason why he would be. That very small and delusional voice in the back of your head whispered he was going to confess his feelings for you— but that would be insane.

The two of you had been friends for a while now after getting introduced to each other by a few mutual people and you had clicked.

It was easy, being around him. He probably had the same sentiments considering he still called you to hang out whenever he got a moment of down time.

When you caught him looking at you again, you decided to bite the bullet and nudge his knee with yours.

“You okay?”

“What? Yeah, fine.” He rushed. A little too quickly, in your opinion.

Your eyes narrowed. “Michael.”

His eyes slated to look at you for a moment, attempting to keep up the facade, but something in your expression made him cave.

With a sigh, he lowered the volume on the movie and turned toward you, suddenly beat red in the face and your mind was running a million miles an hour.

“I have a question,” he slowly started. Wringing his hands in his lap and suddenly not looking at you at all even though earlier he couldn’t seem to help himself.

Your eyes flicked over him, trying to get a read on what could possibly be going on but you came up blank. “Okay.”

“I…” Michael blew some air out of his mouth and suddenly laughed while looking at the ceiling. “God, this is crazy. Okay, so I, I uh… I need help with something.”

Your brows furrowed. “Okay?”

“It’s complicated and probably crossing some sort of line… and it’s also completely okay if you say no. I just want you to know first that this is in no way me trying to take advantage or trying to ruin anything. And I want you to know that I’m asking because I trust you and feel safe with you and I feel like you also feel the same way. I mean, I hope you do.” You could tell he just wanted to spit it out but looked as though he would vomit if he tried to before he was ready.

Leaning over to grab his hands, half in comfort and half to get him to stop twisting his fingers around, you gave his hands a supportive squeeze. “I do. And whatever you need help with, just know there is no judgement.”

He raised a brow at you, unsure. “None?”

“None whatsoever.”

Michael didn’t seem convinced so you held up your hand, “pinky promise.”

That got him to laugh a little bit, just a small amount of tension easing out of his shoulders as he locked pinkies with you to seal the deal.

He then let out a slow breath, eyes dancing back up to the ceiling as if in a silent prayer before he looked back at you. When his teeth sunk into his bottom lip for a moment you couldn’t help but look.

“I need to know how to go down a girl.”

You blinked.

“Pardon?”

He then covered his face with his hands, clearly embarrassed. “I knew I shouldn't have—“

“No, no, it’s just I wasn’t… I don’t know what I was expecting.” You pulled his hands from his face, your own cheeks their own deep shade of red. “It’s just, I mean— why me? What do you need to know? Do you want a bullet point list or a diagram—“

“I tried all that.”

“On a girl?” It slipped out before you thought better of it. Your envious curiosity being your downfall. You had absolutely no desire to hear about other girls he might’ve been with.

“No, the lists and diagrams, they just didn’t seem informative enough.” He said it slowly and wasn’t looking at you again.

It took an embarrassingly long moment for you to realize to what scale he was asking you to help him.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

You hummed, leaning back on your palms as your mind and heart tried to get each other to calm down. “I see.”

Seconds ticked by. All you could hear was your heartbeat and Michael started going a little blurry at the edges of your vision as flashes of dreams you’ve had flicked through your mind.

Dreams one definitely should not have about their friend.

“So?”

You crossed your legs, wishing for those things in your head to go away but then panic started bubbling up in your chest. “I mean… yes? Sure, but do you mean now?”

“No no no, there’s not really a timeline. Whenever you’re ready and comfortable. Are you positive this is okay?”

More than okay, actually. “Of course, just… helping a friend out.”

He laughed as he looked down, “right.”

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Well, fuck.

As soon as he shut the car door for you and it disappeared down the driveway, he felt like he could finally breathe again.

He felt like he had been on the brink of passing out the last two hours.

In all honesty, he was surprised he had even gotten the words out.

The idea had popped into his head a while ago, something he was ashamed but also intrigued by. He just heard things, stuff around him being discussed that piqued his interest. And then someone would ask him about his experience and he’d draw up a blank.

Even though he’s only in his twenties and lived a life worth a thousand lifetimes— he still fell short on some experiences. Mostly interpersonal or intimate.

There was also that little chirp in his head that said gaining more experience in that area would improve his song writing.

Always a working man, apparently.

And like Michael said, he had tried other avenues. Buying sex education books, published articles, magazines… but it was all too structured. Inorganic. Academic and cold.

He wanted more of a human touch, but given who he was it couldn’t just be anyone. And late one night, staring up at the ceiling as moonlight danced across his room, he thought of you.

He immediately felt ashamed about it. You were his friend, he shouldn’t be thinking about you like that. Although yes, he has admittedly found you attractive, he said he’d never go there.

But once his mind found a little footing on an idea, he couldn’t drop it.

Then the dreams started and that became a whole other hell.

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Six days had passed.

Six days of feeling like you weren’t able to breathe.

You didn’t want to admit the amount of money you dropped on getting ready for this.

For Michael Jackson to eat you out.

God, you were going to faint.

You’d been waxed, showered, body oils, your nails done, a new pair of lace panties, the whole package really. Part of you felt like it was all over kill but it was Michael fucking Jackson.

You wanted it, you, to be perfect.

And although he was the biggest star in the world, you didn’t want him to feel intimidated. Intimacy was a new field entirely and he seemed anxious enough asking you.

So you stuck with an outfit that was simple but still a little spiced up. A cute skirt and a nice top that made the girls look nice. Your hair was done up in a messy sort of up do— he had complimented it when it was like this a few weeks ago.

And to top it all off a pair of heels.

He had called you the day before, telling you to knock on the door of the studio when you got there, not wanting his family to come snooping.

So you stilled your breath, heels clicking on the ground as you neared the door.

“I can do this.”

And you knocked.

Mere heartbeats passed before you heard the lock click and the door opened.

You smiled, trying not to come off as shy as you felt when your eyes met his.

“Hi, Michael.”

He seemed slightly taken off guard, clearing his throat after a moment. “Hey.”

You felt like you were in high school all over again.

“So, where are we doing this?” You cringed at your wording.

“Right.” He was blushing again as he stepped outside and closed the door behind him. “Follow me.”

Michael sneaking you through his house provided enough of an entertaining distraction to let you relax a bit. You were just helping him out. There were no stakes. No strings. Even if you wanted there to be.

The door to his room shut softly behind him and you watched in amusement as he slowly and quietly turned the lock.

“Hopefully it’s late enough so no one will bother us.”

“I’m sure it’ll be fine, maybe just put on some music.”

“Right, good idea.”

He looked adorable as his eyes briefly flicked to yours before looking away as he began to shuffle though his records.

“You look beautiful, by the way.”

You were going to melt through the floor. “Thank you.”

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He watched you, quite intently, as you sat on the edge of his bed. Back straight and hands placed neatly in your lap.

You looked like an angel.

Your eyes were on his before flicking down briefly, messing with a bracelet you had on. “So, what do you already know? Just so I have an idea.”

He felt heat pool into his cheeks, briefly glancing at the ceiling before clearing his throat. He felt more nervous now than he did performing in front of thousands of people.

“Basics, I suppose. With oral sex for women, I’m mainly supposed to focus on the… the uh, y’know.” God, he felt aware of all of his bones. If he couldn’t even say it, how was he supposed to do it. To you.

You smiled at him, though not in any teasing way to make him retreat. “It’s funny, with stuff like this. Doing it is usually less intimidating than talking about it.”

Michael nodded, rubbing at the nape of his neck as he rolled a question around in his mind. One he couldn’t help but be curious about while also dreading to hear your answer.

But he couldn’t help it.

“Have you done this before?”

You blinked at him.

“You don’t have to answer that, I was just curious—“

“A few times. I mean, I wasn’t showing someone how to do it, like now. And they were alright, it helped me find out what I like, which is what I’ll tell you.”

Michael nodded. A little annoyed that other people had had the privilege but he decided not to dwell on the fact for now or come to terms for what that meant for him.

Your nails tapped a rhythm into your leg. “So, whenever you’re ready—“

“Can we play a game first? Just to, y’know, calm the nerves?”

Twenty minutes later the two of you were tangled up on a Twister mat. Laughing as one had to stretch uncomfortably and almost fall over.

The momentary distraction did help ease his nerves but it definitely made something else more apparent.

Your skirt was incredibly short.

You barely had to bend over for him to start seeing the subtle curve of your ass cheek meet your thigh. That sight alone was inticing… and then he saw the lace of your underwear.

Fuck me, was a statement that had been running through his mind. He tried not to look, really he did. But the thin lace was right there and not leaving much to the imagination, and then he’d remember what exactly you were here for.

Michael knew his composure was steadily unraveling and when you bent over again for your turn he cleared his throat.

“I think I’m ready.”

You stood up, brows raised slightly in surprise at his sudden statement, rouge bleeding into your cheeks.

“Okay, come here.”

And then your fingers laced with his as you walked back to the bed, sitting down on the edge of it and he was about to join you but you stopped him with your fingers hooked into his belt loops.

He looked down at you, that sight alone— that low voice in the back of his head wondering how lovely you’d look with his cock in your mouth right now…

What had gotten into him?

“Kneel.”

One word. That’s all it took, and he did as told.

Lowering to his knees in front of you, eyes on yours because he suddenly discovered he couldn’t— didn’t want to look anywhere else.

You held his gaze and you took his hands, bringing them to your knees. He got the hint, gently spreading them wider so he could slot between them easily.

Then you were laying down, his own eyes flicking lower and he could see the lace.

Really, your skirt was a pathetic excuse for a piece of sufficient clothing. Not that he minded given the circumstances.

Then his hands were dancing up, fingers dragging along your thighs and watching as goosebumps followed in the wake of his touch.

He was pushing your skirt up around your waist and when he finally got to see your underwear entirely he felt his heart skip a beat.

The bow at the top was adorable.

And you were right there… legs spread and only a thin piece of cloth hiding you away.

“Should I—“ he cleared his throat, given the words came out more hoarse than he intended. “Should I take these off?” His fingers looped on the string but you grabbed his wrist.

“Not yet.” Then you dragged his hand over, right above you and he could feel the heat rolling off you in waves. “The build up is just as important.”

He nodded, taking mental notes while he was still able to focus.

“Like you said, main point to focus on is here.”

His index and middle finger gently pressed down and he saw the muscles in your thighs twitch.

Noted.

Your breath came out a little heavier. “And if you slide down, just there, that’s the entrance. You can tease that through the lace as well.”

His fingers slid down to where you said, feeling the fabric cave in a little bit but that’s not what made him suck in a breath.

You were wet.

The lace already damp with your arousal, for him, and Michael felt the room start to tip slightly. His self restraint starting to lose its balance.

“You can choose to do it with your hands, but given what you— oh.”

He wasn’t thinking straight, or at all, lowering himself with little hesitation and his mouth latched onto your clit through your underwear.

A sound started to slip past your lips but you bit it back when he applied a rolling pressure with his tongue.

He wanted to hear it again.

His ears were ringing but he followed your instructions. Each one coming out in a more labored breath. His hands gripping onto the soft flesh of your thighs as he worked, focused, intent on hearing the way you tried to bite back whimpers.

And then he slid down, tongue teasing the entrance of your pussy as his nose brushed against your clit and you moaned.

It felt like he was hearing the trumpets of heaven and you tasted clean. Erotic. He didn’t know how else to describe it, but you were so fucking wet. Both from your own arousal and his saliva, that the lace was sticking to you like a second skin and he could almost see you. Almost.

And finally finally you told him to move your underwear to the side and when his eyes finally landed on your pussy he groaned before diving back in. Tongue tracing from your clit to your to your cunt and you tasted better than anything he had ever imagined.

Your back arched off the bed, teeth sinking into your bottom lip to hold back a shout.

“I wanna hear you,” he muttered, feeling hazy as his tongue flattened over your clit and his cock was so hard that it hurt.

You cried out, trying to muffle the sound with your hand and he almost missed the way you said his name.

He wanted to hear his name like that from your mouth for the rest of his life.

As if he were starving, his fingers dug into your thighs as he dragged his tongue down and started to fuck you with his tongue and lips and teeth. Being driven even further towards the brink of insanity every time you said more or right there.

Your hands twined into his hair, hips rolling up to meet his mouth and he was determined to make you come. To do it just right.

The thought of you making a mess all over his mouth made his cock twitch in his pants and he was half worried he’d finish right then and there like he was a teenager.

His eyes then flicked up, eyes catching yours and then you flat out moaned his name, the sound coming from your soul it seemed and he felt something in him snap.

Michael didn’t even realize what he was doing, two fingers dragging over your pussy before they slid inside, curving them to your body and you were so soft and fucking warm.

Then his fingers pressed against something textured and you would’ve flown off the bed if he hadn’t secured an arm over your hips.

The sounds in the room dancing just below the volume of the music were lewd. Sinful. Your body being contorted in pleasure as you grinded against his face.

All he could sense was you.

Then your muscles tensed, your head rolling back and God the way his name dripped off your tongue.

“Michael, I’m— I’m…”

And then you came, your pussy tightening in a pulse around his fingers and he could feel your heartbeat on his tongue.

He was lost. Completely.

Not being able to stop himself even as your legs tightened around his head. Not even as you cried it’s too much.

He wanted more like a man who had stumbled across paradise after wandering in the desert for too long.

Just too fucking thirsty.

“Michael.”

Then his lips and chin were suddenly very, very wet.

He blinked as he pulled back, meeting your wide eyes. Watching as your gaze flicked down the wetness covering the lower half of his face and you sucked in a breath.

His mind was short circuiting.

He’d read about when a woman does that, though not super often and Michael hadn’t even let it occur to mind that he could make someone do that.

Make you do that.

“Oh my God, I’m sorry. I didn’t even know I could—“

He felt like his common sense had taken a seat in the back of his mind because next thing he knew he was pushing you back onto the bed, crawling over you and lips crashing into yours. Hips rolling with a mind of their own and that first sensation of warmth and pressure against his cock even through his slacks made him shiver.

It was messy and wonderful. Teeth hitting against each other and tongues sliding in their own dance.

Your hands fumbled with his zipper and then—

“Fuck,” Michael’s face fell into the crook of your neck when he felt your hand wrap around him.

Your hand dragged up along the shaft, thumb swiping against his tip that had been leaking pre-come for who knew how long and he shuddered against you, hips seeking out more as he thrusted into your hand.

He was in such a lust induced haze he felt like the world wasn’t even real anymore. Just you and him and the edge heaven at the tips of his fingers.

It wasn’t enough. Not nearly.

Michael was desperate. His hips rolling in search of more and he accidentally slid the tip of his cock right up along your pussy. Gathering wetness and you were just so fucking warm— he wasn’t thinking. Honestly, he wasn’t.

His mouth met yours again and then his hips lowered, cock sliding in instead of up and he felt whatever willpower he had break.

You felt so fucking good and then you moaned and before the next breath he was in all the way to tne hilt.

His heavy lidded eyes met your own and when he slowly dragged out, watching in fascination as your pupils expanded into pools of ink with your mouth dropped open… who was he to put a stop to this?

So he thrusted back in. Back out. Slow and deliberate and so fucking wonderful.

“You feel like heaven,” his words came out broken, his own moan fracturing his speech.

His name left your lips in a cry, your legs wrapped around his hips and deeper he went. He wanted to go deeper in ways that weren’t physically possible and his eyes flicked down. Seeing the way your pussy took him so well and he didn’t even feel human right now.

Michael’s thrust became harder and his pace quickened into something more erratic and wild, mouth on yours, sloppy and wet and when he felt you tighten around him as you came again he tipped right over the edge with you.

Seeing stars behind his eyes as he came and he couldn’t stop. Something in his soul begging him to keep going. Making sure he got all of it inside of you, not a drop wasted because it really would’ve been such a fucking waste.

After what felt like a daydream finally concluding, Michael collapsed on top of you. Breathing heavy and his heartbeat so loud he felt like he was underwater.

Your arms were still wrapped around him as he settled between your thighs and against your chest, trying to catch your breath.

Your bodies were covered in sweat that made the air a bit cool against the skin and when he shivered, both from the temperature and his body coming down from the shock of pleasure, did it dawn on Michael of what exactly he just did.

God forgive me.

Slowly, he raised himself up on his arms, not being able to help himself as he watched his cock pull out, both of your releases covering him and seeping out of you. It was probably the hottest thing he’d ever seen but it wasn’t enough to overshadow the reality of what he’d just done.

“I didn’t mean to—“

“Michael, that was…” you blinked up at the ceiling. Looking fucked out and like an angel in his bed sheets. “Wow.”

He blushed, despite what he just did to you. Michael didn’t regret it, that he was sure of. In fact, he knew he wanted to do it again.

“I think I still need some more practice.” He muttered, leaning down to catch your lips with his and you hummed.

“Agreed. Same time next Sunday?”

He shook his head as he pulled back, teeth catching onto your bottom lip. “I was thinking tomorrow.”

michael jackson masterlist

taglist: @solarrandom @mjssluttyfish @sometranslationnoteru @tojiswifeforlife

The drive to Hayvenhurst is smooth. Michael drums his fingers lightly on the steering wheel, humming along to the melody playing from the radio. You glance over at him, noticing the way his lips curl into a faint smile, a mix of excitement and contentment washing over his features. It’s been a while since you last visited his family home and he’s been eager to bring you back for a weekend. The second you both step out of the car, the front door swings open, and Katherine emerges with a smile.

“Oh, my baby!” she exclaims, her arms outstretched as she rushes towards you.

Before you can even react, you’re enveloped in the warmth of her hug. You chuckle as she squeezes you tightly, her joy at seeing you again unmistakable. Meanwhile, Michael stands beside you, his arms crossed over his chest, a playful pout forming on his lips.

“wow, ma,” he says, feigning offense. “You’re just gonna act like I’m not even here?”

Katherine pulls back just enough to give him a teasing glance. “Boy, hush! You see me all the time. Let me love on my daughter-in-law,” she says with a wink in your direction, making you giggle.

Michael clutches his chest dramatically. “This betrayal... It cuts deep.”

Katherine shakes her head, chuckling. “Oh, stop it. Come on inside, both of you. Everybody’s waiting.”

Inside, the house is buzzing with energy. The moment you step into the living room, you're met with warm greetings from all of Michael’s siblings. Janet practically launches herself into a hug with you, grinning ear to ear, while the rest of the family chime in with their own welcomes. 

“Y’all finally made it!” Janet grins.

You smile as you let go of his hand, already spotting Katherine and Rebbie making their way to the kitchen. You follow without hesitation, knowing the heart of the house is always where the food is being made.

Soon enough, you find yourself catching up with the Jackson women. Michael stays back in the living room with his brothers, lounging comfortably as they fall into their usual banter. It doesn’t take long before the conversation shifts to him—specifically, you.

“So,” Tito starts, stretching his legs out. “How’s life with your girl?”

Michael sighs, rubbing his face. “Y’all do this every time.”

Jackie laughs. “Because it’s funny.”

“How’s my little brother holdin’ up with all that ass?” Marlon teases, smirking as he leans back on the couch.

The room erupts in laughter while Michael simply exhales sharply, shaking his head. “You are a bunch of fools.”

“Come on, Mike, tell us,” Randy goads. “You know you’re whipped.”

Michael rolls his eyes, but there’s a flush creeping up his neck. “You guys are just jealous. It's not my fault I found the one and you’re still out here fumbling.”

“Mhm,” Marlon hums knowingly. “Yeah, right.”

Michael just smirks, knowing there’s no point in arguing. He lets them talk their mess, already used to it. But as the conversation keeps going, he notices Jermaine watching him a little too closely, his curiosity sharper than the rest.

“So, Mike,” Jermaine starts, leaning forward slightly. “What’s she like?”

Michael raises a brow, his expression neutral but his mind alert. “What do you mean?”

Jermaine shrugs, keeping his tone casual. “I mean, she’s fine as hell, we all see that. But I’m trying to figure out if she’s as sweet in the sheets as she is in the streets.”

The playful ribbing from earlier had been all in good fun, but something about Jermaine’s tone rubs Michael the wrong way. 

Michael exhales through his nose and sits up a little straighter. “You’re real invested in what me and my girl do, huh?” His brothers go quiet, sensing the shift in energy.

Jermaine chuckles, trying to play it off. “Gee, can’t a brother just be curious?”

Michael narrows his eyes. “no, not like that.”

Jermaine puts his hands up in mock surrender. “Alright, alright. Just saying... you’re a lucky man.”

Michael doesn’t respond right away. He just studies Jermaine for a moment longer before replying. “Yeah. I know.” Michael shifts in his seat, his jaw tightening. He’s used to the raunchy turn their conversations often take—years of touring and late-night talks have desensitized him to it—but something about Jermaine’s focus on you feels different. Too specific. Too eager. 

The conversation moves on, but Michael keeps a mental note. He doesn’t say anything else, doesn’t start no drama, but he watches Jermaine a little closer for the rest of the night. He knows his brother, and he knows when somebody is looking a little too hard at what’s his.

After a morning of catching up over a light lunch everyone agrees it’s the perfect day for a lazy poolside hangout. Chatter spills from the dining room as Michael’s siblings scatter to change, their voices echoing through the halls. You two slip away to his bedroom upstairs with faded posters of James Brown and Stevie Wonder pinned to the walls.

The midday sun filters through the blinds as you stand in front of the mirror, adjusting your bikini bottoms. The faintest scent of his cologne lingers in the air, making the space feel intimate. Behind you, he tugs at the strings of your bikini top, fingers brushing your bare back as he ties the knot securely.

His touch is gentle, yet there’s a slight hesitation in the way his fingers linger a second too long. You glance at his reflection in the mirror in front of you, catching the slight furrow in his brow. His usually warm brown eyes seem distant, clouded with something unreadable.

“Is something wrong?” you ask, tilting your head slightly.

Michael blinks, as if snapped out of deep thought, and shrugs like it’s nothing. “It’s fine,” he mutters before leaning down to press a soft kiss to your shoulder, but even then, you feel the tension in the way his lips press firmly into your skin, like he’s holding something back.

You turn to face him fully, giving him a knowing look. “Michael, I know when something is on your mind.”

He exhales through his nose, dark curls bouncing slightly as he shakes his head. Instead of answering, his hands slide to your waist, fingers kneading and pawing at your soft skin, thumbs rubbing circles against your hips. 

“You sure you wanna wear this?” he asks, tugging at the fabric of your bikini, his voice just above a whisper.

You chuckle, reaching up to brush his curls out of his face. “Yeah, why not? It’s just your family. No strangers here.”

He hums in response, still looking at you like he isn't convinced. His grip on your waist tightens slightly before he finally lets go, stepping back as you finish getting ready.

—

By the time you make it to the pool, the rest of the family is already settled in. You sink onto one of the poolside loungers, stretching out with a satisfied sigh, sipping on a glass of fresh lemonade.

Michael sits beside you, one arm draped over the back of your chair, his fingers idly tracing shapes on your shoulder. He’s relaxed, at least outwardly, but you don’t notice the way his eyes subtly track Jermaine, who’s lounging across the pool deck.

Jermaine thinks he’s being discreet. 

He isn’t.

His gaze is hungry, fixated on the way your bikini clings to your body, how little fabric is actually covering you. His glances are subtle, but Michael clocks every single one. Jermaine’s lips curve into a faint smile and he adjusts his posture, spreading his legs a bit wider as if settling in to enjoy the view.

Most eventually make their way into the pool, splashing and laughing, but Jermaine stays put, seated on the pool’s edge, his feet lazily kicking through the water. Michael notices the way his eyes flicks toward you every so often, how he watches, waiting.

And then it clicks.

Jermaine isn’t just staring, he’s hoping. Hoping that when the pool’s gentle waves roll through, they’ll shift your bikini top just enough for a quick glimpse, a moment of indiscretion.

Michael feels a slow burn in his chest, a tight coil of possessiveness winding its way through his body. He moves without thinking, his arm reaching over to fuss with your top, adjusting the straps, pulling at the fabric to make sure it covers more. each tug a silent message that only he and Jermaine can understand.

You glance at him, confused. “What are you-”

“Just fixing it,” he mumbles.

Your brows knit together, but you don’t question it further, letting him continue his subtle display of dominance. He traces his hands down your arms before resting his palm on your thigh possessively.

After a bit his shoulders relax and his breath steadies as he watches Janet and Marlon argue and splash water on each other. the tension from earlier seeming to fade. But then his eyes shift  across the pool and that calm shatters like glass.

Jermaine’s staring at you again, drooling practically. The wet fabric of your bottoms clings to you, outlining your pussy perfectly under the thin material. Then he sees it, Jermaine’s swim trunks tented, his hard on straining against the fabric, shameless and blatant. Michael’s blood ignites, a seething heat surging through him, and his fingers curl into fists against the pool deck. 

He’s been patient, too patient, swallowing the urge to confront him in front of everyone. But this? This is too far. The audacity, the disrespect, the way Jermaine’s practically undressing you with his eyes—it’s a violation and Michael’s not having it.

He doesn’t say a word. Doesn’t even hesitate. In one fluid motion, he’s on his feet, snatching your wrist and pulling you up with him. “Come on,” he snaps, his voice cutting through the hum of the poolside noise. You stumble slightly, caught off guard, water dripping from your legs as he drags you away from the edge.

“Mike..what-” you start, but he’s already moving, his grip firm as he hauls you toward the house. The others glance over, confusion flickering across their faces and Rebbie calls out, “Everything alright?” from her spot under the umbrella. Michael doesn’t answer, doesn’t even look back, his strides long and purposeful as he pulls you through the doors and up the stairs.

The hallway blurs past and he shoves open the door to his bedroom. It swings inward, stopping just short of closing, the latch catching slightly ajar, but he doesn’t care. Before you can get a word out, he spins you around, his hands on your hips, and bends you over the edge of the bed with a force that steals your breath.

“Michael!” you gasp, your palms hitting the sheets, the fabric soft against your skin. He’s behind you in an instant, his chest pressed to your back, his hands sliding down to spread your legs wide. The wet bikini top digs into your ribs, droplets falling from your body and soaking into the quilt. His breath is hot and uneven against your neck.

“How dare he,” he mutters, the words barely audible, laced with venom. His fingers dig into your thighs, holding you in place, and you twist your head slightly, trying to see his face.

“huh?” you stammer, confusion evident due to his sudden intensity, but he cuts you off, his hands moving to the ties of your bikini bottoms. He yanks at them, the knots giving way with a sharp tug, and the wet fabric tears free, sliding down your legs to pool on the floor. You shiver as the air hits your bare skin, goosebumps prickling up your spine.

“He thinks he can have what’s mine,” Michael snarls, his voice trembling with anger, his fingers trembling too as they graze your hips. 

“Knew he was jealous, but this? This is just pathetic.” He’s mumbling now, half to himself, the words spilling out like a dam breaking. 

You try to lift your head. “what are you talking about?” you manage, breathless, your heart pounding against your ribs.

But he doesn’t answer—not with words. His fingers find your sensitive nub, brushing against it with a possessive touch, and a jolt shoots through you, your body arching instinctively. “This pussy’s mine,” he says. “Ain’t nobody else’s. You hear me?”

You nod, or try to, your face smushed into the sheets, your breath hitching as his touch sends sparks racing up your spine. “Y-yes,” you whimper, the word muffled, your hands clutching at the quilt for leverage. The droplets from your wet hair and skin keep falling, soaking the bed in little dark spots, but it’s irrelevant. Everything's irrelevant except the heat of him behind you.

He leans over you, his chest pressing against your back. “Saw him staring at you,” he says. 

“Like he could ever deserve you. Like he could even dream of touching you.” His fingers move faster, coaxing a moan from your lips, your hips rocking back against him. “He’s got no business looking at my wife like that.”

The pieces click into place—Jermaine’s lingering stares, the way Michael’s been on edge all day. You want to say something, to reassure him, but his fingers are relentless, driving away coherent thoughts from your mind.

“Michael, I didn’t-” you start, but he shushes you, his fingers slipping, teasing your slick opening.

“Oh no, baby, not your fault. Never.” he cuts in, his tone softening slightly as he kisses the back of your neck.

“You didn’t do anything. It’s him. disrespecting me, disrespecting us.” His hand tightens on your hip and he pulls you back against him, his long fingers teasingly sinking inside you, two at once, stretching you with a claiming slide. You mewl, your knees buckling slightly, but he holds you up.

“Mine,” he mutters again, almost a mantra, as he pumps his fingers deeper, curling them just right. Your body responds instantly, a wave of pleasure crashing over you, and you bite your lip to stifle the sound, your face buried in the sheets.

Michael’s fingers, sticky and glistening with your arousal, slowly withdraw from your pulsing core, leaving you trembling against the damp quilt. His breathing is heavy, his chest rising and falling as he stares at his hand, his wedding band catching the dim light, coated in your juices. A low groan rumbles in his throat as he brings his fingers to his lips. His eyes flutter shut, lashes dark against his skin, as he licks them hungrily, savoring your taste like it’s the sweetest thing he’s ever had. 

“Goddamn, baby,” he murmurs, his voice thick with desire, “you taste so fuckin’ good.”

You’re catching your breath but he’s not done with you, not even close. He steps back, his hands moving to his swim trunks, and with a quick tug he shoves them down, letting them pool at his feet. His cock springs free, thick and heavy, bobbing slightly as it stands proud, the sight of it enough to make your mouth water if you weren’t so overwhelmed. The bulbous tip glistens faintly and you can’t help but feel a fresh wave of desire coil in your belly, even as your eyes wander elsewhere.

Through the open window, the sounds of the family drift in. The noises pull you out of the haze for a moment, your face heating up as the reality of where you are sinks in. Michael’s about to take you apart while his entire family is just outside, blissfully unaware—or so you hope. The thought sends a flush of embarrassment and thrill through you, your heart pounding as you imagine someone hearing, someone knowing.

But he’s not letting your mind wander for long. He steps closer and you feel the warm head of his cock press against your wet entrance teasingly. “Eyes on me, baby,” he says, his voice low and authoritative, snapping your attention back to him. His hands grip your hips, steadying you as he slides his length along your folds, not entering yet, just letting you feel the weight of him, the promise of what’s coming. “Don’t you go thinking about them out there. This is about us.”

“They're so close…” you whisper.

“Let them be,” he says, his tone almost defiant. “You’re mine right now.” He pushes forward, the tip of his cock breaching you, invading your soaked pussy with a slow thrust. You gasp, your body tensing at the stretch, your gooey walls fluttering as they adjust to his girth. He’s big, impossibly so, and the sensation is overwhelming, a delicious burn that has your nails digging into the fabric.

“Jesus,” he grunts, his voice low and strained as he sinks deeper, inch by agonizing inch. “This pussy’s gripping me so tight, like it knows who it belongs to.” His hands tighten on your skin as he bottoms out, his hips flush against your ass. You exhale shakily, your body trembling as you adjust to the fullness, the way he fills every part of you, leaving no room for anything else.

“My girl,” he whispers under his breath, almost to himself, his voice dripping with possession. He pulls back slightly, then grinds his body forward, plunging his meaty cock back into your glistening cunt. You moan and you bite your lip, suddenly hyper-aware of the open window.

“Shh,” he says, but there’s a hint of something reckless in his voice. “Gotta stay quiet, baby. Don’t want them hearing how good I’m making you feel.” But the way he says it, the way his hips snap against you, harder now, tells you he doesn’t care as much as he’s letting on. 

Each thrust is deep, animalistic, his cock dragging along your sensitive walls, hitting spots that make your vision blur. “Michael,” you whimper, your voice muffled but desperate, “they’re gonna hear…”

“Don't care” he growls, his hands sliding up your sides, one gripping your shoulder for leverage as he thrusts harder, deeper. “Let him hear.” Each word is punctuated by a thrust that makes your body jolt forward, your hands scrambling for purchase on the quilt. 

“He doesn’t get to dream about this. Doesn’t get to imagine touching you. This is all mine.” You whimper, unable to hold it back. The laughter and splashing seem louder now, closer, and you can’t tell if it’s your imagination or if someone’s wandered nearer to the house.

He leans down, his chest pressed against your back, his lips brushing your ear as he whispers, ““Feel that, sweetheart? That’s what real love feels like, what you’ll only ever get from me.” His hand slides around to your front, his fingers finding your clit again, circling it in time with his pace, and you cry out.

You’re lost in a bubble of pleasure. Your body is trembling beneath Michael as he drives into you, his breath hot against your neck. Your heart is pounding in sync with his as he savors the way you squeeze around him. Every slow pump drags the veins of his cock against your sensitive walls.

But something shifts. Michael’s rhythm falters, his body tensing against yours, and you feel the change before you understand it. His pace slows to a torturous, teasing roll. You’re too caught up in the sensation to notice what’s caught his attention, but his head turns slightly as he squints toward the door, a sliver of light spilling through it. There, in the shadowed hallway, a silhouette moves, unmistakable even in the dim light.

 It’s Jermaine.

He catches his brother’s pathetic display. Jermaine’s hand is wrapped around his smaller cock, jerking himself desperately, his eyes glued to your body, to the way Michael’s hips move against yours. The sight is shameless and Michael’s first instinct is to laugh—a sharp, mocking sound that would cut through Jermaine’s ego like a knife. But he bites it back, his teeth sinking into his lower lip to stop the smirk threatening to break free. He doesn’t want to disturb you, his precious girl, not when you’re so close. You deserve this, deserve to feel good, and he’s not going to let Jermaine ruin it. But that doesn’t mean he’s going to let his brother off the hook.

A little devil on his shoulder whispers in his ear, and Michael’s lips twitch, his eyes glinting with something dark and triumphant. He’s not just going to let Jermaine watch, he decides to put on a show. One that’ll burn itself into his mind and leave no doubt who you belong to. 

Show him what he’ll never have. 

His grips your hip tighter, steadying you as he adjusts your position, making sure your head is facing the headboard. He doesn’t want you to know Jermaine’s there, leering like a coward. 

“Stay right there, baby,” he murmurs, his voice low, laced with a command you don’t question. You nod, your cheek sliding against the damp fabric, your mind too cock drunk to notice the edge in his tone. His hand presses gently but firmly against the back of your head, keeping your face down. “There we go, good girl.”

He starts to move again, faster now, his girthy cock somehow feeling even harder, even thicker as he sinks deeper into your slippery cunt. The brutal pace takes your breath away. You’re trying so hard to stay quiet, mindful of the family outside but Michael’s unforgiving. He knows exactly how to fuck you, how to angle himself to hit the spots that make you moan the loudest.

“God,” you pant, your voice muffled but needy. “It’s… it’s too much.”

“I know, I know,” he says, his voice full with affection, though his eyes are locked on the door, on Jermaine’s pathetic silhouette. “You’re my girl. You take me so well.” His words are for you, but there’s an edge to them, a deliberate taunt aimed at the figure in the hallway. He shifts slightly, angling his body to give his brother an unobstructed look at the way his lengthy cock stretches your pussy, the way your glistening folds cling to him with every plunge.

Jermaine’s still there, his hand moving frantically, his cock leaking with a desperation that’s almost pitiful. he watches, unable to tear his eyes away from the scene. Michael’s gaze meets his brother’s through the sliver of the door, and his lips curl into a subtle, predatory smirk. He picks up the pace, his hips slamming against you with a force that makes the bed creak, his cock driving so deep it pulls a loud, involuntary moan from your throat akin to a scream. He’s showing off now.

Jermaine stumbles slightly, his hand stalling as he realizes he’s been caught. His eyes widen, a flush of embarrassment creeping up his neck. but his hand is still fisting his leaking cock, unable to stop despite the shame that should be drowning him. He’s hypnotized on the way Michael’s cock disappears into your wet pussy. It’s pathetic and both of them know it.

The slap of his balls against your pulsing clit makes your eyes roll. You try to lift your head, to turn and look at him, but Michael’s hand is quick, pressing gently but firmly on the back of your neck, keeping your face buried in the sheets. “Uh-uh, patience, girl,” he says. “Just feel me, okay?”

You whine and his effort pushes you closer to the edge, your walls clenching around him, squeezing him so tight he groans, a low sound that reverberates through you. “You like that, don’t you?” he mutters, his voice thick with pride at being able to make you feel so good. Yet his eyes are still on Jermaine, burning with a possessive fire. “You’re so fuckin’ beautiful…falling apart just for me.” a jab meant to twist the knife.

““You know this is all for me, don’t you? Every inch of this belongs right here,” Michael says, his voice loud enough for the unexpected audience. You think he’s talking to you, your mind too foggy with pleasure to catch the subtext. But Michael’s staring right at him, his body covered in a sheen of sweat that glistens deliciously. ““Ain’t nobody ever gonna make you feel like this, girl. This is mine to give.”

Jermaine’s breath hitches, his hand slowing but not stopping, his eyes darting between Michael’s face and your body. He’s caught, humiliated, but he’s too far gone, too consumed by the sight of you, by the fantasy he’ll never touch.

and Michael’s blood boils even hotter. He leans down, his voice softening for you. “Nobody else gets to see you like this.” he says, his tone tender now, a contrast to his overwhelming pace. “Isnt that right sweetheart?”

You nod, your voice a broken whimper. “Yes! yes, Michael,” you manage, your body shaking as the pleasure builds to a crescendo. “Only you.”

“That’s right.” His hand slides up your back, tangling in your damp hair as he tugs gently, keeping your head down. His thrusts grow erratic, his cock throbbing inside you as he chases his own release, his looks over breathlessly, daring him to keep watching. “You hear that? Nobody else. Just me.” Directly speaking to the man.

Jermaine’s hand moves faster now, his face flushed with a mix of shame and desperation, and Michael’s smirk widens. Goodness he’s getting off to being humiliated, isn’t he? The bed creaks louder, the sounds of the wet slap of skin filling the room, drowning out the distant laughter from the pool.

“Michael, please,” you beg, your body shaking as you teeter on the edge. “I need- I need to…”

“I got you, baby,” he says, his voice softening for you. “Cum for me. Show me how good I make you feel.”

Your moans turn into a cry as you finally shatter, your walls pulsing around Michael’s cock as your body trembles uncontrollably. The pleasure is blinding, your vision blurring as you grip the quilt, your knuckles aching, your moans so loud you’re sure they carry through the open window, echoing in the minds of anyone close enough to hear. 

Michael follows right after, he sinks himself deeper, his coily pubic hair tickling your skin as he fills you to the brim with thick, hot globs of cum. His hips stutter, his grip on your waist bruising as he rides out his release.

Jermaine cums too, a pathetic spill over his hand that drips down his fingers, he steadies himself by holding onto the wall and biting down onto his arm. Eyes shut, he imagines licking Michael’s cum from your folds, a fantasy that makes his spurt even more before forcing himself to straighten up.

Michael pulls out slowly as he lets his cum dribble out of your well-fucked pussy, a slow, creamy trail that speaks louder than any words could. It’s a silent, unmistakable message to his brother: This is mine. You’ll never have her. 

Jermaine’s lust filled trance leaves him as the reality of what he’s witnessed sinks in, the humiliation finally breaking through his arousal. He takes a step back, nearly tripping over his own feet, and disappears into the hallway, the door creaking slightly as he retreats.

Michael exhales, his body relaxing as he turns his attention back to you, his hands gentle now as he helps you turn over. He pulls you into his arms, his lips brushing your forehead, your temple, your cheek, a stark contrast to the fire that consumed him moments ago.

“You okay?” he asks, all the anger and bravado melting away as he pulls you up, turning you to face him. His hands cup your face, searching your eyes for any sign of distress.

You nod, still breathless but feeling sated. “Yeah,” you say, your voice shaky but warm. “More than okay.”

He smiles, a real one this time, and leans down to kiss you, his lips gentle against yours. “good,” he says, pulling back to rest his forehead against yours.

“During…did you hear something? At the door?”

“Just the wind, probably. Don’t worry about it.”

© michaelsfavgirl 2025

You've been hired as Michael's personal nanny for around 8 months — nearly a year. You enjoy it a lot, playing Jenga with his kids all night long, then tucking them in bed with a little story you made up. Even doing the dishes was enjoyable. Also, not to mention that Michael's house was huge, he had countless rooms for each of his specific niches. Sometimes when everyone's gone to sleep, you'll sneak out of your bed & snoop around each of the rooms, just out of curiosity. Your house is so small, so being here is like being on holiday. Although when he’s away touring or just busy, you’d miss his company.

Michael’s been so very kind & just to you ever since you've been working for him. You protested to him that you didn't even need a room at first, that you could just sleep on one of his couches. The idea irritated him.

"I'm not having no lady sleep on a couch, you'll sleep in a proper room, your own. I'll make it real nice for you." He'd say.

& he did. You told him you loved baby pink, so he'd hire someone to paint the walls pink, install clean white coving & put some pretty floral sheets on your bed with a little vanity installed across the room. You were shocked when you saw your bed was king-sized.

“This is too much Michael…”

“It’s the least I could do to thank you.”

You aggressively scrub the stains from tonight's dinner off the bone china plates as you do the dishes, your hair tied up in a messy pony with a tight polka-dot white apron on. Soft rain taps on the kitchen window, the draft of air from the opening crack hitting your face blissfully. You overhear the soft mumbles of Michael & his children a few floors above you as he puts them to bed.

“Goodnight, Daddy. Love you.” They say in their sweet little voices.

“I love you guys too. Sleep well now. Busy day tomorrow.” You hear Michael say.

You smile to yourself, continuing to scrub as you hear heavy footfall coming down the stairs. You straighten your back & flick the hair out of your face. You hate to admit it, but you think you’re starting to develop a little something for Michael. Any little thought you have of him that’s mildly inappropriate, you push it away instantly. You’re a professional after all.

“You didn’t have to do that,” you hear a soft voice mumble behind you.

You turn to see Michael propped up against the doorframe with his hands behind his back. His eyes were dark and worn from the intensity of the day. He’s wearing a loose linen white shirt paired with baggy grey sweatpants & his glasses. You only really see him wear them in the evening, you secretly love them.

“Oh, no, I don’t mind at all. It’s my job after all, right?” You chirp sweetly as you continue to scrub, a little gentler now.

You always try to appear perfect around Michael, sweet & polite at all times. Not because it’s part of your job to maintain a modicum of respect, but because you want him to like you personally. He’s such a huge public figure, a star — the thought of being close to him excites you.

“I know.” He says, taking the wet plates you’ve washed & drying them off. “My mother raised me to be a gentleman. So nanny or not, it never sits right with me for a woman to be doing all my dirty work, y’know?”

You nod softly, giving him an understanding smile as you continue to lay wet plates on the rack.

A few minutes pass of you & Michael cleaning & drying the dishes together, mindless small talk floating in the air. It'd been a long day for you, the weather was burning hot, which automatically made you sluggish, & the children were constantly begging for your attention while you attempted to do 1000 other tasks at once. So surprisingly, doing the dishes with Michael in the cool of the temperate evening soothed your nerves.

You passed Michael the last remaining dish as he dried it off, placing it in the cabinet with a clank. You pull the plug as you watch the soapy water collect down the drain, feeling Michaels eyes on your back.

You turn around with a loud sigh, attempting to fill in the awkward silence that hangs in the air while you two share a glance, just smiling.

"Well," you cut in, wiping surplus water off your manicured hands on your apron, "you tucked the children into bed?"

Michael takes his glasses off in one swipe, hanging them on his shirt opening.

"Yes I did, they'll sleep tight. I know they bothered you a lot today, they can get pretty active, so i'm sorry about that." He chuckles softly, the sound sending a mere tingle to your belly.

You two haven't had a proper two-on-two conversation since the morning started. After that, tasks had to be done, errands had to be run, so you two never got the chance to really talk. You shake your head with a reassuring smile, your cheeks a little rosy.

"I understand that constantly playing with children can be hard & tiring, especially when you don't want too but,"

You untie your apron from behind, placing it on the counter top. Michael's eyes fall to your waist instinctively, crossing his arms & shifting his feet.

"I like playing around y'know? I find it fun. I like my job." You smile, showing off your pearly whites.

Michael nods slowly, trying his hardest to keep his eyes on yours & not gawk like a pervert at your tanned legs n' thighs under your sundress.

"Good," he said gently. "You know I'd hate to think you're only staying because the pay's decent."

You let out a little giggle from his comment.

"If I didn't like being here I'd be gone by now, trust me."

Something about your comment seemed to please him by the look on his face; he liked having you here. Not because you were doing most of his work for him or taking extra care of his children, but because he liked you. Secretly, he likes having a sweet piece of ass around the house 24/7. He'd never tell you that, though; he's a gentleman after all.

Michael clapped his hands together, turning around to open the cabinet behind him full of all different types of liquor. You watch him pull out an expensive looking bottle of pinot, holding it in front of you.

"its's been a long day, how do you feel about a glass of wine? Do you drink?" He asks.

"Occasionally, yes." You mumble, taking the bottle from his hand as you analyse the label intently.

"Great."

Michael takes 2 slim wine glasses from the bottom cabinet as you read the label, you forget how wealthy he is. The wine you drink is nowhere near as rich as this.

"Burgundy Pinot Noir? Seems nice."

Michael hums in agreement as you pass the bottle back to him. He pops open the cork, the soft glug of wine filled the silence as he tipped the bottle. Deep red swirled into both glasses, a little more than you'd usually drink of an evening. You take a quick peek at his back before he turns to pass you the glass; it's lean & broad. His back bones n' muscles stretch his shirt a little. You feel your bottom lip pull in a little before you stop yourself.

"Here," he turns to hand you a glass, "I hope this isn't too much."

You take the glass & swirl it around a little, smelling the rim. It's rich, fruity, & sexy. The scent travels straight down in-between your legs.

"No it's not. I enjoy your company," you say.

"I meant the contents of your glass," Michael laughs as he takes a short sip, his pearly whites shining.

You feel your face burn up a little from embarrassment, chuckling to yourself.

"Oh! no, this is perfect. The amount is perfect." You reiterate.

Michael smiles to himself, the innocence of your embarrassment flattering him. Sure, you're a full-grown adult, but you have this innocence about you that he picks up on. Your sweet floral scent when you pass him by, or your cute coordinated outfits you pick out every day. He'd always love seeing you in those little sundresses that revealed the smooth of your calves & chest. He'd feel guilty for thinking of you like that, but he couldn't help it. He finds you immensely beautiful & special, he can't help but wonder who gets to enjoy you.

"You wanna go to the front room? Might be a little more comfortable to sit down," he questions, starting to move towards said room.

"Yeah sure, good idea."

You follow him to the front room. It's lit up dimly with a singular chandelier & scattered candles around the room in various places. He usually does this after he puts his children to bed —  relishes in his solitude. You never really got the chance to share this opportunity with him. You'd usually go to bed around this time too but since the day was drawn out longer than usual, he caught you just in time. The room smells of him, with notes of incense. You feel your heart rate pick up, for what reason you don't know.

"Do you do this often?" You say, taking a seat on the couch as he follows, plopping himself down a little too close to you, so close you can smell him.

Michael leans back on the arm of the couch, one hand wrapped around the back cushion while the other holds his glass. You swallow, your legs neatly closed as you sit upright, holding your glass with both hands in front of you. You don't know why you're nervous. You've spent time with him before, but this time just feels different. Maybe it's in your head, you try to relax.

"Drink wine?" he questions.

"Invite your employees for a drink after work kinda thing," your voice sweet in comparison to the deepness of his own. You've noticed it gets lower in the evening, perhaps from his lack of energy.

"Uh, sometimes yes. But if it makes you feel better, I enjoy your company the most." He says softly. "Not only do you do a lot around here, but you've got a lovely personality. Im grateful to have you in my home, truly.”

You smile warmly. The thought of your presence being accepted in his home makes you warm.

"Thank you, Mr Jackson. Means a lot." You take another sip, you feel your head start to become weightless, a little more ditzy. You've never been good with your alcohol.

"Oh, & I've been meaning to tell you, please don’t call me that." He pleads, placing a hand on his chest sincerely. "Call me Michael. My father used to make us call him Joseph; it's not the way it should be."

"Well, thank you, Michael. It means a lot." You say, pressing your thighs together a little harder than usual.

“No, thank you.”

A solid 10 minutes pass by of you & Michael sharing each others company, growing closer & closer by the minute, learning more about each other with each sip. Before you knew it, the conversation was drifting from topic to topic without paying any attention to the appropriateness of it. You were both too far gone, only a quarter of your wine left.

"You ever think you'd be somewhere completely different by now?" you questioned. Your body now slouched into the couch, one leg thrown over the other.

Michael stared at you a little longer, his eyes half lidded n' hazy as he tries to understand your question before answering.

"Different how? Like marriage?"

You shrugged, your lips pouty n' stained a deep red from the wine. Your eyes slightly drunken. The state of you making his cock twitch in his pants.

"Yeah, marriage. You never wanna get married? I don't see a ring on your finger," you slur, pointing to his hand.

Michael blushes, scratching his head.

"No, I do. I wanna get married. I've been married, I've had a lot of experience in that sector, but it never works out, y'know."

You nod, a sympathetic look on your face, "I'm sorry about that."

"It's okay. Well, and you? you've never been married?" He asks, sliding a hand through his thick black hair. Part of him inside is smiling at the fact he's able to find out more about you. He didn't ask you to drink with him for that specific reason, but the line is starting to blur.

"No never. I've had a few boyfriends but...they also never worked out. I've never been happy with someone. In all ways."

"So you've never had a serious man?" He inquires, subconsciously sitting up. Now more intently focused when it comes to your love life.

You snicker into your glass, your teeth clanking against the delicate material, "None worth writing home about."

His eyebrows raise in surprise, taking a final sip of his wine before placing the glass on the coffee table beside him.

"Thats very hard to believe."

You furrow your brows with a little tantalising smirk, inching him to elaborate.

"Well you're beautiful," he gestures a hand at your figure. "Smart, good with children. I would've thought somebody would've appreciated you enough to keep you by their side by now."

Tingles n' heat creep up into your cheeks, your lashes fluttering with nerves as you force yourself to smile & thank him.

"Thank you." Is all you can manage.

"Why do I get the feeling every guy you've dated has been a total dimwit?" He whispers. His irritation rising knowing no man will ever take care of you the way he knows he could.

You chuckle, "You'd be right then."

His eyes never leave yours, "What, did they just never treat you right, Is that it?"

You hesitated a little, lips moving to say something but then faltering. Your lips stay around the rim of your empty glass. Michael noticed your hesitation instantly.

"What? Come on!" he teases you, giving your knee a soft nudge.

"No I cant, it's so embarrassing." You laugh, stretching your hand to put your glass down on the table.

Michael points at himself, his face straight all of a sudden.

"Embarrassing? Do you know the amount of embarrassment I had to go through in my career?" He snickers.

He shifts to sit up more, counting on his fingers, "Pepsi Incident, false accusations, women not liking me back. Countless things! I can go on-"

"Okay, okay." You start, pinching your eyes together with your fingers, your cheeks practically on fire at this point.

Michael goes silent instantly as he waits, his hands wrapped around the couch again.

“I’ve just never been satisfied, sexually. I find that important in a relationship.” You come out.

“You what?” He laughs breathlessly, taken back.

The thought of what you're saying to Michael right now doesn’t even register in your brain. You’re just talking, completely relaxed. It’s a nice feeling, yet a little risky to your relationship.

“I’ve never got there.” You close your eyes.

Michael’s lips fall agape as you confess to never having an orgasm. Not knowing what to say. He can’t help but ask more questions, as less perverse as possible.

“Not even…alone?” He says barely above a whisper.

You shake your head slowly, letting your head fall into your hands as you laugh to yourself, completely exposed & vulnerable. You’re drunk, yet after saying it it’s like you’ve sobered up. You're regretting it. You press on, trying to explain yourself.

“I’ve heard my friends talk of it about their relationships, even alone. But I’ve just never been able too, let alone with another person. So there you go, that’s my secret.”

You reach for your glass before realising it's empty, not knowing what to do with your hands. You just keep your head down, avoiding eye contact. The silence is unbearable, the room is practically choking you from how small it feels. Michael doesn't answer right away, though you feel the burn of his stare on you. You cant tell if it's sympathy or judgement. The confusion is killing you. You decide to look up at him momentarily, he's already looking into your eyes. He didn't look shocked or amused, he was just looking at you.

"Wanna know how it feels?" He says, his voice an octave lower.

Your eyes shot up at him, your heart racing so hard you swear he can hear it.

"What do you mean?" You mumble pathetically, your face like a deer in headlights.

"I mean do you wanna know how it feels? just a question, truly."

His poker face isn't telling you jack, it's like he's left you to interpretation. You straighten your back, trying to appear confident.

"Uh, yes. Yes I do."

Michael scoots a little closer to you on the couch, his knee brushing yours. You can tell he's trying to seem as natural as possible. You watch him through half lidded eyes, trying to keep your balance upright as you're a little tipsy, so is he.

"You're a kind girl, I cant help but feel genuine sympathy for you. You mean to tell me you've spent all this time wondering what it feels like?"

You clear your throat, crossing your legs as you give him a little nod.

He pouts a little, "& how far would you be willing to go?"

"How far would I be willing to go for what?"

"To feel the one thing no one has ever made you feel."

You think to yourself, the number of times you'd feel terribly aroused at home, knowing you need some sort of release but not knowing how to deal with it. Or the sickening envy you'd feel hearing your friends talk about the way they came so hard they cried with their loved one. You hated it; you felt like a child.

You nod, "Far."

"Let me help you then." He snaps with no restraint. You look at his face, searching for any sign of unseriousness. You don’t find anything.

You feel a pulse start to build up in your cunt at the mere thought of Michael helping you. You work for him, you think to yourself. The taboo nature of the idea arouses you, yet you try to let your morals win.

“Help me with that?” You say below a whisper, saying it out loud feels like a crime. “I don’t think that’d be right, I work for you.”

“I know you do, but I’m only trying to help. It stays in this room. Only if you’re willing.” He says, his bottom lip drawing in at the possible reality.

“But what will I tell people-“

“You don’t have to tell anyone anything. This is supposed to be private. Just a person helping another person hm?”

You let the thought ponder in your head, you remember you’ve had fantasies of this man. You woke up in a hot sweats from multiple sex dreams of him lapping your pussy with his tongue, beating yourself up for it afterwards. The frame of his body, his hair, those sexy pair of eyes that threaten your self respect everyday.

“Teach me.” You nod innocently, your voice laced with a mix of desire & hesitation. You knew deep down you wanted him bad.

“You sure?” He says, tucking a strand of hair out of your face.

“Yes, I want too. I want you to make me feel it.” You scoot forward, blinking rapidly from excitement.

“Take your hair down,” he says, rubbing your shoulder gently.

You follow his command, letting your hair down out of your clip, placing it neatly on the table.

“Good, now just relax okay? you look tense. That’s not gonna help either y’know?” He cooes.

You nod along like you have no brain of your own, completely in his mercy. You like being told what to do, not having to think.

Michael’s now close & facing you, softly rubbing your smooth arms to try & relax you — prepping you. His eyes fall to your lips, ripe & agape. Just begging to be kissed n' licked.

Without any warning, he leans in & presses his lips to yours, automatically moving his hands to cup your jaw; your skin burns under his touch. He proceeds to slide his tongue between your lips, asking for permission to be let in. You hum, allowing him. With no time to waste, you feel him enter your mouth, his tongue dancing with your own, warm & wet. You mewl into the kiss, your brows pressing together as the ache in your core grows larger. You place your hands on his shoulders & squeeze, forcing yourself to have a mind of your own.

"Mhm, there you go. Just go with the flow." He mumbled, his words barely audible, muffled by your puffy lips.

He breaks the kiss, leaving you pouting in loss of contact. Strands of hair stick to the wetness he left on your lips.

"What happened?" You say, your eyes blown out.

"Nothing," he chuckles, "Just relax & lay back, can you do that for me?"

"Mhm," you slowly lay back on the couch cushions behind you, keeping your legs together as your hands remain on your lap. It's like you've been fantasising about this moment, but when it comes, you get all shy. You can tell he's getting off on it by the bulge growing in his sweatpants, but you pretend not to notice.

"Face me, baby." He says, turning you in his direction by your waist. You feel your pussy grow wetter & wetter by the second, your thoughts clouded by the unrelenting desire for his touch down there.

His calloused hands run down your thighs & to your knees, "gonna open now okay?" he whispers, peppering a little kiss on your collarbone.

You nod, keeping your doe'd eyes on him as he slowly pushes your legs open, your sundress riding up as he does so. A few more forced pushes of your legs & they're completely open. Your pink cotton panties stained with a dark circle in the middle from your arousal. You hear him whisper profanities under his breath as he stares at your clothed pussy, your lips showing a little through the material.

"Pink really is your favourite colour, so damn pretty." He purrs, caressing the inner skin of your thighs. The rough texture of his palms against the your causing little mewls to fall from your lips. He's here to help you, yet the stiffness of his cock keeps betraying him.

Michael places a gentle hand against your chest, "Breathe, baby."

You realise how hard your heart is beating, you can't tell if it's from nerves or pure arousal but you attempt to steady your breathing.

"Sorry, I think I'm just really turned on." You shudder.

Michael caresses your jaw, "Thats the most important factor."

He leans down, placing light little kisses on your thighs & knees. You tremble from the contact. He holds one of your feet with one hand, kissing your perfectly manicured toes as the other hand rubs on your the curve of your ass.

"Please touch me," You beg, giving your pussy a little stroke to signal to him where you want it.

He gently slides his middle & index finger up your wet slit, your arousal totally soaked through the cheap fabric of your panties. Your mouth falls open with no sound at first, just pleasurable shock. The feeling of the tips of his fingers grazing over your clit making you squeak like a slut.

Michael presses a finger to your lips with his free hand, "Try to be quiet okay? I know it's hard." He orders.

His cock is throbbing like a ticking time bomb under his sweatpants at the sight of you all drunken & horny in front of him, legs splayed open waiting for him to help you.

"Mm, sorry." You mumble under his finger, trying to keep your eyes out of the back of your head as he continues rubbing softly.

He tugs at the side of your panties, moving them to the side slowly to reveal your glossy folds. There might as well be a twinkle In his eye as he stares.

"Damn," He breaths out, giving your swollen clit a rub with his thumb.

You arch your back immediately, covering your mouth as he rubs your clit tantalising slow.

"Fuck, Michael. I swear It's never felt that good." You gasp, drawing your bottom lip under your teeth painfully hard.

He smiles, his ego rising from your comment. He proceeds to rub in small circles with his index & middle finger in a steady rhythm, gathering your juices from the bottom to rub all over your clit.

"Let's get this down," he says to himself, pulling the upper half of your dress down with one hand, letting your perky tits fall free. He gawks at the view, forgetting this isn't about him — it's all about you.

You feel heat rise in your face again, you've never felt so exposed & horny in your life.

He gropes the curve of your breast with his free hand, rolling your nipple through his fingers as he continues his work on your pussy.

"Feeling good, ma? You need to tell me."

Your head falls back on the arm of the couch as you nod, your stomach twitching from the pleasure as you try to stop your moans from erupting — you're soaked for him.

"Feels so good Michael," You cry out. The muscles in your thighs starting to clench as you chase something you don't even know what.

He takes his hands away, unbuttoning his shirt in a frenzy as he tosses it on the floor. He comes back, though this time you feel 2 slender fingers slowly slide in you, curving just right.

"Oh my god," You whine, your eyes falling into your head.

He continues to roll your nipple between his fingers with his free hand, all while kissing you simultaneously.

Your body wasn't the only thing he'd ogle at, your lips were insanely arousing to him too, he didn't know where to touch or kiss you now that he had you like this.

Your hand snaps into his hair, grabbing on for dear life as you feel yourself begin to tremble & shake, he feels it too.

"Michael? Something's happening." You whimper, your brows pressed tight as you look at him for an answer, your eyes glossy.

"Thaats it," he encourages you, "You feel that baby? I ain't stopping."

Immense pressure coiled tighter inside of you, every breath becoming harder & harder to catch the more he fingers you perfectly on your g-spot — no one's ever hit the right spot, yet he seems to always seems to know where you like it.

"Michael, Michael!" You cry.

"Yes," he hisses, "Let go." He leans down.

You feel his supple mouth latch onto your pussy, lapping & sucking gently on your sensitive nub as he continues to curl his fingers into you. You break immediately; the tension that had been building for minutes reaches a point where it feels unmanageable. The coil in your belly snaps, something in you lets go, your muscles tightening as your pulse thunders in your ears with blind spots covering your vision.

You squeal as you cum on his mouth, your eyes pinched shut as you try to come back to life. Once you have the energy to lift your head, you look down at Michael, the lower half of his face glistening with your juices as he pants, smiling at you warmly. He sits up, licking n' sucking his fingers like a child with candy.

"Thats an orgasm," He smirks, a cocky look on his face. He brings a finger to your mouth, "Taste yourself, you did that."

You hesitate before latching your mouth around his finger, sucking on it looking at him. You taste sweet, just how you're feeling.

"I didn't know I could do that," You bite your lip, feeling a sense of achievement wash over you as Michael watches you in amusement.

"Glad I could help." He chuckles.

You stay lying, your panties still shifted to the side. You pull them off in one swift motion, throwing them on top of his shirt on the floor. You don't know how, but your orgasm gave you a wave of confidence. You feel like you could do anything; you feel like a woman.

"Though," You press on the bulge through his sweatpants with your foot, it's extremely hard.

"I wanna cum again, but with this," you plead, not wanting to say the word.

He bites his lower lip as he thinks about it, running a hand through his hair. Touching you is one thing, but fucking his nanny on his living room couch while his children are asleep, that's messy — & he liked it.

Before you could process what's happening, he's rolling his sweats down, giving his cock a little grab before finally sliding off his boxers too. You salivate at the sight of him. Thick, slender, & deep in colour. You instinctively open your legs wider, inviting him over. He climbs over you, one hand braced next to your head while the other juts your chin up for you to look at him, your eyes too busy on his cock.

"No one can know about this, you hear me?" He presses.

You nod frantically, "I promise."

You reach out to touch him, you give him a few little strokes. Your hand felt tiny up against it. He drops his head on your chest from the feeling of your hand. You let out a moan as you attempt to line him up to your weeping slit. You buck your little lips forward, desperate to have him inside of you.

"Let me, baby, relax." He takes over, lining himself up with your entrance.

You feel him begin to crown you a little, already feeling a bitter sweet sting start to form.

"Please, all in." You beg as you hold your legs open, your hands in the backs of your knees.

"Dammit,"

Michael sinks all of his length into you, the pleasure feeling even more intense than before. Your hands shoot to his shoulders to push him back a little as you squeal, your lashes fluttering as you look at him from beneath them. You start to move your hips desperately, you loved watching how it disappears & reappears beneath you, he's the biggest you've ever felt. It feels like you're having sex for the first time again.

The sound of your mixed arousal is like music to his ears as he begins to form a steady rhythm with you. He manages to hit your g-spot constantly, never missing.

"You're gonna be the death of me." He grits, grabbing one of your breasts as he leans down to suck on one of your nipples slowly & sensually.

You whimper into his clammy hair as he's leant down, your eyes rolling back as you begin to feel the same coil in your belly you felt earlier — now able to recognise it. You let go of your thighs, your strength faltering as you come closer to your release. Michael's hands quickly replace yours, pushing your thighs back a little as he continues rolling his hips into you, the sweet sound of skin meeting skin starting to creep up the harder he goes, eager for you to come again. He wants that for you.

"Michael, It's happening again I feel it. I think i'm gonna come." You warn, your eyes squeezing shut as you feel his mouth press against yours hot & messily.

He pulled back an inch from your lips, just enough to murmur, "Come for me," as he planted an encouraging slap on the side of your ass.

With a sharp cry buried deep into his shoulder, you come hard. Your vision is blocked out once again, the same pulse in your ears as you squeeze around him. You twitch beneath him.

Michael planned to last longer in the hope of pleasuring you for as long as you saw fit, yet the way your pussy clenched around him brought him to a sharp halt instantly.

"Oh, god." He whines, pulling out & stroking himself desperately as he finishes over your thighs. You watch his warm release slide down your skin slowly.

You pant, looking up at him with a satisfied smile as he runs a hand across your cheek, droplets of sweat from his hair hitting your forehead.

"Thanks for helping me."

Michael brushed a strand of hair from your face.

"Anytime." He giggles.

"For the first time in my life, i'm able to understand what everyone is talking about."

⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹

You stared at yourself in the mirror, having redone your hair for what felt like the millionth time. Getting so frustrated you almost started hitting yourself in the head with the brush.

You wanted, no, needed everything to be perfect.

Tonight was the night. You knew it, could feel it with each beat of your heart.

It was your birthday and Michael had promised you a special night. A shyness to his smile as he’d said it that made your mind wander to all the what if’s.

The two of you had been dating for a while now and it was going wonderfully. Honestly, you had no complaints.

There was just one thing.

One insatiable itch you’d been dying to have scratched.

Said itch had been… maintained, you could say. Michael struggled to keep his hands off of you. Loved to hold your hand or your waist, fond of cradling the nape of your neck as you walked through crowds. And anytime he got the chance, he had a habit of lightly slapping you on the ass.

That was just in public.

Behind closed doors that shyness slipped away and the two of you had only remained tame for so long. Makeouts easily and unavoidably bled into other activities that made your heart race.

Remembering the time he first went down on you was enough to make your thighs clench as you put on some lip gloss.

And although all those moments felt amazing you wanted more.

Desperately.

Michael did too. Always muttering against your ear how much he wanted to fuck you as his fingers dragged in and out of your pussy and—

You stood up quickly to open a window, desperately needing air.

You had actually never seen him. Just the outline and sure, you’d felt it. One too many nights you’d end up straddling him, grinding against each other but never reaching a satisfying end due to all the layers of fabric.

Just imagining what it would finally, finally be like to have him inside you made you bite your lip, mind spinning off into a daydream.

When the doorbell rang you jumped, your cheeks in a permanent blush.

You could do this.

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Michael’s head was spinning and he felt short of breath the whole night.

Watching you intently over the table as you had dinner, slotted away in a private room at your favorite restaurant. Your face lit in a warm glow by the candles and your lips were stained red with wine.

You looked beautiful. You always did, but there was just something a little special in the air tonight.

Tonight…

God, he was so nervous he wasn’t even hungry. Shuffling the food around on his plate to look like he had actually eaten.

When the idea first popped into his head, he thought he was a genius. What better way to make the first time special?

But as the days dwindled down he realized he genuinely had no idea what to do or what to expect. The books he’d bought felt utterly useless. Too technical and a complete lack of heart.

After your favorite dessert was brought out and the bill paid, he opened the car door for you and couldn’t help but watch your ass and you bent down to get in.

He looked up at the sky, saying a silent prayer in hopes tonight was exactly what you deserved.

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You unlocked the door to your place, trying not to smile as you did so. Your heartbeat loud and your mind a little fuzzy with wine.

The moment the door shut, Michael was on you. Hands wrapping around your waist and dipping you low as he kissed you, muttering a Happy Birthday Baby against your lips.

You smiled into the action, tongue dancing against his as his hands slid down to lift you up, your legs easily wrapping around him as he carried you to your bedroom.

God, you felt high.

He neared your bed, catching the edge of the mattress with his knee as he carefully lowered you into the sheets. Mouth never leaving yours until his lips started traveling lower, dancing down your jaw and chest, leaving a hot and wet trail as his teeth nipped.

Then Michael’s hands were pushing up your skirt and you could feel the heat of his mouth hit your covered cunt like a shock to the nerves, a lewd sound bubbling up in the back of your throat as you looked at him laying between your hips.

He was trailing kisses along your inner thighs as he slid off your underwear, his large hands then caressing your skin before he took hold of your left thigh and hiked it over his shoulder.

The sound that left him when his eyes finally fell between your legs made your head spin.

“God, look at you.”

On self-conscious instinct you tried to shut your legs but you weren’t going anywhere. Michael’s fingers digging lightly into your thighs to hold you still and it made the muscles in your thighs twitch.

“Perfect,” he mumbled before pressing a kiss directly to your clit that sent your hips shooting upward and your hands flew to his hair.

“Oh my God,” you gasped in a half moan as his tongue began to work against you.

He hummed and you felt a jolt of electricity shoot up your spine, rocking against his face with embarrassment you were sure you’d feel in the morning.

“You taste like heaven,” he said heavily as he ate you out like a man starved. His lips closed over you and you yelped when a finger sank inside of you.

Calloused. Larger than yours. Delicious.

His rhythm was even, curling up slightly and your back arched.

“More,” you gasped. It wasn’t enough. Not nearly enough. “Please.”

“I was planning on it,” Michael laughed lightly, looking up at you to gauge your reaction as he added another finger. His smile lazy as he watched your mouth drop open at the sensation of being stretched. Filled.

The slow drag of his fingers was torture and your face flushed red with the whine that left you.

Because it wasn’t enough and you felt like crying. A level of greed you weren’t even aware you had the capability of possessing was bleeding into every nerve ending.

It felt like a day dream, watching him between your thighs. As if you were an altar he came to for worship.

Michael Jackson.

He was so painfully perfect you could sob.

Why you? Why had you gotten so lucky?

“You’re thinking too much,” Michael said, picking up his pace and silencing your mind effectively as he then sucked your clit while running the tip of his tongue over it in tight circles.

His fingers curled as he dragged them out and when you noticed he was grinding into the bed mindlessly chasing his own pleasure, you felt the crash of an orgasm slam into you all at once. Nails digging into his hair to hold him close, his tongue and fingers not stopping as he worked you through it. Smiling against you as you moaned his name and he moaned yours, his hips still rolling, desperate to find something to satisfy his own high.

You were panting heavily, hands falling from his hair to his face and you pulled him up to meet your mouth.

“Michael, please.”

You didn’t sound like yourself.

Deranged. A woman lost in the mindless sea of pleasure.

“Fuck.” His face fell into the crook of your neck as you felt him settle between your legs, barely able to catch a glimpse but then you felt it.

The head of his cock sliding against your entrance and it was so much bigger than you’d expected and you shivered, holding onto him tighter and then he was sinking in, inch by deliberate inch, and you felt so fucking full for the first time you were pretty sure you were crying with relief.

And then he was buried all the way in, breathing heavily into your neck and teeth sinking into the soft flesh and as he started to pull out he was trembling.

“Fuck, baby I can’t…”

And then your pussy clenched around him and his hips snapped back into yours and the way he said your name— you’d never forget it.

You felt his cock twitch inside of you, his hips rolling and desperate to get deeper in ways that weren’t possible and the way he was whimpering made your head spin.

After a moment he melted on top of you, head still hiding in the crook of your neck and you blinked up at the ceiling of your bedroom.

“Michael?”

He was breathing heavily and eventually shook his head, refusing to lift up to look at you.

“I ruined it,” he mumbled into the sheets, lips tickling your neck.

Your brows furrowed, body still wrapped around his and his still very much inside of you.

“You didn’t ruin anything—“

“I didn’t think… I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to finish that quickly but,” he sighed and lifted his head, eyes meeting yours and you’d never seen his pupils so blown. “You felt so fucking good I couldn’t help it.”

You shrugged, your smile teasing and he raised a brow. “What?”

When your teeth bit into your bottom lip and his eyes flicked down to the sight, you felt him twitch inside of you.

“We have all night to try again.”

Michael was kissing you now and a laugh left you between kisses.

“And again and again and again…”

michael jackson masterlist

he literally shot daggers at them before dragging you away, the look in his eyes all stony and his jaw tight as he carried you to his car like a sack of potatoes. michael noticed the way all the guys looked at you: like you were a piece of meat. a cute, untouched girl who needs a big guy to provide for her.

at times like these, he hates it. hates that he has to share you, his sweet, pretty girl, with the cruel world. and especially with other men. and now he has to address your irresponsible behaviour. you should’ve known to not talk to other guys. you already have him, and that’s enough.

“are you mad at me, michael?” you ask, voice tiny and quiet, fiddling with your fingers as you straddle his lap, not able to look in his eyes.

and michael hates that you don’t want to look at him. at the subtle frown on your face, his voice immediately softens. “baby, no,” his hands shoot out to caress your sides, his touch leaving a tingly sensation in its wake like always. “just a bit disappointed, tha’s all.”

your bottom lip starts to tremble. he’s not mad, but disappointed in you, and somehow that’s even worse. “they’re not gonna drive you all over town. buy you make up. sit you on their lap. i do that f’you baby, and without complainin’,” michael explains, tangling a soft strand of hair behind your ear.

“they won’t feed you little strawberries while watching movies either. but i will. just makes me feel a lil’ unappreciated, baby.”

that’s also something you don’t want. “i’m so sorry, mikey,” you whisper, voice wavery and soft. “how can i make it up to you?”

well, michael has an idea of how you can make it up to him, alright.

because now you’re on your knees, body a little wobbly as you settle your hands on your best friend’s thighs as you peer up at his hardened cock in his hands. transparent precum drips down the root shyly and slowly, thumb spreading it over the crown.

“that’s alright, baby girl,” michael murmurs, hands gripping your hips, guiding you onto him. this is not what you two usually do, but this sight unconsciously makes your mouth water. “jus’ gonna let’cha take a little lick.”

you hum in accordance. doe-eyes looking up at him. “i-is this normal, mikey?” you question, all warm and tingly inside.

“completely,” he answers, a dark look in his eyes, “’s just what friends do.”

when he finally readies himself and drags the bead of buttery precum over your lips, leaving them shiny, he stops in his tracks. “say thank you, baby.”

“thank you, mikey.”

“thaaaat’s it.” he’s not letting you take a “little lick”, no. instead, he feeds you his entire length. inch by torturing inch disappears in your narrow throat, but you take him in like a champ. mouth stuffed full, not able to speak, eyes watery as your fingers clamp down his thighs.

“my poor baby,” michael croons at your glassy eyes and the strings of spit dripping from your chin. to pester you even more, he whips up some of the slick spit on your chin and wipes it across your patchy cheek. “first time taking me in y’r mouth. gonna get your throat moulded t’me.”

one jerk forward slides him further into your mouth. you squeal around his length, a mixture of spit and precum bubbling around his shaft.

you’re not used to having big things in your mouth, but if that means making michael happy, you’d do it. you even wrap your hands around his base like you’ve read about in those romance books you love, wondering when you could apply your knowledge in real life.

the wet, gagging sounds you make encourage michael even more. “feels s’good baby,” he pants, his thighs contracting as the inside of your throat moves around his member, accommodating him in your slick tunnel. “y’can go deeper—fuck—know y’can.”

your hands twist and rotate what your mouth doesn’t cover, head bobbing up and down experimentally, little slurpy, swallowy sounds escaping out of your mouth.

“fuck, where’d you learn to suck dick like that?” michael grunts out, hips bucking up, his cock hitting the back of your snug, spongy throat. a surge of jealousy shoots through him at the thought of another guy teaching you how to pleasure him. “y’have the nicest little throat to fuck into, shit—”

your thighs press together at the sight of your normally cocky, calm best friend losing his sanity above you. sweat beading along his hairline, veins in his neck popping out.

“lemme— lemme— shit,” he rushes out, easing his cock out of your throat slowly, strings of spit connecting you to his cock. the tip of his dick is aimed right at your face, as the noiret pulls on his length, obscure, moist sounds from his languid strokes.

his adam’s apple bobs as he throws his head into the cushions of the sofa. “fuck, gonna come on your face. say please baby.”

“please, mikey, come on my face.” you respond eagerly, sitting up higher on your knees excitedly, eyes twinkling.

and maybe that’s what undoes michael. how you’re always agreeing with him. complying. following him. he loves how you just give into him, whatever he does. and you do it with pleasure. you do it willingly.

that’s how this this friendship works, michael thinks.

it takes one long pull, his fingers cramping around his length, and then michael combusts: milky seed exploding right in your face. your mouth, your pretty lashes, dripping down your chest, over the little “m” hanging on the necklace on your chest.

you’re overwhelmed. not knowing what the fuck just happened, only able to register michael’s warm, salty cum dripping all over your face, completely painted in white.

⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹

You kept catching him looking at you.

Michael’s eyes would flick away quickly, acting like nothing was amiss. Which, technically, nothing was. The two of you were sitting on the floor leaning against his bed while watching a movie, a typical Sunday night in the Jackson household when things got calm for a rare moment.

You had thought he sounded a little off when he had called you to come over, but you couldn’t quite put your finger on what.

Nervous didn’t really feel like the right word. Perhaps because you couldn’t think of a single reason why he would be. That very small and delusional voice in the back of your head whispered he was going to confess his feelings for you— but that would be insane.

The two of you had been friends for a while now after getting introduced to each other by a few mutual people and you had clicked.

It was easy, being around him. He probably had the same sentiments considering he still called you to hang out whenever he got a moment of down time.

When you caught him looking at you again, you decided to bite the bullet and nudge his knee with yours.

“You okay?”

“What? Yeah, fine.” He rushed. A little too quickly, in your opinion.

Your eyes narrowed. “Michael.”

His eyes slated to look at you for a moment, attempting to keep up the facade, but something in your expression made him cave.

With a sigh, he lowered the volume on the movie and turned toward you, suddenly beat red in the face and your mind was running a million miles an hour.

“I have a question,” he slowly started. Wringing his hands in his lap and suddenly not looking at you at all even though earlier he couldn’t seem to help himself.

Your eyes flicked over him, trying to get a read on what could possibly be going on but you came up blank. “Okay.”

“I…” Michael blew some air out of his mouth and suddenly laughed while looking at the ceiling. “God, this is crazy. Okay, so I, I uh… I need help with something.”

Your brows furrowed. “Okay?”

“It’s complicated and probably crossing some sort of line… and it’s also completely okay if you say no. I just want you to know first that this is in no way me trying to take advantage or trying to ruin anything. And I want you to know that I’m asking because I trust you and feel safe with you and I feel like you also feel the same way. I mean, I hope you do.” You could tell he just wanted to spit it out but looked as though he would vomit if he tried to before he was ready.

Leaning over to grab his hands, half in comfort and half to get him to stop twisting his fingers around, you gave his hands a supportive squeeze. “I do. And whatever you need help with, just know there is no judgement.”

He raised a brow at you, unsure. “None?”

“None whatsoever.”

Michael didn’t seem convinced so you held up your hand, “pinky promise.”

That got him to laugh a little bit, just a small amount of tension easing out of his shoulders as he locked pinkies with you to seal the deal.

He then let out a slow breath, eyes dancing back up to the ceiling as if in a silent prayer before he looked back at you. When his teeth sunk into his bottom lip for a moment you couldn’t help but look.

“I need to know how to go down a girl.”

You blinked.

“Pardon?”

He then covered his face with his hands, clearly embarrassed. “I knew I shouldn't have—“

“No, no, it’s just I wasn’t… I don’t know what I was expecting.” You pulled his hands from his face, your own cheeks their own deep shade of red. “It’s just, I mean— why me? What do you need to know? Do you want a bullet point list or a diagram—“

“I tried all that.”

“On a girl?” It slipped out before you thought better of it. Your envious curiosity being your downfall. You had absolutely no desire to hear about other girls he might’ve been with.

“No, the lists and diagrams, they just didn’t seem informative enough.” He said it slowly and wasn’t looking at you again.

It took an embarrassingly long moment for you to realize to what scale he was asking you to help him.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

You hummed, leaning back on your palms as your mind and heart tried to get each other to calm down. “I see.”

Seconds ticked by. All you could hear was your heartbeat and Michael started going a little blurry at the edges of your vision as flashes of dreams you’ve had flicked through your mind.

Dreams one definitely should not have about their friend.

“So?”

You crossed your legs, wishing for those things in your head to go away but then panic started bubbling up in your chest. “I mean… yes? Sure, but do you mean now?”

“No no no, there’s not really a timeline. Whenever you’re ready and comfortable. Are you positive this is okay?”

More than okay, actually. “Of course, just… helping a friend out.”

He laughed as he looked down, “right.”

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Well, fuck.

As soon as he shut the car door for you and it disappeared down the driveway, he felt like he could finally breathe again.

He felt like he had been on the brink of passing out the last two hours.

In all honesty, he was surprised he had even gotten the words out.

The idea had popped into his head a while ago, something he was ashamed but also intrigued by. He just heard things, stuff around him being discussed that piqued his interest. And then someone would ask him about his experience and he’d draw up a blank.

Even though he’s only in his twenties and lived a life worth a thousand lifetimes— he still fell short on some experiences. Mostly interpersonal or intimate.

There was also that little chirp in his head that said gaining more experience in that area would improve his song writing.

Always a working man, apparently.

And like Michael said, he had tried other avenues. Buying sex education books, published articles, magazines… but it was all too structured. Inorganic. Academic and cold.

He wanted more of a human touch, but given who he was it couldn’t just be anyone. And late one night, staring up at the ceiling as moonlight danced across his room, he thought of you.

He immediately felt ashamed about it. You were his friend, he shouldn’t be thinking about you like that. Although yes, he has admittedly found you attractive, he said he’d never go there.

But once his mind found a little footing on an idea, he couldn’t drop it.

Then the dreams started and that became a whole other hell.

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Six days had passed.

Six days of feeling like you weren’t able to breathe.

You didn’t want to admit the amount of money you dropped on getting ready for this.

For Michael Jackson to eat you out.

God, you were going to faint.

You’d been waxed, showered, body oils, your nails done, a new pair of lace panties, the whole package really. Part of you felt like it was all over kill but it was Michael fucking Jackson.

You wanted it, you, to be perfect.

And although he was the biggest star in the world, you didn’t want him to feel intimidated. Intimacy was a new field entirely and he seemed anxious enough asking you.

So you stuck with an outfit that was simple but still a little spiced up. A cute skirt and a nice top that made the girls look nice. Your hair was done up in a messy sort of up do— he had complimented it when it was like this a few weeks ago.

And to top it all off a pair of heels.

He had called you the day before, telling you to knock on the door of the studio when you got there, not wanting his family to come snooping.

So you stilled your breath, heels clicking on the ground as you neared the door.

“I can do this.”

And you knocked.

Mere heartbeats passed before you heard the lock click and the door opened.

You smiled, trying not to come off as shy as you felt when your eyes met his.

“Hi, Michael.”

He seemed slightly taken off guard, clearing his throat after a moment. “Hey.”

You felt like you were in high school all over again.

“So, where are we doing this?” You cringed at your wording.

“Right.” He was blushing again as he stepped outside and closed the door behind him. “Follow me.”

Michael sneaking you through his house provided enough of an entertaining distraction to let you relax a bit. You were just helping him out. There were no stakes. No strings. Even if you wanted there to be.

The door to his room shut softly behind him and you watched in amusement as he slowly and quietly turned the lock.

“Hopefully it’s late enough so no one will bother us.”

“I’m sure it’ll be fine, maybe just put on some music.”

“Right, good idea.”

He looked adorable as his eyes briefly flicked to yours before looking away as he began to shuffle though his records.

“You look beautiful, by the way.”

You were going to melt through the floor. “Thank you.”

⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹

He watched you, quite intently, as you sat on the edge of his bed. Back straight and hands placed neatly in your lap.

You looked like an angel.

Your eyes were on his before flicking down briefly, messing with a bracelet you had on. “So, what do you already know? Just so I have an idea.”

He felt heat pool into his cheeks, briefly glancing at the ceiling before clearing his throat. He felt more nervous now than he did performing in front of thousands of people.

“Basics, I suppose. With oral sex for women, I’m mainly supposed to focus on the… the uh, y’know.” God, he felt aware of all of his bones. If he couldn’t even say it, how was he supposed to do it. To you.

You smiled at him, though not in any teasing way to make him retreat. “It’s funny, with stuff like this. Doing it is usually less intimidating than talking about it.”

Michael nodded, rubbing at the nape of his neck as he rolled a question around in his mind. One he couldn’t help but be curious about while also dreading to hear your answer.

But he couldn’t help it.

“Have you done this before?”

You blinked at him.

“You don’t have to answer that, I was just curious—“

“A few times. I mean, I wasn’t showing someone how to do it, like now. And they were alright, it helped me find out what I like, which is what I’ll tell you.”

Michael nodded. A little annoyed that other people had had the privilege but he decided not to dwell on the fact for now or come to terms for what that meant for him.

Your nails tapped a rhythm into your leg. “So, whenever you’re ready—“

“Can we play a game first? Just to, y’know, calm the nerves?”

Twenty minutes later the two of you were tangled up on a Twister mat. Laughing as one had to stretch uncomfortably and almost fall over.

The momentary distraction did help ease his nerves but it definitely made something else more apparent.

Your skirt was incredibly short.

You barely had to bend over for him to start seeing the subtle curve of your ass cheek meet your thigh. That sight alone was inticing… and then he saw the lace of your underwear.

Fuck me, was a statement that had been running through his mind. He tried not to look, really he did. But the thin lace was right there and not leaving much to the imagination, and then he’d remember what exactly you were here for.

Michael knew his composure was steadily unraveling and when you bent over again for your turn he cleared his throat.

“I think I’m ready.”

You stood up, brows raised slightly in surprise at his sudden statement, rouge bleeding into your cheeks.

“Okay, come here.”

And then your fingers laced with his as you walked back to the bed, sitting down on the edge of it and he was about to join you but you stopped him with your fingers hooked into his belt loops.

He looked down at you, that sight alone enticing— that low voice in the back of his head wondering how lovely you’d look with his cock in your mouth right now…

What had gotten into him?

“Kneel.”

One word. That’s all it took, and he did as told.

Lowering to his knees in front of you, eyes on yours because he suddenly discovered he couldn’t— didn’t want to look anywhere else.

You held his gaze and you took his hands, bringing them to your knees. He got the hint, gently spreading them wider so he could slot between them easily.

Then you were laying down, his own eyes flicking lower and he could see the lace.

Really, your skirt was a pathetic excuse for a piece of sufficient clothing. Not that he minded given the circumstances.

Then his hands were dancing up, fingers dragging along your thighs and watching as goosebumps followed in the wake of his touch.

He was pushing your skirt up around your waist and when he finally got to see your underwear entirely he felt his heart skip a beat.

The bow at the top was adorable.

And you were right there… legs spread and only a thin piece of cloth hiding you away.

“Should I—“ he cleared his throat, given the words came out more hoarse than he intended. “Should I take these off?” His fingers looped on the string but you grabbed his wrist.

“Not yet.” Then you dragged his hand over, right above you and he could feel the heat rolling off you in waves. “The build up is just as important.”

He nodded, taking mental notes while he was still able to focus.

“Like you said, main point to focus on is here.”

His index and middle finger gently pressed down and he saw the muscles in your thighs twitch.

Noted.

Your breath came out a little heavier. “And if you slide down, just there, that’s the entrance. You can tease that through the lace as well.”

His fingers slid down to where you said, feeling the fabric cave in a little bit but that’s not what made him suck in a breath.

You were wet.

The lace already damp with your arousal, for him, and Michael felt the room start to tip slightly. His self restraint starting to lose its balance.

“You can choose to do it with your hands, but given what you— oh.”

He wasn’t thinking straight, or at all, lowering himself with little hesitation and his mouth latched onto your clit through your underwear.

A sound started to slip past your lips but you bit it back when he applied a rolling pressure with his tongue.

He wanted to hear it again.

His ears were ringing but he followed your instructions. Each one coming out in a more labored breath. His hands gripping onto the soft flesh of your thighs as he worked, focused, intent on hearing the way you tried to bite back whimpers.

And then he slid down, tongue teasing the entrance of your pussy as his nose brushed against your clit and you moaned.

It felt like he was hearing the trumpets of heaven and you tasted clean. Erotic. He didn’t know how else to describe it, but you were so fucking wet. Both from your own arousal and his saliva, that the lace was sticking to you like a second skin and he could almost see you. Almost.

And finally finally you told him to move your underwear to the side and when his eyes finally landed on your pussy he groaned before diving back in. Tongue tracing from your clit to your to your cunt and you tasted better than anything he had ever imagined.

Your back arched off the bed, teeth sinking into your bottom lip to hold back a shout.

“I wanna hear you,” he muttered, feeling hazy as his tongue flattened over your clit and his cock was so hard that it hurt.

You cried out, trying to muffle the sound with your hand and he almost missed the way you said his name because his ears were ringing.

He wanted to hear his name like that from your mouth for the rest of his life.

As if he were starving, his fingers dug into your thighs as he dragged his tongue down and started to fuck you with his tongue and lips and teeth. Being driven even further towards the brink of insanity every time you said more or right there.

Your hands twined into his hair, hips rolling up to meet his mouth and he was determined to make you come. To do it just right.

The thought of you making a mess all over his mouth made his cock twitch in his pants and he was half worried he’d finish right then and there like he was a teenager.

His eyes then flicked up, eyes catching yours and then you flat out moaned his name, the sound coming from your soul it seemed and he felt something in him snap.

Michael didn’t even realize what he was doing, two fingers dragging over your pussy before they slid inside, curving them to your body and you were so soft and fucking warm.

Then his fingers pressed against something textured and you would’ve flown off the bed if he hadn’t secured an arm over your hips.

The sounds in the room dancing just below the volume of the music were lewd. Sinful. Your body being contorted in pleasure as you grinded against his face.

All he could sense was you.

Then your muscles tensed, your head rolling back and God the way his name dripped off your tongue.

“Michael, I’m— I’m…”

And then you came, your pussy tightening in a pulse around his fingers and he could feel your heartbeat on his tongue.

He was lost. Completely.

Not being able to stop himself even as your legs tightened around his head. Not even as you cried it’s too much.

He wanted more like a man who had stumbled across paradise after wandering in the desert for too long.

Just too fucking thirsty.

“Michael.”

Then his lips and chin were suddenly very, very wet.

He blinked as he pulled back, meeting your wide eyes. Watching as your gaze flicked down the wetness covering the lower half of his face and you sucked in a breath.

His mind was short circuiting.

He’d read about when a woman does that, though not super often and Michael hadn’t even let it occur to mind that he could make someone do that.

Make you do that.

“Oh my God, I’m sorry. I didn’t even know I could—“

He felt like his common sense had taken a seat in the back of his mind because next thing he knew he was pushing you back onto the bed, crawling over you and lips crashing into yours. Hips rolling with a mind of their own and that first sensation of warmth and pressure against his cock even through his slacks made him shiver.

It was messy and wonderful. Teeth hitting against each other and tongues sliding in their own dance.

Your hands fumbled with his zipper and then—

“Fuck,” Michael’s face fell into the crook of your neck when he felt your hand wrap around him.

Your hand dragged up along the shaft, thumb swiping against his tip that had been leaking pre-come for who knew how long and he shuddered against you, hips seeking out more as he thrusted into your hand.

He was in such a lust induced haze he felt like the world wasn’t even real anymore. Just you and him and the edge heaven at the tips of his fingers.

It wasn’t enough. Not nearly.

Michael was desperate. His hips rolling in search of more and he accidentally slid the tip of his cock right up along your pussy. Gathering wetness and you were just so fucking warm— he wasn’t thinking. Honestly, he wasn’t.

His mouth met yours again and then his hips lowered, cock sliding in instead of up and he felt whatever willpower he had break.

You felt so fucking good and then you moaned and before the next breath he was in all the way to tne hilt.

His heavy lidded eyes met your own and when he slowly dragged out, watching in fascination as your pupils expanded into pools of ink with your mouth dropped open… who was he to put a stop to this?

So he thrusted back in. Back out. Slow and deliberate and so fucking wonderful.

“You feel like heaven,” his words came out broken, his own moan fracturing his speech.

His name left your lips in a cry, legs wrapped around his hips and deeper he went. He wanted to go deeper in ways that weren’t physically possible and his eyes flicked down. Seeing the way your pussy took him so well and he didn’t even feel human right now.

Michael’s thrust became harder and his pace quickened into something more erratic and wild, mouth on yours, sloppy and wet and when he felt you tighten around him as you came again he tipped right over the edge with you.

Seeing stars behind his eyes as he came and he couldn’t stop. Something in his soul begging him to keep going. Making sure he got all of it inside of you, not a drop wasted because it really would’ve been such a fucking waste.

After what felt like a daydream finally concluding, Michael collapsed on top of you. Breathing heavy and his heartbeat so loud he felt like he was underwater.

Your arms were still wrapped around him as he settled between your thighs and against your chest, trying to catch your breath.

Your bodies were covered in sweat that made the air a bit cool against the skin and when he shivered, both from the temperature and his body coming down from the shock of pleasure, did it dawn on Michael of what exactly he just did.

God forgive me.

Slowly, he raised himself up on his arms, not being able to help himself as he watched his cock pull out, both of your releases covering him and seeping out of you. It was probably the hottest thing he’d ever seen but it wasn’t enough to overshadow the reality of what he’d just done.

“I didn’t mean to—“

“Michael, that was…” you blinked up at the ceiling. Looking fucked out and like an angel in his bed sheets. “Wow.”

He blushed, despite what he just did to you. Michael didn’t regret it, that he was sure of. In fact, he knew he wanted to do it again.

“I think I still need some more practice.” He muttered, leaning down to catch your lips with his and you hummed.

“Agreed. Same time next Sunday?”

He shook his head as he pulled back, teeth catching onto your bottom lip. “I was thinking tomorrow.”

michael jackson masterlist

just the feeling of his hot, throbbing member twitching inside your strained little hole as you struggle to not push him out. nothing else. why would he? you two are just friends!

he would just say, “watch the movie, pretty. nothing’s happenin’.” the faux-reassurance evident in his voice as he licks wet stripes all over your neck, behind your ear, wrapping your hair around his fist to rotate your head in every which way he wants, having total control of you.

and if you’d start whimpering into nothingness, he’d be like: “what’cha whimpering for, baby? ‘m not even doin’ anything to you.” playing fucking mind games with you, pretending he’s not licking you up and savouring the taste of your perfume on his tongue.

and if he feels extra handsy, he’d innocently toy with your little necklace, the “m” shoved between your boobs. he bought that necklace in a strange fit of jealousy and possessiveness, and now you wear it all the time.

and the whole time your pussy’s making pathetic, creamy sounds as you drool all over his base, where the two of you are merged, making him all shiny with your slick. ♡

michael leaned back nearby with his arms resting along the edge of the hot tub, curls damp around his face, while he watched you with obvious amusement.

“you know,” he said casually, brushing wet curls back from his forehead, “for somebody always talkin’ big, you scare real easy.”

you looked over immediately. “i do not.”

michael laughed softly under his breath.

you’d known michael long enough to recognize that exact look in his eyes before he even said anything else. the one that usually meant he was about to annoy you on purpose.

the two of you had been attached at the hip since childhood. your families blurred together so often growing up that half your memories included michael somewhere in the background of them — sitting beside you at family parties, showing up to your house unannounced (and vice versa), dragging you outside in the middle of summer evenings because he was bored and wanted company. somewhere along the way, physical closeness had stopped meaning much between you years ago.

hugs.

leaning against each other.

holding hands.

cuddling while watching movies.

being close to michael had never required thought.

leaves rustled softly in the night breeze.

michael’s eyes suddenly shifted past your shoulder.

the teasing look on his face faltered, his mouth flattening slightly as his attention fixed on something behind you.

“…wait.”

you narrowed your eyes at that. “michael.”

“no, seriously.” his brows furrowed now while he stared harder behind you. “what is that?”

you rolled your eyes.

“i hate you.”

“i’m serious,” he insisted, though the corners of his mouth twitched slightly. “right there.”

you turned your head despite yourself.

your eyes scanned once. twice. nothing.

you started turning back toward him with an unimpressed look already forming–

michael lunged forward suddenly with both his hands toward the water behind you.

a startled squeal escaped you as you grabbed onto him on pure reflex, your arms wrapping tightly around his shoulders while you nearly climbed halfway up him in a panic.

michael burst into loud laughter. bright and boyish.

“oh my god!” you gasped out, still clutching him while he laughed harder against your shoulder. “you are actually evil.”

“it was funny!” he argued through laughter.

“it was not funny!”

you smacked his shoulder lightly, trying not to laugh and failing miserably once his laughter got worse.

michael’s laughter had always been contagious. it was impossible to stay mad at him for long when he was laughing like that.

“yes it was,” he grinned. “you should’ve seen your face.”

“you practically climbed into my lap,” he added.

“i trusted you!”

“that’s your own fault.”

“oh my god, shut up.”

another laugh escaped you before you could stop it.

michael pointed at you instantly.

“see? you’re laughin’ now.”

you groaned dramatically, letting your forehead fall briefly against his shoulder while his laughter softened into quieter little giggles beneath his breath.

eventually, both your breaths started to settle.

except neither of you moved apart.

your arms still rested loosely around his shoulders. michael’s hands still held your waist below the surface.

comfortable. normal.

well, it should’ve felt normal.

instead, the silence that settled between you suddenly felt…heavy somehow.

different.

your forehead still rested lightly against michael’s shoulder while the water moved softly around you both, rippling between your bodies.

neither of you spoke.

you could feel michael breathing now. 

not just the movement of his chest beneath your hands, but the actual rhythm of it. slow at first, then slightly uneven when you shifted subconsciously closer.

his hands tightened around your waist. small. almost unnoticeable.

except you noticed it immediately.

your brows pulled together faintly.

slowly, you lifted your head from his shoulder.

michael was already looking at you.

the patio lights reflected faintly in his eyes while water dripped from the curls hanging around his forehead. his expression had gone strangely still now, his hands warm where they rested against your waist.

neither of you moved apart.

you’re not sure why.

usually moments like this broke naturally on their own. one of you would laugh. tease the other. splash water. say something stupid.

instead, michael just kept looking at you.

your eyes flicked down toward his mouth before you could stop yourself.

bad idea.

because the second your gaze dropped, michael noticed. his brows pinched for a fraction of a second.

then, before you could really process it, michael looked away first.

his jaw flexed.

you felt his throat move against your arm when he swallowed.

“…christ,” he muttered quietly under his breath.

heat crawled slowly up your neck. you swallowed once before forcing out, “what?”

michael shook his head once, almost like he was trying to clear it.

“nothin’.”

his voice sounded lower now. rougher.

the water shifted softly around you both when you adjusted yourself, your legs brushing against his–

michael inhaled sharply.

the sound froze you.

oh.

your heartbeat stumbled hard in your chest.

because suddenly you could feel it too.

the reaction pressed unmistakably against your thigh.

heat rushed instantly to your face.

michael went still beneath your hands.

for a second, neither of you said anything.

michael laughed quietly under his breath, though it sounded more embarrassed than amused now. one hand came up to cover his face as he looked away.

“….m’sorry,” he murmured.

your brows pulled together slightly.

of course he was apologizing. that was so michael.

when he’s struggling to keep himself composed, he still sounded more concerned about crossing a line than anything else.

you'd be lying if you said his reaction to you wasn't turning you on.

 “….don’t apologize,” you breathed.

michael looked at you. his curls hung damp against his forehead now, water dripping slowly down the side of his neck while his hands stayed fixed carefully at your waist like he didn’t trust himself to move them anywhere else.

he looked away again, exhaling sharply through his nose, almost like a disbelieving laugh at himself.

“just... give me a second,” he murmured. "it'll go away."

michael took slow, controlled breaths like he was genuinely trying to calm himself down.

then before you could overthink it, the words slipped out softly.

“….do you want me to help you?”

michael’s eyes shut briefly while a quiet breath escaped him, almost strained. unfortunately for him, the boner he'd been trying so hard to kill came back tenfold.

one of his hands slid higher instinctively along your waist before stopping there hard enough to make your pulse jump.

“i—”

he cut himself off.

his head tipped back slightly instead, exposing the long line of his throat while he stared up toward the sky for a second like he was physically trying to pull himself together.

it only made him look worse.

or better.

no definitely better.

water glided slowly down the column of his neck while his chest rose unevenly beneath your hands.

finally, michael looked back at you again. wrecked.

he swallowed once before replying quietly, “you don’t have to do anything.”

your heart hammered painfully against your ribs.

“i know,” you whispered.

“i’m asking if you want me to.”

for a second, michael just stared at you.

then slowly, his forehead dropped forward until it rested gently against your temple. 

his eyes closed.

his lashes brushed softly against your skin.

the flush along his neck had darkened now, spreading toward his jaw while his breathing stayed uneven against you.

when he finally spoke, his voice came out rough and quiet. 

“…i’m a gentleman.”

your chest tightened at the sound of it.

the words seemed to hang between you for a moment.

slowly, you lifted one hand from his shoulder, cradling his face gently until he looked at you again.

his eyes were dark now.

unfocused almost.

still trying so hard to hold himself together for you.

your thumb brushed lightly against his cheek before you leaned in just enough to press a soft kiss against the corner of his mouth.

michael inhaled sharply, head tilting instinctively to chase your lips.

then he was kissing you properly.

one hand slid up the side of your neck as he pulled you closer, the kiss hard and messy, like he’d been trying not to do this for far too long.

your noses bumped awkwardly together between breaths, both of you laughing softly into the kiss before it melted right back into something hotter.

michael bit gently at your bottom lip, tugging it between his teeth.

a soft sound escaped you before you kissed him again.

his hand dragged back down your body until it settled low on your waist, fingers spreading carefully just above your ass.

carefully and still hesitant. you could feel it.

your hands slid down his arms slowly until they covered his, guiding them lower.

michael broke the kiss at that.

the sound you let slip when his hands finally squeezed your ass made his head drop against yours.

“you’re gonna kill me,” he muttered breathlessly.

you pushed your hips closer against his.

michael let out a shaky breath as your hands slid up the back of his neck, fingers catching slightly at the damp curls near his nape.

when he kissed you again, it felt almost desperate now.

like he physically couldn’t stop himself for more than a few seconds at a time. his nose bumped softly against yours between kisses while his hands tightened around your body, guiding you higher on his lap beneath the bubbling water.

the pressure of his hips against yours pulled a gasp from your throat.

your fingers tightened instinctively at the base of his curls as you broke away from the kiss for air.

“michael—”

he kissed the corner of your mouth before you could finish saying his name, breathing hard enough now that you could feel it against your skin.

“i know, baby, i know” he murmured softly.

you nuzzled your face into the crook of his neck. he smelled like chlorine and the faint traces of his cologne, warm amber and soft florals mixing with the heat of his damp skin.

michael’s hands guided your hips against his beneath the water, the movement slow at first before his restraint started slipping little by little.

soft sounds escaped you against his neck while michael’s breathing turned rough near your ear, his grip tightening every time you pressed closer to him.

“baby…” he breathed, almost strained now.

the name sent warmth blooming low in your stomach.

this was the first time he’d ever called you that, and you loved the way it sounded coming from him.

his groans started mixing with the breathier moans spilling from your lips as his hands squeezed more firmly at your backside, the bubbling water sloshing harder around you both as he buried his face against your shoulder.

every slow drag of your hips only made the ache low in your stomach worse.

but it still wasn’t enough.

you needed more of him.

“want more,” you whined softly against his neck.

michael’s hips stuttered against yours at the sound of your voice, a quiet groan escaping him.

“yeah?” he murmured breathlessly, pulling back just enough to look at you properly. 

strands of damp hair clung messily near your cheeks while your lips looked swollen from kissing, slightly parted every time another shaky breath slipped out of you. your eyes were glossed over.

you looked completely ruined.

just for him.

“i’ll give my sweet girl whatever she wants,” he said lowly, with a rasp slipping into his voice.

something about hearing him say it made your thighs press tighter around him. if michael noticed, he didn't mention it.

“anything she asks for.” he added.

“anything?” you responded in a whisper.

michael’s eyes stayed fixated on yours for a second before he repeated it quieter this time.

“anything.”

your stomach tightened hard at the sound of that.

“want you inside me,” you whispered sweetly, your hips pressing against his again at the thought of him giving it to you.

michael bit down on his lip, a crooked smile pulling at the corners of his mouth.

you sounded so desperate for him.

and god was he just as desperate for you.

maybe worse.

even now, with your body pressed against his and his restraint hanging by a thread, he still tried to collect himself before he spoke again.

because he was a gentleman.

or at least he was trying very hard to be one.

“go on, take what you want,” he murmured roughly.

your hands immediately reached for the waistband of his swim shorts, tugging them down enough to free his dick.

though you couldn't see much through the bubbling water, you felt him. his warmth, his thickness, his length. 

the weight of him against your hand alone made your breath catch.

michael groaned softly under his breath, his head falling briefly against your shoulder while his hands tightened instinctively along your thighs.

you shifted carefully onto your knees to give him room while he pulled your swim bottoms aside.

the feeling of him brushing against your bare pussy made you arch into him.

“fuck…” michael hissed quietly, breathing turned heavier near your ear as his hands slid lower along your thighs to steady you.

your face buried closer into the crook of his neck while another broken sound escaped you.

“michael…” your voice cracked softly.

the slow push of his tip alone already had your head spinning. he barely gave you room to breathe.

“fuuck, baby,” he groaned into your shoulder, dragging the words out low and strained. “you’re so fucking tight.”

you nuzzled closer into his neck with a shaky whimper.

“s’too big, michael…” you hiccuped softly.

you were ruining him.

the way your voice broke at just the tip being inside you was doing something dangerous to his self-control.

“shh, it’s okay, baby,” he murmured gently, one hand stroking your damp hair.

his other hand slid lower against your thigh before tightening carefully at your hip.

"tell me if it hurts," he murmured, lips brushing softly against your temple.

then he started easing you down onto him properly.

slow.

your mouth dropped open at the stretch as he lowered you inch by inch, his grip firm enough to guide you while still giving you time to adjust. every small movement made another uneven breath leave your lips.

the heat of the water around you only made everything feel more overwhelming. his cock felt impossibly warm inside you, thick enough that each inch made your body tense before slowly relaxing around him.

michael’s forehead pressed against yours as he watched every reaction on your face.

“that’s it,” he whispered hoarsely. “doin’ so good for me.”

another inch.

your fingers tightened against his shoulders, a soft moan escaping before you could stop it.

his own breathing was wrecked, rough against your skin while his hands trembled slightly where they held you.

like he was using every bit of control he had not to lose patience and pull you down all at once.

instead, he kept guiding you carefully.

letting you feel every inch.

the stretch burned for a second before melting into warmth, your body slowly yielding around him while soft broken whimpers left your throat.

“fuck,” michael groaned quietly, eyes squeezing shut for a second. “you feel so fucking good.”

you buried your face deeper into his neck as another wave of fullness hit you.

then finally your hips settled flush against his.

both of you gasped at the same time.

michael’s head fell back against the edge of the tub with a low groan while his hands gripped your hips hard enough to leave marks.

“holy shit…” he breathed.

you could barely think.

he felt everywhere. warm and deep and overwhelming, filling you so completely that all you could do was sit there for a second trying to breathe through it.

his hands softened again, thumbs rubbing slow circles against your hips.

“you okay?” he asked quietly, though his voice still sounded wrecked.

you nodded weakly against him.

“mhm…”

a small smile pulled at michael’s lips before he kissed the side of your head gently.

“good girl.”

you almost sobbed at the praise. his voice alone could make you cum.

michael stayed there for a second, just holding you against him while both of you tried to recover from the feeling.

his chest rose against yours, shaky breaths fanning across your skin while his hands stayed fixed carefully at your hips like he still couldn’t believe this was real.

then slowly, he rolled his hips upward once.

the movement was shallow.

experimental.

but the drag of him inside you still pulled a broken moan straight from your throat.

michael actually whimpered at that, the sound muffled against your skin, before a strained groan followed right after.

“fuck…”

his grip tightened.

“that okay?” he asked quietly, his own voice already sounding completely gone.

you nodded quickly before he’d even fully finished asking.

“please,” you whispered.

his mouth crashed against yours again while his hips rolled into you harder this time, deeper, the movement making the water slosh violently around both of you until it spilled over the edge of the hot tub, soaking the concrete.

your fingers tangled tighter into the damp curls at the back of his neck as he kept rocking you against him slowly, every thrust deep enough to make your stomach tighten.

he couldn’t seem to stop kissing you between breaths.

messy kisses.

desperate ones.

little broken sounds slipping from his mouth every single time you clenched around him.

“you feel so fucking good,” he breathed shakily. “christ, baby…”

his restraint kept slipping in pieces.

each movement growing rougher than the last, your body meeting his like you both couldn't stop chasing the feeling.

you moaned again. soft and breathless right against his mouth.

“yeah?” he rasped. “that feel good?”

you could barely answer — or could barely hear him, to be honest.

the way he was making you feel left your head completely fuzzy. every deep drag of him inside you made your thoughts melt together until all you could focus on was him.

when you didn’t respond, he tugged you down harder onto him.

a high moan tore from your throat instantly. a sound you would’ve never thought you’d be capable of making. 

and if michael wasn’t fucking you so good, you probably would’ve been embarrassed by it. 

he pulled back just enough to look at your face, watching your expression.

“tell me.”

it didn't sound demanding.

if anything, it sounded like something he needed to hear.

“y-yes–” you gasped helplessly. “yes, yes, feels so good–”

he leaned closer to your neck and started kissing, sucking, biting, leaving marks all over your neck. 

michael cursed softly under his breath at the feeling of you clenching around him.

“shit, baby… you’re squeezin’ me so tight.”

all you could do was moan as he dragged your hips down onto him through another deep thrust that made your entire body jolt.

the praise only made the heat low in your stomach tighten harder.

another soft whine slipped from your throat before you could stop it, your face burying deeper into his neck out of instinct.

michael groaned at the sound.

“those sexy fucking sounds…”

his hips rolled up into yours again, harder this time, and your grip on him tightened hard enough to sting.

one of his hands slid up your body, long slender fingers brushing teasingly against your chest before nudging your swimsuit top up just enough for your breasts to spill out. the cooler night air nipping at your damp skin.

"so perfect." he breathed.

he leaned in, his mouth closing around your left nipple with a slow, warm suck that pulled a breath from your lungs. at the same time, the knuckles of his other hand dragged against your stomach, your ribs, the underside of your breasts, teasing every inch of sensitive skin on the way up. he cupped your breast, squeezing gently before rolling your nipple between his fingers in time with the slow pull of his mouth.

every suck, every soft bite, every flick of his tongue had your body arching into him.

you couldn’t hold the sounds back anymore.

every thrust of his hips pulled another sound out of you.

little whimpers.

broken moans.

breathy gasps right against his ear.

“fuck,” he groaned softly into your skin, almost dazed. “keep makin’ those sounds for me, baby.”

you couldn’t stop even if you wanted to. 

his mouth shifted to your other breast with a worn groan while his hand slipped lower between your bodies.

the second his thumb brushed against your clit, your entire body jerked in his arms.

“oh my god—”

the cry that left you was loud enough to echo slightly off the stone around the hot tub.

“mm, that it?” he rasped, thumb circling you again with shaky desperation. “that what you needed, baby?”

you nodded helplessly against him, barely able to breathe properly now.

the feeling of him thrusting up into you while his thumb rubbed slow, messy circles against your clit was too much all at once.

your thighs started trembling around his waist.

“michael, please.”

“i know,” he breathed quickly. “i got you. i got you.”

he kept thrusting into you deep and slow, but the rhythm was getting sloppier every second. like he physically couldn’t focus anymore with the way you kept whining against him.

“fuck…” he groaned softly. “you’re so sensitive.”

another moan tore out of you when his thumb pressed a little harder.

every little movement pulled another noise from your throat.

your eyes kept fluttering closed from the overwhelming sensation while michael watched your face completely unravel for him, his own expression looking just as gone.

“look at me, baby. c’mon,” he breathed softly.

your eyes fluttered back toward him.

the second michael saw the tears gathering along your lashes from how overwhelming everything felt, something in him completely snapped.

“fuck—”

his forehead dropped against yours with a groan so deep it almost sounded painful.

his thrusts lost what little rhythm they had left after that.

harder now.

messier.

his hands gripping your hips almost desperately while he kept kissing you between breaths like he couldn’t get enough.

“close?” he rasped against your mouth.

all you could do was nod frantically.

your fingers clutched desperately at his shoulders as another wave hit you.

it was too much.

his mouth on your neck.

his thumb rubbing against you perfectly.

the way he kept filling you so deep every time his hips snapped upward.

your thighs started shaking hard around his waist.

“i-i’m gonna–”

“lemme feel it, baby,” michael interrupted, voice breaking. he sounded completely gone. "please..."

a soft curse slipped from him the second your body tightened around him.

“that’s it,” he groaned. “good girl… fuck, that’s it.”

his thumb moved faster.

messier now.

like he was getting desperate too.

the pressure finally snapped.

your whole body jolted against him with a broken cry, your face burying into his shoulder while your body tightened hard around him, nails scratching at his back.

michael groaned loudly at the feeling, his hips stuttering completely for a second.

“shit–”

your vision blurred from how overwhelming it felt, soft little sobs and moans getting caught in your throat while wave after wave kept hitting you.

michael fucked you through all of it, one arm wrapped tightly around your back while his forehead pressed against your shoulder.

“fuck…” he groaned shakily. “atta girl.”

then quieter, almost like the words slipped out accidentally.

“been wantin’ this so bad.”

you clenched around him hard at the confession.

michael groaned hard, head tipping back against the edge of the hot tub.

his lips brushed against your jaw when he looked back at you again, expression completely wrecked.

“you don’t even realize what you do to me sometimes,” he breathed shakily.

“been tryin’ so hard to be good.”

another deep thrust made your breath catch.

“every time you bend over during those stupid twister games…” he groaned softly. “or prance around in those tiny little swimsuits…”

“honestly so mean of you.”

another broken groan slipped from him right after, his face burying deeper into your neck like he was trying to hide there.

little strained sounds kept leaving him every few seconds while his hips lost what little rhythm they had left.

“can’t—” he choked out softly. “fuck, baby…”

his grip tightened almost painfully at your hips before he finally buried himself deep inside you with a whine, warm spurts of cum filling you as his whole body went tense against yours.

you could feel him shaking slightly while he held you close, breathing unevenly against your skin as the water settled softly around both of you again.

the aftershocks rolled softly through both of you, fading little by little into soft tremors.

the world around you felt silent except for the sounds of bubbling water and uneven breathing. 

slowly, you pulled back just enough to look at him properly again, your arms still resting loosely around his shoulders.

his curls were a mess.

lips swollen.

flushed all the way down his neck.

and the completely blissed-out look on his face made something warm burst in your chest.

the second michael noticed you staring, a breathless laugh slipped from him, his teeth catching briefly against his bottom lip when his grin widened.

you laughed too.

because somehow, even after all of that, the two of you still ended up the same way you always did.

still just you and michael.

───୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ───

ummm i didnt know how to end it butttt SECOND FICCCCC r we getting somewhere guys

also pls dont acc have sex in hot tubs or pools😭😭 (as hot as it is</3)