boy princess

cw: 18+ minors dni — fingering, bratty!reader, protective!michael, fluff, age gap, (michael is early 40s and reader is mid20s),

authors note: guys i never ever thought ill see the day where i would be writing a mj fic but i couldn’t help myself. this was also highly requested from one of my bestfriends.

so to mel, this one is for you baby!

michael jackson masterlist ༻ navi

mature!michael who makes sure he’s touching a part of your body at all times. whether thats him having his arm wrapped around your waist when you’re on the red carpet, or his hand gripping your thigh, when you’re sitting together during interviews. he will always make sure that he’s touching you.

mature!michael who’s normally very soft spoken, and kind to his fans, suddenly gets very protective when he overhears them saying sly things about you.

“hey michael who’s that?”

“is that your girlfriend?”

“she’s probably using you for money!”

“she’s such a gold digger!”

“hey.” michael snaps, turning around with your hand tightly locked around his. michael points to the person in the crowd who uttered those nasty words about you, making sure that they’re taken out of the venue with quickness.

when it comes to his sweet girl, he doesn’t play.

mature!michael who never saw himself as a man who needed sex all the time until he met you. there’s just something so addicting about the way you smell, the way you taste that makes it almost impossible for him to keep his hands off of you. especially when you guys are out in public.

“mikey!” you giggle, while he’s peppering kisses down your neck. you guys are on your way to an award show, and after michael saw you in that tight fitting black dress. oh boy, he just can’t keep his hands to himself.

“c’mon let me get a taste,” he pleads, his hand trailing down to your legs. you spread your legs without even thinking, his long, slender fingers finding your bare cunt.

michael digs his head in the crook of your neck letting out a groan.

“baby, what’d i tell you about walkin around with no panties on.”

you gasp when you feel a light tap on your pussy.

“i-it was showing through the dress so i thought it’ll be better if i didn’t wear any.” you let out a small moan, when you feel the thickness of a finger pressing inside of you.

“michael.” you whine, grabbing onto his arm. not caring that you’re scrunching up his suit.

michael lifts his head, crashing his lips against yours in a deep, messy kiss, while he continues to pump into you with just one finger.

“more.” you beg, bucking your hips up to create more friction. to get him to slide in another finger or maybe two.

you let out another pitiful whine, when michael removes his finger, and rubs it around your opening like he’s trying to collect more of your nectar before he places his finger in his mouth, groaning at the taste of you on his tongue.

he sits back in his seat, fixing his hard on.

“mikey.” you shriek, looking at him with wide eyes.

he just shrugs, pulling your dress back down, and making sure you look presentable.

“maybe wear your panties next time and then you’ll get to cum.”

mature!michael who’s favourite love language after touch is acts of service. he loves to randomly buy you jewellery, shoes, clothes, just because he can’t help but get turned on seeing you wearing his money.

i think it’s safe to say that mature!michael is one of a kind, and you’re not only grateful but thankful that you both crossed paths.

AN: guys would you believe me if i said that i wrote this while on my work break 🫣

cw: 18+ minors dni — fem!reader, mating press, creampie, guys this one is just smut smut smuttt

michael jackson masterlist ༻ navi

“nghh— fuck!” you moan, feeling the thickness of michael’s tip hit your cervix over and over again.

you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling his lips to yours in a messy kiss.

“it feel so good, godddd. faster, please.” you whine, your lips brushing his with every word.

“oh yeah?” michael says, starting to quicken the pace of his thrusts. the movement of his hips were lethal before, but now that they’re plummeting into you with such speed, you can’t help the way that your legs are shaking while they’re wrapped around his waist.

“oh yes. yes, yessss!” you scream in pleasure. you honestly won’t be surprised if the whole city heard you.

“you gon cum for me baby.” michael whispers in your ear, filling you with the whole length of his cock. you gasp when he stays there, his pelvis grinding into you like he’s trying to puncture your lungs.

it damn sure feels like it.

your mouth opens in a silent scream at the sudden pressure and all you can manage is a weak nod.

“use your words.”

you feel the sudden emptiness when michael pulls out until just the thick head of his mushroom tip is at your entrance and you whine, bucking your hips so you can try and slide him back inside of you.

“please…please i wanna cum. i wanna cum so bad daddy!” your mouth was running at a hundred miles per second that you didn’t even realise what you just called him. and you’re so horny and desperate to cum that you didn’t notice the way michael just completely froze above you, his eyes darkening.

your eyes widen when michael grabs onto the back of your thighs and pushes down on them, practically folding you in half. without a single warning, he plunges back inside of you with quick, hard thrusts.

“fuckkk. you can’t say that baby.” michael let’s a groan, pushing his whole body weight on top of you so your ankles are near enough touching your ears.

“what— ahhh!” you moan immediately after the words spill out your mouth. “fuckkkk, im gonna cum!” you yell, when michael reaches his hand down between your bodies to rub tight circles on your swollen clit.

“yeah do it. cum on daddy’s cock baby.” you don’t even hear his words because all you hear is ringing in your eyes and dark spots start to cloud your vision at the force of your orgasm.

and you definitely don’t hear the guttural groans in your ear and the feeling of michaels cum flooding your insides.

that’s probably the hardest you’ve came in your entire life.

you let out a small whine when michael pulls out, and lays down beside you.

“c’mere.” he coos, pulling you into his chest and placing a kiss on your forehead.

“that was so… good.” you pant.

“you’re something else you know that right.” michael smirks, looking down at you.

“what?” you can’t help but smile at the look on his face.

“calling me daddy?” he raises a brow.

“oh.” you laugh, hiding your face in his chest. he gives your forehead another kiss before getting up and running a shower for you both.

if he fucks you like that… then you’ll be calling him daddy a lot more!

he wonders how much you can handle until you’re crying to cum, how long can he tease your pretty clit until you’re jerking your body up and down and his other hand has to hold you down to stay still. michael moans your name out, leaning back in his chair as he thinks about you in your shorts, your ass looking so voluptuous in them. he’s wondered if you ever seen his print because of it, a part of him hoping you did, another part of him, the more sane part, hoping you didn’t.

michael continues to think about you, your pretty face and tears that cover them, your pouty self as you complain about the most basic things your boyfriend should be able to fix but michael ends up fixing it anyway. your hypothetical moans really control everything about this man, fuck he needs you.

he ends up cumming all over his hand and pants as he thrusts up, thinking about the way your pussy would feel around his dick, sucking him good, the way he knows you could. he needs to have your hands on him, needs to feel you driving him wild with your kisses, watching you struggle to get a word out cause you can’t believe you’re getting fucked by someone older. that shit alone drives him wild, he’s wondered if you thought about getting fucked by a man his age or by him.

"i'll be good i'll fuck you real good baby please"

OFF THE RECORD, michael jackson.

— thinking about how shy and reserved michael is in public but the filthiest whenever he’s left alone with you entirely too long.

wc: do you really wanna know how filthy he can get or not?

content—18+ minors do not interact, explicit sexual themes. fluff, pet names, a consenting king, sensual kissing, whimpering, dry humpingg, semi-public sex, orgasm denial. hope i did him some justiceee mwuah!

something should’ve warned you there was a mischievous little thing buried somewhere deep inside the shy gentleman you knew as michael.

maybe it was the way his brothers teased him relentlessly whenever interviews painted michael as some impossibly “innocent” boy turned global superstar, remotely untouched by anything suggestive.

jermaine was always the one to laugh the hardest about it.

‘man if only y’all knew!’

and michael? he’d immediately duck his head afterward, shoulders shaking with embarrassed laughter insisting that the siblings stop. even as that little grin betrayed him completely.

was michael inexperienced? very much so, respectfully and faithfully by choice. but innocent? if we’re keeping it off the record? not nearly as much as people wanted to believe. because while the public saw his bashfulness, his brothers saw everything else firsthand growing up on the road with him.

they saw the way teenage michael greeted beautiful women backstage and at appearances. taking fan numbers and storing them in his pants during performances. shaking the hands of influential women all polite with soft spoken manners and lowered lashes everyone found so adorable. meanwhile michael would look them over appreciatively the second they walked away.

poking a tongue inside of his cheek the moment he felt the corner of his mouth twitch. shyness doing its best to disguise that charming little grin whenever he caught someone flustered by him.

and ever single time one of his brothers caught him doing it, the teasing started immediately.

‘mike swear he slick’

‘boy ain’t ever been that shy’

‘she got that boy nose widee open’

and michael would always deny it furiously afterwards. cheeks growing hot as he hid his face. but the evidence kept pilling up over the years.

because the same shy boy who struggled holding eye contact far too long was also the very same boy who’d gotten caught flipping through a playboy magazine somewhere in the old home videos of the jackson family archives.

“michael they filmin’ you..” joseph’s voice spilled past the camcorder.

the glossy pages flashing across the screen before he scrambled to hide it. horrified. shy glances overshadowing those curious eyes, curious hands, and curious mind. still trying to act innocent after the damning evidence was presented as they took a trip down memory lane.

you should’ve known then that there was something simmering quietly beneath thise cardigans, shy laughs, and gentlemanly habits.

or maybe it was the late night phone calls.

the spontaneous kind that michael was known for making whenever loneliness crept in too heavily. fame surrounding him constantly yet somehow it still left him isolated in ways most people would never understand. so, sometimes in the middle of the night, he’d simply call someone. anyone. whether it’d be family, a friend, or a fan. just to hear another human voice untouched by expectations, cameras, or screaming crowds.

and one random night, you answered. but neither of you knew just how dangerous that would become.

because somewhere between soft laughter through telephone static and whispered conversations stretching towards sunrise, michael stopped sounding like the biggest star in the world and started sounding like a man starving to be known.

maybe that’s why you never noticed the dangerous little shift happening beneath all that sweetness.

not until tonight.

the bass inside studio 54 practically rattled through your ribs as colored lights spun wildly across the crowded dance floor. disco balls splattering shimmering reflections against sweaty bodies moving shoulder to shoulder beneath mirrored ceilings and cigarette haze as ‘Get On The Floor’ blasted loud enough to swallow every coherent thought in your head.

and somehow michael still found you in the middle of all that chaos. grin spreading the moment your eyes met across the dance floor. all bright, boyish, and playful.

you barely had time to laugh before he was suddenly in front of you. moving effortlessly with the music while that infectious laugh from the song spilled from him in real time.

“c’mon!” he teased, reaching out for your hands before twirling you beneath him.

and god could michael dance. not just perform, but dance. feel every beat and rhythm the way only he seems to. moving effortlessly beneath the flashing lights, spins and footwork smooth enough to make your head turn trying to keep up with him.

big hands settling on against your waist, guiding himself around you before slipping away again. never too long, just enough to leave a lingering warmth behind. while shoulders bounce lightly to the beat as lights painted shifting colors across his face.

until a sudden finger poked against your waist, earning a squeal before he smoothly caught your hips again to steady you against him.

“oh you ticklish?” he teased.

the crowd surging tighter around you both, bodies pressed so close across the dance floor that you found yourself drifting behind michael one too many times. swallowed by the growing chaos. but each time it happened, michael’s hand found you almost instantly.

warm fingers curling around your wrist. your waist. your hand. keeping you close.

by the third time a man stumbled into you michael pulled you safely against him before you disappeared into the crowd entirely.

“you okay?” his brows pinched with concern.

“i’m fine mikey, promise..” you nodded, placing a reassuring hand against his chest.

but his hand stayed firm against your waist, protective. possessive in a way that felt strangely natural on him. moving you away swiftly when another crowd surged pushed up against your back. eyes darting around the club before he leaned toward bill near the edge of the dance floor.

“can we find somewhere quieter?”

within minutes, you were being carefully guided through the club, bill ushering you both to a quiet section he managed to carve out. tucked away behind heavy velvet curtains. keeping curious eyes and wandering strangers away while the muffled pulse of disco vibrated through the walls around you.

privacy, or atleast the closest thing michael jackson could get too it. now there was only this little pocket of quiet bill had secured for the both of you. for you.

colored flecks slipped through the seams, scattering fractured reds, blues, and golds across michael’s face every few seconds while shards of mirrored light shimmered throughout his fro like stars.

and suddenly you could really look at him.

the sharp line of his jaw, the graceful slope of his nose, that soft glow of disco resting against his brown skin as he sank comfortably into the sculpted conversation pit. a breathless laugh slipped from him as he caught his breath from the dance floor.

so handsome. and for once? he didn’t look away when you caught him staring.

he held it.

wide fawn eyes returning returning the favor as they dragging slowly over you beneath the dim lights, pearly teeth catching against his bottom lip in a slow bite. taking his time as though he hadn’t gotten a proper look at you all night.

heat crawled into your cheeks beneath his attention. not because he’d never looked at you before, but because he’d never looked this long. michael wasn’t even touching you but being looked at this carefully felt so much more overwhelming.

“your cute when you get all shy..” he murmured, head tilting slightly as his eyes flickered down to your lips. before slowly finding yours again. like he couldn’t quite figure out where he wanted to look.

and somehow hearing him say it made the heat that crept down your spine worse.

“you look so pretty,” he admitted quietly, the compliment barely above a whisper. like he’d meant to keep it to himself. “real pretty.”

the words settling between you, as his fingers absentmindedly traced along your calf. thumb brushing back and forth in lazy strokes all while his gaze lingered on his gorgeous girl.

“been thinkin’ that all night.” he confessed an moment later, brown eyes dropping briefly with a shy laugh. “ i don’t think i tell you enough.”

but the thing was, michael told you plenty. he always had. even during those countless late night calls where he’d sneak compliments in during conversations when he thought you weren’t paying attention.

but this felt different. because for the first time, michael wasn’t hiding how much he enjoyed looking at you. wasn’t disguising it being nervous glances or bashful smiles. he was letting himself stare, letting himself admire you openly. and somehow that honesty made him more vulnerable than compliment ever could.

then he leaned closer, slow enough for you to stop him if you wanted. close enough for his expensive cologne to wrap around you warm and dizzying. carrying traces of the night still lingering on his skin.

his mouth drifting towards the corner of your lips, a soft kiss. just before crossing to the other side, pressing another. equally patient.

and when michael finally pulled back, there was hardly any space between you at all. every breath shared as his mouth hovered just beneath yours. every word grazing as he spoke, “can i sweet girl?”

the question careful. patient. like your answer matter more than anything else. like he genuinely needed your permission. as if he needed to know you were okay with whatever he was about to do.

then his thumb lifted, moving with gentle hesitation that’d been woven into every tender thing he did. while the pad of it traced slowly along your bottom lip. from one corner to the other. his gaze following the movement as if he’d been distracted by it himself.

“please..?” he added softly.

the nod came before you could stop it, like your body decided it was sure before your mind. and michael released a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. capturing your lips like a gentleman trying so hard not to stop being one. letting himself learn the feeling of your plush lips as his dragged across yours softly.

and when he finally pulled back, it wasn’t much. barely enough to separate. barely enough to breathe.

one hand tangling in your hair. tilting your head back just enough to deepen the angle. breathing ragged into your open mouth like he couldn't get enough. while another slipped higher, slender fingers leaving a scorching trail as they curl gently behind your knee.

a quiet request. an invitation.

guiding you closer, letting you feel that hard line of him settle against your pussy.

and my god could you feel it.

“there you go pretty girl..”

his breath warm and wet against your lips, soothing and soft even as your hips drop down in his lap, chasing that heavy pressure that sent a buzz through your clit. fingers tightening gently in your hair as he pulled you flush against his chest, meeting your hips with a slow rock.

his hands dipping to your hips, fingers digging possessively at the flesh of your ass as he held you gently in place. your tongue slipping out to taste his bottom lip, sucking it softly into your mouth with a wet pop.

“y-you make it so hard” michael whimpered into your mouth.

“so hard t’remember i’m supposed to be a gentleman with you” words slurring together as his head fell back against the velvet cushion. exposing that long, graceful throat as his hips jerked up involuntarily, rolling once, twice. “so hard not to ruin you…”

the words sounding almost devastating coming from someone so soft spoken. like wanting you this badly genuinely terrified him, which somehow only made you want him more.

and he was hard. so hard.

and so dangerously close to right where you needed him to be but instead leaning down to place a gentle kiss along your shoulder where the straps of your top had slipped.

“but you just feel so good,” finding your frilled thong peaking beneath your skirt. plush folds practically eating the fabric, “i bet she’s so pretty when she’s all wet and sticky for me”

lips brushing over the sweet hollow of your collarbone before, guiding your pretty face back down to his as he kisses you again, disgustingly slow this time. his tongue sliding against yours, deep and lazy as his fingertips squeezing higher, hiking your skirt up inch by reckless inch until the soft swell of your bare ass finally met air. like he was savoring every second. like he'd waited so long for this, that he needed to remember what it tasted like.

before you knew it five of your manicured fingers scratching along the soft curls at his nape while the others dug into his knee, holding your body and strained thighs steady as you helped him drag that clit against his throbbing dick. the thick pads of his fingers curling around the stringy band of your panties.

yanking. pulling.

practically dropping your pussy onto him just to meet halfway with hard, desperate thrusts against you. meeting the rhythm you'd started without even realizing it. mouth opening wider for you, tongue slipping out to chase yours, tasting like expensive champagne and something richer. sweeter.

“oh my fucking g— mich..michael” a shuddering whine against his mouth. “just like thattt,”

the weight of him undeniable beneath you, pressing flush into all the right places through the thin layer of his briefs that you both insistently drag of your soaked clit across. “please don’t stop baby..”

and why would he?

his hips rolling with you now, chasing every needy grind you gave him while his fingers splayed out possessively as they cradle the back of your skull, dragging kisses along the sensitive curve beneath your ear. panting hot along the column of your throat.

“never,” he promised, breath hot against your neck before he bit down—soft, but enough to mark. “i’d never stop for the world, angel”

making it almost impossible not to melt back against him

and somehow that promise came out sounding more sinful than sweet because those long slender fingers of his find the soaked crotch of your thong, pushing the fabric aside so he could finally see that glimmering clit. grinding that thick length of his dick against it with a delicious slow rhythm.

a rhythm that had your heavy head nuzzling into his neck, catching every shaky whimper that spilled from your throat, body growing hot with every slow roll. a rhythm that had his leaking tip soaking through his cotton briefs until they were nearly translucent with how much the two of you wanted eachother.

"god, you're so wet for me" he groaned against your throat, teeth catching the soft skin there before soothing it with a wet kiss.

snaking a hand down to grab your ass, like he needed you closer. the disco ball above casting shimmering lights across his face, highlighting his sharp features and soft lips. “please look at me baby,”

“i need it..”eyes blown wide and unfocused as you rocked against him.

and when your eyes finally met his again they were heavy with something neither of you had seen before. reeling back just enough so the both of you could watch each other work.

slender fingers digging into your fleshy hips as he drug your clit with a pressure that had your thighs trembling. a pressure that had his fat tip clinging to slickly thin fabric. a crumbling pressure that had you falling apart.

"michael—" your voice cracked, breaking on his name like it was a prayer.

until suddenly— thunk, thunk, thunk.

three knocks sound against the wall. not urgent. not concerned. just a loud enough sound to remind you both that rest of the world existed beyond your little corner of 54. the kind of knock that carried unmistakable feeling of a man who’d already given you both far more privacy than he intended.

“now michael,” bill sighed, “i can keep folks from peekin’ in here, but i can only make yall sound so innocent behind these curtains.”

your face burned, and judging by the breathless laugh michael tried hiding against your shoulder. he was too.

“especially with how noisy y’all being behind this here curtain.”

michael bit back another laugh, his cheeks flushed as he pressed a gentle kiss to your shoulder, trying to compose himself.

"s-sorry bill," he called out, his voice embarrassingly shaken.

pulling you closer as an his arms wrapping around to tuck you in a protective embrace. peppering soothing kisses across your face, each one accompanied by a soft chuckle as you tried burying yourself in his skin.

“your alright pretty girl. promise.”

⊱ Michael's voice is his ultimate weapon. In bed, he drops the soft, high-pitched public speaking voice entirely. His natural voice is deep, raspy, and incredibly commanding. He loves whispering directives in your ear, telling you exactly how he wants you to move, praise him, or take him. Hearing him stutter or lose his breath when he's close to the edge is rare, but it's the most rewarding thing you'll ever hear.

⊱ He is a praise king, both giving and receiving. He needs to know he's pleasing you, constantly asking, "Do you like that, beautiful?" or "Tell me what you need." In return, worshiping his body, running your hands through his curls, and telling him how incredible he feels drives him absolutely wild.

⊱ Because his schedule is so unpredictable, when you two finally get uninterrupted time together, he wants to make it count. He has insane stamina (he's a dancer, after all). He loves slow, sensual, hours-long sessions where the goal isn't just a quick release, but complete physical connection.

⊱ He likes to tease. He spent his life perfecting his patience and timing; he applies that to the bedroom. He will bring you right to the brink, then stop, pulling back with a soft, knowing smirk just to watch you beg a little bit.

⊱ Michael is incredibly polite and soft-spoken in his daily life, but in the bedroom, he flips the script. He has a dominant streak that comes from a lifetime of being in charge. He loves commanding you to do things—whether it's telling you to undress for him slowly while he watches from an armchair, or demanding you stay perfectly still while he pleasures you.

⊱ He loves massive, floor-to-ceiling gold-gilded mirrors. He will deliberately position you in front of one, holding you from behind, forcing you to look at how beautiful you look underneath him. He wants you to see exactly what he sees.

⊱ He loves a highly sensory, immersive environment in bed. Think silk blindfolds, feather ticklers, or melting massage wax. He loves taking away one of your senses (like your sight) so you are entirely dependent on his touch and his voice.

⊱ He is honestly incredibly possessive during this era. He loves leaving marks where the public can't see them—inner thighs, hips, and collarbones hidden beneath your clothes. He gets a quiet, smug satisfaction seeing a faint bite mark or hickey on you the next day during a meeting, knowing you belong to him.

⊱ Because of his intense dance training, his stamina, core strength, and flexibility are unmatched. He loves lifting you against doors or walls, holding your entire weight effortlessly while keeping a steady rhythm. He knows exactly how to angle his body to get the maximum amount of pleasure for you.

⊱ Michael loves to push your limits just a little bit. He loves bringing you to multiple orgasms, ignoring your breathless pleas to stop, and keeping you right on the edge of sensory overload until you are completely spent and crying out his name.

⊱ Michael has famously large, expressive eyes, and he uses them to lock you in place. He rarely closes his eyes during sex. He wants to watch every single micro-expression on your face—the way your lips part, the way your eyes roll back, the flush on your chest. If you try to look away because it’s too intense, he will gently but firmly cup your jaw to force you to look right back at him.

⊱ He has a hidden urge for a little bit of rougher, more primal play. He loves the sharp contrast of a heavy, stinging slap against your bare thigh or ass, followed immediately by him kissing the red mark he left. He loves hearing the sharp gasp it pulls out of you.

⊱ Michael has an eye for fashion, design, and fabrics. He absolutely adores high-end, vintage-style lingerie—silk corsets, thigh-high stockings with garter belts, and sheer lace. He will personally shop for you, buying pieces he wants to see on you, only to slowly, deliberately peel them off your body, piece by piece.

⊱ He is the absolute best at aftercare. Once the high energy clears, he immediately shifts into the most attentive, nurturing partner. He loves drawing a warm bath for the two of you, gently washing your back, and tracing the lines of your body with a damp washcloth. Afterward, he'll brush your hair out, scent your skin with lotion, and hold you tight against his chest in bed, humming low in his throat until you both fall asleep.

michael jackson x female reader

━ SUMMARY: when a phone call with his producer cuts into your date night, you decide to take matters into your own hands or mouth

━ CONTENT: 18+, smut, cursing, giving michael a blowjob while he’s on the phone, established relationship, mike’s down bad what’s new, oral m & f receiving he eats it like it’s his last meal, lots of teasing, a tiny bit of jealous michael bc why not, unprotected sex!!! (not a good idea y’all be safe out there), creampie, switch michael supremacy, them fuckin on the living room couch….idk they’re young & in love leave them alone

━ AUTHOR’S NOTE: i implore you to imagine off the wall michael with this one… (post otw but pre thriller) he was pregnant with the lady in my life here. idk let’s just imagine he was an absolute freak in the sheets during this time, mans was topping charts & winning awards nobody could stop him

thank you so so much baby i’m so happy you love my work! i don’t have time to write a fic but imagine this

18+

michael’s fingers dug into your hips, gripping tightly as he pressed his face between your thighs. his tongue worked your swollen clit, swirling around it in a slow circles that made your hips jerk upward.

"shh, baby girl," he murmured against your slick folds, his voice low. "just relax and take it."

he dragged his tongue on your soaked clit again, this time pressing hard and flat, until his mouth was sealed over your entire pussy, sucking hard.

"such a pretty little thing," he purred, voice muffled by your juices. "all this, for me."

his hands gripped your legs tightly as he noticed you trying to sit up. your legs aching, as your release had passed. “n-no mm-” you choked out, michaels hand pressed firming on your lower abdomen keeping you in place.

"stay still for me," his tongue returned to your clit, flicking over the sensitive bud as he watched you squirm under his touch.

your entire body shakes as you squirt on his face, his hand still pressing down on you. he laps all of it up, before pushing down harder, releasing more into his mouth.

your thighs shake around his head, tears in your eyes as you take it all for him. “that's it, mama" he groans, tongue still taking in every drop.

"such a good girl," he whispers, voice sweet and quiet. "and you'll be a good girl every time for me, won't you?"