featuring: mature!michael x black!fem reader
synopsis: after years of coming second to the stage, you reach your breaking point.
content warning: 18+, MDNI—angst, no use of y/n, established relationship, groveling, vitiligo, m!receiving, f!receiving, p in v, verbal sex, breeding kink, creampie
notes: this surprisingly isn’t the filthiest thing in my drafts…
it’d been over two months since you’d last seen your husband.
you’d gotten used to the late nights and long tours. being alone in your home that was too big for the two of you started to feel normal—and you hated it.
it was approaching one a.m., and you were tossing and turning in bed. the scent of the candle you’d blown out hours before was now long gone, and the only light in the room was that of the moonlight peaking through the curtains.
you laid on your back, counting on your hands the amount of times michael had called since he’d left.
him being absent wasn’t unusual, but it was putting a strain so strong on your marriage that the idea of divorce seemed more and more likely.
in the first three years of you and michael’s marriage, you didn’t think there could ever be anything that’d bring you two down from your high.
you were utterly infatuated with each other.
now, approaching year five, that couldn’t be any farther in the past.
you began getting teary eyed thinking about the newlyweds that were so incredibly happy—you were oblivious to reality.
refusing to feel sorry for yourself, you dragged yourself out of your king-sized bed and made your way through the empty halls—catching glimpses at photos of you and michael hung up on the walls.
your silk robe did nothing to embrace you in warmth when you stopped to gaze at your wedding photo. you wore a beautiful, handmade gown that you had every intention of passing down to your daughter one day.
suddenly, your ears started to grow hot. you felt so stupid to think that someone like michael jackson could keep all of his attention on you—could make time for you in his busy schedule.
you had a life, too. you worked in the entertainment industry before you met michael and fell in love. you two ended up deciding that you’d take an indefinite leave from work. not because he in any way forced you, but because you were exhausted. you worked your entire life and just wanted to exhale for once.
you finally took a deep breath and continued your long walk to the kitchen. when you reached it, the cold floor invited you. you flicked on the nearest light and opened the cabinet next to the refrigerator. you reached for a glass to pour a ridiculously expensive bottle of red wine into.
as you stood barefoot in the robe michael had gotten you from europe months prior, you were reminded of the empty home by the echo of your wine glass hitting your marble island.
you’d hoped the alcohol would’ve calmed you down, made you think more rationally. but it did the opposite. it always did.
this wasn’t the first time you’d resorted to alcohol to try to take some of the edge off. it had become some sick and toxic routine.
michael would leave for whatever duration, and whenever he’d return, you’d argue.
argue for hours, days—sometimes weeks, until the cycle repeated itself.
sometimes things would get so heated that regretful words would be exchanged, things would get thrown, and you’d question what made you marry the most famous man on the planet.
then, after all of the yelling and screaming, your pulse would slow, your heartbeat would quiet, and you’d find yourself back between the sheets with michael: apologizing, making promises, and fucking until you forgot what you were upset about in the first place.
this time—this time was different though. before he walked out of the door nine weeks ago, he started a discussion that you held out on having due to the chaos that would ensue between the two of you—he’d asked to expand your family.
you were taken aback by his timing. it had been the height of your fighting. you couldn’t help but wonder if this was his attempt at using a baby as a bandaid to temporarily patch things between you up—to ignore the elephant in the room.
you knew that michael would never consciously use a child in that way, but you also knew that he loved you and that he’d do anything to keep you as his wife.
in that moment though, you looked into his eyes and saw a glimmer of hope. maybe he’d finally see how much you were hurting while he was away, and that he had responsibilities to be home with his wife and growing child—so you agreed. when he got back, you’d start trying to have a baby.
the thought filled you with immense joy. you’d always knew you wanted to give michael the eighteen children he wanted, it was just a matter of when.
and he was excited, too. you knew he was destined for fatherhood. when you two weren’t biting each other’s heads off, he was patient. and kind. and loving.
he was calling frequently to check up on you. asking about doctor’s appointments you’d went to alone, making sure you were healthy and eating, just calling you to say hello in between meetings. you thought things were changing for the better.
but then the calls became less and less. he’d barely called you once a week. you’d spoken to his manager more times than him. you didn’t know what snapped.
there was an unbelievable gap between the man you married and the man he was today.
by the time you’d finished your now three glasses of wine, you washed your two dishes and went back to into your shared bedroom.
you lit four candles around the room and inhaled deeply. you then sat on the ottoman that rested at the foot of the bed, and crossed one of your legs over the other, getting lost in your thoughts.
the more you thought, the angrier you became.
loving michael was difficult—more difficult than your friends and family warned you, but you believed that love could outlive anything negative that could threaten to come between the two of you.
the only reason you were snapped out of your head was because of the click of your bedroom door. it had startled you, but you knew it couldn’t have been an intruder who made it through the gates of neverland—it was your husband.
his posture was tired as his lean frame made its way further into view. the scent of him is what you noticed first. he smelled of cologne as he usually did, but something was off. he didn’t seem nearly as much like himself. and he smelled sweeter.
he didn’t even spare you a glance when he dropped his travel bag and headed into the bathroom and shut the door. the audacity he had to not even have the gall to look at you.
you were dumbfounded to say the least.
you thought to get up and bang on the door. yell what his problem was. but in that moment, you didn’t have the energy to. instead, you patiently waited in that same spot. you waited for an explanation, an apology.
you soon heard the shower click on, and you just sat there.
your body tensed as soon as you looked at the clock on his side of the bed and realized that over thirty minutes had passed—just like that.
you couldn’t control your body as it hauled ass to the bathroom door, moving to open it, only to realize it was locked. instinctively, you knocked twice. softly first.
you knocked harder, quicker.
after what felt like hours, he’d finally emerged—towel around his slim waist, water droplets still visible on his skin. his eyes locked with yours as you stared him down, searching his eyes for some sort of emotion, but failed to find any that was recognizable.
the beautiful eyes that used to look at you like you were his entire world, now looked at you with some form of contempt. before you could even register what was happening, your hands found his chest and pushed him. not enough to hurt, but enough to get a reaction from him. he barely flinched.
“what the fuck, michael?!” you asked, the words ripping from your throat with so much emotion that your voice didn’t sound like your own. “why the hell haven’t i heard from you in weeks?”
he ignored you, simply brushing passed you politely. you were seething at this point. something that could’ve been solved with a conversation was being blown out of proportion—yes by you, but also by his stubborn and childish ways.
“and don’t think you could run into the shower and wash that bitches perfume off of you before i could smell it,” you were talking to his back as he put on a white tee shirt, “you fucking disgust me.”
he quickly turned to face you, “you ain’t right, woman.” your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “can i have two seconds of peace? every time i come into this room it’s like ’m being interrogated with questions.”
you felt the rage build inside of you. “i’m your wife, michael! it’s well in my right to question you!” you scoffed, inching closer toward him. “you stepped out on our marriage? you haven’t fucked me in months, but you can go to some bitch and get your dick wet?” you asked, completely serious, looking him in his face.
he stayed silent, which only answered your question.
you couldn’t even register how you felt, only one thing was racing through your mind. “i want a divorce.” your voice broke. “i’m done.”
michael stood there, letting your declaration settle into him. he didn’t react. you threatened separation countless times before and you’d never acted on it, so he figured divorce wasn’t any different.
the thing about michael was, it took a lot to drive him to the point of arguing back with you. you were truthful when you said he was patient, but his patience sometimes felt like neglect.
“you’re not going anywhere.” he stated flatly, eyes darkening. “you always say you’ll leave and you never do. i’m exhausted.”
“i don’t give a shit if you were flying a plane, michael!” you yell, getting fed up. “don’t leave out the fact that it’s you who begs me to stay!—oh, and not to mention the last time, you told me you wanted to start having children with me. you want to bring innocent babies into this toxic fucking household, our house is not a home when no one is there, michael!” you spat, “you don’t care about anyone except yourself.”
the words that came out of your mouth were harsh, but that didn’t make them any less true.
your chest was heaving and your blood felt like it was about to burst out of your veins.
michael let out a low, bitter laugh. “woman, don’t y’dare let it fly out ‘a your mouth that i only care about myself. what d’ya call bein' there f'you and carressin' you when you're drunk 'n out of it?" his head cocked to the side, "reassurin' you whenever you're being impossible to deal with? i don’t do that for just anyone. you’re special t’me, doll.” his words softened, and his tone almost—almost felt genuine. “but you’re pushin’ it.”
there it was. finally some honesty from him.
he’d walked away toward the bathroom door, and leaned against the wall beside it with his arms crossed. he radiated calmness while you were a trembling mess. “and to accuse me of stepping out on our marriage is a low that i didn’t think you’d stoop to. i was at my mother’s house, curled up on the sofa watchin’ charlie chaplin.”
again, you almost felt bad until he added, “how do i know you’re not projectin’? havin’ some random man in my bed where we make love? touchin’ you where i make you feel good? hm?”
the accusation made your face pale. “how could you say something like that to me?” you tried your hardest not to show him how hurt you were. “you’re the only person i’ve slept with in over eight years and you’re accusin’ me of being disloyal to you? honey, if i were sleepin’ around, trust me, i would’ve left you two years ago. for good.” you said, hoping to get some kind of reaction from him.
“then what is it?” he straightened. “why does your mind always shoot to the worst possible case scenario?”
“because, michael, you never give me a reason to think otherwise. you’re so reserved. and comin’ home tonight after not seein' me for months, smellin' like you were with another woman doesn’t ease my mind!”
he finally snapped. “i’m not fuckin’ around! and the idea even running through your head really makes me wonder why i try in the first place.”
“try?” you scoffed, truly baffled by his statement, “please point out in any part of this where it is that you’re tryin’.”
he didn’t say a word, and the weight of everything was now crushing you. tears swelled in your eyes as you thought about where you went wrong. you were choking on your own bitterness and was silently screaming for him to soothe you.
you didn’t see an ounce of love in his eyes anymore, only some form of obligation.
“how can you go from practically begging me to have a hand in bringing a life into this world—to being so fucking cold to me? i don’t understand you, michael.” you sighed in defeat. “you’re not the man i fell in love with. the man who swept me off of my feet and promised me the world.” your voice betrayed you by cracking, “you’re a liar.” everything you’d been holding in for the past month began to slip. you told him how unimportant you felt to him, and how he didn’t do his part of being a husband. you sniffed, “do you see the life we’ve created for ourselves? we’re strangers. i don’t know you anymore.”
you felt like throwing something to take the pain off of you, to redirect the conversation rather than force yourself to confront whatever this was. but you didn’t. it wouldn’t help anything.
“michael, i am so damn tired of being hurt by you. tired of pretendin' like shit will be fixed with sex and gifts. none of that fixes anything. we still have problems.” now, he was closer to you, trying to touch you but you recoiled at the action. “i don’t think this is fixable.” you settled. “i don’t want anything from you anymore. i don’t want your love or your affection,” you sniffed, “i just want peace.”
“p-please…” his soft voice got small, “i-i can’t do this without you.”
it took every ounce of your being to walk past him and make your way to the closet he’d recently rebuilt on a whim for you. you began taking your clothes off of their hangars, not bothering to see what you were throwing on the floor.
your heart pounded against your chest and your eyesight got blurry, but you didn’t stop.
in that instant, the idea of not coming home to your warmth and laughter made michael sick. he genuinely couldn’t fathom a life where you weren’t in it alongside him.
he knew he’d messed up, but it had never gotten to the point where you were actively packing your things, ready to stand your ground of divorce. he couldn’t have that. not a second of it.
so, he turned and strode to where you were, now on the other side of the closet, grabbing what you’d take with you. you heard his heavy footsteps, but didn’t bother to face him. “i’ll be gone within the hour.”
he desperately made is way through the piles of clothing, taking his place behind you. his large hands grabbed your waist, and he breathed into you. “baby…” he started, “please don’t leave me.” the words her vulnerable. you knew he meant them, but you felt it was too late. “let’s talk about this. p-please…”
you stiffened yet again, still choosing not to face him. “i gave you a chance to talk. instead you basically spat in my face. i’m leaving.”
he moved quickly, his hands now pulling you to twist toward him. if you were serious about leaving him, he wanted you to do it to his face. when you were facing him, you averted his eyes. “tell me what t’do,” he pleaded, “i’ll do anythin’.”
your shoulders hung low, “you don’t care. you don’t love me. you just loved my company.”
he peered down at you, wondering how you two ended up in this state. “of course i love you. how could you say that? i’ve loved you since the second i laid eyes on you. i need you.” he spoke. “i just—i—”
you interrupted him to catch his gaze. “you what, michael?” he just stood there frozen, not knowing how to fix this—not knowing what to say to get you to just hear him. “that’s what i thought. i’m leaving.” you shook your head, trying to get free of his hold, but he was too strong. “let me go.”
reality hit him like a semi-truck. all the years you shared flashed before his eyes. when he blinked, you noticed his lip began to quiver. tears formed in his eyes as he continued to plead. “baby, i-i need you…”
you shook your head. “no, michael. you need to be needed.”
“don’t leave me, sweets,” he started, his hands now pulling you into an embrace, “i’ll do anything—therapy, counseling—anythin’ t’get you to rethink this. don’t leave me,” his voice cracked, “don’t give up on us.”
you closed your eyes as you welcomed him. you missed just holding him close and feeling at home with him. “i’ll be better,” he sobbed into your thick hair, “i love you.”
“this is a fucked up version of love,” you whispered back into him, “i can’t do this.” you pulled away from him. “it’s too much—”
“it spread.” he cut you off, and you immediately knew what he meant.
“what?” your voice had no trace of anger.
“the vitiligo… it spread.”
by this point in his life, michael had only a few spots of melanin left on his skin—not anything visible to the public, but visible to you and him.
for the eight years you’d known him, his biggest insecurity had been his vitiligo. it took well into a year of your relationship to even get him to open up about it. the media created their own insane narratives which only made it worse for him to deal with.
his brown eyes mellowed, “i don’t feel like myself. there is no speck of who i was left on my skin.” he was defeated, you could hear it in his voice.
“oh, michael,” you moved your hand to lift his chin, “i’m sorry.”
“thas’ the reason i haven’t had sex with ya’, and thas’ the reason i been been actin’ this way. i couldn’t imagine you would still want me. i don’t want t’be rejected...”
the way he spoke about himself made you realize how a person can act out of emotion. he thought you’d no longer be sexually attracted to him. but boy, was he wrong.
“of course i still want you,” you moved your hands to his hair, “i want you all the time,” you placed a gentle, lingering kiss to his earlobe, “in fact…” your voice became lower, more rough, “i want you right now.” your right hand traced down his neck, then to his chest, then his stomach. all the way down until you reached the towel he still had around his waist.
“b-baby,” he began, “you don’t have to.”
your hand traced his growing bulge, “i want to.” you slipped your fingertips inside, being careful not to let the towel fall. “you,” you bent down to kiss his abdomen, “are so beautiful.”
he hitched at the contact of your lips, “’m sorry for causing all of this. so so sorry.” he sharply inhaled when you purposely dropped the towel. it felt to his feet and his dick sprung free.
you knew by this point, you weren’t going anywhere. he reacted because of something he was deeply insecure about. he held on to the fact that down there, there were still traces of the man he used to be. he then felt like that was no longer.
you grabbed his long and thick length with both of your hands—it was so big—and brought your lips to it. you trailed kisses from the base to the tip, then the tip to the base.
you saw what he meant. it had spread. before, there were only lighter patches that stopped at his pelvis. now, there were traces of vitiligo on the one place he’d told you he was glad still looked the same.
all you wanted to do in that moment, was make him feel loved and accepted. you knew that based on your argument that night, that he was letting it take a toll on him. you just felt the need to make sure he knew that you’d still love him the same.
with slow and deliberate movements, you flicked your tongue out to graze the tip of his dick, tasting the precum that rested on it. michael reacted to your every move. you craved him and you knew he wanted you just as bad—if not more.
"you taste s'good, mikey," you murmured, looking up to catch his intoxicating gaze, "so good." your lips formed a mischievous smile as his jaw tightened in response.
his fingers found his way into your coiled hair and gripped like his life depended on it. he was on the brink of losing control, and you relished in it.
your tongue began tracing each vein on his length, occasionally meeting his tip again to lick, suck, and kiss. michael's body trembled in response, his muscles tightening as you taunted him with every slow, delicate movement.
"you likin' this, baby?" you whispered, voice low and hungry, "did you miss this?"
"y-yes, mama," he inhaled sharply, "yes."
you then ran your tongue along the underside of his dick, moving it to his balls, and trailing it all the way back to his tip again. while you mellowed out there, his hand that was in your hair gripped a little tighter, and pushed your head down to force you to take him deeper. your hands shot to his thighs to hold yourself steady, but he didn't let up.
michael let out a low and heavy breath, chest heaving as you began to choke on his large dick. as his hands guided your mouth, you welcomed the feeling of his length slamming the back of your throat. a mix of your own saliva and his precum dripped down your chin, rolling down onto your breasts. you knew the sight excited him.
you came up for air to swirl your tongue along his tip, a string of spit following you.
after a few breaths, you took his length back into your mouth, and one of your hands found its way into your panties, desperate to stimulate your clit. you were wetter than you'd been since you could remember. your body was responding to every thrust and every jolt. your eyes were watering, but you couldn't get enough.
"baby," michael breathed in between strokes, "i love this warm mouth," he gently yanked you off of his length to bend down to kiss you. it was rough and wet. your hand moved from your wet folds to grab his neck. your tongues swirled against each others, yearning for more. you two fit together so well. the kiss didn't last long, though. he quickly filled your mouth with his length again. his eyes flickered down, watching you swallow him whole, "you take me so well, my perfect girl..."
you loved his praise. there was something raw and primal about the way he spoke to you.
your hand found your clit again, but this time—you were needier. your body was shivering at every stroke and every sound he was giving to you. your fingers were moving in circles over your clit as you moaned around his dick.
michael was feeding you low and guttural groans, and you were relishing in it.
the wet sounds of your mouth fueled him as he gave you short, rough strokes. with each, your hunger intensified for him, for more. your fingers pressed harder against your sensitive clit, begging for a release.
"m'girl ready to cum?" michael grunted out, "i can't wait t’feel you tremble all over my tongue." his thrusts grew more eager, and you knew his release was nearing, too.
his balls slapped against your chin, over and over, dripping with your spit. his moans grew louder and deeper, signaling he was about to reach his peak. "can i cum in this mouth, sweets?" he groaned, "can i cum down this throat?" you managed a weak 'mhm,' as you relentlessly continued your attack on your clit. "thas’ right," michael said, "thas’ my good girl."
the heat in your stomach grew stronger as you struggled to keep up with his movements. the sounds of the two of you echoed through your bedroom as you started to whimper. you moaned deeply around him as your orgasm swept over you, swallowing you whole. your thighs shook and your folds were covered in your release.
the vibrations were what sent michael over the edge. his thrusts slowed and his words became incoherent. his warm seed spilled into your mouth and you swallowed all that you could, while the rest seeped out onto your chin.
michael watched your every move, never taking his eyes off of you. he slowly pulled out of your mouth, his dick somehow harder than before, and helped you stand on your feet. your lips were swollen and wet, while your chest rose and fell.
your glistening fingers moved from your folds, and you brought them to his parted lips. he happily took them in, tasting your ecstasy. "you are..." he cupped your chin, "gorgeous." he didn't give you a moment to respond as his lips crashed against yours. the kiss was deep and rough, his mouth ravishing yours like he needed you.
the remnants of both your releases were still present. his hand found your right nipple quickly. he twisted and grabbed at it until you moaned into his mouth and devoured you completely. with every movement of his tongue, he reminded you that you were his, and that you weren't going anywhere.
when the kiss finally broke, the two of you were a panting mess, but he wasn't through with you. "go get on the bed, sweets," michael's voice was low and sultry, "lay on your back," he walked toward you, causing you to back up against the bed, "and spread those pretty legs f'me."
you didn't think twice about it. you did exactly what he said, exactly the way he said it.
you two made your way out of the closet and back into the dimly lit bedroom. you didn’t have time to think about if this was toxic or not. you didn’t care.
you'd dropped your robe and was left in nothing but your panties. you laid against the plush bed and it engulfed you. your eyes were locked on michael—who was in nothing but his white tee shirt that hugged him perfectly. his eyes were also on you, taking mental pictures of how good you looked. he loved your body and made sure you never forgot it. "s'beautiful..."
his lean frame walked toward you, his knuckles meeting the bed first, "you don't know how much i enjoy seeing you like this," he whispered, "wet and waiting f'me..." his large hands explored your thighs first, fingertips grazing you slowly. you gasped softly, the anticipation of his mouth eating away at you was enough to make you cum right then and there.
his movements weren't rushed. his lips pressed against your inner thighs, leaving trails of warmth in their wake. he pulled your panties off of you and threw them to... wherever. he then kissed his way upward, purposely avoiding your wetness. his tongue teased you as he licked and kissed, making your back arch off of the bed.
"michael..." you moaned softly, not entirely sure of what you were pleading for.
his mouth finally found your folds, then your clit. the warmth of his tongue sent pulses through you. the intensity had you hitching at every movement.
it didn't help that it had been so long since you had been intimate. you craved this feeling.
his tongue grazed over your swollen clit with precision, tasting your arousal as it coated his sweet lips and tongue. he adjusted one of your legs to open you completely to him. he wanted no spot gone without attention. "y’taste like heaven, mama," he managed to murmur. every lick of his tongue was deliberate. he knew just how to get you on the brink of another release. “such a pretty pussy.”
your hands moved to your sides, then the comforter. your knuckles grew white as you gripped with all of your might. he was sucking your clit with such devotion that you didn't know if he was seeking more than just your orgasm.
with that, he began to ease both his middle and ring finger inside of you. the sudden intrusion made you shiver. "baby... i can't take it..."
"yes y'can, sweets," he looked up at you, eyes dark and hungry. with his free hand, he reached up to grab your breast. he kneaded and rolled your nipple between his index and thumb, coaxing loud moans from you.
you were whimpering as he curled his fingers inside of you, feeling that sensitive, spongy spot. his mouth attached itself to your clit again, and you weren't sure of how much more you could take before you came.
you bit your bottom lip hard enough to draw blood to supress your moans, but michael wasn't having any of it. "unt unt, sweets," he said from below you, "let me hear ya'," he sucked at your clit some more, meaning what he said about wanting to hear you. "i love this pussy, girl..."
"mmfph," was all you could manage to form from your mouth, aside from his name escaping from your lips. he pressed his fingers harder against your g-spot, mouth forming into a sly smile as he continued finger-fucking you into oblivion.
michael groaned against you, fully drunk off of the sounds that were coming out of you. he took much pleasure in your pleasure—despite your bickering and fighting. he loved you, and pleasuring you like this was one of his favorite ways to show it.
you began to gasp, "michael," your voice shook as the intensity became too much to handle. your body was quivering in gratification.
with one last lick to your clit, and one more curl of his fingers, the tension finally broke inside of you. your back arched and your orgasm crashed over you violently. the sounds that erupted from your throat were that of a woman who was deprived of love from her man.
though, michael didn't stop. his fingers kept their rhythm inside of you, "oh, God..." you breathed.
"you know better than to use Jehova's name in vain," he said, "y'wanna cum again, baby?" his voice laced with intense amounts of need.
"yes," you breathed, the word barely coming out coherently under his touch. "you make me feel so good..."
"i know," he whispered, "i know, sweet girl." he started to ease the pace of his fingers, "i need one more from you. just one more before i give you what you need, baby."
"y'can give me one more... right, mama?" his head ducked back into your pussy, licking and sucking yet again. his persistence alone sent you over the edge.
"i'm close," you drew out, "i'm cumming."
"thaaas' it, girl. give it t'me."
your legs began to shake uncontrollably and a loud moan spilled from your lips. the force of your orgasm left you breathless. your toes were curling as pleasure completely washed over you.
michael finally withdrew his fingers and you watched him. your breathing was heavy and ragged. you never left his gaze as he brought his fingers to his wet mouth. he savored the taste of your sweet release.
his dick was pressing hard against the mattress, and he raised up a bit to position himself at your awaiting entrance. his size compared to you was intimidating, some foreskin still covered the tip. "you're so desperate for this dick, ain't that right?"
you nodded profusely. you were desperate for it.. he grabbed your hips to pull you closer to him, then grabbed the nearest pillow to stuff under you.
your body was positioned perfectly for him. the head of his dick pressed against your wet hole, teasing and torturing you. he leaned in close to your ear as he whispered, "this is mine. only and always mine." his voice was menacing, dripping with truth. and you knew it.
he backed into his previous position and spat into his palm, then brought his hand to roughly stroke his length. he didn't know whether to fuck you until you forgot why you wanted a divorce, or until you felt how much he loved you.
he compromised with both.
he then swiftly removed his shirt in one motion to make sure nothing was in the way of how close he was going to be to you.
then, without warning, he shoved himself inside of you, forcing a loud gasp to leave the both of you. there was nothing sweet about the way he began to fuck you. he liked feeling you crumble beneath him.
inch by inch, he pushed deeper, filling you to the brim. "so fuckin' tight, baby," he said, voice rough. he then gave you no time no adjust to his size before he started giving it to you. “i missed this pussy.”
"m-michael, please..." you begged, but he didn't show an ounce of care.
"take it, baby... i know y'can," his face contorted as he plowed into you, each thrust making your body jolt forward. your moans and his whimpers filled the room. your legs shook as he hit deeper and harder, the pressure building up inside of you until you had to remind yourself to breathe.
the pressure was intoxicating, and you both knew it. you were well aware that this kind of relationship wasn't healthy—but it felt damn good. it was wrong, but with every movement of his hips, you craved him even more.
you loved him, and michael loved you too—more than he knew how to express. somewhere between giving you sweet love and giving you heart racing excitement, he forgot the happy medium between the two.
"you're so deep, mikey," you said, feeling him practically poking your lungs.
he blushed, "yeah?" his big hand rested on your lower belly, "y'feel me there?"
you nodded, completely undone.
he bit down on his lip as he looked down at you. he was gorgeous. forehead was dripping in sweat, but he still somehow looked like the prettiest man on the planet.
he drove so deeply into you that you tried pressing your body far into the mattress, "where y'goin', girl? don't run from this dick." you moaned at his vulgar words, sounding broken. you tried to plead with him, but no words dared form. “goddamn, baby.”
"why..." you whimpered, and your hand found his arm. you weren’t completely sure of what you were asking him, but in some way, you think he knew.
he leaned into you, touching your nose to his, "because i love you," he whispered, "i love you s'much that i can't let y'go..."
his strokes slowed, but he was still relentless. your vision began to blur and flutter open and shut as he dug into you. his mouth found your nipple and he sucked. hard.
"tell me y'love me, sweets," michael urged, his voice a mix of plead and command, he desperately needed to hear you say you loved him.
you breathed in deep, "i love you, michael, oh, i love you," you moaned loudly, your voice filled with passion, "i'm gonna cum again," you gasped.
"cum f'me, baby—claim this dick," he rasped, "you're so perfect."
your core tightened and your eyes fluttered shut. your third orgasm of the night made you completely submissive to him.
something flipped within you. you needed to let him know you were still somewhat in control.
you managed to flip him on his back and get on top. you could tell you surprised him by the raise of his eyebrows. you straddled him, then lined his tip up again with your soaking entrance.
you eased down and his eyes didn't dare leave yours. "you feel so good inside of me. this dick was made to fuck me." you threw your head back in pleasure.
you rocked back and forth on his length, hand moving to his throat. your eyes narrowed and his hand matched yours, and found your neck. you were fighting for control, and you weren't ready to give in.
your movements got rougher, and he could see it. "give me all y’anger, baby..." michael groaned. "i don't deserve this pussy, mama." his eyes fluttered in and out of consciousness. the feeling of you warmly and tightly wrapped around him was making him dizzy.
your eyes softened, "yes you do, michael," your hips stuttered, "you deserve it all..."
that was enough to push him over the edge.
"can i put a baby in you? get you all big an' round with our baby?" he begged, "can i fill y'up, angel face?" he whimpered.
there was nothing you could say but yes. you knew your agreement meant repercussions, but in that moment, it didn't matter. you just wanted him to finish in you.
“gonna stuff you full of my cum…”
and with that, a shuddering exhale escaped his lips as he let himself go. his warmth filled you completely as you sat fully on his dick. the sensation of him spilling inside of you, hot and thick, set off something inside of you that made you cum right along with him.
you cried out each other's names as breathless plea's.
michael pulled out of you and managed to push any remnants of cum that escaped, back inside of you. he couldn't let any go to waste. he wanted your family.
you rolled over on the other side of him, and listened to yours and his breathing. you lazily wrapped one arm around his torso, and gazed up at him. you waited for him to say something—anything.
he traced his fingertips in circles over your stomach, and his expression was hard to read.
"'m so sorry for all of the pain i've caused you," his voice was low, "i don't want to keep you here if you want t'go..." with a broken sigh, you force him to look at you. you didn't want to leave, but something had to change. "say somethin', baby..." he pleaded, "please..."
"i don't wanna go, michael," you said, "but i can't stay in an environment where 'm bein' hurt all the time."
"i know angel, an' i'm sorry—"
"then fix it, michael!" you whisper-yelled, voice hoarse, "i can't keep repeatin' this same toxic cycle. we're a mess.”
"i love you, baby." he whispered, tear falling from his cheek. "i want ya' and i need ya'. i'll do anythin' to fix this. i want our family." his hands roamed your hair, and somehow, you believed him. through all of your fighting, there was still love buried somewhere. “i want t’make this house a home.”
you nodded weakly, then he kissed you. slow and tender. it was like he tried to fix all that he broke within you. for the first time in a long time, his kiss didn't feel like desperation or need, but love.
he brought you into an embrace, and planted a kiss to your forehead. "i'll fix this, sweets. i know it." and you both drifted to sleep in each other's arms—raw and vulnerable.
through all of the pain, you knew your relationship still stood a chance. if anyone could get through anything like this, it was the two of you.
𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ- @pytforever @sonnetsforher @mjslovrr comment to be added/removed, asks/requests open! <3
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