nsfw manager Michael finally making a move?? I love loveeeee ur hcs omg please 😭😭🩷
oh ok cuz i was waiting. by the way, when i use this flower ᭄᭡ ͏, it means it’s spicy because it looks like…mm.
tw: smutty, fingering, dry humping, semi-public sex?, michael is a yearner, older man/younger woman, age gap
manager!michael jackson x popstar!reader
𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝
᭄᭡ manager!michael dresses well for your album party. he adored your little squeals of delight when he agreed to match with you for the album release. you hugged him soundly, and he couldn’t help but feel a little sleazy when he enjoys the feel of your breasts push up against him. he molds his hands, big and flat, against your shoulder blades. you do not catch the devious smile that spreads across his lips.
᭄᭡ manager!michael loves the way your eyes rake across his body, enjoying the corset that was tightening his waist. his eyes hook onto the way your manicured fingers trace the buttons and clasps near his midsection. he rubs your arm when he asks you, “you like it?”
he’s near ecstatic when you answer, “oh michael, you look hot…” your eyes widen at the word ‘hot’.
“easy now,” is all he can think to say with raised eyebrows.
᭄᭡ manager!michael takes numerous pictures with you, but allows you space to meet and greet your other celebrity friends, some old acquaintances, others mostly new. he took the opportunity to lean into your ear to whisper how important it was to network, even at a party. he doesn’t miss the way your skin raises in a shiver, as you nod his way, ever so obedient.
᭄᭡ manager!michael licks his lips when you give a moving speech to those gathered. he claps the loudest when applause sounds, and murmurs words of praise to those willing to listen to him. because he is who he is, everyone leans in to hear what he has to say. sometimes he reminds himself to reel it in. word spreads fast about rumors, everyone angling to be the mysterious “source” in the tabloids.
᭄᭡ manager!michael blows you gentle kisses when you profusely thank him for his assistance and direction in the boost of your career. he feels a delightful shiver run down his neck when you catch the kisses in your fist and bring them to your lips. he laughs and claps, though he desperately wonders what your lips would feel like on his skin.
᭄᭡ manager!michael joins you on the dancefloor for a few songs after you pull him from the couch. you initially crooked your pretty finger at him, and he shook his head shyly. your eyes lowered, you sauntered over to his position, where he was surrounded by a few associates, and bent over him.
᭄᭡ manager!michael's eyes widened behind his shades as his surroundings whistled and laughed, egging you on. you were definitely a little tipsy, he could tell by your blown-out pupils and glazed eyes. the alcohol on your breath did not help either when you brought your face close to his.
“dance with me, mm?” your hands gripped his tie, giving it a playful tug that jerked him forward.
covering one hand over his mouth, he stood, following you like a puppy on a leash to the dancefloor. he squeezed the other hand to your waist, a warning. “careful, fox.”
you laughed. god, he loved your laugh. he wanted to hear those sweet peals of laughter as he buried his face in your neck, his hands between your legs. you were irresistible.
᭄᭡ manager!michael allows himself to get lost in the music, after waitresses served several plates of shots on the dancefloor. he feels his head swimming as he takes in your appearance, no longer the polished look from the beginning of the night.
your hair askew, light sheen of sweat coating your skin, eye makeup smudged a little, and your expression a little tuckered out. his mind goes awry, he’s never seen you so out of sorts, and he feels bad about all the naughty thoughts rising in his head.
᭄᭡ manager!michael is surprised to see you rake your hands down his body, squatting down to his shoes. he helps you get up with an embarrassed laugh, and you throw yourself into his arms. he subtly moves his hips back from you, so you won’t feel how hard he’s getting. good timing, with various flashes of cameras going off to catch the king of pop and his newest protoge in a sweaty embrace.
᭄᭡ manager!michael narrows his eyes at your co-star, the one who collaborated with you on the lead single of the album, who takes every opportunity to kiss and hug you. yes, he’s younger and more attractive, arguably more masculine shaped than michael, and lord knows this idiot is more like your type than he is.
there is an unusual level of hubris that wraps his heart when he compares the guy to him, the king, the leader of what that guy is today.
᭄᭡ manager!michael is surprised at how touchy you get when you’re drunk, and he doesn’t know how to feel about it. he’s delighted to have your hands all over him, but at the same time, he wonders if this is all it will ever get to, and only when you’re under the influence.
he pats away your pawing at his shirt when you talk. he spots your sad pout and the heat in your cheeks as embarrassment. his head is swimming with confusion, and he can’t tell if you’re coming onto him or just dizzy with alcohol and adrenaline.
᭄᭡ manager!michael wraps up the party, bidding guests a wave goodbye from the side, allowing your friends and assistants to do most of the work. he has not seen you since the cake cutting and more toasts. when it was reported to him that you had not left yet, he walked around the perimeter, just to say goodnight to you.
᭄᭡ manager!michael spots your co-star out of the corner of his eye, sauntering up to him, and he bites back a sigh, instead offering a hand and a tight smile. when the young co-star mentions how lucky michael was to work with such a hot chick like you, all he can do is swallow and nod wordlessly.
the young man slaps him heartily on the back, brings him close, and whispers, “she’s dying to fuck you, man. all the chicks do.” he dips out the back door right after, leaving michael with his hand extended, frozen.
᭄᭡ manager!michael opts to use the restroom before he leaves, asking your assistant to relay his goodnights to you and to get you home safe. he raps his knuckles on the door, once, twice, calls out, and turns the knob when he hears no answer. he’s shocked to find you there, in the giant bathroom, propped up against the sink mirror, the bright vanity lights illuminating your figure. you look divine, and his breath catches a bit. he forgets why he’s there, and then he jerks a little, apologizing profusely. you crook your finger in his direction, slowly, and he stops.
᭄᭡ manager!michael reluctantly enters the bathroom after ducking his head behind him to make sure no one was watching. you turn toward him with a loll of your head, smiling when you see him.
“i thought you left,” you stated with a slight lisp. he huffed out a laugh, some of the tension purging from his shoulders. he locked the door behind him and leaned against it.
“was about to,” he said softly, crossing his arms over his chest. that will stop him from doing anything rash.
your eyes ogled over his form, and he shifted under your gaze. though he was the senior, he felt scrutinized by your sharp eyes, and he was tempted to do whatever you wanted, if only you had the guts to ask.
you cocked your head to the side, hair falling with you. “aaaaand?” you crooned.
michael dipped his head down to slip his shades off his nose, folding them with a soft snap of his wrist. “i needed to use the bathroom before i left.”
you blinked at him. “so why don’t you?”
he looked around and waved the glasses in a half-arc. “this is the men’s bathroom.”
your eyes widened with mischief, and you buried your face in your palms, stifling your giggles. you looked back at him, sharing the same smirk he had. “you’re kidding.”
he shook his head, the black mane flowing around him. “no, fox.”
you threw your head back and gave out a guttural groan. michael’s face dropped as he felt something stir within him at the sight. “don’t call me that.”
now, he blinked at you. “what should i call you then?” he asks cautiously.
he has to remind himself that you were drunk. he as well, but he tolerated it a little better than you. and he was more aware. and he was your senior. and you were half his age. and he was your manager. and you looked so damn good, he kind of didn't care about anything else.
head still thrown back, you rubbed a hand across your chest, self-soothing or seducing him. he watched you with careful eyes, hooked onto every movement. “oh, michael, you dont know what you do to me.”
“easy, fox.” his voice was so quiet, he wasn’t sure your hazy mind even heard him. “you don't know what you're saying.”
michael didn’t register how fast you jumped off the sink. your aura suddenly changed, slow and seductive….and needy. he saw it in your eyes, the glaze of lust deep within your soul. more than lust, he realized, was admiration and desire. he wondered how he hadn’t noticed it before; the entire year and a half had been all about rebranding you, and he sought to view you in a strictly professional light. lord knows how friendly and trusting he was, and you shared the same passions about people as he.
your hands came up to grab at his collar for the second time that night, your face suddenly close to his. your perfume, strong as ever, hit his nose faster than any intoxicant, and he swayed in your grasp. your lashes fluttered above your cheeks as you gazed through them, lips close to his. he opened his mouth to say something, anything, but found himself mute.
“michael,” your lips found his ear, hidden behind a mass of glossy hair. your hand slithered up his neck to brush the hair back, bringing your lips closer.
“michael, please, i need you to touch me.” once he felt your teeth gnaw a little on his lobe, his thin resolve snapped like a thread.
michael couldn’t stop himself from grabbing the back of your head, with a fist of your hair in his fingers, and delighting in your sweet gasp. he looked down at you through stern eyes, his brown eyes big and blazing with desire. yours mirrored him in every way, and he could tell you got excited at his rough movement.
“you need me?” he whispered against your lips, and he felt them quiver a little. “oh girl, you don’t even know what you do to me.”
he slips another hand around your waist, down your back to bring your ass up and close to him. his other hand, still holding you by your hair, though loosened now, keeps your face directed to him, where he can watch your expression shift as you press against him. he wants to chew on your pretty lips when you let out a low exhale at the pressure of his hips against yours.
“you feel that, fox?” he practically spits the nickname at you. all the tension he felt, all the possessive traits he had over your co-star, are spilling from his soul, and he can’t stop it. “you feel how hard you make me?”
“uh-huh,” you respond dumbly, but your eyes are wide with excitement.
“you think you need me to touch you?” he starts to walk both of you backwards, catching your stumble and pushing you back onto the vanity. you clamber onto the vanity sink with little grace, but michael doesn’t care. “what do you think i felt from the day i met you? was i so demanding and bratty? hm?”
he releases your head to grab your cheeks, squishing until your lips pucker for him. he lifts his head, eyelids low so he can look down at you. “answer me, fox.”
“no,” you whine. he loves that sound.
“no,” he agrees. his other hand rubs your thigh slowly, calloused fingers trailing up and under the hem of your dress. “so what's the issue?”
you squeeze your eyes shut, and his hold on your face loosens a little, his resolve slipping. your hands come up to grab his wrists, one holding your face and the other your thigh. you push his hand further up your thigh, while your face turns to the side. you caught his thumb in your mouth, placing a gentle kiss.
“michael, touch me.” your voice is raspy now, and his cock jumps at the sound. “just for tonight. i'll behave.”
he doesn’t want to think about what that means. he overthought every relationship he ever had with women, and this was an opportunity he was not willing to let go. murky water to cross, but he’s been through muddier waters.
“what do you want, sweet girl?” his voice is now low, and he takes the opportunity to thumb at your lower lip, watching your teeth disappear and reappear. “talk to me.”
michael crawls his hand higher up your thigh and revels in the way you spread your legs for him. he slots himself closer to you and your hips, like a magnet, sliding forward, keening close to the edge of the sink. his fingers, by default, hit your lower belly. michael trails the back of his knuckles against your skin, pinching the hem of your panties in between two knuckles.
he raises an eyebrow at you, smiling to himself. “lace?”
you pop open your mouth to suck his thumb entirely. he groans and presses his two forefingers against the cloth, sliding in a downward motion. he whistles at the dampness, not missing the way your mouth releases his thumb to let out a soft moan. he rubs his fingers in deeper, molding the thin material against your lower lips and folds, pinching and squeezing for fun. your hips jerked once, and he pushes back against you.
“you like that, fox?” his nose is close to yours now, the pointed tip bumping your cheek. he’s watching your eyes as closely as he can. he feels your breath on his lips, fast and rising.
your arms slink over his shoulders like a necklace, and he thinks to himself how this is the only accessory he would wear for the rest of his life. michael feels himself being tugged closer by both your arms and calves, your head looking down where his body was touching you.
“yeah, yeah,” you ramble a little, eyes fixated on his fingers in between your legs. “ungh! please–”
he places a few placating kisses on the side of your cheek, peppering your face as he shushes you. “i know, sweet girl, i know. you need this, right?”
you nod fast, so fast he sees your eyes jump around in your head. he stifles a laugh. you’re so horny it’s insane. he still cannot believe you are spreading yourself for someone like him; he never took you for someone who liked older men. maybe it was the power, the name ‘michael jackson’, his authoritative presence, the money?
ah, who cares, when your gorgeous face is scrunched in sweet pleasure, by none other than his fingers?
“tell me something, love,” he whispers low against your cheek as his fingers tug aside your panties, dipping into your wet heat. “you listening?”
“yeahhhh,” you whine back.
his hand gives another rough tug to the panties, making you squeak in surprise as a sound riiiiip tears through the room. he watches your eyes carefully. “you like that boy?”
his hands finally tear the lace from your body, jerking your lower half towards him. your mouth gapes open at the sight, your eyes wide with shock. he smoothly stuffs the tatters into his suit pocket, returning his damp hand to your folds, tickling you there.
“i said,” he places another sly kiss near the corner of your mouth, moving his head when you turn to catch him. “do you like that boy?”
michael lets his thumb make semi-circular motions over your clit while you keen over it.
“who?” you eventually ask. his laugh startles you, and he rewards you with another kiss, this time on your nose.
“your co-star,” he clarifies with little resolve to hide the venom in his voice. “the one you were so keen on having collaborate with you. the one who had his hands all over you. the boy who was dying to fuck you.”
your eyes snapped open, and he realized it was the first time you had heard him curse, especially with such conviction. he held your gaze smugly as he applied pressure, eating the way you nearly shrieked and convulsed in his arms.
“well?” he asked. he knew the answer, but he had to be sure.
“n-no, michael,” you stuttered, gasping here and there as he slipped two fingers in you. “i wanted you, but the…ah, god! the label wanted someone young-ah! younger, unghh…”
“so why him?” he heard himself ask. when you failed to reply, he slapped a wide hand on your ass, coaxing a sharp moan out of you, and tugged you closer to him. his face leaned into yours, forcing your head against the mirror. “why him, fox?”
“because he reminded me of you!”
michael couldn’t take it anymore. he pulled his fingers out of you and grabbed your face. he doesn’t remember who started the kiss, but he knows it was passionate, with teeth, tongue, and all-around sloppy kisses. disgusting, face-eating, but he didn’t care. he was on a high like no other, and he needed you badly.
your hips snapped to his, your legs around his waist like a vice. you crossed your arms behind his upper back and raked your nails through his suit jacket. he held your hips tight, so tight he was sickened; it may leave bruises behind, but the forethought on his mind was rubbing your wet cunt all over his pants.
it was like dancing, he thought cloudily. you gyrated your hips over his clothed cock, and he pushed back harder into your core. you released one arm from his neck to clasp the edge of the vanity sink for support, using it as leverage to hump him like an animal. he was no better, huffing and puffing his way to his peak.
he watched you through hooded eyes as you chased your own orgasm, his name a mantra on your lips. you were so unbelievably sexy, confident, gorgeous, young; all he could do was try to share that with you, drinking in everything you were.
“michael–” you gasped, eyes screwing shut as you jumped his hips. one of his hands cracked down on your asscheek. “i–”
he ducked his head into the crook of your neck, exactly where your co-star had kissed you in the music video. he gnawed at your skin there, leaving wet kisses there. he felt you gasp thrice, stilling against him, quivering hard.
he mashed your hips down onto his bulge, popping himself into you before creaming his own pants. he collapsed into you and tried catching his breath, blinking out of his lustful haze.
your hand absentmindedly stroked his hair, careful of the top of his head. his cheek pressed against your breast; he dared not move. he fucked up. bad. where would that bring you? how could he possibly continue to manage your career with him taking advantage of you like this? he should have known better; maybe rub one out rather than tempt himself around you. especially when you were drunk, vulnerable.
“i waited all day for that,” he hears you hum above him, content. he closes his eyes with a deep sigh.
fucked was not the word that could describe the state he was in.
᭄᭡ thoughts from saff: oh god, this came out a little longer than intended, but i like PWP, i like to see the thoughts of the person, and i feel like michael would be uncertain about the age gap, even though it's totally kosher since they're both adults
dededos
turnnoffyourmind
kianamaiart
snowghoul
