m-sloane

.✦ ݁˖ descriptions: you find yourself trapped in a tiny elevator with your ex, michael. where years of hidden resentment explode into a night of wild, relentless passion before management tears you apart.

content: 18+, smut, trapped in elevator, public?sex, toxic exes, softbutverydom!michael, bad!era, they both nasty and toxic asf bro 🤍

╰┈➤ the glass doors of the grand hotel ballroom hissed open, spilling out gold light, jazz standard rehearsals, and the suffocating perfume of high-society press events. you kept your stride steady, your heels clicking in a sharp, rhythmic cadence against the polished marble floor. wrapped tightly around your shoulders was a heavy, plush hotel throw blanket—a desperate shield against the chill of the midnight air you were so eager to step into.

behind you, you could feel his eyes. you didn’t need to look. you’d known the distinct, heavy weight of michael’s gaze since you were sixteen years old—long before the fedoras, the single glove, and the crushing gravity of global stardom.

twice tonight he’d tried to close the gap. once near the champagne fountain, stepping out from a cluster of suit-and-tie executives with that quiet, disarming smile. you’d turned on your heel, pretending to spot a friend across the room. the second time was near the balcony doors; he’d murmured your name, low and pitched only for you, but you’d kept walking, letting the crowd swallow you whole.

by 10:45 pm, you’d finally slipped away up to your suite, stripping out of the restrictive gown and pulling on a silk pajama set, keeping the thick blanket wrapped over your shoulders. your head was buzzing. you needed air. grabbing your pack of cigarettes and a lighter from the nightstand, you headed down the carpeted hallway toward the elevators, desperate for a quiet smoke on the ground terrace.

at 10:58 pm, the brass doors slid open.

you nearly walked straight into a chest clad in a soft, oversized waffle-knit top and a loose black knit cardigan. michael stumbled back slightly, a glass of orange juice tilting dangerously in his right hand. a few drops splashed over the rim, barely missing the hem of your pajama pants.

"whoa—watch it!" you snapped, instinctively taking a step back, your hand flying up to hold the blanket tight around your chest.

michael steadied the glass, his dark eyes widening in surprise before settling into that familiar, infuriatingly smooth composure. he stepped out onto the carpet, turning his whole body toward you.

"my fault, my fault," he said softly, his voice gentle, almost melodic. he looked you up and down, his eyes lingering on the silk fabric peeking out beneath the heavy blanket. "i wasn't expecting..."

you rolled your eyes and went to step around him into the empty elevator cab. the heavy doors began their slow crawl inward to close, but michael’s hand shot out, catching the rubber edge and forcing them back open.

his eyes locked onto the white pack of cigarettes clutched tight in your fingers. his brow furrowed, instantly dropping the easy demeanor for a sudden, sharp spike of irritation.

"you're still doing that?" he criticized, pointing an index finger at the pack. "you know what those do to your lungs. you promised me years ago you’d quit."

"and you promised me you’d mind your own damn business," you shot back without missing a beat, clutching your blanket tighter. "you don't get to lecture me, michael. not anymore."

michael sneered playfully, stepping right through the threshold into the car with you. "just saying. it's a nasty habit." he let his eyes rake over your silk pajamas again, a subtle, slow smirk curving his lips. "though... i gotta admit. you look good. pajamas and a giant blanket suit you."

"you wasn't invited in here," you said, shifting your weight and pressing your thumb against the panel to hit the lobby button.

"i invited myself," he said smoothly, leaning his shoulder against the mirrored back wall, taking a slow sip of his orange juice.

"get out, michael." you slammed your finger on the door open button.

the doors shuddered and started to part. michael reached over your shoulder, his broad chest lightly brushing your back, and jammed the door close button.

"michael!"

you jammed open. he jammed close. you hit open again, your elbow shoving his arm out of the way. he laughed—that rich, throaty sound that used to make your chest ache—and pushed his way back to the panel.

"stop it, you're being childish—"

"you started it!"

"i am trying to go downstairs!" you lunged for the panel, but michael blocked you with his forearm. in his eagerness to keep the doors shut, he didn't just press the button—he slammed his wide, heavy palm flat against the brass control box.

a loud, mechanical clack echoed up the shaft. the elevator lurched violently. the overhead lights flickered once, twice, and died, replaced instantly by the low, warm amber glow of the emergency panel. the car shuddered to a dead stop between floors.

silence heavy enough to drown in filled the metal box.

you stared at the panel, then turned your head slowly to glare at him. "tell me you didn't."

michael blinked, looking down at his palm, then up at the dark ceiling, and finally back at you. he set his glass of orange juice carefully on the small handrail behind him.

you marched to the control board and slapped the red help/emergency button. a high-pitched alarm buzzed through the speaker, followed by absolute static. you held it down. nothing. you pressed it again.

"hello? is anyone on this line? we're stuck between floors!"

only the faint hum of static answered. a small plaque below the speaker caught the dim light: emergency line monitored 6:00 am – 11:00 pm.

it was 11:02 pm.

you let out a harsh, disbelieving laugh, dropping your head against the cool stainless steel wall. "unbelievable. we're stuck here until morning."

michael leaned back against the mirrored wall, crossing his arms over his cardigan. a slow, genuinely delighted smile spread across his face, his dark eyes glinting in the amber light.

"well," he murmured, his voice laced with shameless satisfaction. "i guess we are."

"don't look so happy, you idiot," you hissed, unwrapping the thick plush blanket from your shoulders and spreading it out across the carpeted floor so you wouldn't have to sit directly on the hotel rug. you slid down against the wall, sitting on the edge of the blanket, pulling your knees up to your chest. "you broke the lift."

"i didn't break it, you were fighting me!" michael protested, sitting down on the opposite corner of your blanket, stretching his long legs out in front of him. "if you had just let me talk to you at the party instead of treating me like a ghost all night, we wouldn't even be in this elevator."

"talk to me?" you let out a dry spike of laughter. "michael, what was there to talk about? you didn't talk to me when we were together. why start now?"

"that's not fair," he countered, his quiet tone giving way to the raw edge of old frustrations. "i was working! i was trying to build something legendary. i was locked into the music, into the vision—"

"you were locked into your own damn head!" you turned your head to lock eyes with him, the years of accumulated resentment bubbling straight to the surface. "we dated since we were sixteen years old, mike! i supported every single dream you ever had. but the second thriller blew up and you started planning the bad era, i completely ceased to exist to you. you were so consumed by your career, so blinded by your own ambitions, that you didn't even notice you were leaving me behind!"

"i did everything for us!" michael snapped, shifting closer on the blanket, his fingers digging into the plush fabric. "i was securing our future! i wanted you by my side for all of it!"

"no, michael, you wanted an ornament!" you yelled, your voice cracking slightly in the small space. "i had my own life, my own career, my own success! but every time i was with you, i was made to feel like i was just in the way of your precious schedules and studio time. you didn't give me the love or attention i deserved. i gave you my youth, and you treated me like a distraction to your master plan!"

silence fell over the elevator again, heavy and thick with the ghosts of their past. michael’s jaw was tight, his chest heaving under his waffle-knit shirt. he stared at you, the anger slowly draining from his eyes, replaced by a sudden, painful realization that hit him like a physical blow.

he looked down at his socks, his voice dropping an octave, losing its sharp edges as the clock ticked past 11:30 pm. "you felt... like you were in the way?"

"i knew i was in the way," you whispered, turning your face toward the steel wall. "and i had too much pride to keep begging for crumbs of your time."

michael swallowed hard, the silence stretching long and agonizing before he spoke again, his voice barely audible. "you burned my shirts."

you blinked, caught off guard by the abrupt shift. "...what?"

"when you moved your stuff out of the house," he mumbled, a tiny, reluctant twitch appearing at the corner of his mouth despite the heavy air. "you took three of my favorite vintage button-downs and burned them in the backyard fire pit. bill told me."

you bit the inside of your cheek, trying to hold back the sudden, ridiculous urge to smile through the lingering sting in your chest. "they were ugly."

"they were custom, you absolute menace," michael shook his head, a soft, breathy laugh escaping his lips. "you always had the worst temper."

"and you were always an instigating, oblivious child," you retorted, though the venom was entirely gone from your tone.

as the midnight hour arrived at 12:00 am, the shift in the air became undeniable. the anger had burned itself out, leaving behind a raw, aching hollow that five years of separation hadn't managed to fill.

michael shifted, crawling slightly closer until he was sitting right beside you on the blanket, his shoulder resting against yours. the warmth radiating off his body was overwhelming.

"i was so foolish," he said softly, his long fingers tracing the stitched pattern of the blanket between you. "i was so obsessed with reaching the top, with making history... i was so locked into my dreams that i didn't see i was losing the only person who actually loved me for me. i took you for granted. god, i was so blind."

you looked at his side profile—the sharp jawline, the soft curls falling over his forehead, the deep shadow of regret in his dark eyes.

"i missed how quiet you get when you're actually happy," you admitted, your voice trembling slightly. "not the superstar michael. just... mike. the guy who used to steal my fries at the drive-thru."

michael let out a low chuckle, turning his head to look at you. his dark eyes were warm, liquid, reflecting the dim emergency amber lights. "you know... i wrote lady in my life about you back then. but sitting here tonight... remembering everything... i feel like one day i'm gonna write a whole song about this. about us. just sitting down and saying, 'do you remember the time?' remembering sixteenth street. remembering the hideout behind the garage. remembering you."

your breath hitched. "michael..."

"remember that night in chicago?" he whispered, sliding closer until his knee was pressed against your thigh, his tone dropping into something thick, slow, and dark. "when we locked ourselves in the back room of that studio? you were wearing that red velvet dress... and you wouldn't let me touch you until i promised to take you out for pizza at two in the morning?"

a sudden, hot spike of memory shot straight through your lower belly. "michael, don't..."

"and remember what i did to you on that couch once you finally let me?" he continued, his voice dropping even lower, husky and smooth, raspy at the edges. his dark eyes fixed onto your lips, unblinking. "how you screamed so loud into my shoulder because you were afraid the engineers outside would hear us? you begged me to stop, but every time i pulled back, you wrapped your legs right around my waist and pulled me right back in."

"stop..." you breathed, but your hands didn't push him away. they clutched the edges of the blanket beneath you.

"you remember how good it felt," michael murmured, slipping off his cardigan and tossing it aside, leaving him in just his thin shirt that stretched tightly over his broad shoulders. he reached out, his long, slender fingers curling around the back of your neck, pulling you inches closer. "you think about it just like i do. five years... five damn years of sitting in empty hotel rooms, wishing it was your body under mine instead of nothing."

"you're awful," you whispered, your heart hammering against your ribs like a wild animal.

"i'm desperate," he corrected softly, his thumb sweeping over your lower lip, pressing down just enough to part your mouth. "i'm so fucking down bad for you, it makes me sick."

the dam broke.

when his lips crashed onto yours, it wasn't gentle—it was a fierce, consuming collision of five years of unspent passion, longing, and bitter grief. teeth clashing, tongues tangling, your hands instantly fisting into his soft, dark curls, dragging him down onto you so hard your skulls almost collided. michael groaned, a low, heavy sound vibrating from his chest as he pushed you back onto the plush blanket, his tall frame hovering over yours before settling flush against you. the sudden shift rattled the metal elevator walls with a loud, hollow thud, the vibrations echoing in the cramped, enclosed space.

his hands were everywhere at once, clumsy with a frantic, desperate speed to make up for lost time. he dragged your silk pajama top up over your head, the fabric catching against your hair before he tore it free and tossed it onto the carpet. his dark eyes, blown wide with lust, raked over your bare chest in the warm amber glow of the emergency panel.

"look at you," he breathed, his voice raw, raspy, completely stripped of his public polish. sweat was already glistening on his collarbones. "god, you're so beautiful... look at what you do to me, girl. i missed this so much. i missed every single inch of you, mama."

he leaned down, burying his face in the crook of your neck, his lips hot against your skin before his teeth bit down hard—right at the sensitive junction where your neck met your shoulder. you gasped, an involuntary high moan ripping from your throat as your back arched off the blanket, your bare skin coming into contact with the freezing, sterile stainless steel of the elevator wall. the sudden shock of ice-cold metal against your burning, feverish back made you shudder violently.

"mike—"

before you could finish, his hand slid down the waistband of your silk pajama pants, dragging them down your thighs along with your panties in one rough, impatient yank. he kicked them free, leaving you completely bare beneath him on the thick blanket.

michael didn't wait. he stripped off his waffle-knit top, tearing it over his shoulders, and shoved his trousers down. his lean, defined chest was flushed red, a thin sheen of sweat making his skin slick.

he grabbed your wrist, slamming your palm flat against his chest right over his hammering heart. "touch me, mama. touch me right here. feel what you do to me. tell me i ain't crazy for wanting you like this."

"i missed you," you sobbed out softly, your fingers digging into his damp back, your nails leaving deep, red crescent marks along his spine. "mike, please..."

"say it right," he rasped, his breath hot and heavy against your earlobe, his hand sliding down between your thighs. he knew your body better than anyone else ever could—his fingers instantly found the exact, sensitive spot he used to drive you insane with when you were teenagers. he slipped two fingers straight inside you, slicking himself with your heat. "tell me what you want me to do to you on this floor, baby. tell me how bad you need this dick after five years. tell me if anyone else ever touched you like this."

"nobody!" you whimpered, rolling your hips up against his hand, the wet, squelching sound of his fingers working you open echoing off the steel walls. "nobody, michael! fuck me... stop talking and just fuck me!"

michael let out a dark, breathless chuckle, his fingers digging deep, stretching you, slicking your inner thighs until you were writhing, completely undone. "that's what i thought... look at how wet you are for me, mama. all this slick... you been saving this all for me?"

he guided his thick tip to your entrance, his broad hips resting between your trembling legs. he stared down into your eyes, his dark pupils reflecting the amber light, burning with a terrifying, possessive intensity.

"you're mine," he whispered fiercely, his voice trembling with years of suppressed hunger. "you were always mine, girl. nobody else gets to touch this. only me."

with one deep, relentless push, he buried himself all the way inside you to the hilt.

you threw your head back against the blanket, a loud, breathless scream tearing from your throat, but michael caught it, slamming his mouth over yours, swallowing your cry and tasting his own name on your tongue as he began to move. his rhythm was heavy, deep, and completely unhurried, driving into you with a desperate, heavy drag that made your entire body tremble.

"ah... fuck, you feel so good," michael groaned against your neck, his hands pinning your wrists to the blanket above your head. his breath was coming in ragged, shallow gasps, sweat dripping from his temple onto your chest. "so tight... so wet... taking every single inch of me, mama..."

he began to dig you out, angling his hips down, finding that sweet spot high inside you and hammering into it with relentless, punishing precision. every stroke was a confession, every heavy plunge driving deeper until you were weeping, your head thrashing against the floor.

"you feel that?" michael rasped, his voice thick, dirty, and heavy against your temple. "that's all you, baby. all mine. talk to me... tell me how good it feels to have me deep inside you again."

"mike—oh god, mike!" you cried out, your moans echoing loudly in the tiny metal box, the heavy slap of his hips against yours sounding thick and wet in the enclosed space.

"i got you," he whispered frantically, his lips moving down your jawline, his wet chest sliding against yours. he slowed his thrusts just a fraction, leaning over you so his dark, heavy gaze held yours captive. "let me see that pretty face you’d always make when you let go for me, mama. show it to me..."

he drove up deep into that exact spot, and your head immediately bobbed back against the blanket. a broken, high-pitched moan ripped from your throat, your lips parted, your whole body trembling as the peak hit you like a wave.

michael growled softly, watching your expression unravel beneath him as he kept up a steady, brutal rhythm. "there she is," he rasped, his voice thick with triumph as he talked you through it. "that's my pretty baby coming for me real good... look at you taking all of it..."

a soft, desperate whimper broke from your lips as you came. the sheer pleasure of it hit you right alongside a sharp pang of realization—how easily he still commanded your body, how he always made you feel so disgustingly good, and how he somehow always got away with it. five years apart, and he could still bring you to your knees with just a few words and a push of his hips.

a sudden, fierce surge of possessive anger flared up inside you. no. not this time. you weren't just going to lie there and let him have his way. you had to take your revenge.

before he could even catch his breath, before the overstimulation of your orgasm could settle, you gripped his damp shoulders and shoved him backward with all the strength you had left.

michael blinked up in dazed shock as you flipped him onto his back, straddling his waist. both of you were completely flushed, slick with sweat, and hyper-sensitive, but you didn't give him a single second to recover. you lifted yourself up and slammed right back down onto his thick shaft, taking his full length all over again in one devastating stroke.

michael gasped, his eyes flying wide, his head slamming back against the blanket. "oh... damn, girl! wait—"

"no!" you yelled, your voice a mess of high-pitched moans, sharp gasps, and raw emotion. you set your feet flat on the blanket on either side of his hips, using your legs to power a relentless, punishing rhythm, bouncing up and down on him with furious, unstoppable force.

"ah... fuck—wait, mama—shh, hold on, you're gonna make me—" michael choked out, his hands flying to your hips, his long fingers digging into your soft skin to try and slow your wild pace. his body was so overstimulated he was shaking, but you slapped his hands away.

"don't... ah!... don't tell me to wait!" you moaned out, riding him mercilessly, every word broken by heavy gasps as you slammed down on him. "five years, michael! five... oh god... five damn years i sat back and hated your guts!"

michael let out a broken groan, his hips twitching involuntarily as you rode him deeper and harder, the friction between your slick bodies driving you both insane. "girl, please—you're driving me crazy—"

"i hated you!" you sobbed out, moaning loudly as you drove yourself down to his hilt, tears finally spilling down your cheeks as you pounded down onto him. "i hated... mmph... seeing your face on every billboard! i hated watching you perform... ahh!... watching you move on stage and knowing i was sitting alone in a hotel room while you belonged to the whole damn world!"

michael’s head was bobbing back against the floor, his jaw clenched so tight the tendons stood out in his neck, his dark curls plastered to his forehead with sweat. his hands reached up, grasping at your waist, trying to brace himself against the overwhelming, sweet agony of your rhythm. "ah... god, mama... you ride so good... damn..."

"and you know what... ah!... broke my heart the most?" you cried out, leaning forward, pinning your palms against his damp, heaving chest as you continued to drive yourself up and down on his length without stopping. "every time i watched you dance... mmm... every time i saw you perform... i'd get so damn wet... oh god, mike!... thinking about how you used to touch me! i hated... ah!... how bad i wanted you! i was so angry we didn't work out, mike! you broke me!"

the raw honesty of your words, mixed with the sight of you moaning and riding him so wildly, shattered whatever control michael had left. his dark eyes locked onto yours, completely filled with tears, swimming with five years of regret and intense lust.

"i'm sorry," michael gasped out, his voice cracking, his hands sliding up your sides to drag you down closer to his chest. "i'm so sorry, mama! look at me—i'm sorry!"

he didn't try to stop your pace anymore. instead, michael propped his knees up, changing the angle entirely, and began thrusting up into you from below, meeting every single desperate plunge of your hips with a powerful, arching drive of his own.

"i was so foolish, mama," he whispered fiercely into your ear, his chest heaving against yours as he buried his face in your neck, kissing every inch of skin he could reach while his hips slammed up into you. "i was so locked into the noise, i didn't see i was killing us. i'm so sorry... i love you so much, baby. take it, mama... take it all. i never stopped loving you."

the combination of his dirty, sweet words and his hips slamming up into you turned your anger into pure, overwhelming pleasure. you collapsed forward against his chest, your arms wrapping tightly around his neck as he took over the rhythm, lifting you and driving up into you with long, deep, filthy strokes that made the elevator frame groan beneath you both.

"mike... mike, yes! ah!" you sobbed into his shoulder, biting his skin to muffle your screams.

"yeah, mama, right there," he rasped into your ear, his voice thick, sweet, and desperately breathless as he dug into you. "come for me again. come on my dick, girl... let it go for me. show me how much you love me..."

his words pushed you over the brink for the second time. your body locked up, your inner muscles gripping him tight, pulling a loud, helpless groan from deep in his chest. michael arched his back off the floor, thrusting up as deep as he could possibly go, his body shaking violently as he came inside you once more, holding you as tightly against his heart as humanly possible.

as the waves of your second climax began to settle, both of you lay there in a heavy tangle of limbs, chests heaving in the warm, close air of the stalled elevator. but michael wasn't done showing you how much he needed you.

before you could fully catch your breath, his hands moved to your hips. he slipped out of you with a heavy, wet drag that echoed off the steel walls, leaving you shivering from the sudden emptiness.

"wait... mike," you panted, your voice weak, your thighs still trembling uncontrollably.

"no, sit up for me, mama," michael whispered, his voice thick with an absolute, unyielding devotion. he slid out from under you, shifting himself back until his head was resting right on the plush blanket, looking up at you from the floor with those dark, dark doe eyes. "i ain't done showing you how sorry i am. sit on my face, baby."

you blinked down at him, hyper-aware of how sensitive you were, but michael didn't give you time to hesitate. his large, warm hands reached up, cupping the curves of your ass cheeks forcefully, and guided you forward until you were straddling his face, your core hovering right over his lips.

"look at me, mama," he rasped, his warm breath fanning against your wet, overstimulated heat. "look down at me while i take care of you. show me how good i can make you feel..."

he didn't wait. michael parted your folds with his thumbs, opened his mouth wide, and flattened his warm tongue right against your clit, taking a long, deep, soaking lap all the way up.

"oh! mike!" you shrieked, your hands flying out to brace against his broad shoulders as your back arched violently.

he was a complete eater, plunging into you with a fierce, shameless hunger. the sound of his mouth on you was scandalously loud in the small metal box—a thick, wet, squelching rhythm of his tongue swirling, flicking, and lapping up every bit of your slick release. he buried his nose deep into your core, taking in your scent, breathing you in like he was starving.

his large hands didn't just hold you; his fingers dug hard into your ass cheeks, gripping you forcefully, physically steering your hips and moving you back and forth across his mouth. he dictated the slide, pressing your weight directly onto his face so you couldn't escape a single second of the friction.

desperation seized you all over again. looking down into his wide, dark doe eyes—glowing in the warm amber light, completely locked onto yours while his face was covered in your wetness—drove you over the edge. driven crazy by the contrast of his possessive grip and the relentless, filthy work of his tongue, you began to ride his face. you rolled your hips against his mouth, helpless, moaning out loud in the enclosed metal space as he drank you down.

"that's it, mama," michael murmured against your wet skin, his voice muffled, messy, and dripping with satisfaction as he felt you grinding wildly over his lips. "riding my face so good... take whatever you need, baby. i got you..."

he dug his fingers deeper into your cheeks, tilting his head up and pulling you down tighter against his mouth, making sure you felt every flat, broad stroke of his tongue, swirling it right where you needed it most. he sucked your clit into his mouth with a firm, rhythmic pull, lapping up the mess you were making, his tongue darting inside your entrance before sliding back up to coat your pearl.

"mike—i'm... oh god, mike, you're making such a mess... i'm gonna—"

"do it, mama," he growled against your heat, his hands squeezing your cheeks tight, anchoring you down, forcing you to ride him harder as he lapped faster, deeper, messier. "come right on my face... let me taste every drop. show me how much you missed your man..."

the sight of his beautiful face glistening with your slickness, his doe eyes staring up into yours with total surrender while he ate you out so ruthlessly, pushed you right over the brink for a third time. your head slammed back, a high, broken scream tearing from your throat as your body locked up, your hips shuttering violently against his mouth.

michael stayed right there through every single pulse, his hands holding your ass firm, swallowing your cries, lapping and sucking frantically, completely devouring your sweet release.

he didn't stop even as you collapsed against him.

he slid his large hands down under your thighs, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your upper legs, and gently lifted your hips higher. he shifted you up, angling your body so your core was perfectly exposed to him, elevating you just enough to give him complete, unhindered access.

"stay up for me, mama," he whispered against your slick skin, his voice thick and breathy. "i got you... let me get every last drop."

looking down through heavy, hooded eyes, you watched his dark doe eyes gaze right back up into yours, burning with total devotion as he began a slow, deliberate, soaking trail. starting from the very top of your mons, his warm, broad tongue pressed firm against your skin, dragging all the way down. he lapped over your pearl with a slow, heavy swirl, drew out a high, trembling whimper from your chest, and kept sliding lower—down through your swollen folds, trailing slickness along your entrance, all the way down to the bottom of your perineum.

he didn't miss a single millimeter. once he reached the bottom, he dipped his tongue back up, reversing the path in one long, continuous, wet stroke that made your hips twitch helplessly in his grip.

"look at you... so wet for me, girl," michael growled softly, his voice muffled against your skin as he kept that steady, sweeping motion going from top to bottom. "every single inch of you is mine. i'm taking it all, mama..."

he repeated the long, thorough stroke again and again—a slow, relentless, top-to-bottom rhythm that completely coated you in warmth. his hands held your lifted hips steady in the air, supporting your weight effortlessly while his tongue thoroughly devoured you, lapping up every trace of your release until your whole body was shivering in complete, liquid surrender against the floor.

for a long, quiet moment, neither of you moved. the only sound in the metal box was the heavy, synchronized rasps of your breathing and the slow, steady thudding of his heart beneath your cheek. the air was thick and heavy, filled with the sharp scent of sweat, expensive cologne, silk, and raw intimacy.

michael’s hands shifted from your hips, wrapping around your waist to pull you up flush against him. he held you tight, his long arms locked around you as if letting go for even a second would make you vanish back into the last five years.

his demeanor had completely softened. the raw, possessive intensity of the dirty talk faded, replaced by that quiet, gentle tenderness that used to undo you completely.

michael reached up, his long, slender fingers trembling slightly as he brushed damp, stray strands of hair away from your forehead. he pressed a long, lingering kiss to your temple, then another to your cheek, tasting the salty track of your tears.

"look at me, mama," he whispered, his voice hushed and raspy.

you lifted your head slowly, your eyes swollen and heavy. michael looked up at you with completely soft, dark eyes, searching your face. he reached out, his thumb gently tracing the faint red mark on your neck where his teeth had dug in earlier, his expression softening with regret. he leaned up, pressing his soft lips directly over the mark, kissing it gently to soothe the sting.

"i got a little crazy," he murmured against your skin, his hands sliding up to cup your jawline gently. "i'm sorry... i just missed you so much, baby. i didn't mean to hurt you."

before you could answer, the silence was shattered.

beep.

a sharp, mechanical chime echoed through the shaft. with a heavy, metallic shudder, the elevator suddenly jolted back to life. the overhead lights flickered from warm emergency amber back to bright, sterile white, and the floor indicator began to tick steadily upward.

floor 4... floor 5...

panic instantly cut through the haze of post-orgasmic exhaustion. you were both completely bare, slick with sweat, clothes scattered across the floor, and the lift was moving toward the lobby.

"oh god," you gasped, trying to scramble off him, but michael’s grip tightened around your waist, pulling you back down against his chest for one more frantic second before letting you go.

"hold on, hold on, i got you," michael said quickly, his voice laced with breathless urgency.

you both scrambled across the blanket in a frantic blur of tangled limbs and hurried whispers. you snatched up your silk pajama top, pulling it over your head while your hands shook so badly you could barely function. michael dragged his trousers back up, zipping them hastily before grabbing his top.

as you reached for your pajama pants, michael caught your wrist. his fingers were hot against your skin. you turned to look at him, your heart hammering against your ribs. he was disheveled—his dark curls smudged and damp against his forehead, his shirt rumpled, his lips swollen—looking completely undone in a way the world never got to see.

he reached down with his free hand, sliding a heavy silver signet ring off his index finger. without taking his eyes off yours, he slipped it onto your thumb. it was warm from his skin.

he pulled your hand up to his lips, kissing your knuckles right over the silver band.

"this lift might be moving, mama," michael whispered, his voice low, steady, and utterly possessive. he held your gaze, his dark eyes vulnerable yet intensely desperate. "but, can we... can we try again? just you and me. please, baby... tell me we can fix this."

your breath hitched in your throat. you stared at him, your lips parting, completely torn between the lingering hurt of five years apart and the raw, overwhelming love still burning in your chest. you opened your mouth, struggling to find the words, your mind racing as you fought to answer him—

ding.

the elevator jolted to a dead stop. before you could speak, the doors slid wide open to the bright, carpeted hotel hallway—and a wall of furious security and panicked management.

"michael!" his manager barked, stepping forward with an army of guards in tow, his face pale with stress. "where the hell have you—"

he froze, eyes widening as he took in the state of the lift: the blanket tossed across the floor, the heavy scent of sex, your tangled hair, and michael’s swollen, bitten lips. your own manager shoved her way through the crowd, gasping in horror at the sight of you disheveled and barely zipped into your clothes.

"out. both of you, now," your manager ordered, grabbing your arm and forcefully dragging you out of the lift before the press or any hotel guests could catch a glimpse.

michael’s manager simultaneously grabbed him by the shoulder, yanking him backward toward the executive suite corridor. michael stumbled back, his eyes never leaving yours, his hand outstretched across the widening gap between you as the guards flooded in to block the view.

michael jackson x black reader

It was early in the morning, around eight o'clock, and you were up getting dressed to go help your close friend produce their newest album. You were damn good at your job, so when they needed someone to bring their project to life, you were the first person they called—and you had zero problem stepping up. The only real dilemma was figuring out who was going to watch your daughter, Aurora, for the day.

You had assumed Michael would be completely tied up, buried in the studio finishing up tracks for HIStory. But the second you brought up your predicament, his face lit up. He was more than eager to take the day off just to stay home with her.

“—That way I get to spend more time with, Tiny,” he had exclaimed, using the sweet nickname he’d given her the very day she was born. Back then, her small frame had looked so fragile in your arms, practically weightless like a little porcelain doll. You remember the soft wet laugh that escaped him as he whispered through joyous tears about how adorable and tiny she was. You suppose the name just stuck.

So now, here he was, sitting on the edge of the bed, the mattress sinking slightly under his weight with a 6 month old Aurora cradled securely in his lap. She was contentedly gnawing on a teething toy, both of their eyes locked on you as you moved around the room putting the final touches of your outfit together.

"I should be back hopefully around seven," you said, checking your reflection in the mirror one last time. "Just call me if you need me, or if anything goes wrong."

"Mama, relax. I can handle it," he said gently, rising from the edge of the bed and strolling over to where you stood. Your daughter rested contently on his hip, her tiny hand clutching his shirt while she gnawed on her teether.

He slid his free arm around your waist, his large palm settling on your stomach and pulling you flush against his chest. "Look at my baby lookin' all sexy and professional," he murmured, his dark eyes trailing down your simple setup of a white button down and a pair of tailored wide legged dark-wash jeans.

Normally, most people wouldn't dress up just to head into a studio session, but you always insisted on looking put together wherever you went—you never knew who you might run into, and your presence was part of your brand.

"Boy, I always look sexy and professional," you retorted without missing a beat, a confident smirk curling your lips as you adjusted your earring in the mirror.

Michael let out that low, soft giggle of his, leaning in to press another warm, lingering kiss, this time to your neck, his breath hot against your skin. "Can't even argue with you on that one," he hummed, his chest vibrating against your back. "You look good, Tinka. Real good."

He shifted Aurora slightly on his hip, and the little girl let out a happy, babbling noise, reaching out one chubby hand toward your hair. Michael caught her wrist with effortless gentleness, kissing her tiny knuckles before looking back at your reflection with a proud, dopey grin.

"See? Babygirl agrees with me," he teased, his hand sliding down to your side, thumb rubbing small, comforting circles into your hip bone. "Now stop worryin' about us. We’re gonna have a full day of playing, watching cartoons, and probably driving the staff crazy. Right, pumpkin?"

Aurora just kicked her feet against his stomach in response, entirely pleased with her daddy.

With a final confirmation, you smoothed the imaginary wrinkles from your pants before turning around to face Michael. Looking at the two of them now, you can't help but notice how similar they look. From the shape of their eyes to the curves of their cheeks. Even when she smiled, there was something unmistakably familiar about her expression, as if you were looking at a mini-Michael. The longer you looked between the two of them, the more similarities seemed to reveal themselves. It was almost as if God deliberately put you through hell for nine months, just for you genes to barely make an appearance.

Though the thought alone was enough to bring a small involuntary smile to your lips, though it only lingered for another moment before you pulled yourself out of it, remembering you still had somewhere to be. You glances at your watch, realizing that you could afford to get lost in your fluffy thoughts for much longer.

"Alright, appleheads, I'm out. Be good for daddy." You leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your daughter's forehead before straightening up. Your attention shifted to your husband, a small smile tugging at your lips as you leaned in closer.

"And you be good, too."

"I'm always good, girl," he replied with a goofy grin.

You only laughed softly, leaning up to press a few quick pecks to his lips before pulling away. For a moment, you lingered there, taking in the warmth of the quiet little scene with your family before finally grabbing your things and heading downstairs.

"I love you guys, I'll be back later," was the last thing heard before the door closed, leaviing Michael and Aurora standing there in the soft quiet of the foyer. Michael let out a small breath, glancing down at the little girl in his arms.

They’ll be fine, you thought as you slid into the backseat of the car.

“C’mon, baby, just eat it. Your mama would literally strangle me if she knew I didn’t feed you.” Michael whined softly, sitting just a few inches away from Aurora’s high chair. A small plate of oatmeal sat in front of her, the spoon still hovering patiently between them.

You’d been slowly transitioning Aurora from milk to solid foods, which sounded easy enough. In practice, however, Michael had discovered that convincing a six-month-old to eat was an entirely different story.

He’d been holding the spoon up to her mouth for what felt like a whole three minutes now.

Aurora hadn’t budged.

As the gentle parent he wanted to be, Michael didn’t want to force her. If she wasn’t ready to take the bite, he’d rather let her decide for herself. So he simply waited, keeping the spoon near her mouth while she stared back at him with an expression that was almost suspiciously serious.

“For daddy?” he pleaded softly. “Please?”

Aurora only blinked.

Michael blinked back.

Neither of them moved.

“…Tiny.”

Another slow blink.

He sighed, lowering the spoon slightly.

“I bet you already know you got me wrapped around your finger, huh?”

Aurora responded with a tiny babble, her little hands resting against the tray of her high chair.

Michael’s couldn’t help the way his face immediately softened.“Yeah, you know..”

He lifted the spoon again, bringing it toward her mouth without rushing her.

“Just a little taste. That’s all daddy’s asking for.”

Aurora’s eyes followed the small pink spoon before drifting back up to his face. And there they were again—those big, round doe eyes that looked identical to his own.

Michael paused.

He stared at her for a second, then shook his head with a quiet laugh.

“Man… you really do have my eyes.”

Aurora simply stared back at him, seeming completely unbothered by the realization.

“Okay, pretty girl. One bite.” He patiently held the spoon out again. “Then you can decide if you like it.”

For a few seconds, Aurora only stared at the spoon, her little brows furrowing as though she were carefully considering his offer. Then, finally, she opened her mouth.

“That’s it,” he murmured, gently guiding the spoon between her lips. Aurora took the bite, and for a moment, Michael watched her closely, waiting for the inevitable grimace he’d been expecting. Instead, her little face brightened.

Her eyes widened, and she made a soft, pleased sound before opening her mouth again, this time reaching toward the spoon on her own.

Michael broke into a grin. “Oh, now you want some?” He let out a quiet laugh, scooping up another small bite and bringing it toward her.

“There’s my girl. That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

Aurora eagerly accepted the next bite, her tiny hands patting against the tray as she babbled happily. Michael could only shake his head, smiling to himself.

“Look at you,” he murmured. “Actin’ like you ain’t just had daddy fighting for his life over one little spoonful.”

After a bath, and a full day spent playing and practicing tummy time, the house had slowly settled into a quiet evening. And your ass still wasn’t home.

Michael had decided to put on a movie, figuring the two of them could relax for a while. He searched through his collection of VHS tapes until he finally found what he was looking for.

Peter Pan, his favorite.

He slid the tape into the VCR and made himself comfortable on the plush sofa in the living room, stretching out as Aurora settled against his chest. She was freshly bathed and dressed in a soft pink onesie—the same one her grandmother Katherine gifted you during the baby shower—her pacifier bobbing gently between her lips as her wide eyes remained fixed on the television.

Michael glanced down at her before looking back at the screen. “This is my favorite movie,” he said softly. “Which means it’s gonna be your favorite too.”

Aurora gave no response, too captivated by the colors moving across the television. Michael smiled to himself.

“You know why I call your mama Tink?”

He paused, though he already knew he wasn’t getting an answer.“’Cause she reminds me of Tinkerbell. Full of personality, cute and feisty…” His smile grew softer. “And loyal. She’s always been by my side.”

His gaze returned to the television, but he wasn’t really watching the movie anymore. His thoughts had drifted somewhere else entirely. “She’s given me so much,” he continued quietly. “A better perspective on life. Love…”

His eyes lowered to Aurora. “She gave me you.”

His fingers gently found one of her tiny coils, carefully twirling it around his finger before letting it spring back into place. Aurora remained perfectly content against his chest, her little body rising and falling with each quiet breath.

Michael swallowed, his expression growing thoughtful as he thought about you, his sweet girl. “I wanna be the best for her,” he murmured. “For you, too.”

His hand moved slowly along her back, almost absentmindedly. “I wanna be the father I never had. Somebody you can count on. Somebody gentle. Somebody you never have to be afraid of.”

He looked down at her again, his voice barely above a whisper now.

“I wanna’ be your safe space, y’know?”

Aurora shifted slightly against his chest, her tiny fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt, causing Michael to smile.

“I promise,” he whispered. “I’m gonna’ be good for you and your mama.”

For a while, he didjt say anything else. The movie continued playing in the background, the soundtrack Michael grew familiar too playing softly in the background as the two drifted to sleep in the warmth of each others presence.

About seven hours later, you finally returned home.

After thanking your driver, you stepped out of the car and made your way toward the front door, already looking forward to nothing more than a hot shower, the comfort of your bed, and the comfort of your husbands arms.

You unlocked the door, stepped inside, and quietly closed it behind you before locking it again. A tired sigh escaped you as you kicked your heels off near the entrance. You’d get them later.

“I’m back,” you called softly into the house.

When you didn’t get an answer, you furrowed your brows slightly, glancing down the quiet hallway. “Mikey? Tiny?”

Still nothing.

Curiosity pulled you farther inside, your footsteps growing quieter as you made your way toward the living room. Then you stopped.

The sight in front of you instantly melted whatever exhaustion had been weighing on your shoulders. Aurora was curled comfortably against Michael’s chest, her tiny body completely relaxed as she slept. One of his arms rested protectively around her, his own head tilted slightly against the back of the plush sofa.

The television was still on, the ending credits of what you could only assume had been some Disney movie slowly rolling across the screen.

You couldn’t help but smile. “Aww, my angels…” you cooed to yourself.

You carefully stepped closer, doing everything you could not to wake them. For a moment, you simply stood there, taking in the sight of your husband and daughter sleeping peacefully together. It was almost too sweet to interrupt.

You leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss against Aurora’s forehead before moving to Michael and leaving an equally soft kiss against his.

With one last glance at the two of them, you quietly turned away, finally making your way upstairs for that long awaited hot shower.

taglist:

Summary: ☼𐬺𐬿Michael leaves you aching for him all day—and when returns home from the studio in the early hours of the morning he teases you relentlessly. 𐬾☼

Contents: ⁂𐬺☼Mdni/18+/Smut/Otw Era (a few months before release/ P in V/Dom!Michael/Teasing/Fisting/Use of “Mama” “Baby”/Sleepy Sex(?).𐬾𐬺☼

𐬺You were awaken around noon to Michael standing over you—peppering kisses along your jaw. He wore a red short-sleeved button down top and a pair of blue jeans. It was unfortunately evident where he was heading so early in the day.

He had that glazed look in his eye. A look you had grown to recognize entirely too well.

He claimed it was a “goodbye kiss.”

A goodbye kiss where his hand slipped between your legs, cupping your heat but not doing anything to ease the throbbing there.

“You’re so wet.” He murmured in surprise. “All I’ve done is kiss you.”

You had tugged on his shirt; willing him back to bed. “The studio can wait.”

“No it can’t mama.” He hummed, pulling his hand away from your mound, rendering you unsatisfied.

He tutted his tongue, insisting that he’d be back before you even noticed he was gone. “I’ll be back no later than Ten.”

That was never the case.

He’d smiled, reaching for the keys that he always left on the nightstand beside your king sized bed. A nightstand littered with letters the two of you had written while he was away. Your most treasured possessions.

His eyes scanned the letters, he reached down and held one up. A cheeky smile spread across his beautiful lips. It was a letter you’d written in a particularly horny fit of passion. A photograph of you in a lacy lingerie set tumbled from between the pages. He dropped the paper from his hands and replaced it with the picture.

“What ever happened to these?” He tapped on the scandalous undergarments.

You sat up completely, the blanket falling lazily from your body.

“I must’ve donated them on accident or something. I haven’t been able to find them since we donated those clothes to Salvation Army.”

“Hmm. What a shame.” He murmured, leaning in to whisper in your ear. “You looked so good in them mama.”

Heat shot directly to your face.

He clutched the keys in his hands, sauntering towards the door at smug and unhurried pace. “We’ll have to get you some new ones.” He chuckled, the corners of his lips curled into a devious grin that let you know that he knew exactly what he was doing.

“Love you.” He hummed, the bedroom door closed before you could respond.

That was how he left you. Dazed, aching, hungering.

You couldn’t recall being more upset with him in the entirety of your relationship.

꥟𐬺𐬿

𐬺You dozed in and out of sleep the entire night.

The first time you woke up feeling a deep throbbing between your legs. You cursed Michael before rolling over and nodding back off, hoping that it would wear off with sleep.

The second time you awoke was when the bedroom door opened signaling Michael’s return.

The third was when he’d climbed into bed beside you; clad in nothing but his underwear. His hair was damp and he smelled of a fresh shower. Your eyes drifted to the clock on the nightstand.

5:19 A.M

“Baby,” he hummed as he came up behind you, instinctively wrapping his arm around your waist; rubbing smooth circles there. “You awake?”

You were definitely awake, and you were definitely upset with him.

“No.” You grumbled. Not only had he teased you; not only had he purposefully left you aching for him all day. He’d come home late. Extremely late, much later than the 10PM he’d promised.

He was silent for a moment before taking hold of your hips. He pulled you towards him so that your ass was pressed firmly against his erection. You bit back a moan.

“Yes you are baby. Don’t be like that.” He whispered into your ear, his voice silky with lust.

You bit your cheek pulled away from him, refusing to look in his direction.

You wanted more than anything to turn around, straddle his hips and ride him until the sun rose and the moon vanished over the horizon, and to keep making love to him long after the sun set and the moon rose again.

The only thing preventing that was your pride. You couldn’t let him win that easily. You couldn’t let him win this little game twice.

“I’m tired Michael.” You huffed, reaching for the blanket and tugging it over your head.

He sat up now, draping one arm over you. He leaned down so his face was inches from your face. All he was met with were the silky pink sheets you’d insisted on having.

“You mad at me or somethin?”

“No.” Absolutely.

Michael, unimpressed, tugged the blanket off your head. He had this cartoonishly goofy pout on. You melted instantly and giggled.

“So why you actin like that?”

“Like what?”

“All…distant.”

“I’m just tired.” You hissed; angry at yourself for almost giving in so easily. You turned your head so you were facing the bedroom door; opposite of him.

Michael, unimpressed, squeezed you tighter. He rested his head against yours.

“I’m sorry for being gone for so long,” he whispered.

“Me n’ Q just got a little caught up. There was this one track we must’ve recorded like fifty times.” He laughed, the corners of your lips twitched.

Unrelenting, you hummed. “That’s all you’re sorry for?”

Michaels brows knit together, genuinely bewildered for a heartbeat. His pupils shifted as he searched your eyes before revealing a wicked smile that exposed all thirty two.

“You mad about all that teasing I was doing earlier?”

Your silence in of itself was an answer.

“Ohh. I see it now.” He hummed, his hips pressed against you. His bulge sat perfectly wedged between your ass. “I see why you’re really mad mama.”

Fuck.

“I left my baby all needy?” He thrusted his hips, earning him a muffled groan. He removed his hand from your hip; sliding it slowly up your body, leaving a trail of goosebumps in his wake. Eventually, his hand settled on your breasts. He gave one a firm squeeze.

You shoved your face until the pillow. Your resolution slipping more and more by the second. “You don’t got to punish me.” He hummed. “Being away from you was punishment enough.”

“I’ve been hard all day.” He admitted sheepishly. You cast him a glance over your shoulder.

“Thinking about you in that lingerie set. Thinking about kissing those sweet lips.” He leaned forward to press his lips into yours, his tongue slipped into your mouth, you welcomed the intrusion.

He pulled back from your lips only momentarily. A thin string of saliva connected you.

“You want it baby. I know you do. I know that look.” The look you’d desperately tried to hide in your pillow.

He knew you so well it was infuriating.

Before you processed what you were doing; you reached around—slipping your hand into his cotton briefs. He rutted into your hand and pinched on your nipple.

He groaned into your mouth, his tongue dancing with yours. He tugged at your hardened nipple, causing you to hiss and squeeze at his cock. He cried out, jerking backwards. He let go of your nipple.

“Don’t do that mama. You driving me wild.”

“Mhm. That’s what you get.”

He leaned forward, nibbling on the sensitive skin of your ear.

“You don’t want to play that game with me mama. You ain’t gon’ win.” His finger hooked on the frilly lace of your nightgown, tossing it up so your ass was completely exposed to him.

His fingers wrapped around the flesh of your thigh, gently lifting your leg so he could get a look at your sopping cunt. He used his free hand to trail up your leg, placing his finger on your nub. You hissed, your hips jerking involuntarily.

He tutted his tongue, pulling away and setting your thigh back down. “Oh she’s soaked. That’s why you’ really mad at me.”

He buried himself in the nape of your neck, taking in your sweet scent, his hands occupied as he fisted his cock between the two of you.

“Fuck. Stop teasing me Michael.”

He licked and sucked at the sensitive skin on the nape of your neck, completely ignoring your demands.

“Poor neglected cunt. Been needing me all day.” He brought the tip of his cock to your entrance, sliding in ever so slightly. You hissed, your back arching into him. You needed more and you needed more right now.

He placed his hands on your lower back, stilling you. Preventing you from taking more of him in.

“Ain’t she pretty?” He huffed, tapping his tip against your folds repeatedly. “Gorgeous little thing.”

He’d been teasing you relentlessly since yesterday. You’d been aching for him, and his body for—in the moment—felt like years. You wanted him to stuff you with his cock, to fill you up completely. Was that such a hard ask? You were so frustrated and pent up that you began to cry. The hot tears tricking down your skin.

You reached around, grabbing the base of his cock—pulling more of his veiny length inside you.

Michael yelped in surprise, his hips jerking as he sunk deeper into your heat. The two of you squirmed as he bottomed out.

You reached around, squeezing his hand as your body fought to adjust.

“Ouch. Careful girl.” He hummed; gently prying his hand away, and instead reaching forward to hold your lower abdomen—massaging you gently there. “I got you..”

Michael went silent, as if he were trying to figure something out. “You cryin’?”

You nodded fervently, biting your lip as you fought back a whimper.

“Am I hurting you mama?” He began to pull out of you. You hissed at the sensation before grabbing his wrist, stopping him in his tracks.

“What. What is it?” His voice—if for the first time all evening—was filled with nothing but genuine concern.

“You’re not hurting me Michael.” You whimpered into the pillows—embarrassed. “It’s the teasing. Stop teasing me, please.”

“You needed it that bad?” He hummed, leaning forward to press a revert kiss on your cheek—your tears tasting of the most precious salt.

“M’sorry hunny. Let me make it up to you.” He breathed, holding up your thigh so he could fuck you properly. He slammed into you, his tip hit your cervix. Your entire body jerked forward.

You screamed as he continued that insistent pace, the loud sound of your thighs slapping together—filling the early quiet of the room.

“How’s that feel mama?”

You clutched at his forearm, leaving dents in his skin

“Amazing! That feels amazing Michael—just like that.”

He grunted in satisfaction, nibbling on your ear as he continued to delve into you. Your pride crumbled with each thrust of your hips—you were so dizzy with lust. You were so occupied with the sensation of his cock pumping in and out of you. You had no control of the sounds that fled your lips.

“Yeah? You like that mama?” You gripped the sheets, groaning filthily as thrusted into your gummy walls.

“This what you needed?” You quivered around him, your entire body began to tremble. He reached down, using his thumb to rub at your nub as continued to pump in and out of you. “This what she needed?”

“Yes.” You whimpered pathetically. “N’ It— it feels so good.”

“Yes it does mama. Been thinking about this all night. All night.”

You felt a burning hot coil deep within you—so tight it was almost painful. Your entire body shook so hard it scared you. You craned your neck so you could look into his eyes. Searching for that comfort and reassurance. He pressed a kiss to the corner of your lips.

“Go on. I got you.”

That was all you needed, Your head snapped back, your mouth falling open as your orgasm barreled through you. Your walls constricted around his cock over and over again. Your pussy was like a suction, milking him, pulling his twoards his own orgasm.

“Oh god mama. You feel s’ good.” His cock throbbed and twitched inside your heat—signaling that he too, was close.

He jerked backwards, hissing as if it were painful. He came as soon as he pulled out. His head snapped back as he fisted himself with a powerful intensity—shooting thick spurts of white all over your ass.

Your breaths were ragged and shallow, your eyes hooded, your pussy sore. Your eyes absentmindedly flickered to the alarm clock on the dresser,

6:19 A.M

Had it only been an hour? It felt so much longer.

He collapsed beside you with a huff, using his arm to prop up his head. His chest was heaving—glistening with sweat as he fought to regain his composure. He reached for you, pulling you close to him in hopes of curling into you and cuddling.

You pulled away, tutting your tongue.

“Aw. Don’t be like that baby.”

You were still angry with him, or at least, you pretended to be. “I’m just warm.” You huffed, not turning to face him.

“you’re too hot, you aren’t making it any better.”

He hummed, he knew exactly what you were doing. His came up to murmur in your ear. “You can stop pretending to be mad at me.” He hummed. “You aren’t fooling anyone.”

You finally flipped around so you could face him, he took your hands in his; playing with your fingers. “Is that so?”

“Mhm. ‘Specially not after you creamed all over me.”

You slapped his shoulder gently. “Michael!”

“It’s true.” He hummed, pulling you closer.

“It is, isn’t it?” You giggled, the sound falling flat against his chest.

“Yeah.” He sighed, rubbing soothing circles on your lower back. “M’ sorry for all that teasing I was doing.”

Your lay there for a moment, his touch stripping you of every inch of pride and resolve.

“Can I tell you a secret?” You hummed.

“Hmm?” His voice dragged, weighted with sleep.

“I loved it.”

“I know mama. I know you did.”

“So why’d you apologize?”

“I just wanted to hear you say it.”

You rolled your eyes, groaning.

A fit of laughter overtook the two of you, one where you rolled around, and your shoulders shook.

“I hate you.” You huffed.

“Mhm. I love you too.”

You allowed his sweet scent to soothe you and lull you back to sleep.

The curtains were drawn, the sun had just hardly begun peaking over the horizon. The sky was beautiful multitude of early morning colors that cast the room in a pink hue.

The break of dawn.𐬺

michael's being immature & childhood bsf!reader won't give into him.. he doesn't like it but it forces him to face his biggest enemy—confrontation & confession (that otw-thriller transition was the era i imagined)

something you'd soon come to realize about michael was his emotional immaturity, and that often bled into pettiness, and pettiness bled into irrational responses towards any kind of conflict. you don't think his intentions are ill, it's more of a 'i'm feeling big emotions that are too troublesome to put a name too, so i'll shut down instead.' and his way of shutting down was often times a form of cutting off access. in this case the silent treatment.

this behavior wasn't new to you, it's something he's done in the past before. to his parents, his siblings, his managers, his assistants, and eventually you. although he was typically very forgiving, some would even say patient when it came to you.

he could tolerate your mood swings or attitudes, he could cope with you irritating him now and then, often times giving you more than enough chances to redeem yourself. but, something else you'd learn about michael is his lack of accountability, his misguided judgement, and blatantly childish accusations. as the two of you aged this realization would force you to put your foot down, and become a bit more stubborn with michael, despite his silent protests. born with those fawn-like eyes of his, it was difficult not giving into him, but someone had to admit enough was enough.

it used to bother you—the silence. and it'd always be so abrupt, a stiff pocket of air resting between you two, tension rolled off him so thickly you'd think the air around him might manifest into a physical shield of literal defiance.

at the time you were somewhat emotionally depend it on him often searching for his reassurance and validation, sounds juvenile but everyone's once young and dumb. however, you're in your twenties and that simply won't do. if there's an issue, address the elephant. if not let it stomp it's way out the room.

again it was petty—his attitude. you'd gone on a date.. and hadn't consulted in him prior. along with his immaturity was his possessiveness as well.

through word of mouth, he'd find out sooner than you'd like that you'd gone out and flirt with someone other than him. michael may've developed this possessiveness though your shared childhood/teenage experiences. first kiss, first date, first crush, first time. but for whatever reason those experiences didn't affect you the same way they did him. he wasn't your boyfriend despite those moments, so you figured both of you are up for grabs! had michael been more honest about his feelings maybe things would be different. and you'd made up your mind that you weren't gonna pull teeth with him, and he hates that.

he wants to show that he disapproves, how you should apologize for not letting him know beforehand, he is your best friend after all? why didn’t you tell him?

but you knew better than anyone that he would've had a problem regardless.

now here you are, beneath a warm, buzzing kitchen light that contours the depths of his face in a annoyingly beautiful way. a relaxed, twinkly night sky rests above his california home, the faint activity of his siblings outside could be heard through the nearby kitchen window. and a pouty, crossed armed 20 something stands across from you, childishly avoiding eye contact.

you unconsciously mimic his stance, "so you're not gonna speak?"

he looks away, cause suddenly the wall decals kathrine decided to decorate the kitchen with are really interesting, he never realized how glittery they were.

"okay." you shrug. you won't beg for his attention and he knows that, but he's stubborn nonetheless. your expression was flat and disinterested in his juvenile demeanor. you notice the subtle wrinkle that forms between his brows, and his lips curl into an even deeper pout. he doesn't know whether to sulk or play mad.

he watches you from the corner of his eye head towards the cracked back door, making your way too the backyard where the rest of his siblings reside. what you don't see is his dissatisfied frown staring at the back of your head when you slip your way through the door.

he wants you to give in so bad, wants you to rush over and plead for his attention, explain yourself and beg for forgiveness. overtime he's gotten so used to people desperately wanting a spot in his life, he's gotten used to others fighting for a spot in his line of attention. however, his tactics didn't work on you. in your eyes he wasn't larger than life, you just see him as michael.

if he wants to stomp around and mope then so be it.

he’d be a fool to deny the sour tinge of uninvited jealousy that sits at the pit of his stomach when he watches you seamlessly fall into a conversation with one of his relatives. he knows that willingly isolating himself, for the sake of holding a grudge is doing more emotional damage to him than it is you. watching you dismiss him and then swiftly fraternize outside with tito and la toya does nothing but make him feel worse. silly and embarrassed—and he should!

he just couldn’t wrap his mind around it. you don’t care who he goes out with, who he takes as a date to his long list of events and award shows, or even who he flirts with! i mean he’s purposefully flirted with other women directly in front of you, and you’d have the nerve to encourage him to ask said woman out on a date. or worse—compliment the woman yourself. your genuine security didn’t seem to click in his mind.

and in his failed attempt at triggering you he soon comes to terms that he’s upsetting himself more and looking for reassurance in you. reassurance that he’s you’re best friend, that he’s your favorite, that he comes first in your life.

your emotional distance feels like venomous rejection to him, at least that's how he's taking it. is it based in truth.. no. you're vulnerable and honest with michael, but you also know when to detach and give him the well needed space you deemed necessary. he needs to learn to come to terms on how he feels and express them.

but from you're current point of view, he's glaring holes through your skin with an unsettled weight in his chest. he doesn't know whether to stay inside and drown in his own self-pity for face the terror of vulnerability.

however it seems as though his body made a decision before his emotions could. before he knows it his legs are carrying him through the kitchen, and towards the same backdoor. traveling across the yard with laser-focus on his loafers, assuming if he hadn’t made eye contact just yet he wouldn't stop himself.

he must've been the topic of discussion, he could hear tito mumble, "here he come." with both you and la toya responding with a shared airy giggle.

you kick your chin up, a expecting grin stretched across your lips. you knew it'd only be a matter of time before he broke his own promise of staying grumpy.

the edges of his tone were achy and fragile, "can i speak to you?" the words fell off his tongue shaky, insensitively you wanted to laugh. you recognize situations like these are hard for him—being confrontational n' all. but this is his own doing, and his pitiful, hunched over stance, and his broken tone is a bit melodramatic.

you don't immediately respond, standing up with a hand gesture that suggests the two of you separate from the group and return back inside.

you patiently stroll behind him, shoes creaking against the floorboards with each step as the two of you inch closer to his bedroom.

the air circulating his room feels fresh and cooling, his curtains faintly ripple along the breeze that trailed through his cracked window. his room wasn't as cluttered as usual, it generally felt more open tonight. however, to him, he felt as if he was being locked away in a closet big enough for an eight year old; cause that's how he felt.

he felt small.

while this might not have been a big deal to you, expressing himself emotionally outside of music, let alone face to face was a challenge for him. it didn't matter the situation.

but damn he wish y'all were talking on the phone, or he was writing you a letter. he feels as though he could do this much better that way.

but he trusts you.

he watches you shuffle across his room, the springs in his mattress creaking beneath your weight. your hands rest patiently in your lap, twisting your matching diamond bracelet around your wrist. it’s a gift you received from michael in your late teens, and the two of you are known for practically never taking them off.

the thud in michael’s ribs are loud and startling, he hadn’t even realized how anxious he was until he looked at you. the guilt of ignoring you and the anxiety of laying himself bare emotionally was truly eating at him. you could see it in his face, and although you do want him to face this head on—you flash him the same gentle smile from earlier, patting at the freshly washed linen that stretched across his bed.

“sit next to me.” to him your voice almost slows the room down, your tone so velvety and inviting.

when he makes his way over to you, he clutches his large hands around your own, this time your palms resting in his lap. you raise your brows expectantly, and you take notice to the way his adam’s apple bobs with nerves.

“i’m—” he breaks eye contact, now staring at your held hands in his lap, “i didn’t mean to ignore you earlier. i was upset.”

“you did mean to ignore me, michael.” there wasn’t any attitude to your tone either, nothing for him to pick at so he could desperately change the subject. you just simply pointed out a fact.

a large huff escapes from his nose, more irritated with himself more than anything. “you’re right—i’m sorry.”

large palms cup the sides of your face as he plants delicate kisses to both cheeks, he can feel you grinning without completely seeing it.

your head falls to the side with a smuggish grin, “now was that hard?”

he’s eyeing you through his lashes, “sort’ve.” he stares at your necklace. “why didn’t you tell me you had a date?”

“i wasn’t aware i needed your permission.”

“you don’t”

he flinches at the sudden placement of your hand on his chin, “then why does it bother you so much?”

his lips part, and you can see him stop himself, pressing his mouth into a straight line. your expression softens.

“i dunno..” the edges of his sentence trail off into a sigh, he knows exactly why it bothers him so. it’s almost as if his throat latches around his confession in a way to hold him back, although it’s all mental.

“i don’t ignore you when you go out on dates.” you point out.

“it’s different.”

“how so?”

his eye contact falls again, “i don’t like those dates.” had the breeze coming in from outside had been any louder, you would’ve missed his response. his voice hardly touched a whisper.

you dip your head closer to his, gently forcing him to keep his eyes on you. “you mean like like?”

your search for clarification results in a lighthearted smirk, “yes, like like.”

“then who do you like?”

he swallows again. it’s like you’ve got him trapped in a corner.

without warning he quickly reaches behind you, grabbing at a teddy plush. he raises it in front of his face, using the lifeless doll as a shield. you’re met with the distorted reflection of yourself through the roundness of the bears eyes.

you huff an airy giggle, reaching out for his knee with amusement. man is he dramatic.

“michael.”

“you already know that i like you. so why do you pretend you don’t.”

indirect—per usual.

“you never said anything—” you reach around his hands still holding onto the bear, slowly pulling it down to reveal his now reddened face. “it’s rude to make assumptions.”

“well it’s true.”

“that you like me?” you tilt your head with faux confusion.

pairing: thriller!michael jackson x black fem!reader

wc: 2,3k+

summary: All it took was you leaving for Michael to realize nobody could compare to you.

warning: 18+ MINORS DNI, smut, cussing, biting, dirty talk, 69, spit, unprotected p in v, hickies, tummy bulge, praise, established relationship, pet names (daddy, mama, tink, etc), no use of y/n

disclaimer: ive had terrible writers block for the last few days yall. someone pls save me! 💚 proofread but im human so mistakes happen. fuck ai. i don’t know that bitch.

dividers by @pixopix

ᝰ.ᐟ SUPER FREAK!

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: thrill the wall!michael jackson x f!reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: you’re a super freak—but you’re alright with global popstar michael jackson (inspired by ‘super freak’ by rick james)

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: smut, 18+, (p-in-v), use of (name) once, smut and implied sex, creampie, facial, unprotected sex, cunnilingus, semi-public sex (hand-job), mentions of sex toy’s and kinks, multiple orgasms, sex-crazed reader, freaky reader, groupie esc but not rlly, clubbing, drinking, cursing, smoking (all reader) drug usage (not reader), katherine hates us LOL, down bad mike. mentions of religion/repenting but doesn’t go very well, your friends are as wild as reader, yeah this is uhh this is smth. enjoy!

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: this is obviously inspired by ‘super freak’ by rick james, which has been one of my favourite songs since i was a young teen and instantly thought of michael and the jackson’s when i re-listened to it the other day. this is pretty wild so enjoy!! this a long fic but idk how to find out my word count but strap in LMFAO

She’s a very kinky girl…

Michael wasn’t sure exactly sure how he got here—Tucked into a V.I.P booth at Studio 54, an array of sickly sweet alcoholic beverages sprawled out across a wooden, circular table, music blasting in his ears, and a young lady with minimal clothing on, perched on his lap.

To say he was uncomfortable would be a lie. To the untrained eye—Michael Jackson, the famously shy, timid and gentle man, looked tense and awkward with such a woman atop of him, whispering in his ear, twirling a stray curl at the nape of his neck around her index finger, and skirt hiked up so high her panties were visible to anyone walking by. But, in reality, he was trying his hardest to not let his natural, masculine urges fulfil themselves beneath his black slacks, threatening to get uncomfortably tight.

ℴfw!b𝓈f!michael drabble ♡ want more?

“mikey… i have news!” you exclaimed, absentmindedly twisting the phone cord around your finger. he sighed from the other end. “what now, pretty girl?”the nickname rolled off his tongue as effortlessly as it always did, and it never failed to stir something inside you.

“i’m going on vacation!” your excitement practically echoed through the phone, earning a soft laugh from him. “so… you finally got those tickets?” you bit your lip, remembering the countless times you’d complained about not being able to find tickets to spain.

“well… no. my friend got them.” you paused. “the one that likes me?” you could hear the slow breath he let out through the receiver.

“what?” he finally asked, his voice noticeably quieter. “seriously?” “yeah. i’m literally packing right now.” “…right.”

the single word came out almost like a whisper before the call ended, leaving only the dull hum of the disconnected line.

you frowned at the phone before setting it down and returning to your suitcase, slowly filling it with the last of your clothes. later, a sudden knock at the door was followed by a familiar voice. “❤︎!”

your hands were busy tying the strings of your bikini top, so you quickly slipped on a pair of shorts before rushing downstairs. “michael?” you opened the door to find your best friend standing there, looking strangely flustered.

his eyes met yours.his adam’s apple bobbed as he took in the sight of you standing in the doorway. “h-hi,” he stammered.

“is this why you ended the call?” you smiled, taking his hand and pulling him inside before leading him upstairs. his wide, bambi-like eyes followed you helplessly the entire way.

the second he stepped into your bedroom, he let out the tiniest gasp. the room was completely upside down. clothes covered every surface, bikinis and dresses spilling from drawers while an open suitcase sat abandoned on the bed.

“i’m assuming you’re here to help me?” you laughed. “because i’m in desperate need.” without thinking much of it, you slipped your shorts back off, leaving yourself in the bikini as you searched through the mess for a shirt.

michael immediately covered his face, you couldn’t help giggling. “you’ve seen me like this plenty of times, mikey.” “don’t be shy.” he only shook his head, hands still firmly covering his eyes.

grinning, you finally pulled a shirt over your head. “better?” he slowly lowered his hands into his lap before giving you a small nod, your heart fluttered. he was far too cute.

you returned to folding clothes, quietly humming to yourself as the room settled into a comfortable silence. “do you really have to go?” his voice was barely above a whisper. “with him, i mean.”

he hesitated. “is it just you two?” “of course not.” you smiled. “a bunch of our friends are coming too.”seeing the relief wash over his face made you smile even wider.

“he’s just a friend.” your mind drifted back to the countless times michael insisted that your friend had bad intentions. you’d even argued over it once, ending with him calling your landline over and over until you finally picked up so he could apologize.

his shoulders relaxed ever so slightly, fingers tapping nervously against his knees .he wanted to believe you, he really did but the weight in his chest refused to ease.

all he wanted was for you to stay, he hated being away from you. “okay…” he murmured. “how long will you be gone?” he lowered himself beside your suitcase, taking in the explosion of bright dresses, bikinis, and summer clothes scattered across the room.

before he could stop himself, his imagination betrayed him. he pictured your friend with his arm around your waist… watching you laugh… watching you wear those tiny scraps of fabric you insisted on calling swimsuits.

the thought alone made his stomach twist.

“just a week, mikey.” you smiled. “but you know i’m gonna miss you.” a shy smile tugged at his lips. “i’ll take loads of pictures for you.” you gently nudged his shoulder while he reached over and zipped your suitcase shut.

“hmm,” he hummed, resting his head against your bare thigh almost absentmindedly. you smiled to yourself, your fingers instinctively slipping into his curls.

“i leave tomorrow,” you whispered. he closed his eyes. “then… let’s just stay like this.” “sure, mikey.”

neverstreett production

warnings ༉ otw!mike, smut (minor dni), teasing, dry humping, oral (f! receiving), fluff ofc, brief jealousy mention, choking(?) one mention, just a line literally, jerking off with your panties, so basically pervy!michael? maybe, use of “mama” and “baby” (baby used once), slightly proofread

a/n: my first blurb? i really don’t know what to call this but first in the account since i’ve rebranded! so please do enjoy.

boyfriend!michael finding your face at the side of the stage, your eyes watching closely. though he tried to shift his focus some place else like his brothers or the way the music flowed through his body, he nonetheless failed as he watched your face shine from the stage lights, your eyes blown and a large smile stretched across your face.

after the show had ended you were waiting for him back stage, your arms folded against your chest and the same smile he once saw in the crowd, presented before his very own being. "hi baby." you whispered in his ear as grabbed his face for a kiss, turning his to place it on his cheek.

his brothers passed by, giving you a small "hey" or a rub on the shoulder before continuing conversation with one another, laughs falling behind the loud music in the stadium.

a soft laugh landed against the shell of your ear, the cool sweat running down his body giving you goosebumps. you leaned your face back, raking your eyes over his face "how did i do? did you like the show?" he spoke. you nodded, running a hand slowly down the middle of his chest "c'mon lets catch up with the rest and get changed." he nodded, following like a lost dog behind you.

boyfriend!michael who’s eyes you could feel glaring through the back of his brothers skull as he watched the way their hands would glide to close to the waist band of your skirt when passing by.

watching as jackie had made a not so subtle gesture from your eyes to your lips as you spoke of god knows what. the heat pooling in his stomach as his brothers teased him about his girl getting taken by his smooth older brother.

that night michael had hardly said a few words. nothing past the point of “m’okay” or “nothing, it’s fine” when you’d asked what’s wrong while changing into one of his mickey shirts before bed. wondering what had happened between the moments of his silent treatment and the shirt later becoming discarded as his lips ran down your skin, his words hardly coming past your ears as he mumbled against your skin, “you know you’re mine right?” his lips pressed against your hip, “no one but me, you’re all mine” his tender kisses following up between your breast.

you’d mutter something incoherent your body lost to the sensation of his lips on your skin, when he came to a sudden halt, his mouth leaving your collarbones. Your breath heavy, you opened your eyes looking up “what? why-why’d you stop mikey?” the nickname jolted straight to his dick. his hand came to rest against your throat, his grip not too tight but just enough to ground himself.

his stare became taunting, the bareness of your body becoming more apparent as the coolness from the room ran over your skin. you could feel wet spots from his lips leaving their cold spots beginning to dry, “mikey?” you tried again. instead of replying, michael leaned down his lips grazing your jaw trailing up to your ear. the contact tickled the shell of your ear as he spoke “you know no one else can have you, right?” his breath made you shudder. his voice had dropped, something defensive lacing his words

as he waited for you response, his lips began to inch lower and lower past your abdomen, his hand coming to your thighs slowly spreading them apart.

you took a deep breath, feeling his lips pressing on the inside of your thighs. the slick at your core grew heavier. it had been moments since you felt the press of him on you, you pushed yourself up against your elbows, your eyes trailing between your legs confused.

michael eyes were already watching you, a snarky smile pressed against his lips before he slowly glided his younger from your core to your clit, rolling the hard bud between his lips. the moan you’d let out was terribly loud and terribly concealed. the thought of having to face to teasing of his brothers made your cheeks brighten though, knowing future you would have to handle the embarrassment seemed more the reason to focus on the way michael tongue had been entering you restlessly.

boyfriend!michael burying his face in the crook of your neck as your pussy grounds against his ache just right. you were in his bedroom, accompanying him for the night as it had been weeks since you’d seen him since touring with his brothers. he was propped against his head board, his grip on your hips tightening.

your skirt had ridden up, his eyes watched the evident wet spot in your panties trailing down to the soaked spot on his pants. he’d come home, shortly after greeting his family and heading straight to his room not expecting the sight of you laying on your stomach, the expanse of your smooth thighs such a sight to see after a week of jerking himself off with a pair of your panties you had “accidentally” forgotten one night.

it was the only thing to keep him sane during the tour, though he had thousands of fan girls pulling on him every night wishing to just get a piece of him, the only thing on his mind after arriving to the hotel was rushing to the bathroom late at night with his fist in his mouth to keep his whines from falling from his mouth as he wrapped your pink lacy panties around his hard aching dick, stroking slowly.

he dropped his bags by the door, closing it shut and switching it locked before moving towards the bed. you welcomed him with open arms, “surprise mikey!” his face coming to rest against your chest as you sat up. your hands ran through his hair, one leaving to trail down his back, rubbing small circles. “i missed you michael, i missed you a lot” you whispered, a smile stretching on your lips. michael sat up, his eyes meeting yours as he leaned down brushing your lips together, “ i missed you too mama, so so much.” he whispered before diving in.

one thing had led to another, your lips following each other and he settled himself against his head board, his hands falling to your hips guiding you to his lap. The pressure was immediate, you felt him twitch beneath his pants. “michael..” you whispered once more. the sound of your soft voice pooled straight to his stomach, the heat around his pants tightening. “c’mere girl.” a small breath left your lips as he attacked your neck, sucking the sensitive spots close to your collarbones and just beneath your ear.

“oh mikey- you feel so good.” your right hand came to steady you as you rested it a top of his shoulder, the other wrinkling his shirt in your grip. michael nodded, his gasps becoming louder “yeah just like that, keep doing that f’me please.” his voice alone began the tightness in your lower abdomen, you adjusted yourself. hoisting your hips from his for a few seconds before fixing your angle, you ground down once more the new angle making you see stars “oh fuck!- yeah that’s it right there-god!”michael whined against your chest.

everything had felt just right, the pressure against your clit had made you see flurries in your vision and michael grip tightening against your hips only grounded you minute by minute. the wet spot in your panties had grown as the pace of your hips increased, michael’s breath hit against your neck before dropping his head on your shoulder. “fuck- so good, so so good mama” a small whimper fell from his lips. the sound only edged you on more, increasing your pace hopping to hear those pretty little sounds fall from his mouth once more.

both of your breaths falling faster as the pressure in your abdomen became almost unbearable, “mikey- mikey, i think i’m gonna- oh god” you whispered as you dropped your head making your foreheads meet. your grip on his shirt shifted upwards clasping down on his other shoulder. michael nodded, “yeah me too, i can-mmgh, i can feel it” the air between you began to collide with one other, the warm air between the two moving bodies becoming one.

his hips jolted against you uncontrollably, letting himself down from his high,

hard groans left his lips, his jaw becoming slack before his hands came limp at your sides. you looked back at him the sweat coating his forehead and his wrinkled shirt making you rub against his jeans softly. after a few moments, your rubbing had stopped and your breathes had come back to normal “that was good baby,” he spoke as his large hands gave you a soft pat on your back.

you nodded your head a breathy laugh escaping your lips “yeah real good mikey” you landed forward wrapping your arms around his neck, dropping your head to rest against his shoulder. your breathing came to rest normally shortly after a laugh following

Michael jackson x nanny fem¡ reader

précis: You are Michael's nanny and he's careful to not over step any major boundaries despite his attraction to you. Until one day he hears moans coming from your room at night.

warnings: mutual masturbation, cheating ish, guided fingering, air play?, a little oversensitvity, uhh cum obsession.... and so onnn...

The california heat of the summer of 99' was working over time. And the two little babies that were rubbing onto your skin all day didn't make it any better.

You loved them to death, but the amount of heat they radiated should be considered a crime.

So naturally at the end of a long day of playing in the sun and chasing after the kids during bedtime, lying in bed with just your underwear on and nothing else was a must.

The cold air of your room mustered an involuntary reaction from your body. The two peaks on your chest hardened with every passing second, causing the coloured skin around it to shrivel up.

Your hand automatically went up to massage them and get them warmed up. But the minute your soft fingers met with the hardened mounds, electricity shot up your spine.

Your eyes shot open at the feeling.

You couldn't remember the last time you did something for yourself, because taking care of a forty one year old man and his two kids left little to no room for self....entertainment.

You didn't mind. The three of them made good company, especially Michael....

No one could deny the palpable tension between the two of you. Even the tabloids have made it out to seem like you were his possible "side thing" and "mistress"

He would make it a point to have you near him at all times, his children present or not. He thrived on your youthful energy, and your positive spin on stressfull situations.

He was absolutely smitten with you, and he couldn't do anything about it. Not while hes your boss.... or "married".

But still, that wasnt enough of a reason for him to not flirt with you or lightly touch you, and with the way you moved your body it was damn near impossible not to.

So whenever he would catch you bent over, cleaning up toys or whatever clutter littered on the floor, he would "accidentally" bump into your ass just so he could relieve some of the tension in his lower region before locking himself away to finish off.

He also loved wrapping his hand around your neck to move your line of vision to where he wanted. Your complying nature and the feeling of your flimsy head really had him riled him up.

And he would always choose to stand behind you any chance he got, hoping that his body heat would have you melting for him.

The funny thing was, you felt the exact same way.

The whole bending over in that exaggerated way, was just a way for you to show off your ass and give him a little preview of what he could have.

And you would always make sure to close your eyes whenever he'd "casually" guide your neck to redirect you stare at something useless, trying to keep the feeling of his long fingers wrapped around you engraved into your memory.

you sighed out and trailed your fingers down your body, reminiscing about the way the outline of his cock felt against you from all those refined spaces the two of you had been in, purposefully grinding onto each other. you absentmindedly formed a fist to replicate the feeling, pressing your knuckles onto your clothed cunt.

you bit your lip when you thrusted your hips upwards, trying to muffle the sounds coming out of you, but your imagination wasnt helping at all.

The image of Michael towering over your body, rubbing his cock up and down your slick folds had you writhing in your bed, huffing and twisting.

Down the hallway, Michael was making his way to his room after finishing up his studio session. The space where he would rest at night, was exactly two doors away from yours.

Just as he was about to walk past your room, his legs stopped working. Fabric rustling could be heard through the wood of your door, He didn't think much of it first.

until...

"Mmmh fuck-"

his eyes snapped to the little sliver of light from the slightly open door, his body gravitating towards it.

he already knew what he was going to see, and his pants tightned in anticipation. His eye went to the gap and he almost came right then and there.

there you were in all your glory, your back was arched into a beautiful oval and your tits were both out, slightly falling to the sides. he pursed his lips and bit his tongue, wishing he could have your nipples in between his teeth instead.

He pressed a hand to the growing bulge, and sighed out in satisfaction.

he felt a little weird standing outside your door and palming himself, without you knowing. but the worry was quickly wiped when your lips parted, whining out a weak "fuc- Michae-".

His hands paused and his eyes darted to the tiny gap. It was like he was possessed... his hands pushed the door, widening the little crack just enough so he could sneak himself in.

You were none the wiser.

Your feet were planted onto the mattress and your fingers were disappearing in and out of your tight hole.

You were pulled out of the state of ecstasy that you were in when you felt the bed dip, right in the space between your two bent legs.

what really got you to open you eyes was the warm breath you felt on your aching heat. You opened your eyes and were met by the sight of Michael's body laying there, his eyes completely focused on the fingers you had stuffed inside.

You let out a shaky breath at his intimidating stare. "Micha-" you started sliding your fingers out.

He grabbed your wrist and used it to push your fingers back inside. "Nu uh, keep goin I wanna see how well you stretch "

You let out a moan when you felt your fingers get shoved back in waay deeper than before.

"Mike its... this is not righ- your wif-" you sighed out at the feeling of him guiding your hand to the speed he saw fit.

"Im not touching you though, so whats the harm" he smiled lazily.

You groaned even louder at that, your fingers squelching everytime they reentered your wet walls.

Michael was shifting his hips against the matress, trying to to get rid of the ache of his throbbing member.

"Screw this.." he sighed out in frustration. He let go of your arm and sat in between your spread legs and pulled down his cotton pants.

You were expecting another of layer of fabric underneath, but instead his length sprung out and slapped the inside of your thigh.

Your walls clenched around your digits at the sight of him.

Michael put his hand out to catch some of the cream dripping out of your hole and brought his hand the base of his cock and started stroking himself.

He let out a whimper when he saw how tight your fingers were being squeezed. "Mmh wish it was me instead"

"Oh fu- fuck fuck" you babbled mindlessly, your hand going down to grasp at his thigh, feeling them go rigid.

Just a little closer....

Just a little closer and the head of his length would be touching you where you wanted him most, sealing the antagonising space between the two of you.

It was all too much. Your body was spasming nd shaking uncontrollably.

Michael noticed this and brought himself to his own climax, the skin of his member bunched up and covered his tip slightly, before spurts of cum covered his moving fingers.

He moved to angle it towards your oversensitve sex to cover you in his seed, but decided against it and painted the already wet fabric underneath you instead, joining the two of your releases in a way.

He immediately went down and brought his mouth to the soaked spot to taste your mixture.

You were so fucked out, that you barely noticed his nose grazing your numb folds.

You pushed at his shoulders to try and get him off, before you would make a other mess but on his face this time.

He reluctantly got up and wiped his mouth.

You closed your eyes and fell back against the pillows.

What the fuck.

tag list:

@ilovekate @khxna

A/N: ehehe I've read soo many nanny×Michael fics, thought id give it a go.

Alsoooo I'm not too happy with the pacing but its alrighttt. Smut is smut.

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲. ever wonder how different the jacksons would be if they were country? read more to find out!

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠(𝐬). cowboy! michael x pregnant wife! reader

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭. slice of life, fluff, pregnancy (obviously), non-famous au

The screen door of the back porch always had a distinct, lazy creak to it—one that Michael swore he’d fix every Saturday for the past three summers, right alongside the loose floorboard by the icebox, but never quite got around to. Honestly, you didn’t mind it. That little squeak was the soundtrack to your life out here on the Jackson family compound, a sprawling stretch of green pasture, white railed fences, and ancient weeping willows tucked deep away in the heart of the country. It meant he was home. It meant safety.

You wiped your flour dusted hands on your gingham apron, turning away from the wooden kitchen counter just as heavy, worn in leather boots stepped across the threshold. Michael walked in with his straw cowboy hat tipped back, a smudge of dark, rich soil smeared across his high cheekbone, and that wide, heart melting smile that still made your chest flutter like you were sixteen years old and sneaking out to the county fair.

"Mmm, Lord have mercy, what is that heavenly smell?" he drawled, his voice rich and velvety with just enough of that deep country sugar wrapped around every syllable. He tossed his leather work gloves onto the side table with a soft thud and closed the distance between you in three long, deliberate strides.

Before you could even draw a breath to answer, his large, calloused cowboy hands—hands that could effortlessly wrestle a stubborn stallion or gently cradle a newborn calf—settled with absolute reverence right over the curve of your belly. He let out a long, contented sigh, his broad shoulders dropping as he pressed his forehead softly against yours.

"How's my two favorite girls doin' today?" he murmured, his thumb tracing a slow, hypnotic circle against the cotton fabric of your dress. "Mama called the landline about an hour ago, sugar. Said if I didn't drag you down to the Sunday cookout tonight, she's gonna hitch up the truck herself and drive out here to check on us. You know how she gets."

You giggled, the sound light and airy, resting your hands against his broad chest, feeling the sturdy, dependable strength of him—all solid muscle, sun-warmed cotton, and endless comfort. "Tell her we wouldn't miss it for the world, Michael. But only if Randy promises to leave that beat up guitar alone long enough for us to actually eat a plate of that potato salad without a serenade."

Michael chuckled, a deep, rumbling vibration that rumbled right through his chest and into your palms. He pressed one slow, lingering kiss right to the tip of your nose, tasting faintly of black coffee and fresh morning air. "Now, you know Randy can't go an hour without showin' off his minor chords. But I'll tell him to hush if he knows what's good for him. You just worry about keepin' that sweet self of yours rested."

"Rested," you echoed with a playful, teasing arch of your brow, stepping back just enough to look up at him through your lashes. "Michael, I've slept twelve hours, taken three different naps on the porch swing, and watched the blue jays migrate twice today. If I rest any more, I’m gonna turn into a boulder."

"Ain't nothing wrong with bein' a rock, darlin'," he shot back instantly, deadpan, his dark eyes sparkling with that teasing mischief you loved so much. "Especially when you're growin' a whole human being inside you. Speaking of... what are you up to at this ungodly hour of the afternoon?" He peered past your shoulder at the kitchen counter, where a bowl of sliced green mangoes sat beside a heavy jar of pickled jalapeños and a small shaker of red chili flakes.

Michael’s nose crinkled instantly, his expression shifting from pure adoration to mild, loving bewilderment. "Jesus, baby. Are you gonna eat those? That ain't even natural. I swear, you've got the tastebuds of a wild raccoon since you got pregnant."

"Hey!" You swatted playfully at his arm, though you couldn't stop the grin from spreading across your face. "Don't you go judgin' my cravings, mister. Your daughter—or son, we don't know yet—has very specific demands. And right now, those demands require maximum acidity and enough spice to clear out the entire state of Georgia."

"Well, if it makes my sweet belle happy, you can chew on the whole garden," Michael murmured softly, his tone shifting back into that honeyed southern warmth as he wrapped his arms around you again, pulling you flush against his frame. He lowered his head, pressing slow, lazy kisses down the column of your neck, making you shiver despite the heavy summer heat pressing in through the open kitchen windows. "Just... let your big ol' cowboy husband open that jar for you so you don't hurt your finger. Please? For me?"

Living on the Jackson family compound meant that privacy was a relative term, but nobody ever really complained about it. The sprawling land had been divided up generations ago, meaning Jackie, Tito, Jermaine, Marlon, and Randy all had their own homesteads scattered across the rolling hills and dense pine thickets, all connected by a web of dusty horseback trails and dirt roads. Most days, nobody even bothered starting up a motor vehicle unless they were heading all the way into town for feed or flour. You’d regularly look out the front window and see Marlon trotting past on his horse, tipping his hat in greeting, or hear the faint strum of a guitar drifting over the tree line from Tito's back porch some evenings.

By mid afternoon, the sun was baking the countryside in a thick, golden haze, turning the air lazy and heavy with the hum of cicadas. You had migrated out to the wide, wraparound front porch, sinking deep into the cushioned wooden rocking chair with a tall, sweating mason jar of sweet tea loaded with mint leaves.

Michael was out by the stables, helping his Jackie with a particularly high strung gelding, but you could still keep an eye on him through the screen if you leaned just right. He looked like something straight out of a glossy magazine spread—all lean lines, dusty denim, and quiet confidence.

Before you could even take a sip of your tea, the familiar rhythmic thud of hooves sounded up the long gravel driveway. You shaded your eyes against the glare, a smile breaking across your face as Rebbie and La Toya rode up, tethering their horses to the hitching post by the front steps before hiking up their long denim skirts and making a beeline for the porch.

"Well, look at the prettiest picture in all the county," Rebbie called out warmly, climbing the steps with a wide, radiant smile and leaning down to press a soft, fragrant kiss to your cheek. "How you feeling, sweetheart? Michael hasn't worked you to death around here, has he? I swear, I saw him run past my home earlier looking like he was ready to put you in a glass case."

"He practically wants to," you laughed, pulling La Toya into a hug next. "I tried to pick a single dandelion out by the flowerbed this morning, and you would've thought I was trying to hoist a fifty pound feed sack."

La Toya laughed, a rich, musical sound, as she dropped a heavy canvas tote bag right onto the porch table. "Oh, lord, that sounds just like him. They all get that stubborn streak straight from Daddy, but Michael takes it to a whole 'nother level when it comes to you. Speaking of... we brought loot."

"Loot?" your eyes lit up.

"Oh yes," Rebbie said, unzipping the tote. "We were up in the attic cleaning out some of the old cedar chests this week, and we found the little hand stitched baby quilts Mama made back when the boys were little, plus some little denim overalls and cute bonnets. We figured you and Michael could use them way more than the moths could. Besides, you know how Mama is—she expects every single one of her grandbabies wrapped in family tradition from day one."

As if summoned by the mere mention of her name, another set of hoofbeats crunched down the drive. This time, it was Janet, riding bareback on a sleek black mare with a wide brimmed straw hat pulled low over her curls, her boots dangling effortlessly against the horse's flank. She slid off with easy grace, leading the horse toward the trough before jogging up the steps two at a time, holding a brown paper bakery box.

"Don't tell me y'all are already talking about the baby clothes without me," Janet announced, tossing her hat onto the porch rail and collapsing into the rocking chair beside you with an dramatic sigh. "Hey, gorgeous. How’s the most pampered pregnant woman in the tri-state area?"

"I'm surviving, thanks to an endless supply of sweet tea and aggressive overprotection," you beamed, opening the bakery box Janet slid across the table. Inside were warm, sugary peach turnovers straight from the bakery down in town. Your sweet southern belle exterior melted instantly into pure, unadulterated joy. "Oh, Janet, you're an angel sent straight from heaven. Do you know what these babies do to a woman?"

"Oh, I know everything," Janet laughed, leaning back and fanning herself with a magazine. "And speaking of Michael... look out yonder. Here comes your shadow."

You turned your head. Sure enough, Michael was walking up from the stables, having shed his heavy work shirt to reveal a fitted white undersweater that clung to his broad chest and sun kissed shoulders. He was wiping his brow with a bandana, his cowboy hat dangling from his hand, his dark eyes locked entirely on you the second he stepped onto the porch.

The sisters all exchanged knowing, affectionate grins.

"Well, look at the man," La Toya teased softly, leaning over to whisper to you. "Look at him walking like a proud rooster. You can't even blink without him checkin' your pulse."

Michael mounted the steps, his gaze sweeping over his sisters with a warm, welcoming smile before instantly zeroing back in on you. He walked right up to your rocking chair, ignoring the collective snickering of his sisters, and dropped down right onto one knee on the worn wooden planks.

Without a word, his large, warm palm slid protectively over your stomach, resting right against the bump beneath your sundress. He let out a long, heavy sigh of relief, leaning his forehead gently against your knee.

"Hey, darlin'," he murmured softly, his voice thick with that deep, rolling southern drawl. "You been sittin' out here in this heat too long? Do you need me to carry you inside? I can carry you inside like right now."

"Michael, I am sitting in the shade, on a breeze-y porch, surrounded by my sisters, eating a peach turnover," you laughed, resting your fingers gently in his dark, damp curls, carding your fingers through the soft strands. "I'm okay. I promise you."

"Mmm-hmmm," Janet chimed in from the side, crossing her arms with an amused smirk. "We just dropped off some of Mama's old stuff and some tiny overalls for the baby. But good luck getting Michael to let the kid wear anything that hasn't been individually inspected and approved by the Department of Overprotective Fathers."

Michael shot his sister a dry, sideways look, though he couldn't hide the sheepish grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. He didn't move his hand an inch from your stomach. "Hush up, Janet. A man's supposed to take care of his family. And these little overalls are gonna look mighty cute on a little boy or girl running around these pastures."

"A boy who's gonna be put in a bubble wrap suit," Rebbie muttered under her breath, earning a round of quiet laughter from the girls.

Michael just shook his head, looking back up at you with those deep, expressive eyes filled with so much unfiltered love it made your heart ache. He pressed a long, reverent kiss right to the back of your hand, lingering there. "Don't you listen to 'em, sugar. They're just jealous 'cause I treat you like the queen you are."

By late afternoon, the sun had dipped lower, casting long, amber shadows across the countryside and turning the air a glorious shade of dusty gold. The heat of the day had finally broken just enough to leave behind a warm, humid breeze that carried the scent of pine needles, sweet honeysuckle, and damp earth.

"Come on," Michael murmured quietly, standing up from his kneeling position and offering you his large, calloused hand. He helped you gracefully out of the rocking chair, his arm immediately wrapping securely around your waist. "Before Mama starts blowing up the landline again about us being late for Sunday dinner, I want to show you something down by the lake."

"The lake?" you raised an eyebrow, letting him guide you down the front steps and across the soft, cool grass. "Honey, we're going to see the whole family in an hour. What's down at the lake?"

"Just a little surprise," he smiled, his teeth flashing bright against his tanned skin. "You've been working hard being pregnant all day, and I figured we needed a quiet minute just to ourselves before the whole family circus descends on us."

The walk down to the private lake on the property was short, winding through a narrow path shaded by ancient oak trees draped in Spanish moss. As you cleared the tree line, the water opened up before you like a sheet of hammered glass, perfectly reflecting the fiery pinks and oranges of the descending sun. A small wooden dock stretched out over the glassy surface, surrounded by tall cattails and the gentle rustle of evening reeds.

Michael led you out onto the weathered wooden planks of the dock. The air down here was noticeably cooler, smelling of fresh water and sweet summer mud.

You looked over at him, noticing that he had already kicked off his boots and stripped down to a simple pair of swim trunks under his jeans. He reached down, pulling his shirt off completely and tossing it onto the dock, revealing a physique carved from years of hard farm labor—broad shoulders, lean muscle, and sun kissed brown skin.

"Michael Joseph Jackson," you laughed, crossing your arms over your sundress as a breeze ruffled your hair. "What are you up to?"

He grinned, already backing slowly off the edge of the dock and wading out into the cool, clear water until it reached his waist. He let out a long, luxurious sigh of satisfaction, resting his forearms on the surface of the water and looking up at you with a soft, nervous expression.

"The water's perfect, darlin'," he called out, his voice echoing softly across the lake. "Come on down. Get out that dress and get in here with me."

You looked down at yourself, then back at him. You quickly unbuttoned your sundress, letting it drop to the wooden planks of the dock, standing there in the golden hour light with your rounded baby bump proudly on display, framed by your matching black bra and underwear.

Michael’s breath hitched. His eyes widened, locking onto you with a mixture of absolute awe and immediate, rising panic.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, wait a minute, sugar—hold on!" Michael suddenly stammered, his hands flying up out of the water in a frantic motion. He took a hasty step backward, nearly tripping over his own feet in the shallow water. "Now, hold your horses! Don't you go jumpin' off that dock! The water's deep right there, baby, you walk down the ladder slow, hear me? Please? Let me just come up there and help you—"

You couldn't help it. The sound of his frantic, overprotective southern drawl trying to issue safety instructions while he floundered in waist deep water was entirely too funny. You let out a bright, ringing laugh that echoed across the quiet lake.

"Michael, I can swim just fine!" you called out, giggling as you walked to the very edge of the wooden planks.

"Y/N, I'm serious! Don't you dare—my heart can't take it, baby, please, just use the ladder—" he pleaded, taking another desperate step closer to the dock, his hands outstretched like he was trying to catch a falling star.

"Catch me if you can, cowboy!" you laughed, and with a joyful leap, you launched yourself off the edge of the dock, soaring through the warm evening air before plunging straight into the glassy water with a massive, glorious splash.

Splash!

For a split second, total silence fell over the lake except for the ripples expanding outward in golden rings. Then, you broke the surface, slicking your wet hair back from your face, gasping slightly at the refreshing chill of the water, and laughing so hard your ribs ached.

Michael stood frozen a few feet away, water dripping from his chin, his eyes wide with a mixture of sheer shock and lingering heart palpitations.

"Lord have mercy on my soul," he breathed, shaking his head as a slow, helpless grin broke across his face. In two long strides, he waded through the water and reached you, wrapping his strong arms around your waist and hauling you firmly against his chest before you could even catch your breath.

"You are gonna give me a full blown heart attack before this baby is even born, I swear to the good Lord above," he scolded, though his voice was thick with adoration as he pressed a fierce, soaking wet kiss to your forehead, then your cheek, and finally your lips.

"You worried too much, Mr. Jackson," you teased, resting your hands against his broad, wet shoulders, floating effortlessly in his arms as he held you securely against him.

"I love you too much, you mean," he murmured softly, his large hand sliding down to rest directly over your belly beneath the water, his thumb rubbing gentle, soothing circles against your skin. He leaned his forehead against yours, closing his eyes as the sun dipped completely below the tree line, painting the sky in shades of deep violet and gold.

"Come on," he whispered, pressing one last slow, sweet kiss to your lips. "Let's get dried off and head up to Mama's before the whole family comes lookin' for us."

With the evening breeze rustling the pines and the crickets beginning their nightly chorus, Michael scooped you up into his arms, carrying you out of the water and up the dusty trail toward home, exactly where you belonged.

a/n:: all night I’ve been thinking about working for matureera!michael. you knew working with him was an honor, and my god the girls weren’t lying when they said he can be SO flirty?!

the new rental residing in miami smelt like thick cinnamon sugar from the abundance of candles burning in the living room. you were running around the kitchen prepping for dinner. ‘kfc style’ chicken with mash potatoes was requested, as the timer was thirty minutes out to being done you decided to make the table. before you started working for michael the number one thing tabloids, interviewers and magazines would say was ‘michael is gay’ or ‘michael is too timid around women!’ if only they knew how far this was from the truth!

this house was much smaller than his usual pick but it seems the idea was to have a since of normality just for the next two weeks. plus nobody would even imagine he would pick a regular sized house over a mansion. in other words nobody was considering bothering him, the kids were upstairs giggling and running around upstairs. you were placing the usual set of plates down in the dining room when you heard a larger pair of feet walking down the hardwood floor. although you heard this the only thing on your mind was your personal music, you had blasting while you were seasoning and washing chicken an hour ago.

your hips circled as you walked around placing each fork and knife down near the black velvet dinner mats. it was only until you were facing the front of the room, a pair of loafers were standing cross legged leaning against the wall. “oh my god!”, you jolted back how long was he eyeing you?! “so sorry michael you scared me!” he laughed you were so in tune with the music, you had completely ignored he was walking down to check on you.

“I liked watching you feel the music.” how could he say something like that so calmly? “no I should’ve been more focused on the table… I’m kinda embarrassed.” your right hand clammed your left palm. it was one thing to get caught dancing, but the image of you basically bumping and grinding was even more silly to be visually seen doing. he walked towards you grabbing one your hand in his, “relax.” he raised your hand towards his lips pressing a kiss at your knuckles. you gave him a soft smile a ding! went off from the oven, putting both your attention towards the kitchen. walking in front of him something told you to turn around, you saw what his eyes were landed on!

he was staring at your…body? no shame in it either! he didn’t even try to quickly look away! he glanced up at you a smirk on his lips, before he followed you into the other room. “I’ll take it out no need in burning yourself.” your brows fiddled with confusion from his statement. you do this every single day so him all of a sudden being concerned, didn’t really make much sense. the steaming glass pan of food over coated the walls, “looks beautiful I’ll go get the children-“ you gripped his arm only for a moment, “michael you need to eat something you haven’t all day.”

his face contorted for a second it was fast but you noticed. “I’ll… have a little okay?”, you nodded turning to turn off the stove.

currently you two were the last still awake. michael had tucked the kids to bed and you just finished washing all the dishes. he was busy humming some tune, as you took out a cake you baked earlier that morning off the countertop. “I haven’t cut it yet do you want some?”, he spun around to face you from across the room. “of course.”, he swiped his finger along the buttercream frosting wiping some on your cheek. this made you laugh, “michael!” his hand cupped his face to muffle the loud laughter he wanted to let out. “m’sorry I haven’t bothered you today i couldn’t help it!”, you rolled your eyes damn near to the back of your brain. “good to know you do that on purpose!”, you returned the favor by adding frosting on his forearm.

“hey I apologized rascal!”, you giggled reaching your hand to remove your apron. his eyes wondered your body once again. “you have a very pretty figure.” he just… blurted that out?! not even facing you he was using a knife to cut a slice. “oh um thank you!”, he nodded taking a finger into his mouth tasting the confectionery cream. “yeah you’re very beautiful.” he knew you were blushing, the little hue of color was flushing your skin. “you still have frosting on your face.” his hand pressed against your jaw as his thumb softly swiped right. he then leaned in to peck your cheek. “all better now.”

“are you tired?” you nodded it was getting late although you were technically ‘off’ tomorrow you, knew you’d be getting up early to help michael get the kids ready for the day. “you should get some sleep I’ll walk you to your room.” after cleaning up the kitchen and finishing the dessert, michael walked you upstairs hand in hand. you sat on the edge of the bed, he got on one knee removing your shoes. “goodness honey your feet are all red.”, his tone was genuinely worrisome. you winced at the sudden massage he gave you, it felt warm yet sharp all at once. “take it easy tomorrow okay?… you can sleep in.”

immediately you shook your head, “no I need to help two toddlers is a lot-“, “they’re my kids baby.” he looked up, his touch softening the further his fingers slid up. “I got this I can handle one day.” for some reason a frown appeared on your face, the idea of you not doing anything made you feel guilty? almost as if they were your own. your foot dropped back against the bed panel, michael stood up now slightly towering over you. he bent down to press a kiss onto your temple, “you’re welcome to sleep in my room to wake me up in the morning.” you grinned at the suggestion.

one long shower later you were dressed in one of michael’s old shirts laying next to him in the king sized bed. one lamp took over the room as he was reading a book intensely, skimming through each word with his reading glasses. “you smell sweet I like it.” you again felt flustered, this was getting ridiculous you felt like a school girl with a crush! “sorry if it’s strong.” he closed the book turning his focus on you. “no not at all.” a click! sound was heard as he turned the light off, your head plopped down into the pillow. his bed felt very cold it was the perfect temperature to sleep in. you moved back to get comfortable, but you went a little TOO far behind because now you were right on michael’s stomach. ( dad bod michael save me! )

“I’m so sorry!” he laughed “it’s alright you can stay!” your heart was racing it was so quiet in the room he had to hear it. his hand pressed against the out line of your waist, “please rest.” you put your fingers onto his. “I will.” he pulled the covers up over your body, “goodnight pretty girl.” his annoying ass made you giggle…. oh my god again! “goodnight michael.” you felt the tiniest smooch on your ear, before he turned over. “um.. mic-“ what the hell are you doing stop? “oh yes?” shut up. stop. go to bed. “could I get a kiss?” you could see him grinning from the moonlight blaring through the lacey white curtain.

your adrenaline was going at full speed what in the hell did you just ask this man that? say goodbye to your high paying job. he planted an actual kiss on your lips which would’ve been fine!

….if you two didn’t start making out.

꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱

𝓈𝓎𝓃𝑜𝓅𝓈𝒾𝓈 - Jermajesty gets a little too jealous when his best friend gets ready for a date, but best friends don't fuck, right ?

𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓃𝓉 - requested! pervbsf!Jermajesty, black!reader, no use of y/n, whole lotta smut, slight arguing, swearing, he's lowk corny, unprotected p in v, (wrap it before you tap it), he's an eater fr, fingering, masturbation(male), overstimulation if you look close enough.

𝓌𝒸 - 3.5k

𝓪/𝓷 - i think this might be THE most shortest and shittiest fic i have ever written, it made me realize i CANNOT write smut 😭 also lmk if yall caught the ref 😏

Please reblog, like, and comment !! Feed your local author!! happy reading !!

℘ Michael Jackson x f! Black reader ~ oneshot

℘ Synopsis: In which you lose a deal to your boyfriend, you now have to face your fears—petting his llamas.

℘ WC: 1.6k

A/N: This fic was so funny for me to make bc i’m lowkey scared of animals, so i was delulu imagining how michael would’ve been helping me😭 (also side note ik he didn’t have Lola and Louie at the same time—rip Lola 😭 but i wanted a cute scene of them petting both of them together!)

You were terrified. And I mean, terrified of animals. And it didn’t help that your boyfriend was practically the male version of snow white.

There was nothing Michael didn’t have over at Hayvenhurst from llamas, monkeys, peacocks, dogs, parrots–of every kind, snakes and ostriches, the list just went on.

When you thought about it, you had no idea where your fear had stemmed from. It wasn’t like you found the sight of animals repulsive, you thought they were adorable. But to actually go and pet one? Or go within three feet of one? Hell.No.

ame’s notes : Had an idea similar to this a while back. Though it’s very different from the idea I initially had I still wanted to write smth like it. Anyway hope you enjoy :)

“Owhhh, fuck, calm down, Jer,” you gasped as he pumped his fingers faster after hearing you almost scream out his name.

“What’s that? Thought you was havin’ a hard time coming?” he whispered, leaning down to your ear before biting your earlobe.

.✦ ݁˖

Jermajesty and you had been sitting on your apartment couch, just hanging out. You were laid back with your legs resting across his lap.

He’d been your best friend for a while, so you felt comfortable enough to let out your frustration. As the conversation progressed to talking about sex, you finally let it out.

“I haven’t been able to orgasm in like… weeks,” you muttered, resting your head against the couch as you stared at the ceiling.

“Shit, what? Weeks is crazy.” He laughed.

You playfully pushed him with your foot, causing him to sarcastically let out an exaggerated “OW!” before lightly hitting you back.

“I’m serious! Ain’t nothin’ funny about this.” You rolled your eyes, biting your lip.

“I mean…” He hesitated. “I can help?” he finally said, avoiding your eyes.

“What? You’re gonna make me come?”

“I always make my women finish. The praises I hear after I’m done with them—God, you should hear it—” he bragged, tilting his chin up with a huge smile.

“Okay, enough.” You cut him off, rolling your eyes.

“Sooo… may I help?” he asked, lazily rubbing one of your legs, his pupils dilated.

You were hesitant at first, unsure if taking things further would ruin your friendship. But God, you were needy as fuck.

Fuck it.

You looked up at him and gave him a small nod of approval.

His face painted a cocky smile. “I won’t disappoint ya.”

He grabbed your hand and helped you sit upright, your legs still resting over his lap. One of his hands kept you steady as your body shuddered when you felt his warm hand against your bare skin, slipping beneath your top.

His back, which had once been resting against the backrest, was now completely straight, his face closer to yours. His gaze lingered on your lips before his thumb came up to graze them.

“It must’ve been frustrating, huh?” he murmured.

You bit your lip in response, still hesitant about every choice that had led you to this very moment.

The hand that had been occupied with your lips moved back to your legs, massaging the soft flesh of your thighs. Then, in one swift motion, he removed your shorts and lace panties, tossing them aside while keeping his gaze locked onto yours.

You couldn’t keep eye contact with him as the shyness began creeping in more and more.

“Eyes on me,” he demanded.

Your eyes avoided his for a moment before eventually obeying.

He gently separated your thighs, revealing your glistening cunt. His fingers slowly made their way toward your wetness.

You squeezed your eyes shut, but before you even felt his touch where you expected it, you suddenly felt a warm hand against your cheek.

“Open your eyes f’me, baby.”

You opened them softly, meeting his gaze. The hunger in his eyes had been replaced by something much softer.

“Are you sure you want me to do this?” he asked, clearly concerned by the discomfort written across your face.

“I do. I’m just… scared,” you admitted.

“What if I let you in and I still don’t—” You looked away, your arms wrapping around his neck.

“I know, ma. I know,” he said. “If it doesn’t work, I owe you a hundred.”

You laughed at his sarcastic remark before softly hitting him on the chest.

“Don’t forget.”

“I won’t.”

His face came up to kiss your forehead before he pulled back to look at you again.

.✦ ݁˖

“Just relax f’me.”

He continued, his hand moving back toward your wetness. He was eager to feel you. (But that was only something for him to know.)

You shuddered at the sudden touch of his fingers against your cunt, slowly yet softly rubbing back and forth and in circles as if he were determined to get you comfortable.

The feeling was euphoric. You threw your head back.

“Fuck,” you whispered, your eyes closing.

“Yeahhh, that’s right. Just relax.”

He then moved up to your clit, rubbing it in slow circles at first.

“Just feel it, mama,” he whispered.

And oh, you did.

You felt sparks shooting through your mind, your thoughts completely lost as you found yourself unable to focus on anything other than the way his fingers moved against your clit.

You arched your back as he fastened his pace.

“Mmhpf!, Jer,” you moaned, your eyes rolling back as your hips instinctively ground against him in search of that release.

Without warning, he slipped two of the fingers that had been working your clit inside your dripping hole. Though he never forgot where he was initially busy, his thumb continued rubbing your clit at the same time, his fingers pumping inside you.

“Oh my God, Jer!” you cried, arching your back at the feeling.

“Thaaat’s it, mama. That’s it,” he praised. “Such a pretty good girl, huh?”

Your legs almost started stiffening on his lap, his hand still keeping you upright as you became completely numb, unable to move.

He was in awe of your beauty in that moment. His gaze shifted from his hand, still moving without stopping, back to your face. The way you trusted him. The way you had laughed with him earlier. The way you held onto him as if he would disappear if you let go.

And without a second thought, he slipped his tongue into your mouth, unable to hold himself back from kissing you.

You immediately gave in to the heat of the moment. His tongue dancing with yours only brought your release closer.

“You can do it, mama,” he mumbled against your mouth.

“Just let it all go f’me,” he continued, keeping his mouth against yours as if he wanted to consume you whole.

His hand fastened when you thought he couldn’t go any faster. Then, with one more curl of his fingers inside you, your climax crashed over you.

You whimpered and moaned against his wet tongue as your body finally released all the tension you had been carrying for weeks. Wet spurts came gushing of your cunt, wetting his pants and the couch beneath.

Saliva dripped from both your mouths. His eyes were closed, but he opened them just enough to admire the beauty of you on top of him.

Your whole body stiffened before finally relaxing, and you couldn’t help but smile at the feeling you’d been so desperate to reach for weeks.

You both pulled back from the messy kiss, catching your breaths. Your head came to rest on his shoulder as you tried to recover from the immense pleasure you had just experienced.

His hand, which had once been holding you upright, came up to caress you gently, moving up and down your back.

“Now you’re the one who owes me a hundred bucks,” you whispered, loud enough for him to hear.

“What? That’s not what the deal was!” he exclaimed, letting out a soft giggle.

Though you both joked about it, neither of you was brave enough to address the kiss you had just shared.

perm tag : @mirasjointtttttt

.ೀ smut . ⊹ mdni 𑣲 bad!michael. f!reader. edging. orgasm control. slight degradation. praise.

MJ wants to empty your brain and make you his doll.

“Stay empty for me. That’s how you stay safe. That’s how you stay mine. The quieter you get inside, the more room there is for me.”

tw: blackbimbo!reader, dub!con, mind break, personality erosion, hypnotic, repetitive conditioning, org@smdenial, edging, soft!dom, heavy!oral, crying, praise & babying, loss of autonomy, b!mbofication.

You had been carrying too much for too long. The meetings, the proving, the careful smile you wore in rooms that still measured you twice, the stress of corporate work never letting your mind quiet... So when the invitation came through a mutual friend something in you leapt.

Michael Jackson had always been a mystery to you, he was the voice that lived in the background of your childhood and the man no one ever truly got to know. The idea of sitting across from him made your pulse quicken in a way the boardrooms never had so, you agreed before the caution could catch up.

The private dinner was quiet when his security led you inside. He was seated, one leg crossed over the other, black heeled boots polished to a soft shine, white socks just visible above them. A black military style jacket sat perfectly on his shoulders. His dark hair fell forward as he looked down, sunglasses still on, studying a small cluster of pale yellow flowers in his hand. For a second he didn’t notice you.. then he lifted his eyes.