myhobari.

TAGLIST (CLOSED!): @pinkkycherrish @hismainchic @jeyusosglasses @junkie05 @buckybarnessweetheart @ether3alglory @soimightlikeoldmen69 @queenofchelsea @chaotuics @arithescorpio @myhobari @niyahctrl @mxnijuana @freshbonggwater @spencerreidismyhusband123 @mrsj4cks0n @tauroist @watamotee33 @delictezz @bbcouture-69 @enzo6ekiiii @fortuncooki @jurneeblogs @justalocallesbian @sexyslutprincess @darkseidex @neighbourscat @lov3lylxvender @simpllytea @timae444 @lunarexperttrace @peacemakersbeloved @uh444 @mjsfavouritefish @totallylucidzzz @swavydadon @brxght-world @plan3tch1ld @shutupzela @honeysfavoritemuse @bluebiva @lotusflwss @gnabnahcsworld @fizzycakepop @kneelarmhstrung @michaelsbabymother @cozygirljay @yourlocalpyt @backlikearash2 @xyahx 🩷

you were completely in a daze of overwhelming pleasure, the heavy aroma of sex and the nonstop stimulation you felt from below only heightening your senses further. you didn’t know how many times you had cum — to be frank, you lost count at four — and it seemed as if Jermajesty wasn’t stopping any time soon, which was only pushing you closer and closer to overstimulation.

you laid on your back with your legs spread wide while Jermajesty sat on his knees between your slick thighs, his hips moving rapidly as he fucked you deeply. one of his hands gripped your hip to keep you in place and his other hand gripped your thigh to keep your leg steady over his shoulder, his bottom lip tucked between his teeth as he concentrated on bringing you to another orgasmic high.

your noises were high-pitched and were either borderline screams or incoherent babbles, your brain turning into mush and your body succumbing to the intense pleasure that could be felt in every limb, finger, and toe. your jaw hung open and sounds of bliss left your agape lips uncontrollably as you tightly clung to Jermajesty’s forearms and left crescent-shaped markings in his tan skin, your brows tightly knitted together while your body rocked with each push of his hips.

suddenly, you felt Jermajesty’s tip jab against your g-spot for what felt like the millionth time tonight and a ragged cry of pleasure left your vocals, alerting him of what he had done. noticing this, Jermajesty angled his hips and started thrusting towards that specific area, hitting your erogenous zone with precision as his hand on your hip slid up to grip your waist.

your eyes rolled so far back that only the whites were visible and your head fell back against the pillows beneath you as you felt another orgasm start to bubble up inside of you, except this one was building quicker than the others had and your legs started to shake from the overwhelming sensation.

“b-baby, pleaseeee!” you sobbed, your voice cracking, as tears of pleasure brimmed your eyes and your head suddenly shot up, your hands quickly moving to push and slap at his lower abdomen to slow him down or stop him altogether, “i-i can’t— nnnngh!— t-too much! too m-muuuuch— c-can’t take itttt, M-Maj, please!”

Jermajesty looked down at your urgently-moving hands before looking at your face, and he studied your expression for a split second before a small knowing grin crossed his face. he pulled your legs up to his waist and wrapped them around him as he grabbed your hands from his lower stomach and intertwined your fingers together, pinning your combined hands on either side of your head before leaning down and pressing his body against yours to keep you from running.

“yes, you can, mama. you can take it. you been takin’ it so good for me, pretty girl, i know you can handle it for a lil’ longer,” Jermajesty cooed, squeezing your hands, as you immediately shook your head and let out another sob, your grip tightening on his hands while your legs tightened around his waist, “c’mon, baby, you got it. i know you do. just gimme’ another one, ma. cum f’me me one more time. stop runnin’ from it and embrace it. just feel it — feel me.”

by now, hot tears of pleasure were streaming down your face and you were sobbing in between your moans and whines, your body being pushed into the deepest pits of overstimulation yet your pussy still wanted more of him. your walls rapidly spasmed around his dick and your head lolled back as Jermajesty pressed soft kisses against the side of your neck and inched up to your jaw, kissing away the teardrops that were threatening to cascade down your chin.

“you feel how deep i am, mama? hm? you feel how you keep squeezin’ me ‘cause i’m hittin’ that spot you like?” Jermajesty murmured against your melanated skin as he kissed away the tears rolling down your cheeks and you whimpered weakly, the trembling in your legs only intensifying at his dirty words, “you feel how wet i got this pretty lil’ pussy, baby? you can’t run from me and be this soakin’ wet, ma, that don’t even sound right. just keep takin’ this dick like a good girl f’me and i’ll make you feel s’good.”

you tried to think of something to say to him, but your bottom lip quivered in response instead, your brain too fuzzy to think of anything, let alone a rebuttal. as Jermajesty continued peppering kisses along your face, your eyes squeezed shut and your legs suddenly locked up around his waist as a loud gasp ripped through you before you let out a hoarse scream of pleasure, your entire body writhing and shaking underneath Jermajesty while your orgasm rushed through you and completely deregulated you.

“oooooh, fuckfuckfuckfuck— ohhhhh, shiiiiiiit!” whiny and high-pitched spews of profanity flew from your mouth involuntarily and you gripped Jermajesty impossibly tighter as broken sob of pleasure fell from your lips and more stray tears rolled down your cheeks, your pussy becoming increasingly sensitive while Jermajesty continued fucking you through your climax.

“uh-huh, there you go, mama. thaaat’s it, i told you you could take it. you so pretty when you cummin’, baby, look at you. cryin’ on this dick and still the most beautiful girl in the world. i’m so lucky to have you, ma.”

TAGLIST (CLOSED!): @pinkkycherrish @hismainchic @jeyusosglasses @junkie05 @buckybarnessweetheart @ether3alglory @soimightlikeoldmen69 @queenofchelsea @chaotuics @arithescorpio @myhobari @niyahctrl @mxnijuana @freshbonggwater @spencerreidismyhusband123 @mrsj4cks0n @tauroist @watamotee33 @delictezz @bbcouture-69 @enzo6ekiiii @fortuncooki @jurneeblogs @justalocallesbian @sexyslutprincess @darkseidex @neighbourscat @lov3lylxvender @simpllytea @timae444 @lunarexperttrace @peacemakersbeloved @uh444 @mjsfavouritefish @totallylucidzzz @swavydadon @brxght-world @plan3tch1ld @shutupzela @honeysfavoritemuse @bluebiva @lotusflwss @gnabnahcsworld @fizzycakepop @kneelarmhstrung @michaelsbabymother @cozygirljay @yourlocalpyt @backlikearash2 @xyahx 🩷

“you so pretty, ma…”

at the sound of Jermajesty’s praise, you raised your head and looked down at him, but your eyebrows slightly furrowed once you realized he was talking to your pussy and not you. you watched in slight amusement as he stared at your pussy in admiration before using his thumbs to spread your second set of lips open and expose you further, a gentle shiver running down your spine.

“all pretty and wet f’me… you want me to touch you, don’t you? want me to take care of you, baby?” Jermajesty cooed lowly, gently biting down on his bottom lip, as he eyed your pussy hungrily and felt his dick jump in his sweatpants at the sight.

“Maj—”

before you could finish your sentence, a hard smack was placed on the side of your ass and your words died in your throat as you yelped at the impact and Jermajesty’s gaze flickered up to you, one of his eyebrows raising.

“you don’t see me havin’ a conversation right now?” Jermajesty asked, making your eyebrows slightly furrow again, as you parted your lips to speak but the other side of your ass was quickly slapped before you could get your words out, making you whine instead, “don’t be interruptin’ me. you wait ‘til i’m finished if you wanna talk. you got that?”

your clit thumped at the slaps and at his words and you bit down on your bottom lip as you slowly nodded your head, the sting radiating from the sides of your ass sending tingles throughout your body and making you wetter than you already were.

Jermajesty looked at you silently for a moment before a small knowing smirk crossed his face and he looked down at your pussy as he spread you open with his index and middle fingers this time, slowly eyeing you down as if it were his first time seeing you.

“mm, look at that… you wetter than you were before i got down here, mama. you droolin’, huh? that’s how ready you are for me to touch you?” Jermajesty murmured, dragging the tips of his fingers through your folds, as a soft gasp fell from your lips and your hips jerked, your walls clenching around nothing with a soft squelching sound, “oh, you are, huh? you ready for me to make you cum, pretty girl? is that it?”

truthfully, listening to him talk to your pussy as if you weren’t there was only making you needier for him to do something — anything. you were hornier than ever and watching him play house with your pussy wasn’t as satisfying as him eating it, let alone fucking it.

“baby…” you whined, your hips rolling forward against his fingertips, as his hand abruptly moved from between your legs and you felt two hard slaps against both sides of your ass, a sharp whimper falling from your lips at the feeling, “Maj, please, i—”

before you could finish your sentence, Jermajesty suddenly flipped you over onto your stomach and gave your ass a rough slap, earning a broken whine from you as your hips rolled forward against the mattress.

“what i say? huh?” Jermajesty asked, gripping your hips and lifting them high, as he slapped your ass again, harder this time, and left behind a faint handprint on one of your cheeks, “you don’t listen, mama. told you i was tryna’ have a conversation and you keep interruptin’ me.”

“i’m s-sorry,” you whimpered pitifully before squealing at feeling him roughly slap your other asscheek and leave another faint handprint, your body jerking upon impact, “please, baby, j-just touch me… i need you…”

“mhm, it’s a’ight. i’ma give you somethin’ to be sorry for, mama. you better stay just like that, and you bet not run from me.”

TAGLIST (CLOSED!): @pinkkycherrish @hismainchic @jeyusosglasses @junkie05 @buckybarnessweetheart @ether3alglory @soimightlikeoldmen69 @queenofchelsea @chaotuics @arithescorpio @myhobari @niyahctrl @mxnijuana @freshbonggwater @spencerreidismyhusband123 @mrsj4cks0n @tauroist @watamotee33 @delictezz @bbcouture-69 @enzo6ekiiii @fortuncooki @jurneeblogs @justalocallesbian @sexyslutprincess @darkseidex @neighbourscat @lov3lylxvender @simpllytea @timae444 @lunarexperttrace @peacemakersbeloved @uh444 @mjsfavouritefish @totallylucidzzz @swavydadon @brxght-world @plan3tch1ld @shutupzela @honeysfavoritemuse @bluebiva @lotusflwss @gnabnahcsworld @fizzycakepop @kneelarmhstrung @michaelsbabymother @cozygirljay @yourlocalpyt @backlikearash2 @xyahx 🩷

nobody could ever make Michael forget about his deep love for you. nobody. not the cameras, not his dear fans who he adored very much, not the lustful groupies trying to find him after his shows, and definitely not any dirty tabloid pieces. he was all about you and all for you, and there was nothing anyone could do to pull him out of his lovesick headspace.

Michael was surrounded by flashing cameras, nosy paparazzi, flirty groupies, and loving (and occasionally flirty) fans almost everyday, but regardless of how long or how much he was gone, you always stayed front and center on his mind. whenever he went in public, he’d always wear the darkest pair of aviators he owned to shield his eyes because if anyone saw them, they’d see how widely they were open and how dilated his pupils were, which were caused by daydreaming about you — quite frankly, you lived rent-free in head more than harmonies and instrumentals did.

women trying to flirt with him didn’t even get his attention like it used to. when he met you, he couldn’t see any other woman except for you, and now that you’ve been together for a while, it was completely solidified. he didn’t care about all of the women who wanted a piece of him because he wanted a piece of you.

whenever his days would end, he couldn’t wait to come home to you. he couldn’t wait to hold you, to touch you, to love you, to kiss you, to hug you, to taste you… God, he couldn’t wait to fuck you.

“M-Michael…” you whimpered breathily, grabbing onto his back, as Michael moaned against the crook of your neck and his grip tightened on your thighs, pulling them up to his waist and wrapping your legs around him.

this was his favorite part of the day: being as deep inside of you as possible and hearing the way you’d call out his name in different pitches, volumes, and tones. the feeling of your hands clinging to either his arms, back, or shoulders when he hit it just right, or the feeling of your soft palms cradling the sides of his face to pull him into a deep kiss as he bottomed out.

his hands would explore every inch of you he could. he’d start at your thighs, then he’d grip your hips, then he’d hold onto your waist, then he’d play with your breasts, and he’d start all over again. simultaneously, he’d kiss at your neck or collarbone, but his favorite place was your lips.

your lips were so soft. so pretty and plump that he couldn’t help but to suck on your bottom one whenever your kisses would end. your mouth was so sweet to him. he loved kissing you more than anything — well, almost anything. words couldn’t begin to describe how much he loved making love to you.

“oh, you feel amazin’, mama… feels so good wrapped around me,” Michael moaned, resting his forehead against yours, as he expertly rolled his fluid hips into yours and you let out a broken whine, your hands grasping onto his shoulders to hold him close while your breaths mingled with his, “mm, been thinkin’ of this all day, baby. you don’t know how much i’ve needed this — how much i’ve craved this. everybody wants my attention so bad and all i wanna do is give it all to you… just wanna give my lady everything i have to offer. wanna make you the happiest you’ve ever been…”

“mhmmm— i-i’m ‘bout to cum,” you whined, your hands sliding down to the middle of his back, as you pulled him closer and your chest pressed flush against his, your erect nipples rubbing against his skin and eliciting a ragged groan from him, “babyyy, i’m gonna cuuum…”

“give it to me, beautiful, c’mon. cum f’me. wanna watch my pretty baby fall apart underneath me,” Michael’s words wasted no time tipping you over the edge and you let out a loud high-pitched moan as your orgasm rushed through you and you came all over Michael’s throbbing dick, coaxing a breathy moan from him while he continued thrusting deeply, “there you go, sweetheart, thaaaat’s it… gimme’ another, won’t you? wanna see you wet me up some more. love watchin’ the pretty faces you make while i fuck you, mama.”

he was yours — all yours — and you practically had him wrapped around your little finger without even realizing it.

Michael loves pussy.

That is an undeniable truth about the twenty-year-old man watching his neighbor from across the street. She’s so gorgeous he might cry. From what he can see, her skin is smooth, her hair looks soft, and she has a body that would put a Playboy bunny to shame.

Michael catches his bottom lip between his teeth as he imagines all the ways he would like to have her. On the bed. On the floor. Against the wall. In the shower. By his pool, where the sun would warm her skin and make everything shine. The list keeps going, branching into new possibilities faster than he can follow them, and he doesn’t even know her name yet.

If anyone could peek into his mind this very second, they would find her ruined. Hair disheveled, mascara running, mouth parted around everything he has to give. He imagines her struggling to fit him down her throat, eyes watering while she looks up at him as though he is the most beautiful thing she has ever seen. The fantasy is crude, entitled, and entirely one-sided.

He knows he shouldn’t think this way about a stranger, but he really can’t help it.

For a bit of context, Michael grew up in an ultra-religious home. Church on Sundays and Wednesdays, no celebrations of self, and absolutely no premarital sex. His mother did the best she could to keep her youngest son from turning out like his brothers, or worse, his father. She watched him closely, corrected him often, and treated every question about the body as though it might be the first loose thread in a garment that would soon unravel.

For Michael, even learning about the ugly parts of life was off-limits.

Those years when a person transitions from adolescent to adult were heavily policed in his house. His mother had rules for what he could watch, what he could read, where he could go, and how long he was allowed to stand in front of a mirror. Vanity was dangerous. Curiosity was dangerous. A boy who thought too much about girls was already halfway to ruin.

Michael didn’t give it much thought at first. He didn’t understand what he was missing, so the absence felt natural. That changed when he began touring with his brothers. Away from home and out from under the watchful eye of the family’s matriarch, the world became louder, looser, and far more promiscuous than Michael was used to.

All kinds of women threw themselves at the group. They lingered after shows, slipped backstage, laughed too loudly at jokes that weren’t funny, and touched the brothers as though familiarity could be created by force.

Their father encouraged the boys to indulge in temptation. He spoke about women with the same casual confidence he used when discussing money, contracts, and applause. The older brothers listened, even encouraged one another.

Michael couldn’t do it, though.

He thought the women were dirty. Not because they had done anything wrong, exactly, but because that was the only word he had been given for desire. If a woman wanted his body, she must want something from him. If she flirted with him, she must be trying to use him. He didn’t want to give himself to someone who only wanted his body for brownie points, a backstage story, or bragging rights among her friends.

Still, he couldn’t fight biology.

Tainted or not, the girls affected him. Their perfume followed him into hotel elevators. Their laughter stayed in his head after the lights went down. A hand on his arm could make his entire body tense. He would lie awake in unfamiliar rooms, staring at the ceiling while an ache gathered beneath his waistband, and wonder what was wrong with him.

Coming home after nights like that always left him needy, but he was completely uneducated about how to handle those feelings. He tried to will them away. He focused on work, practiced a new routine, or repeated the same steps until his muscles burned and the ache between his legs finally dulled.

Michael learned to recognize the warning signs.

Restlessness, heat gathering beneath his pants, or his attention snagging on every woman who crossed his path. A smile from a pretty girl could derail an entire afternoon. He treated each symptom like an enemy attack, and spent extra hours rehearsing, took cold showers, and read scripture aloud until the words blurred together.

Anything that cooled the fire burning in his belly was worth trying.

His world changed completely at the ripe age of eighteen when his oldest brother sent him to look for a cassette.

Jackie had been in a hurry, shouting from somewhere down the hall that Michael needed to check the shelves in the spare room. Michael went looking without asking questions. He dug through old equipment, tangled cords, and stacks of records no one played anymore. He checked behind the television, beneath the cabinet, and inside a drawer full of batteries.

The cassette wasn’t there, but the magazines were.

Tucked behind a row of old music books, their glossy covers turned inward as though someone had tried to hide them without committing to the effort. Each one featured a different goddess. Michael noticed the women first, then the title, then the unmistakable reason they had been kept out of sight.

His mouth went dry.

He pulled the booklets from the shelf and settled in the center of the room. Side by side, each edition lay open on the plush carpet, flipped to the center pages while Michael viewed the beauty of women up close. The denim covering his legs grew tighter as he fought (and failed) to keep his composure.

The pictures were more explicit than anything he had encountered. They were arranged with such glossy confidence that he could hardly look away. The women smiled at the camera as if they knew exactly what they were doing to him. They appeared comfortable and unashamed in their bodies, bare skin serving as an invitation.

Michael studied them with the concentration he really only reserved for choreography.

He noted the tilt of a hip, the curve of a waist, and the careful placement of a hand. He examined the way one woman arched her back and how another turned her face toward the camera. He told himself he was merely trying to understand what all the fuss was about.

Naturally, he had been caught.

“Mike!” Jackie called from the doorway. “Did you find th—”

The culprit’s body went rigid, a total deer in the headlights.

Jackie stopped with one hand still resting on the doorframe. His eyes traveled from Michael’s flushed face to the magazines scattered across the carpet. For one precious second, neither of them moved.

Then Michael scrambled to collect the very damning evidence at his feet.

He snatched one magazine, then another. The pages slapped together in his shaking hands. His knee caught the edge of a third, sending it skidding beneath the table.

Jackie’s grin widened.

Michael knew, before Jackie even opened his mouth, that he was finished.

The eldest wasted no time alerting the house about his younger brother’s…private time.

“Man! Y’all!” he shouted, already laughing as he ran through the halls. “Mikey up here touchin’ himself!”

Michael heard his mother scold Jackie from downstairs. He also heard one of the other brothers ask what happened, followed by a chorus of delighted voices.

He didn’t stick around to hear more.

Michael grabbed the magazines against his chest and fled to his room. Once safely inside, he shoved the door closed and dragged a chair beneath the knob. Then he stood with his back pressed against the wood, breathing as though he had just run from the police.

The embarrassment was brutal.

It, however, wasn’t what lingered in his mind.

Instead, it was what his brother had said.

‘Touchin’ himself.’

Michael repeated the phrase silently. The words sounded filthy in Jackie’s voice, but they also sounded strangely ordinary. Jackie hadn’t sounded horrified. He had sounded amused, the same way someone would if you were caught picking your nose.

Sure, this may seem like something Michael should have figured out quite some time ago, but self-discovery had been explicitly named sin, and that principle had been drilled into his head for the last eighteen years.

His mother had never explained what self-discovery meant. She had only warned him against it. The phrase had appeared in sermons, conversations, and stern reminders delivered while she straightened his collar or checked the length of his hair. Do not touch yourself. Do not encourage impure thoughts. Do not let your body lead you somewhere your spirit cannot follow.

The instruction had been simple.

The problem was that no one had ever told him what would happen if he ignored it.

But those magazines, they were there for a reason.

Michael glanced toward the chair beneath the doorknob, suddenly feeling too warm. The magazines sat on his bed, covers turned face down, but he could still feel the women watching him from inside them.

If his older brother knew about them, it couldn’t be that bad, right?

Whatever the answer was, Michael was more than willing to find out.

After all, those women were still at the forefront of his mind, and most of the blood flowing through his body had already rushed between his legs.

He sat on the edge of his bed and stared at the floor, mulling over his convictions. He tried to summon the appropriate horror and imagine his mother’s face. The disappointment in her eyes, or the prayer she would insist on saying over him.

The fear came, but so did the want.

The want won.

Michael decided he could repent later.

Shaky fingers found the button on his jeans and popped it open. Next came the zipper, which he lowered slowly, pausing twice to listen for footsteps in the hallway. When none came, he hooked his fingers in the waistband of his pants and underwear and pulled them down.

A soft hiss left his lips as the head of his dick kissed the air.

There wasn’t really an instruction manual for this kind of thing. No pamphlet had been tucked into his Bible, and his older brothers certainly hadn’t sat him down and explained what to do.

So now, Michael sat on his bed with his dick hard against his stomach, staring at his lap for what felt like an eternity.

He was paralyzed.

It felt as though every sermon and warning had been leading up to this moment. The moment when he would prove himself weak, fleshly, and destined for hell. He could practically hear the congregation singing beneath him, could picture his mother’s hand tightening around his wrist as she led him toward the altar.

His right hand hovered over his heat, fingers curled as though he were about to pick up a raw egg. He didn’t even know how to hold it.

‘Maybe like a microphone?’

He had done that onstage plenty of times, but now he would only be performing for himself. Michael lowered his hand. His thumb brushed across the head, dragging over the slit with delicate pressure.

His body lurched forward, and his breath caught, then an involuntary sound escaped him. It was high, almost anguished, and entirely unfamiliar.

The man froze.

The room seemed to freeze with him. The muted television, hallway creaks, and humming air conditioner all faded behind the pounding of his heart. He waited for shame to descend with the force of a thunderclap, for his skin to burn, for some unmistakable sign that he had crossed a line from which he could not return.

Yet, nothing happened.

His body remained eager, hand still resting where he had left it.

This was what they had been so desperate to keep him from?

This?

Never had Michael felt more cheated in his life.

He tried the movement again, slower this time. The pad of his thumb was slick with the clear fluid that had beaded at the tip. The initial shock gave way to a growing hunger. His hips jerked upward, searching for more, and his left hand gripped the bedspread to keep himself anchored.

What came next?

Michael had no idea.

Memories of his siblings’ crude behavior with bananas and hot dogs at the dinner table flooded his mind. He had always rolled his eyes or pretended to gag, but now he realized he had been taking silent notes. At the time, he thought his brothers were being disgusting for the sole purpose of making him uncomfortable.

Now, with the magazines scattered somewhere outside his locked door and his own body reacting to the smallest touch, their jokes seemed less like jokes and more like instructions he had never been allowed to ask about.

He wrapped his hand around himself, loose at first. Then he tightened his grip to see what felt better.

Everything felt better.

The discovery sent a strange shiver through him. For the first time, he understood that his body wasn’t a test he could fail. He could adjust, pause, start over. He could listen to himself, even if no one had ever taught him how, and there was no fire and brimstone waiting for him after. This was liberating.

His thumb found a sensitive spot just beneath the head, and another whimper escaped. He muffled it with the heel of his palm, eyes widening as though someone might have heard.

He pumped experimentally, grip too tight, then too loose. Every adjustment brought new and unpredictable pleasure. He watched his hand as though it belonged to someone else, fascinated by the simple mechanics of it. The motion became less awkward after a while. His wrist found a pattern, and his breathing began to follow it.

He was panting now. His thighs trembled with both anticipation and confusion. The old voice that reigned supreme in the back of his mind hissed at him, whispering, ‘No! This is wrong!’

But something newer, something louder, screamed, ‘More, more, more!’

He thought of the girls again. The one on the magazine cover biting her finger. The others he had seen on late-night shows, their bodies lit in soft colors while the rest of the house slept. Michael imagined those girls admiring him the way he had admired them.

Would they find him just as beautiful?

The thought of someone looking at him that way deepened the pressure building inside him. It became a growing ache, a warmth that made his eyes roll back. He wanted to lose himself in the feeling and stay lost.

More than that, he wanted to understand what it meant to be wanted.

His family had made desire sound like a trap laid by the devil, something that reduced a person to appetite. Yet, the fantasy of a woman watching him with the same hungry attention he gave her made something inside him unfold.

For once, he wasn’t the boy his family treated as something to be corrected, monitored, and warned. He was a man with something worth wanting.

When he began to move a little faster, it nearly killed him.

He gasped, hips bucking upward, and for a moment he almost feared he might faint. His back fell against the bed, and a loud, whiny groan tumbled from his mouth. The sound startled him, and his hand froze.

Michael stared at the door, certain someone had heard. His whole body went rigid as he listened. The hallway remained silent, devoid of footsteps shuffling up the hall. No knuckles struck the door, and no voice called his name.

Only the hum of family chatter drifted up from downstairs.

Michael swallowed and looked back down.

The fear should’ve stopped him. It should’ve sent him scrambling for his clothes, kneeling beside the bed with his head bowed and a prayer already forming on his lips. Instead, the old warnings rose in him then faltered, still frightening but no longer powerful enough to decide for him.

The interruption only sharpened the feeling.

He had reached the edge of something delicious.

Once the silence assured him no one was coming, Michael continued his ministrations. His palm moved from base to tip as the slickness gathered with each pass. The friction was dizzying. His hips followed the movement in jerky, uncontrolled thrusts. Each new sensation folded into the last until his body seemed to move ahead of his thoughts. He tried to slow down, but instinct carried him forward.

Heat gathered beneath his skin while his pulse filled his ears. It was as if all five senses had sharpened at once. The sheets scraped beneath his fingers, as each beat of his heart crashed through him like a drum. He tried to savor the feeling, but his hand refused to obey. It pushed him further toward bliss.

Michael squeezed himself tighter and moaned louder, sinking deeper into the mattress with every stroke. His mind raced in a panic of lust and disbelief.

He wondered whether anyone could sense his transgressions down the hall. He thought about whether the neighbors across the street could see his silhouette writhing in the window. The embarrassment was nothing compared to the anticipation, which mounted second by second until his thoughts were reduced to static.

The magazines had promised a certain kind of pleasure, all lacquered smiles and theatrical poses, but none of them had prepared him for this. There was no graceful way to experience it. His fingers were clumsy, and his breathing broke apart in his chest. His face felt hot, and his body moved without permission.

This was the moment Michael discovered real pleasure.

He had imagined desire as something a person could control if they tried hard enough, something that could be switched on and off like a light. This, however, was a tide surging through him, indifferent to every rule meant to hold it back.

His free hand twisted in the sheets. The fabric bunched beneath his grip, anchoring his body to the room while the rest of him seemed to float somewhere outside of it. His eyes squeezed shut; closing them only made the images brighter.

He tried to hold on to one fantasy and lost it almost immediately. One girl’s hair became another’s smile. A painted mouth blurred into the soft outline of someone he had seen while onstage. A pair of eyes became a pair of thighs.

The details no longer mattered.

The need was enough.

A broken noise gathered in his throat. Michael squeezed himself a little harder, driven by instinct rather than thought. The pressure coiled low in his body and tightened with every stroke. His muscles clenched. His toes curled. A thin sheen of sweat gathered along his chest and temples, and his hair stuck to his forehead.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he heard his mother’s voice reciting the old sequence: Sin. Shame. Punishment. Hell.

Sin.

“Oh- ”

Shame.

“My.”

Punishment.

“Fucking.”

Hell.

“God!”

His hand moved faster, rougher, and his hips pushed up to meet it. He tried to breathe through the rising intensity, but each breath came out thin and uneven. His chest heaved. His throat worked around another moan, one that escaped before he could smother it.

The pressure climbed higher.

Michael’s eyes rolled back. His shoulders pressed into the mattress, and his fingers lost their careful grip on the bed.

He was close.

He knew that much, though he had no idea what ‘close’ meant or what would happen when he reached his destination. The uncertainty frightened him, but the coil winding in his belly washed the fear away. In its place, it left desperation.

Michael’s thighs trembled as he tensed. His mouth fell open, and the sound that came out was barely recognizable as his own.

Then the band snapped.

For a moment, Michael could do nothing but stare at the ceiling while he crashed into ecstasy. His hand stilled, and his ears began to ring. His overworked cock twitched once, then again, as hot sticky ropes of his essence spilled across his shirt.

He gasped as though he had surfaced from deep water, lungs burning, heart racing, with every muscle quivering.

As Michael came down, the world returned in pieces. The air conditioner hummed. Cars passed outside. Someone downstairs laughed at something on the television. A cabinet opened and closed. The ordinary sounds of life resumed as though nothing had happened.

It was a little jarring. The young man trying to catch his breath on the bed had just undergone a metamorphosis…of sorts, and the world didn’t even notice.

He lay very still, one hand curled beside his hip and the other resting uselessly against his forehead. His chest rose and fell beneath the fabric of his shirt. Sweat cooled along his skin. He felt emptied, stunned, and inexplicably robbed.

Perhaps even offended.

There was no thunder.

No voice from heaven.

No sudden certainty that he was damned.

Only a faint buzz in his bones and the devastating fact that he wanted to do it again.

Even though Michael was in the clouds, shame and guilt still took their places in his mind, much slower than he expected, only creeping over the edges of his satisfaction rather than swallowing it whole.

He thought of his mother and what she might think, which left him feeling deflated. He had let her down, and there was no way to take it back now.

On the other hand, he felt as though she had held this part of life out of his reach for her own peace of mind, not his well-being. Michael thought about everything she had told him over the years and wondered how much of it had been a lie meant to keep him safe.

‘Safe from what? My own body?’

The questions settled uneasily in his chest.

Then his thoughts drifted to his older brother’s laughter carrying through the halls. He imagined Jackie telling the story to everyone they knew. The teasing would be never-ending. Michael might have to change his identity to get away from it.

He covered his face with both hands.

“Oh, dear God,” he whispered.

Michael moved to change, still unsteady, when a different thought entered his mind.

The magazines.

His imagination had served its purpose this time, but he was definitely going to use those prints later.

By ‘later,’ I meant for the next week and a half.

Michael began to build a collection of his own, hiding the issues beneath his mattress, inside old instrument cases, and behind stacks of sheet music. He learned which stores kept their magazines near the back, which cashiers avoided eye contact, and which corners of his room offered the best privacy.

Women quickly became a central focus, second only to music.

The rising star learned that he truly did love every part of a woman’s body. He loved their breasts and curves. He loved the softness of a stomach, the shape of a mouth.

But their thighs…did they leave him weak.

Now, if there were ever a time to admit that Michael, budding connoisseur of skin and silhouette, had never been inside a woman, this would be it.

Despite all his night time rehearsals and the encyclopedic knowledge he had amassed from centerfolds, the truth was that he had spent more hours fantasizing about girls than actually talking to them.

He had never been kissed or touched anywhere worth mentioning.

Not that he hadn’t tried. He had, several times...over the past two years.

But whenever the opportunity presented itself, Michael’s soft demeanor and childlike tendencies led women to believe he only wanted a friend.

He listened too carefully, and smiled too politely. He asked questions and remembered the answers. He could spend an entire evening making a girl laugh and still somehow fail to communicate that he wanted her. By the time he realized she had been waiting for him to make a move, the moment had already passed.

He often found himself mourning the loss of all the pussy that had been thrown his way before he knew what to do with it.

Safe to say, it had been a long, cruel summer.

Now, standing at the edge of his porch, Michael watched the new girl across the street.

She was wrestling with a cardboard box nearly as wide as her hips. The box had been marked ‘KITCHEN’ in thick black letters, though the word had been written at an angle and was partly obscured by a strip of packing tape. She held it against her chest, arms wrapped around either side, while trying to maneuver up the short walkway toward the open garage.

Even from a distance, Michael could see the way her shorts bit into her thighs.

A damp stripe of sweat ran down her spine. Her cropped shirt exposed a narrow stretch of skin above the waistband of her shorts. Her hair was frizzy and moist from the heat, curling around her face and neck.

The same sweat that darkened her hairline ran down the side of her neck, over the swell of her breasts, and disappeared into her very visible cleavage.

Michael’s mouth ran dry.

He told himself he was only watching because she was struggling. That was the neighborly thing to do. A decent man noticed when someone needed help.

A less decent man noticed the way her hips shifted beneath the box.

Fuck.

He needed to think faster.

There were options. He could wait for her to drop the box and rush to her rescue, but that seemed corny, even for him. He could be casual, walk across the street pretending to check the mail, and strike up some neighborly conversation. That seemed too passive.

He could simply cross the street and offer to help.

The idea was so obvious that it immediately became terrifying.

Michael looked down at his clothes. Khakis, Mickey Mouse T-shirt, and his signature loafers. Nothing about the outfit seemed wrong, but suddenly every piece of it felt like evidence. He ran a hand down his face, then stopped when he remembered the girl might still be watching.

She wasn’t. Thank god.

She had shifted the box higher against her chest and was attempting to turn without dropping it.

Michael watched for another minute, psyching himself up. His heartbeat thudded so loudly he worried the girl might hear it from across the street. His palms turned clammy, and he wiped them against his jeans while rehearsing a smile in the dark reflection of the porch window.

The first smile looked strained.

The second looked frightened.

The third looked almost natural.

He settled for the third.

The box jostled in the girl’s arms. She staggered, caught herself against the side of the garage, and let out a curse loud enough to alert the neighborhood to her struggle.

Michael straightened; that was his opening.

The sun was blinding, so he squinted and shaded his eyes with one hand as he stepped off the porch. The girl stopped struggling for a moment and looked up, catching him staring.

For a split second, Michael considered retreating, but something stubborn rooted him to the sidewalk. He offered a wave, then crossed the street in a few quick, awkward strides. Each step felt more deliberate than the last. By the time he reached the curb, he had forgotten every sentence he had rehearsed.

By the time he reached the driveway…he had forgotten how to stand normally.

As he drew closer, the girl readjusted the box and huffed.

“You here to watch me break my back?” she asked, voice sharp.

Michael released an awkward laugh. He wasn’t used to people speaking to him like he was normal.

“No, no, jus’— uh, looked like you needed some help, that’s all.”

The girl raised an eyebrow, squinting at him through the sweat. “No offense, sugar, but you don’t look like you’d fare much better than me.”

Michael glanced down at his arms. Though not particularly impressive, years of dancing had given him strength, but not the kind that showed itself in broad shoulders or thick biceps.

“Well, four noodle arms are better than two,” he replied, surprised by the bite in his own voice.

She laughed, shrugging one shoulder.

“Fair point. Grab that end there, then.”

Michael stepped forward and took the opposite side of the box. The cardboard was warm beneath his fingers, its edges soft from being handled too many times. He leaned into the weight, careful not to crowd her, though the narrow driveway made that difficult.

“Ready?” he asked.

“Unless you plan on standing there all day,” she quipped.

“Right. Yeah. On three?” He questioned.

“Just lift.” She huffed

The box rose unevenly, forcing Michael to adjust his grip. Together they shuffled up the walk, the girl moving backward while Michael tried not to trip over his own feet. He could smell her now beneath the dust and cardboard: soap, sweat, and something sweet he could not identify.

He kept his eyes on the box.

Mostly.

“Left,” she instructed.

Michael moved left.

“No, my left.”

“Right. Sorry.”

“You’re doing great, honey.”

He heard the sarcasm in her voice and felt heat climb his neck.

“I’m usually better with directions.”

“I’m sure you are.”

They made it into the open garage, where the shadows were cool, and the air smelled like dust and old paint. The box thudded to the floor between them.

Michael straightened, breathing hard.

The girl stretched, lifting both arms overhead. Her shirt rose just enough to reveal a lace pattern covering her bosom. Something stirred deep within the man before her.

The girl dropped her arms and caught him looking, but not at her face. Michael's neck burned as he shifted his gaze down to the concrete, then to the rafters, then to a rusted rake leaning in the corner. Anywhere but the lace he had just memorized for…later use.

He had looked at women in magazines, studied them with the concentration of a scholar. Curves, poses, and proportions all committed to memory without any regard for the subject in the photo.

This was different, though. The heat radiating from her skin, the rise and fall of her chest with each breath, the faint pulse visible at her throat, everything about this girl overwhelmed his senses.

Michael had never been this close to a woman before. Alone, with the afternoon sun slanting through the garage windows and his heart hammering a rhythm that had nothing to do with music.

He forced his eyes back to her face. She was watching him with a knowing look, one eyebrow raised, waiting for him to speak.

"My name's y/n," she said, wiping her palms against her shorts. "And you're the neighborhood welcome wagon, I guess?"

"Michael." The name came out cracked, as if he were once again a prepubescent boy. He cleared his throat and hoped she didn’t notice. "Uh, Jackson. I live across the street."

Recognition flickered in her eyes. "Michael Jackson? Like the singer? Jackson five, Michael Jackson?"

Unease settled under his skin. He’d had interactions like this before, and they always seemed to end in the other party being put off or disappointed by his current appearance.

"That's... yeah. That's me."

She laughed, bright and surprised. "Well, I’ll be damned! I move to the suburbs and get a superstar to do manual labor. What a treat!"

Michael chuckled softly and thought about what she said.

"Not a superstar yet," he mumbled, looking down at his loafers. "I’m normal too, y’know."

"Normal, huh?" She said the word like she was tasting it. "S’that what you call it?"

Y/n turned toward the interior door, hips swaying beautifully.

Michael watched the movement without meaning to. Her backside beneath those shorts mixed with the casual power of a woman who had never been taught to shrink herself, and she was doing things to him.

"You comin’ Mr. Normal?" she called over her shoulder. "Still gotta get the box into the kitchen!"

Michael took in a deep breath and grabbed the heavy container. It was a struggle, but it didn’t stop his feet from moving without permission. The house smelled of lemon-scented cleaner and stale air. Boxes towered in the hallway, branded with what he assumed to be her handwriting.

Y/n navigated between them with the confidence of someone who had done this before, many times. She pushed through a swinging door and emerged into a kitchen frozen in 1962.

"Nice, huh?" She asked, leaning against the island and looking out of the window above the sink. As she took in the view, the young woman noticed something, and a small grin formed on her face. "Bet you get a real pretty sunset from over there."

Michael's pulse hammered. He looked at her, really looked, and found her watching him with the same knowing eyes from before.

"I wasn't-" he started.

"Yes, you were." She dragged as she pushed off the counter and stepped closer, close enough that the man could smell something tropical and fruity. “Question is, what were you thinking while you watched?"

Michael's mouth opened then closed, like a fish out of water.

"Just uh— Wondering who was moving in," he managed. "Being neighborly."

"Neighborly?" She laughed, a low sound that vibrated somewhere in his chest. “ Is that right?"

She turned away, opening the box he’d brought in, finding the glasses. "Want some water? It's all I got."

Michael nodded frantically and squeaked out a soft "Please."

She filled two glasses from the tap and handed him one. Their fingers brushed, and Michael, who felt the contact like a spark, fought to control his expression into polite neutrality.

"So," she began, leaning against the counter again. "Michael Jackson, from across the street. What do you do when you're not helping strangers move in?"

He laughed through his nose while his fingers danced against his glass. "Recording. Touring. Trying to figure out what comes next."

"Off the Wall just came out, right? It’s so good!" She assured, trying her hardest not to scare him off.

"Thanks." He felt the familiar warmth of praise, but it was different coming from her. More personal. "Means a lot."

Before too much silence could settle between them, Michael decided it was his turn to ask a question. "What about you? Why’d you move here?"

Y/N sighed, rolling the glass between her palms. "Work. Marketing at a firm downtown. Better pay, better title, less chaos than Chicago."

"Big change," he murmured, keeping his voice light. "Suburbs are quieter."

"That's the point." She laughed, bright and easy. "I needed quiet, and a place where no one knows my business."

Michael nodded, understanding. He understood needing space. He understood the relief of anonymity.

"Must’ve been hard," he spoke softly, "Moving all this way alone with no one to help you get set up."

"I managed." y/n’s chin lifted slightly, almost defensive. "I've always managed on my own."

"I'm sure you have." He paused, let the silence stretch. Then, casually, "But…your man didn't want to come help?"

Y/N's laugh was dry this time, almost bitter. "No man, pretty boy. Just me.”

Michael feigned shock, eyebrows lifting, mouth opening slightly. "Really? I just assumed someone like you— I mean, you must have-"

"Have what?" Her tone carried a playful edge. "A nigga waitin’ in the wings? Someone to carry my boxes and kill my spiders?"

"No! I didn't mean-" Michael’s eyes widened, and he held up his hands, the picture of apology. "I just meant you're— well, you’re beautiful and successful. So, I figured there had to be someone."

"Nope." She popped the P, sharp and final. "My last relationship ended six months ago. He wanted me to shrink myself to fit his lifestyle. I don't shrink for nobody."

Michael held her gaze for a moment longer than necessary. Something shifted in his expression, so subtle she might have imagined it. The boyish charm dimmed. The downcast eyes lifted. The young woman had piqued his interest from the moment he saw her, but now she had his full attention.

"So what's your type then?" he asked, voice low and steady. The question landed between them like a stone thrown into still water.

Y/N blinked. "What?"

"Your type." He repeated, setting his glass down on the counter with a soft clink. "I'm jus’ curious about what kinda man does get to have you."

He began to move, unhurried, almost casual. The way he rounded her form seemed innocent enough. However, there was nothing innocent in his eyes. She saw it just a bit too late. The shift from prey to predator, the moment the mask slipped.

His hands found her waist, and she flinched, surprised by the warmth of him, the sudden proximity. His palms slid down, slow and deliberate, coming to rest on the fat of her hips.

Michael leaned down, just enough for his breath to fan against her ear. She felt caged between his arms and the counter in front of her.

"What's your type, Ms. y/n?"

She choked. Actually choked.

This was not the sweet man who had stumbled across the street with a timbre as soft as dandelions and an awkward smile. This was something else entirely. When she spun around to face him, she found the eyes of a predator watching its prey, patient and hungry.

"I thought-" she stammered, pressed against the counter, his arms bracketing her in. "I thought you were a good boy. Y’know, shy…reserved—"

Michael smiled, already aware of how she’d been viewing him, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

"I might just be the farthest thing from it, mama."

His voice lowered an octave, rough velvet against her skin as he continued. "I'm curious though."

He leaned down again. His lips brushed the spot behind her ear, soft as a whisper, and she felt the contact shoot straight to her core. He pulled back just enough to meet her eyes.

"How good can you be?"

She made a sound-half gasp, half whimper-and then his mouth was on hers.

It wasn’t gentle. It was claiming, demanding, his tongue sweeping past her lips to taste her fully. His hands tightened on her hips and pulled her flush against him, and she felt it then-the hard length of him pressed against her stomach, thick and substantial even through denim. Her hands found his shoulders, gripping hard, and she kissed him back with equal ferocity. It was messy, anything but innocent. An all-out battle of teeth and tongue that Y/n was losing quickly.

"Bedroom," she rasped between kisses.

Y/n grabbed his hand and pulled him through the hallway, past rows of boxes, through a door that led to room barely unpacked. The bed was the only thing she had managed to get together. She turned and pulled him down with her, and they landed in a tangle of limbs and desperate mouths.

Michael pulled back, breathing hard. He looked at her sprawled beneath him, hair wild, lips swollen, and something dark and triumphant flickered in his expression.

"Off." he said, fingers hooking in the hem of her top.

Y/N lifted her arms as he stripped the fabric over her head and tossed it aside. His gaze raked over her, the bra he had seen earlier now fully exposed, her breasts rising and falling with her rapid breaths.

"Oh," he breathed, and the sound was almost reverent. "Oh, you're... you're perfect."

He descended on her again, mouth finding her neck, her collarbone, the swell of her breasts above the lace. He pushed the cups down and took her left nipple into his mouth, sucking hard, and she arched off the mattress with a sinful cry of his name.

"Michael-"

He switched to the other breast, teeth grazing sensitive flesh, and his hands were everywhere. Sliding down her ribs, gripping her waist. Finding the button of her shorts, he popped them open, dragged the zipper down, and pulled the denim off her legs with rough efficiency.

The lace panties matched the bra. He paused, looking down at her, and she saw his throat work as he swallowed. The damp spot at her core pulled a garbled sound from his chest.

"Jesus," he whispered, mostly to himself. "You're so wet. Can you... can you feel how wet you are? All this for me?"

Y/n nodded silently with hooded eyes, begging for him to touch her.

Michael hooked his fingers in the lace and pulled. The fabric tore. She gasped, shocked by the violence of it, and then his mouth was on her, and she forgot everything.

There wasn’t a shred of hesitancy to be found. He feasted on her like a man starved, tongue sweeping through her folds to find her clit, circling it with devastating precision. Y/N's hands flew to his hair, gripping tight, and she ground against his face with abandon.

"Michael, fuck, right there, don't stop-"

He didn't. He actually doubled his efforts, sliding two fingers into her tight heat, curling them to find the spot that made her see stars. No amount of money, or any composition Quincy cooked up, could compare to the sounds falling from her lips. Michael was a goner.

"You're so sweet," he murmured against her, the vibration making her shudder. "So sweet, baby. Knew you would be. Mhmm, knew you'd taste like this."

The man continued to babble on about y/n’s pussy, and how it had to have been a gift from god, but she couldn’t hear any of that. She was close, so close, climbing fast. He felt it in her thighs, the rhythm of her hips, the way her nails scored his scalp.

"Let go," he commanded, looking up at her with dark eyes, her arousal glistening on his chin. "I want to feel you cum on my tongue. Give it to me, mama."

His words cast a spell that left her dizzy. Her back arched off the mattress, and a strangled yelp tore from her throat as pleasure crashed through her in waves. It wasn’t enough for the beast between her legs. He kept going, desperate to drink her up before she ran dry.

The overstimulation caught y/n off gaurd; she wasn’t used to being pushed past her limit like this. In the midst of the aftershocks came another wave of bliss. Her release flooded his mouth and chin, and she couldn't stop, couldn't control it. All she could do was ride out her high as he kept fucking her with his fingers, drawing it out until she was sobbing his name.

"Michael, Michael, please, I can't-"

He finally relented, pulling back with a wicked smile. He wiped his chin with the back of his hand, never breaking eye contact.

"That's one," he cooed, soft and sweet.

‘One?’ She thought, ‘surely that was two.’

Y/N lay panting, boneless, watching through half-lidded eyes as he stripped off his own clothes. The t-shirt went first, revealing a lean torso, dancer's muscles defined beneath smooth skin. Then his jeans, and his cock sprang free, thick and heavy and impossibly long, curving up toward his stomach.

The woman stared with wide eyes. She couldn't help it. He was bigger than any man she’d ever been with, thick enough that her fingers wouldn't close around him, long enough that the thought of taking him fully made her clench with equal parts fear and want.

"See something you like?" he teased, wrapping his hand around himself and stroking slowly, his voice breathy and soft.

"You're going to split me in half," she breathed.

"Godwilling, baby."

He crawled over her, cock dragging against her thigh, and claimed her mouth again. She tasted herself on his tongue, musky and intimate, and moaned into the kiss. His hands roamed her body with possessive hunger, squeezing her breasts, gripping her hips, sliding down to hitch her legs around her waist.

"C-condom," she sputtered. "In my purse, the box by the-"

"I've got it." He reached to the floor, found his jeans and produced a foil packet from his wallet. She watched him roll it on, the latex stretching tight over his considerable length, and felt fresh arousal pool between her thighs despite the orgasms still echoing through her.

He positioned himself at her entrance, the broad head nudging against her slick folds. He didn't push in. He teased, dragging himself through her wetness, tapping her clit until she was writhing beneath him.

"Michael, please-"

"Please what?" He leaned down, breath hot against her ear. "Tell Mikey what you want, baby."

"Fuck me," she gasped. "Please, I need you inside me, I need—"

In one long stroke, Michael buried himself to the hilt, and y/n screamed, back arching, her nails raking down his frame. He was so big, so fucking big, stretching her impossibly full, and the burn of it was perfect, exactly what she needed.

"Oh," he groaned, forehead dropping to her shoulder. His voice was high as he dragged himself out just to the tip, "Oh, God, you're so tight. So tight around me, baby. Feels so good."

He started moving. Slow at first, letting her adjust to his size, each thrust dragging against every nerve inside her. Then faster, deeper, his hips snapping against hers with increasing force. The mattress creaked beneath them. The room filled with the sounds of skin on skin, their ragged breathing, Y/N's desperate cries and Michael's soft, breathy whimpers.

"Look at me," he commanded, gripping her chin and forcing her eyes to his. "Look at me while I make love to you. I want to see your face when you cum for me."

She held his gaze, transfixed by the intensity there, the raw hunger mixed with something almost vulnerable. This was the real Michael, she realized.

He shifted his angle, stomach grinding against her clit with every thrust, and she felt it begin again, that delicious heat licking against her body.

"Michael, I'm gonna-"

"Not yet." He pulled out abruptly, ignoring her cry of protest, and flipped her onto her stomach. "On your knees, baby."

She scrambled to comply, ass in the air, face pressed to the mattress. He gripped her hips and slammed back into her, deeper from this angle, hitting places that made her vision blur.

"Touch yourself," he ordered, one hand fisting in her hair and pulling her head back. "I want to feel you come with my cock inside you. Do it now, sweetheart."

Her hand flew between her legs, fingers finding her clit, circling frantically. The combined sensation-his thick length pounding into her, his grip in her hair, her own fingers working her sensitive flesh-was overwhelming.

She felt it building, a tidal wave of pleasure that threatened to drown her. It was far too much for y/n to handle. She clawed at the edge of the mattress, pulling herself away from the intoxicating pleasure. Her chest met the plush carpet, and she thought she had been granted a moment of peace.

Instead, she’d found that Michael had followed her down. One of his large hands tangled in her curls, while the other pinned her hips to the edge of the bed. Once he had her secured, Michael drove into her walls like a madman. The sounds of their pleasure bounced off the empty walls.

‘Shlick. Shlick. Shlick.’

“No, honey, don’t run.” He begged, nearly whimpering as he continued his assault. “Take it. Supposed to be good f’me, remember?”

Y/n didn’t realize just how much she had underestimated the man above her. Her own pleas fell on deaf ears. It wasn’t until she tensed that he began to listen again.

"Michael, I can't-I'm going to-"

"Now," he growled, removing his hand from her hair and bringing his arm around her throat. Michael’s thrusts were so deep she felt him in her lungs.

"Cum for me now, baby. Let me feel it."

By his command, she exploded. Her release crashed through her with violent force, body convulsing, and inner walls clamping down on him so hard he groaned. Again, y/n soaked them both. Whatever was left of her didn’t even attempt to run from the pleasure again.

Michael kept pounding into her, strokes becoming erratic and desperate. With a brutal snap of his hips, he pulled her completely off the bed. They tumbled onto the floor in a tangle of limbs, Michael landing on top of her, still buried deep inside. The carpet burned against her knees, but she didn't care. He was fucking her into the floor now, hips snapping with renewed urgency, the angle even deeper, hitting places that made her scream.

"Michael-"

"One more," he gasped, breath hot against her neck. "Please, jus’ one more, baby. I want to feel you come apart for me one more time."

His hand slid around to find her abused clit, rubbing in tight, desperate circles as he pounded into her from behind. She was so sensitive, so overstimulated, but his fingers were magic, and his dick was hitting that perfect spot and-

She came again, even harder than before, her vision whiting out, her entire body seizing. She felt him follow seconds later, his thrusts losing all rhythm, becoming wild and uncontrolled. He buried himself deep and came with a cry that was half whimper, half whine, cock twitching inside her walls as he filled the rubber.

For a few uninterrupted moments, the couple lay there on the floor, panting and tangled together. The afternoon sun slanted through the window, painting gold across their skin. Michael rolled off of the woman, and pressed lazy kisses to her shoulder, her neck, the shell of her ear. He promised that she did so good, and gently pulled himself from her core. He tied off the condom, and moved to discard it in a small trashcan near the door.

"So," he murmured, voice hoarse and satisfied. "How's that for neighborly?"

Y/N laughed, breathless and giddy. "I think I need to move more often."

"I hope that was okay," he said softly, fingers tracing patterns on her back, "I've never... I mean, that was my first time. With anyone."

Y/N propped herself up on one elbow, staring at him. "What?"

"I've never been with anyone before." He looked almost shy now, the predator completely gone, the boyish uncertainty flickering back full force. "I just... with you, I couldn't help myself. I wanted you so bad. M’sorry if it was too much."

She stared at him, stunned. "Michael. You just— you rearranged my guts. And you mean to tell me…that was your first time?"

He nodded, biting his lip, and she saw his eyes dart around the room, landing everywhere but on her. He was fidgeting, picking at a loose thread on the sheet, glancing toward the door, the window, the pile of boxes in the corner.

"Hey," she said, catching his chin and turning his face back to hers. "What's wrong?"

He swallowed hard. "I just... I wanted to ask you something, and I'm nervous."

"Ask me what?"

"Will you... would you maybe want to go to dinner with me sometime? Like, on a date?"

Y/N stared at him for a full three seconds. Then she cackled. Full, loud, uncontrolled laughter that shook her whole body and made her clutch her stomach.

"Oh my God," she gasped. "You just fucked me like I owed you money, and now you're scared to ask me to dinner?"

Michael flushed crimson, burying his face in his hands. "I know, I know, it's stupid but-"

"It's adorable!" She poked his ribs, still laughing. "Michael Jackson, international superstar, undercover pornstar, can't ask a girl on a date."

"I've never been on a date," he mumbled into his palms.

She laughed harder. "You've never had pussy either, but that didn't stop you from diving in face first!"

"Hey!" He grabbed a pillow and smacked her with it, his eyes bright with embarrassed amusement. "That's not fair! I was very respectful about your... your..."

"My pussy?"

"Stop saying that!" He hit her with the pillow again, but he was grinning now, the tension broken. "Just answer the question, woman. Will you go to dinner with me or not?"

Y/N's laughter died down to a soft chuckle. She looked at him and saw a sweet, dominant, whimpering, confident boy who had just given her the best orgasms of her life, who was now blushing like a virgin because he wanted to buy her a meal.

‘How backward,’ she thought.

"Yes," y/n said, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his lips. "I'll go to dinner with you. You're spending the night though. I'm not done with you."

Michael rolled his eyes, but his smile was pure sunshine. "I was gonna do that anyway, mama. You think I'm leavin’ after all that? I finally found out what all the fuss was about. I'm stayin’ right here."

He pulled her down beside him, tangling their legs together, and pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Besides, someone has to help you unpack all those boxes."

"Four noodle arms are better than two?"

"Exactly." He grinned against her hair. "And just so you know, I'm way better with directions in bed than I am with moving furniture."

Y/N laughed, curling into his warmth. "Prove it."

"Give me five minutes," he murmured, already half-asleep. "Then I'll prove it twice."

She laughed harder, burying her face in his chest. "Michael."

"What?"

"You said 'four noodle arms' when we met."

"So?"

"You tossed me around like it was nothin', Mikey."

He opened one eye, looking down at her with a smug smile. "I told you, baby. I'm the farthest thing from a good boy."

"Yeah, yeah." She yawned, settling against him. "Save it for our date, Casanova."

"Casanova?" He made a face. "Cassanova doesn’t hold a candle to me"

"How about 'Freak', huh?" y/n teased.

"I can work with that." He yawned, pulling her in closer.

Michael fell asleep there on the floor with a smile on his face, and only one thought on his mind.

‘God, I love pussy.’

TAGLIST (CLOSED!): @pinkkycherrish @hismainchic @jeyusosglasses @junkie05 @buckybarnessweetheart @ether3alglory @soimightlikeoldmen69 @queenofchelsea @chaotuics @arithescorpio @myhobari @niyahctrl @mxnijuana @freshbonggwater @spencerreidismyhusband123 @mrsj4cks0n @tauroist @watamotee33 @delictezz @bbcouture-69 @enzo6ekiiii @fortuncooki @jurneeblogs @justalocallesbian @sexyslutprincess @darkseidex @neighbourscat @lov3lylxvender @simpllytea @timae444 @lunarexperttrace @peacemakersbeloved @uh444 @mjsfavouritefish @totallylucidzzz @swavydadon @brxght-world @plan3tch1ld @shutupzela @honeysfavoritemuse @bluebiva @lotusflwss @gnabnahcsworld @fizzycakepop @kneelarmhstrung @michaelsbabymother @cozygirljay @yourlocalpyt @backlikearash2 @xyahx 🩷

“mama?” the sound of Michael’s soft yet exhausted voice echoed throughout your shared home as he stepped inside and shut the front door behind him, lazily turning the lock with his fingertips and letting out a quiet sigh, “where are you, baby?”

pausing your late-night raid of the fridge, you immediately emerged from the kitchen and headed towards the door, your eyes landing on Michael and taking in his appearance. his curls were messy and evidently sweated out and his red shirt was tucked in on one side and hanging freely on the other, a pair of black slacks and his signature loafers adorning his lower half.

you could tell rehearsals had worn him out just by the way he called for you, but once you really looked at him, it only confirmed your suspicions.

“hey there, angel.” you smiled warmly as Michael’s expression softened and he pulled you into his embrace, his long arms wrapping around your waist and pulling you flush against him while he buried his face in the crook of your neck.

“hi,” Michael whispered, deeply inhaling your scent, as he sighed heavily in contentment and a soft hum instantly followed the sound, his hands sliding down to the small of your back to pull you even closer, “mm, y’smell so good…”

“i got out of the shower almost an hour ago,” you giggled, wrapping your arms around his neck, as Michael nuzzled his face into your neck and his nose pressed into your skin, a throaty groan falling from his lips and vibrating against you, “Michael, what’s up with you tonight? stop sniffin’ me.”

Michael let out another soft hum in response and he raised his head from your neck to look at you again, except this time, he gave you a real slow once-over. you wore your signature bonnet and a muumuu, the flowy garment still managing to outline your breasts, hips, and ass. your melanated skin was moisturized and held a glow, making you look like an absolute goddess in Michael’s eyes.

not to mention, the amazing smell of your body wash and perfume lingering on your skin… you were about to make Michael lose all his inhibitions tonight and didn’t even realize it.

“you’re so beautiful, mama,” Michael murmured in admiration, his gaze flickering back to your face, as one of his hands left your back to cradle your jaw and his thumb gently caressed your cheek, “so gorgeous all the time.”

“baby, i’m dressed for bed. how beautiful could i be right now?” you laughed, instinctively leaning into his touch, as Michael ignored your question and leaned closer to you, pressing soft kisses against the cheek his hand wasn’t on and slowly inching his way towards your mouth.

once he got close enough, he kissed the corner of your lips before capturing them into a slow kiss, causing you to melt into him almost instantly. your lips moved in tandem with his and one of your hands reached for his tie as you tugged at it and pulled him impossibly closer, earning a soft whimper from him while his fingers tightened against the small of your back.

the kiss lasted for another minute before you slowly pulled back from it and looked at him, watching his eyes flutter open and meet yours with an undeniable look of desire. without saying a word, you slightly tightened your grip on his tie and led him into the living room, listening to the sound of his footsteps trailing behind you like he was a lost puppy.

once you reached the couch, you pulled Michael in front of you and gently pushed down as you watched him flop back onto the cushions with wide eyes, those big brown irises staring up at you as if you had hung the moon and the stars for him. you stood between his opened legs and looked at him silently for a moment before slowly dropping to your knees, earning an abrupt gasp from the man above you.

“w-wait,” Michael suddenly spoke, his hands reaching down to cover yours on his thighs, as a small timid smile spread across his face and he let out a soft bashful chuckle, “mama… i-i don’t want you down there doin’ that while i’m all sweaty and stuff. i should shower first or somethin’ before you… you know…”

your eyebrows slightly rose at his suggestion and an unashamed grin formed on your face as you gently removed your hands from underneath his and grabbed his hands instead, moving them to the side and reaching for the waistband of his pants.

“Michael… baby, i don’t give a damn,” you chuckled bluntly, earning a blink of disbelief from him, as your fingers grabbed ahold of the button on his slacks and you paused there, keeping your gaze on his face, “you’ve been so stressed lately and i wanna do somethin’ to relax you. can i do that for you, angel?”

Michael parted his lips to speak but nothing came out as he stared down at you, internally debating on whether he should let you continue or if he should shower first to ease his self-consciousness about his smell — however, contrary to what he was thinking, he actually didn’t smell bad at all. reluctantly, his mouth closed and he swallowed hard as he slowly nodded his head, earning a wide satisfied smile from you.

you unbuttoned his slacks and pulled them and his boxers down just enough to free his erection, his dick springing free and slapping his abdomen as he sighed softly at the relief. moving closer to him, you wrapped a hand around his base and guided him to your mouth as you licked the underside of him and dragged your tongue up to the tip, tasting the salty sweat along every inch of him.

a broken gasp fell from Michael’s mouth at the action and his jaw slightly dropped as he watched you closely, his breathing quickening in anticipation. once your tongue reached his tip, you licked the bead of pre-cum that was oozing from the slit and his hips jerked involuntarily, making a small smirk cross your face.

“p-please, baby…” Michael whimpered softly, wanting more of him inside your mouth, as your smirk widened and you looked up at him, keeping your gaze fixated on your face while you opened your mouth wide and took him in as deep as possible.

a prolonged needy moan left Michael’s vocals as he watched you take him in, your mouth completely engulfing him and your tongue wrapping around him to taste every inch of him you could. you suppressed your gag reflex to your best ability and started breathing through your nose instead as you hollowed out your cheeks and rested your hands on Michael’s thighs for stability, beginning to suck him off at a steady pace.

you’d raise your lips all the way to his tip and suck on it for a few seconds before lowering back down to his base, your nose grazing his pelvis with each bob of your head. Michael’s moans and whines filled the room and echoed off of the walls as his head leaned back against the couch and his jaw went slack, his mouth hanging open while his chest heavily heaved up and down.

one of his hands cradled the nape of your neck and the other tightly gripped the couch cushions, a whimper falling from his lips as he relished in the feeling of your warm mouth around his dick. pulling off of him with a soft ‘pop!’, you wrapped both of your hands around him and started to jerk him off as you focused your attention on the tip of his dick, spitting on it to add more lubrication before wrapping your mouth around it and sucking on it hungrily.

“o-oh, God… mmh, mamaaa, t-that feels s’good…” Michael whined, his fingers splaying across the back of your neck, as his head lazily raised and he looked down at you with hooded eyes, watching you stroke and suck him off with blown pupils, “a-ah!— nnnngh, m’so close, baby… p-please don’t st-stop, darlin’…”

you met his gaze and maintained eye contact with him as you removed one of your hands and replaced it with your mouth, bobbing your head at a quick pace and stroking the rest of him that wouldn’t fit in your mouth — despite the fact that you’d taken all of him in your mouth just a few minutes ago. your free hand slid down to his balls and you fondled them in your palm as Michael’s mouth fell open further and his noises shifted into whines of your name and desperate whimpers, his hips starting to buck up into your mouth and the veins on his dick starting to throb against your tongue and lips.

“ohhhh, pleasepleaseplease— a-ah, f-fuuuuck!” a string of whimpered pleas and a sudden spew of profanity fell from Michael’s agape mouth as his head lolled back for a second time and he came inside your mouth, his hips jerking more rapidly than before while he emptied his load against your tongue and down your throat.

your movements slowed and you worked him through his climax as you raised your mouth off of him and swallowed his seed before lowering your tongue to his tip and softly lapping at it, licking him clean and earning a weak whimper from him. slipping your tongue back inside your mouth, you looked up at him and grinned at the fucked-out look on his face as you licked your lips before biting down on your bottom lip, both your hands slowly coming to a stop and slipping his now softened dick back inside his boxers.

slowly raising his head, Michael looked down at you with a small smile of bliss and he guided you onto his lap by his grip on the back of your neck as he pulled you into a deep kiss, tasting himself on your lips and tongue. the kiss lasting for what felt like eternity before Michael broke it and he looked up at you, his eyes studying your face before he chuckled quietly.

“you so dirty, mama…”

TAGLIST (CLOSED!): @pinkkycherrish @hismainchic @jeyusosglasses @junkie05 @buckybarnessweetheart @ether3alglory @soimightlikeoldmen69 @queenofchelsea @chaotuics @arithescorpio @myhobari @niyahctrl @mxnijuana @freshbonggwater @spencerreidismyhusband123 @mrsj4cks0n @tauroist @watamotee33 @delictezz @bbcouture-69 @enzo6ekiiii @fortuncooki @jurneeblogs @justalocallesbian @tonguetiedtempted @darkseidex @neighbourscat @lov3lylxvender @simpllytea @timae444 @lunarexperttrace @peacemakersbeloved @uh444 @mjsfavouritefish @totallylucidzzz @swavydadon @brxght-world @plan3tch1ld @shutupzela @someonessoulrecord @bluebiva @lotusflwss @gnabnahcsworld @angelroary @kneelarmhstrung @michaelsbabymother @cozygirljay @yourlocalpyt @backlikearash2 @xyahx 🩷

“baby… do you smell that?” you asked, a small furrow forming between your eyebrows, as you shifted slightly and raised your head from Michael’s chest, your head turning towards your closed bedroom door while the sweet aroma of baked goods filled your nostrils.

Michael’s eyes lingered on you for a moment before flickering towards the door as well, and his nostrils flared as he sniffed the air curiously, wondering what you meant. once that same sweet scent hit him, he sat up against your headboard and you followed his lead absentmindedly, both of you seemingly hypnotized by the scent that was starting to intensely seep into your room.

“yeah… smells like brownies.” Michael answered softly, his eyes leaving the door and focusing back onto you, as your eyes lit up and you quickly grabbed Michael’s hand before getting off of your bed, pulling him along with you and leaving your bedroom with haste.

you walked down the stairs eagerly and Michael followed you with ease, keeping up with every quick step you took until both of you made it to the bottom step. you had a really big sweet tooth and Michael knew that, so he didn’t question why you were moving as quick as you were — he just made it his mission to keep up with you.

once in the kitchen, both of you spotted the pan of warm and freshly-baked brownies sitting on the counter, left there by your older sister to presumably let them cool off. they were evenly cut into twelve squares and an empty tupperware container sat next to them, which was obviously there for her to put the brownies in once they did cool.

“wanna sneak a few before she comes to check on ‘em?” you asked, a cheeky grin spreading across your face, as you looked over at Michael and pulled him along with you to the kitchen counter, moving closer to the sweet treat that was practically waiting for you to sink your teeth into it.

“are you sure?” Michael asked timidly, his eyes flickering between you and the pan of brownies, as he bashfully rubbed the back of his neck with his unoccupied hand, “i mean, shouldn’t we ask her first?—”

“Mikey, it’ll be fine, she won’t be mad. i do stuff like this all the time and all she does is pop my hand,” you giggled as you carefully extracted one of the brownies from the pan and gently split it in half, handing one of the halves to Michael, “here, it’s okay. if she does get mad, then i’ll take the blame for draggin’ you down here— well, she’ll blame me anyway ‘cause you’re like an angel to her.”

Michael let out a soft giggle and reluctantly grabbed the half from your fingers as he looked at it for a moment before lifting it to his mouth and taking a bite, chewing it tentatively before suddenly freezing in place with wide eyes.

“oh! oh, gosh, this is wonderful,” Michael gushed in awe, resuming his chewing, as you smiled widely at him and let out a soft laugh before biting into your own half, watching him swallow his bite and immediately go for another, “mm, it’s baked jus’ right… it’s all moist and fudge-y and stuff…”

you giggled at his explanation, finding his fascination with a simple brownie the cutest thing ever, and the two of you engaged in easy conversation as you not-so sneakily ate your sister’s brownies. one brownie turned into two, then two turned into three, and now there were only nine brownies left in the pan instead of the original twelve.

however, in the midst of the two of you eating your third brownie, that was when your sister appeared in the doorway, but she immediately froze at the sight of the two of you indulging in her baked goods, her eyes wide as she looked between the two of you in horror.

both of you were completely oblivious to her presence, too wrapped up in your conversation and the delicious taste of the brownies to consider your surroundings, but the moment your sister said your name to get your attention, you damn near jumped out of your skin when your head turned towards her.

“okay… how many of those did y’all just eat?” your sister asked cautiously, her eyebrows raising, as she looked between the two of you again before walking further into the kitchen towards the other side of the counter.

“we ate three,” you answered casually, confused by her tone, as your eyebrows slightly furrowed and you looked over at Michael before looking back at your sister, “why’d you ask it like that? are you mad or somethin’?—”

“three?!” your sister abruptly exclaimed, her eyebrows furrowing, as she quickly grabbed the pan and pulled it towards her, confirming that you and Michael had definitely eaten three of her brownies, “girl, you— there’s weed in these!”

you blinked in surprise and immediately stiffened up, along with Michael — whose eyes were about to shoot out of their sockets — as the two of you silently watched your sister take the brownies out of the pan and put them in the tupperware container that was beside the pan, neither of you daring to say a word after the revelation she casted on you.

after your sister put the rest of the brownies in the container, she secured the lid and rested her hands on it as her gaze shifted to you and Michael, looking at the two of you quietly for a moment before letting out a hearty laugh that pulled both of you from your frozen state.

“y’all… are gon’ be high as hell in a few minutes,” she giggled, shaking her head, as she tucked the container under her arm and stepped back from the countertop, “i made these for me and my homegirls, but i should’ve known you’d sneak down here and eat ‘em before i could put ‘em away.”

“see what happens when you do things you ain’t ‘posed to do?” your sister taunted, raising her eyebrows, as she grinned widely and raised her index finger to point at you for a moment before gesturing between the two of you, “i’m ‘bout to leave, so i hope y’all don’t eat up the kitchen when the munchies kick in while i’m gone.”

your sister teasingly waved both of you goodbye before she slipped out of the kitchen and headed down the hall, the sound of the front door opening and closing symbolizing her departure and leaving a deafening silence in place of her presence. you and Michael stood quietly and stiffly in place as you slowly turned your heads to look at each other, both of you realizing there was no way to prevent what was inevitably going to take place.

“mama… i’ve never been high before,” Michael confessed quietly, almost sheepishly, and he ran his tongue over his lips as he swallowed hard, nervous for his first time being under the influence of drugs, “i’ve never… never done that kind of stuff before.”

“well, i haven’t either… but i’m sure we’ll be okay if we just… stick together and help each other through the high.” you suggested, a small reassuring smile crossing your face, as Michael looked at you for a moment before slowly nodding his head and cracking a small lopsided smile, making your smile widen while you gently grabbed ahold of his hand and led the two of you back upstairs to your room.

your first time high wouldn’t be too bad… right?

an hour later, both of you were high out of your minds. you laid on Michael’s chest and listened to the sound of his heartbeat while one of your arms rested across his torso, your fingertips gently gliding up and down his side. your gaze rested on the TV at the foot of your bed, though you weren’t really watching it — you were just staring at it, seemingly entranced by the animation showing.

meanwhile, Michael was staring up at the ceiling with an unreadable expression, completely dissociating from reality. he’d blink whenever his eyes got dry, but other than that, he didn’t move a muscle. his arm rested around your waist and his fingers slightly curled against your side, the digits occasionally twitching here and there.

the two of you laid there completely silent, as if taking in the new experience of being under the influence, and you felt Michael’s fingers twitch against you for what felt like the millionth time as his hand slowly shifted its position and he grabbed ahold of your hip, his fingers splaying across it before he gently squeezed it.

“mama?” Michael called out in a soft murmur, prompting you to raise your head from his chest, as you looked at him and his eyes immediately found yours, his eyelids a bit hooded while he ran his tongue over his lips, “i feel… weird.”

“good weird or bad weird?” you asked softly, raising your eyebrows a little, as you searched his expression to try and figure out what he meant, but to no avail.

“um… well, it depends.” Michael admitted sheepishly, a bit flustered, as your eyebrows slightly furrowed and you chuckled softly, confused by what he meant yet amused by his reaction.

“on what, Michael?”

“…on how you’ll react.”

your eyebrows furrowed a bit more at his vagueness, your amusement transferring into more confusion, and you looked at him silently for a moment before taking your eyes away from his face and beginning to slowly eye him down, looking for any context clues that could tell you what ‘weird’ feeling he had that he didn’t want to tell you upfront.

Michael watched you closely as your gaze wandered down his body, his bottom lip tucked between his teeth and his eyes dropping to stare at your lips. your eyes eventually landed on his hips and they paused there once you noticed the bulge in his jeans, realization dawning on you that the ‘weird’ feeling he had was just an erection.

“Michael, baby… there’s nothin’ wrong with bein’ hard,” you giggled teasingly as you looked up at him and noticed his gaze linger on your mouth before flitting up to meet your eyes, causing a small smirk to spread across your face, “i’ve seen you hard before, y’know that.”

“yeah, but… we haven’t done nothin’ for me to be hard,” Michael chuckled bashfully as his hand on your hip slid back up to your waist and he held onto it, keeping you close to him, “i think that, um… that those brownies might’ve… you know.”

this time, it didn’t take you long to figure out what he meant. you had heard various stories from your sister about the different ways that weed can affect a person, including stories about marijuana-fueled arousal. however, they slipped your mind once your high kicked in, but now that Michael was hard, you realized that those weren’t just exaggerated tall tales.

“mm, well… guess i should help you out then, huh?” you teased, your voice dropping to a soft sultry purr, as Michael’s breathing audibly hitched and his grip on your waist tightened, your words coaxing a needy whimper from his vocals.

“please, mama?” Michael whined softly, his erection pushing at the seam of his jeans, as you smiled at him and tossed one of your legs over his hips before moving to straddle his lap, a broken moan falling from his lips the moment you were flush against his dick.

before another sound could leave his mouth, you kissed him deeply, your lips colliding together with a soft smacking sound as you cradled his face in your hands to keep him close. his hands instinctively grabbed ahold of your hips to keep you stable on his lap as the kiss slowly but surely grew into something hungrier, both of you feeling as if you were floating due to your intoxicated state.

your hips rolled absentmindedly and both of you moaned at the friction the movement created as Michael’s fingers splayed across your hips and his tongue gently swiped across your bottom lip, asking for entrance. parting your lips, you allowed his tongue to explore your mouth and your own tongue soon met his as your kisses grew sloppy, your tongues molding together while your lips remained locked.

one of your hands dropped to one of Michael’s shoulders and you held onto it as you began grinding against the erection in his pants, your hips rolling with blind precision while Michael’s hips almost instantly bucked up to meet your movements. both of you fell into a steady rhythm as you ground against each other, one of his hands lowering to grab a handful of your ass while his other hand slid up your back to grab your nape.

your prolonged kiss was filled with tongue, heavy breathing, and moans as the two of you continued sucking each other’s faces off and rocking into one another, the friction eventually becoming unbearable to Michael and making him whine softly.

suddenly, he broke the kiss and his hands flew to the waistband of his jeans as he hastily unbuttoned them and wiggled his hips desperately to get out of them, making you giggle while you lifted your hips and lowered your hands to help him undress.

“s’not funny, i need you.” Michael whined with need, a small furrow forming between his eyebrows, as you smiled knowingly at him and the two of you quickly undressed each other until you were both bare, his dick hard and leaking pre-cum from the slit in his tip due to how aroused he was.

“mm, s’okay, i’ma make it all better, Mikey.” you purred, raising your hips again, as you reached between the two of you and wrapped your fingers around his dick, guiding him to your entrance before slowly sinking down on him.

both of you moaned in unison as your pussy stretched around Michael’s inches and completely engulfed him until he was buried to the hilt, a sharp sigh falling from your lips the moment your hips were flush against his pelvis. gripping his shoulders with both hands now, you raised your hips until only the tip was left inside of you before roughly slamming down on him, causing a cry of pleasure to leave both of you at once.

you didn’t start off slow like you usually would. instead, you started with a fast and deep pace, your ass slapping against his thighs with each bounce. skin-slapping, your moans, and Michael’s whimpers echoed off of your bedroom walls as the two of you fucked like wild animals in heat, his hips instinctively bucking up to meet each of your bounces halfway while his hands gripped every part of you he could properly grasp.

one of his hands held your waist and the other grabbed a handful of your hair as he pulled you down to him and kissed you hungrily, his tongue making its way into your mouth for a second time while he let go of his waist and wrapped his arm around you instead. pulling you down to his chest, your rhythm started to falter as Michael fucked up into you with vigor, his hungry and sloppy kisses making you dizzy while he worked your body just the way you liked it.

noticing the lost of momentum in your bounces, Michael switched your positions and flipped you over onto your back as he pulled your legs onto his shoulders and shoved his dick even deeper inside you than it already was, practically folding you in half and coaxing a sharp gasp from you that forced you to break the kiss.

“M-Michael! ohhhhh, my God— yes! yes, yes, yessss— jus’ like t-thaaaat! nnngh, babyyy!” you squealed loudly, your head lolling back against your pillows, as your eyes rolled back so far that only the whites were visibly and you firmly gripped Michael’s back, holding him tight while he pressed heated kisses against your jaw and lowered his mouth to the crook of your neck.

“you feel s-soooo good, mama,” Michael moaned against your neck, his mouth sucking and nipping gently at your melanated skin, as his hands tightly gripped your thighs before sliding up to the back of your knees and pushing your legs back further, your knees pressing flush into the mattress and ultimately exposing and spreading your pussy wide open for him, “wanna go deeper… wanna give you all that i got, sweet girl… wanna make you feel magical…”

by this point, your moans had migrated into screams of bliss and you were practically seeing stars as your legs shook violently in Michael’s grasp, making him hold them tighter to keep them from slipping from his hands or closing around him. his hips continued pushing forward as he fucked you hastily and as deep as he could go, your juices completely drenching him and giving him a white and creamy ring around the base of his dick.

“mmmh, i-i’m gon’ cuuum!” you cried out shrilly, your eyebrows furrowing deeply, as a scrunch formed in the bridge of your nose and your grip tightened on Michael’s back, your jaw going slack and your mouth hanging open while your toes curled, “ooooh, b-babyyyy, i’m— c-cummin’!”

“c-cum for me, beautiful… nnnngh!— give it t-to me, mama, i got ya… i—hah!—i g-got ya, i swear… oh, g-gosh, you feel s-so amazin’ when you’re t-this wet f’me… y-you’re—mmh!—you’re drenchin’ me, pretty thing…”

TAGLIST (CLOSED!): @pinkkycherrish @hismainchic @jeyusosglasses @junkie05 @buckybarnessweetheart @ether3alglory @soimightlikeoldmen69 @queenofchelsea @chaotuics @arithescorpio @myhobari @niyahctrl @mxnijuana @freshbonggwater @spencerreidismyhusband123 @mrsj4cks0n @tauroist @watamotee33 @delictezz @bbcouture-69 @enzo6ekiiii @fortuncooki @jurneeblogs @justalocallesbian @tonguetiedtempted @darkseidex @neighbourscat @lov3lylxvender @simpllytea @timae444 @lunarexperttrace @peacemakersbeloved @uh444 @mjsfavouritefish @totallylucidzzz @swavydadon @brxght-world @plan3tch1ld @shutupzela @someonessoulrecord @bluebiva @lotusflwss @gnabnahcsworld @angelroary @kneelarmhstrung @michaelsbabymother @cozygirljay @yourlocalpyt @backlikearash2 @xyahx 🩷

“got him where i want him at. sis, you can let it go. figured that you found out ‘cause you been stalkin’ every post.” + “i don’t owe you shit ‘cause i ain’t fuckin’ you.” + “keep a ho in check, give me my respect.”

dating Michael was like a dream that you didn’t want to wake up from. almost like a fairytale in a children’s book that gets read to little girls every night as a bedtime story. he was such a sweet, loving, kind, considerate, and gentle soul, always making you his priority even when time wasn’t on his side. some people call it “puppy love” and others call it the “honeymoon phase”, but you and Michael called it love — a soft yet passionate endearment that ran through every nerve in your bodies.

however, you should’ve known that things between you and Michael wouldn’t have been able to stay private forever like you had hoped, especially with the way the media has gone out of their way to intrude on his personal life since he was just 5 years old.

for Michael’s 21st birthday, he wanted to go skating, so you and several others, including his siblings, tagged along with him to a roller rink and had a great time together, you and him skating hand-in-hand and sharing giggles whenever someone managed to lose their balance and tumble over.

Michael didn’t get to experience proper birthday celebrations because of the way he grew up, but that day felt so incredibly special to him, especially since he had dropped his first solo album “Off The Wall” weeks prior and was proud of the overly positive reception he’d been receiving — but your presence only brightened his day more than anything or anyone else ever could.

both of you were practically on cloud nine and you rode on that high for the rest of his birthday, sharing the carefree energy that only he could bring out of you, but little did either of you know, that high wouldn’t last very much longer.

in 1980, exactly one year later, several tabloid pieces were published about the two of you, completely exposing your relationship to the public eye. the pieces not only contained photos of you two from the night of his 21st birthday at the roller rink, but also from several other different occasions of you and him out in public together — and you could tell most of them had been taken in 1979 because of the outfits both of you wore.

some of the photos were of the two of you holding hands, others were of you laughing and smiling at each other. hell, one of the photos was of you sitting in the studio with him as he worked on “Off The Wall”, which immediately made you assume someone who was there that night had a part to play in the exposure of your relationship.

but there was one in particular that was on the cover of almost every single newspaper you laid your eyes on — one of you kissing him on the cheek with his arm wrapped around your waist.

each headline was different. some of them read:

MICHAEL JACKSON AND HIS MYSTERY WOMAN HAVING A NIGHT OUT ON THE TOWN — ANYONE KNOW THE PRETTY LADY’S NAME?

while others read:

MICHAEL JACKSON AND HIS SECRET LOVER SPOTTED OUT IN PUBLIC — KEEP THAT PDA IN CHECK, MA’AM!

but one that bugged you the most was:

GOLD DIGGER ALERT! — MICHAEL JACKSON AND AN UNKNOWN WOMAN SEEN TOGETHER SHORTLY AFTER THE RELEASE OF HIS SOLO ALBUM “OFF THE WALL.”

some headlines uplifted you and others completely ripped you apart, calling you every name under the sun except the one your parents gave you. it bothered you tremendously that people who didn’t even know you had so many disrespectful and borderline disgusting things to say about you, but Michael never failed to reassure you that nobody what the headlines said, he’d always love you with all of his heart and soul.

but unfortunately for you, headlines and tabloids weren’t the only thing you had to worry about.

the moment the world found out you and Michael were in a relationship, the house phone wouldn’t stop ringing, but it wasn’t because everybody and their mama was calling to be nosy and see how you and Michael were holding up. it was because one specific person from Michael’s past couldn’t let bygones be bygones — the one person he still managed to have a soft spot for to this day.

Diana motherfucking Ross.

it was pretty appalling how you found out she was the one blowing up your landline — whenever you answered the phone, the person on the other end would hang up as soon as they heard your voice, not even bothering to let you get your entire “hello?” out. however, there was the one time when Michael answered the phone, and… the outcome was real different.

“baby, i think we need to call the phone company and have them block this number,” you sighed in exasperation, your eyebrows furrowing a little, as the landline continued to ring obnoxiously loud and you stood in front of it, debating on whether or not to actually answer it, “every time i answer it, the person hangs up. i think it’s a spam caller or somethin’.”

“here — lemme’ see it, mama,” Michael popped up around the corner and wrapped his fingers around the phone as he took it off the hook and untangled the cord before putting it up to his ear, “hello? who’s this?—”

the sentence practically died in Michael’s throat as he suddenly went quiet and stiff beside you, his eyes a bit wide and his breathing seemingly caught in his throat. you stared at him in deep confusion, another furrow forming between your eyebrows, and you watched him closely as his adam’s apple bobbed from a hard swallow and he softly cleared his throat to try and regain his composure.

“o-oh— uh, h-hi… Diana…”

mad was 100% an understatement for how you felt that night. the person playing foolish games on your house phone everyday since the news dropped that you and Michael were together was none other than the woman he’d idolized since he was a kid and held on a pedestal as he grew up — oh, you were incredibly livid.

it was no secret to you who Diana Ross was, but it was also no secret who she was to Michael and how much she meant to him — but most importantly, it was also no secret to you that Diana would purposely meddle in Michael’s love life to keep him attached to her hip like an overgrown child.

you had heard all of the stories from Jermaine and Marlon about how Diana would mysteriously appear whenever Michael was seeing a girl and ultimately reel him back into her arms with her predatory charm — and Michael being Michael, he’d fall for it every time.

you told his two brothers that you weren’t worried about her interfering with your relationship because not only had Michael unconsciously distanced himself from her when the two of you started getting serious, but you also weren’t going to let her take him away from you without a fight — and you were absolutely standing on everything you said now that it was actually happening.

the game was on, and you weren’t about to lose to an old woman who couldn’t let go of someone who was way out of her damn league.

after that night, Diana never stopped calling. in fact, she called more just to hear the sound of Michael’s voice, but you strictly banned him from answering the phone whenever she called after she tried to reminisce on memories they shared together and get him to “remember the good times” — a poor attempt to try and get him to fall down a well of nostalgia and pick her over you.

Michael also grew increasingly clingy after that night, always needing to touch you in some way, shape, or form and even whining when you went too far from him. truthfully, it was only because he was anxious about this whole situation. he didn’t want to lose you — he loved you far too much and too deeply to lose you — but he also wasn’t the biggest fan of conflict and confrontation. to be frank, he hated being in it and he hated being around it, which was most likely because of how he experienced his childhood and adolescence with Joseph Jackson.

because Diana never stopped calling, you ended up calling your phone company and getting her number blocked, which ceased the unnecessary noise in your home and eased Michael’s nerves. you never told him upfront that you blocked her number and he never asked why she stopped calling — in fact, both of you continued on as if nothing had even happened and you never discussed it again.

you didn’t go out of your way to get back at her for what she did. you knew that Diana was a very calculated woman who didn’t stop until she got the things she wanted from people, even if she had to work harder and longer for it.

but you? oh, you were an extremely headstrong woman. you didn’t fold under pressure, even if the pressure in question was a woman trying to slither her way into your relationship.

things went somewhat back to normal after that, but the random tabloids being printed and the paparazzi always managing to find you and Michael wherever you went only increased overtime. however, things took another turn when the American Music Awards rolled around in January 1981 and Michael was invited because he was nominated for Favorite Pop/Rock Album, Favorite Soul/R&B Male Artist, and Favorite Soul/R&B Album.

it had only been a few months since the whole “Michael Jackson and his secret girlfriend” scandal hit the news, and you knew that this awards ceremony would only add fuel to the fire, so instead of staying in the shadows and letting the world’s interest in your relationship die down, both of you decided to embrace the publicity and you joined Michael as his date.

you spent the entire day getting ready with your friends, who were more than willing to help you look even more beautiful than you already were. you didn’t let Michael see you until later on that night when it was time for the two of you to leave and head to the ceremony, wanting to surprise him by how breathtaking you looked all dolled up.

you were already inside the limo the moment Michael walked out of your shared home to join you, but when he pulled open the door to the vehicle and his eyes landed on you, he immediately froze, his lips slightly parting in astonishment at the sight of your appearance.

you wore a long beautiful one-strap red gown that had a slit to let one of your pretty legs slide perfectly through it with a black faux fur stole draped across your shoulders for warmth and comfortable black heels on your feet to match the black in Michael’s top and his bow tie. your hair was silk-pressed and pulled up into a curly bun with a curled bang hanging down and covering one of your eyes as your face was decorated with soft makeup and your lips sat adorned with red lipstick that matched your dress, the delicious aroma of your perfume filling Michael’s nostrils and ultimately melting him even further.

“baby… oh, mama, you look… g-gosh, you look wonderful,” Michael gushed in awe, a wide dimpled smile crossing his face, as he slipped into the seat beside you and shut the door behind him, the limo immediately pulling off from your driveway and down the road, “this why you wouldn’t let me see you all day? ‘cause you were gettin’ ready f’me?”

“uh-huh,” you smiled as you watched his gaze travel along your body in adoration and your smile widened, knowing he wouldn’t be able to take his eyes off you the entire night, “wanted to surprise you, angel.”

“this is the best surprise i’ve ever had… you’re the best surprise i’ve ever had,” Michael chuckled bashfully and you giggled softly as you reached over to him and grabbed ahold of his hand, giving it a soft squeeze before intertwining your fingers with his, “so… how do you feel ‘bout tonight? you nervous at all?”

“i’m more excited than anything, honestly,” you answered with a small shrug, gently moving your bang back from your eye with the tips of your fingers, as you gave him a slow once-over before your gaze fixated on his face and you slightly tilted your head, “i get to be seen on my handsome boyfriend’s arm and i get to watch him collect some awards for his amazin’ artistry… nothin’ for me to really be nervous ‘bout, baby.”

you purposely left out one of the reasons why you weren’t nervous — because you were secretly anticipating Diana’s reaction when she saw you with Michael — and you flashed Michael a charming smile, which only flustered him more and made him duck his head into the crook of your neck to hide his face.

“mm, stop…” Michael murmured sheepishly, pressing his face against your warm skin, as you laughed softly and slightly shook your head, your free hand reaching up to cradle his nape while your other hand remained tangled with his.

“you’re so cute when you get all shy, y’know that?”

the flashing white lights from the paparazzi’s cameras nearly blinded the two of you as you stepped out of the limousine and onto the red carpet hand-in-hand, Michael’s arm immediately wrapping around your waist to keep you tucked into his side once you were out of the vehicle.

shouts of Michael’s name from journalists, reporters, and photographers trying to get his and your attention filled both of your ears as you posed together for the various cameras, both of your eyes flitting around to every lens to give each individual one a polite smile and wave.

though this was your first official appearance with Michael and your first time on the red carpet, you handled it with grace as if you were a pro, keeping your head up and your back straight as you allowed Michael to guide you through the bustling crowd of celebrities.

when the two of you found your seats and the moment a shred of peace and somewhat quiet fell upon you — at least, quieter than the sound of people yelling over each other and the deafening shuttering of cameras — both of you exhaled quietly in unison, prompting you to look over at each other and laugh softly.

“you okay after all that?” Michael asked softly, smiling a little at you, as you smiled back and nodded your head in response, causing Michael’s smile to widen while he reached over and gently rested his hand on your thigh, “lemme’ know if you ever get uncomfortable and we can leave, ‘kay?”

“i will, angel.”

about an hour had passed and the American Music Awards had gone by smoothly so far. the last award of the Pop/Rock categories had just been given out and now they were moving on to the Soul/R&B categories, which you and Michael had been looking forward to since he didn’t win Favorite Pop/Rock Album.

as they announced the nominees for Favorite Soul/R&B Album and built anticipation for the winner, you felt Michael’s grip slightly tighten on your thigh and your hand lowered to cover his as you gently squeezed it to comfort him, causing his hand to loosen just a little — not enough to fully reassure you that he wasn’t nervous.

before you could lean in to reassure him properly, his name and album were announced from the award presenters and your attention immediately averted to the stage, both of you realizing at the same time that he was the winner for the subcategory. as the camera shifted to the two of you, you erupted into squeals and applause as Michael’s eyes lit up and he leaned over to you, kissing your cheek twice before standing from his seat and rushing to the stage.

as he collected his award, he said a few heartwarming words before walking off of the stage and back to his seat, causing another uproar of applause and cheers from the crowd — including you, his beautiful lady. he sat down again and held his award in his lap as he reached over to you and grabbed onto one of your hands, intertwining his fingers with yours and pressing kisses against each of your knuckles.

before you could relish in the affection, the awards ceremony moved on to Favorite Soul/R&B Song, and the sound of Diana Ross’s name being called as one of the nominees made you involuntarily stiffen up, your smile freezing on your face and suddenly not meeting your eyes anymore. you quickly fixed your appearance before Michael or one of the cameras caught it though, not wanting to draw too much attention to yourself or your reaction to the sound of that lady’s name.

the moment they announced that she was the winner, you held your breath a little to keep yourself from unconsciously making any movements that would display your disdain for her or your annoyance by her, such as your jaw clenching or your grip suddenly tightening on Michael’s hand.

you watched Diana with quiet and suppressed fury as she walked up onto the stage to receive her award, greeting the presenters before moving towards the podium to say her thanks. while she spoke, you watched her closely as she looked among the crowd to make eye contact with everyone until her gaze fell upon you and Michael, an unreadable glint briefly flickering in her eyes while they fixated specifically on him as if you weren’t even there at all.

you felt Michael tense up beside you as his grip on your hand tightened, but you didn’t spare him at all glance. you kept your eyes on the woman of the moment, watching her attentively as she stared at your boyfriend as if he was the only one in the room and nobody else existed — including you.

you remained poised and maintained your composure, but deep down inside? oh, you were angry as fuck — you were just really good at hiding it in public.

as Diana walked down from the stage and went back to her seat, the awards ceremony moved on to Favorite Soul/R&B Female Artist and her name was announced for a second time as a nominee. this time when you heard her name, your body stiffened longer than before and Michael noticed it. he glanced over at you before doing a double take, taking his time to give you a once-over before he awkwardly turned his attention back to the stage.

he could tell you were upset. he’s been with you long enough to know the signs of your emotions running high, but he never thought about how to handle your anger in public — and he also didn’t know how to calm you down when he knew you had every right to be bothered by Diana’s existence.

unfortunately for you, Diana won that award as well, and you watched her like a hawk as she walked up onto the stage to receive her second award of the night with a big ass grin on her face, greeting the new presenters before moving towards the podium to say her second round of thanks. at this point, you were dissociating, completely zoning out and disconnecting from your body to keep yourself from showing how unpleased you were.

what brought you back was the cheers and applause for Diana as she left the stage again, and you immediately exhaled sharply under your breath in exasperation. was the American Music Awards mocking you because you and Michael had been outed as a couple to the public and he used to be attached to Diana’s hip before you came along? how many awards was this bitch going to win tonight?

luckily, the awards ceremony moved on to Favorite Soul/R&B Male Artist and you immediately sat up straighter, your eyes lighting up once you heard Michael’s name be announced as a nominee by presenters Bonnie Pointer and La Toya Jackson — aka, his big sister.

as they listed the other nominees, you were practically on the edge of your seat, silently pleading for Michael to be the winner — but when he actually was proclaimed as the winner, the abrupt squeal of undeniable glee that left your mouth was heard over the heavy applause in the room.

his eyes lit up for a second time and a wide dimpled smile crossed his face, but before he could actually get up, you leaned over to him and pressed a big kiss against his cheek, leaving behind a red lipstick stain on his face as a way to claim him more than you already had — and to also rub it in Diana’s face.

he was practically beaming at this point, and he looked at you with nothing but endless adoration in his eyes as he stood from his seat and brung your hand to his mouth again, quickly kissing the back of it before letting it go and heading on stage. you watched as he hugged Bonnie first and moved to wrap La Toya in his embrace, slightly rocking her before gently grabbing the award from her hand, pulling away from her, and moving towards the podium.

as you watched him give a short sweet speech to say his thanks, you noticed Bonnie and La Toya giving you small waves from the stage and your smile widened as you waved back to them, intense warmth spreading through you for the first time since you arrived.

maybe tonight wouldn’t be so bad after all… right?

if you weren’t overstimulated by photographers and journalists before, you definitely were now.

the departure of the American Music Awards was far more chaotic than the arrival was. now that all of the winners were announced and had been awarded, journalists and reporters were practically pressing any and every winner they could find — and the photographers? they weren’t any better, their numerous cameras flashing every millisecond to catch every single person they could.

you had been trying to keep yourself pulled together the whole night, but your patience was running thin and it felt like everyone was working on your last nerve — however, you still remained graceful and maintained your composure so you didn’t come off as rude or accused of having a bad attitude.

this was your first public appearance, after all. how would that look if you lost your cool at a formal event like this? and how would it look for Michael, especially when he was the one who invited you to join him? you didn’t want to embarrass yourself, but you definitely didn’t want to embarrass Michael.

as you and Michael bid yourself farewell to Bonnie and La Toya, before either of you could continue on your journey to leaving the building, a group of photographers and a reporter swarmed around you, causing Michael’s grip to immediately tighten on you — you had been carrying one of his awards so his arm could wrap around your waist and keep you close to him.

“good evening, beautiful mystery lady,” the reporter smiled at you, showing all 32 of her teeth, as you smiled politely and let out a soft giggle, “how do you feel about Michael’s accomplishments tonight? we saw you cheering loudly for him each time he was called upon stage, but i’d rather hear it from you personally.”

“i’m very proud of Michael, actually. he’s worked so hard on “Off The Wall” and on his career overall, so i’m extremely happy that i got to see him be rewarded for his talent,” you explained, a genuine smile gracing your face, as Michael smiled bashfully and he looked down at you and pressed a soft kiss against your temple, making you giggle, “i’m also real grateful to be on his arm tonight, in case you wanted to know that as well.”

“well, judging by the lipstick stain on his cheek, i could definitely see how grateful you are to be here with him,” the reporter laughed, earning a laugh from you, as she adjusted her microphone in her hand, “well, i won’t hold the two of you for much longer. Michael, congratulations on your two beautiful AMAs tonight, i wish both of you a save trip home!”

both of you gave the reporter your goodbyes and you watched the photographers leave you and follow behind her, making you exhale heavily in relief. noticing this, Michael looked down at you and he chuckled softly, his thumb gently stroking your side.

“you tired, mama?” Michael asked, a slight teasing undertone to his voice, as the two of you resumed making your way towards the exit door of the building and you gently adjusted your grip on Michael’s award in your hands.

“honestly, yeah, i am. tonight’s been so overwhelmin’ for me—”

“oh, Michael!” the sound of that familiar yet aggravating voice stopped both of you in your tracks, your fingers tightening around the base of the award and your jaw clenching so tight that your teeth nearly ground together.

both of you turned around slowly for different reasons — Michael was anxious and you were furious, the same way both of you felt when you found out that Diana was the one blowing up your house phone. once you were fully turned to face her, you eyed her from head to toe real slow, as if you were sizing her up just in case you had to act of character.

“you weren’t leavin’ without sayin’ hi to me, were you?” Diana asked, slightly raising her eyebrows, as a playfully dramatic frown crossed her face and you looked over at Michael, gauging his reaction and immediately picking up on his nervousness.

“y-yeah, uh… my lady’s feelin’ real tired so i thought we’d leave soon.” Michael chuckled awkwardly, his fingers slightly flexing against your side, as Diana’s eyes flitted over to you and she gave you a once-over before meeting your gaze and giving you one of the fakest smiles you’ve ever seen, making you raise one of your eyebrows.

“oh, Michael, you never told me you were in a relationship now. i don’t believe i’ve met her before,” Diana’s fake smile widened and stretched out her free hand for you to shake, but you just stared at it with obvious disgust instead, keeping your hands on Michael’s award and refusing to touch her, “i’m Diana, one of Michael’s close friends.”

one of your eyes slightly twitched at her subtle emphasis of ‘close’ and your gaze flickered between her hand in his face before you fixated on her face and looked her dead in the eye with an unimpressed expression, “i know who you are.”

Diana blinked at your emotionless words and her sweet and kind facade nearly slipped before she quickly caught herself and chuckled quietly, lowering her hand back to her side and adjusting the two awards she was cradling in her other arm.

“you know, Michael, i would’ve assumed you’d go for a woman with a little bit more… class,” Diana chuckled, her shoulders shrugging slightly, as your eyebrows immediately furrowed and you watched Diana raise her index finger to gesture between the two of you, “i mean, don’t get me wrong, she’s dressed beautifully, but it seems like she doesn’t have the best attitude to be shown off by a superstar like you. it’s bad for publicity, you should know that.”

and just like that, your patience was gone.

you let out a exasperated laugh as your suppressed emotions now showed themselves on your face and in your body language, causing Michael to tense up beside you while he looked between the two of you uncomfortably.

“class? you know, that’s rich comin’ from a woman who wouldn’t stop callin’ our house once you found out we were dating — and don’t lie because i had to block your number and i got the call logs to prove it,” you spat harshly, slightly narrowing your eyes at her, as Diana’s eyes averted to you and you watched her part her lips to speak but you quickly cut her off before she could get started, “cut the whole “you never told me you were in a relationship” act — you knew. you just thought he’d tell you before it happened so you could try and stop it just like you did with the other girls he was with before me. and even if you didn’t know, you’re not his mother. why would you even need to know somethin’ like that?”

“you’re not innocent and you’re definitely not classy— in fact, you’re far from both and i believe you’ve always been that way. you’re a liar, a manipulator, and as fake as your weave. and you need to grow the fuck up and leave my man alone. ‘cause if this happens again, i will be goin’ straight to the tabloids and givin’ them a real story to plaster across the states.” you snapped, your jaw clenching, as Diana blinked and she stared at you in shock, her mouth still slightly open from when she tried to speak but got caught off by you.

you had bit your tongue for too damn long and you were tired of holding in how you felt. you hated Diana, and you were tired of hiding it just to save you and Michael’s asses. she had no right to come up to the two of you and disrespect you in front of him and in room full of people, so if she wanted to go low, you were going to take it lower and go straight to hell with it.

funny enough, some of the attendees, reporters, and journalists had overheard you going off on Diana, and you had a feeling they would because you weren’t exactly quiet with the things you said, but quite frankly, you were tired of being quiet. as reporters and journalists moved towards the three of you and photographers followed their lead, you unwrapped Michael’s arm from around your waist and grabbed ahold of his hand as you hastily resumed walking to the exit to avoid being interviewed, Michael quickly following behind you and keeping up with your fast pace.

the two of you reached the limousine in no time, though cameras flashing and yelling reporters and journalists continued following you and even swarmed your limo. however, before they could properly get to you, you were already inside the vehicle and the driver immediately pulled off once he realized that both of you were inside and the limo was being surrounded by various individuals.

as the limousine rolled down the road, you sat against the window with one of Michael’s awards in your lap and one of your hands resting underneath your chin, your gaze remaining out of the window and your jaw sitting clenched. the silence was deafeningly loud and tense, and Michael shifted awkwardly beside you as he looked over at you and swallowed hard, brainstorming on how to approach you in your angered state.

“…mama?” Michael asked quietly, his voice barely audible, as he went to reach out to you but paused, knowing you most likely didn’t want to be touched right now, “is… is there anythin’ i can do?”

your expression gradually softened and you lowered your hand from your chin as you turned to look at him and noticed the look of worry in his eyes, making your expression soften quicker than you realized.

“oh, baby… i’m not mad at you,” you reassured him softly, moving closer to him, as you rested your thigh against his and you grabbed one of his hands, intertwining your fingers while you leaned in to kiss his cheek, “but i am mad at her. and i’m tired of tryna’ be nice to your friend.”

“she shouldn’t have said those things about you. she’s so wrong for tryin’ to embarrass you like that. i’m sorry i didn’t stick up for you, mama, i really am,” Michael murmured, bringing your hand to his mouth for a third time tonight, as he kissed each of your knuckles again and rested your hand against his face, “i’m never speakin’ to her again for sayin’ those disgustin’ things to you.”

“angel, don’t apologize. i know you don’t do well in conflict and i’m not gon’ hold that against you, ‘kay?” you whispered reassuringly, untangling your hand from Michael’s, as you adjusted your hand on his face and cradled his jaw in your palm, gently stroking his jaw and watching him slowly nod his head, “i love you, Mikey. nothing’s gonna change that, especially not her.”

Michael smiled tenderly at you and nodded again as he leaned into your palm and slightly turned his head, pressing soft kisses against your palm and letting his mouth travel to pepper kisses along your wrist.

“i love you more, darlin’. i love you so much, i can’t live without you, mama. you’re all i need.”

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to you, college professors were some of the most stubborn teachers alive simply because of how strict they were when it came down to grades, rounding them up, and finalizing them, and Professor Jackson was no different from them.

the semester was coming to an end and you’d just submitted your last assignment of her class before the final exam she’d be giving out next week, but the problem is that your grade was sitting right at an 89.95%, which was a B, and you knew it wouldn’t be rounded up to a 90%, which was an A, because it was explicitly stated in Professor Jackson’s syllabus that she didn’t do that sort of thing.

granted, you had very high hopes for your final exam and didn’t think you’d bomb it when the time came, but you also wanted to have a high enough grade to the point where if you did do bad on it, your final grade would still be high and wouldn’t jack up your GPA.

you knew most professors didn’t really give out extra credit assignments, especially during the closing of the semester, but you couldn’t risk not asking at least once to see if she had any in store for you or not, even if she truly didn’t have anything for you.

as the class wrapped up and came to an end, you were packing your things up with practiced ease, going slower than you usually would because you wanted to be alone when you asked Professor Jackson for extra credit — mainly because you didn’t want any of the other students trying to ask for extra credit as well.

some might call it petty, but you didn’t give a damn. you worked your ass off all semester long, so if she did have any extra credit assignments, it belonged to you and only you.

luckily for you, it was a Friday afternoon, so the classroom cleared out much more quickly than it did on any other day. tossing your backpack over one of your shoulders, you clutched the strap to keep it stable as you walked down the aisle of seats and headed down to Professor Jackson’s desk, watching her turn off the projector and move with grace to clean off the whiteboards.

“Professor Jackson?” you called out, catching her attention, as her hand paused mid-swipe on the whiteboard and her head turned back towards you, a small smile crossing her face while she watched you walk over to and stand in front of her desk, “can i ask you somethin’?”

“sure, sweetheart, what is it?” Professor Jackson asked warmly, the term of endearment sending butterflies right to your stomach, as she sat the whiteboard eraser down and walked over to her desk, standing behind it and properly meeting your gaze.

“well, i was wonderin’ if you had any extra credit assignments i could do to bump up my grade? i know the semester’s close to ending and whatnot, but i’d really like to ace this class and my grade’s still stuck at an 89.” you explained, adjusting your backpack on your shoulder, as Professor Jackson pursed her lips together and slightly tilted her head, a soft hum emitting from her vocals while she looked at you in deep thought.

you watched as her eyes scanned your face before dropping to your lips, her gaze lingering there before moving lower and eyeing your body down. you honestly thought your mind was playing tricks on you… until her gaze settled onto your cleavage and you watched her tongue dart across her lips, wetting them a little before her eyes abruptly meet yours again and she smiled innocently — as if she hadn’t been unashamedly ogling her student.

“meet me in my office later on today at 6:30. i’ll have somethin’ for you then.” Professor Jackson offered sweetly, though the look in her eyes showed something much more salacious than her tone let on, as you smiled widely in relief before suddenly pausing, a look of confusion finding its way onto your face.

“wait… i thought your office hours ended at 6?” you asked, a bit dumbfounded, as Professor Jackson smiled at you and let out a soft laugh, slightly shaking her head.

“they do, but i want to make sure there’ll be no interruptions when we discuss your extra credit opportunities,” Professor Jackson assured, gently nudging her glasses up the bridge of her nose, as she adjusted her blazer and loosely crossed her arms, “so, i’ll see you at 6:30?”

you smiled a little, oblivious to the look in her eyes, and you nodded your head as you looked at her for a final time before heading to the classroom door, “see you at 6:30.”

at exactly 6:30, you knocked on Professor Jackson’s office door twice to announce your presence, quickly glancing around the empty hallway before pushing the door open and stepping inside her office.

softly closing the door behind you, your gaze averted to your professor, who was sitting behind her desk with her blazer off and draped the back of her chair, the sleeves of her white dress shirt rolled up to her elbows, and her hair free from its half-pulled back and half-down state and now cascading down the sides of her face.

one of her hands slightly hovered above the keys on her keyboard and her other hand covered her mouse as her eyes remained on her computer monitors and she kept her back turned towards you, but you could tell she was aware of your presence because her posture straightened just a little.

“lock the door f’me, sweetheart.” the soft sound of Professor Jackson’s velvety voice hit your eardrums and you blinked, pulling yourself out of your thoughts, as you slipped a hand behind your back and turned the lock on the doorknob without thinking twice, the soft ‘click!’ sounding out into the room and briefly mixing with the soft clacking of keys.

your eyes remained on your professor and you watched her finish up what she was previously doing on her computer before she shut it down and swiveled around in her chair to face you, that signature warm smile spreading across her face as she looked at you.

“are you nervous bein’ alone with me?” Professor Jackson teased, slightly raising her eyebrows, as she reached up and gently removed her glasses from her face, sitting them aside before turning her attention back to you, “you haven’t moved away from the door since you closed it.”

a small bashful smile crossed your face at the realization and you quickly cleared your throat before letting out a soft chuckle, the sound a bit more timid then your usual chuckles, “i’m sorry, it wasn’t intentional… i just, um—”

“—got distracted by me, i know. i felt you starin’ when you walked in,” she finished your sentence for you and grinned knowingly as she stood from her chair and gently nudged it back with her calf, her gaze remaining fixated on you while she slightly tilted her head, “c’mere, pretty girl.”

your breathing got caught in your throat at the term of endearment and you swallowed hard as you felt your heart skip a beat and you stared at her incredulously, not knowing if this was actually happening or if it was all in your head.

“Professor—”

“Janet,” Professor Janet Jackson interrupted you for a second time and she smiled at you, though you could tell there was something tantalizing in her seemingly innocent expression, “you can call me Janet when we’re alone. now are you gonna c’mere or do i have to repeat myself?”

your feet moved before you mind could make them. you walked over to her desk slowly, as if you were waiting for her to say she was just kidding, and you went to stand in front of it before her hand quickly shot out and she grabbed your wrist, pulling you around the desk and in front of her instead.

“c’mon, don’t act shy with me, sweetheart. i see the way you look at me during my lectures. you don’t hide it very well,” Janet grinned teasingly, her hands lowering to grip your hips, as she lifted you with ease and sat you on her desk, a soft gasp falling from your lips and your eyes widening at the action, “the way you watch at my hips sway when i wear pencil skirts. the way you stare at my arms when i take off my blazer and roll up my sleeves. the way you stare at my hands instead of the board when i’m writing…”

Janet gently pulled your thighs open and moved to stand between them as her eyes examined your face and her hands slid up from your thighs to your hips again, splaying her fingers across them and teasingly squeezing them, “…you want me, don’t you, baby?”

you stared up at her silently, as if in a trance by not only her proximity but her beauty as well, and your throat suddenly felt dry as you gave her a small nod of your head, earning a soft chuckle from your professor.

“use your words, pretty girl.”

“…y-yes, i… i want you.”

Janet smiled victoriously at you and she hummed softly in satisfaction as her hands slowly explored your frame, one of them creeping up to your waist while the other slipped around to the waistband of your jeans.

“remember those extra credit opportunities i said i’d have for you?” Janet purred, biting her lip at you, as you swallowed hard and nodded again, your breathing now a bit heavy from her hands on your body, “this is it… let me give you what you’ve been wantin’ and you won’t have to worry ‘bout a single grade in my class, baby.”

you couldn’t believe this was happening — the professor you’ve been attracted to throughout the duration of your semester is willing to give you exactly what you’ve been dreaming of: a passing grade that you’ve been wishing for since she gave you your first assignment and raw, unadulterated pleasure from her fingertips — and maybe even more.

“y-yes… please, Janet, i want you. wan’ you to touch me…” you confessed in a needy whimper as you lifted your hands and grabbed ahold of her forearms, tugging her closer between your legs and getting a big whiff of her delicious perfume.

“mm, there’s my good girl,” Janet cooed sultrily, her hand on your waist gently caressing your side, as she slipped two of her other fingers through a belt loop beside the button of your jeans and she teasingly tugged at it, “tell me how you want it. how do you want me to touch you?”

“i… i want your fingers inside me… please.” you whimpered desperately, your breathing slightly hitching at the tug on your jeans, as Janet sexily grinned and she let go of your belt loop, her fingers moving to unbutton your jeans and pull them down your legs with ease.

she tossed them aside and spread your legs again as she looked down at your now slick underwear, noticing the wet spot sitting in the gusset of them. smirking to herself, she hooked her fingers inside the waistband of them and slowly pulled them down your legs, holding the pair of panties on her fingertips to analyze the wet spot better.

“oh, look at that,” Janet sighed in bliss as she eyed your wet underwear before tossing it aside and focusing her attention back on you, “you’re all wet f’me, sweetheart? is that right?”

“y-yes— God, yes…” you profusely nodded your head, the action almost desperate, and Janet smirked at you as she stepped closer to you and gripped your waist to hold you in place, her other hand resting on your lower abdomen before she slowly slid it between your legs and cupped your pussy in her palm, “J-Janet…”

“my name sounds so pretty comin’ from your mouth, baby. such a good student f’me, aren’t you?” Janet purred as her fingers found your clit and she rubbed it in steady circles, causing your back to slightly arch while you moaned out to her, “so pretty down here, too… you’re so beautiful, sweetheart.”

a whimper fell from your lips at her praise and she leaned forward as she tilted her head and buried it in the crook of your neck, leaving open-mouthed kisses along your heated melanated skin while her fingers continued to work your clit. one of your hands cradled the back of her head and your fingers threaded through her hair as your other hand held onto her forearm, your body arching into her touch while your head tilted back to further expose your neck.

“P-Professor,” the word fell from your lips with ease and somehow went unnoticed by you, but the sound of it made Janet’s kisses pause and her fingers speed up, “feels s-soooo good— oh, f-fuuckkk…”

“tell me how good it feels,” Janet murmured against your neck, raising her head, as she let go of your waist and grabbed your neck instead, lifting your head and making you look at her while one of her fingers slid inside of you, “tell me how long you’ve been thinkin’ about your professor touchin’ you like this.”

“f-for so long,” you gasped, your eyebrows slightly furrowed, as your hand left her hair and you grabbed ahold of her wrist, your eyelids slightly fluttering while your hips rolled forward to catch the rhythm of her finger, “mmh, i… i-i’d think about you makin’ me cum just l-like this… makin’ me yours over and over again.”

“you wanna be mine, sweet girl?” Janet cooed teasingly, slipping another finger inside of you, as you let out a needy mewl at the sensation and felt her fingers pick up speed, her thumb starting to rub at your clit while her middle and ring fingers fucked into you, “want me to claim you and keep you all to myself?”

“y-yes! ohhhh— nnnngh, f-fuck— yessss!” you whined as your hips rolled against her fingers to match her thrusts and your eyes rolled back, a furrow forming between your eyebrows while your thighs twitched, “m-make me yours, mama, please!”

“then cum for me, baby. cum on my desk. let me juice this pretty pussy, sweetheart, c’mon. give it to me. give it to me right now.” Janet’s filthy words sent you over the edge and your head fell back as your thighs quivered and your jaw went slack, your mouth hanging open while whines and whimpers fell endlessly from your ajar mouth.

“s-shiiiiit— ooh, fuck!— i-i’m cummin’! i— i’m cumminnnn’— uuughhh, J-Janet!”