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He doesn’t deserve her. But again, he doesn’t really deserve anything. He already has gotten too much: spoiled by the sweet possibility of life when all his comrades have fallen, their bodies twisted, mangled by titans and enemies alike.
Levi hardly cries, but he wants to cry in that moment. She turns on the stove for him, and rummages through his cabinets. She finds two cups and a sob is trapped inside his throat.
He doesn’t fucking understand why she stays, why she puts up with his sorry ass but, damn it. Damn it if he at least doesn’t try.
The war is over, but the demons still haunt Levi. Luckily for him, the last member of his Squad seems focused on remaining by his side as they both face this new enemy: peace.
This was !!! My first fic written in English, actually. Also my first (and only time so far) writing for aot. Levi is such an angsty angel, and this story wouldn’t leave my head, so I had to end up writing it, ofc. This has been in the drafts for... months. Too many months already. And tbh I'm not a fan of how it came out. But. Posting it in case someone else can enjoy Levi finally getting some love and comfort, sjsjs.
Content: Use of 3rd person pronouns. No use of y/n. Mostly Levi's pov. Reader was part of his Squad. Post!Rumbling Levi. Written with the manga ending in mind. A lot of fluff, rude Levi even if he doesn't mean it (but reader knows he means no harm). Healing. Spooning (Levi as the little spoon btw. He deserves it).
Warnings: depressive thoughts, self confidence issues. Mentions of past violence (but nothing gruesome, it's all in passing). SFW. No beta reader we die like everybody in Aot here.
They always meet. Every single day, she leaves her little flat to find him near the fountain in the Marleyan park, eager to push his wheelchair and pass some time with him.
Levi doesn’t understand. When Onyankopon, or Falco, or Gabi let her take the wheelchair, he just ponders. He could understand why they would accompany him: because he is old? because they feel pity of him?… But her?
Nonetheless, every single afternoon, she comes to him. He doesn’t recall when this custom began. It’s like slowly, but surely, she started digging a place into his routine. She was part of his remaining squad, and he really didn’t see any point to her bubbling-self still being by his side.
Still, he appreciates her visits. She exchanges pleasantries with Gabi, already smiling. Why is she smiling?
“Hi, Captain,” she says. Should he feel mocked? He isn’t a captain anymore and the title feels too much, even if it’s comforting in some way. Levi doesn’t reply. He just nods, silently acknowledging her presence. “Is it okay if we go to the stalls for a while, Captain?” She inquires, as if it was the first time they did it, and not a weekly occurrence. His jaw tenses. He doesn’t understand, still. She surely pities him. She has to.
He agrees to her proposal, though.
“Sure,” he replies, barely any emotion on his face.
She smiles at him. For a moment, they look at each other. She sees that familiar scarred face, a grey eye gazing into her soul. He sees the older face of her remaining squad member, some wrinkles next to her eyes, her figure dressed in green. For some reason, he liked that colour on her.
He doesn’t share that with her, though.
“Let’s get going,” she adds, a little chuckle in her voice — he can hear it — as she starts pushing the wheelchair. They check out the little shops that are already so familiar. Sometimes she signals a piece of jewellery or clothes. She asks for his opinion, or points at a silly artwork, in hopes of making him laugh.
When the cold starts to set in, she stops them in front of a coffee shop.
“Wait here a second, Captain,” she tells him.
“Where would I go, anyway?” He wants to say, snarky, but he doesn’t really bother in opening his mouth. He stays silent still, perking his head up to see what’s she’s doing.
“Oi. coffee?” He complains.
She directs her gaze to him and chuckles, paying the vendor.
“I know you like tea but it’s time to broaden your horizons,” she explains. She comes up to him again, and hands him one of the cups. He sighs, but accepts the drink still.
“What is it this time?”
“Just chocolate. Hot chocolate,” she answers, already sipping hers. She lets out a content sigh when the warmth of it starts to fill her belly.
“I don’t like chocolate,” Levi mutters under his breath. He is lying and she knows it.
“Tsk. That’s not true. Everybody likes chocolate.”
“… Fine,” he sips his drink and, admittedly, enjoys it. She hands him her drink so she can push the wheelchair again, and he takes it, guarding both cups on his lap, a familiar action for the two of them now.
“Where do we go?” She asks.
Levi shrugs. “As if I had a choice.”
She looks at him still, and when he can see her, barely from his peripheral vision, he sees a softer face. She’s waiting for his reply. He looks at her, looks at her lips. She isn’t smiling anymore. Levi sighs, suddenly feeling guilty.
He doesn’t understand still why she does this for him.
“Captain?” She says, just above a whisper, since there are people around them and they both just want to have a calm evening, without the risk of being recognised.
Levi nods before he even opens his mouth.
“The bridge.”
“Good,” she agrees as he sips from his drink again, guided by her. He does feel warmer. Levi inspects the people around him in silence, letting himself be carried, taken to a nicer place. “Hange would have like this,” he thinks. He looks down to suddenly realise he is clenching his fist, hard. “If you could even call it a hand…”
“We’re here, Captain,” she announces, letting his wheelchair rest next to a bench, overlooking the water. She takes a seat next to him, and Levi hands her the drink. He wonders if she noticed how tense he’s been feeling today.
“Be quick with that, brat, or it will get cold,” he warns, as if to pre-emptively shut down any words from her. He’s not sure he could handle it.
She just nods.
“It’s still warm,” she mentions after a moment.
The sunset is taking its place on the sky, a beautiful palette of oranges and pinks against a very flat horizon. A reminder of what was once lost.
“Good,” he says.
Levi looks at her. She is still looking forward, features illuminated by the falling sun, breeze caressing her face. There is something in his heart that aches, but he doesn’t want to think about that. He doesn’t dare to. Levi is old, too old, and too broken. And she only pities him.
He coughs to catch her attention, though.
“Hmh, yeah?” She immediately says.
“I heard the Scouts were going back to Paradis tomorrow,” he begins, the question lingering in the air. The small group was leaving first time in the morning.
“Yep.”
Levi blinks, expecting her to say more, but she doesn’t. He doesn’t want to ask. It feels… too much. He feels too exposed doing that, lower lip trembling.
“Are you going?” He finally dares to ask.
She turns back to him again, and looks at him with the sweetest gaze. Levi doesn’t miss how she looks at his lips first.
“I’m not.”
“Why?”
“I don’t have anything there,” she replies, matter-of-factly. Levi wants to hit his head against something, still uncertain about what that means. Does that mean that she has something here? Someone?
She must notice his doubts, so she lowers her gaze. “I mean. You know I lost my family during my first years as a Scout. And knowing that we tried to stop Eren… All the military forces in the island won’t be very happy to see me. Or any of us. I’ve done my part. I do not want more fighting.”
“… Right”. That still doesn’t answer his question, but it is enough to satisfy his curiosity without seeming to eager. He sips his drink again: it’s getting colder.
“You didn’t want to go, Captain?” There it was again, that fucking title that felt like a joke. He chuckles, not looking at her anymore but rather at the sunset.
“Why do you still call me like that?” He spits back.
“Captain?”
“Yeah,” His tone is unintentionally rude, but he can’t help it, not even around her.
“Well… It’s a sign of respect, don’t you think?”
Levi chuckles, amused.
“I never took you for a polite person.” He doesn’t want to look at her still. She hasn’t added anything, said anything else. What is she thinking of?
She looks at him. There’s a warmth in her belly which has nothing to do with the chocolate anymore. She knows: Her Captain has been way more vulnerable and open since the Rumbling. The little gestures that he could so easily hide before are now an open book. Or at least she feels that way, since she was always one to look at him.
It was so easy to just… stare at him. Admire him in every sense of the word, even now. When they were both soldiers they would fight alongside each other, against innumerable dangers. He was barely visible in the spectrum: always so fast, always so precise. A ray of dark hair and strong limbs, destroying everything to provide peace, to provide protection.
There was no point in denying how she felt about him… Except, maybe, to him.
“I don’t think I would like going back to Paradis,” she finally adds, finishing her drink. He seems to reflect on that idea for a moment, before nodding. He wants to ask why but he doesn’t dare to. “I’m just… comfortable here,” she finishes with a sigh. “This is okay.”
“That’s good,” he says, barely a spark of enthusiasm in his voice, but enough for her to notice.
She looks up at him again. And he feels tiny and scared suddenly, because she looks at him with wonder and care. Levi doesn’t mean to, but he ends up letting his drink fall from his hands, whether due to his nervousness or the state of his hand after the war.
“Shit,” he spits, upset.
“Sh, it’s alright, Captain.” In a second she is picking up the cup, handing him a handkerchief to dry his hands. She walks a few steps to throw both cups into a trashcan and is again, by his side. Such a quick interaction so as to ease his shame, he could notice it. “Are you alright?”
Levi still doesn’t know. He doesn’t know why she still treats him with such respect, why she seems to care so much for him. But he wants to find out, somehow. He barely nods, but she notices it.
“Good,” she says, while taking the handkerchief back. She is about to put it into her bag again when she feels a hand grabbing hers.
Levi.
He doesn’t even say anything. He doesn’t know how. She seems to understand, though, squeezing his hand, softly. Levi quickly lets her hand go, his cheeks going red. She gets behind the wheelchair again, as the sun is about to disappear, and Levi can hear her chuckling.
“Let’s get you home, Captain.”
He stays quiet, unsure if he could even say something useful.
There’s so much he doesn’t know how to say. How to do.
While she is pushing his chair he notices it again. A slight tremor in her right hand. “My wrist seems to ache lately… Must be from holding the blades for so many years,” she had explained in passing a couple weeks ago. He realises that it’s probably taking a strain on her to push him every fucking day.
“Oi,” he says.
“Yeah?”
“Stop pushing me. I can handle it,” he explains, tone serious.
“Oh, no,” her hand is trembling still. “It’s fine, it’s no bother for me, Captain.”
“… It’s an order,” he commands after a moment. She stops in her tracks and he can hear a gentle laugh coming from behind him.
“It had been a while since that, huh.” Confidently, she places one of her hands on his shoulder, gently tapping it. Levi smiles. Barely curving his lips, but he does. He is about to be brave, hold her hand on his shoulder when she removes it from him. “Shit,” he thinks. “Too slow… Too slow? Slow for what? Tsk.”
Despite his missing fingers, he can still push his wheelchair quite properly. It also helps that he can see his street far ahead. She walks comfortably besides him, a silence and gentle ghost as his most devoted companion.
Yeah. There’s definitely something aching in his chest. He had been noticing the past days, feeling getting more painful as they both approach his place. And it has nothing to do with his faulty joints or damaged body or excessive age.
When they reach his door, she asks for his key. Levi gives it to her, his hand lingering for a second too long, reflecting on the brief touch of hands as she grabs it to unlock the door.
He is tired.
And he feels incredibly silly when he realises he doesn’t want her to leave.
“There we go, Captain. I help you in?” she suggests with a bright smile, opening the door.
“… Yes.”
She steps inside and pushes the chair into his living room, almost getting it next to his couch.
“That’s enough” he decides, in a semblance of independency he still wants to maintain.
She nods. “Okay… I guess… I’ll get going, Captain.”
Levi lifts up his gaze. He wants to ask… He wants to know… He savours her image for a moment, her tired expression and the way her dress now looks clumsy and wrinkled but he doesn’t care. Before, before everything had ended up like this he would remind every single cadet to iron their uniforms, all the outfits presentable, so as to look like respectable soldiers and honourable bodies if the occasion arose. Now she can have the privilege of looking messy. Of not worrying about death so often.
“No,” he mutters.
“Huh?” she inquires, taking a step forward.
“Shit,” Levi thinks. “I… I want tea,” he makes up a quick lie.
“Oh, sure. Yes, Captain.” She leaves her bag on the couch and goes into the kitchen, getting a kettle full of water.
He looks at her in quiet admiration.
He doesn’t deserve her. But again, he doesn’t really deserve anything. He already has gotten too much: spoiled by the sweet possibility of life when all his comrades have fallen, their bodies twisted, mangled by titans and enemies alike.
Levi hardly cries, but he wants to cry in that moment. She turns on the stove for him, and rummages through his cabinets. She finds two cups and a sob is trapped inside his throat.
He doesn’t fucking understand why she stays, why she puts up with his sorry ass but, damn it. Damn it if he at least doesn’t try.
He stands up. His body still holds that ability, though his legs get tired rather quickly. He can still walk, so he does until he reaches the kitchen. She is still deciding on the teas when she sees him.
“Oh, no, Captain, please, just don’t…”
He interrupts her, grabs her waist carelessly and pushes her towards the couch, barely moving her.
“Let me handle it myself.”
“Levi…” She whispers, their faces inches apart.
“Go. Sit,” he mumbles, biting his lips and sending his eyes lower, so as to avoid her face.
“Are you sure?” She inquires a moment after, still close to him. He notices she has a hand on his waist as well, a protective aid making sure he stays on two feet.
“Yes,” he says, more commanding this time. He grabs that hand of hers and pushes her away gently now.
She nods, understandingly.
“I’ll be in the living room,” she adds.
Levi nods at her, making sure she finally gets that ass of hers in the couch. He is now faced with his kitchen. Most of the cups and teas, everything has been moved lower, so as to accommodate to his wheelchair. Slowly, he kneels, searching for a specific flavour for her. When he finally finds the peppermint and rose one, he mentally cheers. He stands up again, slowly, as if to show confidence, making sure from his peripheral view that she isn’t coming to his aid.
She isn’t. He catches her averting her eyes, though. A confirmation that she has been staring.
He decides to stare as well. Supporting himself on his weakened legs, he waits for the kettle to boil, while looking at her. It’s as if she could notice that, because her head doesn’t move, still fixated on an indescriptible point in his living room.
“Oi, what you looking at?” He says, a bit more light-hearted.
A smile forms on her lips before she even turns her head towards him. She doesn’t answer. Just keeps smiling at him.
“Fuck,” he thinks when he realises he has also slightly curved his lips.
Quickly he turns towards the stove, the kettle already boiling. Levi carefully fills the cups with water, letting the leaves rest. He lifts his gaze up to her for a second but it is already enough for her to notice.
“Need help with the cups?” Her, always so worried, so in tune with his needs. No need for words.
“Of fucking course.”
Still, the only answer he gives her is a polite nod. She stands up, approaching him.
“I’ll handle it, Captain. Just take a seat.”
He lets out a sigh, taking himself to the couch and plopping himself there.
“It’s hard,” Levi thinks as he sees her come back to the living room, two cups in her hands. He accepts the drink, his gaze not leaving her features. “I… I can’t.”
He knows he can’t accept kindness: he doesn’t know how to. Still, he tenses his jaw and forces himself to sip the tea as she takes a seat next to him.
“Peppermint, huh?” She hums mostly to herself.
“… Yeah,” comes out of his mouth, unsure, less braver than expected. Is he insecure? Has he made a mistake?
“Good choice” She declares and he breathes again, realising that he had been holding his breath. “Bet you already knew that, right?” She adds, cocking her head.
Levi looks at her again. He has been avoiding her eyes but he hadn’t been trained as a soldier to back down in times of peace.
“I did,” he says, his tone firm, a very weak attempt at showing confidence still. “It’s the one you would always ask for when we would have meetings with the Scouts.”
“It’s good tea.” Her tone seems softer now.
Levi hums, too deep inside his mind to notice it.
She wonders. Wonders if he has ever realized that the only reason she would wander through the headquarters late at night was just to be found and reprimanded by him, the way she would be easily entertained by Levi’s stern face. Wondered if Hange had ever told him about the time she had fallen asleep in their office and woke up, mumbling his name, much to Hange’s delight, though they had promised to keep it a secret.
He looks down at his legs, at his carpeted floor.
He wonders if she had ever noticed the way he would mindlessly lick his lips after looking at her, the boring uniform suddenly a beautiful outfit, making her stand out. Wonders if it was too late to tell her that, yes, after Hange and her had found him, and stitched him up, that he had heard every single word she had uttered near his heart, softly pressing her timid hands on his chest. There hadn’t been time then to discuss anything or even think if it had meant anything else than old scouts being protective of each other, but now…
They finish their teas in silence. It isn’t uncomfortable, rather the opposite, despite the fact that Levi has started nervously tapping his feet against the floor. It is dark outside already, the light from the lamps flowing into Levi’s house, a dog barking a few blocks away.
She stands up, makes sure to wash her cup in the sink and put it away before returning to him.
“Captain?” She mutters. No need for more words.
Levi hands her the cup with slow movements, as if trying to prolong that insignificant action for as long as possible. And when she is already about to head into the kitchen, little plate and teacup in her hand, he decides to be brave. No more lying to himself, no more being a coward. Too many people have died, have bleed, have sacrificed the little they had for a selected group of survivors to be able to live. To enjoy the remaining Earth. For the little ones that survived to be able to find some meaning. Something worth all the pain.
Basking in the fear serves no one. In fact, makes all the death meaningless.
So, Levi looks up at her and grabs her hand, even if he is scared still. Trembling fingers dancing on hers until they secure her hand softly in his. He feels warm even if he doesn’t know what to say, how to convey what he feels. Such a shadow of the man he was. So stupid now.
Levi just wants her to say.
She gasps at the contact but quickly composes herself. A shy smile showing up on her face. They stay like that for a moment, neither daring to break the silence.
“Levi?” She asks after a moment, moving closer to his face, as if asking for permission.
He can only look at her lips in reply.
She shortens the distance between them and kisses him on his lips. It isn’t a big kiss, too flashy or provocative: just a tender contact between two broken people. As soon as he has processed what was going on, she has already moved forward, pressing a kiss on the tip of his nose.
And then, even higher, another kiss on his forehead, her lips remaining close to his face. Levi can’t say anything. Barely reacting. But when she looks at his eyes, she is greeted by the sweet glimmer of tears in them.
Levi. Happy, at last.
And as if reading his mind, she utters: “Do you want me to stay, Levi?”
“Yes. Yes, I do.”
She complies. In the quiet, late hours of the night, Levi wakes up, his body feeling too rested already. It was a habit hard to break, he wouldn’t sleep much anyway. He sighs still, feeling her body pressing against his, holding him from behind. She has one hand on his shoulder, the other keeping him safe and secured, hugging his waist close. He dares to smile and grab that hand across his belly with both of his hands, so as to make sure that it is real: he is being held. There is someone else with him. Levi isn’t alone. Someone is taking care of him. Someone he’s been devoted to for so many years.
He wants to nuzzle up closer, hide in her chest or neck and feel more.
But he doesn’t dare to. He can’t allow himself to do that yet.
So he stays awake in silence, hearing the soothing and steady rhythm of her heartbeat.
Levi still doesn’t understand, though.
He doesn’t want to think of why she has chosen him, how he got this privilege so late in his life, when all hope seems to be lost and the thought of a partner didn’t cross his mind at all. He also doesn’t know what to do with this gift, this blessing. Why? How? He is such a crippled shadow of what he used to be. Slow, so consumed by roughness and violence and so useless now.
He has always had something to fight for: his life, his friends, his Squad, Erwin, Hange. Yet since the Rumbling he has just… fallen behind. He is just existing and it seems like his body has finally caught up to his age: no longer agile and strong, but a weakened man, finally leaving the survival mode that has characterised every single aspect of his life. He doesn’t have any goals or dreams now. Everything had been slowly trampled down like the titans destroying all land and all life.
He shivers, remembering that day and holds her hand tighter.
Once he had completed the promise made to Erwin, his last order, he had nothing more. No more commands. No more slaying titans.
Just existing.
He doesn’t want that. He has been a fighter, a rebel, a monster his whole life. He only knew of endurance and compliance with the spirit of life, of resistance. He doesn’t know of anything else: the calmness, the quietness, the routine walks and just reading books and sitting on his porch… That is not him. That isn’t life. Being able to choose things for himself, devour life gently and enjoy it instead of painfully trying to keep it close, to grip it between calloused fingers… Peace isn’t familiar.
He has nothing to devote himself to, nothing to prove or fight for.
“Yeah,” he thinks. “Everything is… meaningless… Or it was.”
He closes his eyes, relinquishing himself in the warm body against his.
Some things… Some things have meaning still.
Her.
The way she would scrunch her nose when laughing or buy him drinks or attempt to make him laugh or wear that damn stupid wrinkled dress and — “Fuck. I know her so much by now…”
She had been a Scout too. She had fought and devoted her heart and did everything a Scout had to do. She had fulfilled her duty in the same way he did. She has survived and she doesn’t regret a single thing. Not even this life.
She is at peace.
He wants to sob.
He doesn’t understand peace. Sure, it was his goal, what he always dreamed of, but, damn it. Levi had never thought he would actually get to see something resembling it. Unlike her. She understood what it was: she has accepted peace with open arms and a smile that — fuck, somehow— has been shining on her face throughout the years. Despite so much pain and death… She still allows herself to fucking live in peace. She forgave herself for the death, for the pain and crimes and let go.
He isn’t sure if he can do the same.
Peace is foreign, strange even. An oddity. And he isn’t stupid, he knows that time would run up someday and that things would turn against them for a second time.
But, still, the promise of the rest of his life in peace lingers.
He could have it.
He fucking could.
Levi reflects on those thoughts for a moment, silent still.
He thinks he can get to an agreement. Maybe, when she wakes up in the morning, he can try to spill his soul to her a little. Try to understand how she handles this life, how she can get up in the mornings after killing so much, and just have tea with him.
But for now, in the quietness of the night, as the old warrior he was, he does the only thing he knows: he promises to dedicate his heart once more.
He finally has a reason, a purpose, something worth protecting again.
Levi lifts his hand, crossing it on his chest the way all Scouts would do. But he doesn’t press it on his heart, but rather, moves it to hold her hand, the one resting on his shoulder. He squeezes it gently, suddenly feeling too overwhelmed by her. By the silent love she had been proclaiming to him all these years and that he couldn’t reciprocate before.
Yes. Now it is the time.
Levi would dedicate his heart once more.
To her and only her.
That may have been the cheesiest ending ever written but !!!! He deserves it, I know. Also someone stop me before I write for Hange, the feelings got to me indeed. Dividers by @/cafekitsune @/saradika and @/vase-of-lilies
cw: senku accidentally makes an aphrodisiac and fem!reader helps him out... minors dni! smut but no penetration. american colony au.
Senku rarely makes mistakes, ever, but as Gen has so often pointed out, luck is very often not on the young man’s side - in fact, luck seems to avoid him as though punishing him for refusing to leave his life up to fate.
Minutes after he’s taken the potion that had been designated by the village doctor as an analgesic, he realizes quickly he’s made a grave one. Sweat beads on his forehead as he breathes in, the very action of drawing in a breath serving to increase the deafening drumbeat in his ears. Thump, thump, thump. The heat clouding his mind right now as he tries to remember where exactly he went wrong, what could have possibly happened to have him in fetal position, tensed up everywhere but especially in the space in between his legs.
Top shelf, to the right. A small vial stopped up with a cork.
Cork. It shouldn’t be a cork, he remembers suddenly. She had said the bottle might be hard to twist open. He must have taken something else. What else could explain the fact that all the blood coursing through his body seems to have collected to one place only, giving him the hardest erection he’s ever had in his life?
The scientist can’t claim to never have thought about sex. After all, he’s young and healthy and as curious about his body as anyone else, even if he’s not so easily persuaded by the prospect of soft round breasts or plush thighs as others, and he prides himself in knowing the basic workings of everything including that particular type of recreation.
Now it’s all he can think about as he shivers and flushes, blood gorged cock throbbing and desperate to be touched in any way, shape or form.
He’s initially thankful that he was struck by this affliction while hiding away in the lookout tower in the middle of the night because of its privacy and the ability to rub one or ten out and hopefully turn into a logical human once again, but once he can hear the familiar soft pad of your footsteps approaching up the stairs, he’s repetitively cursing his rotten luck under his strangled breath.
Scrambling from his position sat in the corner, back against the wall, he quickly finds his way onto a chair, but stumbles, and when your eyes fall onto him, he’s practically face down.
“Senku?”
Your voice is soft as usual, not completely sure it’s him in the dim light. Moonlight illuminates part of the wide room, and when he finally rolls over to a cross-legged position, doing his best to hide the embarrassing bump in his clothes, you look at him quizzically.
“Fancy meeting you here!” Senku exclaims. There’s an uncharacteristic upturn to his voice that is a cause for concern.
“You mean, in the tower you supposedly made for me?” you ask. Senku pales, but you’re already sliding down to sit cross-legged next to him.
“Are you doing okay?” you ask. Leaning over to press a hand to his forehead, you frown at the dampness, while a shudder passes through Senku’s entire body the moment the back of your hand grazes him.
“I’m fine,” he says, coughing to cover up the strain in his voice. His body language is slightly turned away, and so is his face, because he can’t look at you, not like this. Desire pools in his chest heavily, so thick he can barely breathe, and your sweet voice is like water dripping onto an already overfilled cup.
“You don’t sound fine,” you muse. You think of yourself just weeks ago insisting on being left alone despite a raging pneumonia, and move in closer, a move that has him retreat like a trapped mouse. “Did you take the medicine for your headache like you were supposed to?”
Senku would roll his eyes if it weren’t for the fact that an accidental brush of your hand against his could make them roll into the back of his head.
“Your friend might be a quack,” he says, but then quickly adds in fairness, “...the truth is I think I might have picked up something I wasn’t supposed to.”
He laughs, and then feels his cock jump and scrambles to his feet to stand further away. You’re troubled by his anxiety and his refusal to look you in the eye and after a few more questions about his mental and physical state, you decide you’re tired of his dodging questions.
“Senku, what the hell is going on?”
“Nothing,” he lies. He’s thinking of a way to escape without you noticing, but you’ve moved now, and are standing right in front of him, far too close, and your upset look is simply too pretty, and he looks at you almost fearfully.
“I need to go,” he says, and tries to move past you, but you immediately block his path.
“Senku.”
It only takes one look at the knit in your eyebrows to realize he’s not going to make out of this without the truth. He’s still flushing intermittently, and can feel the tip of his dick more exquisitely than any other part of his body. It takes him a moment to decide, but eventually he realizes he can approach this embarrassing predicament in the best way he can think of.
Logically.
“Whatever I took… I think might be having aphrodisiacal effects on me.”
You blink, bright eyes wide with every bat of your lashes, and he feels the genuine pull of yearning in his loins.
“Oh.”
Senku blushes, the warmth spreading throughout his whole body this time as you finally look down then quickly avert your gaze. In a flash, he wonders for the first time how much you know about sex. Are you a virgin? When was your first time? With who? Would you do it again? With him?
The last thought he immediately banishes from his mind, telling himself that it’s likely the effects of whatever potent concoction is clouding his rationale. Not now. If ever, not this way.
“I… I can help, you know,” you offer. Your voice is quiet, gentle and steady, the same way you speak when you talk to the animals when they misbehave, when you want to reassure without controlling. “Platonically, of course,” you quickly add.
Platonically. Of course. It’s just an urge, and you understand those animalistic urges pretty well, given your breadth of experience in the natural sciences. Just a want. It wouldn’t be a crime if…
You move in close, your hand hovering over his crotch but not touching him. You then look at him, asking with your pupils, and he can swear he can feel his dilate. He nods, and you let your fingers slip beneath the layers of fabric until they reach the slightly coarse grain of his pubes. Your lips part slightly as you move slowly; he’s holding his breath but the moment your finger grazes the skin of his firm shaft, he lets out a moan, covering his mouth immediately to shut himself up.
“It’s fine,” you reassure him. He’s embarrassed, suppressing pants, but you press forward, letting your fingers close around his shaft, one by one. Grip still awkward, Senku shifts, pulling down his pants further, and you pull your lower lip before your teeth briefly before you tug smoothly for the first time. He gasps, and you press your thumb on the tip, right at the orifice of his urethra.
“Have you ever done this before?” you ask, wondering if you should have asked earlier. The small talk is meant to make it more casual, less intimate, but he’s quick to shake his head and say no, breathily.
“Not by anyone who mattered.”
Your heart flutters and you move just a bit faster. Senku moans, throwing his head back, and you keep your pace.
“Is that enough? Are you feeling good?” You slip. You mean better. You’re not trying to pleasure him, you’re trying to help him.
“Fuck, can you… more… can you-” he stops, then bites his lip. He’s breathing heavier now, the expansion of his chest much more noticeable. He glances at you for a moment, then quickly looks away. If he were to do what he wants to do, ask you for more, press his lips onto yours, would it be using you? Is he allowed to ask that of you? Is it just this… or something else?
Your hand has stopped but he’s whining now, bucking his hips into the base of your fist almost subconsciously. You grip tighter, then slide up and down his shaft again, pressing against the darkened tip more, now slippery with treacherous precum. It occurs to you for a moment that maybe, maybe just a bit more friction would help, and you take the initiative of spitting on your hand, then resuming and he moans, fingers pressed to the floor beside him tensing and tightening as he accepts your onslaught.
Straggled groans escaping his throat, his eyes close, and you watch his Adam's apple bob as he swallows spit and desire. He’s thirsty, needy, unsure if this is making it better or worse.
And just at that moment, you ask, “Are you feeling better, Senku?”
Oh, the way you say his name, he practically spills into your hand.
“D-don’t talk…” he begs, and your face flinches with hurt, but you remember that you are only helping.
“Mm.”
Your hand keeps moving, and you watch his cock throb and twitch in its grasp. It’s a pretty thing, you let yourself consider for a moment, pretty like the rest of him, eager, greedy… it has been a while, you think, since you’ve been so intimate with someone.
Not intimate. That’s not what this is. You’re helping a friend.
Senku grits his teeth as you spit on your hand again and your moistened palm swirls around his cock.
There’s no reason for you to be so good at touching him like this. He exhales.
“I’d be a real piece of shit if I asked you for more, wouldn’t I right now?” he finally asks. He’s looking at the ceiling now, trying to contain himself, but how can he when you’re touching him like this and he feels better than he’s ever felt in his life. He’s only mildly coherent at this point, perhaps he should count backwards, perhaps…
“Tell me what you want, Senku, I’ll do my best.”
He turns, and you look at him in just that moment, but you don’t let go of him.
His hand goes to the back of your neck, pulling you closer and he stops quickly, inches apart.
You’ve closed your eyes, and you’ve puckered your lips just so. Senku swallows hard, wondering how he could have ever stopped but he knows why.
“It’s not the drugs,” he’s able to eke out. Your eyes open, gentle as they look into his, your lips still parted. Your hand shifts, palm rested on the edge of his warm length.
“It’s not the drugs,” you repeat.
“I’d feel like this anyway, in this moment,” Senku says. A moment passes. Your tongues passes over your dry lips.
“Do you mean it?”
Senku doesn’t hesitate, before saying yes.
You press your lips to his first, letting him press his way in and explore, letting him bite your lip and suck, and pass his tongue against your teeth, letting him tip your neck backwards and deepen the kiss. You kiss, and you move your hands and your lips part, and you dip lower, to make him feel pleasure like he’s never seen.
Synopsis: While Michael attends to his duties as a devoted husband (taking you to pound town), the maids arrive unnoticed. Drawn by the sinful sounds echoing from your bedroom, they find themselves unable to resist eavesdropping.
Tags: smut, established-relationship (y'all are married <3), OCs, p in v, mating press, voyeurism, creampie, overstimulation, oral (fem receiving), fingering, lots of drama, legal ramifications, mike being the worlds no. 1 husband.
Word Count: 7.2k
Requested: yes/no
Author’s Note: Although I'm proud of this, the writing process for this was hell! But anyway, I need detailed reports on what y'all think about everything as compensation, thank you very much.
Links: navigation | masterlist | taglist
The noise of the curtains fluttering from the warm wind and the quiet chatter of the TV wakes you from your slumber. It's most definitely way past the acceptable time for a lie-in, probably closer to noon, but you don't care. With the way last night ended, with shared moans bouncing off the walls, no one could blame you. He had been so desperate for your touch after shutting himself in the studio for hours, hungrily taking you again and again until you couldn't string sentences together anymore.
Speaking of the incubus himself, as you open your eyes, before you can even muster up the strength to stretch your sore limbs, you're met with a tantalizing sight of Michael sprawled out on the bed next to you, absentmindedly watching the television. He's leaning against a pillow propped up against the headboard, completely nude. This isn't surprising, but what captures your attention is his soft and heavy length resting enticingly against his thigh, looking as delicious as ever. You try to ignore the slickness pooling between your thighs.
His cock is a sight to behold, thick and veiny, with a prominent ridge running along the underside. The head, peeks out from his uncut foreskin, is swollen and glistening with remnants of your previous night's activities. You can't tear your eyes away from it, from the way it lays there just waiting for your touch.
You groan inwardly. How is he so nonchalant about this? How can he just sit there, so casually, with his massive cock on full display? Doesn't he know what effect it has on you, how it makes you crave him like nothing else?
You keep staring shamelessly, your eyes trailing every little detail. In your already fuzzy state, you don't notice Michael glancing at you, an amused smile growing on his face as he follows your half-lidded gaze.
Teasingly, he readjusts his body, making his hips thrust upwards slightly, causing his thick cock to bounce a little. You whimper quietly, but loud enough for him to hear. That sound doesn't even register in your mind until you hear him chuckle. Your eyes dart upwards to his face, feeling your cheeks grow hotter under his amused gaze.
"Enjoying the view, huh?" he teases, and you quickly turn onto your back, facing the opposite direction to avoid his stare.
"None of that," he murmurs, reaching over to cup your face and gently turn your gaze back to him. "Look at me."
And you do. Goodness gracious, how does he manage to be so gorgeous even with his curls messily framing his face? Your eyes linger on his lips as you try not to look directly into his eyes. The corner of his mouth twitches into a smirk as he gently positions your face higher, silently commanding you to meet his gaze.
His long fingers trace your cheeks as he brings your faces closer together, forehead to forehead, noses bumping. He leaves the softest of kisses on your cheeks before pressing his lips to yours. The kiss is slow and unrushed; he doesn't even bother moving his lips much, just softly keeps them pressed against yours.
"Did you sleep well, baby?" he asks after pulling away, making you unconsciously lean in for more. You nod and nuzzle your cheek deeper into his warm palm. "Yeah? I'm not too surprised," he says, trying to suppress a smirk. You had fallen asleep last night while he was cleaning you up during aftercare, that's how thoroughly he had tired you out, but it's not like you're complaining. You playfully hit his chest..
Michael's chuckle rumbles through his chest, vibrating against your skin as you lay there, feeling the warmth of his body seeping into yours. He shifts slightly, the movement drawing your eyes back down to his impressive length. He notices and smirks again, his hand moving to gently guide your chin, lifting your face to meet his gaze once more.
"I know what you’re thinking about," he begins, his voice a low, seductive purr, “know what you’re craving."
Your breath hitches at his words, the passion in his eyes making your heart flutter. His thumb strokes your cheek, and he leans in, pressing another tender but more heated kiss to your lips. The kiss deepens this time, his tongue gently parting your lips, exploring your mouth with a languid passion that leaves you breathless. When he pulls away, his eyes are dark with desire.
His hands trail from your hips to your naked pussy, cupping it in his large palm, feeling the warm skin against his hand. The sensation sends a shiver up your spine, making you gasp. His finger slips through your folds, gliding between your glistening flesh with ease. He chuckles softly, his breath warm against your ear, "Always so needy, aren't you?"
Before you can respond with an eye roll at his usual teasing, he moves on top of you, spreading your thighs wide. Your breath catches in your throat as you look up at him. He groans at the sight of your drenched pussy, marveling at it for what feels like an eternity. His eyes hungrily stare at your already pulsing clit, desperately begging for attention.
"Do I have to fuck you every morning for you to function properly?"
Your heartbeat quickens at his words, your hips bucking towards him instinctively. He spreads your thighs even farther apart, shushing your whines with an authoritative raise of his brows. "You know what to say," he prompts, his voice low and commanding.
"...Please touch me," you murmur shyly, your voice barely above a whisper.
He decides to tease you further, enjoying the power he has over you, "What was that? I didn't quite hear you."
"Please, Michael," you beg, a little louder this time, "please fuck me."
"That's more like it," he says with a satisfied expression, taking in your already needy state before reaching over to his nightstand. He opens the top drawer and grabs a bottle of lube, squirting a generous amount onto his lengthy shaft. He strokes his cock a few times, ensuring it's well-lubricated. Without the lube, it's impossible for him to ever make love to you without unwanted pain; he's just too big. Whatever's left on his fingers he spreads it across your already glossy folds, circling your hole for longer than is necessary.
He gives you a look, silently making sure you still want this. After you nod enthusiastically he positions himself at your tight entrance, dragging his swollen tip up and down your flesh before gently pushing in the head, watching as your cunt stretches around him. With the events of last night, it's not as difficult as it might have been otherwise. His cockhead slips past your folds with ease, and you already feel yourself clenching around him.
"Needy girl," he murmurs under his breath, his voice thick with desire.
He torturously slowly slides half of his cock into your wetness and pulls out. Repeating this endlessly until his fat length is fully swallowed by your greedy pussy, “There we go,” he breathes out at finally watching your folds stretch around his thickness. His prominent veins deliciously rub against your slick walls, eliciting breathless moans from your lips. Your eyes flutter from the stretch, the sensation overwhelming, head pressing deeper into the plush pillow.
He steals a peck from your lips and squeezes your hips. He thrusts slowly at first, hips grinding smoothly at a mellow pace, savoring every inch of you. Consequently, making you think he's going to go easy on you but when has Michael Jackson ever been predictable?
At a speed that has your eyes widening he presses you further into the bed, folding your legs closer to your shoulders, putting you in a deep mating press that leaves you breathless. Before you can utter more than his name, he drives his hips against the back of your thighs, completely filling you up. “Jesus fucking christ Michael.” you choked out.
He picks up the pace, ramming his meaty cock into your squelching pussy. Your essence creates a white ring around his base, making him groan in pleasure. This new angle allows you to feel every inch of him deeper and deeper inside you. You can't control yourself, your moans growing louder and louder. Your eyes screwed shut, mouth hanging open as filthy whines and moans escape.
As he keeps pounding you into the mattress, he looks at your face and almost cums on the spot. The sounds in the bedroom are sinful - a mix of your moans and his grunts blending together, the bed banging against the wall with every hard thrust of his hips, skin slapping rhythmically.
"Look at you, already going dumb on my cock," he awes, his voice full of adoration.
You nod while not quite sure what you’re agreeing to, his words barely registering in your mind through the haze of pleasure. His smirk widens at your response, watching your nails dig into the sheets. The room starts to fill with the smell of sex, the musky scent only turning him on more.
He continues to fuck you fast and hard, his coily pubic hair rubbing against your throbbing clit, making your hips buck, chasing more of that sweet friction. Your moans grow louder, and if his cock wasn't so good, you'd try to be quieter. But all you can think about is how good he feels inside you, stretching you, filling you completely.
Your heavenly sounds drive him wild, he loves how in the mornings your sleepiness makes you more uninhibited, your cries ringing through his ears. But still, he decides to reach over towards the remote, turning up the volume of the TV to drown out the noises. Although he's never cared about the maids or security hearing him, he knows that when you come down from your high, you'll appreciate this gesture.
As you both lose yourselves in the throes of passion, the maids: Annie, Susie, and Diana make their way towards the entrance of the sprawling estate for their weekly cleaning duties. The warm rays of the sun cast a serene ambiance over the grounds, punctuated by the tranquil chirping of birds, blissfully masking the storm of debauchery that awaits them inside.
"You know, I still can't believe they faked everything," Susie remarks, squinting against the sunlight.
"I'm actually not that surprised, they always seemed fishy to me," Annie replies and smiles at Susie’s scrunched up face.
"Come on now, they named themselves Milli Vanilli, what kind of name is that?" Diana chimes in, adding her two cents to the conversation.
As they ascend the doorsteps and open the front door, entering the home, Annie continues her thought, "I mean, all singers lip-sync now. They're just the ones that got ca—"
Diana abruptly pinches Annie’s arm, cutting her off with a sharp sting, "Ow, what the hell—"
"Girl, shush!" Diana whispers urgently, motioning for silence.
The three maids strain their ears, their attention drawn by the unmistakable erotic sounds emanating from the bedroom—a rhythm of skin slapping against skin, accentuated by soft moans and gasps. Susie instinctively covers her mouth, freezing in place with wide eyes. None of them move a muscle as they process what they are hearing.
"Are they…?" Annie starts tentatively.
"Oh, absolutely." With wide eyes they exchange shocked glances. None of them move a muscle, unsure how to handle the unexpected discovery. Honestly how do you go about stumbling across your boss fucking his wife?
Diana, always the boldest of the trio, begins to tiptoe toward the hallway leading to the bedroom, prompting panicked whispers from the others.
"Diana! What are you doing?" Annie hisses urgently.
Rolling her eyes, Diana smirks back at them. "As if you two aren't just as curious," she retorts, continuing her stealthy approach toward the imposing double doors that shield a scene of raw intimacy unfolding behind them. Annie and Susie exchange resigned groans but follow cautiously behind.
Pressing their ears against the wood, they strain to catch every moan and whispered utterance, their curiosity piqued despite the scandalous nature of their eavesdropping.
"This is crazy," Susie breathes out in a hushed voice.
Unaware of the maids' clandestine surveillance, Michael drives into you with unrelenting force, his powerful hips slamming with yours in a relentless rhythm. Each thrust sends waves of pleasure coursing through your body, your senses overwhelmed by the delicious sensation of every ridge and vein of his cock stretching you to your limits. Your back arches instinctively, your slick walls gripping him tightly, sucking him deeper into your warmth.
"Greedy fucking pussy," Michael's voice groans with desire, strained with the effort of holding back. he mutters, the words laced with need. "Squeezing me so tight."
"P-please," you stutter, your voice barely a whisper amid the relentless assault of his powerful thrusts. "It’s too much."
"You can take it," he growls, his breath hot against your skin as he leans closer, his chain dangling temptingly in front of your face. "I know you can. You’re my good girl." His movements are deliberate, claiming you completely.
In a moment of pure instinct, you gently bite his shoulder, your nails digging into his skin as pleasure overtakes you. The bed beneath you rocks with each forceful rock of his hips, the headboard banging rhythmically against the wall. The murmur of the TV in the background does little to mask the crescendo of your combined moans and the sound of skin slapping against skin.
He adjusts his position slightly, angling his length to hit that sweet spot deep inside you. Your entire body trembles with the promise of release, his warm breath against your neck adding to the overwhelming sensations flooding your senses.
Meanwhile, outside the bedroom, Susie murmurs breathlessly, "Y’all hearing this shit?" Her pulse quickens with excitement. "I’ve never heard anything like it."
"That damn TV, can’t hear anything," Diana complains, pressing her ear harder against the wall in a futile attempt to drown out the sounds from within.
"They're really going at it, huh?" Annie whispers, trying to stifle a chuckle. "Didn't know Mr. Jackson had it in him." Her eyes widen with playful astonishment. "I mean, I knew he was passionate, but this...?"
"Lord forgive me for sinning," Susie quips, crossing herself dramatically as Diana giggles at her theatrics. "Oh, stop it, you."
"And half the country thinks he's a virgin," Annie adds with a sly grin. "Isn't that ironic?" Their cheeky banter fades as they're filled with arousal and a twinge of envy, listening intently to the man they've all undoubtedly fantasized about, lost in passion with his beloved behind closed doors.
Back in the bedroom, Michael pulls back to look into your eyes, his own darkened with lust. He grips your jaw and "You like that, baby? You like being fucked like this?" His words send shivers down your spine, your gummy walls instantly tighten around him.
"Yes," you gasp, your voice breaking with need. "God, yes."
"I want you to make a mess on my cock," he murmurs, his voice low and commanding, igniting a fresh wave of heat within you. "Can you do that for me, sweetheart?" You nod eagerly, breathless whimpers escaping your lips.
"Listen to how loud she's moaning," Annie murmurs from outside, her voice tinged with envy. "She must be feeling real good."
As you approach the brink of release, Michael grins devilishly, his movements becoming almost frantic to draw out the exquisite tension building between you. With every plunge of his fat cock sliding deeper and deeper, kissing your cervix, your legs tremble, your body quivering as you hurtle toward release. You cry out as your orgasm rips through you, driving you to a point of true wanton. Uninhibited, sinful moans echo through the room as you claw at the sheets.
Unable to handle your pulsing walls clinging to him he pounds you into the mattress, chasing his own high. As your body is covered in a thin sheen of sweat you try to calm down but the feeling on his bulbous tip flooding your pussy with his hot spurts of cum pushes you towards overstimulation. He sucks love marks on your neck to stifle his groans, as he feels his voluminous cum fill you up completely. He doesn't slow down, riding out your climax, driving you higher and higher until you're nothing but a trembling, incoherent mess beneath him.
Outside, the maids are spellbound, ears pressed against the door, their own breaths quickening in unison with yours.
"Oh my fucking God," Susie whispers, barely audible over the symphony of pleasure spilling from the bedroom.
"Shh!"
The maids, captivated, listen intently to your gasps as you climax. They wait a few more moments, taking in the heavy breathing and murmurs of endearment between you and Michael. Once the sounds start to subside, Diana gestures for them to move. “We should get out of here before they catch us.”
“Uh huh,” Susie agrees, her voice trembling slightly. They tiptoe away from the door, retreating to an empty room down the hall, locking themselves in.
Once inside, they're all breathing heavily, heart pounding in their chests. The air is thick with anticipation, their faces flushed with arousal.
"I- uh…holy shit," Susie’s voice is hushed but tinged with excitement. "She was so loud."
"No shit," Annie replies, her own breath still coming in short bursts. "I mean, it sounded like he was breaking her in half."
“You reckon his dick is really as big as they say?”
“Jesus Christ D, give us a moment to breathe.”
“I’m just saying, that girl’s always so quiet and sweet you know? Don’t think she’d be the type to fake her moans unless that dick is real good.'' Diana shrugs with a little grin on her face.
Susie fans herself with her hands, trying to cool down. “Yeah that's true, she’s always blushing and looking down when she talks to us, but here she is taking all that from him.”
Annie tries to be civil about all this but can’t help but add, “you think they go at it all the time?”
Diana’s grin grows wider as she nods. “You know it ain’t just a quick thing either, he probably takes his time too, making sure she’s thoroughly satisfied.”
“Lucky girl. I wouldn't mind being in her shoes,” Susie says dreamily.
Diana leans against the door, a mischievous glint in her eye. "You and me both,” she continues, “I gotta say, we have to do that again."
Annie looks at her, bewildered. "Are you crazy? We can’t just stand outside their door listening to them fuck."
Diana rolls her eyes. "Oh, come on. With how hard they were going at it, it's not far-fetched to think they'll do it again tonight. We should wait till they go back to their bedroom and listen in again."
"Absolutely not," Annie insists, crossing her arms defiantly. "That's crossing a line."
But Diana persists, knowing the curiosity and desire are mutual. "Oh, stop with this fake righteous act, y’all liked it, admit it."
Annie looks to Susie for support, but she just shrugs, clearly intrigued by the idea. Diana smirks, sensing victory. "See? Even Susie wants more." Susie, usually the shy one, surprises Annie by siding with Diana. "I mean… It was kinda hot.”
Annie huffs but doesn't entirely reject the idea. Diana’s enthusiasm is infectious, and deep down, Annie knows she’s curious too. "Fine. But how are we gonna do it without getting caught?"
Diana’s smirk grows wider. "We just gotta be smart about it. We know their routine. Once they’re back in the bedroom tonight, we’ll sneak up and listen. Simple."
Annie finally relents, though still cautious. "If we get caught, it’s on you, D."
Diana grins, clearly enjoying the thrill. "Trust me, it'll be worth it." The three of them continue to hash out their plot, excitement hanging thick in the air.
The trio finally compose themselves after their illicit eavesdropping and gossip session, deciding it's time to actually get to work. They set about their cleaning tasks, though the air between them crackles with the shared secret. Every now and then, one of them breaks the silence with a hushed comment or a knowing glance, the earlier events still fresh in their minds.
As they tidy the living room, the sound of a door opening draws their attention. Michael and you emerge from the bedroom, your body language relaxed and content, a stark contrast to the intense passion that had filled the room earlier. Michael's arm drapes protectively around your waist as he guides you towards the kitchen, his touch gentle and reassuring.
The maids exchange glances, curiosity piqued once more. "Look at them," Susie whispers, her voice barely above a breath. "She looks so satisfied."
Annie, ever the observant one, nods and without looking up continues to do her job. "Bet she is.”
Diana snickers. "Yeah, she looks fucked out, she was moaning so loud. Damn near broke my eardrums." if they hadn't heard your desperate pleas and whimpers they’d definitely find it hard to question your innocence.
From their vantage point in the living room, they peek into the kitchen. You sit down heavily on one of the chairs, your body spent and exhausted, fingers lazily tracing random patterns on the marble counter as you lean your head on your arm . Michael kisses the top of your head and moves with practiced ease, starting to prepare a quick meal for you. His movements are efficient yet tender, his focus solely on making sure you're taken care of.
As you absentmindedly glance around, your eyes meet Susie's. You smile gently and give her a small wave. For a moment, there's a flash of recognition in her widened eyes before she quickly returns the greeting with a shy nod. She turns back to Annie and Diana, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment.
"She saw me," Susie whispers, her voice a mixture of panic and excitement. "She smiled and waved."
Diana snorts. "Probably too blissed out to care. Look at her. She’s got that post-fuck glow."
Annie rolls her eyes, but a small smile plays on her lips. "You two are incorrigible. But yeah, she does look pretty content."
The trio continues their cleaning, though their attention frequently strays back to the kitchen. They can't help but watch as Michael moves about, his focus unwavering as he prepares something for you. Every now and then, he glances your way, a soft smile tugging at his lips.
"He’s so attentive," Annie murmurs, almost to herself. "I mean, he just spent all that time… you know… and now he’s making sure she’s okay. That’s so sweet."
Diana smirks. "Yeah, he’s definitely got enough left in him for round two tonight. I can tell.”
Susie bites her lip, clearly torn between embarrassment and curiosity. "I just hope we don't get caught."
As they continue to clean, their whispers and giggles fill the room, the earlier intensity of their task somewhat forgotten in light of their newfound entertainment. They dust the same shelves over and over again just because the view of the kitchen is by far the best from that specific angle. The sight of you and Michael in the kitchen, a picture of post-coital domesticity, only fuels their fascination.
Michael, sensing your exhaustion, walks over to you with a plate of food. "Here you go, sweetheart," he says softly, placing the plate in front of you. "You need to eat something."
You smile up at him, your gratitude evident in your eyes. He smiles and sits down next to you, watching you with adoring eyes.
The maids watch this exchange with keen interest. "He’s so good to her," Susie whispers, a note of envy in her voice.
Diana rolls her eyes playfully. "Of course he is. You heard how he was talking to her. ‘You’re my good girl,’" she mimics, her voice dripping with mock lust. "He’s got her wrapped around his finger."
Annie, who has been silent for a while, finally speaks up. "You know, maybe we shouldn’t be talking about them like this. It’s kind of… invasive."
Diana rolls her eyes. "Oh my god, Annie. Live a little. They’re not gonna find out. Besides, it’s not like we’re hurting anyone."
They continue their tasks, though their eyes frequently stray back to the kitchen. The atmosphere is charged with a mix of lingering arousal and the thrill of having witnessed something so private. As they finish up in the living room and move to another part of the house, they can’t help but continue their whispered conversation. "So, we’re still following through with the plan?" Susie asks, her voice tinged with anticipation.
Diana grins. "mhm."
Annie shakes her head, though a small smile plays at her lips. "You two are crazy. But fine. Just this once more, we’re not doing it again."
The trio shares a conspiratorial laugh, their bond strengthened by their shared secret. As they go about their tasks, their minds are already anticipating the evening, eager to once again be a part of the passionate world they had stumbled upon.
Meanwhile, in the kitchen, you finish your meal, your energy slowly returning. Michael sits next to you, his hand resting on your thigh, a silent reassurance of his presence.
You lean into him, your head resting on his shoulder. "Thank you," you murmur, your voice soft.
He presses a kiss to your temple. "Anything for you, baby. You know that."
As the day wears on, You both spend the day lounging around the house, basking in the simplicity of each other's company. The day has been a rare gift of leisure, a precious break from Michael's usually hectic schedule. The sun sets lazily, casting a warm glow over everything.
The trio finds themselves looking forward to the evening, their curiosity and desire rekindled. The thrill of the forbidden being too intoxicating to resist.
As the day winds down and evening settles in, the maids finish their duties and prepare to leave. Michael politely, walks them to the door. "Goodnight, ladies," he says with a charming smile.
"Goodnight, Mr. Jackson," they reply, trying to keep their voices steady. They share a quick glance, the events of the day still fresh in their minds, and attempt to leave casually. As the door shuts behind them they walk down the path they’d usually take to return home but they make a turn to the right, making their way towards the back of the house.
You are already in bed, lounging in a tank top and panties, the warm weather prompting you to kick the covers off playfully. The soft light of the setting sun filters through the curtains, casting a golden hue over the room.
Michael steps into the bedroom, locking the door behind him, his gaze finding you instantly. You turn your head towards him and smile, your hand constantly reaching towards his direction, the sight of him filling you with warmth. He shakes his head teasingly as he pulls the covers back onto the bed.
"You always do this," he shakes his head, his voice filled with affection.
You watch him intently as he undresses, his movements slow and deliberate. He strips down to his boxers, revealing his toned physique, and you can’t help but feel a surge of desire. Your eyes are hungry, taking in every inch of his body which is draped in golden sun rays.
He slides into bed next to you, his presence comforting. He gently coos, "Are you feeling hot, baby?" His hand finds your hip, kneading it softly, feeling the soft, warm skin under his palm.
You nod, your eyes half-lidded with desire and mischief. Taking his hand, you guide it down between your legs, pressing his fingers harder against your clothed clit. "I am," you murmur, your voice barely a whisper, signaling where exactly you’re feeling hot.
He chuckles, a low, knowing sound. "You're insatiable," he teases, his fingers starting to move in slow, tantalizing circles. The fabric unsurprisingly dampening in an instant.
Your eyes flutter from the slight pressure and you spread your legs wider, inviting him in. "You love it," you counter with a small smile.
He smirks and admits, moving between your spread thighs, his fingers hooking under your panties and slowly pulling them off. He casually lets them fall on the floor as his eyes are immediately glued to your weeping cunt, already salivating at the view.
Meanwhile, in the backyard, the maids have been waiting, the anticipation building. Diana, ever the ringleader, whispers, "It’s time." They tiptoe towards your patio which is connected to your bedroom. They crouch down next to the glass doors, holding their breath as they try to peer inside without making their presence known. The house is quiet, the only sounds coming from within the intimate space you and Michael share. They inch closer, their breaths shallow and hearts pounding, the thrill of voyeurism electrifying their senses.
Inside the bedroom, the atmosphere is intimate and calm compared to the morning's intensity. Michael lays on his front, his face inches from your glistening pussy, still leaking with his cum from earlier. He bites his lip at the sight, the raw desire in his eyes making you shiver with anticipation.
He gently slides his middle finger into your hole, pushing his cum deeper inside you. "Look at you, so full of me," he murmurs, his voice low and sultry. "Such a good girl, taking everything I give you."
You moan softly, the sensation of his finger inside you making your body hum with pleasure. He parts your glossy folds with his fingers, exposing your sensitive clit. Leaning in, he suckles on the bud, rolling it in his mouth with expert precision.
Peering through the glass, their eyes widen as they take in the sight before them. Michael is between your legs, his face buried in your pussy, his tongue working you with a slow, deliberate rhythm. Your eyes are shut tight, fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer as he devours you. The soft glow from the bedside lamp casts a warm light over the scene, highlighting every intimate detail.
"God, seeing it is so much better than just listening," Susie whispers, her voice a mix of awe and arousal.
They press against each other, jostling quietly for the best view. Michael's focus is entirely on you, his eyes closed as he savors your taste, his tongue flicking over your clit with expert precision. The way he worships your body is mesmerizing, each movement filled with intent and passion.
Suddenly, Michael pulls away with a wet pop, your juices glistening on his lips and chin. You whine at the loss of contact, your body trembling with need. "Shh, baby," he soothes, replacing his tongue with his thumb, pressing it against your swollen clit and rubbing gentle circles.
The maids hold their breath, their eyes glued to the scene. Michael prods two fingers against your entrance, teasing you before slowly sliding them in. He breathes in deeply, savoring your scent as his fingers begin to scissor inside you, stretching your tight walls. His wedding band glistens, drenched in your slick, as he pumps his fingers in and out with a steady rhythm, the cold metal adding to the pleasure.
Susie, filled with envy and arousal, leans closer to Annie. "I've never seen a man eat pussy this good," she whispers, her voice tinged with longing.
"He definitely knows where the clit is." Annie giggles and adds.
Diana, unable to contain her excitement, groans softly. "When is he going to take out his cock and fuck her?" she hisses, her eyes locked on the sight of Michael's fingers disappearing inside you.
Annie glares at her. "Oh, I'm sorry, is watching this not enough for you?" she snaps quietly.
Michael's fingers work their magic, the squelching noises filling the room as you whimper and buck your hips against his skilled hands. He watches you intently, his eyes dark with lust, enjoying the way you respond to his touch. "You're so beautiful like this," he murmurs, his voice thick with desire. "My girl."
Your whimpers turn into moans, your body arching off the bed as he brings you closer to the edge. "Michael, please," you beg, your voice a breathy whisper.
He leans in, his breath hot against your skin, leaving hickeys along your inner thighs. "What is it, baby?" he asks, his thumb pressing harder against your clit.
"Wanna cum," you gasp, your hands gripping the sheets tightly.
He smirks, his fingers curling inside you to hit that sweet spot. "Then come for me, sweet girl," he whispers, his voice a low growl.
The maids watch in rapt attention, their own bodies reacting to the scene before them. Susie's cheeks are flushed, her breath quickening. "I can't believe we're actually seeing it this time," she whispers, her voice trembling with excitement.
"Look at how he handles her. It's like he knows exactly what she needs." Annie breathes, her eyes wide with awe.
Diana, her frustration mounting, shifts restlessly. "I want to see him fuck her," she insists, her voice a low whine. "Wanna see what his cock looks like."
Annie shoots her a sharp look. "Just be patient," she snaps. "Enjoy what we're seeing now."
Inside the room, Michael's fingers move faster, his thumb rubbing tight circles on your clit. Your moans grow louder, your body trembling with the intensity of your impending orgasm. "I- I’m close" you cry out, your voice breaking with need.
"There there," he murmurs, his fingers never faltering. "Let go for me. Cum all over my fingers."
With a final flick of his tongue and a deep thrust of his fingers, you shatter. Your orgasm crashes over you, your body convulsing with pleasure. Michael holds you through it, his mouth and fingers never ceasing their movements, prolonging your release until you are spent and trembling.
The maids are transfixed, their own arousal palpable. "y’all…" Susie whispers, her voice filled with need. "I didn't even know it was possible to cum that hard just from fingers."
Annie nods, her eyes still fixed on the scene before her. "He’s Michael Jackson, what did you expect," she murmurs.
Diana, her eyes dark with lust, can barely contain herself. "I want to see more," she insists, her voice a desperate whisper.
As you come down from your high, panting, Michael gently withdraws his fingers, bringing them to his lips. "You taste so good," he purrs, his eyes locked on yours. You stretch weakly, your body still trembling. Michael licks his drenched fingers, savoring your taste as his eyes lock onto yours with a smoldering intensity. He leans in to give your clit a soft, lingering kiss, a gesture of tenderness.
As he moves off the bed to take off his boxers, you whimper from the loss of contact, your body still trembling from the recent orgasm. You always become so clingy afterward, seeking his warmth and touch even if it's scorching hot outside.
“I’m right here, baby,” he coos gently, his voice soothing as he pulls down his boxers, freeing his throbbing cock. The maids, hidden just outside the glass doors, gasp in unison at the sight. Michael’s heavy shaft sways with his every move, a sight both impressive and intimidating.
“Goodness gracious, that thing is massive,” Diana whispers, her eyes wide with arousal.
The others nod, their mouths hanging open in shock. “No wonder she always looks so happy,” Susie murmurs. “It’s hard not to when your man’s packing like that.”
Annie notices Diana’s hazy expression, her eyes glued to Michael’s meaty cock as she licks her lips. Annie nudges her sharply. “Stop drooling, Diana.”
Susie giggles, trying to stifle the sound. “Yeah, you look like you just came.”
Diana shoots them a side-eye, irritated but unable to tear her gaze away from Michael as he strokes his meaty shaft, preparing himself. She unconsciously leans forward, hands pressing against the glass doors, her desire overriding her sense of caution. The door creaks in the silent room, a loud and unmistakable sound.
Annie, eyes wide with realization, hisses urgently, “Wait, no!”
But it’s too late. Packed together like sardines, when Diana pushes forward, the glass doors swing open, and they all tumble into the room with a loud, resounding thud. The sudden intrusion shatters the intimate atmosphere, and for a moment, time seems to freeze.
You gasp in horror, your eyes wide as you scramble to cover yourself. Michael’s head snaps around, his expression shifting from surprise to fury as he sees the maids he had just bid goodnight to, now sprawled awkwardly on the floor. They remain frozen, their eyes wide with horror at having been caught.
“Fuck,” Annie whispers, the word barely audible but carrying the weight of their collective dread.
Michael’s eyes blaze with anger, but his first instinct is to protect you. He immediately grabs the covers and drapes them over your body, shielding you from their prying eyes. He presses a soft kiss to your forehead, whispering, “Stay here.”
You try to argue, your voice trembling, “But Michael-”
He cuts you off with a commanding look, one you don’t often see, filled with authority and protectiveness. “I said stay,” he repeats firmly.
Nodding obediently, you clutch the sheets closer to your face, your heart pounding in your chest. Michael turns halfway, careful not to expose himself completely, and fixes the maids with a venomously calm stare.
“Wait in my office,” he orders, his tone cold and tolerating no argument.
The trio stares dumbly for a few seconds, processing his words before they scramble to their feet, tripping over themselves in their haste to leave. Broken apologies tumble from their lips as they run out of the room, their faces flushed with shame and embarrassment.
Once they’re gone, Michael turns back to you, his expression softening. “Are you okay?” he asks gently, his hands cupping your face.
You nod, though your heart is still racing. “I guess…I'm just shocked.”
“I’ll take care of this,” he promises, his voice filled with a protective resolve. He kisses your forehead again, then stands, pulling on his discarded boxers and trousers. “Stay here and try to relax, okay?”
You nod again, watching him as he leaves the room, your anxiety mixing with a strange sense of reassurance at his presence.
Michael leaves you in the bedroom, his heart heavy with both fury and a fierce protectiveness. As he walks down the hallway, the moonlight filters through the windows, casting long shadows and illuminating his path. Each step he takes echoes softly against the wooden floor, the sound mingling with the seething rage that burns within him. His fists clench and unclench at his sides, every muscle in his body taut with anger.
In the office, the maids are huddled together, in a state of panic, their faces filled with dread. They had thought themselves clever, sneaking around to watch, but now the reality of their actions is sinking in.
“Oh my god, we’re so screwed,” Susie whispers, wringing her hands nervously.
Annie turns to Diana. "This was all your idea!" she hisses, her voice trembling with fear.
Diana glares back, her own nerves frayed. "Oh, don't you dare put this all on me! You wanted this as much as I did!"
Susie, caught in the middle, raises her hands in a futile attempt to calm them. "Guys, please, this isn’t the time. We need to stick together."
The door swings open, and they all jump, turning to see Michael standing in the doorway, his expression a mask of controlled fury. He steps into the room, closing the door behind him with a soft click that feels like the final nail in their coffin.
“Explain yourselves,” he demands, his voice low and dangerous.
The maids exchange panicked glances, none of them wanting to be the first to speak. Finally, Annie steps forward, her voice trembling. “We... we’re so sorry, Mr. Jackson. We didn’t mean to intrude. We just...”
“Just what?” he snaps, his patience fraying.
Susie whispers, her voice barely audible, "We were just curious..."
Michael raises his brows, his eyes narrowing. "Curious? Curious?!” he repeats, louder this time. The word hangs in the air, heavy with disdain.
He loses his cool for a moment, his voice rising as he yells, "Are you out of your fucking minds?!"
The maids shudder, their fear palpable. They are totally fucked, and they know it. “We’re truly so sorry,” Annie stammers, her voice breaking. “We never meant for this to happen.”
Michael’s expression remains hard, his eyes cold as ice. “You think an apology is enough? You think saying sorry will fix this? You’ve breached a level of trust that’s hard to come back from.” Michael’s eyes bore into each of them, his disappointment palpable.
Michael takes a deep breath, trying to rein in his temper. “What gave you the brilliant idea to spy on us?”
There’s a heavy silence as none of them dare to speak. Michael’s patience wears thin. “I’m not going to repeat my question.”
Silence fills the room as the maids exchange terrified glances. Finally, Diana stutters, "We... we eavesdropped earlier this morning." Susie starts to tear up silently, her guilt and fear overwhelming her.
Michael breathes out heavily, the sound like a hiss through clenched teeth. "Sit," he commands, his tone brooking no argument.
They scramble to comply, their hands shaking as they take their seats. Michael retrieves a folder from the desk drawer, pulling out several documents and laying one in front of each of them with a pen.
"Sign," he says, the word clipped and devoid of any warmth.
Annie furrows her brows as she reads the document. It's a non-disclosure agreement. It hits her like a punch to the gut: he's making them sign NDAs to ensure they don't blabber about this to anyone, especially the press. Without reading through it, they all sign. Their hands shake so much that their signatures are barely legible.
Michael retrieves the signed documents, his eyes never leaving theirs. He stares at them, his gaze hard and unforgiving. "Consider yourselves fired," he says, each word delivered with cutting precision.
The maids’ faces pale further, the reality of their actions hitting them like a sledgehammer.
They swallow hard, nodding silently. Without needing further prompting, they rise from their seats and make their way out of the office, their footsteps heavy with the weight of their actions. As they exit the estate, the night air feels colder. As they walk down the long driveway and the gravity of their situation sinks in.
As they reach the gates, they look back at Neverland ranch one last time, the grandeur and beauty now a stark contrast to their current despair. They exit, their steps heavy and their minds filled with regret.
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Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
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