a/n: i know that this didnât happen in michaelâs thriller era, but for my mental health and ovulation, it did.
the sun had set over disneyland, casting a warm glow over the magical kingdom as you and michaelânow husband and wifeâhad made your way back to your luxurious hotel room. the day had been filled with laughter, cotton candy, and endless rides.
michael had kicked his shoes off by the door, letting out a contented sigh as he loosened his tie. the suite was breathtakingâfloor-to-floor ceiling windows overlooking the sparking lights of the city, a king sized bed draped in silk sheets, and rose petals scattered across the marble bathroom floor. he turned to you with that boyish grin, his dark eyes sparking with mischief.
michael approached you slowly, his hands reaching out to gently frame your face as he leaned in for a soft kiss, his lips were warm and tender. pulling back slightly, he whispered against your lips, âmrs. jacksonâŚâ
you couldnât help but smile at the way his voice wrapped around your new title. it was surreal to be married to michael jackson, but in moments like this, he was just your husbandâyour loving, playful husband. you playfully bit his bottom lip softly, âmr. jackson,â you teased back.
he chucked softly at that, the sound sending familiar shivers down your spine. âcome here,â he murmured, guiding you backward toward the bed. his fingers deftly worked at the zip of your dress as he backed you up, until you both landed on the plush mattress.
you giggled breathlessly, âmichael, youâre so impatient.â
âiâve been patient all day!â he protested with a laugh, nuzzling into your neck. âweâve been surrounded by kids and mickey mouse all day. i just want to be alone with my wife.â his hands slid up your thighs, pushing your dress higher.
you gasped as his fingers brushed against against the lace of your panties, your head falling back against the pillows. âwell, you have me all to yourself now,â you breathed out, your fingers tangling in his curly hair. the room filled with the sound of your hushed whispers and gentle touches.
michael wasted no time in shedding his shirt, revealing his soft skin that you knew so well. he hovered over you, pressing open-mouthed kisses along your collarbone and down the valley between your breasts. the atmosphere shifted from playful to heavy with desire, the scent of roses and your mingled colognes filling the air.
you arched your back, pulling him closer to you. his breath was hot against your skin as he unclasped your bra, his lips immediately finding your nipple. you moaned softly, threading your fingers through his thick curls while he lavished attention on each breast, his tongue making lazy circles around your hardened peaks.
michaelâs hands trailed down your sides, gripping your hips as he moved down your body, pulling your panties off with a swift tug. he spread your legs wide, settling his broad shoulders between them. his first languid lick had you gripping the sheets, your hips lifting off the bed.
âmichaelâŚâ you whimpered, your nails digging into his shoulders as his tongue worked expertly between your thighs. he looked up at you through those dark lashes, a wicked glint in his eyes. âyou taste so sweet, baby,â he murmured against your slick folds before diving back in, his tongue swirling around your clit. your breath hitched, your thighs trembling against his head.
unable to take the teasing any longer, you reached down and tugged at his waistband, freeing his length. he groaned appreciatively at your eager touch, stroking himself slowly as he watched you writhe beneath him. âi need you inside me, please,â you pleaded, your voice thick with desires michael smirked, positioning himself between your trembling thighs. âpatience, mrs. jackson.â
he teased your entrance with the head of his cock, rubbing himself against you but not pushing in. he lovers how you squirmed and whimpered beneath him, your nails scratching his back. âsay please again,â he whispered with a smirk, loving how desperate you sounded for him.
âplease, baby,â you gasped out, your legs spreading wider to give him better access. âi need you so badâŚplease.â michael finally granted your wish, pushing into your tight heat with one slow, torturously delicious stroke. both of you cried out as you became one, the intimacy of the moment washing over you even more than the pleasure.
he began moving then, slow at first, deep thrusts made the bed springs squeak with each one. his forehead pressed against yours, eyes closed as he lost himself in the rhythm. âyou feel so good,â he groaned against yours lips, his pace quickening as your walls clenched around him. âmy wifeâŚâ
you clawed at his back, urging him on. michael obliged, his movements becoming more intense and passionate as he clung to you. the headboard of the bed began to hit the wall with a rhythmic thudding sound that matched their hurried breathing and muffled moans. he shifted his angle slightly, hitting that spot inside you that made your eyes roll back.
âright there, right fucking there,â you cried out, your voice getting louder with each thrust. michael covered your mouth with his to muffle the sounds, kissing you deeply as he drove into you harder, the bed breaking loudly beneath you both.
the sounds of your passionate lovemaking filled the roomâskin slapping against skin, the wet sounds of his cock thrusting into your dripping pussy, the loud squeaks of the bed springsâmichael reached down and grabbed your leg, throwing it over his shoulder to go even deeper.
you arched your back as he hit that spot inside you repeatedly, your nails digging into his shoulders hard enough to leave marks. the bed was now shaking violently against the wall with each powerful thrust. michaelâs breath came in ragged gasps against your neck as he whispered dirty words only you could hear.
âiâm close,â you whimpered, your walls clenching around him tightly. michael groaned deeply, his pace becoming erratic as he felt your orgasm approaching. âcome for me, baby,â he commanded, his voice rough with desire. âlet me feel you.â his thrusts became harder, faster, completely losing control as the bed grained under your combined weight.
you shattered beneath him, your back arching off the bed as waves of pleasure crashed through you. your scream was muffled by his shoulder as you clenched around him uncontrollably. the climax triggered something in michaelâhe buried himself deep, his thrusts becoming brutal.
a sound then echoed through the suite like a gunshot. both of you froze mid-thrust as the wooden bed frame splintered beneath you, the middle collapsing inward. you both tumbled to the floor in a tangle of limbs, michael landing on top of you with a startled yelp.
silence stretched between you for a heartbeat before michael burst into surprised laughter against your neck.
âi canât believeââ he laughed between gasps, still inside you despite now being on the floor. âdid we just break the bed?â his eyes were bright with amusement, dimples appearing as he grinned down at you. you were too breathless to scold him, still trembling from your orgasm as he lazily thrust just once more.
you burst into laughter despite still being in complete shock from what just happened, your chest heaving with spent breaths âthatâs because you lost control completely, michael!â you managed to say, running your fingers along his jaw. michael kissed you softly, not moving from where he was buried inside you. âworth it,â he murmured against your lips, flexing his hips slowly as sparks ignited between you again.
you both looked over at the broken bed frame and started giggling like teenagers. michael slowly pulled out of me, both of you wincing slightly at the sensitivity. he lay on his back on the carpet, pulling you against his chest.
âyou know,â he said thoughtfully, running his fingers through your hair as you curled up on his chest, âthey say your honeymoon is supposed to be romantic and perfect. but i think i prefer our versionâbroken bed and great sex.â
you giggled against his skin, tracing lazy patterns on his chest. âmost couples just break a glass of something. we took out the whole damn bed frame.â michael chuckled, the sound vibrating against your cheek. âthatâs because youâre fully mine now. i can be as wild as i want.â he pressed a kiss to your forehead, his arm tightening around you.
the laughter eventually died down, replaced by comfortable silence as you both lay tangled on the floor. michael traced lazy patterns on your hip, his breathing slowly returned to normal.
âsoâŚâ you murmured, looking up at him with a tired smile. âdo you think we should call the front desk orrr?â
michael groaned dramatically, covering his face with one hand. âweâre definitely getting charged for that,â he muttered, though he couldnât keep the laugh out of his voice. âthough iâm not complaining.â he pressed a kiss to your temple, his hand sliding down to squeeze your ass. âworth every penny.â
you snorted, poking his ribs. âyouâre the one with the money, mr. jackson.â you joked.
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âexactly,â he said, lifting the camcorder. âdo that again.â
âyou want me to cut a strawberry again?â
âbaby, youâre smiling.â
and to everyone else, it makes no sense. heâs filming things that seem ordinary.
you pushing your glasses up your nose in one of his oversized shirts, you curled up asleep on the couch with a book slipping from your lap, the way you laugh with your whole body when you find something funny, in the mirror; the way you fix his collar before he leaves, you doing a little spin while doing a try-on haul for him, the little wrinkle in your nose when youâre concentrating.
because to michael, thatâs you. thatâs the woman the song is about. meanwhile, you start getting embarrassed.
âyou have actual cameras for this video, baby.â
âmm-hm.â
âthen why are you following me around with that thing?â
he lowered the camcorder just enough to grin at you. âbecause they donât see you the way i do, doll.â
and maybe you think heâs joking until you catch him one night in the studio, editing.
hours of footage.
no choreography, no special effects.
just you.
laughing. talking with your hands. falling asleep against his shoulder. looking out the window during road trips on tour. looking up at him with that expression you donât even realize you make.
he notices you standing in the doorway. âmichaelâŚâ he paused the tape.
âi know it isnât exciting?â he cheesed.
âyouâve been filming me for weeks.â
ââŚi wanted to remember,â he admitted quietly. âthe way you are right now.â
âwhat do you mean?â
âpeople change. time changes.â he glanced back at the frozen frame of you laughing at something off-camera. âi know iâll always love you. i justâŚâ he swallowed. âi donât ever want to forget this version of you. the way you laugh, the way you look at me, the little things nobody else notices.â
and you just completely break because you finally understand that the music video isnât really a music video.
itâs a love letter, a time capsule if you must. proof that you were loved in the ordinary moments, too.
now, he has the finished video playing privately in your living room before itâs ever released.
the final shot isnât glamorous at all.
the camcorder shakes a little as michael turns it toward himself.
âyou filming yourself now?â you teased.
âi need evidence,â he said.
âof what?â
he looked into the lens before turning it back to you, smiling softly from where you sat beside him.
âthat i found the lady in my life.â
and the screen cuts to black right before your laughter fills the tape.
waking your boyfriend michael up after hearing a noise that startles you in the middle of the nightđ
You were currently annoyedâit was 3am and something was tapping at the window and your beloved boyfriend was fast asleep completely unbothered by the sounds and that enraged youâhow could he just sleep so peacefully?
You huff, getting up deciding to check for yourself. Feet lightly tapping as you tighten your pink silky robe around your waist. You hardly make it out of the room before the sounds start up again.
ChitterâTap!
âOh my god!â You yelp immediately running back towards the bed where Michael slowly stirs up. You jump into his arms immediately. âMichael! Michael, Michael wake up!â You shake him and he sits up, hand flying to your waist as you grip him for comfort. âBaby what time is it?â He questions, âitâsâthat doesnât matter I think someone is trying to break in!â
He sits up immediately, âno one is trying to break in I can promise you that.â he says, a bit annoyed you woke him up from his sleep and he turns around. âMichael.â You urge again, shaking him harder so he didnât fall back asleep. âBaby.â He responds. âPlease check?â He couldnât resist your begging and what sounded like genuine fear so with a heavy sigh he stands up.
You follow close behind him as he tiptoes out the room and towards the front door, the first thing he does is look out the hole of the door before swinging it wide open, the cool air hitting the both of your faces. He steps outside and you follow, except you stay closer by the front door.
HissâTap!
You see no Michael, you start playing with the hem of your robe, growing nervous by the second, once you notice how long heâs taking to return you bite your lip and clench your fist as you step out into the breezy night, following the sound.
âBoo!â He pops out and you let out a shrill. âMichael!â You shove his shoulder. âYou ass.â Your lip trembles. âDid you see what it was?â He nods, âIt was a raccoon, baby, can we go back to bed now?â He ushers grabbing your hand and leading you back to the bedroom, you let out a sigh of relief. A raccoon..you almost laugh at the fact.
He drapes the blanket over you both and switches the lamp off. âWait.â You murmur, he softly hums waiting for you to continue. âI want to go to sleep firstâdonât go to sleep until Iâm sleep.â You say against his chest and he traces invisible shapes against your back.
âYour wish is my command, mama.â He placed a kiss on your forehead.
From time to time you call out his name to make sure heâs still awake and he always responds with a soft hum or a âstill awake, babyâ along with a âmhmâ or a kiss on the forehead.
guys literally thereâs a raccoon thatâs terrorizing me rn EVERY NIGHT at exactly 4am im mad as hell!!!đ also Iâm thinking about making a tag list sooo let me know if you want to be tagged !!
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synopsis. In the fresh modern age of 2026, the last thing you'd expect was to get thrown in a Back to the Future plot. You and your totally basic life go haywire during a moment of curiosity when you decide to test out a stubborn retro camera with mixed up dates. What happens when it wasn't just any old camera? What if it had taken you back to the 20th century? And what will you do when you find the chance to change his fate?
starring. multiple eras!michael jackson x time traveller!reader (reader is inclusive to all races)
content warnings. death, sexual content later in the story, tobacco, alcohol, mental and physical abuse, michael's childhood, and many more content labels yet to come! muahaha
PAST EXPOSURE PLAYLIST <- Spotify link
MASTERLIST
(total chapter count has not been determined yet)
âprologue | Say cheese!
âchapter 1 | This is far out!
âchapter 2 | Funky 21st century girl!
âchapter 3 |
âchapter 4 | ...
âchapter 5 | ...
âchapter 6 | ...
âchapter 7 | ...
âchapter 8 | ...
âchapter 9 | ...
âchapter 10 | ...
âchapter 11 | ...
âchapter 12 | ...
âchapter 13 | ...
âchapter 14 | ...
âchapter 15 | ...
âchapter 16 | ...
. . .
âchapter 60 | ...
(Further episodes will be decided later on.)
If you would like to be tagged for this series or for my general taglist, please let me know!
Šthedailymichael 2026. All works posted under my name belong to me. Please do not copy, claim, republish, or translate my work anywhere else.
summary: during michaelâs invincible album release, he does a meet and greet with his fans. not only does he meet the cutest little boy, but his mother might also be a sweet lil thing too..
sorry guys been xtra busy recently. more stories and the requests coming next week, also thank u for all the requests iâve seen them and will be writingđٞâ
read part 2 and part 3
âare you okay, babyâ you said quietly, crouching slightly to whisper in the boys ear.
âiâm okay mama, itâs just very loudâ zain whispered back, his head slightly bowed, the fedora tipping slightly.
you grabbed his tiny hand tighter, squeezing it to reassure him that you were there protecting him and nobody would hurt him.
you and zain were stood around 6 people away from michael, his cd signing allowing 500 lucky fans to get into the store.
when you had heard of the chance to meet michael, you did absolutely everything in your power to do so, for your little boy.
zain had loved michael from the moment he had first heard him on the tv when he was 1 years old. he had heard black or white, standing infront of the tv watching the music video whilst shaking his little shoulders, asking you to replay it multiple times before it became practically engrained into the walls.
it was then you went down a rabbit hole with him, playing every michael jackson song that was available to play at his request, his favourites accumulating to donât stop till you get enough and remember the time.
he had even stood in the living room trying to copy the dangerous dance breakdown, eventually almost mastering it to the best of his toddler abilities.
he had become one of michaelâs biggest fans, and he was only three and a half years old.
now you both were stood in the music shop, blessed to receive access after you had bought the invincible cd the day before, your son had been wrapped up in your arms as he bounced up and down, so excited to get his hands on the music.
the line finally began to shorten after what felt like years of being stood in the same spot, the sequins on zainâs white glove digging into the skin of your palms. his tiny suit ruffled every time his legs moved, restless from standing still for so long.
the table became easier to see as you got closer, michael sat there whilst his hands signed the cd alongside listening attentively to what the fan infront of him was saying, nodding politely.
you picked zain up, placing him onto your hip so you could talk to him closer.
âokay we are nearly there now, donât worry baby. can you see him right thereâ before pointing towards michael.
âoh my gosh mama! heâs right there!â he squealed slightly, his hands grabbing your shoulders and wrapping around the back of your neck to hug you.
you giggled at his excitement, so happy to see your son laughing and getting tense with energy.
the joy ran like honey through your veins, it had been a difficult few months. struggling with money in order to put food on the table for your son and you and paying for clothes and bills. but you had finally gathered your footing, starting a new job that payed exceptionally, now able to fund zainâs michael jackson obsession.
the large, burly security guard stood next to the large sign beside the table, gently guiding you and your son forward and putting space between you and the person behind you, probably wanting to protect the little boy that shuffled his feet in anticipation along the carpeted floor.
michaelâs eyes scanned the room, moving down the line towards the people he was about to meet. his dark brown eyes glinting and glittering under the bright lights before locking onto someone, the little boy dressed up as him. he laughed out loud, his hand coming up to cover his mouth as he stared in shock.
michael tried to focus on what the man standing in front of him was saying, his hands signing the cd with the all too familiar signature, but his mind and eyes kept wandering back to the little boy.
you moved forward, going up the steps of the platform to the table, guiding your son towards the table. your heartbeat began to race, an unexpected nervousness overcoming you at the sight of the handsome king of pop.
the cloth covered table covered the majority of zainâs body, only his bright eyes and fedora peeking over at him, his hands gripping the table so tight his knuckles nearly turned white.
âcome on, honey, he canât see your outfitâ you said, laughing quietly at his pose.
your hands went under zainâs arms, placing him onto the table infront of you, hands resting gently on his lower back to steady him and make him feel safe. a symphony of âawhâ echoed behind you, the cuteness of the moment forcing everyone to look.
michael laughed loudly, his head tipping back before his head came forward, looking over zainâs outfit in awe.
âyou look like me!â michael exclaimed, his voice going a tiny bit higher, his finger grazing zainâs tiny knuckles.
âwell⌠i-i⌠mamaaaâ zain stuttered, turning around suddenly and burying his face into your neck.
he had become all of a sudden to nervous to even look michael in the eye, one of his favourite people ever was stood infront of him but all the attention was too much.
âitâs okay, baby. look, show him your dance moves, you said to me before that you wanted to show him something didnât you?â
your comforting hand running over the length of his back, trying to coerce him to turn around to look at michael, who was staring at him in awe and you with a certain look in his eye that you couldnât quite name.
zain turned, his back pressing against your chest as he leant against you. he looked at michael, a tiny hand coming out for him to shake.
âhi, iâm zainâ he whispered, the other hand coming up near his mouth.
âhi zain, itâs lovely to meet you! you look amazing, your mama said you wanted to show me something?â he leant closer, his other hand coming up to bend the small fedora back to uncover his face.
zain shuffled forward a little bit, before getting into position. he span in a circle, the cloth bunching under his feet, before he brought one hand to his lower stomach and one hand to his hat, his leg propping out. zain ended his quick performance with his hand grasping the little fedora and tilting it down to block his face, and then coming up to a point.
michael clapped, getting to his feet to give him a proper standing ovation. he wrapped the boy up in his arms, giving him a hug and a kiss on the top of his head, a huge smile painted across his face.
âwow, that was amazing! you could take my place one day.â
looking at the interaction between michael and zain, any random person would think it was between a father and son the way he cared so much. he held his hands in his, nodding along and consistently complimenting zain, whether it was on his dance moves, his outfit or his cute curly hair.
âand mama must be very proud of you, huh? at having a son with such god given talentâ michael said suddenly, pulling you out of your thoughts, your eyes meeting his.
âoh heâs amazing, heâs loved you since heâs been able to move around, always dancing in the living room to your songs, arenât you?â you tickled zainâs sides lightly, causing a high pitched giggle to fall from his mouth.
âis that so, zain? well you have made my day with your little dance moves and your cute little smileâ michael said, âguess we know who he got that fromâ
his eyes locked onto your face, more specifically your shiny lips, before running up and down your body, taking in your full appearance.
you shyly dipped your head, a small, nervous tilt of your lips making you look even more prettier to michael. the black zip of your bag brushed against your hands as you opened it, reaching into grab the cd and place it on the table.
âzain was so excited to come here, dressing up as you was his idea actually. but it was a surprise cause he usually doesn't like wearing this stuffâ you looked at zain, his hands locking infront of him as he swayed from side to side.
michaelâs hands took the cd off of the table, before taking the cap off the pen and bringing his head down, writing a little message to zain with absolute concentration before signing off with his iconic signature.
you turned your head to zain, tilting his hat back and pulling his jacket down as it had ridden up to his waist in all of the chaos. you asked how he was, wondering if this was becoming too much for him before he smiled at you, confirming that he was as happy as can be.
âhere you go, little manâ
he placed the cd in zainâs hands, his large eyes scanning over the writing before turning it towards you.
âmama, what does it say?â
you and michael burst into laughter, zainâs head tilted as he looked at you with confusion.
âwe will read it later baby, come onâ
the security guard motioned to michael that it was time for you to move on, the moment stopping all too soon for his liking, but he understood the need to keep on time.
âwell it was lovely to meet you zain, and you too mama, you have raised him beautifullyâ he whispered towards you, his hand taking yours in a handshake before bringing it to his lips.
you felt your body get hot, eyes widening in shock, a slight sweat building up on your brow bone as you grew increasingly flustered.
turning towards zain, a nervous laughter bubbling in your chest as you moved to pick him up off of the table.
âsay bye, zainâ you whispered in his ear.
zain shot forward, wrapping his arms around michaelâs neck in a hug, his face buried into the crook of his shoulder.
michaelâs large hands moved to his back, one supporting his back, the other engulfing the back of his curly hair. his eyes shut as a warm smile grew on his face at the young childâs sweetness.
âbye zain, thank you for coming todayâ
zain moved backwards towards you, his legs wrapping around your waist and head resting against your chest, your hands moving to grip his back slacks to hold him up.
he waved a small goodbye, his eyes filling with tears at the departure.
âbye mikey!â
you smiled at michael, before walking down the steps, around the back of the set up to leave the store.
zain stifled a small cry, his lip trembling and a few tears slipping down his chubby cheeks.
âmama, i miss him alreadyâ he muttered into your shirt, your hand resting on his head.
michaelâs doe eyes followed you out, before turning slightly to his head of security and whispering something into his ear before getting a nod in return.
the man gripped the walkie-talkie on his waist and brought it up to his lips before saying something inaudible into it.
as you walked closer to the door, whispering comfort into zainâs ears as he sobbed gently into your neck, a man dressed in black stopped you, the words âSECURITYâ painted across his chest.
âare you zainâs mother, the little boy michael just met?â the man said, sounding very serious, a pit forming in your stomach.
âoh um.. yes i am, is there a problem?â your voice twinged with confusion, wondering if you had done anything wrong.
he glanced around to see if anyone was nearby before reaching into his pocket, pulling out a folded note and placing into your slightly closed hand that rested on zainâs hip.
âhave a good day, maâamâ ,turning and walking back to the cd signing.
staring in confusion at the manâs back as he walked away, you glanced back at your son, a deflated look painted across his face.
âletâs go and get something to eat, and we can read what michael put on the cd, yeah?â
you walked into the cozy restaurant, being led to a booth in the corner, placing him along with your bags into the corner and sitting down yourself.
you read zain the menu, allowing him to pick what he wanted before reading it off to the waiter along with your own order.
the day had clearly began to wear on zain, his eyes beginning to droop and gradually becoming more clingy and wanting your affection.
you wrapped your arms around his shoulder, guiding him to lean against you as you held the cd in your hands.
âshould we read this together then, baby?â
zain nodded his head, his legs swinging over your thighs and getting more comfy so you can read the message to him.
âokay, it says: dear zain, thank you for showing me your dance moves, i was very impressed at how good you are - especially that spin, that was amazing. i might have some competition!
keep dancing, keep smiling and i hope you enjoy this album, maybe you can make some new moves for me? love, michael jacksonâ
zainâs smile widened, his pearly teeth showing, âmama, he said that i was amazing?â
âhe did, baby! you must have blown him away with your coolness!â you giggled, ruffling his curls as his eyes squinted due to his grin.
you turned the cd in your hands to look at the full thing, before flipping it onto the back, black marker standing out against the blue background.
your eyebrows furrowed at it, wondering how you had missed him writing on the back.
âmama, there is something very special about your son, the way he allows the music to take over his body is amazing, it reminds me of when i was a child. he has a beautiful spirit and i hope he keeps that for the rest of his life. you have done an amazing job at raising him.
take care of yourself, michaelâ
you read it in your head, a warmth in your chest growing. someone else had noticed the spark in your boy, the ever growing spark growing brighter in his eyes as he grew older, something different from the other children in his class.
remembering the note that had been placed into your hand and then stuffed into your bag as you focused on finding somewhere to eat in the big city, slipping into the black purse and pulling out the note.
âplease call me, i would love to meet you and your wonderful son again. - michaelâ
the number underneath was written in big bold letters, a contrast to the cursive writing on the cd, obviously written by the security guard.
smiling at not only the note on both the cd and the paper, but also at your sons excitement, the plates clinked against the table.
grabbing the knife and fork and cutting your sons food into smaller pieces, passing the fork to him to eat.
âiâm glad you had fun today, baby. i love youâ
Summary: The night after losing his virginity, Michael Jackson finds he can't control his body or his obsession. What begins as a tense ride home from the AMAs erupts into a raw, relentless claiming in the one place he was always meant to be innocent: his childhood bedroom. (established relationship)
Word Count: 4530
Tags: off the wall era, smut, porn with plot, oral sex (f receiving), prone bone, sexual awakening, sort of romantic smut?, michael is pussy drunk y'all, slight praise kink, marking, unprotected sex, creampie (oop) overstimulation,
Authors Note: this was a request. people want more otw mike! and another anon requested pussy drunk michael otw era as well, so NATURALLY this was born. im so sorry if this is not what either of you had in mind lmao. rarely see smut or much at all in this era tbh (ITS HIS BEST??? ARGUE W THE (off the) WALL -- hAH get it?)
. Ýâ âš . ÝË . Ý
18+ minors dnu!!!
The ride home was a cocoon of tense silence. The streetlights shimmered in the night a silent parade past the tinted windows.
Michael sat in the far corner of the plush limousine seat, a beautiful statue carved from desire and anxiety.Â
Heâd been radiant at the 1980 American Music Award presentation, his neat afro, a soft light-brown cloud, his smile shy but genuine as he spoke to peers about Off the Wall.
And for the entire three-hour affairâfrom the first sip of prosecco to the final standing ovation, heâd been visibly, achingly hard.
You had whooped and cheered for him as he won in three separate categories. He made sure to point and thank âhis girlâ for being the perfect muse. You couldnât even comprehend the wins, as you were pointedly looking at his crotch, how he was trying to hide himself.Â
Youâd borne witness to it all.Â
The subtle, tortured shifts in his wide-legged trousers. The way his elegant hands would flutter to his lap, pressing down, trying to angle the thick, insistent line of his erection against the lean plane of his stomach, or try to keep it in the waistband of his pants.
It was a futile, beautiful struggle. A faint sheen of perspiration had highlighted his forehead, and every time he leaned in to whisper a thank you, his breath was hot and unsteady. When he spoke with you, his eyes were alert, fervent, and his breath carried the scent of mint and sweet juice. He was coming apart at the seams.
Last night had been his first time. The loss of his innocence. A decision arrived at with trembling anticipation. Three whole years of held hands, of kisses that never deepened, of him whispering, "Let's do it when itâs perfect, baby. When itâs right.â
Heâd finally decided it was right. âI love you,â heâd breathed into the darkness, his body taut above you. âI know Iâm going to marry youâso why should I wait any longer?â
It had been a burst of frantic, bewildered sensation, over almost before it began, leaving him curled around you afterwards, whispering âthank youâ over and over like a sacred vow into your skin.
Youâd thought it a one-time gift, at least for a while, while he grappled with the guilt of stepping outside the bounds of his religious past.
The limo purred to a stop on the familiar Hayvenhurst driveway. He was out before the engine died, opening your door with a hand that trembled violently.
âNight, Mike. Iâll pick you up again tomorrow morning at nine sharpâyouâve got that radio show interviewââ Bill called after him.
Michael wasnât listening. He didnât even take your hand up the path like he usually did.
He walked ahead, as if on a warpath, his posture rigid, his stride a careful, stiff thing meant to disguise the persistent, telling bulge in his trousers.
The house was a sleeping giant. You both climbed the grand staircase at speed. You struggled slightly in your heels, your long silk dress pooling at your feet. He led you away from the guest room you used to frequent, down a quieter hall lined with framed gold records and awkward school portraits. He stopped at a familiar door and pushed it open.
His childhood bedroom.
It was a sanctuary of preserved innocence. A smaller double bed with a faded blue comforter.Â
Shelves bowed under the weight of countless Disney figurines: Cinderellaâs castle, a parade of Seven Dwarfs, a lonely-looking Dumbo. A mobile of the solar system, coated in a fine layer of dust, hung motionless from the ceiling. The air was a blend of old paper, the faint sweet smell of vinyl, and the crisp, clean scent that was uniquely, essentially him.
You smiled as you took it in; it looked exactly as you remembered from when you first started dating. He had insisted you both use the guest room because he didnât want to face moving any of his memorabilia. It just so happened his childhood bedroom was furthest from his family, his parents in the opposite wing, Randy down the stairs and Janet three doors down.
He went to the bed and sat down, his back to you. With a concentration that was borderline funny, he bent and began untying the laces of his polished dress shoes.
The act was so simple, so boyish; a child in his refuge, shedding the costume of the outside world, that it made your heart ache.Â
In public, he was poised, adult, a persona he wore like a tailored suit. But here, he was the boy who believed in magic, who trusted too easily, whose curiosity was your favorite thing, the way heâd absorb everything about a subject, a time period, a movie, just as he did with music.
You stood by his old wooden desk, your fingers brushing the cool plastic of a model rocket. A ceramic figurine of Bambi watched with wide, glassy eyes.
âI saw it all night,â you said, your voice a soft intrusion in the quiet.
His hands froze on the second lace. He didnât turn. âSaw what?â
âHow hard you were. During the speeches. While you were eating. You kept trying to hide it, but you couldnât. It was all I could think about.â
A visible tremor ran through him. He straightened slowly, but kept his back to you, head bowed as if in prayer. âIt wouldnât go away,â he confessed, his voice thick. âMy body⌠it wouldnât listen to me. The more I remembered last night, the harder it got. It was getting⌠painful.â
âI noticed your frustration,â you whispered, taking a step closer. The floorboard sighed beneath your weight. âAnd it made me wet. Drenched. Every time you adjusted yourself, every time you got that look in your eye⌠I could feel myself getting slick for you.â
He turned then.
His face was flushed, his beautiful lips parted. The need in his eyes had taken over; the shyness was a thin veneer over a bedrock of hunger.
âWet?â he breathed, as if deciphering a complex lyric. His gaze dropped to the front of your gown. âTell me what thatâs like.â
You closed the final distance.
You took his right hand and lifted it. You placed his palm firmly against the damp silk covering your mound.
He gaspedâa sharp, startled sound.
âFeel,â you instructed, your voice low.
His fingers trembled against you. You guided his hand down, under the heavy fabric of your gown, past the delicate lace of your stockings, until his cool fingertips met the soaked, feverish silk of your panties.
A choked, ragged sound escaped him.
âI can make you feel this way?â he stammered, his voice full of awe. âSo warm⌠so⌠wetâŚâ
âThatâs for you,â you said, holding his wrist, making him feel the undeniable truth. âAll night. Thatâs what the thought of you did to me.â
He was shaking now.
You hooked your fingers into the lace at your hip, drawing the fabric aside. Then you guided two of his long, elegant fingers inside of you. He was good with his hands; he had a rhythm like no other, skilled and precise. It was ironic that he knew how to play instruments so well, and now you wanted him to learn to play your body like one.
He went perfectly still. His eyes widened, the dark pools swallowing the light from the nightlight.
He was still feeling the intimate, velvet clutch of your body.
âOhhâŚ,â he whimpered, the sound pulled from his soul.
âCurve them,â you breathed, your own composure fraying. âLike youâre reaching for something.â
He obeyed; a slow, deliberate flexion. The pad of his middle finger found a spot that made stars burst behind your eyelids. A low, throaty moan tore from you.
âMmmhhâ!â
The sound shattered his last restraint. A deep, guttural groan echoed in his chest. He began to move his fingers, it wasnât really with skill, just a frantic curiosity. In and out, curling, exploring. The tops of his fingers were softly pressing against your G-spot.Â
He watched your face, utterly captivated, as his hand worked beneath your gown, his expression one of rapt, hungry devotion.
âThis⌠this tight, soft, warm feeling⌠is what I was thinking about at dinner,â he panted, his breath coming fast. âThis is what I wanted⌠right there and then, but couldnât have.â
He withdrew his fingers, staring at the glistening evidence. Driven by an instinct deeper than reason, he brought them to his lips and⌠tasted.
His eyes fluttered closed.
âYâtaste so good,â he mumbled, his voice thick and sweet. âYou taste like heaven.âÂ
He pulled his fingers from his mouth with a soft, slick pop. The look he gave you then was one of pure, pussy-drunk awe. The shy boy was submerged, replaced by a devoted lover.
âI need to feel you,â he said, the words rushing out. âI need to be surrounded by you. I need to have all of you.â
He fumbled with the buttons of his sparkly silver shirt and yanked off his bow tie, his usual grace abandoned. He shed it, let it fall onto a stack of comic books. The black trousers were shoved down, kicked away. He stood before you, naked in a room crowded with childhood dreams, fully, magnificently erect. You inwardly rolled your eyes at the fact he hadnât worn briefs to the ceremony.
The juxtaposition in front of you, though, was devastatingly intimate. Him stood in this room, bearing himself, when a month prior he still struggled to get dressed in front of you.
He didnât ask before diving in at you.
He gathered you in his strong, lean arms and laid you back on the blue comforter, pushing the skirts of your gown up to your waist, not even bothering to undress you fully because his need was too crazed, too immediate.
He settled between your thighs, his cock; thick, proud, flushed with wantingâpressing against your dripping heat. He looked down, his expression one of solemn, hungry wonder.
âI love you,â he whispered, but it sounded like a truth that made all this not only permissible, but necessary.Â
âI need to feel this. Every part of it. I didnât feel you fall apart last night. It was too fast. This time⌠I want to feel you come apart around me. I want to be inside you when you lose yourself.â
He pushed in.
It was a slow, inexorable claiming that made the breath hitch in his throat. He sank to his base, a long sigh escaping him. He was so deep it felt like he was pressing on your heart.
âPerfect,â he breathed, his eyes closing. âYou are⌠so good, laying there all pretty for me.â
He began to move, a deep, rolling rhythm that was less about thrusting and more about communion.
âYou take me so completely⌠like you were made for meâŚâ
But then his movements changed. His hands, which had been braced gently beside your head, slid down to your thighs. His touch, usually so tentative, became firm, purposeful.Â
He pushed your legs apart wider, then hooked them, bending them sharply to the side, opening you to him utterly. The new angle was deeper, more exposing. A soft cry left your lips.
âYes,â he murmured, his voice taking on a darker, more resonant timbre. âLike this. I need to feel all of you like this.â
He began to move again, and this time, there was a new roughness to his rhythm. It wasnât violent, but it was relentless, deeply possessive. Each stroke was a full, powerful drive, his hips meeting yours with a solid, wet slap-slap-slap that filled the quiet room. The bedframe began a steady, rhythmic protest against the wall.
He was lost in it. His eyes were open, watching your face, but they were glazed, seeing only the sensation.
âYouâre so beautiful like this, how have i gone so long without this sight?,â he groaned, his words coming between panting breaths.Â
âSurrendered to me. Letting me feel you. Youâre my good girl, right?â
His dirty talk wasnât crude; it was sensual, almost poetic, ripped from the core of his overwhelmed being.Â
He drove into you, harder, his control slipping into something more primal. It became messy, clumsyâthe way he gripped your thighs, the way he shoved into youâthe want of his release overtaking his rationale.Â
You knew thereâd be bruises where he held you tomorrow.
He pulled out briefly, flipped both your legs to his right, then entered you with your legs togetherâthe sensation for him even more distinct, squeezing his cock even tighter.Â
His hands were on your sides now as he drilled into you. He leaned over as he pounded, his face so close to yours.Â
You couldnât look away, totally entranced by the primal look in his eyes. Heâd been taken over by the sensation, totally overthrown.
âI want to drown in you⌠I want this feelingâŚâ He thrust fast and deep now, as if he was fucking the sensual words into you. âForever, let me have it foreverâGodââ
You could feel your climax coming in, a slow, tectonic pressure from the deep, relentless pounding. You moaned loudly, your fingers tangling in the blanket.
âAhâahâ!â
âI feel it,â he gasped, his rhythm becoming more urgent, though no less deep. âI want to make you feel good⌠I want to see the pleasure blown out in your eyes.â He was muttering now between gasps of pleasure.Â
âIâm going to write about how filthy and utterly ethereal you look in this moment,â he moaned, cupping your breasts with his hands.
His words; the romantic filth of them, spoken in that breathy, wrecked tenor were your undoing.
Your orgasm erupted, a deep, feeling within you; your whole body convulsed mercillisly.
You clenched around him in rhythmicly, uncontrollably.Â
A broken cry was torn from your throatââMichaelâ!â
you could feel how wet you had become from your orgasm, and by the slick, slapping sound of his slow, deep thrusting, it was driving him wild.
He cried out with you, a sound of pure, triumphant awe.
âYes! thatâs my girl. I have waited so long to see you so dirty like this, to see your face in agonizing heatâŚâ
But he didnât stop after your come down.Â
He couldnât.Â
The feeling of your climax around him seemed to fuel a deeper, more desperate hunger.Â
His thrusts became harder, faster, losing their measured pace, becoming a frantic, driving rhythm. The bed shook. A figurine of Mickey Mouse toppled from the shelf with a soft clatter.
âI canât⌠I canât stop,â he sobbed, his voice breaking. He was fucking you now with a pure, unadulterated need, the romantic poet consumed by the primal animal. âItâs too good⌠youâre too good⌠I need more⌠I need to be deeperâŚâ
He was overstimulated, lost, chasing a feeling that kept escalating. He hooked your legs higher, over his shoulders, bending you nearly in half, and plunged into you with a force that stole the air from your lungs. His words dissolved into a litany of your name, interspersed with gasped, sensual fragments.Â
His eyes roamed frantically, but then settled on the sight of his own motion, biting his lip as he watched the remnants of your undoing pool at the base of his cock.
âMy heart⌠is in your skin⌠your taste is in my mouthâŚâ he moaned, breathlessly inbetween pumps.
He flipped you over with ease, onto your stomach. You had a brief moment to prepare yourself before he settled over you, pressing you into the mattress, and drove back into your from behind.
âYouâre mine, all mine, this is just for me, alwaysââ
His own end took him by storm.
His body locked, every muscle straining. A raw, ragged shout was torn from himââFuuuu--GOD-- Y/Nââ a sound that held no artifice, only pure, shattering release.
You felt his hot seed, pulsing into you, flooding deep within, a claiming that felt endless.
He trembled violently through it, his hips jerking with involuntary aftershocks, still buried to the hilt.
When the last tremor passed, he collapsed forward, but caught himself on his elbows, still sheathed inside you. He was panting, sweat dripping from his nose and afro onto your back. He looked down at you as you glanced back, his eyes wide, dazed, full of a wonder that bordered on fear. You both just started grinning at each other crazily.
âI think I got carried away,â he whispered, his voice hoarse and ruined. âIn you. I completely⌠got lost.â
"mhmm," you noted back, "ya think?"
He slowly, carefully, withdrew, and rolled to the side, pulling you instantly against him. His arms wrapped around you, tight, possessive. His heart hammered against your back.
He was silent for a long time, his fingers tracing idle patterns on your stomach.
âI donât know how I held off for so long,â he murmured finally, his lips against your shoulder blade.Â
The scent of sex; musky, sweet, and profoundly intimate hung thick in the air of Michaelâs old bedroom, a new perfume overlaying the old smell of books and toys.Â
Minutes bled by, measured only in the gradual slowing of breath. You felt spent, hollowed out and filled up, drifting away on the aftershocks.Â
Then, a shift in the energy beside you.
He lowered his arm.
In the soft gloom of the late evening, you saw his profile. His eyes were open, staring at the dusty mobile of the solar system behind your head. His lips, swollen and damp, parted. He looked so young like this, but he was grown now. The change you felt in him, even in the last few days was ludicrous. You fondly remembered how Michael would struggle to even hold your hand longer than 30 seconds, or heâd start madly blushing.
"Can IâŚ" he started, his voice a ruined, raspy thing.Â
He stopped, swallowed and then started again, the words tumbling out in a hushed, guilty rush.Â
"Can I put my mouth on you? Right now?"
The question hung in the air, inappropriate, vulnerable, filthy in its innocent hunger.
You turned your head on the pillow. "Michael⌠you just⌠you finished in me. It's⌠it's mixed."
He turned his head too.Â
His eyes found yours, and there was no shyness there, only a dark clarity.Â
"I don't care," he whispered, the declaration simple and absolute. "I want to taste you for real. I want to taste where I was. Please."
He didn't wait for a final answer. The "please" was a formality.Â
The decision was made.
He moved with a sudden, fluid grace that belied his exhaustion, sliding down your body like a man descending to an altar. He pushed your thighs apart with a firm insistence, his gaze locked on the glistening, spent evidence of your joining.
He hovered, his gaze fixed so intensely.
âSo beautiful,â he breathed, the words barely a whisper, soaked in awe. âLike a rose thatâs just⌠bloomed for me.â
His hands, which had been resting on your hips, slid inward. His touch was a little demanding, but still just as tender. His fingers came to rest on your outer lips, applying the gentlest pressure.
He began to part you.
It was a slow unveiling. The soft, swollen flesh, glistening with the combined evidence of your passion, yielded to his patient hands. He opened you like the pages of a cherished, secret book he was terrified to damage.
A soft, shuddering sigh escaped him. âOh⌠wow.â
He was looking at the heart of you, fully exposed to him in the dim light. The intimate, intricate folds, flushed a deep, needy pink, the glimmering wetness that coated everything, the tight, hidden entrance that still pulsed gently from his recent possession.
"Look at you,â he murmured, his voice sounding almost deliriously drunk with pleasure.
âAll pretty and pink and wet for me. Just for me.â He leaned closer, his nose almost touching you, inhaling deeply. The sound he made was one of a man tasting water in a desert; a low, guttural groan of pure, starving need.
"Oh, GodâŚ" he mumbled, his voice muffled against your flesh. "S'sweet⌠and saltyâŚ"
He was lost instantly. Any hesitation, any remnant of fastidiousness, was incinerated by the addictive, complex flavor. He ate at you with starving intensity. His tongue was blunt and demanding, lapping up every trace, diving deep to clean his own release from inside you with thick, curling strokes.Â
The sounds were obscenely wet, sloppy, loud in the quiet room. He moaned continuously, a low, pleasured hum that you felt in your bones.
You writhed, oversensitive, a confusing mix of shock and overwhelming arousal knotting in your belly. "Michael⌠ah! Too⌠im so sensitiveâŚ"
He lifted his head, his chin dripping. His eyes were black pools of delerium. "No," he breathed, the word a gentle command. "I havenât had enough. Sit on my face."
It was a desperate, worshipful plea.
He lay back flat, his hands coming to your hips, guiding you, pulling you up and over him. You braced your hands on the headboard, above his scattered pillows and plush toys, and lowered yourself, trembling, onto the waiting heat of his mouth.
Your world and everything in it, narrowed to sensation.
His mouth was a godsend; it was devoted hunger. As you settled your weight onto him, he let out a choked, blissful sound underneath you and his arms wrapped around your thighs, locking you in place.Â
There was no escape, and in seconds, you didn't want any.
He feasted. His tongue speared into you, fucking into the tender, well-used channel with a rhythm that was all his own. He alternated between deep, penetrating licks and frantic, fluttering sucks on your clit, his nose buried against you, breathing you in like oxygen. His hips began to move in tiny, abortive thrusts against the empty air, the blanket beneath him.
You were in disbelief at what had gotten into him â the boy you once knew had well and truly been replaced by a man. A handsome, steadfast partner, who clearly didnât have any thoughts of leaving you for anyone else; even in his fame.
You looked down at him from where you were perched over his face. And the sight⌠unwound you completely.
His eyes were squeezed shut in ecstasy, his beautiful face a mask of utter surrender.Â
Your eyes roamed away, and then you saw against his stomach, his cock was already fully, achingly hard again, thick and flushed and leaking a fresh pearl of pre-come onto the skin just below his belly button.Â
The sheer, wanton need of it and the fact that tasting you, servicing you, had him rock-hard and throbbing in seconds sent a violent, possessive thrill through you.
The power dynamic shifted on a dizzying axis.
You rose off his mouth, ignoring his grunt of protest. You moved backwards, straddling his hips instead of his face. His eyes flew open, confused, desperate.
"Whaâ?"
You didn't let him finish. You wanted to show him that other positions were just as good. You remembered something youâd read, a way to take controlâŚ
You reached between your legs, took his hard, slick cock in your hand, and guided it to your entrance, still wet and open from his mouth and his seed.Â
You sank down onto him slowly, sheathing him completely inside your sore, sensitive heat.
A dual cry tore through the roomâhis a sharp, shattered gasp of "God Damnâ!", yours a long, low moan of exquisite, overwhelming fullness.
For a second, you both froze, impaled, connected.Â
You saw the shock in his eyes, then the dawning, wild comprehension. You were in control. You were taking what you needed from him.
Then you began to move.
You rode him slowly at first, a deep, rolling grind, using the muscles inside you to clench his length.Â
His head fell back, a string of broken, sensual praises falling from his lips.Â
"Yess⌠ride me⌠use me⌠you feel so good taking your pleasure from me⌠only me baby"
But Michael was not a passive lover. He was jealous, stubborn and petty at times and this had to manifest in your sex life too.
The submission was a feint, a precursor to a different kind of power.
His hands, which had been gripping the sheets, flew to your hips. His grip was iron, his long fingers digging into your flesh. The gentle, curious boy was gone. In his place was a man consumed, only you on his mind and in his sightline.
"Harder," he growled, his voice darker than usual.Â
He thrust his hips up to meet your downward stroke, a sharp, punishing impact that stole your breath.Â
" harder. Take what you want. Use me."
He began to dictate the rhythm from below. He bucked his hips, meeting each of your descents with a powerful, upward drive, controlling the depth, the angle, the force. He was fucking himself into you from the bottom, his strength surprising, his need an inferno.
"Yes! Like that!" he chanted, his eyes blazing up at you, watching your breasts bounce, your face contort in pleasure.Â
"Good. keep going. I wanna feel you tighten around me again whilst you come for me"
His physical domination from beneath you was the spark that lit the fuse.Â
You cried out, your rhythm breaking into frantic, shallow bounces as the orgasm ripped through you, violently, your nerve endings completely shattered from what was going on.
He felt it. He saw it. And it unleashed the final, raw animal in him.
With a roar that was half-sob, half-triumph, he gripped your hips and lifted you off of him. In one violent, graceful motion, he flipped you onto your back and was surging over you before the cry could leave your throat. He slammed back into you to the hilt, hooking your legs over the crooks of his arms, folding you nearly in half.
"Mine," he said, the word a primal, guttural claim against your lips.Â
His rhythm was brutal, perfectly aimed despite his inexperience, a relentless, piston-drive fucking that had the bed slamming into the wall with a frantic, wooden THUD-THUD-THUD-THUD.
He was everywhere, his sweat dripping onto your chest, his groans hot in your ear, his hands gripping your legs like vices.Â
He was a beautiful, desperate machine, chasing his own end with fury, using your body to get there, giving you everything he had in the process.
"I thinkâŚm-gonna fill you up⌠againâŚ" he panted, his rhythm fracturing into erratic, deep jabs.Â
"Mark you⌠inside and out⌠so you never forget⌠whose girl you are⌠Ahâ! Ah, Godâ!"
His release was silent. His body locked, every muscle corded and straining. His mouth opened but nothing came out, his eyes wide and unseeing as he emptied himself into you in hot, pulsing jets, deeper than seemed possible.Â
He collapsed forward, but caught himself on trembling arms, still buried inside you, his forehead pressed to yours, his breath sobbing into your mouth.
Slowly, he softened and slipped out. He didn't roll away. He collapsed onto you, a dead weight of satiated obsession, his face buried in the crook of your neck. His arms slid under you, binding you to him completely.
His lips moved against your damp skin, the words slurred, thick with exhaustion and a profound, drunken awe.
âThey are gonna have to lock me up in a padded room to stay away from you nowâ