Latest Posts by starlightz4mj - Page 4

Janet Jackson & Michael Jackson photographed by Barry King while attending the 35th Annual Grammy Awards in Los Angeles, CA - February 24, 1993

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Just thinking about Mike in gold chains 😩🙏🏽💕

Kniolas Black Night

Photography by Xuebing Du

Instagram: xuebing.du

📸: honeymouz

embarrassment has good bones

Roberta Flack & Michael Jackson performing "When We Grow Up" on the Free to Be...You and Me children's TV special (1974).

Michael Jackson - The Way You Make Me Feel live at Wembley Stadium, Bad World Tour, July 14th 1988

The type of picture you’d put in your heart locket

Taylor Russell photographed by Luca Guadagnino inspired by David Lynch’s Blue Velvet, 2022

Movie Costumes | Sarah's ballgown, Labyrinth (1986)

A couple of michaels in my notes from today

LOVE ON TAPE

(michael loves his new camcorder) | 476 words

WARNINGS: fem!reader , sexual themes , filming sex , fingering , riding , exhibitionism

[1993]

im imagining mike with this new camcorder he bought. one he’d been eyeing & so excited to capture all of his memories with you on

like on nights out for events he’d post up in your full body mirror, scanning his suit

i’m recording he smiles, the camera following your strut from the closet

you look stunning. he marvels. absolutely gorgeous…and beautiful…and—

please, baby, we’re so late you chide him with a loving smile and tug of his hand

your lips, perfectly made-up, float behind the camera

a hum seals your kiss

i can picture him wanting to also record other things……

in front of the same mirror, the camera picks up the glimmer of gold that curls around, frames the glass

he has you record the two of you, naked, the view angling just below your chest, a mist of fuzzy bodies in the viewfinder, your legs multiplying as you stand in front of his

in the low light you look like two statues in a museum, the standing lovers

soft kisses spur behind the camera

and his hand slides across your breasts, skin supple from your shared bath and oil

slips, achingly slow, just so the camera sees it all,

like a serpent down your belly, reaching between your legs

he was an artiste that way…

middle finger circling, deeper than the rest, into the dip where your sweetness pools,

shakily you breath in , a motion on the camera, your head falls back onto his shoulder. a kiss is heard again

does that feel good?

mhm…

are you getting it?

mhm…

zooming in, he cups you with his whole hand

on camera, his wedding band glimmers

your gasp shakes the vision

knees quaking

and his dick is absolutely solid behind you, stiff against your skin where the bone dips in your hip, curves you like a violin

your teeth bite into your smile

let them see

there was no them but it got you wetter to think so

you guide the camera into one hand, holding it steadily as you spit into your palm, curve your arm back and wrap around him, your body moving sideways to get a better look for the lens

his breath is trembling, the effect magnetic

his fingers still caressed you, you both moan gingerly

his eyes watch you in the mirror, yours swing between the camera and his arm reaching around to play with you, the veins appearing in your view

you can’t tell which was sexier

you kiss his bicep, gasping louder now

you’re gonna make me…

mhm

the camera drops low as you come undone and michael chuckles, his fingers still rocking you mercilessly.

and maybe he’d record you in the dark, riding him feverishly, his hips melding into yours, his being so deep, his thumb sweet and methodic on your clit……….your moans……..oh he’d praise you like his life depended on it until you both shake with climax

the camcorder falling beside him on the bed

behind the camera, a symphony of panting and the lovers’ satiated giggling

screen cuts to black

𝚃𝚛𝚞𝚝𝚑 𝙾𝚛 𝙳𝚊𝚛𝚎

Smut

1984

HayvenHurst

Word Count: 7.1k

The family house buzzed with the warmth of laughter and the steady hum of music, though the melody was nearly drowned out by the boisterous chatter and the clinking of glasses. Red Solo cups were scattered around, each one filled to the brim with a mix of spirits and juices, the evidence of a night full of celebration and unwinding.

Perched on the kitchen counter, you found yourself nestled comfortably on Michael’s lap, his strong arm encircling your waist. The firm grip reassured you, keeping you securely against him as he engaged in conversation with his brothers, Jackie and Marlon. Yet, your attention wandered far from their words. The conversation was nothing more than a distant murmur as you became increasingly fixated on the gentle, repetitive motion of Michael’s thumb as it traced slow, lazy circles on the exposed skin of your lower back—back and forth, back and forth. The sensation sent shivers up your spine, a subtle reminder of the electric connection between you.

Shifting slightly, you pressed yourself more firmly against him, seeking both comfort and something more. He noticed immediately, his gaze lowering to meet yours. “You alright?” he asked, his voice laced with concern and curiosity.

You nodded, offering him a small, tight-lipped smile, though deep down, you were anything but alright. The truth was a secret buried deep within you—an unspoken confession of love for the man whose arms held you so tenderly. It was a love that was all too familiar to his siblings, though they remained blissfully unaware of the depth of your secret. None of them knew that when the night grew quiet and the doors were closed, you and Michael crossed the lines of friendship in ways that would shock them.

“Guys,” Latoya’s voice cut through the haze, pulling your attention back to the present as she approached with a playful grin. “We should play truth or dare,” she suggested, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

Jackie groaned in response. “Toya, we’re too old for that. Besides, if we mess up the house while Mother and Joe aren’t here, we’ll be in deep trouble,” he cautioned, though his words lacked any real conviction.

Latoya merely shrugged off his concerns, her determination unshaken. “You’re no fun. But we’re still playing. Go get Enid, and Marlon, go grab Carol,” she instructed, her tone leaving no room for argument.

With resigned sighs, the two brothers rose from their seats, heading off to fetch their wives, leaving you alone with Michael.

Latoya wasn’t done yet. “Michael, are you in?” she asked over her shoulder, already knowing the answer.

He shrugged, his aviators catching the light as he adjusted them on his face. “Sure, why not? But Jackie’s right—we’re too old for this.”

Latoya smirked, a glint of wickedness in her eyes. “We’ll make it dirty,” she teased before disappearing to gather the others.

As the room emptied, Michael turned his full attention to you, removing his aviators and setting them on the counter. His eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that made your heart race. “You heard her, right? She said she’s gonna make it dirty,” he murmured, his voice low and smooth.

You nodded again, trying to maintain your composure as the tension between you thickened. “I heard.”

His gaze dropped to the cup you held, a flicker of concern crossing his face. “You haven’t been drinking, have you?” he asked, reaching for your cup and taking a sip.

“It’s just juice,” you reassured him, watching as he took a swallow before setting the cup back down.

“Okay,” he said, though his eyes remained on you, studying your every move. “You sure you’re okay? You’ve been acting weird all night.”

You offered another nod, your voice a touch too soft as you responded. “I’m fine, Michael.”

But the truth was, you weren’t fine at all. The way he looked at you, the way his thumb continued to graze your skin—it was all driving you wild. Every stolen glance and innocent touch only stoked the fire that smoldered deep within you. The intensity of your feelings threatened to spill over, and all you wanted was to close the space between you, to tell him how much you loved him. But you hesitated, the words lodged in your throat, your desire simmering just beneath the surface, waiting for the right moment to break free.

Michael’s gaze never wavered, his eyes fixed on you as if he could see right through the facade. He knew you weren’t fine, but he was patient, waiting for you to come to him with the truth. “You know I’m gonna miss you when we go on tour,” he murmured, his hand sliding down to your thigh. His fingers slipped under your skirt, the warmth of his touch sending a shiver through you as he caressed your skin.

“I’ll miss you too, Michael,” you replied, your voice soft and filled with longing. You reached up to caress his face, your thumb brushing gently across his cheek. “I’ll try and come see you, though. You know that.”

“I know, doll,” he said with a smile that made your heart flutter. “You better call me, though. I’ll have someone send you the numbers to the hotels and everything. We’ll talk all night if you want, or… do what we usually do.” His grin turned playful, a mischievous glint in his eyes that made your pulse quicken.

You couldn’t help but laugh, a light, breathless sound that escaped your lips as you playfully smacked his chest. “Quit talking like that before your siblings hear you. We don’t need them catching on, Michael.”

“I know, girl,” he teased, his grin widening. “I’m just saying.”

You rolled your eyes, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. But before you could respond, the rest of the family began filtering back into the room, their presence shifting the atmosphere. They moved to the couches, settling in for what was sure to be a night filled with laughter and revelations, but you and Michael remained by the counter, his arm still wrapped securely around you as you sat on his lap.

“So who’s startin’ this?” Jackie asked, settling down with Enid in his lap, his tone a mix of curiosity and reluctance.

“Toya should, since she wanted to play,” Carol blurted out, her eyes narrowing playfully at Latoya.

“You guys agreed to it,” Latoya shot back, her arms crossed as she leaned against the wall, her expression one of determined mischief.

“Just start the damn game,” Jackie muttered, rolling his eyes as if to say he was already regretting this decision.

Latoya’s lips curled into a sly smile as she turned her attention to her brother. “Okay, Jackie, truth or dare?” she asked, her voice light but challenging.

“Why me?” Jackie protested, pointing to himself in mock indignation.

“‘Cause you’re talking back. Now answer. Truth or dare?” Latoya’s tone left no room for argument.

Jackie sighed, clearly resigned to his fate. “Truth,” he said, his voice carrying a hint of caution.

“Is it true you and Enid did it in Joseph’s car?” Latoya asked, her question landing like a bombshell in the room.

Jackie’s mouth fell open, a look of sheer disbelief on his face. “Now you know I wouldn’t do that,” he stammered, glancing at Enid as if to confirm his innocence. “He’d try and put his hands on me. He’d probably even kill me! Toya, what made you think that?”

Latoya shrugged, the picture of innocence. “I don’t know, it was just a question. Anyways,” she continued, her eyes shifting to the next target, “Marlon, truth or dare?”

Marlon bit the inside of his cheek, weighing his options before he sighed. “Dare,” he said, a hint of challenge in his voice.

Latoya’s gaze flicked to the counter where a few bottles of liquor sat, her smile turning wicked. “Take five shots,” she commanded, her tone daring him to back out.

“Now Latoya, you know Marlon is a lightweight,” Carol interjected, her concern evident as she eyed the bottles warily.

“I’ll be fine, hun,” Marlon reassured her, a playful grin on his lips as he gently moved Carol off his lap. “I’ll just crash here.”

Marlon stood up, swaggering over to the counter where you and Michael sat. You could feel the energy in the room shift, the tension thickening as everyone waited to see what would happen next. The night seemed ready to take a turn for the wild and unexpected, and Michael’s hand on your thigh only heightened your awareness of the connection between you, a steady reminder of the unspoken bond that pulsed beneath the surface.

Marlon grabbed five shot glasses, his movements deliberate as he poured whiskey into each one. You watched, almost entranced, as the amber liquid filled the glasses. Michael’s hand remained on your thigh, his grip firm, as if to anchor you in the moment. Marlon, with a determined look in his eyes, set the bottle aside and licked his lips, bracing himself for the challenge. Without hesitation, he began pounding back each shot, the glasses clinking as he downed them one after another.

“Marlon, slow down!” Carol’s voice cut through the air, but her concern was met with a dismissive wave. He didn’t listen, intent on completing the dare. With a final, defiant slam of the glass on the counter, he exhaled sharply. “I ain’t doing that again,” he muttered, his voice thick with the burn of the whiskey, before he staggered back over to the couch and plopped down with a satisfied grin.

Latoya chuckled, clearly amused by Marlon’s bravado. She turned her attention to Carol next, her tone light but with an edge of mischief. “Alright, Carol, truth or dare?”

Carol rolled her eyes, already anticipating the sort of trouble Latoya might stir up. “Truth, Latoya,” she said, her voice carrying a note of warning.

Latoya’s eyes gleamed as she leaned forward slightly, her question poised to strike a nerve. “Have you ever cheated on Marlon?”

The room went still, all eyes snapping to Carol. Her face hardened, and she shot Latoya a look that could cut glass. “Never in my damn life,” she snapped, her voice ringing with conviction. “Toya, I love Marlon, and every one of you knows this.”

Latoya held up her hands in mock surrender, a teasing smile playing on her lips. “I’m just kidding, relax,” she said, though the glint in her eyes suggested she enjoyed pushing buttons. Then, her gaze shifted, locking onto Michael with a new challenge. “Michael, truth or dare?”

You felt Michael’s grip on your thigh tighten, the tension in his body palpable. He glanced at you, his brow furrowed slightly as he whispered, “Which one?”

You shrugged, your heart racing as you tried to keep your cool. “I don’t know,” you whispered back, though the anticipation of what might come next sent a thrill through you.

Michael licked his lips, a sign of his nerves or perhaps excitement, before answering. “Dare,” he said, his voice steady but laced with curiosity.

Latoya fell silent, her eyes narrowing as she scrutinized the two of you. The room seemed to hold its breath, the playful atmosphere shifting into something more charged. Her gaze drifted down to where Michael’s hand rested possessively on your thigh, her smirk widening as she pieced together the unspoken tension between you. “Hmm,” she mused, her tone laden with implication as she looked back at Michael, her eyes sparkling with mischief. She had something up her sleeve, and whatever it was, it was bound to stir up the night in a way neither of you could predict.

Her smirk widened as she leaned against the wall, her eyes locked on you and Michael. The air in the room grew thick with anticipation, the playful atmosphere now electrified with something deeper. Her gaze lingered on Michael’s hand, still possessively resting on your thigh, before she delivered her dare with a mischievous glint in her eye. “I dare you to make out with her,” she said, her voice dripping with challenge.

Your heart skipped a beat, and you felt a jolt of shock ripple through you, but Michael remained unphased. His expression didn’t waver as he turned to you, then back to Latoya. “In front of you all?” he asked, his tone calm, as if he were merely discussing the weather.

Latoya’s smirk didn’t falter. She nodded, crossing her arms over her chest as if daring him to refuse. “You claim you don’t have any feelings for her,” she said, her eyes gleaming with a knowing look, “I just want to see it with my own eyes.”

Michael’s gaze softened as he looked back at you, his brow raised in a silent question. “You okay with this?” he asked, his voice gentle, a quiet understanding passing between you.

Despite the knot of nerves tightening in your stomach, you nodded. There was something exhilarating about the dare, about the prospect of revealing the hidden truth that simmered just beneath the surface.

Michael’s thumb brushed your chin as he cupped your face, drawing you closer until your lips were just a breath apart. His warm breath fanned across your skin, and you hesitated for the briefest moment. “Just act like we’re in a room together,” Michael whispered, his voice so low that only you could hear, the intimate suggestion sending a shiver down your spine.

Closing your eyes, you leaned into the kiss, your lips meeting his in a slow, sensual dance. The world around you seemed to melt away as the kiss deepened, his tongue sliding into your mouth to playfully wrestle with yours. Michael’s arm tightened around you, pulling you even closer, the kiss becoming a private exchange of emotions you’d kept hidden for so long.

The room fell into a stunned silence, everyone’s attention riveted on the two of you. Jackie’s eyes widened in surprise, the sight of his little brother’s intensity catching him off guard. Marlon let out a low whistle, leaning back into the couch with a smirk. “Damn, Mike,” he muttered under his breath, impressed by Michael’s boldness.

When Michael finally pulled away, his hand lingered on your face as he wiped the faint trace of his saliva from your bottom lip. His eyes searched yours, filled with a tenderness that made your heart race. “You alright?” he whispered, his voice full of quiet concern, as if the room full of people no longer mattered.

You nodded, your voice barely a whisper as you replied, “I’m fine.” Yet every word was a facade, masking the tumultuous storm inside you. The kiss had awoken something primal, an insistent longing that had been simmering beneath the surface, fighting to escape. Michael’s gaze, intense and smoldering, mirrored your own restless desires. His eyes, dark with unspoken yearnings, made it clear that he was feeling the same electric charge that coursed between you.

Latoya, her gaze flickering between you and Michael, finally looked away, her expression a mix of satisfaction and curiosity. The game continued, but with each new dare, the atmosphere grew more charged. The challenges for you and Michael became increasingly audacious, pushing boundaries in a way that heightened the tension between you two. The dares seemed designed to escalate the already palpable desire, adding fuel to the fire that was burning ever more fiercely.

Michael’s touch was a paradox, an intoxicating mix of tenderness and torment. When he shrugged off his jacket, the soft fabric slid against your skin like a whisper, its weight settling over your lap as a shield from prying eyes, cocooning the two of you in an intimate bubble. His hand, warm and insistent, began its deliberate journey up your thigh, each touch a promise of what was to come. As his fingers reached the waistband of your skirt, they moved with the precision of someone who knew exactly what he wanted, slipping beneath the fabric of your panties to graze over your sensitive folds.

“Don’t moan,” he commanded, his breath hot against your ear, his voice a rough, husky whisper that sent shivers cascading down your spine. The deliberate slowness with which his fingers moved, exploring the wetness that had already begun to gather, made your breath hitch in your throat.

You swallowed hard, your mouth suddenly dry as you fought to suppress the reactions his touch elicited. The warmth of his breath against your neck, combined with the tantalizing pressure of his fingers, was almost too much to bear. “Michael, slow down,” you managed to whisper, your voice a mix of desperation and need, but he ignored your plea, his fingers continuing their relentless exploration, each touch pushing you closer to the edge.

Just then, Latoya’s voice cut through the thick haze of desire, her tone playful yet demanding. “Michael, truth or dare?”

“Pardon?” Michael’s focus wavered for a brief moment, but his hand remained in place, his fingers never pausing.

“Truth or dare?” she repeated, her tone firm and unyielding, as if she were determined to break the spell he had cast over you.

Michael’s eyes flicked to hers, then back to you, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Truth,” he said, his gaze lingering on your flushed face before he turned his attention back to Latoya.

Her eyes sparkled with mischief as she asked, “Is it true that you like her?” The question hung in the air, heavy with implication.

Michael’s gaze flickered between you and Latoya, a momentary pause before he answered. “Yes, I do,” he confessed, his voice steady and unashamed, even as his fingers resumed their rhythm, sliding deeper with a calculated precision that made you grip his thigh in a desperate attempt to anchor yourself.

“Y-you like me?” you stammered, the words barely escaping your lips as your breath quickened, your mind struggling to process both his confession and the sensations his touch was provoking.

Michael chuckled softly, the sound low and intimate, vibrating against your ear. “You couldn’t tell by now?” he murmured, his fingers continuing their deliberate rhythm, each stroke perfectly aimed to drive you closer to the brink. “I’ve been throwing signs at you for a week, girl. I see you as more than just my best friend, and I think you know that.”

Jackie’s voice cut in, surprised yet amused. “Hey, at least she likes you too, Mike.”

Michael’s eyes locked onto yours once more, dark and intent, his fingers increasing their pace, pushing you perilously close to the edge. “You like me too?” he whispered, his voice a sultry murmur that sent another wave of heat coursing through your body.

“Yes, Michael,” you whimpered, the sound escaping despite your best efforts to stifle it.

“Don’t make that sound,” he whispered harshly, his breath warm against your ear, his fingers relentless in their pursuit, each stroke calculated to push you further.

You nodded, your head moving in a subtle, desperate motion, your body trembling with the effort to hold back.

“Why’d you wait to tell me?” Michael’s voice was louder now, cutting through the haze of desire, demanding answers.

“Because I—I didn’t know how you’d react,” you admitted, your voice trembling with both the physical and emotional intensity of the moment.

Enid’s voice joined the mix, light and teasing. “You should have told him sooner. You two would make a cute husband and wife.”

Michael’s fingers never faltered, each movement precise and purposeful, driving you closer to the edge with every passing second. “You think so?” he asked, his eyes never leaving yours, his focus entirely on you as he continued to push you closer to the brink.

“Yeah,” Enid replied, her voice filled with warmth. “She’d be a pretty Mrs. Jackson, and those babies would be adorable.”

Your eyes locked onto Michael’s, pleading with him, knowing that you were seconds away from losing control. The tension was almost unbearable, every nerve in your body tingling with anticipation, your peak so close you could almost taste it.

“Toya, can we end the game?” Michael asked, his voice tight with restraint as he continued his relentless assault on your senses.

“Uh, yes, I was getting tired anyways,” she agreed, the conversation fading into the background as your focus narrowed to the sensations he was eliciting.

Michael nodded, his fingers still working their magic, the wet sounds of your arousal muffled beneath the barriers of clothes. “You two staying in here?” Jackie asked, his tone casual, oblivious to the intimate moment unfolding right beside him.

“Yeah, I need to talk to her,” Michael said, his tone firm. “We’ll clean up when we’re finished.”

“Alright then, goodnight, y’all,” Jackie said as they all left the room, the door closing with a soft click, leaving the two of you alone.

“Michael, I’m close,” you moaned softly, your voice trembling with the effort to hold back.

“Not yet,” he whispered in your ear, his voice a mix of command and desire. His hand moved to cover your mouth, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that left you breathless. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked, his voice softer now, almost tender.

“Because I thought you didn’t feel the same way,” you whimpered, your voice barely audible, your body trembling with the effort to hold back.

“But I do,” he said, his voice a low murmur. “I’ve been trying to tell you.”

You closed your eyes, overwhelmed by the intensity of the moment, your body teetering on the very edge of release. But Michael wasn’t done with you yet. His hand cupped your face, his touch firm, demanding your attention as he forced your eyes open. His gaze was piercing, a silent command that sent shivers through your entire being. “Don’t cum,” he ordered, his voice a low, commanding whisper. “Not yet. I know they’re still out there.” His hand moved to cover your mouth, silencing any sound that might escape as his fingers maintained their relentless rhythm, holding you on the brink, the tension in your body building to a fever pitch.

Unable to resist, you laid your head back against his shoulder, your hips instinctively grinding against his hand, seeking the release he was denying you. His fingers moved with precision, curving just right inside you, each pump intensifying the burning need in your core. Your body trembled with the effort to hold back, every muscle tensed, desperate for the permission to let go.

Michael’s focus shifted to the sounds around him, the creak of the stairs and the soft thud of doors closing one by one, signaling that everyone was finally retreating to their rooms for the night. It was only when the house fell silent, the last door clicking shut, that he leaned closer to your ear and whispered, “Let go.”

The words were your undoing. You moaned into his hand, your body shuddering as you came undone, the release you’d been denied flooding through you in powerful waves. Your moans were muffled against his palm, your eyes squeezing shut as the pleasure consumed you, every nerve in your body tingling with the intensity of it. Michael watched you intently, his eyes tracing the lines of your face, then drifting down to your neck, lingering on the rise and fall of your chest, his gaze darkening as he took in the swell of your cleavage beneath your shirt.

“Just like that,” he murmured, his voice soft and coaxing, “let go for me, babygirl.” His words were a gentle push that sent you spiraling even further into the bliss he’d so carefully crafted.

As the tremors subsided, Michael’s hand moved from your mouth, trailing down your neck with deliberate slowness, his touch leaving a trail of heat in its wake. He slipped his hand inside your shirt, cupping your breast, his thumb grazing over your hardened nipple through the fabric, sending another shiver through your already sensitive body.

“So,” he began, his fingers finally slowing their pace, the pressure easing just enough for you to catch your breath, “are we together now, or what?” His tone was casual, but the question carried weight, his eyes searching yours for an answer.

You opened your eyes, still hazy with the aftermath of your release, and looked up at him. “Yes,” you breathed, your voice soft but certain, your head nodding slightly.

A smile spread across Michael’s face, a mixture of relief and satisfaction. He slowly withdrew his fingers from inside you, his touch lingering for a moment before he pulled his hand out from beneath your skirt. “Good,” he said, a hint of amusement in his voice as he brought his fingers to his lips, licking off every last trace of your essence with deliberate, lingering strokes. “Cause you’re coming on tour with me now.”

The words took a moment to register, your mind still foggy with the aftershocks of pleasure. “Really?” you asked, your breath still coming in shallow pants.

“Yes, really,” Michael chuckled, his tone light but firm. “I’m not leaving my girl behind, especially not for six months.”

A weak smile tugged at the corners of your lips. “I’m fine with that,” you replied, your voice tinged with exhaustion, yet filled with contentment.

Michael’s smile widened, a playful glint in his eyes. “You’re tired, aren’t you?” he asked, his voice a soft tease.

You shook your head, the denial automatic, though your body betrayed you with the slight droop of your eyelids. “No, I’m not,” you lied, though the weariness was evident in your voice.

Michael’s gaze softened as he looked at you, his hand resting gently on your cheek. “What do you want?” he asked, his tone tender, giving you the space to express your needs.

You shifted slightly, adjusting your posture until you were straddling his lap, the hard bulge in his slacks pressing against you, sending a fresh wave of heat pooling in your belly. Leaning in, you whispered against his lips, “I want you.”

Michael swallowed hard, his desire finally slipping past the restraint he’d maintained all night. His hands gripped your hips with a firm, almost possessive hold, pulling you closer until the heat of your bodies mingled. His eyes bore into yours, dark with intent as he bit his lip, the anticipation hanging thick in the air.

Without breaking eye contact, he reached between the two of you, fingers deftly unbuckling his belt and unzipping his pants. The sound of the zipper was almost deafening in the quiet room, a sharp contrast to the heavy breathing that filled the space. He unbuttoned his pants, and in one swift motion, he freed his hardened shaft, thick and pulsing with need. His hand moved deliberately, licking his palm before wrapping it around his length, stroking himself with a slow, purposeful rhythm. You both watched as the thick foreskin peeled back with each pump, revealing the sensitive, reddened tip beneath.

“Pull your panties to the side, baby,” Michael whispered, his voice low and rough with desire.

You stood, your knees trembling slightly as you hovered over him, your fingers slipping beneath your skirt to pull your panties to the side, exposing yourself to him. The cool air against your heated skin sent a shiver through you, heightening the anticipation.

Michael’s hands found your waist, his grip firm as he guided you into position. His eyes never left yours, dark and intense as he angled you just right. “Go down,” he instructed, his voice a husky command.

Slowly, you began to lower yourself onto his length, feeling the pressure as your walls stretched to accommodate his size. The sensation was overwhelming, each inch of him thicker and more substantial than the last, the slight curve of his shaft pressing against just the right spot inside you. A gasp escaped your lips as you took him in deeper, your body adjusting to the intrusion.

“Just like that,” he murmured, his gaze locked onto yours, watching every flicker of emotion that crossed your face.

You sank down until you were fully seated on his lap, your breath hitching as you stifled a moan, the sensation of being filled so completely sending a wave of heat through your core. Your walls throbbed around him, your body instinctively tightening against the intrusion, but you relished the delicious stretch, the way his girth filled you so thoroughly, making you feel every pulse of his heartbeat through his length.

Michael held your gaze, his eyes burning with a mix of desire and something deeper, something more possessive. His hands moved to your hips, both of them gripping you firmly as he began to guide you, moving you up and down his shaft with a slow, deliberate pace. The friction was intense, the tightness between you both creating a sensation that was almost too much to bear.

You whimpered softly, the sound involuntary as you felt every inch of him sliding in and out, your body responding to each slow thrust with a shiver of pleasure. The sensation was so intense, so real, that it was almost overwhelming.

“This feels real now, doesn’t it?” Michael asked, his voice a low murmur that vibrated against your ear.

You nodded, your voice barely more than a whisper as you replied, “Yes, Michael.” The intimacy of the moment, the connection between you both, made it feel even more intense. You leaned into him, your head resting against his shoulder, seeking comfort in the closeness.

Each slow, deliberate movement drove you deeper into a shared world where only the two of you existed. The rhythm of your bodies moving together, his length filling you completely with every glide, left you breathless and wanting. It was an unspoken language, a silent conversation between lovers, where every touch, every sigh, conveyed emotions too deep for words.

Michael’s hands slid beneath your shirt, his palms exploring the soft heat of your skin, savoring the feel of you. You took control, moving on his shaft with a slow, steady rhythm that drew soft whimpers from your lips. Each thrust sent a ripple of pleasure through you, the friction and fullness overwhelming your senses.

“You feel so good,” Michael murmured, his voice a husky whisper as he leaned his head back, his eyes closing to savor the sensations coursing through him. His hands on your waist tightened slightly, guiding you as he let himself feel everything—every emotion, every ounce of desire and connection that had been building between you.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, your fingers threading through the soft curls at the nape, steadying yourself as you moved. The intimacy of the moment wrapped around you like a warm blanket, making your heart swell. Leaning in close, you whispered against his neck, “I love you, Michael.”

His response was immediate, tender. “I love you more, pretty,” he whispered back, his arms wrapping around you as if he never wanted to let go. He turned his head slightly, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple, the simple act filled with affection and warmth.

Even though you weren’t in a room with a bed surrounded by candlelight, this moment felt more real and intimate than any romantic setting could have created. The rawness of your emotions, the honesty of your confessions, made it all the more powerful.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner,” you moaned, the regret tinged with the pleasure you couldn’t hold back.

Michael’s hands slid back down to your waist, his grip firm but reassuring. “It’s fine, I’m not mad. Besides, I got the girl I’ve wanted for years,” he said, his voice filled with a mix of satisfaction and tenderness.

You looked at him, a weak smile tugging at your lips. “So, even before we started messing around?” you asked, the curiosity in your voice mingling with the heat building between you.

He nodded, his pace quickening just enough to heighten the sensation, his body shifting slightly to angle himself deeper inside you. “Yes, baby, even before then. I wanted you bad,” he confessed, his voice low and sincere.

The truth in his words sent a thrill through you, your heart racing as the connection between you deepened. A moan escaped your lips, your red-polished nails digging into the fabric of his shirt as you clung to him. “Fuck…” you breathed, the intensity of your emotions leaving you raw and exposed.

Michael leaned in, brushing his lips over yours, the touch soft and teasing before he captured your mouth in a deep, heated kiss. The kiss was filled with everything you both felt—love, desire, longing—a perfect blend of passion and tenderness. The world outside ceased to exist as you lost yourself in him, in the rhythm of your bodies, in the undeniable connection that had finally been laid bare..

Michael’s pace quickened, his thrusts becoming harder and more insistent as he wrapped his arms tightly around your core, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you. The muffled sounds of your bodies moving together echoed in the small room, each impact sending the bar stool scooting slightly across the hardwood floor, rocking back and forth under the force of your passion. But neither of you paid it any mind, lost in the heat of the moment, in the intoxicating rhythm you’d created together.

The kiss between you deepened, growing more urgent, more desperate. His groans mingled with your moans, the sounds blending into one muffled symphony of pleasure. Your lips moved in perfect sync, a dance of passion and need that left you both breathless. His tongue brushed against yours, the sensation sparking a fresh wave of heat that coursed through your veins, intensifying the connection between you.

Your arousal coated Michael’s length in a glistening sheen, the evidence of your desire dripping down to the base of his shaft and soaking through his white linen briefs. Each thrust pushed him deeper inside you, the slickness of your arousal allowing him to move within you with ease, filling you completely with every stroke.

Michael held you close, his grip firm yet tender, as if he couldn’t bear the thought of letting you go. The intensity of his thrusts sent shivers down your spine, your body responding to him with a desperate hunger that matched his own. The room around you blurred, the only thing that mattered was the feel of him inside you, the sound of his breath mingling with yours, the undeniable connection that pulsed between you with every beat of your hearts.

“Michael,” you whispered against his lips, the word barely audible as your breath hitched in your throat. The heat between you was almost unbearable, your body trembling with the need for release.

“I’ve got you, baby,” he murmured in response, his voice low and filled with a quiet intensity. His grip on you tightened as he thrust deeper, each movement more powerful than the last, driving you both closer to the edge.

Michael’s words washed over you, his deep voice filled with a promise that seemed to reverberate through every fiber of your being. You moaned softly in response, burying your face in the crook of his neck, inhaling the familiar, intoxicating scent that had become a part of you over the years. The two of you moved in perfect sync, each thrust meeting the other in a seamless rhythm, your arousal slickening him further, dripping down to the base of his shaft as your bodies melded together.

Michael’s hands roamed your body with a reverence that made your heart swell, tracing every curve as if trying to commit every inch of you to memory, though you both knew he had already memorized it all long ago. His touch was firm, yet tender, exploring you with a mix of passion and devotion that left you trembling with need.

“Harder,” you moaned against his neck, your voice a breathy plea that he couldn’t ignore.

In response, Michael’s thrusts became more powerful, each one driving deeper into you, filling you completely. His grunts echoed in the small room, a primal sound that sent shivers down your spine. “I’m gonna give you everything, girl,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion and desire. “I promise.”

You moaned again, your core tightening, burning with the need for release, but you held on, savoring every moment, every sensation. You didn’t want this to end, didn’t want to let go of the connection that had you both entwined so completely.

Michael could feel the tension building within you, your walls pulsing around his thick length as he drove into you. “You close, aren’t you?” he whispered against your ear, his breath hot and heavy.

“Yes…” you breathed, the word barely escaping as a soft moan against his neck.

“Then let it go,” he urged, his voice a soothing command. “Don’t hold back. I want to feel you.”

“But I want this to last,” you moaned, your voice filled with longing.

“It will, baby,” he whispered, his words a tender reassurance. “It’ll always last.”

You lifted your head, capturing his lips in a deep, urgent kiss, your core burning hotter, the need for release becoming almost unbearable. Michael’s hands slid down to grip your behind, his large hands tightening around you as he guided your movements.

“I can’t hold on, Michael,” you moaned, your voice trembling with the effort to stay in control.

“Just let go, baby,” he murmured against your lips, his tone soft but insistent. “I told you, let go for me.”

With his words pushing you over the edge, you began to move faster, taking control, driving yourself toward release. Your legs trembled as you rode him, your pace quickening until you could feel the tension coiling tighter and tighter within you. Finally, with a muffled cry against his neck, you released, your body shaking as waves of pleasure washed over you, your walls clenching around him as you came undone.

Michael’s grip on you tightened, his own release nearing as he felt your body convulse around him. With one final, deep thrust, he buried himself inside you, his body stiffening as he released, spilling his warmth deep within you. He moaned your name, his voice raw and filled with need, as he filled you completely, emptying every last drop inside you.

The two of you clung to each other, your bodies still trembling from the intensity of the moment, your breaths heavy and ragged. Michael lifted your head, his eyes soft as he gazed at you, your forehead damp with sweat, your eyes still closed in bliss.

Leaning in, he placed a tender kiss on your lips, watching as your eyes fluttered open to meet his. “I love you,” he whispered, his voice gentle and filled with sincerity.

“I love you,” you whispered back, your voice barely above a breath, completely blissed out from the intimacy and affection that you had just shared.

“You alright?” Michael asked, his fingers gently brushing a strand of hair out of your face, his touch tender and concerned.

You nodded, feeling a wave of exhaustion wash over you. “I’m just tired,” you murmured, the weight of the night’s emotions settling in.

Michael nodded, understanding. “How about you go lay down on the couch? I’ll clean us up, then I’ll take care of this mess, and we can crash on the couch till morning,” he suggested, his voice soft and reassuring.

You nodded again, appreciating his thoughtfulness. “That’s fine,” you agreed, your body already craving the comfort of rest.

Michael helped you up, his hands steadying you as you rose from his lap. He watched, almost mesmerized, as the evidence of your shared passion began to slip from your body, coating him in a warm, intimate sheen. “Damn…” he muttered under his breath, a mix of awe and satisfaction in his tone. Reaching for the roll of paper towels behind him, he carefully wiped himself clean, his movements slow and deliberate.

Once he was done, Michael adjusted himself, tucking his shaft back into his briefs and smoothing out his clothes. Then, he turned his attention back to you, gently cleaning the remnants from your inner thigh. His touch was careful, almost reverent, as if he was savoring every last moment of closeness.

“Now go lay down,” he said softly, his voice filled with warmth. “I’ll be there in a minute.”

You nodded and made your way over to the sofa, kicking off your shoes as you settled onto it. The cushions felt soft and welcoming as you pulled a blanket over yourself, watching through half-lidded eyes as Michael moved around the room, tidying up the remnants of your night—empty juice bottles, liquor bottles, and scattered red solo cups.

When he was done, Michael walked over to the door and flicked off the lights, leaving the room bathed in the soft glow from the lights outside. It created a serene, almost magical atmosphere, perfect for the quiet moment that followed.

Michael kicked off his loafers and slid onto the couch beside you, slipping under the blanket and pulling you close. You nuzzled into him, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest against your cheek. “You think they’ll say something?” you asked, your voice drowsy as you burrowed deeper into his warmth.

Michael shrugged lightly, his hand rubbing slow, soothing circles on your back. “Can’t say much if they don’t know,” he replied. “But they’ll get the hint.”

You smiled sleepily, feeling content and safe in his arms. “I love you, Michael. I really do. But I didn’t think a game of truth or dare would bring it out,” you confessed, a soft chuckle escaping your lips.

Michael’s own tired chuckle rumbled through his chest. “At least we both know now,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “I couldn’t wait any longer to tell you. But just know, I’ve loved you for a while now. You’re always so sweet to me, so kind and loving.” His eyes met yours, the connection between you deepening with each word. “Get some rest. I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

You smiled, leaning up to place a tender kiss on his lips. “Goodnight, Michael. I love you,” you whispered, your voice filled with sincerity.

“Goodnight, baby. I love you too,” he whispered back, his eyes never leaving yours as he watched you drift off to sleep.

For a while, Michael stayed awake, taking in the reality of what had just happened, of how you had gone from best friends to something much more. It was a moment that should have happened long ago, but he felt grateful that it had finally come.

Eventually, he allowed himself to relax, his eyes growing heavy as he held you close. As sleep claimed him, a smile of contentment and love spread across his face, mirroring yours as you slept in his arms. This was just the beginning of something beautiful—a new chapter in your lives, one that you both knew would last.

“Good looking, good song! 😄👍”

Not him posing like he birthed Bubbles himself lmao

@michaelsfavgirl have you seen this ms girl…

requested by bad-era-obsession

Ming Xi by Naomi Yang for Grazia China July 2018