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[plumppies]

Beat It

 Michael Jackson

Synopsis: Grammys '84. You're attending with your boyfriend (reluctantly) and unfortunately, you have to throw hands about your man.

Pairing: Thriller ear!Michael Jackson x black fem!reader

Drea's Note: I saw two posts asking for a fic where reader beats tf outta Diana and I came to deliver. PLUS, I'm in a petty mood after constantly seeing ppl leave the fandom bc of the #that documentary.

Word count: 2.2k

Award shows. Oh, how you hated them. The pretence, the press and especially being around so many coked-up celebrities never felt right to you. Of course, they’d never admit to being drug-addicted losers, but you knew better. What kind of normal person sniffles and fiddles with their nose without actually needing to blow it? Right right. You hated it. As simple as that. You hated it all, loathed it even. But your boyfriend wanted you to be there for him. It’s the Grammys after all, and his latest album is nominated in pretty much every major category. He’s going to win it all. That’s a given. He’s going to sweep up every award, and you’ll be there to kiss him in front of the cameras every single time he gets up to collect another golden gramophone.

Maybe, just maybe, you like that, but that’s a big maybe. Showing off who you are to the rising star. You don’t want to admit it, but your ego inflates every time someone reminds you that you’re dating Michael Jackson. Of course, there's no guarantee that he’ll marry you—he’s yet to bring that conversation up—but who gives a shit? Michael Jackson is yourboyfriend. Yours. And that’s all that matters.

The car ride to Shrine Auditorium and Expo Hall is tedious and silent. You’re stewing in your own self-pity. The idea of simply jumping out of the car crosses your mind. Michael notices.

“Oh, come on. Don’t be like that.” He mutters, plucking at your Afro to fluff it up at the back.

“Shut up, Mike. I don’t want to do this.” There’s no venom in your words. Michael knows that. He merely scoffs and lifts your knuckles to his lips.

“You gonna be in a mood all night? The cameras are gonna catch every scowl.” He pecks each knuckle on your hand.

Instead of responding with sarcasm, you turn to him and smile obnoxiously in a silent “I’ll pretend’ manner. Michael snickers. His lips are still lazily grazing your hand as he stares at you. God, you’re so annoyingly sassy, but he loves it. He loves how blunt you are—maybe because he’s had to be sweet and gentle all his life. You’re unmoving, like a mountain withstanding a lightning storm. So sexy. So infuriating. The car drives over a speed bump, breaking the slight sexual tension that had been building between you both. When it turns the corner into the Expo hall parking lot, you swiftly remove your hand from his delicate grip.

Cameras flash in a staccato motion. It’s overwhelming. Nauseating. Michael steps out of the car first, aviators hiding his gorgeous eyes. The cameras flash faster than before, journalists asking senseless questions all at once. Michael pays them little mind, flashing his oh-so-charming smile at them, giving them little satisfaction. He rushes to your side of the car before opening the door for you. He whispers a quick “smile, woman,” into your ear and you oblige. Photographs of you both entering the Hall are taken. Every move you make, every breath and every micro expression is documented. You’re already over it.

The ceremony—to you at least—is lacklustre. A few performances here, award winners there and unnecessary speeches flow through the Hall at a painfully laggard pace. You’re nearing the brink of sleep, but you fight it off. Can you imagine what the press would say if they caught you slumped in a theatre chair at the Grammys? Not only would that embarrass you, but your loving partner. You blink a few times, and finally, finally, Michael’s name is said.

“Male Pop Vocal Performance goes to Michael Jackson!”

And then another.

“The Grammy for Record of the Year goes to…Michael Jackson!”

And another, and another, and another until your lip gloss has finally gone dry from pressing chaste kisses on Michael’s perfectly sculpted face.

Your eyes stay fixed on him, blue-black and gold military-esque jacket glistening under expensive lights. He looks ethereal. Otherworldly. You have to admit you’re enjoying yourself now. Watching your man win 8 awards in one night gives you an indescribable high, a high he seems to notice because when he wins Album of the Year, he dedicates it to you. You kiss the bottom of his chin, a light red lipstick stain glistening on his as he accepts the award onstage. His speech is short but cutting, telling the crowd—and those watching at home—how much you inspired him throughout the album’s creation.

And soon after, the show ends, and the cameras stop broadcasting. You just have to suffer the post-award show interviews, and then you’ll be free from this glitz and glam-covered purgatory. Right?

Wrong.

“We’re going to the after-party,” Michael bounces. he hops smoothly, as if his bones are made of springs.

You want to melt there and then. Michael practically skips to your shared limousine, holding the door open for you to enter. He jumps in after you.

“I’m not going. No way.” You murmur. Michael shakes his head, holding your hand as he did on the way here.

“It’ll be fun! Drinks, food, music and dancing,” he practically sings, words dancing in the air like magic dust, “Please?”

“You’re way too jolly for my liking,” You scoff. He’s used to this, you getting all irritated by his famous lifestyle. He understands. He really does, but tonight is different. He won 8 Grammys for god’s sake; first person to do that, ever. Let alone being a black man to set that record. He’s elated, buzzing with justified pride. You can literally feel him vibrating beside you. “But fine. We’ll go to the damn after-party.”

Celebrities dance and sing alone to their own song in the warmly lit club. Alcohol flows through the room in waves and bodies sway in their elegant outfits. Some stars have changed into completely different attire. Show-offs.

You mingle as much as you can. Michael stays beside you for the most part  until he’s swept away by David Bowie. He says something about “wanting to introduce Michael” to a few friends. Your arm reluctantly unhooks itself from Michael as you dolefully watch him vanish into the crowd. With a frustrated smile, you find an empty seat near the back booth in the club. A few stars greet you. Some stable nearby chairs and make small talk with you while others remain standing. You notice a few snorting coke by the bar, sipping on something strong right after.

“Good lord, get me outta here.” You mumble inwardly, pinching the bridge of your nose, disconsolation evident in your mannerism. You can hear your boyfriend's heavenly laugh in the distance. Too heavenly for your liking. A piercing pang drops in your gut and, without further thinking, you get up and stride confidently towards the sound of Michael laughing again. When you make it to him, you see her.

Diana fucking Ross.

“Oh hi!” She gleams mockingly at you, waving her hand in your direction while her other hand caresses Michael’s shoulder. “I didn’t think you’d be here, y/n.”

“Hi,” you mimic her tone, although less enthusiastically. Michael stiffens when he glances in your direction. Your jaw is clenched, and your hands are balled up in tight fists. “Didn’t think you’d be up at this hour either.” You smile wickedly.

Diana laughs it off, her lanky fingers still raking sensually over Michael’s shoulder. Michael doesn’t even move. He remains still, an awkward grin plastered on his even more awkward face. You’re not surprised he’s not moving. Michael has never been good with situations like this, and you’re well aware of the history between him and Diana. Fucking weird either way. There isn’t any situation where a woman should be all ‘touchy feely’ with a man 14 years older than him.

“What’s got you laughing so much, babe?” You question his loud chuckles from a minute earlier. Diana responds for him.

“A little inside joke between us from years ago!” She keeps up the pretence, You wouldn’t understand, sweethearts!”

Sweetheart? Who is she calling sweetheart?

“I have time.” You pry.

“Ah, it's nothing serious.” She grins.

“Seems serious enough to have you eye-fucking my boyfriend.” You quip.

Michael’s eyes widen behind his aviators. The three of you stand in thick, unbreaking pressure unnoticed by the rest of the party. Rage envelopes you in a fuzzy hug. Diana’s hand continues its journey around your man’s shoulder. Her thumb and index finger circle his chin, and without warning, she puckers her lips and kisses Michael right above his chin, leaving a purple lipstick stain on his lower's lip in its wake.

The damn within you cracks. Anger as thick and hot as molten lava seeps from every orifice and pore.

“You fucking bitch! I’m gonna fuck you up—” You lunge forward, your hands grabbing Diana’s hair as you drag her to the ground. The music keeps playing, muffling Diana’s pained and shocked screams. She’s completely taken off guard. Never in her life has anyone of Michael’s dates or girlfriends stood up to her like this. In fact, none of them stuck around long enough to have to deal with bullshit like this.

You straddle her on the floor, fists bashing at every inch of her face and chest. Each blow to her face is met with a curse and wince from her. Diana’s eyes water in agony. She cries for help, but her wails are nullified by the beating rhythm of music. Ironically, Michael’s ‘Beat It’  bounces out of large speakers, loud and deafening. Michael freezes completely. The only thing he manages to move is his hand as he disgustedly wipes Diana’s lipstick stain off his lip. He watches the scene unfold before him, eyes glistening—not with sorrow but with endearment too shameful to admit. You’re going batshit crazy on Diana right now, and he…likes it?

“Heavenly Father…” He mutters in absolute awe for you, “What a woman.”

One loud piteous cry from Diana eventually draws people’s attention, specifically David—who had been the one to take Mike away from your hold hours again. He hooks his arms under yours and drags you off of Diana. You don’t go out without a fight, kicking at her mindlessly as David drags you away. One kick in particular hits her ribs, drawing out a sharp cry from her.

All eyes are on you now. The music has stopped, and murmurs about the debacle travel to and fro. Michael eventually snaps out of his daze. His body shakes off the last remnants of sudden paralysis as he crouches down in front of Diana—not to check on her but to inspect your violent artistry. His large sunglasses hide the glint in his eyes. Diana shields her face in both hands, embarrassment evident in how she curls into herself on the floor.

Behind Michael, David still holds you back. He repeats “calm down” in your ear whenever you try to pounce. Your chest heaves energetically, hands grabbing at David’s arms when you finally try to get yourself together. He doesn’t mind. He’s seen shit like this before. If he was honest, what you did is nothing compared to what he’s witnessed on past occasions.

Soon enough, Michael is at your side, replacing David’s hold on you in a subtle manner. Instead of holding you in an undertook like Bowie had, he lovingly places his warm hands on your waist and hugs you from behind.

“Woman, you’ve done it this time,” Michael whispers. Someone rushes to Diana’s aid while another calls for medical attention. He rubs gentle circles over your hip bone with his thumbs and sighs, looking around the room. Cops could be on their way, though the chance of that is unlikely. Having police in a drug-ridden club would look bad for the Academy and the club itself.

“Who’s she feeling like? Kissing on my man? In front of me!” You lunge forward, but Michael holds you back.

“Enough, pretty thing.” Mike’s tone is stern now. As much as he’d like to entertain this further, he’s aware of how damaging this could be for you both. “Let’s go. She’s not going to press charges.”

“And you know this how?” You scoff and reluctantly ease up in his hold.

“Trust me.” He doesn’t explain further. You know what he means, and you hate it. As much as their…relationship irks you, you know Diana’s got a soft spot for him. If need be, he’ll toy with her heartstrings to get you off the hook.

The limousine ride to your hotel room is quiet. Michael massages your bruised knuckles and chuckles to himself.

“Ain’t shit funny,” you mutter, a faint smile splayed across your makeup-shone face, “I could go to jail.”

“Shoulda thought of that before you went all ‘Muhammad Ali’ on her.” He huffs, spreading his legs and shifting in his seat. He clears his throat when you notice it.

“Really, Mike? You’re sick.” You giggle.

“Might need you to beat up on me too.” Michael jokes bashfully, leaning in to kiss you.

“Boy, wash your face first…and scrub them lips extra hard.” You push him away. He pouts in mock offence but understandably nods and snickers, leaning back in his seat as the car rolls forward through the late night.

taglist

@pyt03 @lov3lylxvender @nobleumbrashrine @zerosugarcherrydrpepper @angeleface @fanficreader33 @beberock375 @michaeljacksonsleftnipple @xxhoneymo0n @kordulka @iiovey0u @michaeljacksonsbae @ningizuo @tellybearyyy @kneelarmhstrung @mikejacksbabymommaaaaa @nunusmoll @istayuptoolateonthisapp15 @funkaoverwar @khxna

[urelliee]

— in the name of love?

— era: pre!bad & dangerous.

— genre: angst, romance, celebrity drama, soulmates, hurt/comfort, pining, emotional infidelity, public love confession

— pairing: michael jackson x female reader

— contains: diana ross interference, mentions of mj’s previous traumas, jealousy, heartbreak, years of unresolved feelings, michael making the wrong choice, emotional manipulation, longing, public apology, tears, soulmates who can't let each other go, happy ending

SUMMARY: for years, you stood beside him while history, loyalty, and guilt pulled him away. you were the woman who understood him better than anyone. the woman he always came back to. just never the woman he chose. until one award show changed everything.

(A/N: okay LISTEN 😭😭😭 this story hurt my feelings while i was writing it because michael is literally his own worst enemy here. i wanted him to be frustrating in a way that's actually heartbreaking, because sometimes people don't lose the love of their life from lack of love. they lose them because they keep putting them second. also yes diana is PUBLIC ENEMY #1 in this fic i'm sorry (not sorry, i hate her guts) ✋ this is obviously fiction and heavily dramatized for the plot but i needed the yearning, the jealousy, the "choose me for once" energy. and michael's speech at the end??? yeah. that's the entire reason this story exists.)

people always talked about michael joseph jackson as if he belonged to the world, and that was precisely the problem because nobody ever stopped to ask whether the world deserved him or whether michael knew how to belong to himself.

you met him during a time when he was already fractured in ways most people couldn’t perceive. While everyone else saw the records, roaring crowds, and his diamond gloves with moonwalks along the seemingly impossible levels of fame, you witnessed the cracks beneath the surface.

you saw the man hiding beneath it all, the one who endured his father’s abuse and believed that love could only be earned through suffering because his mom always condoned his father’s abuse and mostly the one who couldn’t tell the difference between loyalty and sacrifice. that was exactly his tragedy. he would hand pieces of himself away until there was almost nothing left then apologize for not having more to give.

the first thing he ever said to you was strange, and of course it was. normal conversations never interested him.

he looked at you during a party neither of you wanted to attend and asked, “do you think people can miss somebody before they’ve met them?” you stared at him. “that’s a weird question.” he smiled. “that wasn’t an answer.”

you should’ve known then. you should’ve known you were doomed because nobody had ever looked lonely the way michael did. he was not even when surrounded by thousands, especially not then.

the relationship happened slowly. not because either of you lacked feelings, but because both of you understood exactly how complicated they were.

he wasn’t easy to love, and unfortunately that man was a disaster. beautiful, very gentle, brilliant, and funny. but emotionally? a complete catastrophe.

he loved with his entire soul and then panicked whenever somebody tried loving him back.

he’d call you at three in the morning because he couldn’t sleep then disappear for three days because the conversation meant too much. he wanted closeness, and maybe needed it. but intimacy terrified him so much to the point where you became the only person capable of navigating those contradictions.

you were the only person who understood that michael wasn’t difficult because he didn’t care, in fact, he was difficult because he cared too much. and for a while, everything worked out despite the struggles.

until diana came. the thing about diana wasn’t that michael loved her, of course he loved her. it was so obvious from the start. the point being was that diana existed inside his life like gravity.

everything bent toward her including him. maybe especially him.

it wasn’t romance of some sort, not was friendship. it also wasn’t mentorship. it was something that had rooted itself so deeply inside michael’s identity that he couldn’t separate where her influence ended and where he began and diana knew. that was the part that made your stomach twist.

some people possess power and never use it and others possess power and forget they have it. though, diana possessed power and exercised it effortlessly like breathing.

she’d enter a room and michael’s attention would shift before she even spoke not because she demanded it. he offered it freely like muscle memory.

the first time it hurt was small, it was almost insignificant.

it was at a charity event with you and michael laughing together. his hand resting against your lower back, his bambi eyes shining bright and happily.

then diana arrived and it was like somebody flipped a switch. his body physically turned toward her, focus followed, and energy followed. everything followed.

you watched yourself disappear in real time not because he stopped loving you, but because he forgot to choose you. there was a big difference and somehow that’s more pathetic because intentional cruelty can be confronted. unintentional neglect leaves you arguing with ghosts.

your friends had reassured you that, “you’re imagining things.” or that, “he didn’t mean it.” or that it was, “that’s just diana.”

you grew to hate those words. as if those words explained every wound. every disappointment, those multiple occasions that somehow became hers, and every moment michael abandoned before realizing he’d left.

you began noticing a few repeated moments, patterns nobody else wanted to acknowledge. diana would appear and michael would orbit. you would become invisible in a way you would never have imagined. again and again.

it wasn’t dramatic, maybe that would’ve been easier. it was death by a thousand shards of glass. it was those small and constant moments. moments that accumulated until one day you woke up exhausted.

you weren’t competing with another woman, you were competing with his story. and unsurprisingly, his story was winning.

the worst argument happened in private, and of course it was private. the worst heartbreaks always do. nobody remembers them except the people they destroy.

you’d been together at neverland and the sun was setting. everything should’ve felt beautiful, and instead it felt like standing on the edge of a cliff. because diana had called and michael was leaving again.

you don’t even remember what started the fight. only how it ended and the feeling of standing in the middle of neverland while the sun disappeared behind the hills, watching the man you loved more than anything look everywhere except at you.

it had probably started over something small. it kind of always did. a phone call with you, those damned canceled diners, and another promises postponed. another moment that somehow became about someone else. it was always her, it always came back to her somehow.

the argument had been building for years anyway and this was just the first time neither of you could stop it. “why is it always her?” the words left your mouth before you could soften them.

michael froze and his shoulders tensed along with his gaze dropping immediately and somehow that hurt more than if he’d yelled back because he already knew.

you saw it on his face that he knew exactly what you were talking about: he just didn’t know how to fix it.

“look at me.” only to be faced with silence, “michael.” still nothing. your chest tightened. “why is it always her?”

he swallowed and looked away. that absolutely told you everything.

you laughed, except it didn’t sound like laughter. it sounded wounded. “so much for words.” your eyes burned. “wow.”

“don’t do this right now, please-” he finally looked up, though you wished he hadn’t because there was guilt in his eyes. there was so much guilt, in fact, that guilt was worse than denial. guilt meant he knew.

you stared at him as his jaw clenched. “make me choose.” the world suddenly went quiet. you actually had to pause because for a second you couldn’t believe what you’d heard. then your expression shattered. “make you choose?” you repeated softly. pathetically soft. “that’s what you think this is?”

“you’re misunderstanding what this is.”

“then what did you mean?”

he opened his mouth then soon pursed it. nothing came out and suddenly you were exhausted. just tired, so unbelievably tired. “i’m not asking you to stop loving her.” your voice cracked. “do you understand that?”

he stared at you.

“i have never asked that.” another breath. “i have never once asked you to stop caring about her.”

“i know.”

“no, michael. i don’t think you do.” your eyes filled. “because if you understood me, we wouldn’t be standing here, and i wouldn’t have been so insecure with this whole thing we have going on.”

he looked devastated, and for once, you didn’t feel any guilt nor remorse. great. “everybody says she’s important to you.” you laughed bitterly. “every single one.” another step backward. “nobody ever asks what it’s like to be the person standing next to that.”

his face fell yet you kept going because this was years worth of heartbreak pouring out at once. “do you know what it’s like?” your voice shook. “to walk into a room and immediately wonder if i’m about to lose you again? and also to watch your attention disappear the second she walks through a door?”

“to spend entire nights pretending i’m okay because i know if i say something, i’ll be the bad guy?”

he looked sick but you didn’t stop. not anymore. not again.

“the worst part is that i know you love me.” his eyes widened. you laughed again with that same horrible sound. “because if you didn’t, this would’ve been easy.” a tear stripped down your cheek. “if you didn’t love me, i could leave. and if you didn’t love me, i could hate you. but you do love us.”

your voice broke. “you love me and somehow i’m still standing here begging for scraps.”

“you’re not—”

“stop.”

and he did stop immediately.

“don’t tell me what i’m feeling.” you wiped your face angrily. “i’ve spent years understanding you.” your chest hurt. “i just wish you’d spend five minutes understanding me.” the silence afterward felt uncomfortable. finally, you asked again. quieter this time. more broken in fact.

“why is it always her?”

michael looked down and his hands trembled.

then came his whisper, “because she was there before everyone else.” the words landed like a gunshot and for a second you just stared.

and you wished he could have added more context, but there wasn’t and somehow that was the answer.

the sound of a heart finally understanding its own death. “and what happens when somebody comes after?” his face crumpled. you stepped closer. “what happens when someone loves you after?”

your voice rose. “what happens when somebody stays?” another step. “what happens when somebody chooses you every single day?”

“what happens when somebody gives you every piece of themselves?” tears blurred your vision. “what happens then?”

he couldn’t answer because there wasn’t one. and that was the pathetic part of it all. there never had been.

“you know what breaks my heart?” you whispered. his eyes squeezed shut. “if she called right now…” your voice cracked. “…you’d leave with no thought behind for us.”

his silence was immediate and instinctive and you nodded slowly because there it was. there was your answer.

“see?” you laughed through tears. “we both know i’m right.”

“it’s not like that.”

“then tell me i’m wrong.” nothing. your heart shattered right there. “you always come back.”

he looked up desperate and hopeful because he thought that meant something.

you saw it happen and somehow that hurt too.“that’s what makes this so cruel.” his expression collapsed. “i know you’ll call tomorrow.” your voice softened. “i know you’ll apologize.” tears slid down your face. “i know you’ll cry.”

“i know you’ll mean every word.” you shook your head. “and somehow that doesn’t fix anything anymore.”

“please.” his voice was barely audible.

you almost broke right then because you loved him. if you didn’t love him, this would’ve been survivable.

“i feel stupid.” your voice trembled. “because every time you walk away, i tell myself it’ll be the last time.”

he stared at you completely shattered.

“and every time you come back…” you swallowed. “…i let you in again.” his eyes filled with tears and you hated that they did because now you wanted to comfort him even now.

even while your own heart was breaking, you were still worried about his. you were still choosing him. and he still wasn’t choosing you.

“i don’t think diana is the villain.” he blinked and was surprised. “i think the villain is the fact that you know exactly how much this hurts me…” your voice broke. “…and you still can’t stop.” he physically flinched. that’s great. let him drown in his own sorrows. let him feel one fraction of what you’d been carrying.

“you make me feel loved.” your words came out small and fragile. “and you make me feel abandoned.” his face crumpled with your words.

“i don’t know how both things can be true.”

you looked at him. the person you’d spent years loving and the person you’d have followed anywhere. “i would’ve followed you anywhere.” a sad smile appeared then gone just as quickly. “that’s the embarrassing part.”

his eyes closed. “you never even had to ask.”

then came the final wound. the one neither of you would ever forget. “i think if you had to choose between losing me…” his breathing stopped. “…and disappointing her…” tears blurred everything. “…you already made that choice years ago.”

the uncomfortable feeling afterward felt endless and for the first time since you’d known him, michael jackson had absolutely nothing to say.

his face fell. because for the first time he understood that you weren’t asking him to stop loving diana. you were asking whether there would ever be room for anyone else. whether your future was permanently trapped inside somebody else’s shadow.

and michael couldn’t answer because deep down? he didn’t know and that was what destroyed you. not the uncertainty, rather the realization that he genuinely didn’t know.

months passed, then maybe years. you left. not dramatically nor angrily. you were just tired of being the escape route for his complications with diana. you can survive heartbreak and you can mostly survive betrayal. what you can’t survive forever is being somebody’s almost.

he stopped calling as often, stopped showing up, and stopped reaching for your hand. the silence between you became something living and something you grew accustomed with.

people assumed you'd broken up, and the truth was worse. there had never been anything official to end. just two people destroying themselves over a love neither could let go of.

you kept working, and he kept performing. the world kept turning and neither of you moved on. everyone could see it. maybe especially him. because every woman he stood beside wasn't you.

every room he entered felt emptier than it should, every award became heavier, achievements tasted wrong. he had chosen comfort over courage and it haunted him.

and that’s what you’d become, almost the love of his life.

you were always an almost. the person he wanted. almost. the future he dreamed about. almost. everything important. except chosen.

michael tried moving forward and the world assumed he succeeded. the world was wrong because success never fixed what was missing. awards didn’t fix it, stadiums didn’t fix it, and applause didn’t fix it. nothing unfortunately did.

he kept collecting achievements and somehow feeling poorer because grief does something worse.

it doesn’t always arrive when you lose someone, sometimes it arrives years later when you realize exactly what you lost and exactly why.

michael eventually reached a conclusion that terrified him. the greatest love of his life hadn’t left because she stopped loving him. she left because he never gave her a reason to stay. that realization haunted him like a ghost because regret is heavier than heartbreak.

heartbreak says it ended, regret says it didn’t have to, which brings us to the award show.

by 1996, the regret had become unbearable. you knew it, and he knew it. the entire industry knew it. nobody talked about it though. until the grammy awards, maybe where the night everything exploded. you'd been asked to present one of the biggest awards of the evening. the album of the year, cameras adored you, and the audience adored you. yet somewhere in the front rows you noticed where michael sat with diana. of course. you saw them before the show started.

your heart dropped to the floor when his eyes found yours immediately and they stayed there for far too long.

another speech and another headline, instead they witnessed a confession.

the night history finally cracked open. the audience expected another michael jackson victory.

you stood on stage presenting the award. elegant, composed, and very much untouchable. those years had sharpened you and made you stronger and harder to reach.

michael saw it immediately and for the first time in his life, it frightened him because you no longer looked like somebody waiting. you looked like somebody capable of leaving forever.

the winner was announced. his name echoed through the auditorium, and it was your voice that announced his win. the applause began and people stood. those haunting flashes of hollywood cameras flashed but michael couldn’t hear any of it.

because all he could see and hear was you, standing there, holding and presenting the award. the woman he’d spent years loving and years losing.

he walked toward the stage, past celebrities, past cameras, and past diana. past the gravitational force that had dictated so much of his life.

later, newspapers would obsess over that detail. the way he never looked at her. not once.

because for the first time since you’d met him, michael wasn’t being pulled by old loyalties. he was making a choice and he reached you, accepted the award. then stopped.

the audience sensed it immediately that something was happening. something bigger than music ever was, than fame, more than entertainment.

michael turned toward the microphone. his hands shook and it was not from nerves. from truth.

“all my life,” he began softly, “people have told me who i belong to.” followed up with silence that swallowed the room. “my family.” another breath, “my fans.” and another, “the world.” his eyes found yours. “and for a long time, i believed them.”

you didn’t (couldn’t) move, and neither could anyone else.

“i spent years giving pieces of myself away because i thought that was what love was.” his voice cracked. “i thought all love meant was having an obligation.” the room remained seemingly still. “i thought loyalty meant abandoning myself.”

tears filled his soft eyes. “i thought being grateful meant never leaving rooms i had already outgrown.” you saw it right then. the exhaustion from so many events, the regret, and mostly the weight he’d carried for decades.

michael looked like a man setting down something enormous, and it was something he’d been dragging behind him his entire life. then, he looked directly at you, and in an instant, the entire world around both of you vanished. “she loved me when i had nothing to offer except myself.” his voice broke completely. “and i was so busy giving myself to everybody else…”

his breath hitched, and you couldn’t help but feel pitiful for him. “…that i forgot to give myself to her.”

the audience was crying now openly; because some truths are too human to resist and some regrets are universal.

michael stepped closer, and his eyes never left yours. “the biggest mistake of my life wasn’t trusting the wrong people.” another step came. “it wasn’t fame.” and another, “it wasn’t success.” he swallowed.

“it was making the woman i loved feel like she was standing second in a story where she should’ve been first.” and right there? you felt your heart shatter then heal. all at once. and then finally, he said the thing he’d been terrified of for years.

not because it was difficult, but because it was irreversible. “i love you.” the room inhaled as he spoke: “i have loved you for years.” his voice grew stronger and steadier.

“and if history remembers me for anything…” he reached for your hand. “…i hope it remembers that eventually i found the courage to choose you.”

the applause was deafening but it sounded distant because michael was crying, and so were you.

somewhere in the audience, diana ross sat and watched. she wasn’t angry or furious; she was simply witnessing something she had never anticipated. for perhaps the first time in Michael’s life, he was not following the path of familiarity; he was finally walking in his own heart, guided by his own instincts. and somehow that was far more shocking than any declaration of love.

because the real confession wasn’t that michael loved you, everybody already knew that. the confession was that after all these years he loved you more than he feared disappointing everyone else. and for michael? that was the bravest thing he had ever done.

[prettyangeliczz]

🐆💋 — the guilt that comes with being around dbf!michael is beginning to eat you alive. two days have passed since his drunken call. he apologized a million times, saying it was inappropriate of him to put you in that position. so far, he’s been trying to fix his mistake. bringing you to different places to buy out the stores, but all it does is give you butterflies and bring the ache between your thighs again. you thought that maybe you could move past it, that if you force yourself to be around your boyfriend, these small feelings will go away again, right?

that is until michael brings you to his place after taking you out to an event with him. the attention is all on him of course, he kept his hand on your back or around your hand. squeezing it gently to make sure you’re okay, whenever you showed signs of becoming overwhelmed, he spoke to you in your ears cracking jokes to make you feel better. it worked like a charm, always, he knows how to distract your mind. a part of you hated how your body would feel from his keen gaze and hands that never seemed to leave your body. and the grip he had around your waist on accident when some random journalist came up to you to get your number, you felt as if your legs could give out right then and there until he tells the man you’re already dating someone.

at his place, michael had a private chef cook all your favorite meals, the two of you sat at the dining table and ate. you’ve ignored your phone most of the time you were with him, your boyfriend texting you to see how you’re doing. you were tired of this shame following you around like a thunder cloud, michael told you to text him back, stating how it’s rude to ignore someone. you felt even more ashamed at how turned on michael’s stern tone made you feel, but you listened.

michael could see the stress in your body, even after all this week, he spent most of his time trying to find different ways to make you feel better. he took you out shopping more, brought you to your favorite restaurants, and sent you extra money for whatever. yet, still nothing. as you finished up your message and sent it, michael tells you to come sit beside him, the silence between you getting stronger. once you get over to him, one of his hands glides down your leg to your ankle, picking up your foot, he takes off your shoe and places your foot on his thigh, raising his hand immediately to stop you from complaining. still quiet, michael begins to massage your foot, both hands working diligently as he watches you closely. still so tense.

“things your boyfriend should have a good eye on, is this.” he mumbles, your heart beats faster. “michael.” you start and he shakes his head. “i should’ve saw it myself too, i’m sorry for not seeing it sooner, sweet girl.” the way his voice gets deeper, a little breathier, you swear you could have moaned right there. your phone lights up, your boyfriend sends you another message, michael nudges his head to it, “answer it, don’t be rude.” he says, his hands moving up your ankle. eyes still locked on your face, you pick up your phone, and see your boyfriend asking you when you’re coming over to his place. forgetting that the two of you planned to go on a date after so long.

“need me to drop you home?” michael pulls your attention back to him, his hands not stopping, the look in his eyes, you could almost give him anything if he asked. you glance back at your boyfriend’s message nod, michael hums and sighs. “after this massage, then, i’ll get you back to your boyfriend, safely.” it was intentional, michael’s annoyed, he’s so annoyed by your boyfriend’s existence but michael really loves giving you stuff your boyfriend can’t. maybe next award show he’ll take you as his date and won’t correct the next person that assumes you’re his new girlfriend.

[prettyangeliczz]

dbf!michael who’s jealously seeps through his actions whenever your boyfriend comes around. he’ll hover over you more than your dad, under the guise of wanting to make sure you’re okay. he knows you’re okay, he just can’t let anything happen further when he’s around. a part of him dislikes the fact that your boyfriend is a big fan of his music but anything to keep him away from you, right?

dbf!michael, who spoils you rotten, sending you money for whatever. he knows you have everything you need usually, being the independent person that you are. the thing is, michael is obsessed with the way your voice gets whenever he sends you money. the guilt dripping from your tone, begging michael to take back at least some of the money but he doesn’t listen. telling you it’s okay, don’t worry your pretty head, spend the money or save it so he can add more to it later.

he also makes sure you’re at most of his concerts, front row, just so he can keep his eyes on you during most of it. dbf!michael makes sure he has dirty diana and in the closet on the set list, needing you to hear his breathy voice and slight moans. he has this hidden smirk and desire on his face, eyes locked on yours, making your heart beat faster. you swear it’s just the performance, but you know it’s more than that. the dreams of michael coming to you, touching your body, reappear. you tried so hard to push them away years ago, but how could you?

dbf!michael, who loves it whenever he takes you shopping, he’ll play it off to your dad and you that he’s just being nice, and yeah, he is but he really wants to see what you’ll pick out. he’ll follow you to the dressing room, standing outside, trying so hard to keep his boner down whenever you come out with something new. he’ll ask you in that soft voice of his to twirl for him, seeing the curves of your body peak out. you feel hot whenever he does that, whenever his eyes and attention are stuck on only you. he chews on his gum harder, licking his bottom lip, fingers playing with something on him cause he can’t touch you.

dbf!michael doesn’t mean to show off his awards and achievements, but he does, reminding you that your boyfriend can’t and will never compare. so many things he does, dbf!michael will remind you what a man is, and it’s definitely not your boyfriend. so, he’ll wait patiently, manipulating everything to his way, because he knows sooner or later your boyfriend will be out of the picture. you’ll cry to michael, be captured in his loving arms, and he’ll take good care of you.

[mccartneyqp]

Sugardaddy!michael

Fuckkkk I need himmm

[hon3yarchives]

— all over, all over, all over

michael jackson x fem!reader

SYNOPSIS: michael comes home late after a long night at the studio, looking forward to just lay in bed and snuggle up to you, his lover. but to his surprise, he finds you.... baking apple tarts at midnight?

CONTENT: 18+ mdni, fluff, suggestive content but no actual smut, established relationship between michael and reader, i had dangerous era!michael in my mind while making this but feel free to imagine whatever you want.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: i was bored all day and had nothing better to do so i just sat down and wrote this in one sitting so this is probably buns LMFAOO this is also NOT proofread so i apologize for any mistakes. again, i dont use ai and i do not consent to any of my work being used to train ai, so if u think i write stuff way too fast, i be surprising myself as well lol this is just a one time thing cause i dont have anything going on rn.

WORD COUNT: 1,362

It was around midnight when Michael had just finished a studio session and truthfully, he was just about ready to collapse into bed and cuddle up next to you and be wrapped in your scent. Tonight’s session was way too tedious and monotonous than usual. Not much progress had been done despite the long hours that were given up and it frustrated him. Burnout wasn’t something that Michael could afford but when he couldn’t even write a single line, he knew he needed a break.

It was normal for him to come home during late hours of the night and you were fine with it, opting to wait until he got home despite him protesting and telling you to get some sleep. ‘I don’t sleep well when you’re not here, anyway’ is what you would always say to him. It would usually result in a little petty argument about you not taking care of yourself and you spinning it to him not doing the same but it would always end up with you cuddled up in each other’s arms. And right now, as Michael walks to the front door, it’s all he can think about.

When he nears the door, he pauses for a moment, noticing from the window that the light in the kitchen is turned on. His brows furrow in confusion because you would usually be in bed right now curled up with a book. It was slightly unusual. Nonetheless, he pushed the door open and walked in.

Immediately as he sets his hat on the hook, the scent of baked goods greets him which led him to walk to the kitchen. There, he sees you standing over the oven with a hand on your hip, wearing an apron. Your hair was up and away from your face and your brows furrowed in concentration, clearly you hadn’t noticed that he was there. He watches from the doorway as you grab an oven mitt and check on whatever’s baking in the oven. He smiles and chuckles when you curse, seeing that the goods weren’t done yet and slam the oven back shut.

He clears his throat and calls out, “Baby.” You look up from the oven and jump a little, seemingly startled by his sudden appearance which makes him giggle. “What are you doing?” he asks as he walks towards you, hands reaching out to rest on your hips.

Your hands come up to rest his chest as you look up at him, smiling sheepishly. “Baking apple tarts,” you say as you reach up to gently toy with his curls.

“At midnight?”

“…Yeah?”

He chuckles at the ridiculousness of it all. “Why? You’re usually in bed by now.”

You shrug, pulling away to check at the oven again. “I was in bed but I was reading this cook book and decided, why not try one of the recipes?” you bent over, keeping your eyes on the treats in the oven. In your concentration, you don’t notice the way Michael’s eyes trail over you. The apron was tied quite tightly around your waist and it accentuated your form in a flattering way; it was hard for him to keep his thoughts appropriate at the moment.

You were blabbering something about the supposed recipe you were using when he slightly tilted his head, his eyes wandering to the curve of your ass. Whatever you were saying went in one ear and out the other as he mindlessly nodded and hummed along to your words. When you’ve suddenly gone quiet, his eyes snap to yours and he finds you staring at him with a straight face. He smiles sheepishly.

“You were saying?”

“Mike.”

“I’m sorry, okay? You just look really good in that apron.”

He grins at you as you scoff, straightening yourself up. He stretches his arms out and wraps them around your waist as he embraces you from behind, bringing his head down to gently nose at your neck. When you tilt your head to the side to give him more access, he starts to place soft kisses up to your ear. “I missed you,” he mutters before he rests his chin on your shoulder, his hands caressing your sides.

You turn your head to place a kiss on his cheek. “Missed you too. How was tonight’s session?”

He groans, squeezing slightly around your waist. “Way too long. Didn’t really get anything done. Just wanted to come home.” He slouches against you, a deep sigh exiting him. You turn in his arms to face him but his hands remain on your waist.

Your hand raises to caress his cheek and you say, “You should go to bed. You’re exhausted.” He immediately shakes his head and brings his hand up to cover yours, placing a kiss on your palm.

“No, I wanna stay here with you. And try your tarts.”

You snort. “They’re not done yet. You can try them in the morning.”

He waves his hand in dismissal and moves to lean against the kitchen island behind him. “I’ll wait right here then.” He was stubborn, of course. He didn’t want to go to bed without you. Besides, it was what he was looking forward to the entire time he spent in the studio. The last thing he wanted right now was to sleep in cold sheets.

You stand there, staring at him as he smiles at you. He waves his hand, urging you to continue what you were doing. “Well go on, do your thing.” You chuckle and shake your head at his stubbornness, taking the oven mitt off your hand and placing it on the counter behind you. You walk towards him and bring your hands up to his shoulders. His arms immediately wrap around your waist in response.

“They’re still baking. Might take a while.”

He hums, eyes trailing down to your lips as he bites down on his own. “What do we do while we wait?” His voice drops and his eyes come back up to yours, but they’re darker now. Lidded. His hands were now slowly trailing underneath the string of the apron and the shirt you were wearing to feel at your soft skin. Your heart starts to race a little as you look up at him.

“What do you suggest?” You ask as you tilt your head and smile at him which makes him chuckle. His eyes drop to your lips again and go back up before he finally leans in and presses his lips against yours.

The kiss was slow at first, but when he introduces his tongue, it went deeper. He squeezes his hands on your waist before they trail down to your thighs. You gasp slightly when he lifts you up and onto the kitchen island, the cool temperature of the marble contrasting with the warmth of your skin. Michael stops to stare at you for a moment, admiring.

“You’re so pretty,” he says, making your face heat up. Despite years of being together, he still had that effect on you. You roll your eyes to dismiss the compliment which makes the both of you giggle. You then reach out to tug onto the collar of his shirt to pull his lips back onto yours.

He sighs into the kiss and tilts your head back with his hand slightly to deepen it. The kiss goes on for what felt like minutes before his lips start to move down your chin and to your neck. You let out a whine when he starts to nibble and bite. “Michael,” you let out as your hands tighten on his shoulders. He hums into your neck in acknowledgement. You let out a soft chuckle and say, “I thought you were tired?”

He huffs a laugh out, looks up at you for a moment and says, “Never too tired for this.” And then his head goes back down to kiss and suck on your neck again making you gasp and wine.

“Mike-”

His hands move to undo the string of your apron and then-

Ding!

He pulls back abruptly. “What was that?”

You take a moment to catch your breath and let out a laugh. “The tarts.”

end.

[iimsopretty]

She isn't me ~ m.Jackson

Sypnosis: you and Michael attend the after party of the AMAs, but it seems that Diana Ross can't stop throwing herself at him. Thriller era

An~ ngl i have like 13 drafts of js unfinished stories 🫪 this was lowkey one of them 🫰🏾this isn't proof read.

The club was packed.

Every important person in music seemed to be there, every producer, songwriter, model, and actor. The air smelled like expensive perfume and cigarette smoke.

The two of you usually didn't attend the after parties but after the eight awards Michael won tonight, you couldn't pass a celebratory drink up. You stood next to Michael in the VIP section with your hand wrapped around his arm , while he laughed at something Quincy said.

You gently release your grasp from Michael letting him know that you were going to go get a drink, you turn to him to kiss him on the cheek before making a beeline to the bar

The line at the bar definitely took longer than you expected. Finally getting to the front, you ask the bartender for a sex on the beach.

By the time you had got your drink and started making your way back to Michael , you stomach dropped

Tonight was supposed to be a peaceful night.

It's not like you didn't know about the crush Mike had on her but she didn't have to be in his face like she was the one he was with.

Diana had no decorum.

This was embarrassing, she was in his face. Your man. She's in his face, smiling, laughing and touching him. This just didn't sit right with you.

You silently make you way back next to Michael while sipping your drink. He looked star struck while talking to her. It pissed you off but this wasn't the time of place. Diana finally took the time to look your way.

"Oh , here she is" the smug look she had on her face didn't make the way you felt about her any better.

"Diana , this is my girlfriend (name) and (name) this is Diana" Michael introduced the two of you like you didn't know who each other were.

"Oh I know who she is , I'll see you later Mikey " Diana turned on those worn out heels of hers and walked away.

You genuinely couldn't stand this bitch ,it's like she lived and breathed just to torment you.

"Why was she talking to you" Michael turned towards you with a confused look on his face, Mike couldn't understand the tension between you and Diana.

Though this was the first time you two met in person. Anytime Mike brung one of the other up in conversation nothing nice was ever said.

"She was just being polite, she came up and greeted me baby" the smile on his face calmed you down a little, you knew he meant no harm in speaking to the girl but it still made you feel a way

After a while of sitting with Michael while you nursed your drink, Diana decided to pop up and ruin your night and possibly your image.

She interrupted your conversation. She took a seat next to him not even acknowledging your presence at the table

"Mikey , you know , no matter how old you get , you will forever be my baby" you couldn't help but cringe.

You knew Michael would eat those words up, she really had the nerve to disrespect you in your face, you couldn't help but smile while sipping your drink that should've been long gone.

"Diana.." Michael started before she cut him off.

"Oh Mikey " she said as she patted his thigh, he quite literally shuttered from that. You rolled your eyes and let out a tired breath. You were about to get up until she decided to focus her attention on you. Bad idea for her.

"You know Michael use to tell everybody that he was gonna marry me one day " you knew this , everyone did. She was his silly ass crush.

"Hm I did, but it seems I'm the one with the ring" you smiled at her but it seems that didn't shut her up.

"Nobody really knows him like I do " you practically laughed in her face , she didn't like that. "Oh do you ?" The tone she spoke with wasn't nothing you were fond of.

"Of course, he loves me and you will never feel that because you will never be me"

Oh that set you off , you set your drink down gently.

"Baby , how about we just leave " leave ? Oh now he wanted to leave because his two loves were disagreeing with each other. You weren't going anywhere now.

"Be you ? Me ? Want to be you ? A old ass bitch preying on young men? Interesting " you looked her dead in her eye. She was backing down and neither were you.

People nearby started to slowdown their conversations. They lived for drama. Especially this, the king of pops girlfriend arguing with his lifetime crush.

Michael put his hands over his face.

"I'm just saying it's always gonna be me "

And with that comment you watched all of your patience fly out the window. You stood up and she did too.

By this time a crowd had already been formed, watching the two of you. "Can we all just stop, this is very awkward " you almost listened to your boyfriend until you felt a pair of hands shove you.

You turned around and shoved her back. Michael was terrified at this point. But the situation was beyond that

You were about to handle this old ass bitch

She grabbed your arm and before she could do anything else you hit her hard enough to make her think straight. The crowd around the two of you grew and Micheal couldn't see you guys anymore

You grabbed a handful of her hair and dragged her down, with her kicking, screaming and swinging at you it just made you more angry than you already were. The couple of hits she got on you weren't worth nothing

At this point you had the both of you on the floor with you on top of her, the punches you were throwing at her were genuinely nerve wracking to some of the people surrounding you. You didn't stop till you seen blood leaking from her.

You stood up once more and took her by the hair again and dragged her in front of the bar , picking up an empty glass you felt a pair of hand grab you from behind.

"(NAME) PLEASE STOP, LETS JUST GO" Michael sounded terrified, you let go of her hair and dropped the cup back onto the bar. You turned around and walked past him. He took a look at Diana "uhh she'll be okay " and quickly turned to follow you

The crowd ate all of that up , you knew it'd be front page news by tonight. But that didn't matter you were pissed she thought she had a one up on you.

Michael followed you outside to the small balcony. Your arms were crossed as you sat down in the chair out there. He sat beside you. The silence was taking over the both of you , until he spoke.

"I'm sorry " you looked at him calmly, "what are you sorry for " Micheal looked at you.

"For letting her disrespect you infront of me , she shouldn't have said those things to you " at this point you didn't care about any of that. You laughed

"It's fine Mike , she just needed to she her where her place was"

-------------—---------------—------------—---------------—---

Am I lowkey wrong for ending it there. Idk guys this might b ahhhh and it's short 🫰🏾 ok bye.

[asamantis]

Mature era makes me feel so...

[mjssluttyfish]

lay back in my tenderness

warnings: 18+ minors dni, cunnilingus, pussy drunk, yearning, coochie warming(lmao), sub!michael, whining, begging, hints of oral fixation, your own personal rose, thriller era!michael, somnophilia, overstimulation if you squint, absolutely no plot.

pairing: michael jackson x fem!reader

wc: 1k+

how could you resist him when he says things like this, while looking up at you like that?

“lay back in my tenderness, lemme taste you girl.”

“ i want to touch you all over, all over baby please I’ll be good for you”

“ i just wanna make you feel good, I’ll be good f’ you”

“lemme just feel it girl, need you on my tongue”

“It’s so cold in here baby, lemme keep her warm for you”

It starts the way it always does with him on his knees.

He's already hard before he even touches you, his cock straining against his jeans as he presses his face into the inside of your thigh. He breathes you in, deep and slow, like a man taking his first lungful of air. His doe eyes are half lidded, dark and glassy, his lips parted. He's not begging yet. Not out loud. But the way his fingers tremble against your skin says everything.

"Please," he finally breathes, voice hoarse. "Please, baby. Let me taste you. Just a little. Just—" He kisses the crease where your thigh meets your hip, tongue darting out to taste salt and warmth. "I need it. I need it."

You barely nod before he's burying his face between your legs.

Michael doesn't start slow. There's no teasing, no gentle buildup. He goes straight for your clit with the flat of his tongue, laving it in long, broad strokes that make your hips jerk. His hands grip your thighs, spreading you wider, holding you open for him like you're a meal he's been starved for. And he has been. Every hour away from you is an hour of withdrawal, of craving, of counting down until he can have this again.

He moans against you, the vibration sending a jolt straight to your core. His tongue flicks faster, circles, presses flat, then flicks again. He's sloppy. Desperate. There's no technique to it just pure, unadulterated hunger. Saliva and your wetness mix together, dripping down his chin, and he doesn't wipe it away. He wears it like a badge of honor.

"Fuck," he mutters against your cunt, the word muffled by your flesh. "Fuck, you taste so fucking good. Sweet. So sweet. I could—" He stops talking because his mouth is too busy, too full of you.

He loses track of time down there. Minutes blur into hours. His jaw aches, his tongue cramps, but he doesn't stop. Can't stop. Every time you try to shift away, oversensitive and trembling, he tightens his grip on your hips and pulls you back. His nose presses into your pubic bone, his lips sealed around your clit, sucking gently at first, then harder, then letting go only to dive back in.

When you're in bed, he crawls under the covers without a word. You feel his hot breath against your inner thigh before his mouth finds you, half-asleep and warm. He nuzzles into your cunt like a man seeking comfort, lapping lazily at your folds until you're wet and sighing in your sleep. He falls asleep that way sometimes his cheek pressed against your thigh, lips brushing your clit, breathing you in. He wakes up hard, aching, and immediately starts all over again, licking you awake.

During the day, it's worse.

He'll pull you into the studio under the pretense of needing your opinion on a new track. The door clicks shut, the blinds close, and suddenly he's on his knees again. He shoves a pillow under him not for his comfort, but to get the angle right. His chin tilts up, his tongue out, waiting. Begging with his eyes.

"Just a taste," he whispers. "I'm stuck. I can't write. I can't think. I need—" He presses his forehead to your thigh, breathing hard. "I need your pussy, baby. She's my muse. She's the only thing that makes the words come."

And you let him. Because it's true. The moment his mouth finds you, the tension in his shoulders melts. His hands roam your ass, squeeze, spread, pull you closer. His tongue works you until you're gasping, your fingers tangled in his hair, your hips grinding against his face. He moans with every flick, every suck, every time your cunt clenches around nothing because his tongue is right there, pressing into your entrance, tasting your cream.

He comes in his pants without realizing it.

The first time it happens, he's so focused on your pleasure that he doesn't notice his own cock throbbing, pulsing, spilling into his jeans. The wet patch spreads warm against his thigh, and he only becomes aware of it when you're done, panting and limp, and he pulls back with a glistening chin. He looks down at himself, blinks, and then grins, sheepish, embarrassed, but also proud.

"Sorry," he mutters, but he's not sorry at all.

It becomes a pattern. Two pairs of jeans a week. Sometimes three. He starts buying cheap brands because he knows they'll be ruined. The laundry basket fills with stiff, stained denim, and he never complains. He just shuffles to the drawer, pulls out another pair, and gets back on his knees.

You have to push him away.

It's the only way it stops. When your clit is raw and swollen and every flick of his tongue makes you flinch, you press your palm against his forehead and shove. He resists at first, whining against your skin, trying to chase your taste as you pull back. "No," you say, breathless. "Michael. Stop."

And he does. But only because you said so. Only because your voice has that edge of finality that he can't ignore.

He sits back on his heels, chin wet, lips red and puffy, eyes glazed. His breathing is ragged, and there's a smear of your arousal across his cheek. He licks his lips slowly, savoring the last traces.

"Sorry," he says again, but his voice is thick. He's not sorry. He's already thinking about the next time, counting the hours until he can taste you again.

He crawls up the bed and curls against you, pressing his face into your neck. His hand is still wet, still slick with your juices, and he brings his fingers to his mouth, sucking them clean one by one. His eyes close. He's content. Sated. But only for now.

Because tomorrow morning, before the sun rises, he'll be between your thighs again. His tongue will find your clit before you're fully awake. His mouth will seal over you, and he'll hum in satisfaction, drinking you down like a man dying of thirst.

And he'll whisper, half to himself, half to you: "Not my fault you taste so sweet."

He says it like a prayer. Like a confession. Like the truest thing he's ever known.

(a/n: andddddd yet another old note turned into a mini fic posted, been thinking about how michael has the most insane case of ‘coochie pls🥺’ eyes I’ve ever seen for a long while)

[toastedbagles2]

just good friends (part 1)

being in a secret relationship with the world's biggest star was as fun and thrilling as expected, but protecting that secrecy proves much harder | 5.7k words | masterlink

pairing: thrad!michael jackson x stylist!reader

info: MDNI!!! partially inspired by the song "just good friends", secret relationship, jealousy, little bit of angst, mostly fluff, lots of pet names, making out

a/n: ig i'm finally writing mj stuff... no idea why it took me so long. also lmk if we want a prequel or something for this. requests are open!!!

──────────୨ৎ───────────

michael shrugged the sequinned jacket over his shoulders. he'd done multiple fittings with you for this exact outfit, but you still couldn't help but feel nervous.

you ran your hands over the tops of his shoulders, flattening out the fabric while staring at him through the mirror. his stoic face scanned his figure in a deep analysis. with an inhale, he turned to catch himself at various angles. the natural lighting in the room bounced of the black sequins, their reflection hitting the roof and walls around you.

the painfully loud silence made the moment stretch out for eternity. if you paid close attention, all you could hear was your breathing and the faint sounds of new york city traffic penetrating the closed hotel window. it must've been only 30 seconds but it felt like an hour of silent critique and panic at the thought of him suddenly disliking the outfit.

"hm..." michael hummed lowly. he pulled at the cuffs of the jacket, feeling the fabric beneath his fingers, assessing the shapes they created. you stepped back from him, giving him the room you knew he needed while getting accustomed to the jacket.

"what do you think?" though you'd known him for a little over two years, having been hired shortly after thriller was released, you still couldn't help but feel nervous while awaiting his approval.

he took a second to respond, standing motionless before the mirror. he sucked his lip in, gnawing at it gently. the butterflies in your stomach made an appearance at the sight. your eyes were trained on his lips with such focus that you didn't notice when michael's eyes snapped back to you. a giggle broke the silence, forcing you to match his gaze through the mirror.

"you're blushing, y/n." michael's grin was audible in his voice.

"oh shut up," you playfully pushed at his chest before covering your cheeks with your hands. "i'm not," you said despite the heat emanating from your skin.

"it's ok, honey, no one's around." michael stepped towards you, placing both of his large hands against the back of your hips, just above your ass. with a gentle tug, he pulled you towards him. it didn't take much convincing for you to be pulled into him. michael had always been magnetic, and ever since you two fully gave into your mutual attraction, your resistance to his magnetism was wearing weak.

"it's just that my boyfriend looks so damn sexy all dressed up like this." at this, it was michael's turn to blush. the few tendrils of long curls curtained over his eyes. as in alignment with his recent choice to go for a new look following the success of thriller, michael had decided to grow out his hair. it was during this process you realized just how good he looked with every hairstyle he tried.

"i'm just wearing the clothes you choose for me," he shrugged humbly.

"and it just so happens that i know what my man looks good in. guess it's a win-win for both of us." a smile poked at your lips as the distance between your lips closed. michael, greedy as ever, tongued at your lips playfully. though you wanted to give in, you knew just how far things would go and how weak your restraint would be if things went any further. you shortened the kiss and pulled away, much to michael's dismay.

he hummed a sound of disappointment in response.

"we can't get started because we both know we ain't gonna be able to stop," you tried to reason. michael dramatically rolled his eyes. "we're on a tight schedule, babe, let's keep this going."

reluctantly, michael withdrew his hands from your hips and faced the mirror once more.

"yeah, the jacket's good. these alterations feel a lot better compared to the last fitting," michael nodded with confidence. you nodded back, finally relieved to hear his approval for the outfit.

"but now that i'm done, what are you wearing tonight?"

your eyes wandered to the bathroom door where your dress was hung up in a garment bag. "i don't even know how you snagged an extra ticket for me. i would've thought that they'd only say yes to bill being with you."

"well, i consider me and bill to be one person for every invitation..." a cheeky grin grew on michael's face. "leaving me with a plus one, which'll be you."

you spun to face michael as he walked towards the bathroom door, unzipping the garment back. revealed was a gorgeous black velvet sleeveless dress with a corset-structured top and an a-line skirt. michael sucked in a sharp breath, imagining how gorgeous you'd look in it.

"it's kinda useless to give me a plus one if i can't even be your plus one. it's pointless if we're trying to keep this whole thing between us a secret." you couldn't hide the disappointment in your voice.

michael turned, looking at you with the hint of a frown on his face. "but i still want you to be there. it's as close to normal as we'll get without making this public."

with understanding, you nodded, walking towards him. sure, you didn't want to be sneaking around, hiding from every peeking eye and camera, but it was the situation that you two agreed upon to best protect your privacy. though the public was mostly unpredictable, you both knew for certain that the media would eat you alive. stories would be spun, unfounded opinions would be made, privacy from paparazzi would be at a premium. at the end of the day, michael wanted to protect you. and if that having next-to-no one know about your relationship, so be it.

you stopped right before him, leaning your whole body weight against him, your arms tightly wrapped around him. at the suddenness of your movement, michael hummed amusedly. his arms found themselves around your waist once more. though the sequins felt scratchy against your face, you didn't dare move, feeling so at peace with the small circles he drew against your back.

"baby, you should get dressed. we have to be there soon and bill's waiting downstairs for us." the vibration of michael's voice rattled your spine, sparking goosebumps all over your body.

"yeah, i know." you placed one last kiss on his cheek before pulling away and grabbing your dress off its hanger.

as you fidgeted with the zipper on back of the dress, you looked at michael through the mirror and said, "you gonna leave so i can get dressed?"

in response, he stepped backwards, furthering himself into the bathroom. he didn't match your gaze through the large mirror, he stared at you directly. "wasn't planning on it." a smug smile appeared on his face. he was proud of himself for that one.

butterflies spiralled in your stomach that felt like electricity. with a concerted effort, you hid how turned on you were. it's not that you wanted to, it was just that you knew that you were already on the verge of making the michael jackson late for a special event.

"well turn around at least."

"i've seen you naked before," he said with a matter-of-fact tone. you pretended not to notice how he looked you up and down as he spoke.

"would you just-" you said while swatting your hand at him.

"there's that blush again," michael said as his eyes quickly scanned the room, unsure of where to stand given how many mirrors there were. he opened his mouth as if to say something else before making up his mind on what to do. you just stood there, watching him through the mirror as he decided to step into the shower (facing the back wall) and pulled the curtain closed behind him in one swift motion.

"you're such a drama queen," you laughed. his goofy behaviour behind closed doors was one of your absolute favourite things about him.

"i better stay in here before you start undressing and i start changing my mind about going to this charity event." you could practically hear the smile on his face. you started to breathe a little harder as you pulled the tight fabric up onto your body. you could hear from behind the curtain that michael had begun to hum a tune you didn't recognize. rather than comment on it, you smiled to yourself and continued on.

"alright, freaky. can you come zip me up?" your sentence was barely over when the shower curtain was ripped open loudly.

when michael's eyes caught onto your body, he stood frozen for a moment, drinking you in. when his eyes flickered to your face, your smile broke him out of his trance and he made his way over to you.

his warm fingers grazed over your skin so lightly you weren't even sure it happened. a jolt of electricity shot up your spine as michael tilted his head down to your ear and whispered, "you're the most beautiful woman i've ever seen." his lips brushed the top of your ear as he spoke.

his right hand grasped the zipper and pulled it up at a painfully slow pace. meanwhile, the backside of his left fingers delicately trailed across your exposed collar bone, down the front of your shoulder, then your bicep... elbow... forearm. as michael's hands moved in opposite directions, he planted small kisses behind your right ear, down your neck and across the top of your shoulder.

when his fingers reached your wrist, you realized the sound of the zipper was gone, indicating he must've finished. you didn't move, you didn't say anything.

with fingers curled around your wrist, he pulled gently, prompting you to turn around and face him. his grip remained as his other hand snaked over your hip and around to your lower back.

"you better behave tonight." your voice barely above a whisper. you wanted to reach up and scrunch the shirt below his jacket to pull him closer to you, but you knew better than you mess up your hard work.

michael didn't even say anything. he just tangled his fingers into your hair, his palm cupping your jaw while his thumb drew abstract shapes against your cheekbone. instinctively, you tilted your head in an attempt to close the gap between your lips and his.

like the tease you knew him to sometimes be, he pulled away by a millimeter, just enough to maintain the gap between you two.

"i'll try my best," he matched the whisper of your voice. his eyes starred deeply into yours, a smirk growing once more as he observed the effect he had on you.

eventually, the two of you made your way to the black suv where you met up with bill. he had organized for you to meet him at the back entrance of the hotel so as to avoid too many prying eyes. after all, it was a private event with less than 100 people, so the less that knew about your attendance the better.

when bill propped the door open, michael stepped behind you to let you in first. bill extended his hand out to you and with his signature tight-lipped smile said, "you look great, y/n."

"you're very kind," you said as you took his hand and stepped into the suv. "thank you, bill."

with each new york city block that was passed, michael's leg began to bounce impatiently. in silent notice, you placed your hand atop his thigh. the motion stopped instantaneously while he looked over at you over the rim of his aviators. for only a moment, you saw nervousness in his eyes. even after all this time it still surprised you that michael was nervous about doing certain things. he was such a brave man in your eyes.

you shot him a reassuring smile and nod, which he returned. michael then looked away to watch with curious eyes at all the sky scrapers that towered over the car. when you directed your attention forward once more, you caught bill's eyes in the rear view mirror. turned out he'd just seen that whole interaction happen. there was an unreadable expression in his eyes. you figured it was something between pride and relief.

despite what you'd heard about new york traffic, the car arrived at the event centre before you knew it. the mansion hosting the party was so big you couldn't even fathom how one person lived there. it could've easily been an office for a small company.

thankfully the gates sheltering the mansion from the public were far enough away that even zoom lenses wouldn't be able to identify you through all the thick flora. this made you feel more comfortable in taking the arm that michael offered out to you to help you up the multitude of marble front steps. you could actually feel the difference in how his tense shoulders relaxed with your touch. he considered you genuinely magical for that power.

"you doing ok, michael?" you asked with a soft voice.

"mmhm," was all he said.

walking ahead of you and at the top of the stairs were a couple of celebrities you'd seen on tv. though you knew that working for a celebrity (much less dating one) would mean you'd come into contact with some high status individuals, you didn't really think you'd see some of the people you'd idolized on screen as a kid.

"we should go say hi. make our rounds, y'know?" he said as you approached the top of the stairs. the giant wood doors were open, showing a bunch of people you recognized inside. you suddenly felt overcome by nervousness. even with your arm tucked into his, surely people would've raised some eyebrows. as that thought popped into your mind, you pulled your arm away from michael's and tried to subtly smooth out your dress with your hands.

as michael stepped inside, people's heads begun to turn. some came up to him to greet him, while others invited him to come drink with them. with michael caught up in greeting people, you took the opportunity to stray from his pace and meet up with bill who was a few steps behind.

"let's let him do his thing. we can go get a drink," bill suggested. he placed a hand on your back and guided you to the back of the room as if he'd been there a million times.

the drinks, of course, were free. which you suddenly realized was about to be a problem if you had to deal with the sight in front of you all night. michael was swarmed by a dozen young women, all clad in dresses fresh off the runway. they all flashed their eyelashes at him, touching his arms, laughing at something you were sure wasn't even remotely close to a joke.

"he's a real ladies man, huh?" you commented sarcastically. you couldn't help but feel jealous at how comfortable those girls felt around him.

"yeah... but he's only one lady's man," bill said, nudging your shoulder with his.

you took a sip to hid the smile on your face from bill's comment. with the refreshing taste of champagne now in your mouth, you said, "was that your attempt at a dad joke, bill?"

"depends. did you think it was funny?" as you came to know bill over your time with michael, you learned that he was very good at making people feel comfortable and relaxed. a skill that was in use frequently when around michael.

staring back at the piranhas still circling michael, you nodded in contemplation. "i really wish we didn't have to do this. i know he perpetuates it to protect us, but sometimes i wish he wouldn't bring me to these so i didn't have to see all of this. just makes me feel awful."

bill made a sound of understanding. it stayed silent for a moment. the only sound around was the music blaring on the dance floor and the chatter from the people around you. once you'd had enough time to look around the room, noticing everyone and everything going on, bill spoke. "do you know how much he talks about you?"

you looked at him and shook your head.

"he won't shut up. sometimes when he hasn't seen you in a while he'll start telling me stories about you. and of course, i've heard them all before, but i think he does it just to prove that he remembers."

you smiled, imagining him recounting all his favourite memories. "really?" bill nodded. "i never expected any of this to happen when he hired me to be his stylist."

"why not? for one, your work speaks for itself. and for two, behind all that work is an even more spectacular woman. michael's always loved creative and talented people. and based on what he's told me, you see the man behind the records. you treat him like a real person. that's all he's ever wanted. you always know what to say to him, make him feel better, give him encouragement.

"he goes to all this trouble because he really cares about you. and i know he'd rather give it all up than let the media tear you down the way they did to him. he's a smart man. you just gotta trust him."

you thanked bill and hugged him with gratitude.

the music began to pick up as an open invitation to the dance floor. you immediately recognized the tune as a song that michael had recently shown to you as one of his new favourites. with a smile, you started scanning the room, trying to find him if only to tell him with your eyes that it was his song. the smile began to fall as you realized you couldn't see him anywhere.

just as panic started to rise in you, you felt a hand tap your shoulder.

"michael!" you exclaimed with relief. "i was looking for you. they're playing your song!" your thumb jabbed over your shoulder to the dj.

"well, i need someone to dance with, don't i?" he tilted his chin down seductively.

"maybe not right now. better let people get drunk enough so they don't remember what they saw." you emphasized the sentence with a sip of champagne.

"soon enough then." michael said, draping his arm around your shoulder, squeezing you into a hug. you couldn't help but giggle and place a hand on his chest.

of course, that was the moment that a young, blonde actress decided to interrrupt.

"michael, you haven't introduced me to this gorgeous girl yet!" you knew she was no where near close enough to michael to be making such statements. this was a power move.

her eyes smile said 'welcoming and kind', but her eyes said 'back off'. a trained actress, to be sure. you cleared your throat and steadied yourself with a sharp inhale. "i'm y/n y/n. i'm michael's stylist."

"ah, so you're responsible for making him look so sexy tonight," she said, placing her hand on his chest, right where you just had.

michael laughed uncomfortably, wiggling enough to get her hands off him.

"mmhm," your response was accompanied with a tight-lipped smile.

"he looked real cozy with you when i came in... makes me think there's something more. maybe someone has a little crush." the actress elbowed michael's side.

"i'd be flattered if that were true, but we're just..." your sentence came to a screeching halt at the realization that you and michael never discussed how to divert attention when people started to assume things about your relationship. you had to improvise and fast. you settled on: "just good friends."

your eyes flicked at michael and saw that he flashed you a reassuring smile. he thought your response was perfect.

"well that's good news. means i can steal him for a dance without someone wanting to off my head." she didn't even finish her sentence before she had grabbed michael's hand and whisked him off into the thunderous music.

"bill, in another universe i'd have much less tolerance and restraint." your fingers tapped rhythmically against the stem of the glass.

he laughed.

you watched as the actress cozied herself against michael. she had turned to press her back against michael's chest. her eyes were closed in pleasure as she swayed from side to side. michael kept up with her, just enough for her not to freak out over his lack of enthusiasm. as the song swelled into its chorus, michael continued the motion while introducing a slight rotation. with her eyes still closed, she'd never even notice that they were spinning.

after they stopped spinning you realized that michael was doing it so that he could look at you while still dancing. he could tell the very moment when you realized what he was doing; he saw it in your eyes.

a devilish smirk grew on michael as his hands cupped her hips, securing them against his. they swayed and swayed and swayed. the actress, at the will of her intoxication by alcohol, the music, and/or michael's attention, threw her hips back, grinding against michael's lap. ordinarily, you knew him to be far too shy to engage in such behaviours in a public space. but now, one hand was reaching across to rest on the front of her thigh, his other placed on her lower stomach.

with a sharp inhale she tossed her head back so it rested against the top of michael's shoulder, her jaw agape. that was a feeling you understood, having experienced many times (and often, many times in the same day). it was simply the effect michael's touch had on people. his gentle but firm grip could turn anyone into putty. as memories of michael's touch flashed through your mind like a film reel, goosebumps grew on every spot his hands frequented. your stomach, your hips, your thighs, your shoulders. you felt like you were on fire.

then... you watched with searing eyes and burning jealousy as he tilted his head down and kissed her neck. his gaze was locked on you, never dropping or blinking even once. you had to bite your lip to distract you from the throbbing you felt between your legs.

the actress finally came to and spun within michael's hands to face him. her arms draped over his shoulders, one hand fondling his growing curls. she leaned in to whisper something in his ear that made michael chuckle. the song seemed to continue forever and your patience was wearing thin. taking a quick survey of the room, you noticed that most others at the event had become aware of the red-hot passion growing in the centre of the dance floor.

they had their fun, but you decided enough was enough. with eyes locked on the couple, you marched through the crowd until you came face to face with them.

"michael, can i steal you for a moment." your voice was dripping with venom.

"michael and i-" the actress's head snapped towards you, her eyes shooting daggers at your interruption.

"that's nice," you cut her off and grabbed michael's wrist, dragging him out of the crowd and back towards bill.

"who are you and what have you done with my girlfriend?" michael wasn't upset. in fact he was amused.

you realized what you'd just done and ran your hands over the side of your head. "i'm sorry, i just couldn't take it anymore."

bill, the ever-aware person he was, stepped in front of you two, sheltering you from curious eyes.

"take what, baby?" michael took your hands into his, genuine concern replacing his amusement. he'd never seen you in this state before.

"first off, she was far too comfortable with you. out there dancing like that in front of everyone, as if that wasn't the first time she's ever met you. and then the way you were touching her," you shook your head. "you only touch me like that... and now she gets the same treatment?"

"i was doing that to show you how i'm gonna touch you when we eventually tell the world about us. it had nothing to do with her, i don't even know what her name is," he shooed a hand in the actresses general direction. "i wanna love you out loud for the world to see, but until we're ready for that, this is what we gotta settle for."

"i don't-" you took a breath to come back to reality. he was right and you knew it. "i don't know what came over me. i've never gotten that jealous before in my life."

"let's go home." michael tapped bill on the shoulder and informed him of the change in plans.

"but wait, you're gonna leave this party? we just got here." you were excited at the thought of having a relaxing night at the hotel with michael, but you didn't want to steal him away from his celebrity duties.

"i've made a generous donation, said hi to everyone i need to. my appearance has been made. now let's go home." that smirk made a reappearance as he grabbed your hand and placed it inside the crook of his arm.

michael must've noticed your head frantically looking around, clearly nervous about the number of eyes that saw you leaving arm in arm. "head up, baby. let them wonder."

"who are you and what have you done with my boyfriend?" you turned the phrase back on him, surprised by the sudden bravado that took over michael.

he just laughed as he slid his dark aviators over his eyes. you and michael became a ball of giggles as you walked down the front steps and into the car. you saw bill in the rear view mirror shake his head at the young love blossoming behind him.

by the time the hotel door shut behind you two, you were doubled over in stomach pain from laughing so hard.

"ahhh," michael sighed as he dropped the jacket off his shoulders and fell backwards onto the king size bed behind him. "y/n, i'm so happy we left that event. this is so much more fun."

"ugh! don't ruin the jacket! it's too expensive for the floor." you began to bend down to grab the jacket, but due to the restriction of the tight velvet fabric around your body, you weren't able to reach as far down as you needed to.

the bed squeaked and you saw from the corner of your eye as michael noticed your struggle and came to help. he grabbed the jacket off the floor and quickly hung it up in the tall closet by the front door.

"does it look ok?" you were a little concerned about the state of the jacket that you had worked so hard to design. but then again, you felt the same about every outfit you coordinated for michael. all of your outfits felt like a work of art, like your children. saying you were proud of your work was an understatement.

"baby, it's fine. we were out for a couple hours, it's not like i drag it through tar." though michael was glad you cared about your work so much, the same level of care he had about his music, he wished you'd stop letting it control your life as much as it did. the latter of that sentence was easier for him to say than do himself.

you sighed, knowing he was right. with a satisfying kick, you discarded your heels and squealed with excitement as you sprawled out on the freshly pressed linen of the bed. though michael was now rid of the jacket that you thought he looked stunning in, somehow in just a plain white t-shirt and slacks he looked even better yet.

beside you, you felt the mattress sink as michael laid down facing you. "did i tell you how beautiful you looked tonight?" he adopted a sultry tone that you knew had a history of ending in trouble between you and michael.

rolling onto your side, your head propped up on your palm, you stared back at your boyfriend, who now had a tired look in his eyes. "mmm, i think you said it a couple times," you tapped your chin, feigning contemplation. "but it wouldn't hurt to tell me one more time."

michael scooted closer to you and ran his hand up and down over your waist and hip in slow stokes. after the third stroke down your hip, his fingers curled around yours. he pulled your hand to his lips, and placed a gentle kiss without breaking eye contact. "you look like an angel that came down from heaven. i don't know what i did to deserve such a talented," he kissed your wrist, "smart," then your forearm, "funny," then your bicep, "kind," then your collarbone, "understanding," then your neck, "gorgeous..." his lips hovered a centimeter apart from yours. your skin crawled in anticipation. you needed him bad. "lady in my life. i'm so lucky to have you, y/n."

"kiss me already-" you started.

as if unlocking the magic words, michael's lips crashed against yours. it was both greedy and gentle, in a way that only michael knew how to do. out of pure relief, you sighed into the kiss. your hands found themselves tangled into the hair at the base of his head.

his tongue pressed at your lips, begging for entrance. in one swift motion, your lips parted and tilted your head back to allow him deeper access. his tongue snaked carefully around your mouth. it was as if michael needed to memorize the structure of your mouth by touch alone.

michael's hands worked magic into your skin, every inch he touched made your skin feel like it was on fire. with a final firm squeeze on your hip, his grip loosened and slid his hand up towards your jaw. his hands were so big that his thumb could tug gently on your chin while his ring and pinky fingers swirled circles into your hair just behind your ear.

you understood very early on in your relationship with michael that he was relatively inexperienced and shy in this realm. and in an attempt to ensure his comfortability throughout this new exploration, you let him control the pace.

and he did just that. he pressed down on your hip to force you flat against the mattress. with both hands now free, you explored his torso with tender hands. even through the shirt you could feel his toned muscles, developed from hundreds of hours of rehearsing and performing.

as much as michael enjoyed your wandering hands, as indicated by moans that escaped him, his disposition to being ticklish impeded his ability to enjoy the experience. the way he squirmed under your touch only made you need him more. though his effect on you was undeniable, his response made you certain you had the same effect on him.

his hands tightly gripped on your face and hip, yours up and down his arms and back, lips still moving in perfect synchronization. with michael's legs straddling one of yours, you felt his hips begin to roll into you instinctively. with each thrust you felt a bulge grow against your thigh. the pace of your breath picked up out of both shock and desire.

michael's lips pulled away from yours, just barely enough for him to say, "you ok?"

it took you a moment to find your voice, but when you did, you said, "mmhm. you?"

he nodded, and pressed another kiss to your teple before resting hs forehead against yours. "with you? always." you smiled at his sappiness. "but we have to be up early for my interview tomorrow. i think we should head to bed."

once michael heard your sound of agreement, he kissed your forehead again and pushed himself off the bed. you smiled to yourself when you saw the prevalent print on the front of michael's trousers, confirming your earlier suspicions. as he walked towards the bathroom he continued to adjust his pants, looking for an ounce of relief.

the door clicked closed and you stood up to replace the dress with something more comfortable. with the dress hung up in the closet right behind michael's jacket, you rummaged through michael's suitcase to find a spare of his classic white tees.

after tugging it over your body and opting to sleep in just your underwear, you snuggled into the king size bed. the plushness of the mattress felt like a cloud as it cupped and cradled your body. you laid still to appreciate your new found comfort. in that moment you noticed how the familiar scent of michael's was released from the shirt.

you pulled the fabric up to your nose and inhaled deeply. the subsequent dopamine release felt comparable to a hit of cocaine (or so you imagined). you giggled quietly to yourself, so beyond happy with this life you ended up with.

it wasn't until michael joined you under the covers with his arms securing you against him that you noticed just how tired you were.

"i'm glad today's over. i've been looking forward to this all day," you said with a smile.

"me too. i'll take a quiet night with my baby over a flashy pr event any night."

"speaking of that event though. we gotta do something about that touchy and entitled girl."

"oh yeah?"

"if i can't dance with you then no one can!" you harrumphed.

michael chuckled at your theatrics. "i think it's only fair."

you huffed a dramatic sigh, despite the smile on your face.

"i forgot to mention earlier that i really liked that phrase you used about us."

"which one?" with all the jealousy and anger, specifics of your encounter with the actress had faded.

"just good friends. it's got a nice ring to it." you could practically hear the gears turning in michael's head.

"well, i just figured it fit. we were close friends before we became anything more and it quells any suspicion." your eyes fluttered shut as your tiredness caught up to you.

"you're right. it works for now." michael's voice progressively got quieter. you swore you heard michael add on, "but not forever." though you'd never be sure as you drifted off into your dreamworld.

[invincibledc]

#HIS SWEET BUNNY

M. JACKSON X BUNNY!READER

His sweet lil' bunny who doesn’t have a care in the world

bunny!reader who just wants to sleep in Micheal’s room whenever he’s off to tour. Sleeping on his bed just brings comfort for her.

bunny!reader who loves to be in the studio with him, listening to him sing and work on his projects. Sitting on his lap while he drums against her thighs.

bunny!reader who literally gets princess treatment every single day, and she knows Michael spoils her rotten too. He knows also.

bunny!reader who just wants Michael’s attention all go her self. Giving small kisses on his nose and cheek. Maybe even lower before Michael gets a little shy and scolds her.

bunny!reader who will literally stuff her face with exotic food on tours Michael takes her on. Michael can’t help but laugh while trying to copy her. You both end up looking like hamsters.

bunny!reader who likes to play with Michaels hair, but only gently. Put it in small bun or ponytail.

bunny!reader who sometimes will just sleep for a long time. Even the other management of Michael get concerned by how Michael’s sweet bunny princess can sleep for 12 hour without a light small wake up.

bunny!reader who gets called “bad bunny” if she’s actually being stubborn and bratty. As if Michael won’t pin you to the wall and kiss the attitude 

bunny!reader who has special lace outfits from lingerie to common clothes.

bunny!reader who goes swimming at random hours. She doesn’t even know why she does it. Michael calls it some kinda ritual and joins you before being scolded by you tonight rest up.

bunny!reader who doesn’t care about how clingy Michael gets. She’ll literally baby him if she could, giving him the same treatment he gives her. Although not really but being comforted if tours are too stressful.

bunny!reader who will absolutely walk away from anyone that isn’t Michael that’s trying to talk to her. Not her man, not her problem.

bunny!reader who would just play with Michael’s face, helping him with makeup sometimes and then randomly playing with his face with blush and mascara. Michael is enjoying his time.

bunny!reader who dislikes anyone that’s not her man, bill or the animals aka bubbles.

bunny!reader who likes to draw random things on stinky notes in the studio while Michael is writing his ideas. Just so she can feel apart of his work environment.

bunny!reader who will have multiple bodyguards surrounding or in close distance if she’s out in public.

bunny!reader who loves giving bubbles snacks and sharing a bowl of fruits.

bunny!reader who hates any interview that takes too long.

bunny!reader who will ask Michael for his card to go shopping. She’s ready to spend a ‘few’ on perfumes, lip gloss, and heels.

bunny!reader who just wants to be by her man’s side no matter what happens or not.

[invincibledc]

#APPLE JUICE

M. JACKSON X READER

Is apple juice better than orange juice?

Sipping apple juice, you twisted yourself in a rolling chair that Michael had gotten for you whenever he was working on his projects. You always couldn’t help but be bored easily, so what’s even better than rolling or spinning in your little designed chair.

You spun around as Michael hummed a song he just wrote. Without looking, he grabbed his glass of orange juice, suddenly you just thought of something.

“Michael?”

Your tone of voice immediately brought his attention, his eyes moving to you with his body as he looked attentively whilst sipping his juice.

“Your nickname is ‘Apple head’ yet you drink orange juice as if your life depends on it… isn’t Apple juice better though?” You questioned, you weren’t even trying to be stupid. It was a genuine question for you, and Michael seems interested in it.

“I like Apple juice, i just prefer orange juice more.” He said simply, his tone soft as he puts his glass down. “I just prefer orange juice more, it’s more nutritious.”

You gave him a look before taking a slow, dramatic, loud sip of your juice box filled with Apple happiness. “Well sorry to burst your bubble, but Apple juice is 100% better.”

Michael narrowed his eyes, playful as he pointed to you. “Well if you keep drinking apple juice, you’ll turn more into an apple head than me.” His soft tone made his words even sassier.

“Oh, I seeee…. You just can’t handle the truth that apple juice is superior.” You said, leaning into the comfy chair you sat on.

Michael gasped and put a hand to his chest. “I’m not.”

“You are.”

“Am not!”

“You are!”

You both went back and forth, neither taking this debate seriously. Michael was smiling widely, but you were holding back a few chuckles.

After a beat of silence, you laughed whilst Michael smiled at the sound of your laughter, you both bring out each other’s inner child.

Finishing your juice box, you threw it away, not even noticing that Michael was now distracted from his music, no longer needing to listen to it.

Cause your laughter was the only music he wanted to listen to forever.

[invincibledc]

#BIG SIS GENERAL

YOUNG!MICHAEL JACKSON X OLDER SISTER!READER

when the third oldest sister doesn’t play about her baby bro. 

Tw: mentions of Diana Ross

What’s worse than a daughter who’s called a shame to the family? A daughter who doesn’t give two shits.

You, y/n Jackson, are the third-oldest sister to Janet, Randy, Marlon, and Michael. But the youngest among the others.

You were quite the handful, especially to Joe, who tried to be aggressive and scare you.

And what did you do? You talked back.

He tried to scare you; he tried to intimidate.

When he tried to put his hands on you, you hit him, which shocked him and most of your siblings. But one brother looked at you with such amusement.

Michael.

And how did it come to you to hit him?

It came from when he was forcing you to dance and sing, you were forced to wake up at 5 am, along with your brothers, who were about to go to another bar for their performance.

Your curly Afro was messy, and your eyes were heavy with sleep. You complained, and when you complain, you don’t stop til you get what you want.

Joe had had enough and sat up quickly, which startled Michael.

He raised his hand ready to hit you, and you moved back and then raised your hand and smacked him across his face.

Joe gave up on trying to make you work like the others. Meanwhile, Michael was the star of the family, working 9 to 5 at the age of a kindergartener.

You would’ve been in your room listening to some soul music before Michael bussed in your room with a bright smile.

“Y/n!” He exclaimed with that smile that made you relax further into your bed.

“Yes, Mike?” You called out softly, and he jumped onto your bed and brought out his favorite book.

“Can you read this to me?” Michael’s eyes were a little weary, scared of your reaction. He knew you usually say no to some of the things that are asked, except for your mother or your other favorite brother.

But you could only chuckle and boop Michael on his nose.

“Sure, Mike. Cmere.” You grabbed the book he wanted you to read for him. Michael’s weary look melted away, but pure fear before excitement as he scooted over to you.

And that made the bond between you two closer.

If you were in a room, he’d be there. If you were to leave cause you didn't find anything interesting, he’d walk after you after a few minutes.

Jackie called you “big sis general” one time. Funny, but it was true to how you strictly ran things.

When Michael was getting older, you started to realize how crazy people were for him.

Especially one old hag that seemed to hate your every living being , since Michael looked at you with pure admiration as his big sister.

You did have a small singing career, one that you did by yourself and had your own management with people you trust.

So imagine how you felt when Diana Ross ignored you and walked past you during an interview called “the two biggest women of music”. You held back every curse word right there. But she sure didn’t ignore Michael, who looked nervous but flustered by Diana. Michael was young, and she’s old, trying to flirt with your baby brother?

“Oh, so that’s how the bitch wanna play?” You thought before a smile crossed your face.

It’s after the interview that you cornered her in her dressing room. You were leaning up against her door as she was doing her makeup. She didn’t notice you at first before you started talking.

You smiled at Diana with a nice smile, “Hello, Diana.” You said in that tone as she stiffened before looking at you with a forced smile on her face.

“Hello… y/n.” She said, looking at you with hatred in her eyes. And your voice was the same; the only difference was that you held it more composed.

“You see, Diana. I’ve been noticing how you’re acting weird around Michael. And if I catch you bein’ weird to my baby brother.” You stepped close to her. “I may have to beat your ass.” You stepped back, turning your back as your slicked back curls bounced with each strut as you exited.

That’s all you said before leaving with Michael, following you from afar, clearly oblivious to what his older sister did.

No one tries anything with your little brother.

@queenkia3200

[ghulify]

being mature!michael's controversially young girlfriend ❤︎ minors dni

mature!michael that shows you off in any way he can. takes you to big galas, introduces you to important people you could only see on the head pages of the magazines, invites you on stage during his acceptance speeches. he prides himself in being your boyfriend and doesn't hide how he truly feels about you — and you don't either. you don't ever hesitate to kiss him in front of the cameras, performative but real at the same time, letting everyone know that you're his and he is yours.

mature!michael that has his arm wrapped around you at all times. he claims you that way, a silent, possessive gesture that sends a clear message: stay away.

mature!michael that spoils you to the limit — takes you to shopping malls (with his bodyguards staying right behind you the whole time) and lets you pick whatever you want, complimenting you as you try yet another dress on. bonus points if you ask for his opinion on a set of fancy, sexy lingerie. he won't let you leave that changing room for a hoooot second.

mature!michael that takes care of you each time he's close. he won't let you lift a finger — he prepares bubble baths for you, makes dinner (he's a surprisingly good cook!), washes your body in the shower after you've had a particularly hard day. he'll whisper sweet nothings into your ear as he massages the shampoo into your scalp, pressing soft kisses onto the sides of your wet face.

mature!michael that, even though he'd never admit it, gets off to your age gap. something about you, so young and innocent, giving all of your undivided attention to the man twice your age, makes that sick satisfaction bloom in his stomach.

mature!michael and his daddy kink. he'll have you bent in half, cock nudging that sweet spot deep inside you with every, perfect stroke, voice dropping to something dangerous and delicious while he talks you through it. 'feels so good to have daddy so deep inside, doesn't it, baby?', 'daddy fills you up good, huh?', 'are you gonna be a good girl for daddy?' 'daddy's gonna cum so deep inside you you'll feel me for days' while he's pressing on your stomach. on and on. that man's a beast.

mature!michael that loves fucking you in public. you might be on a gala, even a family dinner, and he'll still find a way to get into your panties. he'll love to tease you about it, too; whispering how much of a dirty girl you are for giving yourself in to him like that, letting everyone see how good he fucks you. he'll cover your mouth with his hand, too, silencing your moans and whimpers so that no one else besides him hears. if he's feeling generous, he'll stuff your mouth with his fingers so you have something to suck on while he fucks you against the wall.

mature!michael that has learned to save photos into his phone just because of the nudes you send him. he might be on an important meeting when all of a sudden his phone buzzes, and he sees the most obscene, delicious picture of you he's ever seen with a little, cute message underneath: missing you extra hard right now, daddy x. — best believe, you'll regret sending those pictures as soon as he comes home.

mature!michael that facefucks you as a punishment for disobeying him and acting like a brat in public. he'll have you with your head hanging off the side of the bed, tongue lolling out and eyes watery as he drills into your mouth, not stopping until he's had enough.

mature!michael never ever leaves you without some proper aftercare. he'll massage your back, kiss the bruises he left on your skin and shower you with attention, letting you fall into that familiar headspace. he'll cradle you in his arms until your breath evens out, only then allowing himself to sleep.

mature!michael that can't sleep unless he's by your side. he needs to feel your smaller form cuddled up against him to properly rest. best believe, he's not going anywhere without you.

mature!michael that treats you like his personal muse. he's bought a digital camera to take multiple pictures of you (some less explicit than the others). he takes them to the studio with him, looking at them while he's stuck on a certain lyrics he just can't finish — immediately feeling that surge of inspiration come over him as he sees you.

mature!michael that doesn't let you be alone for a second. he takes you everywhere with him, knowing just how much you need to be close — you're too clingy to stay away for more than an hour.

mature!michael that knew he loved you as soon as he saw you. it took longer for you to feel the same way, but you fell for him sooner or later. he fell first, but you fell faster doesn't apply to your relationship — he would hang the stars for you if you asked him to. yeah, he definitely fell faster.

fin.

[jessaerys]

hate when im reading and theres a word i dont know so i search it in the dictionary and its like: beuperer. noun. a person who beupers. i'll fucking kill you

[man-in-the-mirror58]

ꔣThe love you giveꔣ

⋘chapter 2⋙

↪︎teaser

Read chapter 1

You are a lawyer who seems to have it all figured out, but that’s the exterior, the facade everyone sees, because no one has even scratched the surface of you. He’s just the same, a monument of art and feeling misunderstood. You are forced in his orbit by your boss, who thinks what’s happening to young Michael is unfair, so he becomes your project, but he feels like so much more, but you are a professional… right?!

Pairing: Michael Jackson x fem!reader

Warning: +18 mature language, fluff

A/n: everything is fiction drawn from reality, but in the end it’s all my imagination, English is not my first language. Not proffered!!

Comment if you want to be tagged

You sit down next to Latoya who's reading a book about astrology and you murder Michael slowly as you start to lather yourself up with sun block, the rays of sun glimmering off of you, like you were a goddess brought from heaven and he has to start counting backwards from 100 to calm his ragged breathing, his hard on crying for attention in his pants. "When's your birthday y/n?" Latoya asks you, flipping a page over in her book. "August 26th 1958" you answer and Micheal's pulse quickens, three days before his own birthday.

"And Andrew's" Latoya continues and you look at her a little more than confused. "I'm reading a book about couple compatibility based on zodiac signs and birthdays, I'll calculate it for you and Andrew" Michael wants to go, grab his sisters book and shove it in the pool. You lay back and take a deep breath, crimson kissing your cheeks once more. "July 8th 1948" you whisper and Micheal spares a quick glance over at your boyfriend playing with his brothers, he would've never guessed he's 10 years older. "Uuu an older soul, Ok let's see" his little sister flips through her annoying book and you look over at your boyfriend, a weird feeling in the pit of your stomach, you can't decide what yo hope for, do you want to hear that Andrew is your soulmate or do you want to hear he's the worst partner choice. You've been with him five years now so the later was clearly far from the truth, but you also felt like if the book told you he wasn't the one, you'd feel a little more free, lately Andrew has been hinting at things like marriage and you wanted to throw up at the thought.

"It says here, the two of you are very compatible, you complete each other, it's natural for you to coexist, both  of you can retain your unique independence while interacting with each other. The relationship has a competitive orientation because there is a sense of progress and achievement. Fulfilment of desires becomes a stimulus for action, thanks to which each of you can help the other grow. Through a sequence of new beginnings, this relationship can maintain youthful freshness that stimulates both of you."

Michael wants to scream at his sister to stop, his heart shattering, but she keeps going. "It also says that the two of you have great bed chemistry, which means you two have great sex-" "Ok Latoya that's enough, don't be rude!" Janet stops her sister snatching the book from her hands and Michael couldn't be happier with Janet, seeing as he was slowly being suffocated to death while Latoya read about your sex life with a man that wasn't him. You are also very thankful for the interruption Janet offered. "It's Ok, thank you for the read!" You politely say, closing your eyes, starting to spiral on your head.

Michael sits looking at you from a far and hates the part of him, that's dying of curiosity to know if the two of you were compatible, you had to be, his heart has never done the things it does when he's around you.

Tags: @xyahx

@narratedillusions

@mjenthusiaist

@18lkpeters

[man-in-the-mirror58]

ꔣThe love you giveꔣ

⋘chapter 1⋙

You are a lawyer who seems to have it all figured out, but that’s the exterior, the facade everyone sees, because no one has even scratched the surface of you. He’s just the same, a monument of art and feeling misunderstood. You are forced in his orbit by your boss, who thinks what’s happening to young Michael is unfair, so he becomes your project, but he feels like so much more, but you are a professional… right?!

Pairing: Michael Jackson x fem!reader

Wc: 7.5k

Tags: smut 18+ minors dni (not Michael yet ), slow burn, right person wrong time, pining, fluff, abuse, depression

A/n: everything is fiction drawn from reality, but in the end it’s all my imagination, English is not my first language. Not proffered!!

Comment if you want to be tagged in the next chapter

Click click click .....

The cold smooth surface of the lighter in your hand grounds you a little, but the rhythm of your heart stays the same, galopant - fast - unsteady. You don't  smoke but everyone in the '80 does, so offering a cigarette is usually a good conversation starter. The clicking noise of the lighter is barely audible over the roar of the crowd and the thunder of music, but the pace of it matches the one of your thoughts. You run over the lines you scripted in your head, finding a better way to say what you wanted each time, cringing at the parts that feel unnatural and forced, in the end it is all about first impressions. The black fitted dress, huggs your frame perfectly, maybe a little to tight, falling just above your knees, the black shiny tights ease the path your foot draws in and out of your shoe. The jacket resting on your shoulders makes you feel way too hot making the hairs on the back of your neck adhere to the skin, the air is stifling, with one hand you try to fan a litte air to alleviate the stress, the gust of wind barely doing anything, but you guess it's still better than nothing.

It is because of your stubborn boss, Gideon Goodwill the owner of Goodwill law, that you find yourself here, backstage at one of the Jackson 5, or is it just the Jackson's now?! Anyway, you can never remember which one it is, Victory tour concerts. Gideon is a lover of fine arts and a damn good lawyer who hates when people use power and the lack of law education to exploit artists, so it's his soul project to find celebrities, actors, singers, writers, doesn't matter the type of art they make, who are being cheated by their management and save them. The latest addition to the Goodwill law clientele was Elvis Presley himself, you were the one sent to deal with him, because apparently you are extremely skilled with people and making them feel comfortable. It took a lot of convincing a sweet talk but you cracked the man and it helped of course that Elvis had had enough of the colonel's lies and manipulation. It wasn't easy getting a 53 year old man to rehab when such things as addiction and depression were still taboo topics, but he had the support of his family and friends.

Anyway your boss's newest obsession is getting Michael Jackson on his roaster. Somehow Gideon caught wind that Michael's manager and lawyer not only cheated him out of a lot of money in the Pepsi ordeal, making him settle the case, but they are currently in a very tight relationship with Joesph, sucking money out of Michael's talent, forcing him to tour with his brothers and keep promoting Pepsi, so he sent you, the saving angel, to sweet talk and plant the seed of truth, so that Michael finally sees part of what is being done to him and comes searching for you to make it right, making him believe it was his idea to leave behind his brothers and old business partners. It's a trick really, a mind game, people feel so much more at ease when they think an idea was theirs to begin with.

"Thank you, yes, thank you..." the hair on your neck prickles and the sweat suddenly feels cold as you hear the raspy voice coming your way. You slide your foot back in your shoe and fix yourself up, hoping the stress can't be read, taking a quick look in the nearby mirror making sure you look presentable enough, but you catch a glimpse of your startled face, wild eyes watching you back from the reflection. Standing in the corner of the dark room, you watch him walk in, a gait noticeable in his step, shoulders slumped forward, head hanging low, sweat adoring his tan skin, dripping from his curly hair. Michael sits down in the chair in front of the vanity, jumping when his brown eyes catch a glimpse of you in his peripheral vision. "Can I help you?" His voice is shy and a little shaken, deeper then the one you've heard on TV and in his songs, but still holding that boyish tone. Your red lips stretch across you pearly white teeth and you extend a pack of cigarettes with your left hand while playing with the lighter in your right, click click click the soft noise of the on and off filling the air. His eyes dance between your face and your hands, confusion written all over his brows as he gives a small shake, the beads of sweat glimmering in the soft light. "I don't s-smoke" he says his voice catching a little at the end, like that of a child being offered a forbidden candy, scared of the temptation. "Neither do I" you sigh and throw the lighter and cigarette pack in your purse, to be forgotten for another time you might use this trick. Crossing your hands over your chest and straightening you back you take a good look at him. He looks tired, dark circles adoring his eyes, his lips slightly shaking. You notice a light blotch on the right side of his neck, hidden by the mess of hair and you can't help but wonder what that must be. Micheal sits expecting, eyes drifting to the door, still very much confused about who you are or why you are here. "That was a nice concert." Your soft voice breaks the charged atmosphere, sounding confident enough, or so you hope, because right now your pulse is through the roof and your heart feels one beat away from stopping.

"Only nice?" The corner of his mouth twitches, while he stops a smile from forming, clear that your statement kind of insulted him all the while intriguing him. "I'm not a fan, but I guess I enjoyed just fine" you shrug trying to seem nonchalant, and while it's true, you're not a fan, only an occasional listener, the show was far form just nice. He was phenomenal. "Who are you?" Michael finally gets the courage to ask, standing up and taking a cautious step towards you, but still keeping distance, maybe he thinks you're a crazed fan who snuck through security, his eyes keep drifting to the door. "My name is y/n l/n, I represent Goodwill law, a New York based law firm that represents celebrities all across America, seeing that the best interests of the artists ar in the center of attention, I think I might be just what you need!" You lift a tentative brow, extending a business card his way. He makes the rest of the way to your hand, with unsure steps, taking the rectangular piece of paper from your fingers and toying with it. "Just what I need? And what do I need miss l/n?" Michael says as he paces the room, flipping the card in between his dexterous fingers.

Your name sounds strange out of his mouth, no one has ever made it sound like that, it's indescribable what it makes you feel, but a shiver runs down your spine and it's like a cold plunge. You don't say anything, just open your bag and grab the folder out, handing it to him. Michael tucks the card in the pocket of his black pants and takes the folder from you. Curious eyes flash over the white pages and you can physically see the cascade of feelings- confusion- realization- hurt- anger and last doubt. "What is t-this?"

"It's the non disclosure agreement your lawyer John Branca signed with the executives over at Pepsi to convince you to settle the trial faster and for less money, it says there that if he convinces you to settle and keep promoting the Pepsi brand he gets a sum of money equal to half of what you settled for"

He swallows the lines in his face tense and rigid, you can see his pulse fluttering under his dark skin. "What d-do you mean..." he asks but you can tell he knows, he understands. You sigh and hang your head low, taking a step forward to turn the page in the folder. Your red polish clad finger points to the signatures at the bottom of the page, that of John Branca and Joseph Jackson , his father was in it too. "You could've easily gotten maybe 5 times more than what you actually did, but that would've taken a longer trial, you would've had to do testimony on the stand, they should've brought a statement from your doctors and nurses."

"B-but why? I didn't even keep any of the money, I gave it all away.." he is in complete disbelief, none of it makes sense. "Yes but had you not settled, Branca wouldn't have gotten that much money and your father would've lost the money he made from you promoting Pepsi." You explain, trying to sound as soothing as possible. "Why are you showing me this?" Michael questions, now something else lacing in his tone, but you can't quite tell what, because it's a combination of anger and frustration and something else, something more. "I am here to make you an offer mr Jackson, my law firm wishes to represent you in a new trial, we could reopen the case, get you the amount you're deserving."

"I don't need more money!" He exclaims exasperated, turning around to pace the floor, folder still in hand. "You could donate it all! More money will do a lot more help, there's a lot more burn center units that could use the funds." You offer, trying to make him see reason. He's very distraught by the information you just delivered, processing it all seems to be draining him right now, so you make a conscious decision that it's enough damage done and you need to retreat. "I'm going to go now Mr Jackson, I can tell this is a lot to take in, but when you're ready to talk more about it, the address is on the card I gave you." You put your bag on your shoulder, walking to the door, skipping a second when touching the cold door nub. "It be better if you didn't tell anyone about this, good night!" And with that, your hills click on the floor of the back stage and carry you out of the concert venue, where you struggle for 30 minutes to get a cab.

The next day, the office is quiet when you walk through the door. "Morning Sharon!" You greet your friend, leaning over her desk in the lobby to smile. "There's somebody waiting for you in the office!" She whispers, no real fear written over her features, but a slight shake clear in her brow. "Who? I'm 30 minutes early and I don't have a client until 10?" The schedule is very clear in your mind, you can see it written in your agenda and no memory of early clients shows up, plus you are almost never in the office before 8, but today you had to get an early start on the day, because sitting in bed and staring at the ceiling any longer just wouldn't do. Last night was restless, no sleep found you, tossing and turning in your bed, like something was crawling under your skin making you feel uneasy, every time you closed your eyes, you saw his, expressive and serious, burning a whole in your soul. Thought drifted often back to him, how he looked like a kicked puppy, scared for the next hit, still hurting from the last all the while wiggling his tail with expectation of love.

You don't ask anymore questions seeing the look in Sharon's eyes tells you it's useless and she won't say who it is. You pause a moment at the door, composing yourself, making sure your bag sits straight on your shoulder and your blazer is straight and buttoned up. You walk in and immediately notice not one but three figures , one sitting down and the other two flanking the first. The mess of curly black hair awakens something in you, a flutter in the pit of your stomach. He turns and smiles at you, what a beautiful smile, you think, quickly discarding the fact. He looks you up and down and suddenly you feel ridiculous in your matching dark blue suit, with your flared pants and tailored jacket. "Mr Jackson" you say, voice quivering a bit. "Miss l/n"

"You know people usually make an appointment to see me and they don't really show up outside my work hours." You giggle, prying he catches on to your joking tone. He does. "Well but you are here, outside working hours, we must have had a twin thought!" Michael laughs. What a melody. You make your way to the other side of the desk, sitting down , meeting him at eye level. "How can I help?" Your eyes unintentionally flicker to the men on either side of him. "These are Bill and Sam, my security, hope you don't mind" he explains quickly as the men beside him give you a small nod. "That's Ok, I'm pretty sure I can take them down in a fight if it gets to that!" You joke and he laughs, a full pure laugh, his teeth shining in the morning light coming through the floor to ceiling tall windows. The smile that takes over your face is unstoppable and the beat your heart skips almost takes your breath away, almost. "Well let's hope, for the sake of them, it doesn't get to that" Micheal continues the jokes.

You lean back in your chair, waiting for him to start. "Could you get me off tour?" He asks and the question gives you whiplash, not expecting it. Reading your confusing, he keeps going. "Jospeh kinda forced me into it, I didn't want to do it, Thriller did great, I wanted to do a solo tour, but then he wouldn't let me. I am making a new album and I don't have the time, I'm tired all of the time, I-" his voice cuts of and he coughs trying to hide the fact that it was emotion that took his voice. He fiddles with his hands in his lap, tapping his foot on the floor with precise rhythm. He looks at you and you see HIM, not Michael Jackson the overly talented singer, him, the human. But something else is happening, he's looking at you and he sees YOU, not the sharp cut lawyer, you, the human. It feels strange, like standing naked in front of him, even though you're fully clothed. You take a moment to look him up and down, black tailored pants, shiny black loafers and a jacket closed all the way to the top, looking like that from military uniform, but dusted in sparkling glitter.

"Ok, I understand, anything else you need from me?" When the words leave your mouth the man in his right, Bill, steps forward and puts his hand on Michael's shoulder. Michael takes a deep breath, touching Bills hand, like a child needing his parents support to voice their feelings. "I want you to get me off that stage, I want you to make me untouchable by Jospeh. I also need you to fire Branca for me." His voice is quiet and unsure, but the determination in his eyes is clear. Bill gives his shoulder a squeeze and Micheal scratches the back of his neck with his left hand, his right never leaving Bill's. "You said something about reopening the Pepsi trial, I want that too, more money for the burn centers around the country wouldn't hurt!" Finally Bill lets go and goes back to his place, your eyes stay on Michael and you read him, fully read him.

"Very well, firstly, we never lie to each other, I need us to trust one another, secondly after you sing a contract with Goodwill law we can get you all of that. I can write the contract and have it ready for you to read as early as tomorrow, you are allowed to involve another lawyer to help you read through it and then we can start"

"Who's we?"

"Well we have plenty of lawyers here you can choose one of your liking of course, I was just and opening offer to say so." You explain and can't help the back flip your heart does when you see disappointment flash across his face. "Can't you be my lawyer?" Michael asks, the plea in his voice raising your pulse sky high. "I can, if you want me to, I am one of the lawyers from which you can choose-"

"Well I don't need to choose, I want you!" He doesn't let you finish and you simply nod

"Understood! Does tomorrow 9 o'clock sound good for you Mr Jackson?" Already opening the agenda to write down his name in your 9 am slot. "Y-yes miss l/n that works just fine!"

"Perfect!" You scribble it down on paper and watch him get up and head for the door, Sam opening it for him, but before he goes through it he turns and flashes you a million dollars smile. "No lying to each other ?" He asks. You stand up and grin. "I can put that in writing for you sir, I'm a woman of my word!"

He doesn't say anything more, just a quick goodbye and he's out the door, leaving you ravished and consumed.

You spend the rest of the day typing the contract for Michael, consulting with a colleague over how you should approach the Pepsi trial, then going straight to Gideon to see how you could possibly take Michael off that stage.

"He doesn't have a contract obligating him to stay up there, he just needs to say no. Tomorrow after he signs with us, you fax his father the dismissal and then Michael is free, but we have to built a contract with Michael and his record company, one that defends him from Joseph." You humm taking notes, making mental reminders of how much more serious this is than the Elvis ordeal. At the time that too seemed monumental, because he had been on the road of doom for so long, divorced, abusing drugs, stuck in Vegas doing the same show over and over again, but in the end it was so much easier, because colonel wasn't his family and their initial contract was built before hidden clauses were a thing. "His record company, Sony?" Gideon nods "Do we like them?" You ask trying to get the vibe, again this sort of thing no really your expertise. Gideon claps his hands together, fiddling with his fingers. "That you'll have to ask him, as far as it looks right now, they have given him the platform he needed, so I can't say, other artists working with Sony haven't done numbers like him so ..."

Ok that is on the list of fishy things now, definitely something to consider later. "I have everything I need for now!" You stand up, gathering the splattered pieces of paper from the desk, making a bee line for the door, the time already way over schedule. "Hei kid!" Gideon calls and you turn to look at him from the door. "You did good, you always do!"

You smile, but it doesn't quite reach your eyes. "Next time can you ask me to built a bridge out of playdough? I'm sure I'd lose way less sleep over that!" You joke and he shakes with laughter. "Sure whatever you say! You'd lose sleep over a grain of rice, but that doesn't make you less of a force of nature, I have a good feeling about this, you'll change his life kid." The conversation is over for you so you just keep on walking, hearing him laugh from behind. He's the closest thing to a mentor you have, he was your teacher in law school, back at Harvard and he picked you from the bunch at the end to do an internship at his law firm, back then it was much smaller and situated in Boston. You stuck around, like a piece of gum on the back of a chair, he used to say and he made you a full time lawyer, then he moved you and his whole office to New York and now he considered you something of a right hand. Your family situation has not been easy and he's known that, he related to you, so the father - daughter relationship solidified instantly.

"You really know how to make a man wait, but you're worth every minute baby!" You dissociated on the way out, so it takes a second for your brain to realize you're in your boyfriend's car. A smile adores your face and you give him a quick peck on the cheek, leaving red lipstick there. "Sorry baby, but hey I have good news!" You exclaim. "You caught the big fish! You got Jackson?!" He screams happy for you, leaning over the gearshift to kiss you fully and passionately, his big hands cradling you head, holding you close, like he could absorb your soul through your mouth. "I got him..." you sigh keeping your forehead against his, breathing in sink with him. "Do you think I'll be able to do this right Andrew ?" Doubt is loud in your speech and he smooths you hair, kissing your forehead, rough finger tips soothing your skin. "You'll do great!" Andrew says, peppering kisses on your neck, making you relax in his hold. "You think so?" "I know so!" He sounds so sure it almost transfers over to you, almost, because doubt and fear always linger at the edges of your neurotic brain.

"Let's get you home and celebrate, I think I know just the think to loosen you up." He smirks, turning the car on and shifting into gear to get going. With your fingers intertwined, staring out the window at the night lights, your thoughts wonder far and a new feeling blooms in the pit of your stomach, something so new and indescribable.

The next morning you wake up with the heavy figure of your boyfriend splattered across you, his scorching hot skin making you sweat. "Mhm, noooo" he mumbles, catching your waist, to hold you in place, already having felt the fact that a grand plan to leave the confines of your bed had been playing in your mind. "I have to wake up, I can't be late!" You giggle, scratching his back with your nails, earning a groan from Andrew. "Just a minute." He yawns, hands fully awake and wondering, stoping at the waist band of your panties and pushing them down, a wondering finger getting a feel of how wet you are. "Shit, baby, I love you!" Andrew moans, already placing his hard on at your entrance, the tip pushing slightly in, making you quiver with pleasure, head thrown back. "Please!" You beg and he slides right in, fitting like two puzzle pieces. "Fuuuuuck!" He holds his weight off of you, taking a moment to breathe you in, kissing up the tender flesh of you neck, teeth grazing hard enough to pull the most obscene noises from your throat. "I love you too!" You suddenly say, remembering you forgot to answer him earlier. His lips are on your now, his tongue exploring your mouth fully, taking control as he starts moving. His hips draw calculated moves, the rhythm is slow and decided, hitting just the right spots. Andrew's hands are everywhere, your neck, lips, breasts and finally your clit, drawing lazy circles on the bundle of nerves, making your velvety walls flutter around him. It feels amazing, just like every time the two of you do this, but for some reason your mind can't seem to relax and a flash of an image shows up behind your closed lids - am image of dark curly hair and the smell of musk. Your orgasm ends the fantasy before it materializes and erases the idea of it instantly.

Andrew comes with a strangled moan at the same time as you, bringing you back to earth, but a fragment of you gets stuck in whatever that flash of something was. "You're amazing!" Andrew says and stays inside you for a minute, soaking in the moment. You smile as you feel him go soft inside you and you take the time to study him, like it's the first time seeing him. You brush a few strands of hair away from his forehead, kissing the tip of his nose. "Thank you!" You say, whining when he kisses you on the lips only to then get up from the bed, leaving you empty and open to the cold morning air. "I'll start the shower!" He announces on his way to the bathroom. Outside the city is just barely getting awake, the rumbling of cars and people walking the street coming in through the window. You feel strange, excited for the early meeting you have in just a few hours, heart fluttering at the reminder of those brown eyes. "You coming?" Andrew's voice pulls you out of your fantasy and your stomach drops when you realize, what you were doing. Blinking the thoughts away, you get up and rush for the bathroom.

It's not long before your heels click-clack against the tile of the office. You walk with confidence, head high and back straight, bag swinging back and forth. Saying "hello" to Sharon, you lean into the door opening it fast, your breath catching when you focus onto the man already waiting for you. "Morning miss l/n, hope you don't mind, I got here early!" He flashes a smile that makes your knees weak and you mentally curse yourself for the way it makes you feel. "Mr Jackson, no I don't mind, I just hope you haven't been waiting long!" You smile back, walking over to your desk, nodding towards the men accompanying him once again.

"No, not long!" Michael assures you, gesturing not to worry. You open one of the drawers in your desk, taking out the folder holding the contract you wrote for him. "Here is the contract, I'll let you read over it and then I'll be back to answer any questions you may have. Can I bring you anything to drink?" You ask politely getting up from the chiar, looking him up and down, you can't help but swoon at his out fit, black leather jacket, velvet red shirt underneath (god he looks good in that crimson shade) and the signature black slacks. His hair is falling around his face like a crown, sweet curls framing his face. "Do you have orange juice?" Michael asks sweetly, almost shy. "Yes, I'll be right back!"

You want to slap yourself back into fetus stage, because why did you just say you had orange juice, when in fact you did not. "Fuuuuck!" You whine, stomping you foot. "Are you Ok? By the way sorry for not saying anything, but he asked me not to and he did bring a signed vinyl since last time he was here I mentioned my mother is a big fan!" Sharon apologizes for blindsiding you, but you don't care about that, actually it hadn't even crossed your mind to be mad at her. "I'm going to the store across the street to buy something, I'll be right back!" You announce and make a bee line for the stars, thinking the elevator might take too long.

Thankfully the line in the store is made of only two people buying small unimportant things, so it moves quickly and you're back in the building before you know it. Taking the elevator upstairs, because your heels are unbelievably uncomfortable, you tap your finger against the juice bottle. What 29 years old drinks orange juice, don't men usually drink heavy liquor or black coffee, or maybe it's just the men you knew. "Orange juice?" Sharon asks a bit confused and you simply shrug, walking back into the office.

"Sorry it took so long, how are we doing so far?" You ask taking a glass from the drink bar, placing it on the desk in front of him and pouring some juice. Your eyes wonder over his shoulder and you're surprised to see, he's actually on the very last page and a quick glance over at the clock tells you it's only been 15 minutes. "Both parties agree to never lie to each other, truth being a nonnegotiable clause of this contract" Michael reads out loud and your cheeks heat up with a blush. Sitting down you bite your lip, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. Suddenly you feel small, he looks at you in a peculiar way, his eyes lingering a bit longer than they should on certain parts, your lips, your chest and then your eyes. Chocolate eyes looking back at you, digging deep into your consciousness. "Well I did say I'll put it in writing for you didn't I?" You quirk a brow at him and it's Michael's turn to blush, but the shade of his skin offers him a sort of camouflage you don't have.

"A woman of your word I believe you said!" He throws back, grinning. "Any questions?" You ask trying to ignore the way your heart just did a backflip in your chest.

"How soon can you get me off that stage, miss l/n" your last name sounds so Devine out of his mouth, like a prayer almost, you wonder what your first name would sound like, it absurd that he has this effect on you, he's your client and you have a boyfriend that you love very much. Right? Right!

"Well, I did take the time yesterday to speak with my boss and consult with him about the matter, but I'm taking a spin of my own. I was thinking we could create the Michael Jackson brand, trade mark it and then anyone using it without a signed approval from you is legally liable. I checked the records, you don't have any written agreement with Jospeh" you didn't call him 'his dad' and he notices that, and he appreciates it, because even with all the respect he has for the man, calling him dad or father was too far from what Michael's soul felt. "So it should be pretty straightforward, after the paperwork for that is done, you can simply not show up one day and that's that." You explain and he thinks it over, a sad look crossing his features. "How long?"

"Usually a week, maybe less if I call in some favors... Mr Jackson what's wrong?" The question slips out before you can stop it, just like the move to lean towards him over the desk, almost reaching out for his hand. He jumps into the chair slightly, like your words physically shocked him. "O-Ok do it, I want you to do it!" Michael takes a pen from your pen holder, quickly sings his name on the dotted line and breathes like he just finished a round of heavy lifting.

"I should let you work now, thank you for everything miss l/n" he gets up and almost stumbles out of the chair, walking to the door very quickly. You look over at Bill and Sam, trying to understand, but they seam just as lost as you. "You're welcome!" You drop yourself back in the chair and blow some air out, laughing out loud when you notice the untouched glass of orange juice on your desk.

It's a week later when you're stuck in the office overtime, working on a pro bono case you took on, that the phone on your desk rings. It's unusual, because the working hours are done, but maybe it's Andrew wondering if you want him to pick you up. "Hello?" You ask placing the phone on your ear. "Miss l/n?" The voice immediately send shivers down your spine. "Mr Jackson!" You say his name with surprise. "You're working late, I thought office hours ended at 7 pm"

"And yet here you are calling at 9 pm" you quip, twisting your necklace around your fingers.

"And yet here you are answering" Michael sighs, his voice is muffled and somewhat drowned like he'd been crying. "I was slightly hoping you wouldn't pick up" he confesses, feeling so childish all of a sudden, he can't help being honest around you, it's not just the contract, he felt like he could tell you the truth from the second he met you.

"But I did"

"But you did!"

"What's wrong?" You ask , your pulse sounding in your ears as you listen for the silence on the other side of the call.

"Come to my show tomorrow! I'll send you vip tickets with access backstage. I need you there!" He confesses, holding his breath to see how you may respond to this confession. You've gone mute, the weight of the sentence not lost on you. "O-Ok" you mumble.

"I'm scared!" A sob goes past his lips and your heart shatters. Michael wants so bad to tell you what he's got planned, but he's scared that if he does, he won't be able to go through with it. "I get scared sometimes too" you don't ask what he's scared of, because something in you tells you that if he wanted to say he would have. "How do you deal with it?" He's hoping for a secret magic recipe that he's been denied all his life, but you don't have any. "I don't know, I just keep walking" it's so true and raw this exchange of words, you feel like you're being skinned alive and he feels just the same.

"I'll be there, Mr Jackson, I'll always be there, we're partners in crime now!" You tell him and his heart stops in his chest. Michael doesn't get to feel like this with many people, especially not women, not unless they were Janet, his sister. "Partners in crime!" He repeats, solidifying the idea in his head, a bit of a proud feeling blooming in his heart thinking that you considers him your partner in crime. "Get home safe, it's late!" He says and doesn't wait for your answer, just ends the call, going back to his spiral of despair.

You shake your head awake, like what just happened was a dream, phone still glued to your face. You dial Andrew's number and ask him to come pick you up, work was over, now all you could think about was him, but you shouldn't. The rest of the night passes through you like you’re a puppet controlled by some unseen force, grateful when your head touches the smooth surface of the pillow, but no sleep coming your way.

The vip tickets he promised, sit on your desk the next morning and you confirm with Andrew that he can come with you so you lose the next hours wondering what Michael needs you there for, what he might be scared of? The paperwork for his trademark brand was approved three days ago and you had faxed him the good news over, receiving back a short written 'thank you'. "You look afoul!" Gideon says, chewing some peanuts very loudly. "Thanks, I aim to please" you sarcastically reply, putting your documents in your map and getting ready to leave, it's only 5 pm but if you want to get to the concert on time, you had to get going. "You know , kinda selfish of you to take Andrew to the show, I'm the one you should be talking" he pouts like a child and you roll your eyes. "Grow up!"

"I'm just saying!" He pops a few more peanuts in his mouth but the smile can be seen on his lips already, he loves to tease you. "Bye boss!" You salute and go out the door, quick to haul a cab to take you home, where you find a very distraught Andrew trying to glue together some circuit part of a camera he's been working on. He does professional video and cyber security, that's actually how you met, 5 years ago when he was putting his start up on the marker he needed a lawyer to represent the firm and handle legal and since you were just starting out Gideon passed him onto you like an easy task. Five years later he's building cameras on your beautiful Persian carpet. "I'll shower and get dressed" you tell him, but he only acknowledges it by giving you an Ok, going back to melting wires.

His arms stay wrapped around you the whole concert and he sways you back and forth, sometimes one the more romantic songs peppering wet kisses on your sweaty neck. Your white cotton tee sticks to your skin and your jeans rub you in all the wrong places, but at least the tennis shoes are comfortable enough. You were enamored by Michael the whole evening and now it was towards the end of the concert, so far you were still wondering why he needed you here and what he was afraid of. Michael steps forward on stage, still beating the rhythm with his left foot, head turning from left to right, body swaying to the music. "And now I want to thank you all and say that this is our last concert, there will be no more. It's been a long 20 years, and this was our last tour, thank you, we love you!" And then just like that he goes back to singing like he didn't just ent the Jackson's. The roars of the crowd are inhuman, deafening, the ground shaking with them jumping up and down. You can tell from the looks on his brother's faces that they didn't know this was going to happen, except for one on the very right, Randy you thing is his name.

Andrew puts his mouth to your ear. "Did you know he wanted to do this?" You shake your head and before you can answer, Sam comes in your sight, walking to the vip side. You slide out of Andrew's embrace and meet him halfway. "Mr Jackson wants to se you in his dressing room." You ask of you can bring Andrew and after a quick glance his way, Sam nods and you wave Andrew over to follow you.

You are back where this all began two weeks ago, but damn it feels like a lifetime ago already. You hear the door open and then close. No one says anything, neither of you has the courage to break the heavy silence. But then his does. "Not going to offer me a cigarette this time?" Michael jokes and you laugh, god he melts instantly, his skin tingling to come closer to you, to touch you, he kinda wants to put his hand around your neck and make you laugh again just to feel the vibration against his fingertips. "Did you like the show?" It's like that first time meeting him all over again. "It was nice!"

He smirks " Only nice?"

"I'm not a fan" the repeat of the scene eases the tension in the room and he takes a step towards you, still keeping enough distance. "The end though, that really left me speechless." He shakes his head, some sweat raining out of his hair and the sudden need to brush your hands through his damp locks is so strong you almost feel it pull your arm up and towards him. "It's the craziest thing I've ever done in my life, I-" he can't keep going, he can't believe he did it, he can't believe how he walked past his brothers and the screaming Jospeh. "I wouldn't have expected anything less Mr Jackson" Michael wants to ask you to just call him by his first name, his has this idea that it would sound so much better, but maybe it's better you don't use it, because he can't tell how he'd react, he might grab you and kiss you or he might run.

"I'm proud of you!" You say and his eyes lock on the way your hand pets the back of the armchair you chose as your balance point. Michael thinks he died and went to heaven and you feel your face burn hot. "Are you tired?" You've taken over the conversation, he can't seem to be able to say anything. "Um I I yeah, sort of, sure .." he stumbles over the words and you giggle at his shyness. "I should let you rest, thank you for tonight!" You almost make a move for the door and he feels like me might crumble to pieces if you walk away. "You gave me tonight and tomorrow and the day after that. I'm finally going to have time to finish my album and I'll tour on my own, I'm free, thanks to you!"

"You got yourself there, I only did the paperwork" and you mean it, because you only did what he asked for. Another step forward and now he's at arm length. His beautiful face is glistening with sweat, almost glittering. His smell intoxicates you, musky and citrusy at the same time, with something sweet, maybe vanilla and something floral, but that one you can't name. You see his chest rise and fall with each breath and you study him up close, your eyes lingering a second too long on his lips. "I should go!" You whisper, scared of the volume of the words. Michael nods, he can't tell you to go, he simply can't.

You make the first steps for the door, walking past him, careful not to touch him. He sits there lost, looking at the ground, he can't do anything, because you work for him and you only see him as a project, at least that's what he thinks. And then your steps halt and he thinks "maybe" and hope fills him up, making him drunk.

You move your weight from one leg to the other, the cold of the doorknob against your scorching hot skin reminds you of your boyfriend waiting outside and you feel like the most horrible person ever, because you just saw yourself in your head kissing another man and you saw yourself enjoying it more than any other kiss - weird.

"Um if I could just ask-" and Micheal dies on the stop thinking you might just ask for a kiss, or maybe even a hug, he'd kill to feel you pressed against him.

"Anything!" And he means it more than you realize, because he would, in this moment, high on adrenaline, give you everything and anything.

"My boyfriend's sister is coming to the city to tour some colleges and she's a big fan, do you think you could sign something for her? If it's too much to ask-"

And he's dead, you flinch at the way he looked like you slapped him the moment the word boyfriend left your lips, you don't know why you said it, now wishing you hadn’t. You wish you could take it back, plus, Jess, Andrew's sister was a fan, but she probably could've done without his autograph.

"S-sure" he wants to cry, his eyes frantically look around the room, finding one of his T-shirts for him to change into after the show and signs it in black marker. "W-who should I make it to?" He sniffs and he hopes you can play it off as tiredness, but you don't. "Jess" your voice is shallow. Michael finishes the autograph and hands you the T-shirt, his fingers brushing yours and it's electric. You pull back and gasp, dropping the shirt on the ground. Bending down at the same time to grab it, your lips end up inches away from his and you taste his breath and you crave him, but you’re stronger than that and you get up, putting on a smile as you say goodnight and walk out the door, leaving a pieces of you with him, while taking a piece of him with you. The door closing behind you like an unbreakable barrier, on your side you meet Andrew and kiss him tenderly, showing him the gift you have for his sister and on Michael's side he's alone, all alone.