[babybeapplehead]

hiii, i’m yari, 18, black american princess 🜲ྀི

i love michael jackson and this is my space where i admire him! i write a bit too!

♪ thee #1 whatever happens enthusiast !

🍎 masterlist ♡⸝⸝

[rockmymj]

restrictions

synopsis: between your strict parents watching your every move and the chaos of the destiny tour, getting time alone with michael was non existent. you risked everything for one passionate night together.

themes: otw! era michael x non famous! gf reader, strict parents, michael comes up with a plan, virgins, virginity loss, deep kisses, fingering, p in v sex, lots and lots of praise, reassurance, aftercare, michael calls you baby.

note: i had to include randy in this but he’s literally just a side character and does nothing so presented he’s not there xx

September 1979 had a specific kind of electric pulse to it. Michael was twenty one, standing on the precipice of something massive with the release of Off the Wall just weeks prior, and currently barnstorming across America with his brothers on the Destiny Tour.

You were twenty, deeply in love, and navigating two years of a quiet, carefully guarded romance. Two full years built on stolen kisses in hallway shadows, endless late-night telephone calls, folded notes passed secretly between fingers, and sneaking tiny, quiet moments together whenever the world wasn't looking. Beyond that? Absolutely nothing.

Your parents were strict. The kind of strict that meant Michael, global superstar or not, wasn't even permitted to set foot upstairs in your house. Whenever he came over, he was expected to sit respectfully downstairs in the living room, your parents hovering somewhere nearby in the kitchen or hallway.

Your mother adored him, she loved his polite manners, his soft voice, and his gentle demeanour but that didn’t mean she trusted two young people who had been madly in love for two years to be left alone behind a closed door.

And Michael, despite his growing fame, respected their rules without complaint. But with the tour in full swing, seeing him had become almost impossible.

One evening, you were curled up on your bed, the cool telephone receiver pressed tight against your ear, tracing the coiled cord between your fingers.

Michael’s voice drifted through the line, soft, raspy, and worn down from rehearsals.

“I miss you so much, baby,” he murmured, the background noise of a bustling hotel room humming quietly behind him. “It feels like it’s been months.”

You smiled, resting your head against the pillow. “I miss you too, Michael. It’s only been three weeks, but it feels longer.”

“I really want to see you,” he said, his voice dropping an octave, heavy with genuine longing. “Not just over the phone. I need to hold your hand. I need to see your face.”

“I know,” you whispered softly. “I want to see you too. You have no idea.”

There was a brief pause on the line. You could hear him shifting on his bed, the rustle of sheets, and then a sharp intake of breath as his voice suddenly lit up.

“Come to the show.”

You laughed quietly under your breath. “What?”

“Come to the show! Come and see us play,” he urged, enthusiasm bubbling through the receiver. “Come see my brothers, see the set, see me.”

“Michael…” you started gently, ready to ground him back in reality.

“Please? Just think about it!”

“You know my parents will say no straight away,” you reminded him. “The second I bring up traveling, the door closes.”

“I know, I know,” he said quickly. “They’ll say absolutely not. But maybe… maybe not this time.”

You could practically hear the mischievous, hopeful grin in his tone. “And what makes you so confident they’ll say yes this time?”

“What if I get my mother involved?”

You sat up straight on your bed, the blanket slipping off your lap. “Your mother?”

“Yeah!” Michael said, the idea catching fire in his mind. “Mama’s back at Hayvenhurst right now, but she’s coming out to meet us on the road for the Nashville date. If I call her and ask her, she can call your mom. Mama can tell your parents that she’ll personally look after you the whole time. And LaToya’s traveling with us right now, too. She’ll be there every step of the way.”

You considered it, your heart giving a sudden, nervous flutter. “Katherine might actually be the only person on earth who could convince my mother.”

“Exactly!” Michael chuckled. “Mama has that authority. Your parents respect her.”

“And LaToya?” you teased lightly. “She’s going to chaperone me?”

“She’ll keep a hawk eye on you,” Michael insisted, laughing softly. “She’s tough when she wants to be.”

You giggled, pulling the phone closer. “That’s very reassuring.”

“I’m serious, baby,” Michael whispered, his tone turning sweet and earnest again. “Come to Nashville. September twenty first. Let me talk to Mama tonight, and then you ask your parents tomorrow. Deal?”

You smiled down at the telephone cord wrapped tightly around your index finger. “Deal.”

The following evening, you waited until the dinner dishes were cleared and washed. Your heart beat heavily against your ribs as you walked into the living room, where your parents were settled on the sofa.

You took a slow, steady breath. “Mom? Dad?”

Your mother looked up from her magazine. “Yes, sweetheart?”

“Can I ask you both something? Something serious?”

Your dad immediately lowered his newspaper, glancing over with a sharp, protective eyebrow raised. “What is it?”

You hesitated, wringing your hands together before taking the leap. “Michael has a show in Nashville on the twenty first. It’s part of the Destiny Tour with his brothers.”

Your mother’s eyes narrowed slightly. She already knew where the conversation was heading before the sentence was even finished.

“No.”

You blinked, caught off guard by the sheer speed of it. “But I haven’t even—”

“No,” she repeated firmly, folding her hands in her lap.

“Mom, please!”

“You know the answer to that question before you even ask it,” she said smoothly.

“I just want to go and see him! Just for two days!”

“No.”

“Dad, help me out here,” you appealed, turning to him.

“Listen to your mother,” your dad said calmly. “It’s out of the question.”

“But why?” you demanded, folding your arms defensively.

“Why?” your mother echoed, leaning forward. “Because you’re twenty years old, you’re talking about traveling to a completely different state by yourself to see your boyfriend, and you’re going to a massive concert venue where thousands of strangers will be rushing around. It is not safe, and it is not appropriate.”

“I’m not going to be by myself!” you interjected quickly.

Your mother raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Oh? And who, exactly, are you traveling with?”

You let out a small, triumphant breath. “Katherine. She’s flying in for the Nashville show. And LaToya will be there the entire time, too.”

Your dad looked over at your mother. Your mother looked back at him, the initial wall of refusal suddenly showing a tiny, visible crack. Katherine Jackson was a woman of unwavering faith, high standards, and undeniable dignity. If Katherine was involved, the entire context shifted.

Your mother turned back to you, her expression serious. “Is Katherine in Encino right now?”

“Yes,” you nodded quickly. “Michael said she was heading out to Nashville in a few days.”

Your mother paused, weighing her options. “I want to speak to Katherine directly. Get her on the line.”

Your heart practically did a flip. “Right now?”

“Right now.”

You hurried out to the hallway telephone, your hands trembling slightly as you dialed the Encino house. Michael had promised he’d prep his mother the night before, but your nerves were still shot.

After three rings, Katherine’s serene, warm voice answered. “Hello?”

“Mrs. Jackson? Hi, it’s me,” you said softly, breathing a sigh of relief. “I’m so sorry to bother you, but my mother was hoping to speak with you about the upcoming show in Nashville.”

“Oh, of course, sweetheart!” Katherine replied warmly, not sounding surprised at all, clearly Michael had done his homework. “Put your mother on. I’d love to talk to her.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Jackson. Here she is.”

You handed the receiver over to your mother with cold, sweaty hands and stepped back, holding your breath.

“Hello, Katherine. Yes, it’s me,” your mother began, her posture rigid as she stood by the hallway wall.

You walked back into the living room and sat nervously on the edge of the sofa, watching your mother through the doorway. You could only hear her side of the conversation, every pause feeling like an eternity.

“Yes… well, she told me she wants to go to Tennessee for the show on the twenty first…” your mother was saying, her voice measured. “And as you know, we have very strict boundary rules for our daughter… Exactly. That’s my primary concern.”

You gripped the sofa cushion tightly, watching your dad read the room quietly.

“Well… if you are going to be personally responsible for her while she’s down there, I need to know exactly what that structure looks like,” your mother said.

A long silence followed as Katherine spoke on the other end, laying out the travel arrangements, hotel details, and chaperoning. Your mother nodded slowly.

“I see.”

Another agonizing pause.

“Yes. That is acceptable.”

Your mother glanced over her shoulder, meeting your wide, anxious eyes across the room.

“Alright, Katherine. I appreciate your honesty and your grace as always. Yes, take care.”

Your mother slowly hung up the heavy black receiver. She walked back into the living room, taking her time, letting the silence stretch until you thought you might burst.

You leaned forward, unable to take it anymore. “Well? What did she say? Can I go?”

Your mother let out a long, heavy sigh, crossing her arms over her chest.

“You can go.”

Your mouth dropped wide open. “Really?!”

“Yes,” she said.

You gasped, pushing off the sofa to jump up, but your mother raised a sharp finger before you could even celebrate.

“However there are strict conditions, and if you break even one of them, you will be on the first flight home and you won't see Michael again until you're thirty.”

You nodded frantically, ready to agree to anything. “Anything! Name them!”

“First, your hotel room will be on an entirely different floor from Michael’s. You will be staying in the suite with Katherine and LaToya.”

“Done. Completely fine!”

“Second, you only see Michael during the day, in public or supervised spaces.”

“Okay!”

“Not at night. Once the concert is over and the post-show gathering finishes, you go straight back to your room with LaToya.”

“Okay, fine!”

“And third, you report back to LaToya at all times. Do you understand what that means?”

You blinked, tilting your head. “Report back?”

“Yes,” your mother declared firmly. “If you step foot out of that room, LaToya knows. If you go down to the lobby, LaToya knows. If you walk to the venue, LaToya is beside you. If you are sitting with Michael, LaToya is in the room. No exceptions.”

A massive, uncontrollable smile broke across your face, tears of excitement prickling the corners of your eyes. “Okay. I promise.”

Your mother pointed a warning finger right at your face. “I am entirely serious. No sneaking around in dark hallways.”

“I won’t!”

“No disappearing into dressing rooms alone.”

“I won’t, I promise!”

“And you remember that you are going there to support Michael, his brothers and watch their concert not to suddenly forget every single rule and boundary we’ve ever raised you with.”

“Mom, I swear, I’ll be on my absolute best behavior!”

You couldn't contain it anymore. You stepped forward and threw your arms around her neck, pulling her into a fierce, tight hug. “Thank you! Thank you so much!”

Your mother burst into a quiet laugh, chuckling as she patted your back warmly. “Alright, alright, don't squeeze me to death.”

You pulled back, beaming from ear to ear, your heart hammering with pure joy. “I’m going to see Michael!”

Your mother shook her head fondly, a faint smile touching her lips. “Yes, you are. Now go on, run along upstairs.”

You dashed up the stairs to your room, shut the door, and immediately pulled the bedside telephone onto your lap. Dialing the long distance number for Michael’s hotel room in the next city, you listened to the ring, knowing that on the other end, completely unaware that Katherine had just sealed the deal, Michael Jackson was about to receive the happiest call of his entire week.

You sat on your bed, pulling your legs up to your chest as the hotel telephone rang on the other end. Once, twice then a click.

“Hello?”

Michael’s voice was breathless, almost muffled, like he’d ducked into a quiet corner away from the noise of the television and chatter echoing in his room.

“It’s me!” you squeaked, a grin so wide it made your cheeks ache.

“Baby!” Michael gasped. His voice instantly shifted, lighting up with that pure, buoyant energy. “Did she call Mama? What did she say? Come on, tell me, don’t keep me waiting!”

“She said yes!”

“Yes?!” Michael let out a high pitched, ecstatic shout, followed by a breathless burst of giggles. “She really said yes?! Oh my god, you’re coming! I can’t believe it! You’re coming to Nashville!”

“Wait, wait, slow down, don’t celebrate yet!” you quickly interjected, gripping the plastic receiver tighter. “Michael, listen to me. There are so many rules. My mom has conditions.”

“I don’t care about conditions, you’re coming!” he cheered, clearly overflowing with relief. “Tell me. What are the rules? I can handle them.”

“Okay, the main thing is… I can’t be alone with you,” you sighed, resting your chin on your knees. “At all. My mom was so specific. My hotel room has to be on a completely different floor with Katherine and LaToya. I can only see you during the day, only in public or supervised places, absolutely no seeing you at night, and I have to report to LaToya every time I breathe.”

There was a brief pause on the line. You could almost picture him tapping his fingers against his chin, his mind working in overdrive.

“Don’t worry, baby,” Michael said softly, a quiet, confident warmth slipping into his voice. “I have a plan.”

“A plan?” you echoed, raising an eyebrow. “Michael, I’m serious. If my mom finds out we broke even one rule, she will pull me right back home.”

“We’re not gonna break her rules,” Michael assured you, his voice dropping to that gentle, reassuring whisper. “We’re just gonna work around them. As long as LaToya’s happy and Mama’s happy, your mom stays happy. Trust me. I just need you in the same city. I’ll figure out the rest, okay?”

You smiled, the nervous knot in your stomach finally loosening. “Okay. I trust you.”

“I’ll see you in a few days,” he murmured, sounding lighter than he had in weeks. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too.”

A few days later, the plane’s tires hit the tarmac in Tennessee with a loud thud, making the whole cabin rattle.

The flight out of Los Angeles with Katherine had been remarkably smooth. Sitting next to her was always a soothing experience; she spent most of the journey reading, adjusting her glasses, and checking in on you with soft, motherly smiles.

As the aircraft taxied toward the gate and passengers began retrieving their coats, Katherine gently nudged your forearm.

“Sweetheart, remember what your mother asked,” Katherine reminded you kindly. “You need to call her the second we touch down so she knows you’re safe.”

“Right! Thank you, Mrs. Jackson,” you said, quickly gathering your purse.

As soon as you stepped off the jetway into the bustling terminal, you headed straight for a bank of silver payphones while Katherine gathered the bags. You dropped a quarter into the slot and dialed home.

Your mother picked up before the second ring finished. “Hello?”

“Mom! It’s me. We just landed in Nashville.”

A loud sigh of relief blew through the earpiece. “Thank goodness. How was the flight? Is Katherine right there with you?”

“The flight was good! And yes, Mrs. Jackson is right over by baggage claim,” you assured her, leaning against the metal divider. “We’re taking a car straight to the hotel.”

“Good. Remember your promises,” your mother warned, her voice firm. “Stay with Katherine and LaToya. And call me tonight before you go to bed.”

“I will, Mom. I promise. Love you!”

“Love you too. Be careful.”

After loading the suitcases, a black town car arranged by tour management drove you and Katherine through the green, rolling hills of Tennessee toward downtown Nashville. The city felt alive with energy, bright neon concert posters for The Jacksons Destiny Tour were stapled to wooden phone poles and taped up in shop windows all down the strip.

When the car pulled up to the grand hotel entrance, security guards cleared a narrow path through a small crowd of fans waiting near the doors. You kept your head down, heart hammering against your ribs, trailing right behind Katherine into the cool, air conditioned marble lobby.

After checking in, a bellhop escorted you up to the executive suite. It was spacious, furnished in rich seventies earthy tones, gold-framed mirrors, and plush velvet armchairs.

“LaToya should be back from the soundcheck shortly,” Katherine said gracefully, setting her handbag on the entryway table and undoing her coat buttons. “Why don’t you go put your things away, sweetheart? Get yourself settled in.”

“Okay, Mrs. Jackson!”

You took the smaller bedroom off the main parlor, laying your suitcase flat across the patterned duvet. You unzipped the bag and began hanging your favorite dresses in the dark wood wardrobe, your chest tight with giddy, electric excitement.

Suddenly, a tiny, quiet knock sounded against your bedroom door.

You turned around, expecting Katherine coming to check on you. “Come in!”

The door handle turned slowly, and a slender figure slipped through the gap, instantly pressing the door shut behind him with a soft click.

It was Michael.

He was wearing a simple, tailored dark brown jacket over a vibrant, floral-patterned silk button-down shirt, his soft afro framing his face and a pair of dark sunglasses perched on his nose, which he quickly pulled off to reveal his wide, gleaming eyes.

For a fraction of a second, he just stood there, catching his breath, a radiant, nervous smile taking over his face.

“Hi,” he whispered softly, his voice trembling with sheer joy.

“Michael!” you gasped, dropping the dress in your hands straight onto the bed. “What are you—how did you get up here?!”

“I sneaked past the lobby, took the service stairs,” he giggled, stepping toward you. “I couldn’t wait. I couldn’t wait another second.”

Before you could say another word, Michael closed the distance between you in two fast strides, throwing his arms tightly around your waist and pulling you right up off your feet. You let out a breathless laugh, wrapping your arms around his neck and burying your face into the crook of his shoulder. He smelled like fresh rain, sweet hair oils, and that subtle, comforting cologne he always wore.

He lifted you effortlessly, swaying you side to side while burying his face into your neck, his chest rising and falling fast against yours.

“You’re really here,” he murmured against your skin, his voice tight with emotion, refusing to let go. “You’re actually here, baby. I missed you so much.”

You laughed softly, your fingers tangling in the short, soft curls at the nape of his neck as he finally lowered your feet back down onto the plush hotel carpet. He didn’t step away, though; his hands remained firmly planted on your waist, his dark, soulful eyes sweeping over your face like he was convincing himself you weren't just a dream built out of long-distance static.

“I still can’t believe I’m actually standing here,” you breathed out, a giddy, half-disbelieving laugh slipping from your chest. “I was so sure my mom was going to shut the whole thing down. I’ve been holding my breath since L.A.!”

Michael let out a soft, melodic laugh, his thumb gently smoothing over the fabric at your hip. “I told you! Didn't I tell you? I said, ‘Baby, just let Mama talk to her.’ Mama always knows how to ease people’s minds. She’s got that gentle way about her.”

“She really does,” you admitted, shaking your head in wonder. Then, a sudden jolt of realization hit you, and you reached down to grab his wrists, your eyes lighting up.

“Michael, the show tonight! I’m actually going to see you perform! I’ve been reading the teen magazines and listening to you talk about the Destiny Tour for months on the telephone, and now I’m going to be sitting right there in the arena!”

Michael’s face transformed instantly, a blinding, radiant grin splitting across his features.

“Oh, baby, you’re gonna love it so much,” he said, his voice dropping into an excited, fast-paced whisper. “My brothers and I have been rehearsing until our shoes are practically falling apart. We’ve got the full brass section, the lights, the glitzy outfits and we added Don’t Stop 'Til You Get Enough and Rock with You to the setlist! The energy when the beat drops on Don’t Stop… man, the whole building just shakes! I’m gonna be scanning the crowd for you the second I walk out on that stage.”

“You’re going to be under hot spotlights in front of thousands of screaming girls,” you teased, tapping his chest playfully. “You better keep your mind on your routines, Mr. Jackson. Don't go forgetting your steps.”

“I’m always looking for you,” he murmured sweetly, his playful energy softening into that intense, quiet affection that made your heart skip three beats. “No matter how many thousands of people are out there, I’m only singing to you.”

You felt a flush of heat rise up your neck, but then the memory of your late night telephone call snapped back into your head. You tilted your head, narrowing your eyes at him with a suspicious, playful slant.

“Okay, speaking of tonight… what is this mystery 'plan' you kept bragging about on the phone?”

Michael’s mouth twitched into a mischievous smirk. He bit down gently on his lower lip, a brilliant, secretive glint sparkling in his dark eyes.

“What plan?” he asked innocently, batting his eyelashes.

“Michael Joseph Jackson, do not play cute with me!” you laughed, giving his arm a gentle tug. “You explicitly told me, ‘Don’t worry baby, I have a plan’ so we could actually spend time together without my mother’s strict rules completely ruining the trip! So out with it. What are we doing?”

He shook his head slowly, stepping closer until his forehead rested lightly against yours. You could feel the warmth of his skin and the quiet, fluttery rhythm of his breathing against your lips.

“Just let it unfold, baby,” he whispered, a quiet, uncontrollable giggle bubbling up from his chest. “If I tell you right now, you’re gonna overthink every single detail. You’re gonna start worrying about what your mom said, and you’re gonna get all nervous.”

“Michael…” you warned, though you couldn’t stop the giant smile from taking over your face. “I’m serious! If LaToya catches us doing something sneaky, she’s going to report straight back to my parents in Los Angeles. You know how strict they are! I’ll be grounded until I’m thirty!”

“LaToya is in on it!” Michael declared triumphantly, pulling back just enough to flash you a proud, victorious beam. “Well… mostly in on it. I gave her strict brotherly instructions to be the most attentive, helpful chaperone in the world tonight. Which means she’s going to be very busy keeping Mama entertained and comfortable at the post show reception downstairs.”

You stared at him, utterly bewildered. “Wait a minute… what does that mean? What are you planning to do after the show ends?”

“I’m planning on taking care of my girl,” he murmured softly, leaning in to brush his lips against your cheek. “You just worry about getting dressed up, looking beautiful which you always do anyway and watching me tear that stage up tonight.”

Before you could press him for another detail, the heavy wooden front door of the main suite clicked open down the carpeted hallway, followed by the unmistakable sound of sharp high heels tapping against the foyer floor.

“Mama? Are you in here?” LaToya’s lively, polished voice echoed through the suite. “I just got back from the sound check!”

In a flash, he wrapped his arms tightly around your waist, pulling you into him and pressing a warm, lingering kiss against your lips that sent a jolt of electricity straight to your toes.

“Trust me, okay?” he whispered against your mouth, his dark eyes searching yours. “Just enjoy the show tonight. I’ll see you at the arena.”

With the effortless, lightning fast grace that only he possessed, Michael slid his dark sunglasses back over his eyes, adjusted his brown jacket, and tiptoed backward toward your bedroom door. He flashed you one last wink, slipped out into the parlor.

You smoothed down the skirt of your dress in front of the full length mirror, turning side to side to inspect every angle. It was a beautiful burgundy silk dress with fluttery cap sleeves, a neatly cinched waist, and a soft, flowing skirt that brushed just below your knees sweet enough to pass your mother’s strict standards, but stylish enough to feel grown-up for a big night out in Nashville. You brushed out your hair until it shone, applied a slick of glossy lip balm, and stepped into a pair of modest heels.

Just as you were clasping a dainty gold chain around your neck, a quick knock sounded on your bedroom door. LaToya peeked her head inside, fully glammed up, her hair perfectly styled and her makeup flawless.

Her eyes swept over you, and a warm, bright smile broke across her face.

“Oh, wow! Look at you!” LaToya exclaimed, stepping fully into the room and clasping her hands together. “You look absolutely gorgeous!”

“Thank you, LaToya,” you said, feeling a flush of heat rise to your cheeks as you smoothed the silk over your hips. “Do you think it’s okay? Not too much?”

“It’s perfect,” she assured you, coming over to give your shoulder a gentle squeeze. “Very elegant. Michael is going to completely lose his mind when he sees you tonight.”

You giggled nervously, but LaToya tilted her head, her glossy lips curving into a subtle, knowing smirk.

“You know…” LaToya murmured, leaning in a little closer and dropping her voice into a conspiratorial whisper, “he was pacing up and down the hallway earlier like a nervous cat. He pulled me into his room three different times today just to make sure I knew exactly what I was doing after the show.”

You blinked, leaning in too. “What did he tell you?”

LaToya gave a soft, raspy laugh, waving her manicured hand dismissively. “Oh, he gave me strict orders to be the best chaperone in the world. He said, ‘LaToya, you have to make sure Mama gets straight into the limousine after the show and takes the quiet hotel entrance so she can get her sleep or take her to the post show reception. Mama gets tired after travel, you know how she is.’ He was being so dramatic!” She winked at you. “He thinks he’s being so clever using Mama’s bedtime as his grand excuse. Don’t worry. I promised him I’d get Mama back to our suite and settled in so she wouldn't be looking for you. I’ve got your back.”

Before you could ask her to elaborate, Katherine’s gentle voice echoed down the hallway from the parlor. “Girls! The driver is waiting downstairs. It’s time to head to the arena!”

The arena in Nashville was an absolute madhouse. Thousands of fans swarmed the outside gates, chanting the brothers' names, waving homemade signs, and clutching vinyl copies of Destiny and Off the Wall.

Security guards swept you, Katherine, and LaToya through a private side entrance, guiding you straight down to the floor of the arena. You felt every pair of eyes on you as you walked down the center aisle, taking your seats right in the very middle of the front row, mere feet from the towering stage.

The atmosphere was electrifying, the low rumble of thousands of voices creating a vibration you could feel straight through the soles of your shoes.

Suddenly, the house lights plunged into total darkness, and the crowd let out an ear splitting roar that shook the entire building.

Spotlights slashed through the darkness in dazzling bursts of gold, blue, and purple, and the heavy brass section kicked off the opening chords. Randy, Marlon, Tito, and Jackie burst onto the stage in glittering suits, their choreography sharp, synchronised, and completely effortless.

You watched in absolute awe seeing them on television was nothing compared to the sheer, magnetic energy of their live presence. Jackie’s vocal harmonies soared over the venue, Tito was tearing up his guitar, and Randy and Marlon moved with explosive, infectious energy.

And then, the center spotlight blazed to life.

Michael stepped forward into the blinding light, and the arena practically exploded.

He was breathtaking. Dressed in a dazzling, sequined stage outfit that caught every beam of light, he commanded the entire space with pure grace and power. His performance was like nothing you had ever witnessed before in your life. Every spin was sharp, every move glided effortlessly, and his voice filled the arena with raw, beautiful passion.

While thousands of fans around you were screaming and dancing in the aisles, your eyes remained completely locked on him. And true to his word, Michael was looking for you.

During Shake Your Body, he danced his way straight to the edge of the stage, right above where you were sitting. He strutted down the catwalk, lowered his microphone, and locked eyes directly with yours. A brilliant, breathless grin broke across his face right in the middle of a lyric. He flashed you a quick, playful wink and held your gaze for three agonizingly sweet seconds before spinning on his heel and gliding seamlessly back to his brothers.

Your heart felt like it was going to burst right out of your chest. Beside you, Katherine smiled fondly and patted your knee, while LaToya nudged your shoulder with a playful laugh. "I told you!" she whispered.

When the final encore finished and the house lights came back up, security escorted the three of you backstage into the green room. The hallway was buzzing with tour managers, crew members carrying equipment cases, and security guards pacing the floor.

A minute later, the door swung open, and the brothers came filing in, towel drying their hair and laughing loudly.

“There she is!” Jackie yelled out the second he spotted you, tossing his towel over his shoulder and coming straight over to wrap you in a big, warm hug. “So glad you made it out to Tennessee!”

“You were amazing tonight, Jackie!” you beamed as he pulled back.

“Hey, little sister!” Marlon grinned, stepping up to give you a tight hug too. “Did we put on a show for you or what?”

“It was incredible! All of you were incredible!” you said, greeting Tito and Randy with warm hugs as well.

Suddenly, the crowd of brothers parted, and Michael stepped into the room. He had already changed out of his stage clothes into a comfortable knit sweater and dark trousers, his dark curls still slightly damp around his face. He caught your eye across the busy room, his gaze soft, intensely focused, and completely ignoring the chatter of the managers around him.

Katherine stepped forward, taking Michael’s hands in hers. “You did wonderful tonight, Michael. A truly beautiful performance.”

“Thanks, Mama,” Michael murmured softly, leaning down to kiss her cheek. He then flicked a quick, deliberate look toward LaToya a subtle, knowing nod of his head.

LaToya executed her part of the plan instantly. She stepped up beside Katherine, gently taking her arm.

“Mama, you look so tired,” LaToya said sweetly, her voice full of loving concern. “It’s been such a long day with the flight and the noise. Why don’t I take you back to the hotel right now in the first car so you can get into your pajamas and rest? The boys have to do their post show cool down anyway.”

Katherine patted LaToya’s hand, sighing softly with relief. “Oh, that sounds wonderful, LaToya. My head is ringing a little from those loud speakers.” Katherine turned to you with a warm smile. “Sweetheart, you come along with us back to the suite—”

“Oh, Mama, no, let her stay for just a few minutes!” LaToya chimed in smoothly, not missing a single beat. “Michael promised he’d walk her down to the tour bus with the guys to see the setup, and then the security team will drive her right back to our floor in the second car. I’ll be right upstairs waiting for her!”

Katherine looked at Michael, then at you, and finally nodded gently. “Alright. But only a few minutes, young lady. And Michael, you make sure she gets right back to our suite.”

“I will, Mama. I promise,” Michael said, his voice the picture of utter innocence.

The moment LaToya safely guided Katherine out the door toward the exit, the dutiful, innocent expression melted off Michael's face.

He didn't waste a single second. He reached out, took your hand, his warm fingers weaving tightly through yours, and pulled you toward a quiet side corridor away from his brothers and the crew.

“Come on,” he whispered against your ear, his voice low, fast, and thick with playful excitement. “We’ve got about twenty minutes before LaToya has to pretend to start looking for you. The plan starts now.”

Michael didn’t just walk down the hallway; he practically pulled you through the private maze of backstage corridors, his hand held tightly in yours.

Outside in the chilly alleyway, a silver sedan was idling with its lights dimmed. Jackie was standing by the open back door, leaning against the frame with a massive, mischievous grin on his face. Marlon and Tito were inside the front seats, chuckling quietly to themselves.

“Hurry up, lovebirds!” Jackie hissed in a loud, dramatic whisper, waving his arm frantically toward the car. “Mama’s car just pulled out two minutes ago! We gotta beat her back to the hotel, or the whole thing is blown!”

“Are you guys in on this too?!” you gasped, breathless as Michael guided you into the back seat and slid in right next to you, slamming the door shut with a soft thud.

“Of course we are!” Marlon laughed from the front seat, turning all the way around to look at you over the headrest. “You think Mike could pull off a covert operation like this all by himself? Please! We had to bribe the hotel security guard on the fifth floor just to make sure the service elevator stayed parked in the basement for us!”

“Just keep your head down when we hit the garage,” Tito added, throwing the car into drive and pulling out into the dark, quiet Nashville streets. “If LaToya sees us in the hallway, she’s gonna act totally surprised, but we still gotta make it look 100% legit for Mama.”

You turned your head to look at Michael in the dim, golden light of the passing streetlamps. He was sitting impossibly close, his broad shoulder pressed firmly against yours. A soft, breathless laugh bubbled out from deep in his chest as he took your hand in his lap, stroking your knuckles gently with his thumb.

“See? What did I tell you, baby?” he murmured, his dark eyes sparkling with quiet, triumphant pride. “I told you I had a plan. You gotta learn to trust me.”

“I do trust you,” you whispered, smiling as you rested your head against his shoulder. “I just didn’t know you had your brothers acting as your getaway drivers.”

“Hey, that’s what brothers are for!” Jackie called out from the front, winking at you in the rearview mirror.

Within ten minutes, the car slid quietly into the underground parking garage of the hotel. Jackie and Marlon flanked you both like secret service agents, rushing you down a dimly lit, carpeted service hallway and straight into a private freight elevator. When the heavy silver doors opened onto the fifth floor the hallway was dead silent, smelling faintly of clean linens and fresh carpet.

Michael quickly pulled his key from his pocket, unlocked the door to his room, slipped inside with you, and shut it, clicking the heavy deadbolt firmly into place. His brothers’ muffled laughter faded down the hall as they headed to their own rooms.

The room was quiet and dim, lit only by the warm amber glow of a single bedside lamp and the soft city lights filtering through the sheer curtains. After the deafening roar of the arena and the chaotic, high speed getaway, the sudden stillness felt thick and intoxicating.

You walked over to the edge of the large bed, turning around and smoothing down the skirt of your burgundy silk dress before sitting down on the soft mattress. You looked up at him, your heart hammering a frantic rhythm against your ribs, a playful, breathless smile touching your lips.

“Okay, Mr. Jackson,” you said softly, resting your hands in your lap, trying to keep your voice steady. “We dodged security, we tricked your brothers, and we’re sitting in your room. So… what exactly do you plan on doing now?”

Michael didn’t answer right away.

He stood near the door, slowly reaching up to unbutton his dark jacket, letting it slide off his shoulders and tossing it onto an armchair. His gaze locked onto yours dark, heavy, and intensely focused, completely stripped of all the playful teasing from earlier. The sweet, innocent pop star persona melted away, replaced by a deep, quiet heat that made your breath catch in your throat.

He took a slow, deliberate step toward the bed. Then another.

He stopped right in front of you, looking down at you for a long, sweet second. Then, slowly, he sank onto his knees on the plush carpet right between your legs. He rested his large, warm hands gently on your knees, his thumbs lightly smoothing over the silk fabric of your dress, his warm breath fanning against your skin.

“What do I plan on doing?” he whispered, his voice dropping an octave, raspy and thick with raw emotion.

He reached up, his long fingers gently framing your face, his touch so tender it made you shiver.

“I plan on doing this,” he murmured against your mouth.

Michael leaned up and pulled you down into a kiss.

It wasn't a rushed or frantic kiss, it was deep, devastatingly slow, and heavy with the ache of two long years of strict rules, stolen glances across living rooms, and agonizing distance over crackling telephone lines. His lips were impossibly soft, moving against yours with a sweet, intense hunger that made your head spin and your vision blur. A quiet, helpless gasp escaped your throat, and Michael used the moment to deepen the kiss, his tongue tracing your lips softly as a low, quiet groan vibrated in his chest.

Your fingers tangled desperately into his dark, damp afro, pulling him closer, needing to erase every inch of space between you. His hands slid from your face down to your waist, gripping you tightly, pulling your hips to the very edge of the bed until there was nowhere left to go.

When he finally broke the kiss, he didn't pull far. His forehead rested against yours, his nose gently brushing against yours as his chest heaved in fast, ragged breaths. His dark eyes were glazed, completely overflowing with love and raw desire, his thumb tracing your bottom lip which was red and swollen from his mouth.

“You have no idea,” Michael panted softly, his voice trembling as his warm hands tightened around your waist. “You have no idea how hard it’s been... sitting downstairs in your living room, staring at you, wanting to touch you like this and not being allowed to. It drove me crazy, baby. Every single day.”

You gripped his wrists tightly, your skin flushed hot, your chest rising and falling wildly as you looked down into his soft, beautiful eyes.

“Mikey…” you breathed out, your voice trembling with pure, unfiltered honesty as you rested your forehead against his. “I can’t stand it anymore... I need you so bad.”

Michael’s eyes darkened, a small, breathless smile touching his lips as he leaned back up, pressing his mouth against the sensitive skin right under your jawline.

“I’m right here, baby,” he whispered hotly against your neck, making you arch into his touch. “I’m not going anywhere.”

His lips lingered against the soft skin of your neck, kissing a warm, slow trail up to your jawline as your hands gripped his shoulders tightly. The quiet hum of the hotel room seemed to fade entirely, leaving only the sound of his heavy, uneven breathing against your ear.

Slowly, Michael’s large, warm hands slid up from your waist, his long fingers trailing over the smooth burgundy silk of your dress. You gasped softly as his hands moved lower, gathering the fabric of your skirt and gently pushing it up past your knees, his fingertips brushing against the bare skin of your thighs. The cool air of the room hit your legs, but everywhere his hands touched felt like pure heat.

Michael paused, his breath hitching in his chest. He pulled back just enough to look up at you, his dark eyes wide, dark, and filled with an intensity that made your heart hammer wildly against your ribs.

"Gosh... you're so perfect," he whispered, his voice raspy and thick with emotion. His thumb gently stroked the soft skin of your inner thigh, making a shudder run straight down your spine. "You take my breath away, baby. You really do."

You reached down, your fingers tangling into his damp curls, pulling him slightly closer. "Mikey..."

He leaned up, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your lips, then another, reassuring and impossibly sweet. He rested his cheek against your thigh for a brief second, closing his eyes as if just taking in the reality that you were finally here, before looking back up at you with complete devotion.

"We're taking this slow, okay?" he murmured gently, his voice dropping into a tender, reassuring hush as his hands smoothed over your skin. "We have all night, and I want everything to be right for you. No rushing. Just us."

You nodded, a breathless, relieved smile softening your face as you looked down into his eyes. "Okay," you whispered, leaning down to press your mouth against his. "Slow."

Michael’s fingers were trembling slightly, but his touch remained impossibly soft, reverent, and deliberate. He gently lowered the delicate lace of your panties, his movements taking their time, as if every passing second was something to be savored after two long years of waiting. The dim amber glow from the bedside lamp caught the quiet, intense devotion in his eyes, completely stripped of any lingering stage persona.

Then, with a slight nod at you he slid a long, warm finger slowly into your slick tight heat. An immediate gasp left your lips, the feeling of his finger inside of you set off a spark deep within your veins it was a feeling that you had never felt before.

His voice dropped to a soft, raspy whisper, thick with an emotion so deep it made your heart skip a beat.

“You feel so good, baby,” he murmured against your skin, his chest heaving with fast, uneven breaths.

“Is this ok?” He asked quietly as your back arched under the sheer power of his touch. Constantly checking for reassurance that he’s doing everything to make you feel good.

“Yes,” you gasped, the word barely escaping your lips before it dissolved into a soft, breathy sigh.

His hands tightened at your waist, grounding you as a tremor ran through his frame. He slipped in another finger which made your heart race even more. Every touch sent heat shooting across your skin, burning away any lingering thought until there was only him.

“Good,” he whispered, his voice velvet rough and thick with restraint.

He dipped his head lower, trailing a slow hot line of kisses down the sensitive curve of your throat whilst still pumping his two fingers slowly in and out of you, his lips were lingering over the pulse beating wildly at your collarbone.

You tangled your fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck, pulling him closer, completely lost in the rhythm of his hands and the deliberate, unhurried way he claimed every inch of you.

He paused, checking your eyes again, his gaze searching yours with a mix of ravenous desire and fierce protectiveness.

“Tell me what you want,” he demanded gently, his thumb tracing a soothing circle over your skin that made your hips instinctively tilt up to meet him.

“I want you,” you moaned breathlessly, the words tumbling out in a broken whisper as you arched into him. “I need you, Michael.”

A low, primal sound tore from his chest at the sound of his name on your lips. His composure snapped, the tight restraint he’d been holding onto shattering all at once.

“God, I’ve needed you for two years,” Michael growled against your mouth, his voice raw with a deep, aching hunger that made your heart hammer against your ribs.

You wrapped your legs around his waist instinctively, anchoring him to you, the friction of his heat sending a shudder through your entire body. He let out a ragged breath against your jaw, his grip on you unyielding as he shifted, pressing you deeper into the mattress.

“Two years of wanting to do this,” he murmured, his hands sliding up to cup your face, his dark eyes burning into yours with intoxicating intensity.

The sound of his belt hitting the floor clattered around the dark silence of the room, allowing his boxers to fall with them. He shuffled onto his knees on the bed and positioned himself in front of you, stroking his thick hard length. You immediately gulped trying to consider how the heck he’s going to fit all of his cock into you.

Michael felt your immediate tension, as he used his precum to act as lube over his length. He paused, his chest rising and falling heavily against yours as he looked down, his expression softened by a fierce, protective tenderness.

“I’m going to take it slow,” Michael murmured, his voice a low, raspy velvet against the quiet of the room. He smoothed a thumb gently across your cheekbone, his gaze searching your eyes. “If at any point you’re uncomfortable, you tell me, and I stop immediately. Got it?”

You nodded, the gesture subtle but certain as your hands smoothed over his broad shoulders, drawing him back down to you.

“Good,” he breathed, the tension in his jaw easing just a fraction as a faint, dark smile touched his lips.

True to his word, he slipped the tip of his dick slowly inside of you. He slid into you in one smooth, agonizingly careful push. A sharp gasp tore from your throat a sudden, overwhelming mix of a brief sting and raw, intense pleasure that made your hands fly to his shoulders, fingernails digging into his skin.

Michael stopped instantly. His entire body locked up above you, muscle by muscle, as he held himself completely still.

“Are you okay, baby?” he asked, his voice strained with effortless control, his eyes wide with genuine concern as he looked down at you, searching your face for any sign of distress.

“Yeah... please carry on,” you moaned, the sound breathless and soft as the initial shock melted away, replaced by a deep, aching warmth that spread through your core. You arched slightly into him, silently pleading for more.

“Alright... I’ve got you,” he breathed, letting out a heavy, shaky exhale against your cheek.

He stayed true to his promise, beginning to move with deliberate slowness. Every gentle pull and slow, steady slide was calculated to let your body adjust, his hips rolling into yours with a careful, reverent rhythm that made every nerve ending hum. He kept his weight braced on his forearms, resting his forehead against yours so you could feel the hot, ragged puff of his breath with every slow stroke.

“You’re such a good girl,” Michael rumbled low in his chest, the praise dripping from his lips like syrup. His hips maintained that slow, deliberate cadence, driving deep and even, making every sensation double in intensity. “Look at you taking me so well... God, I needed this so bad.”

He dipped down to press a hot, lingering kiss to the corner of your jaw, his forehead resting lightly against yours. Your heart was pounding, a sweet, heavy ache blooming deep in your chest as you wrapped your arms tighter around his neck.

“Are you doing okay, Michael?” you managed to whisper between short, shallow breaths, your thumb gently tracing the tense line of his jaw.

A soft, breathless laugh huffed against your neck at the question, his eyes shining with deep affection as he looked down at you.

“Better than okay,” he rasped, his eyes locking onto yours with absolute devotion. “I’m perfect. How about you, baby? Still feeling good?”

“So good,” you breathed out, matching the slow roll of his hips, and his grip tightened on your waist as a dark, satisfied grin spread across his face.

His breathing grew heavier, the heat between your bodies rising as the slow, agonizing friction began to turn into a deep, steady rhythm. He hovered above you, his muscles taut and slick with a fine sheen of sweat, his eyes dark with a burning intensity he was barely keeping in check.

“I’m going to pick up the pace a little, baby,” Michael murmured against your mouth, his voice tight and thick with restraint as he checked your face for approval. “Tell me if it’s too much.”

You didn't need to speak; your hips lifted to meet his in a clear answer.

He took the invitation immediately, his hands sliding down to frame your hips, anchoring you firmly against the mattress. The slow, reverent glides gave way to faster, deeper thrusts that sent a shockwave of intense pleasure straight up your spine. The bed creaked beneath his weight as he set a powerful, rhythmic pace, driving into you with a desperate hunger that two years of waiting had built up, yet still holding back just enough to keep you completely consumed by the feeling.

“That’s it,” he groaned, his jaw clenching as he watched the breathless pleasure undoing you beneath him. “Just like that.”

A ragged moan spilled from your lips, loud and uninhibited, echoing off the walls of the quiet room. The sound tore right through him, prompting a deep, heavy groan to vibrate from Michael’s chest into yours.

Driven by pure sensation, you instinctively lifted one leg, hooking your knee over his hip to open yourself up completely and change the angle.

Michael gasped, the sudden shift letting him sink impossibly deeper inside you.

“Ah God, yes,” he groaned, his voice breaking as his hips snapped forward, finding a rhythm that hit every sensitive spot all at once.

You threw your head back, a breathless string of moans tumbling from your throat as the pleasure doubled in intensity. Michael leaned down, burying his face in the crook of your neck, his breath hot and ragged against your skin as his own low, desperate moans mixed with yours in the warm, heavy air.

“Fuck... look at you. You feel so tight around me.”

You threw your head back, a breathless string of moans tumbling from your throat as the pleasure doubled in intensity. “Michael ..oh..”

He leaned down, burying his face in the crook of your neck, his breath hot and ragged against your skin as his own low, desperate moans mixed with yours in the warm, heavy air.

“Tell me you feel this,” he rasped against your skin, his hands gripping your hip tighter to hold you right where he wanted you. “Tell me it’s not just in my head.”

“It’s not,” you gasped out, your fingers digging into his back, pulling him closer. “It’s... it’s always been you.”

A rough, triumphant sound escaped his throat at your words, the pace picking up as he lost himself in the heat of it. “God, I love hearing you say that,” he breathed, his voice thick with emotion as he raised his head to look down at you. “Stay right here with me, baby. Don't let go.”

The sensation was almost overwhelming a sudden, dizzying rush of pure euphoria that neither of you had ever experienced before.

Michael let out a low, shuddering breath, his eyes wide as he looked down at you, visually lost in the same breathtaking high.

His hand slipped from your hip, slick with heat, and instinctively cupped the soft mound of your breast, his fingers squeezing with a firm, possessive grip as his pace picked up again. The rhythm became faster, harder, every deep strike hitting with a feverish intensity that shattered whatever control he had left.

“Oh Michael, yes!” you cried out, a high, breathless moan breaking from your throat as your hands scrambled for purchase on his biceps. “Right there don’t stop, please!”

“I’m not stopping,” he rasped, his voice raw and heavy, a deep groan tearing from his chest with every hit of his hips. “God, you’re so good... you’re breaking me, baby.”

The sheer intensity of it brought tears to the corners of your eyes not from pain, but from the raw, beautiful weight of feeling so completely connected to him. Every gasp, every collision of skin, pushed you both higher into that unshakeable, shared ecstasy.

“Mikey… I’m gonna…” you gasped out, your voice fracturing as the coil tight in your stomach snapped, sending a blinding wave of heat rushing straight through your core.

Michael’s eyes burned into yours, raw and dark with desperation. “Do it for me, baby,” he rasped against your lips, his hands digging into your hips, pinning you to the rhythm. “Let go. Give it all to me.”

That was all it took. You rode your high, a breathless, broken moan spilling from your throat as your body clamped down, tightening around him in sweet, helpless pulses of pure euphoria. The sight and sound of you shattering beneath him completely broke whatever restraint he had left.

“Fuck yes, just like that,” he groaned, his voice a shattered rumble in his chest.

With a low, primal growl, Michael buried his face in the crook of your neck and rode his own high right behind you. His hips slammed into yours in a few fast, desperate thrusts that were deeper than before locking firm against you. A low, ragged cry escaped his lips as he held you impossibly tight against the mattress, pumping his seed deep inside you, his entire frame shuddering violently with every surge of his release.

“God… you’re so good to me,” he breathed against your collarbone, his voice thick and uneven as he filled you.

He stayed buried deep, his chest heaving heavily against yours while his trembling hands slid up to cup your cheeks, his thumbs gently wiping away a stray tear of pleasure. His eyes met yours, filled with absolute devotion, leaving you both completely breathless in the warm, heavy quiet of the afterglow.

The quiet in the room was absolute, broken only by the soft, steady rhythm of Michael’s breathing as the intensity of the night settled into a calm warmth.

He stayed wrapped around you, his head resting lightly against your shoulder, trailing his fingers in tiny, tender circles over your skin. Every few moments, he would press a sweet, lingering kiss to your shoulder, your jawline, or the side of your neck, making sure you felt completely safe and taken care of.

“You okay, baby?” he whispered, his voice quiet and raspy in the dark. He raised himself up on one elbow, his dark eyes searching your face with deep concern. “Are you comfortable? Do you need some water, or another blanket?”

“I’m perfect, Michael,” you murmured, turning your head to smile up at him. “Just tired, but… in the best way.”

“Good,” he breathed, a relieved smile softening his features. He reached over to the bedside table, grabbing the glass of water he’d left there earlier and holding it out to you. “Here, take a few sips anyway.”

You sat up slightly, taking the glass from him. “Look at you, always taking care of me,” you teased gently before taking a drink and handing it back.

“Always,” he said softly, setting the glass down. He pulled you right back against his chest, tucking the heavy duvet securely around both of your shoulders. “Gosh, I just… I love you so much,” he murmured against your forehead, his arms tightening around you as if trying to hold onto the moment forever. “I don't ever want to let you go.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” you whispered, resting your hand over his chest and listening to the steady thump of his heartbeat. “We still have all of tomorrow.”

“It’s never enough time,” he sighed softly, burying his face into your hair and holding you close as the quiet of the night stretched on.

An hour later, the reality of the morning began to creep in. The hallway outside was still dead silent, but the faint glow of dawn through the sheer curtains meant time was running out before the rest of the tour crew woke up.

You sat on the edge of the bed putting your dress back on, knowing it’s time to go back to your hotel room. Michael sat with nervous anticipation.

“Okay,” he breathed, pulling you up into one last, long hug and pressing a warm kiss to your forehead. “Remember, LaToya’s waiting for you. She’s keeping guard, but you still have to be quiet so my mother doesn't wake up.”

“Don’t worry, Applehead,” you whispered back with a tiny smirk, tracing your thumbs over his cheekbones. “I’m a professional at this.”

Michael let out a quiet, breathless laugh, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Is that so? Just make sure you don't get caught, or I'll have to come rescue you.”

“I think I can handle LaToya,” you said softly, leaning up to press a slow, sweet kiss to his lips. “I’ll see you later today, okay? Get some rest.”

“I’ll try,” he whispered, holding your hand until your fingers slipped apart as you backed toward the door.

He opened the suite door just an inch, checking the empty carpeted corridor before giving you one last reassuring nod.

Stealing quietly down the long hallway, you reached the door to the suite. You gave the door three light, quick taps the signal you and LaToya had agreed on earlier.

A second later, the door clicked open without a sound. LaToya pulled you inside instantly, quickly shutting the door behind you and locking it with a sharp clack.

She turned around, taking one look at your flushed face and messy hair, a massive, knowing grin spreading across her face. Wearing her silk robe and holding a mug of tea, she crossed her arms and leaned back against the counter.

"Well, well... I see Michael's 'late-night rehearsal' ran a little over schedule," LaToya murmured, raising one dark eyebrow.

"Honestly, if you two get any louder with your quiet sneaking, Mother’s going to start thinking we have a ghost in the hotel."

A sudden giggle escaped your lips, and you quickly slapped both hands over your mouth to keep from waking up the rest of the suite.

LaToya smirked, shaking her head fondly as she ushered you toward the bedroom.

"Relax, she’s still sound asleep. Just make sure you remember to call your mother later back in L.A., okay? As far as anyone else is concerned, you've been right here doing my hair all night."

You slipped into the bedroom, pushing the door shut until it clicked silently into place. The room was bathed in the cool, muted tones of early morning, completely secluded from the rest of the world.

Sinking onto the edge of the plush bed, you kicked off your shoes and pulled your knees up to your chest, letting out a long, slow breath. The lingering adrenaline finally began to melt away, leaving behind a sweet, heavy warmth that settled deep in your chest.

You leaned your head back against the headboard and closed your eyes, letting your mind wander back to everything that had just transpired. It had been your first passionate, truly intimate night with Michael, and the memory of it sent a sudden wave of emotion through you.

He had been breathtakingly gentle.

Every touch had been deliberate, soft, and reverent, as if he were holding something incredibly fragile and precious. You remembered the quiet tremor in his hands, the deep, searching look in his eyes every time he paused to check on you, and the raspy, tender whispers against your skin, making sure you felt completely safe and cherished.

A slow, helpless smile pulled at your lips in the dark room. He had loved you so completely, wrapping you in a quiet sanctuary where the outside world simply

[michaelsbadgal]

fuvk fuck duck fuck fuck fuck

[reiykaa]

spiderman and mj….wait Michael Jackson??

[histendercaress]

Oh, darling! When I get to heaven, I’m running straight to you🪽🤍☺️🤗

[brownsugarletters]

Ain't Too Proud To Beg

Michael Jackson x fem!reader

SYNOPSIS: Mikey is obsessed with reader squirting and ain't too proud to beg. That's the plot.

CONTENT: Filthy smut, descriptive dirty talk, bratty!Michael, sub!Michael, needy!mike, slightly dominant reader, unprotected sex, slight overstimulation, established relationship, girlfriend!reader, era 1977, pre-otw!Mike

Author's Note: My first time really writing subby mike, I hope y'all like it 😝 very lightly proof read sorry for any mistakes 🫣

Late night had settled over the Hayvenhurst estate and rain was pounding against its windows. Inside Michael's room, a candle crackled quietly and burned into a pool of oil while Luther Vandross played quietly from a stereo in the corner of room. Michael had goosebumps up his arms from the contrast of the warm air in the room and the cool breeze flowing through the curtains. He didn't notice though, his focus hadn't left you once.

Under him, you had your legs spread around his hips and the sheets were warm and slightly damp with the evidence of what you and Michael had been up to for the past hour. He rolled his hips slow and deep like he was savoring every little movement. Every time his curious hips prodded at that little spot deep inside you, your tummy jumped hard against his and your walls fluttered around him. When he felt it, a high shaky little sound left his throat.

Soft brown eyes stayed on yours as he bit down on his bottom lip to quiet himself. Michael brushed his lips against your ear and murmured,

“Can you do it for me, baby?” He used that real soft, sweet tone he always did when he really wanted something from you. “The thing where you...squirt." he dropped his voice to a softer octave at the last word as if it was forbidden. "Please. Wanna see it again.”

Instantly, you grew embarrassed and your face went warm.

“Mikey, don’t start.” You moaned against his cheek.

A soft little sound that sounded a lot like a bratty huff left his throat. He cupped your jaw so couldn't turn away. His doe eyes got even bigger, shiny and pleading as his bottom lip pushed out in a subtle pout.

“Please, baby. I’ll be so good for you. I won’t tell anybody. It’s just us.” He kissed your lips sloppily in between sentences while his hips kept moving. "You can trust me" Another whiny, shaky moan slipped out of him when your stomach jumped again, sweat slicking between you two from the heat of his body against yours. “You’re sooo pretty when you cum like that. I love you so much....Please lemme feel it again. I’ll do anything you want me to.”

You reached up and let your fingers trail slow down his abdomen, dragging your nails lightly and sending chills down his spine.

"Anything?"

His tummy clenched hard under your touch and a cracked moan left his lips. His hips stuttered like he’d lost his rhythm completely— which was nearly impossible for Michael Jackson, but that's how infatuated he was with you.

“Don’t— don’t do that,” he whimpered. “It’s too much. Baby, please—”

You already knew what touching him while talking dirty did to him. It always brought him right to the edge, he was such a desperate little lover boy.

“You get so needy when you want somethin' from me,” you murmured. “Look at you. Shakin' just from me touchin’ on you. Throbbin’ inside me like a good boy.”

Michael’s eyes fluttered and another needy whimper left him as his hips jerked without warning. You felt him throb hard inside you, pressure heavy in your belly. He looked almost frustrated about it, like his body was betraying him.

“Don’t say it like that,” he breathed, more pouty now. “You know what it does to me. M'gon cum if you keep talkin’ like that. I can’t hold it when you talk dirty to me. I never can. You’re bein’ mean, baby”

“Maybe I want you to cum for me...and in me”

Then, Michael made the mistake of looking down between your bodies. Your cream was painting the base of his dick like melted ice cream on warm brown skin. Michael fought to keep his eyes from rolling back and soft sounds slipped past his lips as he dropped his forehead against yours, hips still rolling against yours almost frantically. He was so cute when he got like this, flustered and needy.

One of his large hands slipped between your bodies and long fingers found your clit, rubbing slow circles while he prodded gently at your insides, trying to figure out what felt best for you. He held your eye contact consistently the whole time, even as his long lashes fluttered and his eyes threatened to shut from the way you were soaking him.

The next stroke hit that tender bundle of nerves deliberately, like muscle memory. Your tummy jumped hard again and your walls pulsed rhythmically around him. The wet sound of your pussy taking him deep filled the quiet room. Michael’s doe eyes never left yours, even as needy little whimpers left him and his thighs started trembling. His arms were on either side of your head, encasing you possessively as he kept pressing wet kisses to your swollen, pouty lips.

“I know you don’t wanna,” he whispered. He sounded desperate and was almost embarrassed at how needy he sounded, but there was still soft stubbornness under it. “But it feels sooo good when you cum on me like that. Please lemme feel it. I’ll be so good for you after. I-I promise." his hips stuttered and his voice cracked when you clenched around him like you were trying to take him deeper. "I’ll go real slow… I’ll hold you the whole time… you don’t even have t'look if you don’t wanna. Just this once mama.”

You cupped his face and squeezed gently, pushing his lips into a cute pout.

“You can’t help yourself, huh?” you asked softly, brushing your lips against his as you held his face and kept his fluttering eyes trained on you. “Just beggin' so good for me. Can't even help how needy you sound, can you? You get this look every time you want me to squirt for you. All needy and stubborn at the same time. Look how weak you get for it.”

His whole body shivered and a cracked, soft moan spilled out of him, hips still stuttering slightly and losing their rhythm. You felt another strong throb inside you and his arms were starting to shake where he held himself up. He went still for half a second like he’d heard you, then started the same precise angle again anyway.

“Stop,” he whined. “Please stop talkin’ to me like that. M'serious baby. I’m right there. I can’t— and you’re still not givin’ me what I asked for”

Like he was on a mission, he kept circling your clit gently with your slick and stroking deep against that spot, eyes locked on yours the whole time. Every time your tummy jumped against his he made another soft, desperate sound. When you pulsed around him he whimpered like it was almost too much. His rhythm started to falter and he tried to slow down, hips pulling back just a little like he needed a second. But you locked your legs around his hips and pulled him back in deep.

"Uh-uh. Don't run from me Mikey" you whispered against his lips.

Michael made a high almost scared sound involuntarily, like the pleasure was overstimulating. His forehead dropped against your collar bone before raising again. His big eyes stayed on yours, slightly teary-eyed from the intense pleasure and bottom lip still pushed out just a little.

“You’re’ close, I can feel it mama. Creamin' all over me, and it's gettin' louder. Do it for me. Please baby. I need it. It'll feel so good...I’ll be so good." His hips jerked without permission when you pressed your lips to his throat, tongue flicking against his pulse point. "I-I’ll stay real gentle, I promise. I’ll hold you the whole time. Please. I only get like this for you— and I asked so nice…”

He gently flicked his fingertips across your clit, changing the pace and forcing your legs to close tighter around his waist. He kept the same angle, continuously prodding that sensitive little spot inside you even though his arms were shaking from how overstimulated he felt. He knew exactly what he was doing.

The sensation tipped over and your back arched. A broken cry left your throat as the orgasm hit hard. Your stomach convulsed against his as a strong stream of wetness pulsed out of you around his dick, soaking both of you and the sheets. Your walls fluttered around him hard in heavy waves while you shook in his arms.

Michael’s eyes went wide when he looked down between your bodies the second he felt it start, watching the mess flood out around him. A soft shaky moan tore out of his chest and his hips stuttered hard.

“Oh my God—baby, look at you...it’s so much— I can feel it all over me—”

The feeling of you squirting around him pulled him right over the edge. His whole body tensed and his eyes rolled back hard as another higher pitched cracked moan left his throat as he started to cum inside you. It was loud enough that your hand flew up and covered his mouth so no one down the hall would hear. You did not need his brothers teasing y'all tomorrow.

He came hard, grunting and whining shakily against your palm, forehead pressed to yours. His body trembled while he spilled inside you in long pulses, throbbing continuously. The sheets were soaked. He stayed buried deep, dick still pulsing inside you through the last of it as weak spurts left him.

Even after the strongest waves faded he kept making small needy sounds against your hand, oversensitive and shaking, so soft and fucked out that every tiny flutter of your walls made him whimper again as his tummy convulsed.

"I love you so much" he mumbled against your hand, long lashes blinking away tears.

He only got like this for you, and it showed.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

please respect my work 💌

Everything posted here is written

by @brownsugarletters. Please do not repost, copy, translate, claim as your own, upload to Al tools, or share my writing outside of Tumblr without permission.

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[proseandj]

me and you (drabble/mini fic)

michael jackson x black reader

It was early in the morning, around eight o'clock, and you were up getting dressed to go help your close friend produce their newest album. You were damn good at your job, so when they needed someone to bring their project to life, you were the first person they called—and you had zero problem stepping up. The only real dilemma was figuring out who was going to watch your daughter, Aurora, for the day.

You had assumed Michael would be completely tied up, buried in the studio finishing up tracks for HIStory. But the second you brought up your predicament, his face lit up. He was more than eager to take the day off just to stay home with her.

“—That way I get to spend more time with, Tiny,” he had exclaimed, using the sweet nickname he’d given her the very day she was born. Back then, her small frame had looked so fragile in your arms, practically weightless like a little porcelain doll. You remember the soft wet laugh that escaped him as he whispered through joyous tears about how adorable and tiny she was. You suppose the name just stuck.

So now, here he was, sitting on the edge of the bed, the mattress sinking slightly under his weight with a 6 month old Aurora cradled securely in his lap. She was contentedly gnawing on a teething toy, both of their eyes locked on you as you moved around the room putting the final touches of your outfit together.

"I should be back hopefully around seven," you said, checking your reflection in the mirror one last time. "Just call me if you need me, or if anything goes wrong."

"Mama, relax. I can handle it," he said gently, rising from the edge of the bed and strolling over to where you stood. Your daughter rested contently on his hip, her tiny hand clutching his shirt while she gnawed on her teether.

He slid his free arm around your waist, his large palm settling on your stomach and pulling you flush against his chest. "Look at my baby lookin' all sexy and professional," he murmured, his dark eyes trailing down your simple setup of a white button down and a pair of tailored wide legged dark-wash jeans.

Normally, most people wouldn't dress up just to head into a studio session, but you always insisted on looking put together wherever you went—you never knew who you might run into, and your presence was part of your brand.

"Boy, I always look sexy and professional," you retorted without missing a beat, a confident smirk curling your lips as you adjusted your earring in the mirror.

Michael let out that low, soft giggle of his, leaning in to press another warm, lingering kiss, this time to your neck, his breath hot against your skin. "Can't even argue with you on that one," he hummed, his chest vibrating against your back. "You look good, Tinka. Real good."

He shifted Aurora slightly on his hip, and the little girl let out a happy, babbling noise, reaching out one chubby hand toward your hair. Michael caught her wrist with effortless gentleness, kissing her tiny knuckles before looking back at your reflection with a proud, dopey grin.

"See? Babygirl agrees with me," he teased, his hand sliding down to your side, thumb rubbing small, comforting circles into your hip bone. "Now stop worryin' about us. We’re gonna have a full day of playing, watching cartoons, and probably driving the staff crazy. Right, pumpkin?"

Aurora just kicked her feet against his stomach in response, entirely pleased with her daddy.

With a final confirmation, you smoothed the imaginary wrinkles from your pants before turning around to face Michael. Looking at the two of them now, you can't help but notice how similar they look. From the shape of their eyes to the curves of their cheeks. Even when she smiled, there was something unmistakably familiar about her expression, as if you were looking at a mini-Michael. The longer you looked between the two of them, the more similarities seemed to reveal themselves. It was almost as if God deliberately put you through hell for nine months, just for you genes to barely make an appearance.

Though the thought alone was enough to bring a small involuntary smile to your lips, though it only lingered for another moment before you pulled yourself out of it, remembering you still had somewhere to be. You glances at your watch, realizing that you could afford to get lost in your fluffy thoughts for much longer.

"Alright, appleheads, I'm out. Be good for daddy." You leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your daughter's forehead before straightening up. Your attention shifted to your husband, a small smile tugging at your lips as you leaned in closer.

"And you be good, too."

"I'm always good, girl," he replied with a goofy grin.

You only laughed softly, leaning up to press a few quick pecks to his lips before pulling away. For a moment, you lingered there, taking in the warmth of the quiet little scene with your family before finally grabbing your things and heading downstairs.

"I love you guys, I'll be back later," was the last thing heard before the door closed, leaviing Michael and Aurora standing there in the soft quiet of the foyer. Michael let out a small breath, glancing down at the little girl in his arms.

They’ll be fine, you thought as you slid into the backseat of the car.

“C’mon, baby, just eat it. Your mama would literally strangle me if she knew I didn’t feed you.” Michael whined softly, sitting just a few inches away from Aurora’s high chair. A small plate of oatmeal sat in front of her, the spoon still hovering patiently between them.

You’d been slowly transitioning Aurora from milk to solid foods, which sounded easy enough. In practice, however, Michael had discovered that convincing a six-month-old to eat was an entirely different story.

He’d been holding the spoon up to her mouth for what felt like a whole three minutes now.

Aurora hadn’t budged.

As the gentle parent he wanted to be, Michael didn’t want to force her. If she wasn’t ready to take the bite, he’d rather let her decide for herself. So he simply waited, keeping the spoon near her mouth while she stared back at him with an expression that was almost suspiciously serious.

“For daddy?” he pleaded softly. “Please?”

Aurora only blinked.

Michael blinked back.

Neither of them moved.

“…Tiny.”

Another slow blink.

He sighed, lowering the spoon slightly.

“I bet you already know you got me wrapped around your finger, huh?”

Aurora responded with a tiny babble, her little hands resting against the tray of her high chair.

Michael’s couldn’t help the way his face immediately softened.“Yeah, you know..”

He lifted the spoon again, bringing it toward her mouth without rushing her.

“Just a little taste. That’s all daddy’s asking for.”

Aurora’s eyes followed the small pink spoon before drifting back up to his face. And there they were again—those big, round doe eyes that looked identical to his own.

Michael paused.

He stared at her for a second, then shook his head with a quiet laugh.

“Man… you really do have my eyes.”

Aurora simply stared back at him, seeming completely unbothered by the realization.

“Okay, pretty girl. One bite.” He patiently held the spoon out again. “Then you can decide if you like it.”

For a few seconds, Aurora only stared at the spoon, her little brows furrowing as though she were carefully considering his offer. Then, finally, she opened her mouth.

“That’s it,” he murmured, gently guiding the spoon between her lips. Aurora took the bite, and for a moment, Michael watched her closely, waiting for the inevitable grimace he’d been expecting. Instead, her little face brightened.

Her eyes widened, and she made a soft, pleased sound before opening her mouth again, this time reaching toward the spoon on her own.

Michael broke into a grin. “Oh, now you want some?” He let out a quiet laugh, scooping up another small bite and bringing it toward her.

“There’s my girl. That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

Aurora eagerly accepted the next bite, her tiny hands patting against the tray as she babbled happily. Michael could only shake his head, smiling to himself.

“Look at you,” he murmured. “Actin’ like you ain’t just had daddy fighting for his life over one little spoonful.”

After a bath, and a full day spent playing and practicing tummy time, the house had slowly settled into a quiet evening. And your ass still wasn’t home.

Michael had decided to put on a movie, figuring the two of them could relax for a while. He searched through his collection of VHS tapes until he finally found what he was looking for.

Peter Pan, his favorite.

He slid the tape into the VCR and made himself comfortable on the plush sofa in the living room, stretching out as Aurora settled against his chest. She was freshly bathed and dressed in a soft pink onesie—the same one her grandmother Katherine gifted you during the baby shower—her pacifier bobbing gently between her lips as her wide eyes remained fixed on the television.

Michael glanced down at her before looking back at the screen. “This is my favorite movie,” he said softly. “Which means it’s gonna be your favorite too.”

Aurora gave no response, too captivated by the colors moving across the television. Michael smiled to himself.

“You know why I call your mama Tink?”

He paused, though he already knew he wasn’t getting an answer.“’Cause she reminds me of Tinkerbell. Full of personality, cute and feisty…” His smile grew softer. “And loyal. She’s always been by my side.”

His gaze returned to the television, but he wasn’t really watching the movie anymore. His thoughts had drifted somewhere else entirely. “She’s given me so much,” he continued quietly. “A better perspective on life. Love…”

His eyes lowered to Aurora. “She gave me you.”

His fingers gently found one of her tiny coils, carefully twirling it around his finger before letting it spring back into place. Aurora remained perfectly content against his chest, her little body rising and falling with each quiet breath.

Michael swallowed, his expression growing thoughtful as he thought about you, his sweet girl. “I wanna be the best for her,” he murmured. “For you, too.”

His hand moved slowly along her back, almost absentmindedly. “I wanna be the father I never had. Somebody you can count on. Somebody gentle. Somebody you never have to be afraid of.”

He looked down at her again, his voice barely above a whisper now.

“I wanna’ be your safe space, y’know?”

Aurora shifted slightly against his chest, her tiny fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt, causing Michael to smile.

“I promise,” he whispered. “I’m gonna’ be good for you and your mama.”

For a while, he didjt say anything else. The movie continued playing in the background, the soundtrack Michael grew familiar too playing softly in the background as the two drifted to sleep in the warmth of each others presence.

About seven hours later, you finally returned home.

After thanking your driver, you stepped out of the car and made your way toward the front door, already looking forward to nothing more than a hot shower, the comfort of your bed, and the comfort of your husbands arms.

You unlocked the door, stepped inside, and quietly closed it behind you before locking it again. A tired sigh escaped you as you kicked your heels off near the entrance. You’d get them later.

“I’m back,” you called softly into the house.

When you didn’t get an answer, you furrowed your brows slightly, glancing down the quiet hallway. “Mikey? Tiny?”

Still nothing.

Curiosity pulled you farther inside, your footsteps growing quieter as you made your way toward the living room. Then you stopped.

The sight in front of you instantly melted whatever exhaustion had been weighing on your shoulders. Aurora was curled comfortably against Michael’s chest, her tiny body completely relaxed as she slept. One of his arms rested protectively around her, his own head tilted slightly against the back of the plush sofa.

The television was still on, the ending credits of what you could only assume had been some Disney movie slowly rolling across the screen.

You couldn’t help but smile. “Aww, my angels…” you cooed to yourself.

You carefully stepped closer, doing everything you could not to wake them. For a moment, you simply stood there, taking in the sight of your husband and daughter sleeping peacefully together. It was almost too sweet to interrupt.

You leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss against Aurora’s forehead before moving to Michael and leaving an equally soft kiss against his.

With one last glance at the two of them, you quietly turned away, finally making your way upstairs for that long awaited hot shower.

taglist:

@plan3tch1ld @yourleogf @angelofpearls @thebabykashmere @swavydadon @saintwrld @newctrll @callmelyriic @pytafterdark @greekjournal @luminousshardobelisk @wisejudgeddragonhairdo @loveposiie

[angelfacediary]

Hi!!! Can you make one where reader and michael are a bit older and all of their kids are grown and teens but they decided to prank michael by doing the "telling my mom to shut up in front of my dad" and michael got mad?

Thank you! Love your work always girlie 🥹

݁ ˖Ი𐑼⋆ what did you just say? • Michael x reader

⤷ ゛Synopsis ˎˊ˗ Doing the "tell mom to shut up in front of dad" prank on Michael !

𑣲⋆ warnings : none !

"Mom, mom," your kids whispered, their heads peeking into your room past your door frame, phones in their hands as they giggled repeatedly.

"Hey, babies, what's wrong?" Part of you wanted to panic, but the other part of you knew they were about to show you something on that TikTack app of theirs or whatever it's called.

"Look, there's a trend on TikTok where you tell your mom to shut up in front of Dad to see his reaction," your daughter explained, an odd look of excitement playing out on her face as you looked between your two kids.

"You guys seem a little too excited to tell me to shut up," you shook your head, a laugh falling from their lips.

"And you know your dad is going to be fuming, let's do it." You clasped your hands together. Honestly, you were brimming with excitement too, especially because you knew Michael all too well. He was very heavy in teaching the kids respect and how to talk to adults, so this prank you were plotting would probably make steam blow out of his ears. Hell, it might even send him to an early grave, wondering where his kids learned to talk like that.

So there you were sitting around the dinner table, plates of food decorating the tablecloth. Forks and knives clinking against their plates as they ate, a giggle falling from their lips.

“What are you giggling at over there?” You questioned, your fork pushing around your own plate of food as you bit back your own laughter, knowing that your husband was going to freak when he heard what your youngest was about to say.

“It's nothing, Mom, just shut up, you wouldn't get it,” your son spoke up quickly, using his fork to pick up another piece of chicken, putting it in his mouth.

There was a sickly silence that fell over the table; it was so quiet that it made everyone in the room swallow thickly, Michael's fork clattering against his plate, chewing coming to a halt.

“What did you just say?” Oh, he was beyond pissed.

“I just said-” he was immediately cut off, Michael's voice cutting through the air like a knife.

“No, don't repeat it, I know what you said. Don't ever talk to your mother like that ever again, do you hear me? I don't even know how you fixed your lips to say that.” His lips curled, like they usually did when he was pissed.

Your son's smug look fading from his face as he swallowed again.

“In this house, you respect her. She's done a lot for you, and what's so funny?” You could barely keep your composure, a laugh slipping from you as you covered your mouth.

“Dad, it's a prank,” your daughter explained, exposing the phone in her hand. The camera rolling in her hand shaking slightly because she was too busy laughing at the look of embarassment that quickly spread across his face.

“Huh? Oh… oh my,” he shook his head, laughing from disbelief, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose, his worked-up nerves soothing themselves as he took a deep breath.

“The next time you want to do a prank, make sure it doesn't nearly give me a heart attack. Now eat your dinner. I can't believe you guys"

“I'm so sorry, your face, though,” you nudged his shoulder.

“Yeah, I think next time we'll pick a prank that you won't kill us over,” your son spoke, shoving food in his mouth.

©angelfacediary

Requests : open

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Wanna join ? Click here !

[pytfromnyc]

I love you so matcha

michael tries matcha matcha for the first time <3

michael’s face twists in disgust. “ew, it tastes like wet grass. how do you even drink this?”

“I get mine with vanilla in it, makes it taste wayyyy better.” you took another sip from your matcha as he watched you in confusion.

“you let me order a regular and didn’t warn me? I thought you loved me,” he pouts.

you rolled your eyes at him. “don’t start that again, michael. you know I love you.”

“if you love me then let me try some of yours.”

“over my dead body.”

without warning, michael snatches the matcha out of your hand and runs away from you like an evil little kid, laughing the entire way down the block. by the time you catch up to him, more than half of your drink is gone.

you grab the cup out of his hand and assess the damage. “I know you fuckin’ lying. how the hell did you drink that much in less than ten seconds!”

“I guess you could say I loved it so matcha.” he was laughing so hard he couldn’t stand up. “get it? like “much” but I said matcha.”

you gripped his ear and bent him down to your height. “you think this is funny? you’re buying me a new one. now.” you let go of his ear and held his hand as you started walking back to the coffee shop.

michael gave you a kiss on the cheek as you both walked down the street. “I’m sorry, mama.” he wasn’t sorry in the slightest, that drink tasted so good. plus, he liked seeing you get mad—it was very cute.

“no you’re not i can hear you smiling. and stop trying to serenade me, i’m still mad at you.”

he stopped you in your tracks and turned you around to face him. “cmon, you’re not actually angry with me. you have to admit it was a little funny.”

your attitude was unwavering. “it’s not funny, michael. I’ve been craving that drink for weeks! I can’t get it as often because i don’t have any time to go out and walk fifteen minutes—“

michael gives you a sweet, innocent kiss on the lips, temporarily shutting you up. “I’ll buy you as many matches as you please, ok?”

you open your eyes and stare him down suspiciously, searching him for any clues of deception. you found none. “as many as I want?”

“as many as you want,” he smiled.

© pytfromnyc

I do not consent to using my work for ai in any way, shape, or form. do not copy my work in general.

a/n: I never had matcha a day in my life I’m being such a poser rn 😭. anyways, this has been sitting in my drafts for a hot minute.

find more of my works here !!

[cuntykuro]

𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒌 𝒉𝒐𝒘 𝒃𝒊𝒈 𝒉𝒆 𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒌𝒔 𝒂𝒈𝒂𝒊𝒏𝒔𝒕 𝒉𝒆𝒓..ꯁ.̮ꯁ

[pytforever]

Ik this ain’t real but this lowkey got me pissing😭LMFAOO DEADASS HOW HE WAS MOVING WITH THOSE OLD TWEETS

[moejacksonn]

hold me ⊹ ࣪ ˖

𝑜𝓉𝓌!michael x 𝒻. reader ˎˊ˗

synopsis : michael holding your hand while he passionately eats you out ⋆.˚

tags : shy reader , soft dom!michael , reader is black , established relationship , no use of y/n , michael has many nicknames for the reader ( princess , tink , baby , angel , mama ) , squirting , semi proof-read , michaels a little perv , there's no plot lol

wc : 2.8k ( got a lil carried away oops )

a/n : hii this is my first time writing smut and PUBLISHING IT so i'm a bit nervy.. likes, reblogs, and comments are much appreciated !! if this kinda bangs then i'll start writing more fics ( ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ഒ i was inspired after seeing this tweet ❤︎

⋮ ⌗ ┆Hayvenhurst Home - 1980

it was another quiet, delicate night in the encino neighborhood, past 8pm when the street lamps illuminated the street, painting it a warm yellow.

you were in your cute, flowy, slip nightgown–the one you and michael favored the most, that stopped right at the underside of your ass. you decided to go pantless this time because–why not? you hadn't done any of your skin care yet, and your curls were still damp from the previous shower you took.

stepping out the bathroom, you see michael. his attention seemed to be on something unknown, until you finally say something.

" hi baby, " you say, stepping towards him.

michael looked up almost instantly, and you watched how his eyebrows rose—his eyes widening—taking in your figure. you could've sworn you saw hearts in his eyes.

" tink... you look.. " he sat up instantly, making his way towards you in the middle of the room.

you feel your face flush as he took it in his hands, staring deeply into your eyes. the eye contact seemed almost unbearable, making you squirm in his grasp.

he moved his left hand to gently caress your waist. a simple move that set your body on fire. you felt his thumb rub circles into your hip, teasingly slipping a finger under the nightgown.

as soon as he made contact with your panties, he stopped.

" baby..you're not wearing anything under this ? " he asked , watching your face flush as you diverted your eyes. suddenly, the view outside the window seemed much more interesting than what was happening now.

seeing how shy you were, he gently hooked his fingers on your chin , guiding your face back to his gaze. you watched michael look at you. really look at you. your beautiful doe eyes that was paired with a perfect set of long lashes. then you saw him lick his bottom lip.

" tink..can i kiss you ? " he said lowly, glancing at your plump, pink lips before gazing back into your eyes.

you nod, and felt both of his hands grab your waist, pulling it flush close to yours as he leaned in to kiss you tenderly. you sighed into the kiss, snaking your hands up to his neck to rub the hairs on his nape.

you felt him slide his tounge across your bottom lip, a subtle way of asking you to let him inside. he wanted to explore more. you happily obliged, letting both of your tounges intertwine.

after a few minutes of sucking and licking, you felt a familiar heat boil inside of you. the familiar feeling that makes you needy and sensitive to every touch given.

" michael... " you whisper inbetween the kiss. he pulled back just a inch from your face to look you in the eyes again, his forehead leaning against yours. you could feel him hardening down below, as your leg found its way between his thighs mid-kiss.

" yes baby? what d'ya need? " he whispered back.

you and michael never actually had sex before. there were times you've gotten close, but one of you always chickened out. still held back by his religious views—believing that you should only have sex once married—along with your shy nature that was always a cockblock.

he did feel guilty though. constantly leaving you high and dry, knowing how much both of you desired to just feel each other. he knew what you wanted, but couldn't give it to you at the moment.

but thats when suddenly—he got an idea.

" here baby. i have an idea. " he said, gripping under your thighs to pick you up.

you let out a small yelp at the swift motion, instantly hooking your legs around his waist.

he laid you softly on the bed, and he stood between your two legs.

the sight in-front of michael alone made his pants tighten and his chest heave. you below him, nightgown riding up your thighs, damp curls carefully splayed across the soft sheets of his bed, your flushed face and your lips plump, covered in his saliva. just helpless, at his mercy.

you gaze up at him. the lights were off, and the only light in the room came from the street lights outside. you watched his every move with a tinge of excitement yet nervousness.

he was hunched over you, both arms at your sides, caging you in. he pushed a few curls past your ear to whisper :

" can i eat you out ? "

your breath hitched. it felt like your heart stopped for a second as you snapped your head towards him, not realizing how close he was. he was flashing that cute, shy smile of his.

" michael?- "

" it doesn't count! or atleast it shouldn't.. its not like im putting it in.. " he mumbled, cutting you off.

he snaked a hand down to your exposed thigh, stroking it gently.

" will you let me ? please mama.. " he planted a small kiss on your neck, breathing heavily. you felt his hard-on directly now, rubbing against your thigh, and you gulped. hard.

" just wanna please you, " he looked up and searched in your eyes for a hint of approval, until you nodded.

as soon as you gave him the green light, he went in for another kiss, making it deeper than the last. while kissing you, he moved his hand from your thigh, and began caressing your left boob.

you let out a small whine and bit your lip, feeling his large, calloused hand knead and squeeze your boob. squirming and writhing under his touch , you feel your panties dampen. and you grow impatient.

he squeezed and pulled your sensitive, hard, nipple, eliciting a moan from you as he pulled away.

" oh baby. y'look so beautiful like this. so pretty under me.. " he cooed, licking your saliva from his lips.

you gave him a small pout, rubbing your thighs together. " michael..honey.. " you whined, stroking his arm.

" whats the matter tink? " he moved his hand to stroke your cheek, watching your face.

you shifted slightly under him, embarrassed. it was too embarrassing to admit that a simple passionate kiss and boob touching got you all hot and bothered, but you needed it bad. needed to feel his tongue explore more than just your mouth.

" stop stallin' michael.. 'm ready for you. " you whisper, voice a bit shaky with shame.

michael's eyes widened a bit, and he sheepishly chuckled. " 'm sorry baby. i wont make you wait any longer, i swear."

he crawled back down the bed until he was on his knees in-front of the bed. he grabbed your hips, pulling you closer to the edge of the bed. your damp panties aligned directly with his face.

it wasnt the brightest in his room, but he could still see how soaked you were. he could smell your scent, and could tell just how much you wanted this. so, he didnt stall any longer.

he hooked his fingers on the side of your panties, pulling them completely off and secretly shoving them in his pajama pocket for later.

you gasped at the sudden cold air that hit your cunt, sitting up just enough to see that familiar set of curls positioned between your thighs.

michael felt like he was in a trance, completely enamored by your beautiful pussy. perfect brown lips, bulging clit that begged to receive his attention. you were trimmed and neat, and michael almost drooled at the sight. he wanted to take it all in, wanted to remember it forever.

you hadn't a clue on what michael was thinking, but his staring began to make you a bit self-conscious. it didn't help that his staring made you even more wet , his hot and heavy breath hitting your cunt.

"nnh..michael , stop starin' so much.. y'making me embarrassed." you whined, and watched as he lifted his head to face you.

" 'm sorry princess ! it's just.. she's so pretty. can't wait to make love to her—make you feel good. " he mumbled, placing his hands on each of your thighs to spread you.

you felt yourself blush at his statement, laying back flat onto the sheets.

he moved in closer, taking in your natural scent before licking your slit. soft, with just enough pressure to get you going. you sucked in a short breath, your back lifting slightly off the bed.

he felt a small tremor in your thighs as he continued to lick your cunt. he had no idea what he was doing, but he ought to try his best. he pulled back, positioning one finger infront of your entrance.

he looked up at you, watching your chest heave. " 'm gonna put a finger in , is that alright angel ?"

" yes.. " you breathe out.

he gathered some slick onto his finger before slowly pushed it inside of you. he let out a low grown as he finally got to feel your heavenly walls. you whimper, instantly tightening around him.

he swore he could've came on the spot.

"ooh baby..fuck.. " you moaned , feeling him push his finger in and out of you. you've tried fingering yourself before, but of course it didn't feel as good as this. it usually resulted in you giving up, frustrated and exhausted because you couldn't reach that special spot inside that pushed you to the very edge of your orgasm.

but here michael was, adding another finger inside you, driving you almost insane as he pumped at a faster speed.

the room smelled of faint vanilla perfume, crisp air from outside, and your slick. the only noises heard were the lewd, squelching sounds coming from michael working your pussy.

"ugh—oh shit ! baby-"

at this point, your back was fully arched off the bed, thighs trembling as you gripped the sheets for dear life. you hardly felt any shame, whining and screaming, chanting michaels name like a prayer. all he could do was listen, forehead coated with sweat.

he palmed his ever so painful boner that was straining against his pants, begging to be touched. it was almost torture, making you feel this good while his dick got no attention. but at this point he could nearly cum untouched just by listening and watching you writhe and scream from his fingers alone.

he couldn't imagine how you'd be with him inside you.

michael glanced at your neglected clit, that was practically begging for attention. without a second thought, he latched onto it, licking and sucking the nub.

it felt like electricity shot right through your body, and you let out a helpless yelp that caused michael to immediately stop. you whined softly at the sudden action.

" did i hurt you angel ?" he whispered, instantly moving his left hand to soothe your trembling thigh.

you shook your head, and he let out a sigh of relief. for a second, you saw an idea form in his head.

"here angel, hold my hand. and also, try to be a bit quieter please.. not that i don't love your cute noises, but the family's still here y'know."

you nodded, holding his left hand.

he went back to fingering you while licking and sucking your clit. every lick and every stroke left you utterly breathless. the only thing that came out of your mouth were heavy breaths, whimpers, and groans as you began to feel a tight coil form in your groin.

"mmh baby...i feel somethin' comin'..." you whined, feeling tears prickling at the corners of your eyes. you sat up just enough to see michael again. this time, his big doe eyes staring right at you.

he picked up the pace, feeling your hand tighten around his.

"mhm, just hold me angel. make y'feel alright.." he muttered against your cunt, the vibrations making you throw your head back.

michael was lapping at your clit like his life depended on it, eating you out like a man starved of food. you tasted so good—better than he'd imagined. he listened to the sweet noises that you couldn't help slipping off your tongue, struggling to be quiet. it was all so much, so intense.

but when michael curled his fingers, thats when you felt it.

"ngh–fuck! ooh shit..michael baby 'm close !" you moaned, almost pornographic.

you could feel michael smile against your cunt, slurping and sucking your clit even harder, pushing and curling those fingers deeper inside, reaching your g-spot.

"cum for me baby.. wanna see you come undone f'me.." michael mumbled against your cunt.

that simple demand was all it took for that tight coil inside to finally .

you let out a long moan, back arched as you gripped michaels hand for dear life. it probably hurt, but neither of you couldn't care less about that.

he rode out your high, still thrusting two fingers inside as you squished your thighs between his head. it felt like heaven, feeling your walls contract and squeeze against his fingers as you came.

"m-michael, please.." you pleaded, wondering why he hadn't pulled out his fingers yet.

he looked up at you, eyes hungry and craving more. you could've came again right then and there from his gaze alone.

" i want more mama. will you let me? " he pushed his fingers impossibly deeper inside of you, earning a small yelp from you. he licked his lips.

you sighed and nodded. but you'd soon regret allowing him to continue.

it was now 5 minutes since your last orgasm, and michael was 3 fingers deep inside of you. he was still sucking and licking your sensitive clit, making you constantly squirm and whine under his touch.

you could feel another orgasm building up, but this time it felt different.

by this point, michael recognized when you were close, so he'd speed up the pace to bring you there quicker. hearing your sobs and pleas, he intertwined his hand with yours, giving it a soothing squeeze to try and ground you.

" uh-uhffuck.. michael- " you felt yourself fuck back on michaels fingers, dying to release.

" give it to me baby...doin' so good f'me. " the praise only pushed you further to the edge, causing you to let out one final moan before you came.

and there it was, you felt yourself shake violently as you squirted , your hips stuttering in the air as fluids gushed out of you and onto michael's face. your breath was erratic, blabbering incoherent noises as you squeezed michaels hand impossibly tighter ( probably cutting off his blood circulation. )

after a couple of seconds of catching your breath and coming down from your high, michael slowly pulled his fingers out and released your hand. you whined from the emptiness that followed.

" that was... " michael mumbled, looking up at you. he admired how you looked in your fucked-out state. messy curls splayed against the sheets–save for the few short curls stuck to your forehead sweat. your shaky thighs and heaving chest, nipples still hard. along with your nightgown that rested right above your boobs, exposing your soft tummy.

he wiped your juices from his mouth and chin, and glanced at his fingers. wrinkly and covered with your cum mixed with squirt. you sat up and watched him curiously put his fingers inside his mouth.

watching him taste you, licking his fingers clean turned you on more than you'd like to admit.

but the embarrassment came almost instantly after realizing what you'd done. that was your first time squirting, and it felt so good. yet you were still ashamed.

" mikey... 'm so sorry i didn't warn- "

he cut you off with a kiss, then pulled back. " don't apologize. that was beautiful. you're beautiful ."

you felt your face heat up again, as he gently caressed your cheek.

" let me clean you up. " michael got off the bed and made his way to the bathroom, gathering a cloth to clean your mess.

as he made his way back to you, he chuckled to himself, staring at the wet spot right below your ass. " looks like we'll need to change the bedding aswell. "

you groaned into your hands.

──── ୨୧ ────

it's been an hour since michael ate you out, and you both were on the bed, watching television. michael laid on top of your stomach. you always loved to feel his weight smothering you.

while you were combing your hand through his curls absentmindedly, he sighed and looked up at you. " angel, did i.. do good earlier? "

you smiled and let out a small chuckle, " yes baby. that was the first time i squirted. " you felt slightly embarrassed admitting that, but you felt like you should tell him. make him know that he made you feel real good.

you saw his face light up at the praise, and he lifted your nightgown to place small, sweet kisses to your tummy. "i'm so glad. honestly, i had no idea what i was doin'. "

you let out a giggle at his confession, since you already had a feeling he was new to it. you both were new to it. you were just glad you had your first with him.

" and um, i wanna try it again sometime. "

your eyes widened and face flushed at his statement and he just laughed in return.

𝒻𝒾𝓃.

this fic was not made with ai , and i do not allow my fics to be fed to ai ⃠

[babybeapplehead]

so i will be taking a gap semester to hone in on my editing skills . like i gotta whole list in my notes app of songs that fit michael so well

[imababyfried-tofu]

You guys definitely don't KNOW how badly I love late 70's - OTW era Michael like that's my muse, my angel, my everything, I'd anything for him, if I had the opportunity to meet Michael in any of his eras by traveling in a time machine I'd go back at that time without thinking TWICE

[carouselgirl77]

⋆˙⟡⋆ BUSY WOMAN .ᐟ.ᐟ

pairing: 𝓶ichael jackson x 𝓯em!reader

summary: 𝔂ou are far too busy for a boyfriend, which is why your arrangement works perfectly with michael. 𝓪t least that was until he confronts you for something more.

tags: 18+ mdni, 𝓼ituationship, 𝓯riends with benefits, 𝓯ashion industry!reader, 𝔀orkaholic!reader, 𝓬ommitment issues, 𝓶ichael's greedy apparently, 𝔂earning, 𝓾nprotected p in v, 𝓼oftdom!mike, 𝓹raise, 𝓼mut with plot, 𝓱appy ending.

wc: 3.1k

a/n: thank you all for 350 followers!! got this idea listening to busy woman by sabrina carpenter. i cannot help myself writing bird & yearning mike, so ur welcome!!

"hold still," you mumbled through a pin you were holding in your teeth.

"i am holding still."

"you're talking."

"i can't talk?"

"not when you move every time you do."

michael stood a little straighter, planting his feet firmly on the floor so as not to move. but you could still see the smirk he was trying to hold back in your peripheral vision.

technically, you weren't supposed to be here at all. you had just finished an eleven-hour day, and tomorrow promised at least ten more. you had three unanswered messages on your answering machine, four appointments tomorrow, and a meeting with some of the girls who worked under you in your company.

and yet, you were kneeling in front of michael jackson, fitting him for a suit he was supposed to wear later that week.

it was for work, or well, mostly.

"what are you doing on friday?" michael asked.

"working."

"saturday?"

"working too."

"you didn't even check."

you sighed, looking up at him, grabbing another pin from the cushion next to you. "i don't have to. i know what i'm doing."

michael bit his bottom lip, silent for a moment before continuing. "sunday?"

you laughed under your breath. "what, you trying to make an appointment?"

"apparently."

you and michael's relationship (or lack thereof) started completely innocent. his team worked routinely with your company, and as the head stylist, you were usually the one working on him.

michael was a total flirt, but you assumed it was harmless. at least that was until he began lingering longer after appointments, 'accidentally' bumping into you or brushing your skin, and finally, one day, kissing you after a three and a half hour fitting.

it was a total breach of conduct in every single way that you guys were hooking up. but you were now twenty-eight, and you, in full honesty, needed some dick or else you'd probably lose your mind.

that's what was so perfect about you and michael. despite being one of the busiest & most famous people on the planet, he was always available when you were free. he'd bend around your schedule. and, on top of it all, he was completely fine staying as hookup buddies.

"how much longer?" he asked.

"i'm almost done."

"and after that?"

"after this, i'm done."

"with me?"

"with work," you corrected.

michael hummed in approval, seeming to appreciate the distinction. you folded a piece of fabric over, sliding the last pin into place. "but i don't need to go home for another two hours."

"two whole hours?" he joked.

"i know, it's basically a vacation."

"let me take you to dinner then."

you rose to your feet, furrowing your brows at him. "i already ate."

"that's not what i meant."

"well, then you should've asked me earlier."

michael tried to smile, but you still caught the small eye roll. "i've been asking you."

"don't get greedy now. i just told you i have two hours."

michael repeated it under his breath. "greedy."

you put a hand on his chest, the same one that was wearing the suit you just carefully fit to him, making a clear distinction between working and being with him. "what? you don't want to?"

he melted under your touch, smiling, and bringing a hand up to wrap around your waist. "of course i do, baby," he said, pulling you in for a deep kiss.

and that's how it always happened. he could never stay mad at you, and anyway, it wasn't ever your fault. you never minded how all your carefully protected free time had become his. that was the whole point.

over the next month, you saw michael four times. once for work, and the other three completely by choice.

along the time you spent together, you started to learn more and more about him. he hated spaghetti. he loved kfc. he got quiet when he was tired, as to not lash out at anyone. he hated being rushed, and would wake up an extra twenty minutes earlier if it meant he could enjoy his morning.

similarly, he seemed to be noting things about you too. you'd bring flats to work just because you knew your feet would be hurting by noon. how you'd forget to eat after long days. how you hated being called before eight, because that's when 'the worst clients call.'

it didn't mean much to you. spending a lot of time with someone meant knowing someone, and knowing someone didn't mean loving someone.

one afternoon months ago, michael had called your work number late into the night.

"hello?" you said through gritted teeth, absolutely exhausted.

"you're still there?"

"i'm always here."

"have you eaten?"

you glanced over at the now-cold coffee cup sitting beside a stack of sketches. "not really- but i was gon-"

"no," michael interrupted. "you need to eat. i'll have my security get you that chinese place you like."

"michael, you don't need to do that."

"i know i don't need to," he paused. "i want to."

you couldn't put up much of a fight, and just thinking about your favorite chinese restaurant had your mouth watering.

so you let him. just like you let him do a lot of things for you; completely voluntary on his part. he was just a nice guy that was looking after you, but you didn't need it.

of course, it wasn't completely one-sided either. you had gotten him a new pair of sunglasses from one of your fittings. when you first saw them, you smiled to yourself. he would love these. the designer had told you he had a whole box of them, and let you keep them. you gave them to michael the following week.

"for me?" he smiled as you showed him the glasses from behind your back.

"i thought you'd like them. i imagined you'd look good in them."

"where'd you get them, baby?" he blushed. he'd always call you that, despite the fact you were not his baby.

"they're versace. i got them from a fitting."

michael smiled, opening them up and sliding them over his nose. "just like you imagined?"

you hummed lowly, coming close to whisper to him. "hmm... almost. i also imagined me riding you with them on."

his breath caught in his throat, fully freezing before his lips crashed against yours. he couldn't let anything you dreamed of stay inside that pretty head of yours.

a friday after your back and forth, michael had called your work number and asked to see you that night. actually, he specifically asked to get dinner with you.

your schedule was suffocating, and from the looks of it, you wouldn't be done until around eleven.

"so no dinner?" he asked through the receiver.

"unless you want to eat at twelve," you laughed, the phone cradled between the crook of your neck and your cheek.

"i would."

you licked your pointer finger, flipping through a stack of paperwork on your desk. "you'd fall asleep at the table."

"no, i wouldn't."

you grabbed the phone from your cheek. "michael, i'll see you another night."

michael paused, silence stretching through the call before finally speaking. "...okay."

"okay?"

"yeah. okay."

"i'll call you," you smiled, even though he couldn't see you. "bye, baby."

"bye" was the last thing you heard before the familiar tone of the other line dropping came through.

you set the phone back down, and got back to work.

as it turned out, eleven was a dramatic estimate. you signed off on the last design that crossed your desk around nine-fifteen, checked the clock, and started packing your bags.

with the now-free time, you decided to head over to neverland to see him.

most of the lights were off in the office; your purse slouched over your shoulder when you grabbed the phone. you knew michael's number by heart.

michael answered on the second ring, and you explained to him that you had finished early. he, very hesitantly for whatever reason, said you could still come over.

once you got there, you knocked on the heavy wooden doors before michael came to open them.

"hey," you smiled.

"hi," he said quietly, opening the door more to let you in.

"what happened to eleven?" he continued.

"i'm more efficient than i thought."

"good for you."

you hung your jacket on the nearby rack, turning to look at him. "what's wrong with you?"

"nothing's wrong with me."

"...you're acting weird."

"no, i'm not, i'm just tired," he said, stepping closer, his hands finding the fabric of your shirt around your waist.

"mhm..."

he softened, even slightly smiling. "what?"

"you're grumpy."

"me? i'm never grumpy."

you smiled, pressing a kiss to his cheek, the skin blooming red afterwards.

he came down, his lips finding yours lazily, before walking you backwards into the wall.

you breathed heavily onto his skin, your hand coming up to run through the back of his curls. his hands moved further down, grabbing your ass and pulling you flush against him.

you could feel everything- the familiar heat pooling in between your legs, as you began absentmindedly rocking against the growing bulge constricted in his pants.

his tongue broke between your lips, messy, but with a precision that alone made you weak. he kissed you with such intensity, as if he was trying to leave your taste on his lips so he could memorize it forever.

he broke away for only a second, heavy breathing. "let's go upstairs."

you nodded intently, your eyes already heavily lidded with lust. you followed him upstairs and down the hall of the home, into his master bedroom.

once you both got into the room, his lips found yours again. he groaned into you, not pulling away until finally tossing his shirt off in one, fluid move.

his hands roamed all over you, first to your ass, then your waist, then to cup your breasts- his fingers feathering your nipples over the fabric, then up to your face to cup your cheek.

you grabbed the bottom of your shirt, pulling it over your head, leaving you in just your bra.

he bit his lower lip, kissing the side of your neck as he unclasped the back of it. once your chest was bare, he stood, admiring, like you were the most beautiful thing on this planet.

"i could never get tired of seeing you like this," he whispered. "you take my breath away every time, my pretty girl."

you smiled, almost a little nervous, feeling his gaze on you. he quickly slid your pants off, making sure to hook his fingers on the edge of your panties, leaving you fully naked.

he did the same for himself, stuttering with his belt buckle and his pants sliding off and pooling on the floor. his boxers came off next, his cock springing free- fully erect and precum sitting atop his tip.

"lay on the bed for me baby. i've been thinking about you all week."

you stumbled back, your knees catching on the edge of the bed as your back hit the mattress. your thighs widened, practically involuntary, as he settled himself in between them.

michael brought his fingers to your folds, lightly grazing them through your wetness.

"baby, you're so wet already. just from me kissing you? you missed me that bad?"

you bit your bottom lip hard, a little shy, your back arching as he teased you. "you missed me more," you choked out.

his fingers stopped, landing just at your hole. "that might be true."

he smirked, driving two fingers directly into you, curling them just to the spot that drove you crazy.

you cried out, your knees buckling as he slammed his fingers into you. he brought his mouth to yours, trying to swallow your moans with a kiss, but you could hardly kiss him back.

he was not letting up, and if anything, his pace ran harder and quicker, even bringing his thumb up to circle around your clit.

you trembled, your hands not knowing where to grab. his back, drawing lines into the skin. his forearm, grasping it as he fingered you. the sheets, pulling at the fabric. nothing worked, and the coil inside you was tightening quickly.

"stay still, pretty," he coaxed, bringing his other hand to hold down your thigh onto the bed.

all you could do was yell out random profanities and his name, all falling from your lips. and then, you came. hard. the coil inside you snapped, your legs trembling, your vision going to stars, and a rush of pleasure filling every nerve in your body.

"you did so good for me, baby. you're so pretty when you come," michael whispered, guiding you through every aftershock that came. he was dedicated to riding this out.

michael slowly came up, sliding his fingers out and sticking them in his mouth. he couldn't let a drop go to waste. he needed your taste on his tongue forever.

he captured you in another kiss, and you could taste the musky flavor of yourself still on his lips, only turning you on more.

his hardness grinded against you as he moved lower, his mouth finding your nipple and lapping it flat against his tongue. his hand came up to roll the other one in between his fingers, his teeth grazing the one in his mouth. god, you could've come right there.

"please-" you whined.

"please, what baby?" he asked between kisses. "i'm going to need words."

"please," you hesitated. "please fuck me. i need you in me."

his hips stuttered forward at your words, finally settling himself fully between your legs and bringing your thighs to wrap around his waist.

he stabilized his hands on the bed, slowly pushing his length into you, letting you adjust to his size. you gasped as his tip bobbed in, filling you so completely in a way no one else had.

he eased in more, quicker this time, before fully bottoming out. he groaned deep, coming down to plant a kiss against your neck.

you two hardly did missionary, as you both agreed it was far too intimate. yet, now that you were, you understood the hype. you wanted to see his face fucking you forever.

"you drive me crazy, you know that?" he said through his heavy breathing.

you moaned as he moved, sliding in and out of you slowly. "i knew i could fix your attitude."

michael didn't reply, but instead showed it in his thrusts. he began pounding into you, his dick curving to your g-spot over and over again. you had, apparently, not fixed his attitude.

and his pace didn't stop. once he started, he couldn't stop. he was addicted to the way your pussy felt squeezing him.

"fuck- you feel so good," he said, his composure breaking, his thrusts becoming inconsistent.

and you got close- quickly. you grabbed hard onto his forearms, your back arching off the bed as you moaned incoherently.

"fuck- michael- please, don't stop, don't stop."

"i'm not gonna, baby. this is all for you. let go."

and as if on beat, you did. your pussy contracted on him, the wave of ecstasy rolling through your entire body. you were practically screaming, your thighs actually shaking around his waist.

michael wasn't far behind you. while fucking you through the aftershocks, it was bordering on overstimulation; he finally released into you. his hips hit yours in a rough slap, bottoming out, his balls hitting your ass.

"fuckkkk," he groaned, his head tipping back towards the ceiling.

he stayed inside you, slowly softening as you both heavily breathed in each other's arms. he finally pulled out, landing one final kiss on your lips. not sexual, but intimate. almost sad.

he stood on the edge of the bed as you stood up, your legs almost giving out on you, as you found your bra on the floor. you grabbed it, throwing the straps on your shoulder before going to hook the back.

michael stood behind you, reaching his hands out to brush your hair out of the way. "let me do it."

you let him, dropping your hands to your side. he hooked the clasp, but his hands lingered on your back.

"have dinner with me tomorrow."

you turned to look at him. "michael."

"i'm serious."

"i know you are."

he shook his head. "then say yes."

you sighed, grabbing your blouse off the floor. "i'm working tomorrow."

"you always are," he scoffed.

"what's that supposed to mean? i have a job, michael."

"so do i. and i still make time for you."

"me coming over after a long-ass day isn't making time for you?"

"no," he laughed bitterly. "you're giving me what's left. you're not really making time." he walked over to the other side of the room and slid his boxers back on. "i'm the one that makes time for you, and guess what?"

the guilt began rising in you. "what?" you said quietly.

"you never ask. you don't know that i have to cancel meetings, or move interviews, or just change my entire schedule to see you. and it's just because you never ask."

"that's not fair. you never tell me."

"and say what?" he laughed again, angrier this time. "'hey, i moved around my entire schedule because you called.'"

"don't say it like that."

he snapped his head around. "like what?"

"like i don't care about you."

"well, what am i supposed to think?"

"that i'm busy!" you raised your voice. "that you've known exactly what my life looked like the moment you met me."

"i know," he said, almost guilty.

"then what? why are you acting like it's my fault?"

"because i fell in love with you."

the words hung heavy in the air. you froze, the breath completely knocked out of you. there was no hesitation from him, no embarrassment after saying it. he looked at you like he had already practiced saying it to you hundreds of times.

"i love you," he repeated, shaking his head. "and i know that's not what we agreed on, but i can't spend another day doing this."

"michael..."

"you don't need to stop working. you don't even need to decide now." his voice dropped. "i just need to know if there'll ever be room for me."

his eyes scanned around the room, finally landing on your hands fumbling nervously with the blouse still in them. "because if there isn't, i don't think we should see each other anymore."

the silence after his words stretched long, weighing heavy on your heart. he had just put himself fully out there, and was prepared to be rejected. that's how much he meant it.

"what time?" you finally said.

michael's brows pulled together. "what?"

"for dinner, tomorrow. what time?"

"you're working."

you looked into his eyes. "i'll move it around."

⋆˙⟡⋆

join my taglist: @cupidslyrics @lapsofthegods @appleheadism @smickeyyy @lostinfogg

read my other works!

[curlypytclubx]

this day right here … rent free ALWAYS!!!!

[brownsugarletters]

Poetic Justice

Michael Jackson x Black!Reader

SYNOPSIS: Michael watches poetic justice for the first time and is… surprised by Janet’s language

CONTENT: super sweet fluff, post Dangerous era pre History era, era 1993, suggestive content

Author’s Note: GOT HIM GOIN CRAZY FOR THAT PU NA NA NA NAAAAA (iykyk)

All week, Michael had been talking to anyone who would listen about his baby sister’s new movie. Poetic Justice had just released, and Michael was over the moon about it. It had only been out a short while, but Michael had watched the trailer more times than he would admit.

Finally, the copy he personally requested was delivered to Neverland. Needless to say, Michael waited patiently like a kid on Christmas for you to wake up from your nap so that he could put it on for y’all as soon as you woke up.

“I’m telling you baby, this is Janet’s big break. She’s always wanted to be an actress.”

Michael said to you as he organized a little spread of snacks on the side table. He kept adjusting like everything had to be perfect. You were already curled up in a recliner with a fuzzy blanket, still rubbing sleep from your eyes as you watched him bustle about the room. He’d checked the sound twice and dimmed the lights just enough so he could still see you.

Once he was satisfied, he dropped into the big recliner with you and immediately reached for you, tugging you close beside him. His fingers laced through yours instinctively.

“It’s her first real lead in a film. I wanna see what she does with it.”

You curled into him as he kept talking— babbling, really, about all of the different facets of the film he was excited about. He gestured to the cover of the VHS tape and said,

“And this guy Tupac. He’s really something special too. I saw Juice while I was waiting for this one y’know. Not really my type of film, but he was great. Good music too, he really cares about people.” He nodded to himself as he studied the cover of the VHS.

“You been listening’ to Pac, baby?” You couldn’t help but giggle to yourself. When it came to music, Michael did not discriminate. He listened to it all, it was important to him to stay up to date on what the kids were listening to.

Then he looked over at you, making sure you were locked in like he was.

“I know people think I stay in my own world, but I pay attention. I know what’s going on out there. The music, the films, the culture… I see it.” He gave your hand a little squeeze, soft and sure. “This one is special cause it’s my baby sister up there with him. I want her to be great.”

The lights went all the way down and Michael shifted closer, arm settling around your shoulders and thumb already stroking absently along your arm. He was quiet now, focused. Adorning that same concentrated look he always got when something really mattered to him.

On the screen the movie began, and for a while he was completely into it. He happily munched on his popcorn and smiled to himself every time Janet came on screen, nodding a little at certain lines, completely proud and present.

Then the scene came.

Janet looked at Tupac on the big screen and said, clear as day:

“Let’s cut the bullshit. What you really want from me? You wanna smell this punani?”

Michael’s whole body went still next to you. Instantly, he felt his face warm with embarrassment. It happened so quickly you actually felt the temperature change next to you. His head snapped toward you, eyes wide, mouth slightly open in shock like a little boy who just heard someone say a bad word.

“…What did she just say?”

Before you could spare him, he was already grabbing the remote and rewinding it. Next to him, you watched in amusement as you watched the gears turn. He was clearly using his context clues.

“What does that mean?” he asked, voice a little higher than usual. You couldn’t hold it. The laugh came out sharp and full-bellied. Michael stared at you in bewilderment while his baby sister talked about punani ten feet tall on the screen. He felt like he was the only one not in on the joke.

“You never heard that before, Mike?” you managed between laughs.

“No!” He looked genuinely scandalized, tips of his ears surely turning pink. “I’ve never heard my baby sister talk like that. We didn’t talk like that growing up. What is a— what did she call it?”

“Punani.”

He repeated it under his breath and the word rolled off his tongue like the word itself might get him in trouble. He continued staring at you wide eyed as he waited for you to elaborate.

“And that means…?”

You raised your eyebrows and gave him a look that said you’re kidding me right.

“Mike. You grew up with three sisters. No way you never heard none of this.”

“I didn’t! I haven’t!” He was giggling too now, prodding at your side with one of his long fingers. “C’mon, tell me what it means.” You sat up a little, grinning like this was your time to shine.

Then, you started counting on your fingers.

“Coochie. Coota Cat. Pum-pum. Fat ma. Punani…” You paused, then bounced your eyebrows at him. “Pussy.”

Instantly, Michael made a sound like the air had been knocked out of him and his hands flew up to cover his face.

“Oh my God. Janet Damita Jo Jackson” he whispered to himself.

The teasing didn’t stop once his embarrassment kicked in. You kept going, laughing as you gave him more context. You explained where some of the words came from and how common they were.

Michael still hadn’t taken his hands down. He peeked through his fingers once, eyes wide and shining with pure scandalized curiosity. immediately, he covered his face again when you kept talking. He looked exactly like a little kid who’d just been told the real meaning of a word he wasn’t supposed to know.

“Stop,” he begged, still giggling, still hiding. “Baby, please— I can’t.” His whole face felt hot and and every new detail you gave only made it worse.

“How do you know all of this, girl?” He asked finally, pulling you closer to him by your hips.

“I was raised by Black women. What you thought?” Your voice had the “duh” tone laced all through it.

Michael was giggling but he still looked bewildered by the whole situation.

“How do you know so many different words for… it?”

“I told you. Black women. We got a whole thesaurus.”

After a stretch of silence he finally dropped his hands. His face was still warm, but that little mischievous spark had started to creep back in. He glanced at you sideways, trying— and failing to keep a straight face.

“I love your punani, baby” you smacked his shoulder and erupted into giggles. “Was that it? Did I use it right?”

Leaning in, you pressed soft wet kisses to his lips.

“Yes Mikey, that’s exactly how you use it” when you pulled away you were still squishing his cheeks. He looked at you with big doe eyes, hair falling slightly in his eyes and said,

“Growing up with brothers I thought I’d heard it all. I might have to call my mama…. Ask her if she ever heard of this punani. I need to know if this is something everybody knew but me.” He reflected for a moment then added, “Then ima tell her Janet out here sayin it on a movie screen… she not gon’ believe it.”

“Boy, don’t ask yo mama that! Ms. Katherine would have a heart attack!”

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

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