Pairings: Pre Off the Wall era! Michael x Wife! Reader
Warnings: Loss of virginity, minor insecurity, overstimulation, Michael loses control, squirting, he has a praise kink, michael talks you through it.
Synopsis: Long into your first night together as man and wife , Michaelâs sweet touch evolved into an unstoppable hunger.
Wc: 1,569
The air in the grand ballroom was thick with the scent of expensive lilies and old-world perfume. The year was 1978, and the wedding of the decade had just concluded. Michael looked breathtaking in his white tuxedo, his eyes never leaving you as you glided across the dance floor. To the world, he was the superstar, the voice of a generation, but as he pulled you flush against his chest for their first dance as husband and wife, he was just a man trembling with a desperate, overwhelming love for you.
As the music slowed, both of your family members began to filter out, leaving the two of you alone in the dim, golden light of the reception hall. The silence that followed was heavy with anticipation. Michael didnât let go⊠instead, he slid his hand down to the small of your back, pressing your hips firmly against his. He leaned in, his breath hot against your ear.
"I thought I was going to die during the vows," he whispered, his voice a soft, melodic vibration that sent shivers down your spine. "All I could think about was getting you alone. I want to feel every inch of you. I want to take you."
He began to move with you, not a dance anymore, but a slow, sensual grind. His hand wandered lower, cupping your rear and squeezing firmly, pulling you into the hard bump of his cock through the fabric of your wedding dress. You let out a soft moan, and the sound seemed to break something inside him. Michael whimpered, a small, needy sound, burying his face in the crook of your neck.
"Please," he breathed, his voice cracking. "Tell me you want me as much as I want you. I'm shaking, baby... I need you so bad."
The honeymoon house was a secluded haven where the rest of the world ceased to exist. In the master bedroom, the moonlight spilled across the silk sheets in pale, shimmering ribbons, casting a ghostly glow over the two of you. Michael was a wreck of nerves, his movements tentative and shaking as he helped you out of your dress. His fingers fumbled with the fastenings, his breath hitching every time his skin brushed yours. When the fabric finally pooled at your feet and you stood before him completely naked, the sight of you made him gasp. He stepped back for a heartbeat, his eyes wide with pure, unadulterated adoration, looking at you as if you were a miracle he wasn't worthy of touching.
He laid you down gently, his touch light and almost reverent, as if you were made of the finest porcelain. As he began to explore your body, his lips trailing a path of fire down your stomach, his voice became a constant, needy stream of soft pleas. "Is this okay? Do you like this?" he whispered against your skin, his voice trembling. "Tell me you love me, baby... please, I need to hear it."
When he finally positioned his hard, throbbing cock at your entrance, he paused. He didn't just push in; he stopped, resting his forehead against yours, their breaths mingling in the quiet room. He was trembling violently now, the sheer emotional weight of the moment crashing over him. "I want this to be perfect for you," he whimpered, a small, broken sound of desperation.
As he slowly pushed inside, the searing tightness of your pussy walls gripped him firmly. Michael let out a long, shaky groan of pleasure and effort, his muscles locking as he sank deeper into your heat. You gasped, your fingers digging deep into the muscles of his shoulders, and the sound of your first moan triggered something primal and starving within him.
"Yes... please, yes, moan for me," he pleaded, his voice breaking. He didn't rush; he moved with an agonizing slowness, savoring every millimeter of friction, his breaths coming in ragged, needy whimpers. He wasn't just taking your innocence as you took his, he was worshipping it.
He spent what felt like hours just moving shallowly, the head of his cock teasing your entrance while he showered your face in kisses. He begged for reassurance, his voice a frantic whisper, asking if he was making you feel good, if you could feel how much he loved you. His heart hammered like a trapped bird against your chest, the rhythm accelerating as the tension built to an unbearable peak. When he finally lost control, he drove deep one last time, spilling his warm cum inside you with a loud, desperate cry of your name that echoed through the velvet silence of the room.
Long into the night, the sweetness evolved into a hunger. Michael had discovered how sensitive your body was, and it had become an obsession. He found you in the kitchen getting a snack, and before you could speak, he had you hoisted onto the counter, your night dress pushed up to your waist.
He didn't go for the penetration immediately. He spent an hour with his tongue, licking and sucking your clit with a rhythmic intensity that had you screaming. He was vocal, moaning loudly into your folds, whimpering when you arched your back.
"You're so wet for me... look at how much you want it," he gasped, looking up at you with blown-out pupils. When he finally slid inside, the friction was electric. He began to pump into you with a newfound urgency, his voice cracking as he begged you to tell him how good it felt. He pushed you to the edge over and over, refusing to let you finish until he had you sobbing his name, finally letting you peak in a violent explosion that left him shaking and spent.
By the next morning, Michaelâs stamina had become tireless. He didn't just want sex, he wanted to consume you. He trapped you against the bedroom wall, his hands gripping your thighs and hoisting them around his waist.
"I can't get enough of you," he whimpered, his voice strained. "I need to be inside you every second of every day."
He fucked you with a raw, desperate energy, his hips slamming against yours with wet, slapping sounds. He was constantly talking, his singer's voice modulating between deep growls and high, needy whimpers. "Tell me I'm yours... tell me you'll never leave me."
He discovered that by flicking your clit while thrusting deep, he could make you lose control. You came three times in a row, your body shaking, but he didn't stop. He kept driving into you, his eyes locked on yours, obsessed with the way your walls clamped around him. He filled you to the brim, his cum pulsing deep inside you as he sobbed into your shoulder, overwhelmed by the intensity of his bond with you.
The obsession had shifted into something more intense. Your body had become so attuned to him that the mere sight of him made you ache. Once afternoon came, he walked into the room and simply brushed his hand against your inner thigh, you let out a sharp gasp.
When he pushed you back onto the bed and entered you in one smooth, deep thrust, the sensation was too much. The instant your walls closed around his cock, you screamed, your body snapping into a violent orgasm. A huge spray of fluid erupted from you, soaking his thighs and the sheets.
Michael froze, his eyes widening. "Did you... did you just cum from me just entering you?" he whispered, his voice trembling with excitement.
He didn't pull out. He began to move, and every single thrust triggered another wave. You were squirting uncontrollably, the bed becoming a lake of your juices. Michael was losing his mind, whimpering and moaning with every splash, his voice breaking as he realized he had total control over your pleasure. "You're so sensitive... my sweet, sensitive girl. I'm going to make you squirt until you're empty."
The final stage of his obsession was the desire to leave a permanent mark. He pinned you to the plush carpet of the living room, his eyes dark with a singular focus. He didn't just want pleasure; he wanted a family.
"I hmm- want to fill you," he whimpered, his voice a soft, needy rasp. "I want eighteen children, baby. Eighteen little versions of us. I need to fill you until your belly is round and you can't think of anything but my seed inside you."
He entered you with a brutal, possessive force, pushing deep into your cervix. Every time he hit that spot, you creamed, lubricating his cock as he hammered into you. He was vocal, pleading and begging, his voice cracking. "Please, take it all... take every drop. I want to plant a baby in you right now. Tell me you want my babies! Tell me you want to me to fill you!"
He didn't stop even when you were shaking from overstimulation, pushing through your climaxes with a relentless rhythm. As he reached his peak, he gripped your hips so hard he left bruises, letting out a loud shout as he unloaded a massive amount of cum deep inside your womb, whimpering with a mixture of love and lust, promising to do it again and again until his dream of eighteen children was a reality.
It had been a month since she had her first encounter with Michael and they been talking over the phone since the second time they seen each other they been getting along and hitting it off he got comfortable with her but shy at certain times they had little nick names all cute and stuff at this point they been talking for a month now obviously and be talking on the phone for almost a month.
They both couldnât stop thinking abt each other theyâve practically fell for each other.
(but itâs not finna move all fast)
They had a lot of getting to know to do they planned on maybe doing something this weekend weather it was going to one otherâs house or going out to a movie and ice cream they had a lot in common but they clicked so well that it was a type of bond you guys feel like youâve been friends for 6 months to a year
Michael was a perfect example of the guy she wanted in her life she seen him sang songs for her and it was wonderful she always told him he should push in the crowd and show them what heâs got and donât regret it later Michael had her wrapped around his finger and she had him wrapped around hers.
Rae closes the shop down she turns the lock feeling the familiar weight of the keys in her hand.
Stepping into the cool evening air the city hummed a promise of the weekend.the cars rumbling by added to the atmosphere the amber glow of the lights nicely hit the streets yes it wasnât too late but it was pretty the faint music humming from a nearby club caught her attention.
Michaelâs mind
Rae was soft and a conversational
Person that he hadnât seen in his life before she was sweet and caring but she gonna catch you on your bullshit, he likes that in a girl he Could go on and on he told her few friends and his brothers including Jermaine.
See he wouldnât talk about a girls body like a toy no never but he couldnât help but bring it up the 6 Polaroid pictures they had tooken together she was pretty and cool Rae never was trying to get on with him like ya know keep him around only because he was a good listener and he like that he trusted her so much he told her everything from his abusive father to how he keeps tryna get him to perform with his brother and having to practice a lot and she listened and replied back with her story her own abusive dad and she still kept in touch but soon heâd need some one to watch over him because now heâs getting older and a bit nuts, tho his bones was still good at 47 going on 48.
They prayed together when needed and help each other all in 31 days.
Rae walked behind the shop where her car waited alone no one else there as she twisted her keys into the lock opening her door looking around enjoying her surroundings as she got into her car starting it up as the engine rowing to the quiet air .
She drives with the city melting away in her rearview mirror before she knew it the neighborhood became familiar with the surroundings and houses as she pulled up to her apartment building it was quiet now and a little dark, she went up to her apartment twisting the key and sighing.
âAnother long annoying week down.â
Rae the felt something slip in front of her as she moved her shoe
She look with a raised eyebrow as she saw a flyer she bent down picking it up the flashy red purple and silver taking over the paper it we beautifully designed with a few with stars.
âMove that body rock with your friends and partner and DONT BLAME IT ON THE BOOGIEâ she read aloud scanning it. She thought about it then her phone rang and she walked over picking up the copra phone putting it to her ear..
Letâs just say it was Liza her friend and it ALSO had something to do with the club. Do I really have to say what happened?
Stepping in to the dim pulsating club and surrounded by the pulsating crowd she felt a wave of confidence and excitement washing over her as her dazzling dress blue shimmered nice calmly but beautifully turning a few heads with 2 compliments as she darted her eyes to Liza in the crowd the club blasted one of her favorites from the record store back at home. But tonight it was time to get wasted and have fun with her dancing and grooving Liza.
8:57
After an hour this one song had đŸđđŸđđđđđŸ đđđđđ đđ đđđŸ đœđșđđŒđŸ đżđ đđđ girls moving their hips butts every where and there was a person taking everyoneâs attention as he did a move and dancing his eyes closed, with realizing his moves spread voices around the club and murmuring weather it was he was fine or his moves were so captivating drawing the eyes of everyone including Rae as her widely known this face.
đđŒđ¶đ»đŽđžđż?
A tap on the shoulder turned his head immediately stoping his tracks as he saw the beautiful body and dress the pair of eyes and brown skin curly hair weave looking bouncy,But wait it was..
đ đŽđž?
âI had no idea you could dance like that Michealâ a smile plastered on his face âoh so it took your eye?â
Rae let out a little laugh looking in his eyes wetting her lips before she spoke
âItâs hard to miss someone who dances like they are floating on air hun..but please donât let it go to your head Michael.â
Michael Chuckles âwell I kinda got carried away, embarrassed is my emotion. I never think when I dance thatâs a common mistake people make but I guess it also comes with a little consequence.â
He looked around realizing the people the were staring after his few first words.
But she kept looking at him the big Afro and pretty boy smile
âYour smile is so cute.â Her mouth moved before her brain could process DID SHE REALLY JUST SAY THAT? Dammit Rae. Michael smiled like a goofy even more he got a compliment from this beautiful lady? Oh he was a virgin but maybe it would change.
The world around them seemed to stop as they look around breaking eye contact they swear everything was still as he took her hand leading her to a more open and private part of the club as they danced and danced Michael saw something in her pop,r&b music dancing her hips beautifully moving smoothly it could use just a few weeks of work it was lovely and his shyness went away as he moved her hips against his good thing he had some self control and women respect his hands running over her body, damn did Michael Jackson have a tender touch her ass moving against his crotch, loving the attention
âMichael I donât think we should do this in a club I donât wanna be too loudâ
He lifts her dress up looking up at her before looking at her wet spot on those teal lace panties literally seeing the outline of her pussy from the juices sticking to her lips (bottom lips ofc)
He pulls them down pretty very pretty and we all thought he was shy?.. he open her legs pushing them back against her chest bending his head done taking in the sent his tongue rolling up and down her slit his fingers slowly spreading the fats of the lips suck her sensitive clit. her moaning? Taking over the whole back room Rae gripped anything in sight a couch, leather couch the scratching mixing on with the slurping.
âMichael itâs too much Iâm gonn-â
YES her voice cut off by Michael slipping his finger in her pussy curling up inside of her she felt something she thought sheâd never feel she screamed loudly legs shaken up as the lake came,the squirt went right in this mouth her eyes shut her mouth hangs open
The pleasure washing over her god Michael was shocked he got the same result heâd heard his brothers talking about. yes this was Michaelâs first but he learned a lot from tv and listening he licked her up once more before kissing her gently as she wrapped her legs around him.
Pt3??
And much more but we will finish another time ladies and gentlemen
Most of the warning are NOT in this story since this is part one leave a like!
Tell me if any errors are spotted!
5PM 1977.
(This also has Mention of the song candy rain by soul 4 real and it came out in the 90s so we gon act like itâs out now instead OKAY?)
It was an afternoon beautiful evening itâs all a person would wanna wake up to in the morning or afternoon,like Rae did.
The record shop was nostalgic âcome and find your old favoritesâ is what the sign said on the window.
Rae was tired and most definitely desperately needed and waited to get off her shift sheâs been working at the record shop for 9 months now and she sees alot of regular customers come in and out the shop with the little ring of the bell whenever it opens her pop music playing on the low sound speakers .
Ding ding- A gust of freezing Chicago wind swept into the shop along with him making the paper record sleeves rustle. Rae immediately looked at the door fixing her posture she had to be professional with this.
Tall around 5â9 big Afro and a red sweat shirt that had Mickey Mouse on it and jeans. she looked at him wondering who the fuck this tall childish boy was. The boy looked up, staring for about 2 seconds before quickly looking away and going straight to the aisle with the trendy stuff.Rae shrugged, not wanting to stare and look thirsty since she doesnât know him.
âThe snacks are on left aisle A3 sir! .â
At the sound of her voice the boy practically jumped his shoulders tensing under the red sweatshirt. He didn't look back at her, but he gave a tiny, incredibly soft nod to let her know he heard her, his fingers nervously tracing the edge of a record sleeve.
he comes up to the counter has 2 bags of chips and 3 records.
âThereâs a donation drive going on for kids that need care and help so we are trying to raise 10 thousand, would you like to please put up to 1-30 dollars in here?â Rae said pointing to the quite large glass box full of cash half way she also gets a good look at his face he had some pimples but he was fine AS HELL.
But she rather use the word beautiful, He was very beautiful she starts to feel a bit bad for judging when he first walked in. She hadnât even noticed he put 60 dollars in the large box sheâs busy staring at him.
âAreâŠum are you okay;â he looked at her name tag then went to finish her sentence âRae?â
âOh fuck, yea Iâm okay. I just was looking at a stupid bug.â
Liar and he knew so.
Rae notices the quiet silence filling up the air making it suffocating man if the ground could swallow her right n-
âI donât wanna be rude but I got somewhere to go..â he manages to get out not wanting to come off as rude ofc he overthinks.
Rae smiles and takes his records
âOh candy rain I love this song so much Iâve been listening to it when I can.â Rae spoke softly to him
The boy was a bit shy but it went away just a tiny bit as he tapped his finger on his side of the counter not looking at her while talking
âReally..? Iâve heard it t-twice but I want one of my own now.
Iâm Michael by the way. I think i will be here often from now on itâs nice in here.â After he spoke he looked at her a little bit
âIâm glad you like it here in this small placeâ Rae looked behind her counter remembering the little Mickey Mouse stuff plush she had that someone left on the shelf by accident 2 months ago, she reached down picking it up putting it in the counter.
âI see your sweat shirt, you must like Mickey? I found this a little while ago and gave it a clean do you want it?â
She watched Michaels smile come on his face as he bit his lips a tiny bit not wanting to act like a child he has to be aware people already tell him he acts like a child. he slowly took it and looked at Rae.
âI really like this. Itâs cool thanks uh..Raeâ
They talk for about ten more minutes before he leaves. Rae did not want him to leave to be honest.. then she thought to herself
Synopsis: After finding out about your husband's career, you're sucked into a life of reckless decisions and criminal activities. What's next for you, and how far will you go to protect your man? Read pt1 here
Pairing: Mafia boss!Michael Jackson x fem!Reader
Word Count: 4.7k
Warnings: Sexual content, smut and gun violence.
Drea's note: This is definitely a multi-part story now, recommendations are welcome and so is criticism! Drea don't bite :)
October 31th, 1935
21:00
Halloween, the night of spook and scare, where everyone dresses up as anyone or anything they please, and dress you they did. As you walk around the busy streets of Chicago with your girls, you take in the sight of everyone around, dancing, singing and chatting amongst each other. The streets are decorated with jack-o'-lanterns and all sorts of scary props.
âLetâs check out this club!â One of your friends pipes up as you fix your polka-dot skirt while dressed as Minnie Mouse.
You merely nod as you follow her and the rest of your friends, clearly not in the mood to be outside tonight.
Your friends had forced you out of the night, having been tired of watching you cry over whatever happened between you and your husband. You didnât tell them what had conspired a month ago or what he had told you about his life and career. All you said was that you two were going through a rough patch and that you needed space. Nothing too descriptive to put him in line of trouble with the authorities. Even in the midst of your anger, you still chose to protect him.
You follow Daphne, Alana, and Keisha to a club. As you walk, a man runs past you, bumping into Daphne before giving a short apology and continuing to run into the alleyway of a nearby building.
âAsshole!â Daphne yells and shakes her head as she dusts herself off.
Three calm men walk past you a couple of moments later, their demeanour a sharp contrast compared to the lively scene in the streets. Two of them are only wearing masks â a shameful attempt at a Halloween costume. One, at least, is dressed as some type of feline, a leopard maybe. His black curls are pinned up to make cat ears, while his suit ends with a long furry tail attached to his backside. You giggle at the sight, not used to seeing men playing into the cat archetype, even for costume days like the one. Before you can comment about it to your friends, Keisha holds your hand and motions for you to follow her into a bustling nightclub filled with well-dressed men and women. The music is loud and upbeat, instantly putting you into a trans. Your hips sway to the beat with ease, you, Daphne, Alana, and Keisha losing yourselves to the rhythm.
Outside, those three men who passed you a few minutes ago continue to follow the man who bumped into Daphne. Their pace is controlled so as not to draw attention to them when they swerve through hot and sweaty bodies in the street. Soon enough, they turn to the alleyway that the man ran into, finding him trying â and failing â to climb up the barbed-wire fence.
The man dressed as a cat tilts his head at the sight and chuckles darkly, his eyes narrowing under his mask. His hands rest on the pistol strapped to his hips, legs spread apart in a dominating stance. The two other masked men behind him stand similarly, their arms crossed as they watch the other man slip off the fence again.
âQuit it,â the feline says snappily, âI told you what would happen if you didnât pay what you owed.â
The scared man stands up straight now, not attempting to climb the fence. Heâs petrified, eyes bloodshot and wide open as he faces the three men before him.
âIâm sorry, sir. I promise I will get you yourââ
The manâs words are cut as one masked man holds his hands behind his back, pushing him down to his knees.
âListen here, Kenny. Your name is Kenny, yes?â The feline asks, holding his gun up now. âYou had one job: get the gold from point A to B. Did you do that?â
Kenny shakes his head frantically, âNo! No, I didnât. Iâm sorry, please! I have a familyâ
âWell, you should have thought of your family before stealing from me.â The feline comments in a mocking tone, âI happen to have a family myself, a beautiful wife who I provide the moon and the stars for, but you, you decided to steal what I trade those things for. Thatâs why weâre in this mess, ainât it?â
âY-yes! Iâm sorry! Iâm so, so sorry. Please! Iâll return your goods to you!â Kenny pleas.
âAnd how will you do that? The authorities seized my gold from your custody. What will you do, hmm? Break into the vaults like a Japanese ninja?â The feline chuckles darkly, shaking his head.
A pause passes through the four men before the man on his knees speaks again: âIâll do anything to make up for it! Just please donât hurt my family!â
âYour family? Oh, goodness, I would never.â The feline-dressed man speaks with a forced pout on his lips, the mask hiding his expression, though itâs obvious in his tone. âThis has nothing to do with your family, Kenny. This is all on you.â
The feline swings his pistol in his hands, the golden gun glistening in the soft light from across the street. Kenny shakes on the ground, fear rushing through his veins like a cheap dose of snow would.
âHereâs whatâs going to happen, Kenny,â the feline starts, âIâm not in a very good mood. See, my wife found out about my occupation and left the house a few weeks ago. I was planning on using the gold you stole from me to make her something nice. You know? Get on my knees and beg for her forgiveness, all that jazz, but I canât do that now, can I?â
Kenny shakes his head.
âSo, Iâm going to make you eat a bullet for troubling me.â The feline speaks, his voice rough and enraged. He places the nozzle of his shiny pistol in Kennyâs mouth, licking his lips as if this is all amusing to him.
Kennyâs face falls, all the blood in his face draining and leaving him pale as a ghost, as if already dead. His mouth tastes the cold metal of the gun, eyes fixed on the leopard-dressed man. The two other masked men stay silent, already preparing an escape route as soon as their leader pulls the trigger. One of them works easily to cut open the chains of the fence Kenny tried climbing over, while the other holds Kenny down, ready for the blood splatter to hit his legs.
22:00
You continue dancing with your girls, semi-drunk from all the free drinks men have bought you. The music is blurring into one, consistent noise, muffling all the rage and angst you once felt about Michael.
âLook at you, girl!â Keisha cheers from behind you as you both bounce to the beat.
The night seems to be going great. Alcohol, candy and music fill your body as it moves with everyone else in the club. As the music continues, a sharp pop erupts from outside. Everyone in the club pauses for a second before carrying on to the rhythm of the beat. You, however, canât shake the feeling that something bad has just happened.
âHey, relax. It was probably a firework that went off too early.â Daphne yells over the music, holding your hand as she jumps.
âYeah, Iâm sure thatâs all it was,â Alana repeats, holding her 3rd martini.
23:00
An hour passes as you and your girls hop from club to club, enjoying the different spooky vibes curated to each building. Youâre sitting down at around this time, watching Keisha flirt with a tall man by the bar. Alana is drunk now, bouncing her body to the sound of her favourite song while Daphne bickers with a lady whoâs dressed exactly like her â you told her that the whole bunny look would be popular tonight, but she hadnât listened.
You huff and watch people all over the club, kissing, dancing, eating candy and even doing things that should definitely be kept in the bedroom. Eyes are closed, bodies move in dazed unison, and hearts thump to the beat of the drums. A few bodies enter and exit the club here and there, some drunk or high, some dragging their significant others to dark corners to touch deeper.
A man catches the attention of a few eyes; the same man who you saw earlier. Women âoohâ and giggle in a flirting manner while men eye him with curiosity. His leopard tail swings as he sways his hips to the music, raising his hands in a fluid motion to swing them to the rhythm. You chuckle and roll your eyes at the sight, pressing your legs together as you watch the masked man lose himself to the everlasting music.
âCan you see that man over there?â You point, and Alana looks up drunkenly.
âHa! Thatâs a first,â she laughs a little, âitâs hot though, ainât it?â
You look the man up and down. Youâre a drunk now, so your eyes roam his body as he swings his hips without a care. That goddanm tail sways like a snake attracting its prey. Without thinking, you stand up and slowly walk over to the man, gently pushing past the bodies that stand between you and the slim feline you want to be close to. The alcohol is definitely playing a role in boosting your confidence. When you reach him, you stare up at his masked face, the music slipping into a more sultry tune.
The feline looks at you and pauses for a short moment. His smile widens into a devious smirk beneath the mask.
He recognises that beautiful face.
Youâre drunk, thatâs clear as day, no wonder you havenât recognised him yet. Does he play into that or toy with you for a little longer?
Heâs going to toy with you.
âYou like it?â His voice is loud enough to be heard over the music, swinging his hips to show off his tail.
You bite your lower lip and nod, eyes fixed on his hips, fluid and loose.
Thereâs something so familiar about those hips, how they swing to the rhythm of the night, how fluid they are, and their lean shape under those leopard print pants. But youâre too drunk to piece it together.
âHold it.â He speaks right by your ear, bending down to whisper softly to you, his mouth still stuck in a smirk.
Your hands slowly move towards the tail, holding it between your warm palms. The fur is delicate, tickling your soft skin as you stroke it. The man is halfway turned away from you, watching you play with his prop. If only you knew what that was doing to him.
âNaughty girl,â he gently takes the tail away from you and begins dancing again.
You sway your hips with him, holding the tail in a way that has your arms wrap around his waist. He chuckles and shakes his head, wondering how long itâll take for you to recognise him.
âMaybe I should take the mask off.â He thinks to himself.
âCome with me, naughty one,â he holds his hand out to you, mask still on, smirk still hiding behind it.
You know you shouldnât accept his offer. In your mind, heâs a stranger, and youâre still married.  Youâre well aware that his outstretched hand is an invitation to a sin you vowed never to commit. But who cares? Your husband is a killer; he doesnât deserve your loyalty after thatâŠright?
November 1st, 1935
00:00
The feline leads you upstairs to the VIP section of the club. Your hands stay wrapped around his tail. drunkenly stroking it without a care. When you pass the table you once occupied, Alana raises an eyebrow at you, nudging Keisha â who now sits with the tall man â to look in your direction. They both exchange knowing looks, wondering how far you and this catlike man will go once youâre alone.
You reach the top of the stairs and walk towards a separate VIP room, watching the slim man hand a bartender a large wad of money to book the section off for you both. Once inside, the door closes, and heâs on you with pace. His hands roam your body, squeezing your hips and thighs, humming softly against your neck. His mask is still on as he lifts your leg to rest it over his hip, unbuckling his pants before ripping the thin stockings youâre wearing. A heavy piece of metal you felt while dancing with him hits the ground with his pants. Your core is exposed now, and he revels in it, running a rough index finger between your soaked lips.
âStill donât recognise me, naughty girl?â He speaks as he presses your back against the cool brick wall behind you.
You donât respond; instead, you hold his large length in your hands, lining it up with your entrance.
âAnswer me, darlinâ.â He holds his mask, ready to take it off.
âIâŠknow who you are,â your heartbeat speeds up at the nickname, finally realising who he is, âbut I donât need formalities. Fuck me.â
Michaelâs breath hitches for the first time youâve ever known him, your tone taking him aback. Without hesitation, he pushes his hard cock into your heat, giving you a few seconds to adjust to him before he thrusts into you at a tantalising pace. Your bodies roll together, slow and sweet as he pushes himself deeper and deeper into you. Your back arches as he lifts you completely off the ground, thrusting faster into your wet cunt.
âFuck, darlinâ. I missed ya.â He groans into your neck, hands gripping your waist tightly to keep you up.
âShutâah!â You moan as he hits your sweet spot, âShut up.â
Michael groans, pulling off the mask in a swift motion before throwing it to the ground. He looksâŠtired, exhausted even, but he looks at you with soft eyes as he thrusts reverently into your warm core.
âI have much to say, darlinâ,â Michael whispers into your ear, thrusting faster, stretching you out like he used to before it all fell apart. âLet me speak, please, my love.â
Your mouth hangs open as drunken moans of pleasure slip out of it. You wrap your hands around Michaelâs neck, holding onto him for dear life as he pushes you closer and closer to the edge. Every thrust feels like a silent plea for you to hear him out, to listen to whatever he has to say, but youâre too drunk for that now, and quite frankly, you donât care.
âMmnghâ Michael!â You whimper, your chin resting atop his head, squashing one of his cat ears, but he doesnât pay it any mind. His moves are fluid, his hips snapping like waves in the ocean. He presses you harder against the wall, pulling you down an inch to fully put his cock in you.
âThatâs it, sweet thing. Let go for me, let go.â He groans, looking up at you with softness you missed in the month apart. How a man could look so innocent while rearranging your insides still makes no sense to you, but here Michael Jackson was, doing exactly that.
Your eyes squeeze shut as your warm walls suddenly flutter uncontrollably around his pulsing dick. Loud cries of pleasure escape your open mouth, though the thought of you being heard by someone outside doesnât bother you at all. Your orgasm lasts for a few long moments, and Michael continues to push into you. His moves are sloppy now, fishing for his own pleasurable release. He groans your name ever so often through soft moans of his own before finally finishing deep inside of you.
When he puts you down, he keeps his mouth shut, lifting his pants up and buckling his belt before secretly strapping his gun on his hip again. You attempt to make yourself presentable as well, completely taking off the ripped stockings and deciding to go commando for the rest of the night. Michael picks up his mask and holds it between his slim fingers, watching how your gaze stays off of him now.
âDarlinâââ he starts.
âNo. not tonight.â You cut him off, your hand held up in a defensive manner. Michael, however, doesnât listen.
âYou must understand, I did not wish to tell you about my life the way I did. Please, my loveâŠâ Heâs at a loss for words, noticing your reserved demeanour. Without another word, he slips his mask back on and stands up straight, watching you leave the room with your ripped stocking in your hand.
00:25
âNow, woman, what in the world?â Daphneâs eyes widen at the sight of your stockings, her lips curl into a naughty smile as he pieces together what youâve done upstairs. âWas it good?â
You nod and look at your skirt as you sit, âIt was Michael.â
The girls gasp and look at each other in shock. You look up and see Michael trot down the stairs alone, heading directly to the dance floor to continue where he left off half an hour ago.
âYouâre telling me that that leopard over there is your husband? As in the man who only speaks in single sentences when I talk to him?â Keisha scoffs, rolling her eyes as she watches a woman attempt to throw herself at Michael.
âYes, that Michael.â You respond and look at the dance floor too. An uninteresting chatter between your friends breaks out as you stare at Michael, their voices fading into the music while your eyes roam over his dancing figure.
A large masked man pushes through the crowd toward Michael. When he reaches the feline, he whispers something in Michaelâs ear, stopping Michaelâs dancing. The two men stare at each other for a few moments before they swiftly make their way out of the club. You ask yourself why theyâd make such a rushed exit, your drunk mind racing for any answer.
01:00
The sound of sirens emerges from outside the club, and a dozen police officers barge into it without warning, completely stopping the celebrations. The band stops playing, and the crowd murmurs amongst themselves about why the authorities are here. Six policemen walk around the club, clearly looking for someone, while 5 others begin questioning a few dancers. The remaining officer stands on the band stage and speaks into the microphone.
âOur apologies for disturbing your celebrations. We are in pursuit of an individual.â He begins. âA man who is reportedly dressed in a catlike costume is wanted for murdering a man just a few blocks from this very club. Anyone with information on his whereabouts is encouraged to share such information with authorities now, and to the rest of you, I encourage you to head home. We do not know if this man will kill again tonight.â
What. The. Fuâ
3 November 1935
14:00
You storm into your shared home, having not been there for so long. You look for Michael with your heart thumping in your chest.
âMichael?!â You yell as you walk through the large doors, jogging into the large living room and then the kitchen. âMichael?â
You look around and see Diane.
âMrs Jackson! Itâs good to see you again,â she exclaims with a warm smile.
âWhereâs Michael, Diane?â You ignore her pleasantry and dart your eyes around the house.
âOhâŠdid you not get word from Bill?â Diane enquires with a small frown as she folds fresh laundry. You notice the leopard costume folded neatly on the ironing board.
âWhat word?â You pause.
âMrs Jackson⊠Mr Jackson was arrested last night. Three policemen came round and put him in handcuffs without much explanation.â
Your eyes widen, and you freeze. Every fibre in your being sizzles at the news, stuck between running out of the house towards the station and staying there where youâre safe.
âWhat did they say?â You ask.
âThey said they were arresting him under suspicion of murder, Mrs Jackson. As I heard it, a man was executed on Halloween night in the city.â Diane explains as she folds a pair of socks
The sharp pop you heard that night, the hard metal around his waist before you made loveâŠItâs all coming together now. No matter how upset you are, heâs your husband; you need to protect him.
You must protect him.
Your hands pick up the leopard costume, heading towards the fireplace without a second word to Diane. She curiously follows you, keeping a safe distance.
âMrs Jacksonââ She starts, but she gasps, her eyes fixed on you tossing the costume â along with the mask and tail â into the fireplace before pouring whiskey on top of it and lighting it up.
âListen, Diane, you must promise me something.â Your face is stern but not unkind. âYou must promise that if the police come here, you do not tell them about what I just did.â
Diane nods frantically, clasping the fireplace poker, turning the clothes to help them burn evenly. You rub your face as you realise she may know more than sheâs letting on, but you donât probe, too busy worrying about Michael.
15:05
Bill drops you off at the police station, having driven you reluctantly after almost an hour of you nagging him about it.
âMrs Jackson, Michael told me not to take you there.â He had said before giving in.
âMichael Jackson. Iâm looking for Michael Jackson.â You walk into the station and speak directly to the desk clerk, your eyes fixed on the hallway of cells on the right
âAnd who might you be, maâam?â The man spoke in a calm and somewhat annoyed tone.
âIâm his wife.â You speak bluntly, and the clerk goes through documents on the table.
âMaâam, Michael Jackson is currently being held in the corrections facility. He has been charged with murder and will be held there until his trial or until bail is met.â
Your heart drops to your belly, breath coming out in shaky puffs. Your husband is in jailâŠlocked up like someâ
âThank you,â you shake your head and walk out to the car where Bill waits, âBill, heâs in prison.â
Bill nods solemnly, helping you into the car before starting the engine, âI suppose you want me to drive you there, maâam?â
âYes. Swiftly, please.â
15:30
Both you and Bill walk through the guarded corridors of the prison, wardens sizing you up with bitter looks; perhaps wearing your expensive fur coat and LV heels wasnât such a good idea.
âYou really shouldnât be here, maâam,â Bill whispers to you, feeling uncomfortable about bringing his bossâs wife to a prison, of all places.
âI must see him. I must, Bill.â
A warden opens the door to an interrogation room. One table and two chairs occupy the small, poorly lit room. You look around and see Michael standing in the corner with a cigarette in his mouth.
âMichael.â You run toward him and wrap your arms around his neck, squeezing him in a tight hug before pressing your lips to his in a slow kiss. He reluctantly hugs you back, trying his best to hide his anger about you being in this classless place.
âDarlinâ, why are you here, hmm?â He asks you, his gaze fixed disappointedly on Bill for disobeying his orders.
You pull back from him and take a step back, looking at the awful orange jumpsuit they put him in. Your frown deepens as the reality of the situation sinks in.
âNot my colour, right?â He snorts, inhaling a long puff of smoke from the cigarette. How can he be joking right now?
âTch, what is the matter with you? Youâre in prison, Michael. This is not the time for senseless quips.â
Michael scoffs and sits on one of the chairs by the table, watching you from the corner of his eye. You walk towards him and sit on the other chair, eyes fixed on his carefree stature. Itâs as if none of this is bothering him at all; in fact, he looks comfortable, happy even.
âIâm fine, darlinââ, he starts calmly, âEverythingâs fine.â
You shake your head and take a deep breath. âYouâre in prison for murderââ
âI killed nobody.â He interjects softly, flat-out lying.
âWell, the police think you have,â you scoff, âlook at where you are, what youâre wearing.â
âThe police?â He laughs bitterly, and Bill shakes his head by the door as if sensing where this conversation is going. âDarlinâ, you have no clue how deep my influence runs, do you?â
You slump in the chair, eyes shut as you reign in your frustration. Your heartbeat quickens at the insinuation heâs making. The small lightbulb in the room flickers a couple of times before staying on again. Bill stands behind you as still as ever, clearing his throat as he senses the thick, tense air between you and Michael.
âWhat are you saying?â
âWhat do you think Iâm saying?â Michael tilts his head, face twisting into amusement as if entertained by your naive questioning.
A pause.
Another pause
Michael smiles, winking at you when he sees your face contort with emotions. Youâre not angry anymore, not even sad, but another third thing you canât place your finger on.
âHow much?â You ask.
âAll of it.â He points to his hand, closing it to symbolise his hold on something â everything really.
âGood god, Michael,â you push out of your chair and pace around the room, your hands flying up to your face, cupping it in absolute shock, âWhat else? Who else?â
Michael sighs quietly, a soft pang of guilt rushing through him. He should have been honest with you about all of this before he married you, before you fell in love with you. He knows you inside and out. He knows youâre all in with him, even if itâs something as criminal as this. That fact alone makes his chest ache with reverence for you, knowing very well that youâd do anything to keep him safe, even if it means committing a crime yourself.
Like burning up evidence.
âChicagoâs mayor, CPD, stores, clubs, schoolsâŠâ He relaxes in his chair. âEverything.â
Your mouth falls open. Who the actual fuck did you marry?
Bill shifts on his feet as we watch the entire thing unfold. He had advised Michael to fill you in on all of this as soon as he began courting you, but being the stubborn man he is, Michael postponed over and over again, until he completely forgot about it altogether.
âSo, why are you here then? In prison like some lowlife crook.â You enquire with a breathless voice, sitting down again.
Michael takes a moment to reply, his mouth twitching in annoyance; not at you, but something else. He looks at Bill, who nods before fixing his large eyes on you.
âBecause someone decided to defy me,â his jaw ticks, âThat man they found in the alleyâŠâ
Michael stands, walking to you before crouching beside the chair you occupy.
ââŠwell, you seem to know who did that, donât you?â Michael coos softly, and you nod. âI have a rat roaming my streets, darlinâ.â
You sigh and run a hand through his messy curls, âMichaelâŠwhat have you gotten me into?â
He ignores your question, âIâm going to find my rat.â
âHow?â You question his plan.
Michael motions his hands around the room and the prison. Heâs clearly got a plan here, but you're finding it difficult to piece it together in your non-criminal head.
âEvery rat has a family, yes?â He explains, and you nod, âMy rat happens to house is shitty family in here. Theyâre scum of the earth who commit foolish crimes and get themselves incarcerated for petty offences.â
A pause.
âNow you can imagine how idiotic this rat was for bringing me here, in his house, where I control those in chargeâŠwhere I can get rid of rodents if they enter my cell, for instance.â He licks his lips and stands up.
âI did something really bad,â you admit, and Michael shakes his head in disagreement, somehow knowing what youâre referring to. Perhaps Bill informed him of the little fire you burned this afternoon.
âThey have nothing on that case, darlinâ. I need you to stay out of this from now on. Do you understand? Stay away from the prison, too. I do not want to see you here again.â
You stand and reach out for him, but he stops you.
âI love you, darlinâ. Iâll be home soon.â
Michael whistles, and a warden enters the room, cuffing Michael before leading him out into the depths of the prison, plotting his first rodent extermination.
Synopsis: Your loving husband is not as honest as he claims to be. Tonight, you find out exactly what he's been hiding.
Pairing: Mafia boss!Michael Jackson x fem!Reader
Word Count: 9.1K
Warnings: Some swearing. Michael is nonchalant here ewww
Drea's note: I had so much fun writing this! Constructive criticism and suggestion are welcome in my inbox. Thank you for the request, babe. <3
March 1st, 1932
22:00
You take a deep breath in as you examine your surroundings. You canât believe youâre going on a date with a man your friend, Aubrey, set you up with.
It had been a long time since your separation from your long-time boyfriend. The split was painful. You remember it every so often; sometimes the emotions of the split build up at random times of your day, leaving you teary and shaking with sadness. He promised you the world. Maybe that was the first sign of his infidelity. No man promises a woman the world three months into a relationship. It was all bull from the beginning, but could you have known? You were in your late teens, naive and lovestruck. You couldnât have known.
Now, here you are, in front of Club 30, in a shimmery black dress, draped with a white fur shawl and sleek golden heels. Your hair is beautifully done in a top bun with a few loose curls draped behind your ears. You fiddle with one of the multiple rings you have on, contemplating whether you should go in. You take in one final breath before pushing open the heavy oak doors, ready for whatever the late night has in store for you.
The bass of the jazz band rumbles through the smokey air as you walk in. You notice a large crowd on the dance floor. Their bodies rock from side to side to the rhythm of the 4-count music. To the left are several tables designed for an assembly of friends. The booths are decorated in a simple brown leather with each table covered with wine-red cloths designed to give you an intimate feel as friends conversation.
There are 4 young men there right now. Their head all turned to you. You give them a small smile which excites them butyou ignore it and look to your right. That way is the bar. Thatâs where youâre expected. You clear your throat and slowly walk to the bar before taking a seat on one of the many high barstools. The array of alcohol beautifully decorates the large wall before you. From wine to whiskey, itâs all gracefully shelved, disguising the liquid poison as something beautiful.
âCan I get you something to drink?â The bartender interrupts your thoughts. His smile was genuine and calm, indicating his expertise in customer service.
You return the smile, your red lipstick morphing into a gracious grin as you speak. âIâm not too sure what to order. Any suggestions?â
âOf course, maâam. Do you have a taste for a sweet or bitter drink?â He leans on the counter, clearly taken aback by your allure.
âSweet, please.â
âI would suggest a lemonade or strawberry daiquiri.â He looks you up and down with his bottom lip between his teeth.
âStrawberry, please.â You giggle, rolling your eyes as he nods before turning around to prepare your drink.
While the bartender works on your beverage, you fix your gaze on the large clock. 22:10. Aubrey had said your date would be by the bar by 22:00 but heâs not here yet. You decide to shrug it off and wait a little longer.
âHere you are, maâam. A strawberry daiquiri.â He carefully slides the drink your way with a wink.
You take a long sip through the paper straw. The sweetness of the strawberry fizz compliments the thick rum. Youâre quiteimpressed by the taste. Having never drank this before, your tongue enjoys every drop of it, and soon enough, youâre asking for another one.
22:30.
You huff.
âAre you expecting someone?â The bartender inquires, sliding you your second daiquiri.
âYes, I am, but Iâm afraid Iâve been stood up.â You take a sip of your drink with a frown.
âThat happens here quite a lot, unfortunately,â he starts, âJust a few hours ago, an older lady sat here with me and waited for her date to arrive. Alas, he never did.â
You sigh and nod. Maybe the same fate had met you.
âDonât fret. Iâm sure he would have been a waste of time anyway.â He grins, tapping his fingers on the marble counter.
You nod again, accepting your circumstances. Instead of moping about your current fate, you turn to face the band across the bar. They play a more upbeat tune now. Something that has the dance floor cheering and whistling. The sight lifts your mood. Your head begins to rock to the rhythm.
âYou should join the crowd, let loose!â The bartender encourages you.
âIâm not much of a dancer,â you lean back to turn the suggestion down.
âOh come on, maâam. Iâm sure youâre great at it. Plus, why come to Club 30 if not to dance? This is the place to dance, and I knowââ
The bartenderâs words are cut off as he notices the large oak doors open again. The thick, smokey air in the club shifts, as if itâs being controlled by something greater than it; something that makes the jazz band mess up the rhythmic jam.
âOh no. Tonight of all nights?â He whispers behind you and you fix your gaze towards the two large men who you assume are bodyguards.
Before you can respond, another man walks in. Heâs dressed differently from the black-suited large men behind him. You glance at his white tailored suit. The expensive fabric hugs his slim figure perfectly, accentuating his toned arms and legs. Beneath his white suit jacket is a soft pastel blue shirt sleekly complimented by a white tie. His hair, curly, thick, and long is topped off with a white fedora. His presence has undoubtedly changed the clubâs mood. What you cannot decipher is if this shift is a good or bad one. What you do know, however, is that his arrival has garnered the attention of everyone in the club.
As swiftly as he arrived, his bodyguards escorted him to the far corner of the club. He sits between them as if he is royalty of some sort. He examines the room, seated in the perfect place to see every corner of the club; to see you.
You hadnât noticed that you were staring at him the entire time he had sat there until he finally fixed his gaze on you. With a nervous smile, you wave at him. He tilts his head, but before he can do anything else, his table is surrounded by a cluster of girls ready to throw themselves at him.
âI wouldn't if I were you. That man is trouble.â
You turn to face the bartender whose face is painted with concern.
âWhyâs that?â You smile inquisitively.
âHeâs known for doing shady business around these parts of Chicago. Rumour has it that heâs taken a life just outside the club, in the back allyâ
You scoff.
âI doubt that's true. If it was, weâd see news of a death on the papers, no?â
Before the bartender could answer, one of the large men from the corner table tapped you on your shoulder.
âExcuse me, maâam. My boss would like to speak with you.â The large man speaks with an even tone.
You look at the bartender who shakes his head in disagreement with the request, but you; not having anything better to do here; smile and stand up to follow the black-suited man.
âDonât worry. Iâll be fine.â You reassure the bartender before you walk to the designated table.
A dozen eyes watch you as you make it to the alluring man. The girls that once squealed with excitement at his arrival now fix their eyes on you with bitter jealousy. That doesn't stop the white-suited man from motioning you to sit beside him. You slowly scoot your way onto the leather seat, sitting just a few inches away from him.
âLeave us.â He commands, and as if theyâre filled with fear, the two bodyguards make their way to the dance floor. The girls, on the other hand, linger.
âAll of you. Now.â His voice is stern now, his piercing gaze scaring the girls away with those simple words.
Now, youâre left alone with him. With nobody around, his scent floods your nostrils. A deep sage with a mix of vanilla surrounds him. What an intoxicating scent, one you could inhale for aeons.
âWhatâs a pretty young thing like you doing here, all alone at this hour?â He asks.
His voice is surprisingly softer than the tough visual that he is. He shifts closer to you, closing the gap you had left before looking you dead in the eyes. His deep brown eyes glisten in the mellow lighting of the club. Something is confusing about those eyes. They appear so innocent, but something in them hints at a darker reality.
âI- I had a date tonight,â you fidget with your rings, âregrettably, he never showed.â
He takes a slow sip of his drink, which youâll come to learn is whiskey. His gaze never leaves yours as he drinks.
âWhat a foolish man he is to leave a woman hanging like that, especially a woman of yourâŠstature.â
You giggle. He loves that. The sound of your giggle eggs him on.
âMy stature?â You probe and he nods.
âAn enchanting woman like you shouldnât be treated so poorly.â
Youâre taken aback by his words. Looking away from him you fiddle with your rings. He notices this and gently places his hand on yours. You look at it. Itâs much larger than yours with veins travelling to and fro. You look up surprised and are greeted by a soft grin.
âThe nameâs Michael. Michael Jackson. Yours?â
Without a second to waste you tell him yours. His smile brightens at your response, a few crinkles surround his eyes as he smiles.
âItâs very nice to meet you, darlin'.â Michael whispers into your ear in a sultry tone, causing a shiver to run down your spine.
âNow, tell me. What nonsense was our little bartender telling you about me, hmm?â He leans back into the leather seat.
âThat youâre trouble.â You shrug bluntly, tapping your slim fingers on the table before you.
âOh really?â He motions for his bodyguard, âWhat kind of trouble did he say I am?
Before you answer, he whispers something to his bodyguard before shooing him away. You watch the large man walk to the bar.
âThat youâve done some shady business here and evenâŠâ
âEven what, darling?â He coos.
The bodyguard returns to you and places a strawberry daiquiri in on the tabl before turning and leaving for the dance floor once again.
âThank you.â You smile and take a sip. âHe said youâd killed someone behind this very building.
Your words provoke a loud chuckle from him. His head tilts backwards as he laughs, exposing his Adam's apple.
âAs you can see, Louis over there has quite the imagination.â He clears his throat and drops his expression into something more serious. âDonât believe everything you hear about me around these parts. People love to gossip about my occupation. They know nothing of what they speak of.â
You sigh a sigh of relief and drink the last of your beverage, continuing the conversation. He remains calm and collected, only sharing enough to keep you intrigued, but not sufficient to satisfy your curiosity.
September 14th 1935
Three years into your relationship youâve come to learn that Michael would always be that way. Not even the fact that youâre his wife could change that. Anytime you ask about his work, heâll give you a short answer. Nothing too specific, just enough to reassure you that heâll be safe on the next business trip heâd be heading to. Lately, things have changed. Your husband had no longer told you where he was headed. Heâd simply leave a note alluding to where heâd be and what heâd be dealing with.
To say you were annoyed by his behaviour is an understatement. You spent the past 3 months with your housemaids. They knew the ins and outs of your new grand home, the home you moved into with Michael when he married you two and half years ago. You grew friendly with them in the early stages of your marriage which you thank yourself for doing because you can ask them what exactly your husband gets up to while youâre asleep or away with friends and family.
âTwo weeks ago, he had three men here. They were all dressed in expensive-looking suits, and we were all ordered to serve them with whatever they pleased,â said Diane with an admitting tone.
âAnd a month before that, he had a woman here,â Claire adds, âbut worry not. He did not lead her to your bedroom or anything of that sort.â
You listen to them intently, your fists clenching and relaxing as they tell you just how much Michael has been hiding from you.
âDo you know where heâll be later tonight? You two are the eyes and ears of this house. Iâm sure you heard word of his night excursion.â You look at them both.
âYes. Of course!â Diane speaks. âI overheard him talk to his chauffeur, Bill, about being at Club 30 tonight at 11pm for some business.â
âPerfect. Once he leaves for that, be sure to have a car for me to follow him there.â
Diane and Claire nod and disburse as your so-called honest husband makes his way to the kitchen where youâre situated.
âGood day, darling.â Michael coos, placing a soft and long kiss on your lips. âWhat were you all discussing just now?â
You kiss him back and hum, knowing not to tell him the truth. âWe were planning for our housewarming party tomorrow.
âAh, I see,â he sits beside you, placing his large hand on the small of your back, âIâll make sure to get all the alcohol needed tonight, okay?â
You nod and cup his face with your warm hands, âThank you, my love. Youâre a lifesaver.â
He smiles, rubbing your back slowly before turning his attention to the newspaper. You notice his jaw clench as he reads the front cover, so you turn to the newspaper.
âTwo Bodies Found at The Docking Pier Near Club 30â
âOh my,â you gasp, catching Michaelâs attention, âPoor souls.â
âItâs shocking indeed, darling,â he says not because he means it but because he has to in order not to alarm you. You can tell he knows more about these deaths than heâs saying so you probe.
âWhen did they find them?â
âThe morning of September 9th.â He answers as he continues to read.
âWere you not there the night before?â you lean closer to him.
âWhat are you sayinâ?â He slowly turns towards you.
You huff and look him dead in his eyes. âSurely you would have seen something.â
Michaelâs Gaze hardens and his hand clutches the newspaper tightly. Itâs not the first time youâve angered him this way. There have been times when you asked him about his whereabouts, noticing how they always seemed to correlate with the discovery of a dead body. This time, however, you prob further. Gone are the days when you simply say âOkay fineâ and let it go. Today, you want to know as much as heâll tell you, even if it means heâll be infuriated by your unwavering questioning.
âDarlinââŠâ He takes a deep breath to calm himself. âWhy would I know a thing about this.â He asks irritated, shaking the paper firmly.
âBecause you were there the night before, no?â
He nods.
âAnd the paper says there was a quarrel around the same you where there for a drink.â
You observe his increasing anger, his breath getting deeper as he attempts to keep himself from raising his voice at you. One thing is for sure; he has something to hide, but he wonât dare yell at you. He knows better than to treat his woman with such fury. He would rather die than create room in your heart for you to fear him. If he did that, he would have failed as a husband, as a man, but God, were you pissing him off right now.
âDarlinâ, I do not witness the fights that break out at the club. Iâm gone by then.â He speaks bluntly.
âSo whyâd you come home so late that night?â
âListen,â He snaps but quickly lowers his voice, âwhat I do in my spare time is not your concern. All you need to worry about is the goings-on of our home and yourself. Is that clear, Darlinâ?â
His tone is stern as if to discipline you like a child. Heâs never used such a tone while addressing you. You knew now that he was not telling you the complete story.
âNow, if youâll excuse me. I have to get ready for work.â That's the last thing he said to you that day before he disappeared out of the large wooden doors of your home to do God knows what.
19:00
Michael had arrived back from work an hour prior. He did not spend much time with you that evening, and soon, he was out the door. The only thing he said was that heâd be back with the alcohol for tomorrowâs housewarming. Why were you having a housewarming two years into moving here? You didnât know, but that's not important. What's important is to figure out exactly what he has planned for the night.
23:17
âMrs Jackson, the car is ready for you,â Diane whispers and you nod.
âThank you, Diane. You and Claire be sure to take the day off tomorrow. Weâll have other servers here in your place.â Diane nods hastily at your words before she and Claire disappear into the servantsâ quarters.
23:45
You thank the driver before stepping out of the car. Here you are, in front of Club 30 once again. It had been months since you were here, having feared that youâd meet the same fate as those two young men who were found dead that morning. That fear is now replaced with pent-up rage from your husband's lies. You were done with the secrets. Tonight, youâll find out the truth, and nothing will stop you from completing that mission.
You walk into the ally and sneak your way into the club through the back door.
âThank you, Louis. Youâre a gem.â You give the bartender a soft kiss on the cheek as he helps you through the clubâs kitchen.
âHeâs here already. Two men came in shortly after him,â he blushed at the kiss, âThen two other men followed. Theyâre all seated together in his booth.â
You nod with a frown. âDo you know what theyâre up to?â
âNo, maâam. Theyâve had the jazz band playing to cover up their conversations, but the band will retire for the night soon.â
You follow him to the clubâs end of the kitchen. To your surprise, the band has already left, leaving the five men, including Michael, to their own devices. Their conversation is clear as day. Both you and Louis lean on the door to listen in.
23:50
âHow did they find the bodies?â Michael asks, his tone cold.
âWe donât know, boss. Don said heâd take care of it but-â One of the men tries to defend themself but is cut by the other.
âI never said Iâd take care of anything!â You assume that is Don talking.
âBoss told you too! You always mess up the simplest jobs.â
âEnough!â You hear Michael shout as he delivers a loud bang to the table. âI will not tolerate such childish behaviour from anyone tonight. You all need to shut up and listen.â
A shiver runs down your back at his commanding voice. His soft-spoken nature seems to have shifted into something darker, something you didnât recognise. Was this your husband? Of course, it was, but this was a side of him you were not acquainted with.
âBut first. I must deal with something,â Michael begins, âLouis, bring her here.â
You dart your eyes to Louis, whose hand has already grasped yours, pulling you out of the kitchen and into the club's main room. Your cheeks burn with embarrassment as Michael stands before you, his curls messy and suit well-kept. He clicks his tongue and circles you slowly, shooing Louis away with a knowing nod.
âNow, what do we have here?â Michael speaks with a disappointed tone.
Youâre frozen in place. The shock of Louis having sold you out fogged your mind. All you can do is dart your eyes as he continues the torturous dance around you. At that moment, you feel small. Like a rabbit waiting for the cheetah before it to pounce.Â
âI- I can explain-â
Michael chuckles. âWhat happened to all that spunk you had interrogating me this morning, Darlinâ? Was it all a front?â
You have no choice but to look down abashedly. Youâve been caught, your plans ruined by someone you thought you could trust. Oh, once you get out of here, youâll be ripping Louis a new one.
âCome. Sit.â Michael grabs your arm and leads you to the booth. You fall onto the leather seat and face the four men who sit across from you and Michael on hard wooden stools.
âExplain yourself, darlinâ.â He commands.
The anger youâve bottled up finally spills over as you begin: âExplain myself? You have a lot of nerve to say such a thing! How dare you lie to me about your life to this degree? Shame on you! Shame on all of you in this room right now!â
Youâre seething with anger, your hands clench tight around nothing, your jaw tight, and your brows furrowed. Your eyes roam your surroundings. The four men facing you donât react to your words. One, however, smiles contently.
âI never knew your wife could yell like that, Boss.â Don smiles.
âNeither did I,â Michael admits, âYouâre full of surprises, young lady.â
âAnd youâre full of shit!â You spit at Michael, provoking a twitch of disapproval across his face.
âWatch yourself.â He lifts a finger, reprimanding your outburst. âI know you want answers, but I will not accept such foul language, darlinâ. Understand?â
You shake your head, cross your arms and look anywhere but him or his lackeys. âSpeak.â
Michael chuckles at your attempt to be tough. âOh, youâre too cute, my love,â he says as he sits beside you, âAs you wish. What would you like to know?â
âWho are these men?â You start with a simple question.
âThese are Tony, Don, Trevor, and Allen. Theyâre my cleaners, my boys.â He sips his whiskey.
âCleaners? Meaning what?â You raise a brow at them and they all bow their heads in acknowledgement.
âWhat an innocent mind you haveâ He coos. âThey clean up after me. You know, after I deal with someone.â
âWhat?â You raise your voice.
âWe get rid of anyone he kills, Mrs Jackson. Thatâs our job, but someone didnât do it right on Friday.â Tony hits Don on the heads
Michael shifts in the seat and shakes his head. âYou are all so childish.â
You canât believe what youâre hearing. Your husband, the man you love is a killer. A cold-blooded killer. How did he never show any sign of this sick side to him?
âMichael, youâre a killer?â You look at him with your cheeks red.
âDarlinâ, itâs much more complicated than that-â
âThen explain yourselfâ You snap.
Michael sighs before nodding. He stands up, holding his hand out for you to take it, but you don't. Instead, you stand and follow him to the balcony on the second floor.
00:00
The hustle and bustle of Chicago has slowed down significantly at this hour. As you and Michael stand outside, you hear a dog bark from afar and a car rumble through the empty road. This calm view of the city lights does little to nothing to ease your stress. It seems as though nothing he has to say with change how you feel in the moment.
âListen, I know what youâve heard is concerning to you, but I must assure you, my love, that You have nothing to worry about.â
âIs that so?â You huff. âHow am I supposed to do that when youâre running the streets killing people?â
Michael lifts his finger to hush you. The last thing he needs is to have the patrolling police listening to your heated conversation.
âItâs not that simple, my love.â
âSimplify it for me,â You cross your arms.
âYou wonât believe me, but alas, Iâll explain.â He leans onto the rails, lighting a cigar before taking a long breath of the smoky substance.
âRemember when I told you about my upbringing? My family always had to move from state to state.â
You nod.
âWell, that was because my father was involved in criminal activity. But you know that part.â
You remember Michael telling you about how his father was killed in prison by a gang he worked in opposition with.
âGo on,â you command.
âWhen my father died, my older brothers wanted nothing to do with the life my father led, so I took over as boss.â Michael wraps his lips around the cigar, sucking on it as it fills his lungs with the smoky air. He puffs rings of smoke out as he watches for your reaction.
âYou're some kind of mafia boss? here, in Chicago?â You cough as the aftersmoke hits your throat.
All Michael can do is nod. His eyes stay fixed on you as you take in everything youâve heard.Â
How long was he going to hide this? What would he have done if you were in trouble? What did he expect you to do if he got arrested or hurt?
âI would never let myself get hurt, let alone put you in any form of danger, darlinâ. I swear.â He reassures you with one hand on your face and the other holding the burning cigar
âYouâve already endangered me by not telling me this from the beginning.â Your voice cracks.
âHow could I tell a stranger that Iâm a criminal?â He runs his fingers through his curls.
âYouâre calling your wife a stranger? Jeez, Michael. I never knew you were this cruel.â Your head shakes as tears roll down your cheeks.
âDarlinââŠI meant no harm. believe me.â Michael wipes a tear from your eye which does nothing to soothe your sorrow.
âI cannot do this right now.â You turn away from him.
âMy loveâŠâ his voice falls small.
âYouâve lied to me for three years, Michael. Three years.â You sigh and take a step away from him. âI cannot bear to look at you without feeling betrayed. I cannot be around you right now.â
You walk away, leaving him on the balcony with a cigar in his hand and a tear threatening to fall from his beautiful brown eyes.
00:38
As you hastily pack an overnight bag, you look at your shared bed with teary eyes. The thought of you sharing a bed with a killer haunts your mind and breaks your heart. You had to get away from here, from him.
Right now, nothing could stop you from seeing him as a monster, and that hurt to admit.
Â·Ë âàŒÍ[his favourite thing about youâŠ] ! Ë
If you ask him his favorite thing about you, Michael will laugh and say âEverything, baby!â, and if you insist on the question, heâll start pacing because he doesnât want to disappoint you by not answering you, but he sincerely does not want to have to choose one specific thing about you that he loves more than the rest of you; that thought makes him feel sick with guilt, so itâs best you donât ask him this question. However, if you were able to take a peek into his mind, or perhaps if you were particularly observant with Michaelâs behaviors, youâd discover his favorite parts of you that he may not even willingly admit to himself.
Above all else, Michaelâs favorite thing about you is your heart, your mind, your very being. He loves the way you think, how your mind works, how you express your feelings, your love for him, your love for anything else. He adores the ways in which you inspire him, each and everyday, in every conceivable way. Thatâs a poetic answer Michael will be happy to give, if you can get through his stressed-and-pacing headspace and make him aware that there is such a thing.
When it comes to your body, though, Michael is beyond the realms of devoted. At his core, he is a man, so is a natural lover of the most intimate parts of you, but his adoration runs so much deeper than that. He loves your silhouette, seeing it displayed in the form of a shadow; he loves the curve of your hips, your waist, your legs, and he will sing your praises (literally) for every intricate detail of your body. But, if you pay close enough attention, youâll notice that Michael does - very subtly - favor your face, specifically your eyes and lips. You are the person to see the eyes behind his sunglasses more than anyone else, and if Michael could dedicate his life to staring into your eyes, he would in a heartbeat. And your lips? Every time you speak, itâs like heâs watching a tennis match between your eyes and lips, the way his gaze flits from one to the other. There is no better feeling in Michaelâs mind than your lips on him, blessing him with the sweetest kisses. While he does, obviously, love kisses that he can return, the way the feeling of your lips lingers on his cheeks long after your kisses have left his skinâŠitâs heaven, and that heaven canât wait. To say Michaelâs a sucker for your kisses just doesnât cut it.
âBaby, baby, one more. Just one more.â He pleads, his voice no more than a soft murmur against your lips, barely kissing yours in between words because if you call them out heâll tell you these kisses donât count.
âHm, just the one?â You question quietly, a little breathless.
âThree more. Maybe four. A hundred, my girl, if youâll let me.â Michaelâs voice is no more than a whisper now, and with his last syllable, his lips are on yours and thereâs no room for another word.
And the next time that kiss needs to pause for a breath, heâll be asking you all over again.
... the ending... ARE YOU TRYING TO KILL ME đđ€
i'm so inlove with the way you wrote that last part about the kisses, honestly almost gave me a heart attack đ”âđ« the dialogue, "âThree more. Maybe four. A hundred, my girl, if youâll let me.â" OKAY WRAP IT UP, I CAN'T DO THIS ANYMORE
and the line before that "âBaby, baby, one more. Just one more.â He pleads," OH, HE'S PLEADING NOW, IS HE???? HMMM??? yea, okay here's the keycard to my hotel room, thank you very much!
also i am a firm believer that Michael is so the type to speak against your skin, whether it's your lips, your temples, your cheeks, wherever, he'll do it. ["his voice no more than a soft murmur against your lips" JUST TAKE ME NOW. PLEASE.]
you drink up the way his voice sounds so close to your ear, how his low murmuring tone feels like honey, the vibrations against your skin sending shivers up your spine ... sighing so dramatically and dreamily right now
and the fact another one of your works, "Â·Ë âàŒÍ[PDA with MJ] ! Ë", talks about him speaking against your cheek infront of paparazzi... -- "âLook how crazy they go for you, angel.â Heâll murmur against your skin." -- girl imma js let you know now that you are eating all these headcannons up and feeding the fandom so so well, hats off and praise to you fr đœđ
i can't wait to read more of your work, my brain keeps going back to it again and again, and i'm literally itching to not pick up my phone and go straight to your account đ€
as a thank you, enjoy some cute and handsome photos of Michael (which would be all the photos in the world ;3)
