Synopsis: Michael longs for a private romantic relationship away from the public eye with a girl nobody knows about, when he enters the bookstore in a public disguise and sees you, you might just be his manifestation.
Warnings: Sexual themes, MDNI, smut, 18+, fingering, bookstore sex, cursing, p in v sex
WC: 4528
A/N: Hii!! This is my first fanfic on my page so I hope you enjoy, sorry if it’s not the best it’s my first time writing smut aswell😭 have a beautiful day/night <3
February California 1992
Two weeks. Two whole weeks of Michael trying to get this frustrating song to come together.
He had practically already wrapped up all of the songs for his upcoming album dangerous. He had made 13 songs to be exact with the help of his amazing producers Quincy jones and Teddy riley.
But there was something missing, a song - containing ideas that have been in the back of his mind for months.
And after a restless night of tossing and turning he had sat up in his bed and the revelation came to him. This song needed to be personal. It needed to be about love, and yes in the past he had made dozens of songs regarding the topic. But this one, need to specifically be about the type of love that he wants- no the type of love he has always wanted.
With lyrics that came straight from his soul, a song about a private yet passionate infatuation.
His entire life has always been put out on display including his love life ever since he entered adulthood. Every female interaction flashed with cameras for everyone to see and grasp.
Michael yearned for a romance that was private but wasn't a secret. He yearned for people and interviewers to ask who the mystery girl was and why he was extra smiley recently.
A romance where him and his lover are nowhere near the spotlight for people to claw apart. A romance where him and his lover could be ordinary people. Where he wasn't a popstar but just a man in love.
Something he was never able to do with his previous relationships where the females were only with him for his name and fame. Hidden kisses, caresses and whispers that only him and his lover knew about without needing to do it in front of cameras. A relationship where they both took a vow to keep it in the closet.
A day after arriving back at neverland with pure fatigue, Michael couldn't think of a better way to spend his day off than to add new marvel comics to his never ending collection.
On the drive back home from the Westlake recording studio yesterday, with his temple resting against the cold glass of window, he noticed a new book store had just opened down the street.
Which is currently why after 30 minutes of putting on his usual hidden public disguise of fake facial hair, short afro wig, buck teeth, baseball cap, some dark aviator shades and baggy clothes. Michael heads out of his ranch getting inside of his bodyguard Bill Bray's black Mercedes Benz on the way to the new bookstore he hasn't been able to stop thinking about.
You’ve finally managed to open your own little but filled to the brim bookstore. To say it wasn’t easy was an understatement but you done it.
With the help of your life long motivation of always wanting to own your own bookstore, twelve year old you would probably be screaming with joy right now.
It’s only been open for about 3 weeks, but tears never fail to brim in the corners of your eyes at how your hard work has caused hundreds of customers bustling in everyday.
Everything is exactly how you’ve always dreamed for it to be, dimly light store giving off a warm, nostalgic kind of vibe with a variety of different types of novels and genres filling up the oak wood shelves that took you days to build all by yourself.
Today however, is a quieter day with maybe around 15 customers so far. The weather could be the main culprit for the lack of customers, the windows of the store are still slightly blurred from the rain that ended about 15 minutes ago.
Water droplets have their own race as the after drizzle sun sets the store into a gentle golden hour, lighting up the entire store.
Just as you were restocking the comic book areas, the soft chim of the bell indicating someone’s arrival sounds in the store.
Turning around you can’t help but be slightly startled by the homeless looking man across from you. Softly clearing your throat, you make sure your tone and body language remain friendly.
“Hi sir, can I help you with anything? Or do you just want to have a look around first?”
Michaels eyes flicker up from behind the large aviators he’s wearing, immediately his eyes wander over you with an appreciation that makes his heart beat shamelessly.
You were a rare beauty, the type of beauty he hadn’t seen in a very long time, the type of beauty that inspired a lot of his songs, pyt to be specific.
His tongue wets his lips as he takes in your deep melanin skin that sat in mesmerising contrast on the cream knitted sweater you were wearing, thick dark coils coming from your scalp reminding him of the hair he once had in his teen days, was pulled back into a cute low white ribboned ponytail. Just looking at you had his mind swarming with future lyric ideas.
“Hi..im just lookin around” he finally manages to reply.
With a polite smile your eyebrows furrow ever so slightly at the familiarity of his voice, but you brush off the thought and carry one of the boxes to head over to a shelf that needed to be restocked.
Finally releasing a small breath he didn’t know he was holding, Michael takes his time to look around nodding in amazement of how you managed to use this small space to build such an aesthetically pleasing book store.
“Just opened up huh? This place is amazing” he says out loud as he heads to the comic section.
From where you were standing across the store you shyly smile in appreciation at the thick moustached man
“Oh uh- thanks! yeah I opened up a few weeks ago, still so much left to do” you replied with a light easy going chuckle.
Looking over your shoulder you see the man slightly hunched over browsing through the marvel collection, your eyes are fixated on the way his long slender fingers are pulling each comic back in search of something.
Thickly swallowing, you shake your head - get a hold of yourself Y/N he’s a customer you thought to yourself. In your defence, it has been a long time since you’ve done anything with a man, so the mere sight of fingers as perfect as his had you salivating.
Holding in your amusement seeing how concentrated with a frown he didn't know he had as the man was in search of something, you put down the box deciding to stroll over.
“Are you looking for the new Amazing spiderman comic?”
Michael slightly jumps at the sound of your voice before chuckling softly
“Yeah uh, I guess it’s all sold out isn’t it? I should’ve came earlier but I’ve got a really busy schedule you see.”
There it was again- that voice. A voice that the entire world knows and a voice that can never be mistaken.
“No not at all- I have some new stocks I’ll go grab it for you-......sir I’m sorry if this comes across a bit weird and trust me when i say this is a major compliment but- has anyone ever told you that you sound exactly like Michael Jackson?”
His eyes enlarged before relaxing them, clearing this throat to seem unfazed
“oh me? Well that’s a first”
He forces a casual chuckle despite how his fingers are fidgeting with each other in nervousness of his cover potentially about to be blown but luckily it wasn’t.
And for about two months, after that visit, he made sure to always visit your little book store if not to browse the comics, it was to get a glimpse of you.
He was infatuated and you had no idea. Each time he visited a new lyric for his 14th song was created, you learned that his name was William or at least that was what he told you it was.
He was so sweet and kind, a friendship had soon blossomed, hanging out when he had long weeks off, walking you home after your shifts were over just to make sure you were safe. Sometimes even being there your entire shift to help around.
It started to dawn on you that your own sense of attraction and liking was starting to develop for him….which was weird because he never properly showed you his face before, he always had his cap and dark glasses on, you had no idea what his eyes even looked like, he also had very funny teeth but you grew to find it cute.
But it wasn't about the looks for you. What mainly captivated you was his personality, he always had you excited when the bell to your store would shake. And his voice, gentle like a whisper with a hint of southern to it, you always told him his voice reminded you of Michael Jackson but he always gave you that charming laugh and called you crazy.
On a bright April day you were cleaning up the store, today the store was closed so you were alone dusting and reorganising certain areas.
Your fluffy coils were down from your usual ponytail, framing your face like a crown, you’ve got a broom stick in your hands whilst your hips are swaying in your sundress to pyt by Michael Jackson which was currently playing from the stereo.
You were so engulfed in singing the lyrics and sweeping, you couldn't even hear the bell to your store chimming.
Upon entering, Michael hears his voice coming from the electronic, pyt the popular song from his album thriller.
He looks up seeing the effortless sway of your hips, your sundress is sage green complimenting the skin he’s already dreamed about kissing, and your thick coils which he’s always wanted to see out of the ribbon is now wild and free framing the face he’s started sketching during breaks inside his studio.
Michael leans his back against the door with a playful smirk resting on his lips bopping his own head to the tune, he hasn’t announced his presence yet, he’s just taking his time to enjoy the fact that the little bookstore worker who’s had him wrapped around her finger for weeks, is singing her heart out to his song who she has no idea belongs to him.
Whilst dancing, you shimmy yourself to twirl around before seeing a tall figure by the door, letting out a scream and jump you adjust your eyes to see William just casually resting against the stores door
“Shit! Will- fuck you scared the crap out of me!”
Michael- or William, throws his head back with a loud chuckle before composing himself
“Sorry!- I really didn’t mean to scare ya doll! I just didn’t want to interrupt all those cool dance moves you got goin on”
Your cheeks grow warm in embarrassment, cool dance moves my ass you couldn’t dance to save your life.
Biting your lip to conceal your own humour you playfully hit his arm “Shut up! you didn’t see anything!”
Michael continues to laugh before holding onto your arms to block the hits.
“Okay okay! but all jokes aside, you uh….really like this song huh?….and Michael Jackson too?”
Your giggles subside as you nod enthusiastically
“Mhm, of course I mean who doesn’t? Hes the king of pop! he’s the best”
Michaels heart flutters hearing your words, you have no idea who were speaking to and the entire fact about this makes Michael melt even more. Hearing the raw genuine appreciation in your voice makes him want to just rip off the disguise and reveal himself to you, the real him.
But as he continues to look down at you his breath hitches seeing your beauty so up close he can’t help but lift his hand to tip your chin up, your own heart is beating rapidly in your chest that you can’t help but ask
“Let me see your eyes….”
Michael nervously swallows but his thumb strokes and caresses your cheek soothingly, making you lean more into his touch. After all these weeks the feelings between both of you are now undeniable, he caught feelings for you the moment he stepped into the bookstore and as cliche as it sounded it really was love at first sight for him.
You were so unknown, so beautiful, so away from the spotlight and prying eyes, everything he’s ever wanted and everything he’s been describing about when writing the lyrics for his new song.
Looking into your deep brown irises through his aviators he realises it’s now or never.
“Okay…..b-but….i got somethin I need to tell you first Y/N”
Your smile slightly falters hearing the uncharacteristic seriousness in his tone making you straighten and nod to show you’re listening, paying attention to whatever it is that made his mood so suddenly nervous.
Seeing your nod Michael feels a bit reassured but still anxious at what your reaction will be. Would you be mad? Happy? Sad and upset? Hurt? Betrayed? He prayed whatever reaction you gave him that he made sure to tell you it was out of pure innocence.
He never meant to fool you, he wears disguises all the time but with you….you turned into his escape route, someone who he couldn’t wait to see after his long days in the studio, someone who he could be private with and way from all the questions of the press and the world, someone who he has happened to fall in love with whilst trying to disappear from the world.
“Okay….just….promise me you won’t get mad?”
“I promise William…..you’re scaring me…”
“N-no don’t be scared just…..just close your eyes okay?”
You nervously nod not knowing what to expect before closing them and placing your hands over your eyes.
Seeing your eyes closed, Michael takes a deep breath before removing his cap slowly along with the fake afro wig letting his natural dark curls fall down.
“William what’s taking so long..?” You ask hearing shuffling.
“Keep em closed” Michael says, he steps back from you to look out the windows of the store to see if anyone is peeping in or walking by before finally removing the last pieces of the disguise, the teeth and the thick moustache. He now stands before you in his true form his true appearance his true identity his heart racing, praying to God that he doesn’t lose you over this.
“Okay y-you can open em now….”
Hearing his voice of confirmation makes you slowly lower your hands opening your eyes slowly, blinking to adjust your eyes to the light before your entire facial expression falls and turns into shock at the sight you’re seeing.
Michael. Freaking. Jackson. Is standing in front of you. Is this a dream? A joke? A prank? Did William quickly step out of the shop and Michael Jackson was a customer who came in? Your mouth opens and closes repeatedly, words unable to come out as you blink rapidly.
“Please don’t panic- okay? It’s me- William- well no- I’m Michael…..God I don’t want you to be nervous around me.”
You step back as Michael’s facial expression crumbles making him step forward
“P-please y/n i-”
“I-I’m not mad…” you say still staring at him with widened eyes
“I just….woah..” you chuckle softly
Hearing your chuckle makes his perfect face light up with a gentle smile
“There she is……I promise I wasn’t doing it to fool with you on purpose……I really like you y/n”
Flutters erupt in your chest at his words “I….like you too….William…or Michael? Whatever your name is” You lightly joke as both of you laugh out loud
“Why didn’t you tell me…? I mean of course I would freak out I mean- I’m trying so hard not to right now! You’re Michael Jackson for goodness sake!”
“I-I know…I just- I never planned to feel this way for you….i wear disguises all the time to just live a normal life for a day…don’t get me wrong I love my fans to death but…I just wanted to go out without having to sign autographs, have paparazzi and interviewers swarming all around me- hell I’ve even had to close down certain malls just to shop.”
Your eyes soften in sympathy hearing him explain everything
“I saw this amazing new book store…I never knew I was gonna fall for the owner…and I never wanted to keep my identity from you, I guess I just thought that…..if I had shown you…you wouldn’t treat me like I was a regular person.”
“Michael….i would have….i knew you were hiding something since you always wore that cap and glasses but i never expected you to be Michael freaking Jackson."
You say making a small smile form on his lips
"i like you too…a lot, and it’s your personality I fell for….you’re kind and funny….really sweet….of course I’m shocked you’re Michael Jackson but…I don’t care, I really do have feelings for you.”
Michaels tense shoulders immediately relax in relief
“Really…?”
You softly nod
“Well..now that you know angel….you have to promise me….you can’t tell anyone. About me…about us…I wanna enjoy you and whatever this is between us all to myself.”
The look in his eyes are filled with a longing that was enough to make you fall for him even more
“I promise. I won’t tell a soul about you…about us…no one has to know.”
Michael smiles kissing your forehead before resting his own on yours looking at you tenderly
“I knew you had the same voice as him because you are him!” You say playfully punching his arm breaking the sappy moment
He laughs before grabbing you by your waist pulling you closer so your chests are now flushed together as he looks down at you.
Your breath hitches looking up at his now revealed eyes, gentle brown, kind deer like eyes looking down at you with nothing but want and passion, his eyes flicker down to your lips that are slightly parted releasing soft breaths that he wants to swallow.
“Kiss me…”
You whisper, your own eyes now on his lips after weeks of wanting to know what they felt like regardless of knowing what his true identity was.
“Baby….if I start….i don’t think I’ll be able to stop.”
Your thighs physically squeeze together at his words, the huskiness of voice…and the raw neediness swimming in his pupils.
Physically unable to even utter the words he sees the expression in your face and that’s all he needs as a confirmation before pulling apart from you to pull the draws of the blinds down concealing the entire bookstore in a dim light with only weak sunlight streaming in through the closed blinds just enough to make out the features of his face.
Before anything else can be uttered between you both, he cups the side of your face with his large hand and envelopes his mouth with yours. The kiss is hungry yet careful, making sure he’s remaining a gentleman whilst showing you how much he’s been waiting for this moment. Your warm tongue that slips into his mouth immediately loses its battle of attempted dominance as Michaels tongue wraps around it making you let out a soft noise that goes straight to his already growing crotch.
Each attempt you make to pull away to breathe for air his mouth is chasing yours as if trying to consume you. His hands move from your face to your lower back with a burning need to go lower and feel the curves that have been inspiring his lyrics for weeks.
Seeing his hesitance you gently pull your head back to look into his eyes, before grabbing his hands and putting them on your ass where you've been craving for him to touch.
“You can touch me….im all yours.”
Hearing your seductive words removes all ounces of shyness he had remaining, grabbing your arms and tossing them around his neck for you to have support before he grabs a handful of your ass lifting you up to wrap your legs around his waist.
Your yelp of surprise at his boldness is cut off when his lips are crashing onto yours again like a magnet as he turns and walks forward making your back press against the nearby bookshelf.
He whispers hungrily between the kisses before trailing them down into the skin of your neck sucking onto it, the warmth of his tongue and breath has you panting almost pathetically, you pull him impossibly closer needing more of him, more of his touch, more of his mouth.
“I don’t think I told you how beautiful you look today.”
Michael says pulling his mouth away from your skin to look down at you, long gone was the nervous man who revealed his identity earlier, all you’re now seeing is a man who looks like he’s been starved.
His doe eyes have sharpened with dark lust as the long slendered fingers you noticed the first time you ever saw him are now travelling up the buttery smooth brown skin of your thigh getting higher to where your dirty mind has been visualising for weeks.
“M-Michael-”
“Shh…baby..let me show you how beautiful I find you.”
And with that, you let out a gentle gasp as his finger tips come into contact with the wet spot of your panties
“Fuck mama you're so wet for me….gosh you’re everything.”
He whispers into your ear sucking onto your earlobe making you shudder before his fingertips are finally on your sensitive bud drawing slow but heavy circles making your whole body arch forward into him.
“A-ah Michael- fuck that feels so good.”
He releases shaky breaths into your neck continuing to kiss any inch of skin he can find on your upper body whilst his fingers are pulling your panties to the side almost teasingly, agonisingly slow wanting to hear your confirmation - needing to hear it.
“Please- please Michael.” you plead almost crying as your eyes water with frustrating need.
“Please what angel? Tell me what you want and I’ll do it”
He whisper against your lips waiting for them to utter the words he needs
“I-i need your fingers- please I need them inside of me so ba- aghh”
Your deep moan cuts off your words as he finally pushes in two of his slender fingers that are long enough to immediately hit that spongy spot that curls your toes.
“A-agh…M-Michael- ohh gosh”
“That’s it….God you’re so fucking beautiful….is this what you wanted?”
Your neck is thrown back against the bookshelf resting on a novel behind you, your eyes are squeezed shut whilst you're panting for air clenching perfectly around his digits as his fingers are pumping into you with an intensity that’s about about to make you come almost instantly.
“M-Michael- please- I need more- I need you so bad baby please”
Your words make him snap as pulls his fingers out releasing a whine in your throat at the loss of contact.
The sight of him sucking his fingers clean off your arousal is enough to make you almost come whilst he uses the same hand to hastily undo the belt of his jeans.
His other arm is still around you hoisting you up against the bookshelf with a tight and firm grip so you don’t fall
His leaking dick finally springs free between you both making you almost drool at the size as you reach down giving it a painfully long stroke from his base to tip that forces him slap his hand onto the shelf behind you for support, whimpering pathetically into your neck.
“O-oh gosh- angel I need you so bad- please let me put it in”
You can’t help but smirk at the duality of this man, a couple seconds ago he was making you use your words just to get his fingers inside of you and now he’s whimpering into your neck just from a couple strokes to his hard dick
You guide his thick tip to your entrance rubbing it across your slit letting your wetness act as a lube for you both before he can’t take the torture anymore he pushes your hand away and thrusts his hips upwards into your warm heat
Both of you moan in sync, faces scrunched in pleasure as he uses his arm to continue holding you up against him keeping your legs wrapped securely around his waist the other hand still on the bookshelf behind you as he begins to thrust deeply
“Mmph- baby- God you feel so perfect, you’re so pretty”
You forget how many times you moan his name the entire bookstore is filled with the sound of skin slapping against each other your thick fro starting to conceal your face making him use his hand to brush it away not wanting your face to be hidden from him for even just a second
“Faster please go faster don’t stop”
Your whimpering cries and pleas for him to go faster and to not stop makes him practically turn into steel inside of you his eyes rolling back as he goes hard enough that a couple of books have fallen from the shelf to the ground.
He pulls the front of your sundress low enough for your breasts to spill out as he sucks onto your brown nipple erupting louder moans from your pretty lips making you arch your chest more forward into his mouth.
You meet his thrusts pushing your hips forwards causing his moans to grow deeper around your breast, he pulls away to smash his lips onto yours again tongue deep swallowing your moans.
“Y/N oh Y/N I’m gonna- I’m gonna come.”
The whisper of his words against your lips was enough to make you reach your own orgasm before him as you cry his name again, gripping his shirt tightly arching your back off the oak wood shelf, coming hard around his arousal soaked length that’s still pushing in and out of you at a relentless pace.
The tight clench of your heat was enough to make him groan almost painfully as he spills inside of you rope after rope panting heavily into your neck, his hips still lazily thrusting upwards to their own accord as if having a mind of its own.
Panting, you lift your head back up from the shelf to look at him, already finding his eyes looking at you with words written on his face that don’t even need to be spoken for you to know.
“Be mine…”
He says whilst brushing away more coils from your face pressing a gentle kiss on your cheek that makes you smile sheepishly
“Yours or Williams?”
He bursts out laughing showcasing the beautiful famous smile and small dimples that every fan has fallen for as it hits you that he’s really Michael Jackson.
“Mine. Michaels, no more William just Michael, angel.”
With a shy grin you nod pressing a small kiss onto his lips
synopsis: despite being jermaine’s girlfriend, michael’s always had a huge crush on you. the infatuation only growing when you show up at his house in a skimpy bikini — giving him the most agonisingly hard cock he’s ever had. so, of course as the best big sister-in-law ever, you have to help him out!
warning; sexual themes, smut, 18+, sub!mike, cheating, age gap (not that much), soft dom!reader
Michael was sweating.
Maybe it was because of the blistering Californian sun.
Or maybe it was because of you.
Regardless, the way the sweat poured off his skin, trickling down the back of his neck, had him shivering despite the scorching sun that beat down on him.
You were tormentingly forbidden — something to, guiltily, stare at but never touch. Never have. Something that would bug Michael every chance he’d catch your eyes across the room, or when he’d let his gaze linger too long on your perfect frame, or when you brushed past him with that sickly sweet smile you always wore with a soft ‘’Scuse me, honey’. Something he’d be kept up at night pondering on.
Forbidden as you belonged to someone else.
That someone else being his brother.
Which made his private infatuation with you a million times worse — the shame lingering deep in his chest whenever he feels his heart jump whenever you grin at him.
But the guilt that often crept up his spine in an obvious crawl was eerily absent today — instead a familiar yet unaccustomed feeling loitered deep inside him. Michael couldn’t quite put his finger on it — he was certain he’d felt like this before when he looked at you, but it was clear he’d never acted on the feeling before.
It was something about the way that you laid oh so deliciously on the sun-lounger — legs crossed at the ankle, displaying your pedicured, white toenails glistening in the sun, skin a sun-kissed glow from the sunscreen you’d lathered on yourself, hair in a messy ponytail, eyes shielded in Armani sunglasses and a Pina Colada in hand. You were tanning — and it had Michael spiralling.
But, the best part? Your striking, baby-pink, string bikini.
The one that he knows his sister bought you for your birthday a mere few weeks ago, now deciding to bring it out for its first wear. Michael cursed the day you accepted that gift as he was now fighting the urge to let his cock twitch desperately in his swimming shorts at the sight of your exposed body — gawking at the way the condensation from the Pina Colada glass dripped down your manicured fingers, before dropping and sliding down the curve of your breast.
He shuffled uncomfortably on the sun-lounger next to you — trying his best to shift his shorts to display his achingly hard cock in a less obvious way. His eyes though, locked onto your glistening frame, your relaxed stance had him admiring the way you got comfortable — your fingers curled calmly by your sides, sometimes reaching up to twirl the string of your bikini bottoms between your manicured digits, or the way you sighed out loud every now and again, tongue darting out to wet your dry lips. Michael gawked at each movement — wondering whether you sighed that gracefully when you were tired, or whether it was a noise of content? Or was that the kind of noise you’d make as his fingers would slide over your skin, or whether it reached a higher octave when he’d slide his fingers insid—
“Michael, sweetie?”
Your sweet voice made him jump — his startled eyes now connecting with your sun-glasses clad ones, a playful smile on your face, “Would you be an angel and put some sunscreen on my back, honey?”
Michael took a stunned few seconds before he answered, lips parted in shock ever so slightly, “I—uh, sure. D-Do you not want me to grab Jermaine?”
He hated the way his chest tightened in envy at the mention of your boyfriend.
You sat up slowly, eyes never leaving his slim frame — his curls slightly frizzing up in the heat, smile deepening at the adorably innocent expression plastered on his face, “He ain’t out here, is he?”
Michael swallowed thickly, his eyes flicking to his brother, Jermaine, in the large pool that covered the backyard of Hayvenhurst, watching as he swam after his other brother, Marlon, before averting his gaze back to you, “‘Suppose not.”
“Then come over, baby, don’t want me to start burnin’, do ya?”
Michael sat up too, shuffling in a way that avoided his still hard cock to be concealed by his shorts, not leaving anytime soon after the casual nickname fell past your plump lips, before perching on the edge of his lounger.
“Atta boy.”
Michael sighed shakily, picking up the sunscreen lotion that laid beside your chair, flicking the cap open gently before squeezing a generous amount onto his clammy palms. You had already situated your bare back to face him, humming quietly to a song Michael recognised as one of his own, awaiting his touch.
You had no idea what you did to him — that’s what killed him most. You, humming away subconsciously to one of his songs, waiting patiently, half-naked, for him to rub lotion into your skin. Jesus.
Michael reached forward, a gentle, yet shaken, hand colliding softly with the leanness of your shoulders — his large hands beginning to lather the protective lotion into your skin. He tentatively avoided your bikini, to avoid staining the material in the grease of the lotion, but also knowing if he had to touch the very clothing that had him so antsy with desperation that it would definitely send him into tachycardia beyond rescue.
As he moved smoothly down your back, the cream now slicking your supple skin, he couldn’t help but admire the painfully obvious ink that clad your spine. He cleared his throat behind you — eyes never leaving the trail of flowers that bloomed in black, slightly faded, ink on your skin.
The artistic sentiment of your dainty tattoo had him pondering — mind trailing over to how different you were to him. You were older, closer in age to Jermaine and La Toya than you were him, oozed confidence like you were the most important person in the room, wore expensive, out-going, feminine outfits that always caught his eye whenever you’d visit the family home, had wit quicker than he’d ever seen and a flirtatious attitude that had him blushing every time you’d compliment him subtly.
You were polar opposites — he was shy, quiet, gentle and, some would say, insecure, despite his superstar persona. On the surface, he pretended he didn’t know why he was so infatuated with you — but, deep down he knew it was because you were something he couldn’t have, but so desperately wanted.
“Gone real quiet back there, Mr, you doin’ okay?”
Your voice dragged him out of his daydream once again, a blush creeping up onto his cheeks, “Sorry. Was just looking at your..thing.”
“My thing?” You laughed softly, “Funny way to describe my tattoo, honey.”
“Sorry, sorry.” Michael chuckled behind you, hands still moving gently against you, “Your tattoo, I mean. It’s very..different.”
“Good different I should hope. I had that done a few years ago.” You revealed, “Had some good reviews from it.”
Temptation crept up Michael’s neck at your alluding comment, the devil on his shoulder screaming at him to ask what you meant by such a sentence. He gave in. “What do you mean?”
You smirked, turning around to face him, “I’ll let you figure that out, sweetie. If not, ask your brother.”
Michael couldn’t hide the shy smile that curved up onto his lips, skin now flushed bright red at your sexual insinuation, “So cute.” You teased, reaching a hand around to pinch Michael’s rosy cheeks, giggling as his timidity.
Your casualness in regard to discussing such promiscuous acts and touching him so sweetly had his boyish crush on you flourishing — his hands trembling as they moved down to your lower back, now scarily close to your plump behind.
“Did it not hurt?” Michael questioned sincerely.
“Hm? Oh, no, not at all.” You spoke, “I like the pain.”
Oh, now that made him twitch — his bottom lip coming between his bottom teeth to steady himself at the way his cock throbbed achingly beneath his shorts, mind running away with itself at the thought of you enjoying pain.
“Hey, you two!” La Toya’s high-pitched voice filled both your ears, “Come in! We wanna play Chicken!”
You gasped, “Ooh, I love that game!” You stood quickly, missing the way your backside came in Michael’s full frontal vision, his eyes flashing open in shock, before turning around to face him, “Thanks, baby.” You whispered, squeezing his chin between your index finger and thumb, before strutting off towards the pool.
Michael couldn’t help himself but stare at the way your bikini bottoms had ridden up around your round ass, now curved between each cheek, displaying your plumpness to him perfectly.
“Lord.” He whispered to himself, rubbing his slicked up hands across his thighs, ridding himself of the lotion, before rising to his feet himself.
You slid into the pool gracefully — sighing as the cold temperature cooled your warm body, swimming towards the rest of group who formed a circle, awaiting the two of you. Michael climbed in after you, eyes locked on the way your tits bounced as you jumped across the length of the pool, barely being held down by the flimsy material of your bikini.
Michael watched from the edge of the pool as you let La Toya climb onto your shoulders, heart thumping as you laughed loudly while you attempted to keep her steady on top of you, before hopping towards Marlon who held Jermaine on his shoulders.
“You’re going down, baby.” Jermaine teased, eyeing his girl from his brother’s shoulders.
“Yeah, right, weakling. I know Toya’s gonna shove your sorry ass into that water, right, Toya?” You sassed back, missing the way Michael clenched his jaw at the causal flirtatious tone of both of your voices.
Michael watched from afar as you and his siblings played multiple rounds of Chicken — not caring to join in himself, just enjoying admiring you from across the pool, pretending as if his brother wasn’t there when he swam close to you or leant down to press a kiss to your cheek inbetween games.
“Hey, Mike! Your turn!”
Michael peered over at the group through his Aviators, who were all now staring at his relaxed frame.
“N-No, I’m good.”
“C’mon, Mikey, I’ll get on your shoulders and play Toya, how about that?”
The nickname you gave him hit him straight in the chest — heart now pounding in his throat. It’s almost like you knew, from the way you said it, that it had an effect on him.
“Okay.” Michael mumbled in defeat, moving through the water to join you.
“That’s my boy.”
Michael swallowed a groan that threatened to leave his lips — you were literally killing him with every word you spoke, his cock now painfully hard in his shorts.
Once he got to you, you slithered behind him, hopping from the edge of the pool and onto his shoulders, giggling as you settled against him. Michael swallowed as your thighs enclosed around his head, his shaking hands coming up to rest on your bare thighs — his head was reeling. He couldn’t help but let his mind fill him with the imagery that your clothed cunt was pressed up against the back of his neck — your clit practically rubbing against him as you got comfortable.
“Tighter, Michael. Don’t want me to fall now, do you?” You commanded, grabbing his hands and pressing them further into your skin, smiling as he tightened his grip, “That’s more like it, babe.”
God, he had to be a pervert the way his dick was jumping around in his briefs at every comment you made. You were turning him into a lustful man — something he strived to not be. But, he couldn’t help himself when you acted like that.
And you didn’t make it easy for him — not when you laced your manicured fingers through his ringlet curls, twirling them around one of your digits as you awaited for the game to begin. Michael let out a shaky breath he didn’t realise he was holding as Marlon called out ‘Aaand go!’
You squealed above him, your hands leaving the comfort of his hair to collide with La Toya’s — thrashing one another back and forth, giggling as you play-fought. Michael’s hands remained planted tightly on your wet thighs, doing exactly as you told him, trying to ignore the way the lower half of your body pressed further into the back of his head.
With a scream and a splash — you were pushed backwards, falling into the water, sliding off of Michael’s shoulders. Michael, ignoring La Toya’s squeal in delight at winning the childlike game, turned to face your submerged frame. Worry flashed in his heart at the possibility you may have hurt yourself falling so abruptly into the water — eyes flickering all over you underwater. His worry soon depleted at the sight of your elegant frame sliding out of the water, hands smoothing down your drenched hair, eyelashes fluttering the droplets away so beautifully his lips fell agape at the sight.
He couldn’t help but stare as you fully rose from the water, a playful smile creasing your lips — and your bikini strap fallen loosely down your arm.
“I—uh, um, your—“
Words failed Michael as he pointed sheepishly at the strap of your bikini, now teasingly revealing the curve of your right breast, falling dangerously down your chest to where one jump and your perky nipple would be free for him to see.
Another twitch!
You peered down at the astray strap, giggling out a breathy laugh as you shimmied it back up, before swimming close to him, “Thank you, sweetie.” You whispered, leaning up to press a soft, tantalising kiss to his damp cheek — only worsening the now painful boner he hid beneath the water.
You swam around him, unaware you’d left him speechless, congratulating La Toya for winning the game. Michael shut his eyes briefly — letting them flicker shut, gulping down his pride, as composed himself. He was surely a goner after this.
Sure you flirted with everyone, even making playful, promiscuous comments towards his sister’s, but you did it with him the most. Even more so than with your own boyfriend. He tried to pretend he didn’t notice it — but when you touched and teased him so often, it was becoming all he could focus on.
Michael rose out of the pool quickly, swift feet already dragging him halfway across the backyard before his name was called. He didn’t stop to turn around, just called out that he was ‘getting too hot’, continuing racing into the house before anyone could convince him otherwise, running up the stairs to the quiet of his bedroom.
His bedroom door slammed shut as he tripped over his own feet, scrambling to his bed, kicking off his shorts as he went. He couldn’t wait any longer — his cock was so hard from your relentless teasing that if he didn’t do something about it right now he was certain he was going to cry. He situated himself on his back, cock, now free from the confines of his damp swimming shorts, bobbed against the bare of his stomach, begging to be dealt with.
Michael’s eyes fluttered shut — hand hovering over his aching length, the fight between arousing relief or prolonged innocence battled in his head.
But, the sound of your sweet, loud laughter through his open bedroom window had him wrapping a firm first around the base.
A quiet gasp left his parted lips, eyes still squeezed shut as he stroked himself tantalisingly slowly — a whine bubbling in the back of his throat. His chest heaved, hips twitching as he bucked up into his own hand, pre-cum now drooling from the mauve tip of his stiffened cock — the relief he had been begging for all day now finally being washed over him.
The swift motions of his hand had his head falling back against the pillow — hips jerking upwards wildly, chasing his own hand as he fucked his palm like a mutt in heat, quiet little whines of pleasure filling the quiet room, along with a subtle yet equally as needy whimper of your name fell past his lips, only adding to the oozing drip of pre that fell from his swollen tip.
“Well, well, well, what do we have here?”
In his state of engrossed arousal, Michael hadn’t noticed your presence in the doorway to his bedroom — your half-naked frame leant against his doorframe, droplets of water from your soaking wet bikini, one that had him in the lustful trance in the first place, falling onto the plush of his carpet. He shot up from the mattress, now perched on the edge, both palms now shielding his obvious hard-on from you as if you hadn’t watched him stroke himself to you a mere few seconds ago.
“I—oh, God, I-I wasn’t, I—“
“You’re so sweet, Michael.”
Your words forced his furrowed eyebrows together in confusion — sweet? Sweet for fucking his hand while moaning his brother’s girlfriend’s name? Surely you must be mistaken?
You slithered into the room, shutting the door behind you and clicking the lock closed — a sound that had Michael’s heart thumping so loud in his head his ears rang. You turned to face him once more, a teasing smile plastered back onto your perfect face.
“What a treat you’ve blessed me with, baby.” You started, walking slowly towards him, your hair swaying behind, now fallen from your ponytail, “I just wanted to use your shower, honey, and I’m so glad I did.”
“I-I’m so sorry—“
“Hush, darling.” You whispered, finally approaching him with a finger to his lips, smirking at the way his trembling hands attempted to cover his bare cock between his legs. Your hand moved to cup his flushed cheek, “There’s nothing to be sorry about. It’s completely natural, sweet boy.”
“B-But, I-I said—“
“I know what you said, Michael.” Your voice as smooth as honey as your nimble fingers shuffled down his face to thumb his bottom lip, “I’m not angry at you, baby. I’m flattered, but also worried.”
“Worried?” He questioned, voice cracking as his frantic eyes never left your own, watching as you crouched in between his legs.
“Yeah, sweetie.” You comforted, your free hand now resting against the bare of his meaty thigh, smirk depending at the way he jumped, “Noticed how hard you were hours ago, baby. Must be so painful for my little Mikey, hm?”
“Oh, God.” Michael whined, embarrassment swarming his body, wanting nothing more than to cover his blushing face, but not wanting to reveal his slightly softening cock to you as you perched between him.
You giggled so sweetly despite the situation you were in, “Has it been painful, my baby?”
Michael attempted to ignore the way his cock began to harden underneath the grasp of his large hands at his referral as ‘your baby’. He gulped, breath hitching in his chest, before nodding meekly, face nestling into your palm innocently.
“Oh, angel.” You babied, your voice a sweet comfort to his embarrassed ears, now slightly hunched over as to make himself smaller in a situation where he felt so big and exposed, “Let me help you.”
Michael’s eyes shot open, “What?”
You smiled, lolling your head to the side, “I’ll make you feel so much better, sweet baby.”
“But, what about Jer—“
“Enough about him. He should be thankful he has a girl who wants to make his little brother so happy, hm?” You cut him off swiftly, your answers so reasonable yet so manipulative at the same time, going deaf upon his aroused ears, “What are big sister-in-laws for, huh, baby?”
Your smaller, more experienced hands enclosed around his own, tugging gently to move them away from imprisoning his cock — revelling in the way he whined bashfully, head turning the other way as his stiff dick sprung free. You sighed in admiration, eyes locked on the sheer length and girth of him — he was bigger than Jermaine despite the age and build difference in them, which only forced your eager mouth to salivate.
Your nimble hand wrapped around the base of him gently, sliding to your knees fully, as you gave him one languid stroke from shaft to tip. Michael whined so desperately it had you squeezing your thighs together at the sound of his arousal — a glob of pre-cum erupting from his flushed tip, drooling down your digits.
Michael couldn’t help but make the sweetest of noises as your plump lips, the one’s he’d been fantasising about since he met you, wrapped around the head of his cock — the feeling he’d once felt for you earlier, that he couldn’t place, crept up his spine.
Ah, so that was it.
Irrevocable, soul-destroying arousal.
He huffed, a whimper leaving his agape lips, now peering down at your frame beneath him — watching as you bobbed up and down his length, hand pumping him simultaneously at the base. Michael, never having had his dick sucked before, was still sincerely impressed with the way you managed to fit all of his cock down your greedy throat — moving your now free hand to squeeze his shaking thighs to provide him some comfort as your throat constricted around him, his tip punching the back of your throat so deliciously it had you gagging, and him gnawing on his bottom lip so hard he could taste blood to hold back his needy moans.
“T-This is s-so wrong.” He whimpered, hands bawled into fists at his sides, face contorted into one pure arousal.
You released off of him with a pop, hand continuing to pump him slowly, “But, you love it, don’t ya, angel?” You teased, pressed a gentle kiss to the head, revelling in the way he whined, “Just givin’ my sweet, baby brother-in-law a hand when he’s so het up ‘cuz of me.”
Michael groaned, eyebrow furrowing deeper into the crease of his forehead as you licked a stripe up the shaft of his cock, tracing the throbbing vein that adorned his length.
“Please.”
“Please, what, baby?”
“Please, I—I, I can’t—I need—Need more.”
You grinned, rising to your feet without a second thought at his submissive whines of need — reaching at your sides to pull at the strings of your bikini, letting the bottoms fall to the ground, revealing your perfect, slick pussy to his eager eyes.
A gentle yet commanding hand met his thumping chest, pushing him backwards onto the bed, letting his back hit the mattress before crawling up his slim frame. Michael’s exposed cock twitched and thrashed against his abdomen wildly as he watched you intently, awaiting your next move.
His breath caught in his throat as you straddled his hips, your bare pussy lips engulfed the girth of his hot cock — a strained squeak hitching in his mouth at the feeling of your warm sex against him.
“Have you done this before, Michael?” You questioned, your voice dropping an octave, now a sexy, teasing tone that had him suppressing another whimper, “Made love to a woman?”
Michael shook his head quickly, saliva moving slickly down his throat, ogling at the way you now reached behind your back, tugging the strings of your bikini top down — letting the flimsy material fall from your chest, exposing your perky tits to his enthusiastic eyes.
“Good.” You whispered, letting your hips move voluntarily against his own, the sleek of your cunt gliding against his manhood, meek whimpers leaving both of your lips, “I knew you were special, baby — hadn’t been ruined yet.”
Michael whimpered as you continued to rock back and forth against him, your stark naked body moving on him with experienced precision that had his head reeling — admiring the way you let your hands crawl up your body, now adorning glorious tan-lines, to cup your bouncing tits or rake through your hair. You were truly an angel that fell from heaven to bless him with your beauty.
“Touch me, Michael.” You coaxed, grasping his hands in your own to grab a handful of your pudgy hips, “Like I taught you earlier, remember? Don’t be afraid to hold me, sweet boy.” You leant down, breast pressed against his bare chest, nipples rolling against him, lips brushing against the shell of his ear, “I want to feel you everywhere.”
“Oh, Lord, please.”
Michael cursed the neediness in his voice as he tightened his grip on your hips, not enough to hurt you, but enough to make you aware of his burning desire to rid himself of the ache in his cock, now the hardest it’s ever been in his life.
“Shh, I got you, baby, it’s okay — I’ll make it all better.”
Your reassuring tone had Michael nodding hysterically — restless to feel better like you promised him so beautifully. Your hips lifted from his own, shushing him as he whined at the loss of touch. A tentative hand grasped the base of him once more, sliding the warm, oozing head between your slippery folds — sighing in content as he nudged your clit. You slicked him up with the essence of your lust — letting it drop down the length of him before lining him up to your willing entrance.
“Ready, baby?”
Michael couldn’t have nodded faster.
“Use your words, Michael. Need to hear my baby say how badly he wants to feel my pussy.”
“Please, god, please, baby, please — need it, need to—Ah!” Michael’s eyes rolled to the back of his head instantly with a gasp at the feeling of your clenching cunt wrapped around his virgin cock, only widening the smirk that clad your face.
You hummed in delight as you sank further and further down him — letting his thick cock stretch you open inch by inch, the burn you craved each time you fucked his brother now hitting you full force, the length you desired from a man now ramming you to the brim.
“So big, Mikey.” You sighed, a hand pressing against his chest to steady yourself, “So much bigger than Jer.”
“My goodness, baby, y-you’re killin’ me.” Michael admitted, catching his breath, doe eyes meeting your own, “Wanted this for so long.”
A breath of flattery left your lips as you rose all the way to the tip of his cock, and back down again, slamming your hips down onto his own, “You’re such a sweet boy, darling. My favourite brother in the whole family.”
Michael couldn’t contain the whines and groans that left him, hands now resting in the curve of your waist, following every calculated movement of your body as you bounced on his cock.
“Kiss.” Michael pleaded, eyes brimming with tears at the sheer volume of pleasuring stimulation he was experiencing, “Kiss me, please.”
Your heart, now fogged with blinding lust, ached at the innocence of him — even despite having the girl he was in love with riding his dick before him, he was still only desperate for a kiss.
You leant down, hand lacing into his curls once more, connecting your lips in a frantic, messy kiss, swallowing every noise that left his dirty throat. Michael’s tongue forced its way into your mouth — the hot muscle tangling with your own in a feverish dance that had your clit twitching against the pubic bone you ground it down onto. You broke away from the kiss to move down his face — the corner of his mouth, cheek, jawline, neck. And once you got there, you wasted no time in licking at the soft skin, basking in the salty taste of sweat on his sun-kissed flesh.
“Could eat you up all day, baby.” You whispered, sucking the sweet spot beneath his earlobe that had his hips bucking up into you, tip ramming against your cervix — hands tightening at your sides.
Sitting back up, not before pressing another kiss to Michael’s lips, you admired the sight beneath you — his puppy dog eyes clouded with lust, petering up at you in such admiration it had your heart bursting, his God-like body carved so perfectly you couldn’t help but rub your fingertips over each ridge of his abs, glistening in the sweat as the humid air in the bedroom increased, and his frizzed up curls now spread across the bed-sheets messily underneath him.
He looked so perfectly destroyable.
“Oh, God — I-I’m gonna—soon.”
Your hips ground down on him once more, continuing to rise and fall back down onto him — the slick of your pussy coating his cock in a sheen, a white, frothy ring of your juices forming at the base. As well as letting sweet, delicious moans of pleasure fall past your rosebud lips, you rolled your aching nub against the dense of his pubic bone — hitting his ears in such a way that had him throbbing inside you.
“Oh, Michael.”
The sound of his name leaving your lips, a scenario he was once imagining while he fucked his hand before you caught him in the act, had him moaning so loud, your hand came up to cover his ajar mouth.
“Gotta keep quiet, baby, or else I’ll have to stop,” You whispered, leaning down to lock eyes with the obedient boy beneath you, “Keep that mouth busy.”
Michael, set on pleasuring you in a way he was still figuring out, latched his mouth to the one thing he’d had his eye on since you arrived at his house — your tits. His puckered lips wrapped around your erect nipple — sucking sensually, soft sighs of content vibrating around the nub. Your back arched against him, tits now shoved into his face, not that he minded, his free hand from your waist, now cupping the lonely breast, fingers rolling the bud between his fingers.
Your erotic noises hit his ears in a way that had him buzzing with confidence — your eyes fixating on the way his tongue left your poised nipple to trace the newly forced tan-line around your breast.
“Fuck, Michael.” You gasped, jaw falling slack as your hips continued to grind against the rigid bone, stimulating your pulsating clitoris while Michael’s hands were busy, “‘Gonna fuckin’ cum on your cock, baby.”
“Mm, please,” Michael whined, his lips pulling from your tit, saliva connecting his lips to your swollen nipple in an erotic scene, “Wanna cum so bad, mama.”
Your head thrust back as you moaned — now succumbing to the pleasure that coursed through your veins, any ounce of dominance you once had now spilling away at the feeling of his tongue lapping at your nipple.
Michael, despite feeling guilty for not bringing the lady there before him, climaxed first — ropes and ropes of his fertile seed flooding your womb, whines only getting louder around the comfort of your breast, hands gripping around your waist tighter at the feeling of your cunt quivering around him.
“I love you, I love you, I love yo—Aah!” Was the only words that left Michael’s lips once he popped off your tit, a blush creeping up onto your cheeks at his admission.
You soon followed — one more roll of your clit against him and a suck against your breast had you orgasming around him so beautifully it left Michael speechless despite his own climax continuing. You looked so pretty like this — back arched, eyes rolled to the back of your head, cunt milking him for all he had to give, gorgeous little moans falling past your plump lips, as well as an ‘I love you too, Mikey’ that had him whining bashfully for the last time.
He felt as though any ounce of self-respect and maturity he had left in his body that threatened to fight his devotion and infatuation towards you had just been diminished to dust at the sight of you cumming around him.
You hummed in delight, flopping forward to lay tiredly on his chest — a hand tracing the definition of his peck, his cock still flush inside you, now softening, “Y’did such a good job, baby.” You whispered, tracing love hearts into his warm skin, “Do you feel better now?”
Despite the feeling of guilt that threatened to creep up his spine at the reminding thought that you still belonged to his brother, he pushed it to the back of his hazy mind, deciding the only acceptable and truthful answer was,
Can I ask Gn!reader and Michael Jackson being in a relationship? :D
Michael being a lover boy with hugs and kisses meanwhile Reader feels too shy and embarrassed from his affection ☺️
Thank you and have a nice day 💖💖
#1 LOVERBOY
M.JACKSON(bad era) X GN!READER
He’s such a lover boy to his partner, he can’t help it!
Michael is the biggest lover boy ever. He’s a gentleman, and he’s even the most gentlemanly with you.
Whenever he was backstage at Speed Demon, he would be found with you in his trailer cuddling and kissing you.
You’d get flustered someone was trying to film him but since you’re basically attached to his hip as his partner. You’re easily caught in the recording trying to get out of his grip.
“Baby, stop.” He dragged the word ‘stop’, watching how quickly you got out of his arms.
He wasn’t upset by your actions, to him, he found it adorable.
You usually act like this anyway.
Whenever you two are at an interview, and whenever the interviewer mentions the relationship you both have.
Michael is quick to grab your hand and smile widely while you hide your face in embarrassment.
“I love them.” Is all he says to the interviewer who ‘awes ’ at you both.
He’ll be kissing your hand, kissing your neck, your cheek, your head, anywhere to be precise.
He once chased you down backstage before performing during a tour just to get one ‘good luck’ kiss.
“Mike stop!” You yelled giggling as you ran past crew members. Michael giggled louder as he finally caught up to you.
the concept of michael loving to get nasty in front of the bathroom mirror, watching your reactions and expressions as you take his deep thrusts; it’s almost narcissistic, but he loves making you feel good and he loves SEEING that he’s making you feel good, all while whispering praises and compliments in your ears which only pushes you further to edge. dunno just a thought :D
HEAR ME ALL THE WAY OUT..... OKAY SO, MICHEAL BEING A OVERPROTECTIVE EX..... FOR EXAMPLE, WHEN A RANDO THAT THE READER'S SEEING TOUCHES THEIR WAIST HE'S LIKE SUPERRRRRRR JEALOUS.... THANK YOU FOR LISTENING TO MY TED TALK!!!!!! ( IS YOU WRITING THIS DOWN????)
hold on hold ONNNNNNN
Jealous Michael??? That’s my shit right there!!! Adding this to the spank bank I mean potential fic ideas….
— tags : offthewall!michael, reader is bill’s daugther and know the jacksons, friends to lovers, mike is so cute and so jealous.
— disclaimer : such a cute request that i had to share it with everyone ! i love seeing cheesy fluff with mike.
𓂃˖ ࣪⊹ michael doesn’t seems to enjoy the way his brothers flirt with you, especially when he’s to one who want to be yours…
████████
it started with the long nights at the studio and the quiet afternoons at the jackson estate. being the daughter of someone as loyal as bill meant your life was naturally woven into theirs. while your father was busy ensuring the family’s safety and logistics, you were usually tucked away in a corner of the living room with a book, or more often than not, trailing behind michael.
you two had been inseparable since the move to la. you were the one person who didn’t want anything from him other than his company, and for michael, that was everything. you knew him before the world truly claimed him—before the glitter of the off the wall era really took flight. to you, he was just mike: the boy who loved magic tricks, old movies, and feeding the deer on the property.
the dynamic was always lively, to say the least. living—or at least spending most of your waking hours—around five brothers meant there was never a dull moment. but lately, the air felt different.
jermaine would always find a reason to lean against the doorframe when you walked by, flashing a slow, charming smile that lingered just a bit too long. jackie started making jokes about how "stunning" you were becoming, playfully nudging you whenever you sat down for dinner. marlon was constantly "accidentally" brushing his shoulder against yours or finding excuses to hold your hand while showing you a new dance step.
you, being as oblivious as you were loyal, just brushed it off as them being their usual, boisterous selves. they were like family, right?
michael saw it all. he watched from the shadows of the hallway, his fingers nervously drumming against his thigh. he knew his brothers' "tactics" better than anyone, and seeing them turn that charm on you made his chest tighten in a way he couldn't quite explain yet.
you were sitting on the edge of the fountain out front, waiting for your father to finish up a meeting, when michael finally stepped out. he didn't look like a global superstar in his simple corduroy trousers and a soft sweater, but his eyes held a weight you hadn't seen before.
"they're doing it again, you know," he murmured, sitting down beside you, his voice barely a whisper above the sound of the splashing water.
"doing what, mike?" you asked, tilting your head.
he let out a soft, frustrated huff, looking at his shoes. "flirting with you. my brothers. they think they're being subtle, but they're not. and it's driving me crazy because they don't know you like i do."
you blinked, looking from michael back toward the house where the light was spilling out from the kitchen windows. you could see the shadows of his brothers moving around inside, laughing and jostling each other.
"mike, you’re overthinking it," you said softly, reaching out to pat his knee. "they’re just being playful. you know how they are—always joking, always trying to get a reaction. they don't mean anything by it. i'm just bill's daughter to them, the girl who’s always been around."
michael didn't look convinced. he shifted closer to you on the edge of the stone fountain, the sound of the water filling the silence between you. "it’s not just jokes, and you know it. when jermaine 'happens' to be in the hallway every time you leave the room, or when marlon tries to teach you those dance moves just so he can hold your waist... that’s not just being a family friend."
you laughed, a light sound that usually made him smile, but his expression stayed serious. "well, even if they are being a little extra lately, it doesn't matter. i don't see them that way at all. it’s actually kind of funny that you’re the one getting worked up about it. i’m fine, really. i can handle a few cheesy lines from jackie."
"i just don't like it," he muttered, his voice sounding small. he picked at a loose thread on his sweater, refusing to meet your eyes. "it feels different now. everything is changing so fast. the music, the move to la, the way people look at us... i just wanted one thing to stay the same. i wanted us to stay the same."
you tilted your head, trying to catch his gaze. "nothing is changing between us, mike. i'm still me, and you're still the only one i actually want to spend my afternoons with. who cares if your brothers are being flirty? they’ll get bored and move on to the next girl who actually falls for it."
michael finally looked up, his big brown eyes searching yours. he looked like he wanted to say something else—something much heavier—but he held it back. he just bit his lip and nodded slowly.
"i hope you're right," he whispered, though the way he was looking at you made it clear he didn't think his brothers were the only ones whose feelings were shifting. "just... be careful. they can be pretty persistent when they want something."
"i'll be fine, bodyguard jr.," you joked, trying to lighten the mood. "now come on, your dad is going to wonder where you disappeared to, and my father is probably looking for me to head home."
as you stood up to leave, you didn't notice the way michael lingered for a second, watching you walk away with a look of quiet longing that had absolutely nothing to do with being "just friends."
████████
the next few days at the estate only made things more tense. every time you walked into a room, it felt like a spotlight followed you, and not the kind michael was used to.
you were in the kitchen helping make some tea when jermaine walked in, leaning against the counter much closer than necessary. "you know," he started, his voice smooth like silk, "i was thinking of heading out to that new club later this week. a girl like you shouldn't be stuck in this house all the time. you need to see the city lights."
you gave him a polite smile, moving to the other side of the island to grab some sugar. "thanks, jermaine, but you know i usually stay back with my dad or hang out with mike. i’m not really a club person."
"maybe you just haven't gone with the right person yet," he countered, flashing that practiced grin.
from the doorway, you heard a sharp throat-clear. michael was standing there, his arms crossed over his chest, looking uncharacteristically annoyed. "don't you have a rehearsal to get to, jermaine?"
jermaine just laughed, putting his hands up in mock surrender before strolling out, throwing you one last wink. as soon as he was gone, michael stepped into the kitchen, his energy practically buzzing with frustration.
"see?" he said, his voice low. "that wasn't 'just being friendly.' he’s trying to take you out."
"he was just being nice, mike! he thinks i'm bored," you argued softly, stirring the tea. "why are you so on edge lately? you're usually the calmest person i know."
michael grabbed a glass but didn't fill it with anything. he just held it, his knuckles turning slightly white. "because it’s everywhere. even marlon was asking me yesterday if i thought you had a boyfriend back in gary. they’re circling you like you’re... like you’re something they can just win."
you sighed, setting the spoon down and stepping closer to him. "hey. look at me. i’m not a prize, and i’m not interested. i’ve told you a hundred times, i’m here for my work and for our friendship. why does it bother you so much if they’re being silly?"
he looked down at you, the golden kitchen light catching the curls falling over his forehead. he looked like he wanted to scream it—to tell you exactly why it hurt to see them look at you—but he just tightened his jaw.
"it just bothers me because you deserve better than their games," he managed to say, though his eyes were saying something completely different. "i just want you to be respected."
"i am respected," you insisted, giving his arm a playful squeeze. "now stop being so moody. we’re supposed to listen to those new demos tonight, remember? just you and me. no brothers allowed."
a tiny, reluctant smile finally broke across his face, but it didn't reach his eyes. "just us," he repeated, the words sounding like a promise he was desperately trying to keep to himself. "i like the sound of that."
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later that evening, the house had finally quieted down. the brothers had drifted off to different parts of the estate or gone out, leaving the recording room at the back of the house bathed in a dim, blueish light. the air smelled like expensive leather and the faint scent of the incense michael liked to burn when he was feeling creative.
michael was sitting on the floor, leaning back against the sofa with his eyes closed, listening to the raw track of a new song. you were perched right next to him, your shoulder brushing his every time you leaned in to check the lyrics written in his messy scrawl on the notepad between you.
"this part," you whispered, pointing to a line about dancing until the morning light. "it’s magic, mike. people are going to lose their minds when they hear this."
he opened his eyes and looked at you, a genuine, soft smile finally gracing his lips. for a moment, the tension from the kitchen was gone. "you really think so? i want it to feel like... like an escape. like nothing else in the world matters except the rhythm."
"it does," you assured him. "i can feel it."
the moment was perfect until the door swung open, and jackie walked in, still wearing his sunglasses even though it was night. "there she is," he joked, ignoring michael entirely and coming to sit on the other side of you. "i was wondering where you’d disappeared to. you’ve been hiding in here all night."
"we’re working, jackie," michael said, his voice clipped and cold.
jackie just chuckled, reaching over and playfully ruffling your hair. "working hard or hardly working? you know, i’m going for a drive tomorrow morning. thought you might want to come along, see the coast. get some fresh air away from mr. serious over here."
you felt michael stiffen beside you. his entire body went rigid. you quickly tried to smooth things over, giving jackie a small, awkward smile. "that’s sweet, jackie, but i promised mike i'd help him organize these tapes tomorrow. maybe another time?"
jackie shrugged, unfazed. "suit yourself. but the offer stands. you’re way too pretty to spend all your time in a dark room with dusty tapes." he leaned in close, his voice dropping to a theatrical stage whisper. "don't let him bore you to death, okay?"
once jackie finally left, the silence in the room felt heavy. michael didn't move. he just stared at the tape deck, his chest heaving slightly.
"mike?" you said softly, reaching out to touch his hand.
he pulled his hand away quickly, standing up and crossing the room to the window. "i can't do this," he muttered, his back to you. "i can't just sit here and watch them do it over and over again."
"he was just being jackie!" you stood up, feeling frustrated now. "why are you taking it so personally? i said no! i always say no. doesn't that tell you something?"
michael turned around, his face a mask of hurt and hidden anger. "no, it doesn't tell me enough! it tells me you’re nice and you’re loyal, but it doesn't stop them from trying. and it doesn't stop me from..." he choked off the words, shaking his head.
"from what?" you stepped closer, searching his face. "from what, michael?"
he looked like he was vibrating with the effort of holding it in. "from wishing i was the only one who had the right to be in your space. they treat it like a game, but for me... it’s not a game. it’s never been a game."
he looked away, his jaw tight. "forget it. let's just finish the demo."
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the rest of the session was quiet—too quiet. michael kept his head down, focusing intensely on the soundboard, his fingers moving over the sliders with a precision that felt almost robotic. you sat back on the sofa, watching him, but for the first time in years, you weren't actually listening to the music.
you were replaying his words in your head. for me... it’s not a game. it’s never been a game.
was he just being protective? or was it something deeper? you started thinking back over the last few months. the way he’d always save the seat next to him for you. the way he’d remember the most random details about your childhood in gary. the way he looked at you when he thought you weren't looking—not with the flashy, confident smirk jermaine gave you, but with a sort of soft, aching vulnerability.
your heart skipped a beat, and you suddenly felt very warm in the air-conditioned room.
"mike?" you whispered, your voice cracking just a little.
"yeah?" he didn't turn around. he was adjusting a dial that didn't really need adjusting.
"do you... do you really think i don't see what's happening? with everyone?" you stood up and walked over to him, stopping just a few feet away. "i mean, i know i act like it’s nothing, but... are you saying you think i should be taking it seriously?"
he finally let his hands drop from the board. he turned slowly, his face half-hidden in the shadows of the studio. "i'm saying that i don't like sharing your time with people who don't value you the way i do. they see a beautiful girl. i see... i see my everything."
he froze as soon as the words left his mouth. his eyes went wide, and he looked like he wanted to pull the air back into his lungs. you felt the world shift on its axis. everything. he didn't say "my friend." he didn't say "my sister."
"michael..." you breathed, taking a step closer.
the confusion that had been clouding your brain for weeks was starting to lift, replaced by a sudden, sharp realization. the reason you hadn't cared about jermaine's flirting or jackie's invitations wasn't because you were oblivious. it was because none of it felt real. none of it felt like this. the heat radiating off michael, the way his breath hitched when you got closer—this was real.
you reached out, your hand trembling slightly, and brushed your fingers against his wrist. his skin was burning.
"is that why you've been so upset?" you asked, your voice barely audible over the hum of the equipment. "not because of them... but because of you?"
michael looked down at your hand on his wrist, then back up at your eyes. the wall he’d built up all evening was crumbling. he didn't pull away this time. instead, he turned his hand over, interlacing his fingers with yours, his grip tight and desperate.
"i’ve been trying so hard to be the 'good friend,'" he admitted, his voice trembling. "i didn't want to push you. i didn't want to be another jackson brother trying to move in on you. but watching them... it was killing me. because i’ve waited so long, and i was so scared that if i didn't speak up, one of them would eventually convince you."
you looked at your joined hands, then up at him, a small, realization-filled smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. "michael, you're so literal sometimes. you really thought i’d choose a club date with jermaine over a night in the studio with you?"
he let out a shaky, nervous laugh, his eyes never leaving yours. "i don't know. i’m not as smooth as they are. i just have my music... and i have you. and i really, really don't want to lose the second one."
the air in the room felt different now—thicker, sweeter. you realized you were leaning in, and he was too. the distance between you was disappearing, and for the first time, you weren't thinking about bill, or the brothers, or the off the wall release. you were just thinking about the boy who had been your best friend, and how much you wanted him to be so much more.
the silence in the studio was no longer heavy; it was warm, like a soft blanket wrapped around the both of you. you could hear the faint, rhythmic ticking of the tape reels spinning in the background, but everything else had faded away.
michael’s thumb traced small, nervous circles over the back of your hand. he looked down at your joined fingers, a shy smile finally tugging at his lips—the kind of smile he usually reserved for his most private moments.
"you're really serious?" he whispered, his voice sounding breathless. "about them not standing a chance? i mean, jermaine... he’s got that look, and jackie... he’s got the car, and the—"
"michael joseph jackson," you interrupted, stepping into his personal space until your chest was inches from his. you looked up at him, your heart doing a frantic dance of its own. "stop listing your brothers. they aren't you. they don't look at the stars the way you do, and they definitely don't make me feel like... like this."
"like what?" he asked, his voice dropping to a velvety hush. he leaned down just a fraction, his eyes flitting from your eyes to your lips and back again.
"like i'm the only person in the world who matters," you admitted, your own voice trembling now. "you’ve been looking out for me since the day we moved here. you’re the one i want to talk to at 3:00 am, and you’re the only one whose opinion i actually care about. it was always you, mike. i think i was just too scared to admit it because i didn't want to lose my best friend."
michael let out a long, shaky breath, as if he’d been holding it for years. "you could never lose me," he promised. "i'm stuck to you like glue. my brothers are going to be so annoyed when they find out."
you giggled, the tension finally breaking. "oh, they’re going to be unbearable. jermaine is going to try to give you 'advice' and marlon is going to tease us for the next ten years."
"let them," michael said, his confidence suddenly returning now that he knew where you stood. he reached up with his free hand, cupping your cheek with a tenderness that made your knees weak. his touch was light, but his gaze was intense. "let them talk. they can have the clubs and the cars. as long as i have this."
he didn't kiss you yet—it was michael, after all, and he lived for the quiet, soulful build-up—but he leaned forward until his forehead rested against yours. you could feel the warmth of his skin and the rapid beat of his heart through his sweater.
"just promise me one thing," he murmured, his eyes closing as he breathed in your scent.
"anything," you replied.
"don't tell bill yet," he joked, a hint of his old mischievous self peaking through. "i don't think your dad is ready to see me as anything other than the kid who follows you around."
you laughed softly, leaning into him, feeling more at home than you ever had in the giant mansion. "deal. but you’re going to have to be a better actor, mike. because the way you’re looking at me right now? the whole world is going to know."
he just hummed in response, pulling you into a proper hug, his arms locking around your waist as he pulled you tight against him. for the first time in weeks, the jealousy was gone, replaced by a quiet, steady glow that felt like the beginning of a whole new era.
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ughhh i love when michael is a shy cutie patootie who is crazy in love and jealous 🥹 my bbg frr !! xoxo
— tags : grammys84!michael, established relationship, nsfw, dry humping, riding, smut (ofc), mike is hungryyyyy asf and kinda sub ?
— disclaimer : you know i never get tired of opening tumblr whilst listening to music, because i come up with masterpieces like this… thanks beyonce for feeding my delulu ahh ! i love this mj so bad he looked a lil too hot that night
𓂃˖ ࣪⊹ even after winning every prize at the grammys awards, michael can’t help but focus on his real prize of the evening, especially when she’s looking a little too fine…
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the night is a blur of strobe lights and golden statuettes, a dizzying whirlwind of success that should have been the only thing on his mind. but as the 1984 grammy awards draw to a close, michael finds his focus narrowing until the rest of the room is nothing but a distant hum. his heart is thumping against his ribs, not from the adrenaline of the wins, but from the simple, agonizing sight of her standing across the velvet-draped suite.
she is breathtaking—a masterpiece of lace and skin that makes his throat feel tight. he moves through the sea of tuxedoed men and glittering gowns with practiced grace, shaking hands and offering soft-spoken thanks, yet his dark eyes are constantly drifting back to her. he watches the way the light catches the curve of her shoulder, the way her laughter vibrates through the air, and the way her dress clings to her every movement like a second skin.
he’s trying to keep it together, to play the role of the humble victor, but the mask is slipping. as they finally make their way toward the exit, the cool night air hitting them as they move past the final line of security, he can’t resist any longer.
under the dim, amber glow of the hallway, just before they reach the waiting limousine, he steps closer, his movements fluid and feline. he doesn't touch her yet, but the heat radiating from his body is enough to make her breath hitch. he leans down, his lips ghosting over the sensitive shell of her ear, his voice dropping to a low, velvet rasp that sends a shiver straight down her spine.
"i've been watching you all night," he breathes, the words barely a whisper, yet heavy with a hunger he’s been forced to hide for hours. "and i think it’s time we leave the crowd behind."
his hand finally finds her, his fingers splaying across the small of her back with a sudden, firm pressure that leaves no room for misunderstanding. he isn't the shy boy on the stage anymore; the weight of the night has shifted, and as he leads her toward the dark sanctuary of the car, the only thing he’s interested in winning is her.
the heavy door of the limousine clicks shut, sealing out the muffled screams of fans and the persistent flicker of flashbulbs. inside, the world is reduced to the scent of expensive leather, cool air conditioning, and her. the transition from the chaotic brilliance of the shrine auditorium to the dim, hushed intimacy of the car is instant.
michael sinks into the deep plush seat, but he doesn't stay on his side for long. he slides closer, his movements graceful and intentional, until his thigh is pressed firmly against hers. the golden trophies are forgotten on the floor of the car; he has no interest in them now.
"you have no idea," he starts, his voice barely above a whisper, rich with a soft, aching sincerity. he reaches out, his gloved fingers tracing the delicate line of her jaw with the lightness of a feather. "i couldn't breathe tonight. every time i looked over at you, i forgot my own name. you were the most beautiful thing in that entire building. no... in the world."
he leans in, his dark eyes searching hers, filled with a raw, shimmering adoration. "i’m so proud of everything we did tonight, but i was just counting the seconds until i could have you all to myself. you look so perfect, it almost hurts to look at you."
his gaze drops to her lips, and the atmosphere in the car shifts. the sweet, romantic praise begins to melt into something much thicker, much more concentrated. his hand moves from her face, sliding down the column of her throat to rest right where her pulse is leaping against her skin. his thumb strokes the hollow of her neck, rhythmic and slow.
"this dress," he mutters, his voice dropping an octave, becoming a low, grainy rasp. "i’ve been thinking about the way it feels under my hands since the moment you put it on. it’s been driving me out of my mind, sitting there, having to be polite when all i wanted to do was this..."
he leans forward, burying his face in the crook of her neck, inhaling deeply. he doesn't just kiss her; he lingers, his lips pressing firm, warm circles into her skin, his breath hot and ragged against her ear. his other hand finds her waist, pulling her flush against him until there isn't a whisper of space left between them. the "innocent" superstar is gone, replaced by a man who is very aware of the privacy the tinted windows afford them.
"don't move," he groans softly against her skin, his grip tightening just a fraction, possessive and sure. "just let me feel you for a minute. we're not home yet, but i don't know if i can wait that long."
the air inside the limousine is already charged, a heavy static of unspoken desire building between them. she feels his gaze—dark, molten, and focused entirely on her—and she knows exactly what he’s waiting for.
with a slow, deliberate grace, she reaches forward and taps the intercom. she doesn't take her eyes off him as she speaks, her voice dropping into a tone that is smooth, authoritative, and laced with a quiet, honeyed heat.
"sir, close the partition, please. and take the long way home."
the mechanical whir of the glass divider sliding upward is the only sound in the car. as the translucent pane seals them into their own private universe, turning the driver into nothing more than a blurred shadow, michael’s breath catches in his throat.
he absolutely loves it.
a small, wicked smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth, his eyes widening slightly with a mix of surprise and intense heat. he finds it incredibly intoxicating—the way she just took charge, the way she claimed this space for them without a hint of hesitation. it’s a side of her that sets his blood on fire.
"i like when you do that," he whispers, his voice trembling with a new, sharper edge of hunger.
he doesn't wait another second. he lunges forward, not with his usual shyness, but with a sudden, breathtaking hunger. his hands slide up her thighs, gathering the silk of her dress in his palms, his touch firm and demanding. he moves over her, his chest pressing against hers, pinning her back into the soft leather of the seat.
"you want to be alone with me that badly?" he murmurs against her lips, his breathing shallow and quick. "because now that it's just us... i don't plan on letting you go for a very long time."
he buries his hands in her hair, tilting her head back just enough to expose the long, elegant line of her throat. he begins to trail hot, lingering kisses downward, his teeth grazing her skin in a way that makes her toes curl. the velvet interior of the car feels smaller now, hotter, as he focuses entirely on the task of showing her exactly how much he appreciated her command.
the mechanical click of the partition locking into place acts like a starting gun. the silence that follows is heavy, thick with the scent of his cologne and the frantic beat of two hearts out of sync with the world outside.
michael lets out a low, shaky exhale, his forehead dropping to rest against hers. he’s hovering just inches away, his dark curls shadowing his face, but the heat radiating from him is overwhelming.
"the way you said that..." he rasps, his voice sounding like velvet dragged over gravel. "so bold. so certain."
his hands, still clad in those iconic sequins, begin to wander with a new, frantic purpose. he moves one hand to the nape of her neck, his fingers tangling in her hair, while the other slides down to the hem of her dress. he’s not being gentle anymore; there’s a desperate, starved energy in the way he bunches the silk upward, his palms finding the smooth, warm skin of her thighs.
"you have no idea what you do to me," he mutters, his lips brushing against her jawline as he speaks, each word a warm puff of air that makes her skin tingle. "all night, standing on that stage... people screaming my name... and all i could think about was the way you’d look in the dark. the way you’d feel when no one was watching."
he shifts, moving his weight so he’s practically hovering over her, trapping her between his body and the soft leather of the seat. he begins to trail his lips down her neck, finding that one sensitive spot just below her ear and lingering there. he doesn't just kiss her; he breathes her in, his teeth grazing her skin in a sharp, playful nip that pulls a soft gasp from her throat.
"tell me again," he whispers, his voice dropping into that deep, melodic register that vibrates right through her chest. "tell me what you want me to do now that the world can't see us. don't be shy. not after that."
he pulls back just enough to look her in the eye, his gaze dark and dilated, shimmering with a mix of adoration and pure, unadulterated hunger. he reaches down, his fingers tracing the lace of her undergarments with a slow, torturous precision, his touch firm and knowing.
"i'm all yours," he breathes, a small, possessive smirk playing on his lips. "every bit of me. and i think it’s time i show you exactly what that means."
the interior of the car is sweltering now, the windows beginning to fog as the outside world disappears into a blur of city lights. michael's composure has completely disintegrated, replaced by a raw, focused intensity that is both startling and intoxicating.
he doesn't wait for her to answer with words. his hand slides further, his fingers slipping beneath the edge of the gathered silk, finding the heat he’s been dreaming of all evening. when he feels the slight tremor in her legs, he lets out a jagged, triumphant sound—half-laugh, half-groan—and leans his weight fully into her, pinning her hips against the seat.
"you’re so warm," he breathes, his voice cracking with a desperate sort of hunger. "god, you’re so ready for me, aren't you?"
he begins to move his hand with a slow, rhythmic pressure that is devastatingly precise. he knows exactly how to touch her, his fingers dancing over her skin with the same legendary grace he uses on stage, but here, it’s private, heavy, and drenched in intent. every time a soft sound escapes her lips, he catches it with his own, swallowing her moans and turning them into his own fuel.
his other hand remains locked in her hair, guiding her head back so he can feast on the sight of her. he watches her eyes flutter shut, her head tossing back against the leather, and the sight sends a fresh jolt of electricity through him. he’s never felt more powerful, or more powerless, than he does in this moment.
"look at me," he commands softly, his voice dropping into that commanding, velvet rasp. "open your eyes. i want to see you when i do this."
as she obeys, he quickens the pace, his touch becoming more demanding, more insistent. he’s exploring every curve, every sensitive inch, his thumb tracing slow, deliberate circles that make her entire body arch toward him. he’s humming now, a low, wordless vibration deep in his throat that echoes the rhythm of his hand.
"we’re almost there," he mutters against the pulse point of her neck, his breath coming in short, ragged hitches. "but i don't think i can make it to the front door. i want to feel you right here, in the dark, while the city drives by."
he shifts his position, his hand moving to the fastening of his own trousers, his gaze never leaving hers. the sweet, shy boy from the television screen is miles away; in the back of this limousine, he is a man possessed, consumed by a love that has turned into something fierce, beautiful, and utterly uncontrollable.
the leather creaks under the weight of his movements as he shifts, his breathing now a series of ragged, uneven hitches that fill the small, darkened space. he doesn't stop his hands for a second; they are everywhere, mapping out her body with a feverish desperation. he slides his palms up her ribs, his thumbs grazing the undersides of her breasts through the thin fabric, feeling the frantic skip of her heart against his skin.
"i've been imagining this since the first standing ovation," he gasps, his voice a strained, beautiful wreck of its former self. "every time they clapped, i just wanted it to be the sound of your skin against mine."
he reaches down, his grip firm and sure as he hooks his hands under her thighs. with a sudden, powerful surge of strength, he lifts her, guiding her until she’s straddling his lap. the sequins of his jacket scratch pleasantly against her skin, a sharp contrast to the heat radiating from his chest. she sinks down onto him, the friction of their bodies meeting through the layers of expensive clothing making him let out a long, broken moan that vibrates through her entire frame.
he buries his face in her chest, his hands sliding down to her hips to anchor her to him, his fingers digging into her skin with a possessive force. he’s looking up at her now, his eyes wide and dark, shimmering with an intensity that is almost overwhelming. he looks like he’s worshipping her, his head tilted back as she begins to move against him, the rhythmic swaying of the limousine adding to the dizzying sensation of the moment.
"yes, right there," he whispers, a low, guttural sound that seems to come from the very depths of him. "don't stop. just like that."
he reaches up, his gloved hand coming to rest on her cheek, his thumb dragging across her lower lip to pull it down slightly. he’s watching her reaction to him, his gaze fixed on the way her expression softens and breaks as she finds her rhythm on top of him. his other hand is busy, sliding back down to find that perfect, aching spot, his fingers working with a frantic, expert precision that makes her world tilt on its axis.
"you're mine," he breathes, the words a fierce, velvet promise against the quiet hum of the tires on the pavement. "completely mine. and i'm never letting you go back to how it was before tonight."
the limousine takes a sharp turn, but neither of them notices the sway of the vehicle. they are locked in their own private orbit, a feverish heat radiating between them that threatens to melt the very air.
now that she’s seated firmly on his lap, the friction is unbearable in the best way possible. michael’s hands are like iron on her hips, his fingers digging into the silk of her dress to hold her exactly where he wants her. he isn't just letting her move; he’s meeting her, arching his hips upward with a slow, grinding rhythm that makes his own breath hitch in a jagged, desperate sob.
"god, you feel so good," he groans, his eyes fluttering shut as he focuses entirely on the sensation of her weight pressing down against him.
through the layers of his tuxedo trousers and her delicate lingerie, the contact is electric. it’s a heavy, rhythmic pressure—a slow, agonizing grind that is perfectly in sync with the low hum of the engine. he begins to move with more urgency now, his lower body pulsing against hers in a steady, demanding pace. the dry friction of the fabric creates a heat so intense it feels like they’re both going to catch fire.
he throws his head back against the leather headrest, his throat exposed, his jaw tight with the effort of holding back a louder cry. his hands slide from her hips to her lower back, pulling her even tighter, leaving absolutely no space for the air to circulate between them.
"just like that... stay right there," he pants, his voice dropping into a desperate, grainy whisper.
every time she moves, every time she grinds her weight down against the hard line of him, he lets out a low, melodic vibration from deep in his chest—a sound that is half-song, half-surrender. his sequins are cold against her skin, but his body is a furnace. he begins to pick up the tempo, his movements becoming more fluid, more frantic, his hips snapping upward to meet her every descent with a raw, unyielding hunger.
"i can't... i can't take it," he mutters, his hands wandering up to her shoulders, his grip tightening as he pulls her down to meet his lips again. "you’re ruining me, you know that? right here in the back of this car... you’re absolutely ruining me."
he’s completely lost to the rhythm now, his eyes glazed with a mixture of love and pure, unfiltered need, his body acting on an instinct that no amount of fame or awards could ever satisfy. turn after turn, light after light, they remain lost in the friction, the heavy, rhythmic thud of their bodies the only music that matters.
michael is past the point of no return. the rhythmic, agonizing friction of her body against his has pushed him to the edge of his sanity. his breathing is no longer just shallow—it’s a series of desperate, broken gasps that hitch in his throat every time she moves. he’s burning up, his skin damp under the layers of his stage outfit, and the silk of her dress feels like a fever against his palms.
his hands slide from her back down to her thighs, his grip tightening until his knuckles are white, his fingers digging into her skin with a raw, primal urgency. he stops his own movement for a split second, his chest heaving as he looks up at her through his messy, sweat-dampened curls. his eyes are dark, dilated, and absolutely starving.
"i can't... i can't do this anymore," he rasps, his voice breaking, sounding completely undone. "the clothes, the fabric... it’s too much. i need to feel you. really feel you."
he doesn't wait for a response. with a sudden, fluid motion, he reaches for the hem of her dress, his hands trembling with a frantic energy. he’s desperate now, his movements devoid of his usual careful grace, driven by a hunger that has been building since the moment she stepped into the light at the auditorium. he bunches the expensive fabric up in his fists, his breath hot and ragged against the skin of her stomach.
"i’ve been a good boy all night," he whispers, a low, wicked growl vibrating in his chest as he presses his face against the soft curve of her belly, his teeth grazing her skin through the thin lace of her lingerie. "i smiled for the cameras, i shook the hands... but i'm done being patient."
he shifts beneath her, his hips bucking upward with a sudden, forceful pressure that makes a sharp, needy sound escape her lips. he hooks his fingers into the waistband of her silks, his gaze locking onto hers with an intensity that feels like a physical weight. there’s a fire in his eyes that burns away the shy superstar, leaving only a man who is tired of boundaries and ready to take exactly what he’s been craving.
"now," he breathes, his voice a commanding, velvet command that leaves no room for argument. "i want everything. right now."
the air in the limousine is suffocatingly hot, thick with the scent of his skin and the electric tension that has finally snapped. michael’s hands are no longer just wandering; they are frantic, moving with a feverish desperation as he works to bridge the final gap between them. he’s done with the teasing, done with the fabric, done with the polite distance of the last few hours.
he reaches for the fastenings of his own clothes, his fingers moving with a surprising, practiced speed despite the slight tremble of his adrenaline-soaked muscles. he doesn't take his eyes off her for a second, his gaze burning into hers with a raw, dark hunger that seems to consume the very little light left in the car.
"i've wanted this since the moment i saw you tonight," he pants, his voice a low, melodic wreck. "i wanted to tear this suit off just to get to you."
he guides her hips back down, but this time there is nothing but the heat of skin meeting skin. the sensation is so intense, so immediate, that he lets out a sharp, choked-off cry, his head snapping back against the seat as his eyes roll behind his lids. it’s a pure, unadulterated release, the culmination of hours of repressed desire finally exploding in the dim sanctuary of the moving car.
he grips her waist with a strength that is startling, his fingers splaying across her skin as he begins to move with a deep, rhythmic intensity. every thrust is a silent prayer, a desperate attempt to get even closer, to lose himself entirely in the softness of her. he’s humming again, but it’s different now—a low, guttural vibration that matches the frantic pace of his heart.
"you’re so perfect," he gasps against her lips, his breath coming in short, jagged bursts. "so tight... so warm... i never want to leave this car."
he pulls her chest flush against his, his sequins forgotten, his only focus the way she feels wrapped around him. he’s pouring every ounce of the love he feels, every bit of the passion that fuels his soul, into every movement. the city lights continue to blur past the tinted windows, a world away from the beautiful, chaotic, and utterly private masterpiece they are creating together in the dark.
the rhythm of the limousine’s movement is now entirely eclipsed by the frantic, heavy pace they’ve set for themselves. michael is completely submerged in the sensation, his body moving with a fluid, rhythmic power that feels like a dance only they know. every time their eyes meet in the shadows, she sees a man who has traded his crown for something far more precious—this moment, this connection.
his hands are everywhere, never still for a second. he slides them up to her back, pulling her down so he can bury his face in the crook of her neck, his breath coming in hot, desperate hitches that vibrate against her skin. he’s not just moving with her; he’s trying to merge with her, his grip on her hips firm and possessive, guiding her every descent with a low, appreciative groan.
"don't stop," he whispers, his voice cracking, a beautiful, broken sound that makes her heart race even faster than the engine. "please... just like that. i’ve never felt anything like this. you're everything."
the friction is a slow burn that has turned into a wildfire. he arches his back, his muscles taut and glistening under the faint amber glow of the interior lights, his head falling back as a long, melodic sound escapes his throat—a high, silver note of pure surrender. he’s giving her everything he is, every ounce of the passion that the world usually only sees from a distance, now focused entirely on the woman in his arms.
as the car takes a slow turn toward the private gates of his estate, he realizes the world is about to intrude again soon, and it only makes him more urgent. he quickens the pace, his movements becoming more shallow and intense, his hands tangling in her hair to bring her lips back to his for a deep, searing kiss that tastes like salt and moonlight.
"i love you," he breathes into the kiss, the words heavy and sweet, a contrast to the raw, physical hunger of his body. "i love you so much it's driving me crazy."
he feels the familiar tension building, that final crest of the wave, and he holds onto her like she’s the only thing keeping him grounded. the windows are completely opaque now, a private cocoon of heat and velvet, as they finally reach the peak together, the silence of the night outside shattered by the quiet, beautiful chaos happening behind the partition.
the silence in the limousine is slowly filled with the sound of catching breath and the soft rustle of silk, until suddenly, a tiny, muffled sound breaks through—a shy, breathless giggle from michael.
he pulls back just enough to look at her, his iconic curls completely disheveled and his dark eyes sparkling with a mix of exhaustion and pure, radiant mischief. he looks down at his rumpled sequins, then at her dress—which is definitely not in the same condition it was when they left the red carpet—and he starts to laugh properly, that high-pitched, melodic sound that always feels so genuine.
"oh my god," he whispers, hiding his face in his hands for a second before looking back at her with a wide, toothy grin. "look at us. we are a complete mess. i’m supposed to be the man of the hour, and i look like i’ve been through a beautiful, beautiful whirlwind."
he pulls her back into his arms, but this time it’s all warmth and sweetness. he starts peppered her face with tiny, butterfly kisses—on her nose, her forehead, her chin—making her laugh even harder. he’s glowing, not from the stage lights, but from a deep, giddy happiness that only she can spark in him.
"i promise you," he chuckles, his voice soft and bubbly, "the driver is probably sitting up there wondering if we've forgotten how to get out of the car. he’s going to open that door and see me looking like this, and he’s going to know *exactly* why i’m smiling like an idiot."
he takes her hand, interlacing their fingers and squeezing tight, his gaze softening into something so tender it could melt. "i don't care about the trophies on the floor. i don't care about the speeches. this... being here with you, laughing like this... this is the real win. i’m so incredibly in love with you, it’s actually kind of crazy."
they stay there for a few more moments, tangled together and giggling like two teenagers who just got away with the biggest secret in the world. as the car finally comes to a complete stop at the front of the house, they share one last, silly look, the most famous man in the world and his favorite person, completely lost in their own perfect, messy, private universe.
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wallahi i was shaking while writing this omg 😭 can’t even imagine how this would feel in real life bruh ?????? ANYWAYS hope y’all liked it xoxo
SUMMARY: You and michael spend some quality time together while he works late in the studio
CONTENT: fluff, smiley giggly michael, lovey dovey established relationship, not smut but it gets just a little saucy at the end, a brief make out sesh, mentions of dry humping if you squint, was picturing bad era michael when i wrote this but feel free to choose your fighter
AUTHOR’S NOTE: Alrighttt the Michael biopic has me revisiting my decade long hyper fixation. That’s right!! we’re writing some mj fanfiction because I have no shame!! This little drabble came to me in a dream so I had to write it out lol hope you enjoy
You shut the book in your hands, gently setting it down in your lap. The words on the weathered pages started to lose their meaning as you finally gave up on reading.
Repetitive melodies and the quiet murmuring of lyrics from the man sitting a few feet away made it nearly impossible to focus.
He had assured you it wouldn’t be too loud in the studio tonight as he practically begged you to come sit with him while he worked on new music.
Michael made a habit of it— asking you to join him for brainstorming sessions. He once teased that you were his greatest muse.
He was extremely private, never directly involving you in his writing or recording process. Most of the time you would simply sit in the room with him while he worked. You’d thumb through a book and let the incomplete tracks and rhythmic tune of his voice act as background music to your reading.
Tonight was no different. He was focused on the notebook in front of him; sticky notes and scribbles littered the pages. The same melody filled the air over and over again as he hummed along with different words, each one acting as a piece to the never ending puzzle of his next album.
The weight of your book sunk into your lap as you let your back rest against the cushion behind you. Your lids felt heavy and your mind was foggy with sleep as you began dozing off.
“Sleepyhead.”
The familiar voice carried to your side of the room, lulling you out of your slumber before you could completely drift off.
You opened your eyes just enough to see Michael turned around in his chair, facing you with a gentle smile tugging at his lips.
“Well forgive me, I didn’t realize you’d be working well into the early morning hours when you invited me to tag along.” Your sarcasm only made his grin widen.
He watched you for a minute, a small giggle fighting its way past his lips.
“C’mere” He motioned you over to him with a slight tilt of his head toward his notebook.
“I need your opinion on something.”
His voice was soft against the quiet of the room, and a smile still stained his lips as he turned back around to face the array of sticky notes plastered on the surface in front of him.
You stretched from the couch, closing the distance between you and Michael in sleepy strides.
You stood next to him, following his gaze to the words written on the notebook below.
He sat in his chair, fingers tracing the lines of lyrics in front of him.
“Which do you like better?”
Without even looking at you, he began playing the unfinished track that you’d been hearing all night.
You listened to his voice as he sang the first string of lyrics written in his notebook, watching as the written words flowed so effortlessly off the paper and into the room to the tune of his voice.
He played it twice, each time singing a different set of lyrics, both similar yet somehow entirely different.
You leaned down, peering at the two different options written on the page, Michael still humming softly next to you.
As you studied them, you felt the warmth of his palm rest at the base of your spine.
Michael was no stranger to physical touch— not with you.
He was obsessed with having his hands on you, even in the most innocent ways.
He was constantly reaching for your hand, intertwining your fingers with his; always wrapping an arm around your waist to pull you closer.
“I think I like the first one.” Your stare was still fixed on the notebook below, as your body angled further over his.
“It feels right.” Your mind was still sleepy as you gave your final verdict.
The room fell silent for just a few seconds, and you felt his thumb rubbing gentle circles against your lower back— tender and soothing.
“It feels right.” His voice was a delicate chuckle as he repeated your words into the nearly empty room.
“First one it is.” His words still held a subtle giggle.
With one hand on your back, the other reached for a pen as he wrote a few more words in his notebook.
He looked up at you, admiration in his gaze and that same sweet grin on his lips, “Thank you.”
His hushed words were simple, yet laced with an abundance of gratitude and love.
The gentle devotion in his voice and the careful touch of his fingertips along your spine sent you leaning down further as you placed the softest kiss on his cheek.
“Anything for you.” Your response met him with the same adoration.
You lingered like that, staring at one another. Smitten smiles nestled into your cheekbones, faces only inches a part.
“Yeah, you mean that?”
Michael’s tone shifted ever so slightly. There was a certain playfulness in the way he spoke; the question tucked behind a veil of mischief.
You loved this side of him; when his quiet, gentle demeanor was replaced with something more light hearted and whimsical.
You murmured a quiet, “mhmm” nodding your head and leaning in even closer, this time just barely pressing your lips against his.
It was a quick, gentle kiss, but it was enough to cause Michael’s hand that was once at your back to snake around your body, lightly grabbing your waist and pulling you against him.
Your body responded to his touch, sinking down into his lap, your legs straddling his and your hands cupping his jaw.
This time the kiss shared between you was much deeper, and it was impossible to miss the way he smiled ever so slightly against your lips.
His hands gripped your waist pulling you completely against him. Your lips moved in harmony; a whirlwind of hunger and affection as you melted further into his touch.
You began trailing kisses toward his jaw, under his ear, down his neck…
Each touch of your lips on his skin was determined and methodical— your actions ruminating in the passion radiating between you.
Soft hums fell from his lips as his fingertips tightened at your waist, fighting the urge to guide your hips against his.
You continued peppering kisses to his skin
down
down
down—
Your mouth was dangerously close to his collar bone when you felt one of his hands loosen from your hip.
He was reaching behind you, grabbing the pen from beside his notebook and jotting something down on one of the ink filled pages while your lips were busy on his neck.
“michael…” you sighed in defeat as your face fell into his shoulder.
“Hold on, hold on,” his words were a breathless hush as they spilled from his lips.
You buried your head deeper into the crook of his neck, your giggle muffled against his skin.
You sat there for a moment soaking in the warmth of his chest against yours. Letting him scrawl out whatever idea just came to him.
gummygunk
germansingergirl
origamiaround
prguitarman
dededos
janainaart
