Cutie🤎.

I'm everywhere you'll find me. Love ya, Stay rich!🧸

[spogog]

i aspire to be this whimsical

just full of pure joy and whimsy

[visualsbyaina]

i want this video tattooed on my skin

[urbanfunkchild]

i fear the new mj fans on tik tok have seriously lost the plot - reposting ai slop pics of michael with abs and shit. im so over it, its making me so mad.

you can find michael incredibly attractive as he is, (or was, fml this made me well up a bit) but why are we reposting a photo of him that is completely edited and made up? When we could just be reposting beautiful REAL images of him throughout his life?

we need to keep his legacy safe, and all of his photos whether taken professionally or by him, or home/childhood photos etc are important to the documentation of him and his career.

i fear people are saving and getting attached to images of him that aren't even real and it makes me so sad :'( He would not have liked this - its why he hated the press, they used to doctor and edit his images all the time. lets be better than that!!!

annyyyywayssss gnight all i AM TIRED!!!

[michael-gifs]

[gh0ulxxc]

𝑜ℎ 𝑚𝑦 𝑎𝑛𝑔𝑒𝑙 ‎ꫂ᭪݁ ᴍɪᴄʜᴀᴇʟ ᴊ. ⸝⸝

𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗋𝖾𝗆𝗂𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝗈𝖿 𝗁𝗈𝗐 𝖻𝖾𝖺𝗎𝗍𝗂𝖿𝗎𝗅 𝗁𝖾 𝗂𝗌. ⌗

『𝗈𝖿𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝖾𝗋𝖺』 𝗑 𝖿𝖾𝗆!𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ 𓈈 ── .✦ 𝗐.𝖼. 1800+

𓍯𓂃𓏧♡

The dressing room at smelled like hairspray, expensive cologne, and the faint heat of stage lights bleeding through the walls. Outside, the crowd screamed loud enough to shake the mirrors, but inside, everything felt strangely quiet.

Especially Michael.

You sat cross-legged on the velvet couch, watching him pace the room in glittering black slacks and a half-unbuttoned silk shirt. His curls were still damp from the shower he’d rushed through after rehearsal, little droplets catching at the slope of his neck. Every few seconds, he glanced into the mirror—and every single time, his expression dimmed.

You noticed it immediately.

“You’re doing it again,” you said softly.

He stopped pacing. “Doing what?”

“That thing where you stare at yourself like you’ve done something wrong.”

Michael looked away almost instantly. “I’m not.”

“You are.”

He gave you a small shrug, pretending to fuss with the cuffs of his shirt. “I just…” His voice trailed off. “I dunno.”

You stood and crossed the room slowly, careful with him the way one handled fragile glass. Fame had made people think he was untouchable, but you knew better. You knew the nervous habits hidden beneath the sequins and applause. The way he tugged his sleeves down when he got insecure. The way compliments made him blush so hard his ears turned pink.

Most of all, you knew he hated mirrors.

You reached him gently. “Talk to me.”

Michael sighed quietly, eyes fixed on the floor. “Joe used to say my nose was too big.” He laughed once, bitter and embarrassed. “Said my skin was bad. Said I looked weird.”

Your chest tightened.

Even now, years later, those words still lived inside him.

“Michael…”

“And people always compare me to my brothers,” he continued, voice smaller now. “Jackie’s the handsome one. Jermaine’s smooth. Tito’s cool.” He swallowed hard. “I just look… awkward.”

You stared at him for a long moment before lifting your hands to cup his face.

The second you did, his breath caught.

“Look at me.”

Reluctantly, his eyes met yours. Dark brown. Soft. Nervous.

Beautiful.

“You are the prettiest man I’ve ever seen,” you whispered.

Michael immediately ducked his head with a shy laugh. “Stop.”

“No.” You smiled. “I’m serious.”

His cheeks pinked instantly.

You brushed your thumbs beneath his eyes. “Those big eyes? Pretty. Those curls? Pretty. That smile?” You leaned closer. “Deadly.”

He groaned softly, embarrassed. “You always say stuff like that.”

“Because it’s true, angel face.”

The nickname hit him like it always did.

Michael physically froze.

Then the blush spread all the way down his neck.

“Oh my God,” he muttered, covering his face with one hand while laughing nervously. “Don’t call me that.”

“You love it.”

“I do not.”

“You do.”

His shoulders shook with bashful laughter, and finally—finally—the tension eased from his body.

There he was.

Your Michael.

You slipped your fingers through his, pulling his hand away from his face. “There you are.”

He looked at you carefully. Vulnerably.

“You really think I’m pretty?”

Your heart nearly broke.

You leaned up and kissed him before answering.

Slowly.

Tenderly.

Michael melted the second your lips touched his. He always did. One hand instinctively slid around your waist while the other trembled lightly against your cheek.

You kissed him again.

And again.

Until his shy little sighs filled the room.

When you pulled back, he looked dazed already.

“See?” you murmured against his mouth. “Pretty boys get kissed like this.”

Michael laughed breathlessly. “You’re crazy.”

“About you? Absolutely.”

That earned you another blush.

He turned his head slightly, trying to hide it, but you caught his chin and kissed the corner of his mouth. Then his jaw. Then beneath his ear.

Michael sucked in a sharp breath.

You felt his fingers tighten at your waist.

“Baby…” he whispered weakly.

“Hm?”

“You can’t do that before I go onstage.”

“Why not?”

“Because—” He broke off with a flustered sound as you kissed his neck again. “Because I’ll mess up.”

You grinned against his skin. “Michael Jackson? Mess up? Impossible.”

He buried his face in your shoulder with a groan. “Angel face was already bad enough. Now you’re teasing me.”

“You’re cute when you blush.”

“I’m not cute.”

“You’re adorable.”

He whined quietly, which only made you laugh harder.

Then suddenly he pulled back just enough to look at you properly.

And the softness in his eyes nearly destroyed you.

“No one’s ever talked to me like you do,” he admitted.

The playfulness faded from your expression.

You stroked his cheek gently. “They should’ve.”

Michael stared at you like he didn’t know what to do with kindness.

Then he kissed you first this time.

Harder.

Needier.

His mouth moved against yours with a desperation that made your knees weak instantly. Like he was trying to absorb every sweet thing you’d ever said to him before the world could take it away.

You kissed him back just as fiercely.

His hands slid to your hips, pulling you flush against him, and you felt the shiver that ran through his body when you sighed into his mouth.

“God,” he whispered between kisses. “You make me feel crazy.”

“Good crazy?”

“The worst kind.”

You laughed softly before kissing him again, slower this time. Michael hummed happily against your lips, completely gone now, completely soft for you.

You loved this version of him.

Not the superstar.

Not the icon.

Just Michael.

Shy, affectionate Michael who blushed every time you called him pretty.

Your fingers drifted through his curls, scratching lightly at his scalp, and he practically melted against you.

“There’s my angel face,” you teased quietly.

“Oh my God…”

His face turned crimson again.

You giggled while he hid against your neck. “You’re so easy.”

“You’re mean to me.”

“But you like it.”

A pause.

“…Maybe.”

You laughed loud enough that he started laughing too.

Then there was a knock at the dressing room door.

“Five minutes, Michael!”

His entire body jolted.

“Shoot.”

You smiled. “Nervous?”

“Always.”

You took his hands again. “You know what I see when you walk onstage?”

“What?”

“A man so beautiful people can’t look away.”

Michael stared at you.

Then blinked rapidly like he might actually get emotional.

“You’re really trying to ruin my makeup now,” he muttered.

You softened immediately, brushing your nose against his. “You deserve to hear nice things.”

His gaze dropped to your lips.

“So do you.”

Before you could answer, he kissed you again.

Deep and lingering.

The kind of kiss that felt less like lust and more like devotion.

Still, the heat between you sparked instantly.

Michael’s hands slid lower along your back, pulling you against him with a soft sound in his throat. You felt him smile slightly when you kissed him harder in return.

“That’s dangerous,” he whispered.

“You started it.”

“You looked too pretty sitting over there.” He paused. “Couldn’t help myself.”

Now it was your turn to blush.

Michael grinned triumphantly. “See? I can do it too.”

“You’re learning.”

He leaned in again, kissing you slower this time, savoring it. His lips were unbelievably soft, every movement affectionate and careful until you deepened the kiss and felt him lose composure immediately.

A shaky breath escaped him.

Your fingers slipped beneath the open collar of his shirt, tracing the warm skin of his chest, and Michael nearly melted on the spot.

“Baby…” he breathed.

“Hm?”

“You keep touching me like that and I’m never going onstage.”

You smirked. “Tempting.”

He laughed quietly before kissing you again, more desperate now. You could feel years of insecurity in the way he held you—as though he still couldn’t believe someone wanted him this much.

So you showed him.

Again.

And again.

You kissed every inch of his face until he was blushing so hard he couldn’t even look at you properly anymore.

His forehead.

His cheeks.

The tip of his nose.

“Stop hiding from me,” you murmured between kisses.

“I’m trying,” he laughed weakly.

“You’re beautiful.”

Another blush.

“Angel face.”

“Please…”

You grinned. “Never.”

He shook his head, smiling helplessly now. “You really got me wrapped around your finger.”

“And you love it.”

“…Yeah.”

The honesty in his voice made your chest ache.

Michael rested his forehead against yours, breathing softly.

“You know,” he said quietly, “when I was little, I used to pray I’d wake up looking different.”

Your heart dropped.

“But now?”

He looked at you carefully.

“When you look at me…” He swallowed. “I don’t hate myself as much.”

Emotion tightened your throat instantly.

You kissed him softly, pouring everything you couldn’t say into it.

When you pulled away, you whispered, “You shouldn’t hate yourself at all.”

Michael smiled faintly.

“I’m trying not to.”

You touched his cheek. “Good.”

Another knock interrupted you both.

“Michael! Seriously!”

He groaned dramatically into your shoulder. “I don’t wanna go.”

“You’re a global superstar. You have responsibilities.”

“But I wanna stay here kissing you.”

Your grin widened. “You’re needy tonight.”

“Your fault.”

“Probably.”

He stole one more kiss before reluctantly pulling away. Still, he kept holding your hand like he physically couldn’t stop touching you.

At the door, he hesitated.

Then turned back suddenly.

“What?”

Michael walked straight toward you again, grabbed your waist, and kissed you hard enough to leave you breathless.

When he finally pulled away, his cheeks were pink again.

“There,” he said proudly.

You blinked. “What was that for?”

“So I can think about you onstage.”

Your stomach flipped.

“Michael Jackson,” you whispered dramatically. “Are you flirting with me?”

He laughed shyly. “Maybe a little.”

“Dangerous man.”

“Only for you.”

Then he started toward the door again before pausing one last time.

“Hey?”

“Yeah?”

He smiled softly.

“Call me angel face again after the show?”

Your entire expression melted.

“Every day if you want.”

That blush returned instantly.

Michael ducked his head with a laugh before finally disappearing out the door toward the screaming crowd waiting for him.

And just before it closed completely, you heard him mumble under his breath—

“Angel face… Lord have mercy.”

₊˚ෆ

a/n : changing my whole aesthetic that i had so yea !! i can’t believe this man was every even insecure bc he is like the most majestic person evaaa

[etrnalmuse]

victory day — june 13th, 2005.

[luvsinstatic]

[michaeljacksonfamily]

[spogog]

I can’t be the only one who loves this hair era

more people need to appreciate the Afro liikkkeee

[multifandomposts-blog]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐌𝐞𝐬𝐬iest 𝐌𝐚𝐧 𝐀𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐞

warnings: crack fic, chaotic Michael, celebrity gossip, Michael exposing everybody’s business, cursing, zero privacy in Hollywood apparently, best friend reader

The Jackson house was loud. (my fav opening)

Not unusually loud. Normal Jackson family loud.

People talking over each other. Janet was yelling at Randy from across the room. Plates clinking against the dinner table while Katherine tried very hard to keep some kind of order together.

And in the middle of all of it?

Michael was on the phone.

Again.

Jermaine pointed his fork toward him immediately.

“There he go.”

Michael turned slightly away from the table dramatically, one hand over the phone receiver.

“Girllll No, because LISTEN…”

— — —

“She was NOT supposed to tell him that.”

Janet immediately dropped her head onto the table, laughing.

“Oh, my God.”

Michael lowered his voice, even though literally everybody could still hear him.

“I’m serious.” “He found out backstage and threw his award at the wall.”

“If I were him, I wouldn’t. It's the only one he won in like 15 years

The entire table was shocked.

“M I C H A E L.”

Michael looked offended immediately.

“What??”

Jackie stared at him.

“You are genuinely the messiest person I’ve ever met.”

Michael gasped.

“I am NOT messy.”

“ y’all don’t understand.” “She told me not to tell anybody  AFTER she already told me.” “So technically…”

“Michael, it does not work like that.”

Janet was crying, laughing now.(just like me when I see Jermaine's hair, no shade)

Katherine shook her head slowly.

“Baby, everybody tells you things because they expect you to keep it to your self.”

“That is not true,” Michael defended immediately.

The entire table yelled: “YES, IT IS.”

Michael rolled his eyes before going back to the phone.(I love this mental image)

“Anyway…” “Wait till I tell you what happened after that.”

Jermaine pointed at him.

“See?” “HE CAN’T STOP.”

— — — — —

By the time dinner actually started calming down, Michael was finally off the phone.

For now.

Everybody had barely started eating again when Michael suddenly froze halfway through taking a bite.

Janet rolled her eyes.

“…what now?”

Michael slowly put his fork down.

“Oh my God.”

Marlon already started laughing.

“What NOW??”

Michael looked genuinely horrified.

“I FORGOT TO TELL HER.”

Jermaine slammed his hand against the table.

“NO.” “Sit DOWN.”

“I can’t.” “I forgot the BEST part.”

And before Katherine could even stop him, Michael jumped up from the table and practically sprinted toward the kitchen phone.

“MICHAEL JOSEPH JACKSON…”

Too late.

The whole family could hear the dialing from the other room.

Then:

“Hey its me, Mike.” “Okay, listen.”

A dramatic pause.

“You are NEVER gonna believe what happened next.”

“He acting like this gossip gonna expire.” (guess who said this)

— — — — —

The worst part was 

Michael genuinely did not think he was messy.

At all.

That became very clear later that week when you were sitting in the backseat of his car while he casually adjusted his sunglasses and whispered:

“You know they secretly hate each other, right?”

You blinked slowly.

“…what?”

Michael nodded calmly.

“Mhm.” “They almost got into a fight backstage at the awards show.”

You stared at him.

The celebrities in question had literally just done an interview talking about how much they adored each other.

“How do you even KNOW that??”

Michael looked confused by the question.

“Because I was there.”

“…Michael.”

“What?”

“You know entirely too much about people.”

“No, I don’t.”

“You absolutely do.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Anyway, he was flirting with backup dancers all night.”

— — — — — — — 

You turned toward him.

“You were WAITING to tell me that.”

Michael smiled, “…maybe.”

— — — — —

Award shows were somehow the worst. like reality television.

The second somebody walked past the table, he leaned closer immediately.

“That marriage will not last another year.”

“They literally just renewed their vows.”

“Mhm.” “And he still cheating.”

You stared at him, vowing to never tell him your business.

“How do you KNOW these things??”

Michael looked genuinely confused again.

“Because people tell me stuff.”

“WHY??”

“I don’t know.” “They trust me.”

You laughed so hard you almost cried.

“Michael, nobody should trust you.”

Michael looked offended.

“I’m trustworthy.”

Right as he said that, another celebrity walked by.

Michael lowered his sunglasses slightly. (them glasses worked overtime)

“Ohhhhh.” “Speaking of mess…”

— — — — —

One night, he called you at almost two in the morning, sounding stressed.

“Hello??”

“Okay, don’t panic.”

You immediately sat up in bed.

“What happened??”

Michael lowered his voice dramatically.

“…they broke up.”

Silence.

“…who?”

“Them.”

“Michael, WHO IS THEM?”

And then this idiot went on for a full 45 minutes about celebrity relationship drama like it was world-ending news. 

By the end of the call, you were laughing your ass off. 

“You are ridiculous.”

“People just tell me these things.”

“You are NOSY.”

“No I’m not.”

“You called me at two in the morning.”

“Because this is serious.”

— — — — —

The only thing funnier than Michael gossiping…

was the fact that he somehow still acted shy in public.

Soft-spoken 

Polite answers to invasive questions.

Meanwhile, this guy knew all the scandals in Hollywood.

And every time someone trusted him with information, he always said the same thing:

“Don’t worry.” “I won’t tell anybody.”

Then immediately called you afterward.

I'm backkkkkkkk

@simply-lovley44 @cocomilaa @blcknebula @stiflersbabymama @callmeoncette @needjoekeery @nuttyrebelflower @1eliana123-blog @ladyearthsea @rastharex @darkgreengrl @bananajoeclone @violet0182 @minghaossv @melynex @thebabykashmere @ghoulxeg

@raefoxiegirl @peacemakersbeloved @devynrulesboisdrool @skiicoreee @boredpretty

[mjsapplehead]

Off The Wall Era ❤️❤️❤️

[heaven-seas]

michael and this FACEEE

he said (-᷅ ε -᷄)

[lovelyways]

THRILLER 40 (2023) dir. Nelson George

[featheredfawns]

this image is literally so terrifying and symbolic to me can we talk about it more

[rctteddiaries]

HOLD ME — marlon jackson one-shot .

pairing : marlon jackson x black!fem!reader content : the jacksons era ( 1970's ) . joesph jackson . mentions of physical abuse . not proofread . let me know if i've missed anything . synopsis : in which — marlon jackson shows up outside your window in the middle of the night, you become the only place he feels safe.

( authors note:: had to write something for my favoriteee jacksonnn )

Clink.

You shifted in your bed, brows furrowing. Before you could fully process the sound, it came again, louder this time in the silence of your room.

Clink.

You jolted upright, heart racing as your eyes darted around the darkness. The room was barely visible except for the pale strip of moonlight slipping through the curtains and spilling across the corner of your floor.

Then another small tap echoed through the room.

Your gaze drifted toward the window.

Pushing the covers off, you carefully slid out of bed, avoiding the creaky floorboards so you wouldn’t wake your parents.

You pulled the curtain aside and squinted into the dark.

A familiar figure stood near the tree outside, hood pulled over his curls.

“Marlon?”

He waved his hands frantically, trying to make sure you could see him.

You quickly pushed the window open, confusion clouding your face. “Are you crazy? It’s like two in the morning, Mar.”

“I know,” he whisper-yelled. “Please.”

The desperation in his voice made your expression soften immediately.

You nodded and motioned for him to come up, watching as he climbed the tree before squeezing himself through your window.

This wasn’t unusual for Marlon. He showed up at your house unannounced all the time. But never this late. Never at two in the morning.

You and Marlon had been close ever since you were kids. Your families attended Kingdom Hall together, and the two of you had grown even closer after ending up in the same youth group. Somewhere along the way, he’d become your best friend.

“I’m gettin’ real good at it,” he said proudly as he brushed dirt from his hands and jeans.

“You’re gonna break your neck one day.”

He looked up at you, and that’s when you finally saw his face clearly.

His eyes were red and swollen, like he’d been crying.

Your voice softened instantly. “Marlon…”

He looked away.

You stepped closer. “What happened?”

He shrugged, trying to brush it off, but you saw right through him.

“Joseph.”

You sat down on the edge of your bed and gently pulled him down beside you. “What did he do?”

Marlon fidgeted with the sleeves of his hoodie. “Nothin’ new.”

That alone told you it was bad.

He let out a bitter laugh. “We been rehearsin’ all day, and I messed up one part. One little part.” He stared down at the floor. “And he just… went off.”

Your chest tightened.

“He said I wasn’t focused enough. Said I don’t work hard enough.” His jaw clenched. “Always the same thing. ‘Be like Michael. Do it like Michael.’”

His voice cracked slightly at the end.

“I’m never gonna be good enough for him.”

“That’s not true.”

Marlon didn’t answer.

Silence settled over the room while moonlight filtered through the curtains, catching the tears he was trying so hard to hide.

“Marlon.”

He finally looked at you, and the look in his eyes nearly broke your heart.

The moment your arms wrapped around him, his breath hitched. He froze at first, almost like he didn’t know how to react. Then, slowly, his shoulders sagged and his arms slipped around your waist.

“I got you,” you whispered softly.

He buried his face in the crook of your neck, trembling as quiet tears soaked onto your shirt.

For a while, the only sounds in the room were the soft hum of the ceiling fan and Marlon trying to steady his breathing.

Eventually, he pulled away, wiping at his face with the sleeve of his hoodie before letting out a small, embarrassed laugh.

“I’m supposed to be tougher than this.”

“Says who?”

He didn’t answer, but he didn’t have to. You already knew.

Instead, he kicked off his shoes and stretched out across your bed. Shaking you head, you laid on your back, placing your head on his stomach.

“You can stay here awhile,” you whispered.

He lifted his head slightly to look at you. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. Long as you stop throwin’ rocks at my window.”

[amnesia-sc]

one thing led to another | michael jackson

michael jackson x fem!reader

your best friend is dating one of the jackson brothers and one summer day she invites you over. who knew playing a game of twister would lead to this. (up to bad era).

t/w: smut, 18+ mdni, oral (fem receiving), fingering, p in v, breeding kink i guess? but also no?

wc: 5k

The California sun beat down on the pavement as you sat on the grass at the edge of the driveway. Watching through heart shaped sunglasses as the boys played basketball and your best friend sprawled out next to you sunbathing.

You were bored out of your mind and it was too hot to focus on the book you brought.

“Why’d you even bring me with you?”

“You need to get out more and you’re depressed.”

Rolling your eyes, you rested back on your palms. One would think having a friend be engaged to one of the Jackson’s would offer a little more excitement, but apparently not.

You’d been over to the house before, but only briefly. The first time you had been so nervous of potentially getting to see the Michael Jackson that you thought you might puke, but he had apparently been in the studio all night and likely wouldn't be joining.

You were far too embarrassed to ask your friend to get an autograph for you and knew you’d would rather drink a gallon of gasoline than give any sort of a hint of having a crush on the man.

“I’m not depressed,” you muttered.

“Right.”

“I’m not!” You just felt lonely sometimes, is all. And sometimes that feeling grew into not wanting to leave the house for three weeks.

The sound of a car caught your attention as well as the rest of the guys and your heart immediately lodged itself in your throat when you realized it was Michael.

The family yelled their greeting and you watched him get out with bated breath as he dug through the trunk for a moment.

Oh my god I’m seeing him with my own eyes.

“Guys, look! I got Twister.” He held up the box with a smile but it fell ever so slightly when his brothers weren’t paying him much attention.

“Twister? Really?”

“You guys wanna play?” He asked, a little hopeful.

“What are we gonna do with Twister?” Tito asked.

“Come on, it’ll be like the old days—“

“I can’t be playing games,” Jackie laughed him off before turning back to basketball.

“I’ll play with you.” You blurted the words out before you could think better of it.

Marlon pointed at you, “there you go. Problem solved.”

Michael turned to look at you and you felt like you’d been struck by lightning.

He considered you for a moment before he smiled again. “Oh, you must be the best friend I’ve heard so much about, it’s nice to finally meet you.”

Standing up on shaking legs, your own smile was tense. What had you just gotten yourself into? Twister? With Michael fucking Jackson. Good God.

“Keep missing each other, I guess.” There was a brief pause and you nodded down to the box. “So, Twister? Is it alright if I join you?”

You were probably delusional but you momentarily thought you saw him blush.

“Sure, yeah. Follow me.” He gestured with his head as he led the way into the house and you shot a panicked look over your shoulder at your friend whose expression seemed shocked, though amused more than anything.

Breathe. Just fucking breathe. He’s just a guy.

You felt lightheaded as you followed him up the stairs and down a hallway, and holy shit I’m about to be in Michael Jackson’s bedroom.

He opened the door for you and the moment you stepped in, you couldn’t help but smile.

“I love your room,” you said, taking in all the stuff he had.

He set the bag from the toy store down and rubbed at the back of his neck. “Sorry, it’s a bit of a mess.”

“I don’t think it’s messy, just filled with things you love.”

His lips tugged up at the slide slightly and he nodded. “I like that.”

A few beats of silence passed and he cleared his throat. “So, I’ll get this set up.”

Forty five minutes later you two were tangled up in a mess of flesh and bone and you had been laughing so hard your ribs hurt.

“You’re cheating.”

“I would never,” he laughed, inching a hand out to flick the spinner.

He tried to move his right foot to blue and the second he shifted you both collapsed into heap on the ground.

“This has been one hell of an ice breaker, I’ve already seen so many sides of you.” You laughed behind your hand and he covered his face, half shy but also an attempt to hide a laugh.

Rolling off of him, you laid down on your back trying to catch your breath. Reality felt fuzzy in a delightful way for the first time in what felt like ages.

“Thank you for doing this, by the way.”

You waved him off, “it was fun. Besides, I needed the reminder.”

Michael rolled onto his side and propped his head up with hand. His focused gaze on you surely made you look like a tomato. “Reminder for what?”

“To not take life so serious, sometimes. I don’t know, be a kid again? It probably sounds silly—“

“No, I get it.”

You shared a smile.

You felt like you had been living on a high the past two weeks after that. Catching yourself smiling without realizing it even though you hadn’t seen him since.

You were in the middle of making dinner when the phone rang. Nearly tripping over one of your cats as you made your way over and plucked it off the wall.

“Hello?”

“Hi, it’s Michael.”

You froze.

“Hello?”

Your tongue felt stuck to the roof of your mouth and then your cat meowed loudly, wanting his dinner.

“Hi, sorry. I just wasn’t… hi.” You squeezed your eyes shut and lightly banged your head on the wall.

“I hope it’s okay, but your friend gave me your number and I just wanted to ask if you were free tonight. I know it’s short notice.”

“No, no. I’m free.” Jesus, desperate much? “Um, what do you have in mind?”

And that’s how you ended up standing on the front porch, too nervous to ring the doorbell. He told you to dress comfortably and you weren’t entirely sure what that meant so you landed on jeans and a crewneck.

Deep breaths, you’re fine.

You rang on the doorbell and a few moments later it swung open and there he was. Dressed in simple black slacks and a white tee. Looking fine as hell.

Focus.

“Come on in,” he smiled and as you walked past him, you got a whiff of his cologne. God, he smelt heavenly.

“So, what’s the plan?”

“You like movies?”

You don’t know how it happened but later into the night you must’ve dozed off, your head slumping onto Michael’s shoulder given the distance between you had gradually dwindled.

You woke up briefly, still hazy with sleep with the glow of the television dancing across your eyes when you felt a weight against you. Michael had dozed off as well, his head resting atop yours and you could now die a happy woman.

You knew it didn’t mean anything.

That’s how your friendship developed. That’s how the weeks went by: simple, elementary-like hang outs. Games and movies mostly. Sometimes a pool day with the rest of the family.

You didn’t mind. You loved it, actually. Getting those small moments with him sprinkled across the months when he had a rare bit of free time.

Your friend flicked some water at you.

“What?” You lowered your heart glasses, glaring against the sun.

“You’re glowing.” She mused.

“In a sun-kissed way or put more sunscreen on way.”

“No, silly. Just… you look happy.”

You shrugged and lifted your shades back up. “I am happy.”

“Good. Keep it up for my wedding, please.”

Rolling your eyes, you kicked water at her.

Meanwhile up on the back patio, Tito had his feet propped up while he and Michael played cards.

“So, what's the deal?”

Michael raised a brow at him, “what do you mean?”

Rolling his eyes at his brother, he nodded to the two girls in the pool. “You and her.”

Michael let out a laugh and shook his head. “We’re just friends.”

“Right. And is that all you wanna be?”

Placing down a card, he let his eyes drift to you. Watching how the sunlight caught in the pool and glimmered off your skin like glitter.

Right off the bat he thought you were beautiful. Seeing you the first time sitting in the sun with those heart sunglasses you always wore, your hair done up in a messy way that still had a sense of intent behind it. When you two first played Twister all those months ago, he couldn’t remember the last time he had been that nervous around a girl.

And he had… thought about it. How could he not? He was a romantic at heart but he felt like with you he had truly found something special. Their own safe little bubble to escape to and he didn’t want to ruin it.

Besides… “I don’t have time for stuff like that, Tito.”

He clicked his tongue, “don’t forget to get out of your own way, sometimes. You’re allowed to want normal things.”

Later that night he woke up in a sweat and his pajama pants feeling a little too tight, the dream he had been having still on the edges of his mind and he groaned before falling back against the pillows.

It wasn’t the first time and probably wouldn’t be the last.

Your sunglasses were perched on your nose as you held some food out to Lily, watching in amusement as the llama plucked it from your hands.

“There you are, Marlon said you were out here somewhere.”

Turning, you saw Michael approach with that smile to die for plastered on his face. “You ready?”

“Mhm.” With a scratch behind Lily’s ears, you followed him back into the house. It was Twister Tuesday, after all.

You had taken off your shoes as Michael shifted through records before deciding which one he wanted to play.

The air felt a little different but you couldn’t quite place why. Maybe it wasn’t different at all. You always felt a little overwhelmed being with him. His presence felt otherworldly. Like his soul was too big for body.

“I’ve been stretching, so prepare to lose.” You cracked your knuckles for effect and he shook his head with a laugh before spinning the dial.

Twister was a huge mistake.

A massive, horrible mistake.

He didn’t know what was wrong with him. Maybe it was his conversation with Tito, but he knew he’d been feeling… something, for a while now. Maybe his brother just shone a light on it to make it finally click for him.

He liked you.

Which was incredibly annoying because you probably didn’t like him back and now here he was, completely tangled up around your body.

Such a dumb idea.

You turned to get a more balanced angle on your next move and your ass was right next to his crotch and he looked up at the ceiling with a silent prayer.

He was a gentleman through and through but that didn’t stop his mind from racing back to all those dreams he’s had.

Pressing you into his mattress. You bent over in the studio. His head between your thighs in the backseat of one of his cars: the red Corvette to match your heart sunglasses.

Fuck.

“Michael, it’s your turn.”

He cleared his throat, trying to maneuver in the best way possible to reach down to grab the spinner without completely pressing himself into your backside.

A small voice in the back of his head told him to do it anyway, but he snuffed it out.

When it landed on what color he needed to move his hand to, he felt like he was going to throw up his heart but he also couldn’t help the rush of adrenaline.

He could do this. It’s just a game. He bent over slightly to move his hand to the correct position, catching himself from falling over by gently resting his hand on your thigh for a moment and he could’ve sworn he felt you suck in a breath.

“Your turn.” It came out lower than he intended.

When you reached over to spin for your turn, it caused you to push back a bit and directly into him.

He was pretty sure his brain short circuited.

“Sorry,” your voice was a quick whisper and you quickly corrected yourself and he let himself peek down at your face. You were blushing like crazy but what really did it in for him was you biting into your bottom lip.

“It’s okay,” he reassured. Something not quite human was trickling into his mind because he was only aware he had leaned forward till he felt you lightly be pressed into him again.

Your breath slowly grew heavier, or maybe it was his. He wasn’t sure.

“You still haven’t moved.” He muttered, his tone dancing on the edge of a whisper.

What a dangerous game this had turned into.

You hummed and when you slid one of your legs back he couldn’t help it as he sucked a breath in sharply.

Your legs were spread wider now.

And he was as hard as a rock and ninety percent sure you could feel it.

He barely moved and he felt your pulse, there, against him.

Biting down on his lip so hard he thought he might bleed, he spun for his turn.

A moment passed.

Your voice was rough around the edges, “what’s it say?”

He could do this. Either his head was filled with lustful delusions of you also wanting this or he was about to make an absolute fool out of himself. But he wasn’t thinking straight so he went ahead with the reckless idea.

“It says my hand should go here,” and ever so slowly did he dance his fingertips along your side before resting on your hip.

You jolted but he kept his grip firm and when you whimpered he felt whatever restraint he had snap.

He grinded into you.

“Oh.” Your balance shifted and you fell forward on your hands, knees buckling but he went down with you, easily turning you over so you were laying beneath him on the floor.

The moment he caught sight of your blown pupils, he knew he had you.

“Michael?”

“Yeah?”

Your breaths were heavy as his face was mere inches from yours.

“Please—“

His mouth was on yours not a moment later, his heart fluttering when he felt your arms wrap around his shoulder to bring him closer.

It was messy and perfect.

His hips settled against yours and like always they had a mind of their own. But instead of music making them move, this time it was a woman.

He thrusted against you, the layers of clothes between your bodies beyond irritating and having you moan into his mouth only sent him into more of a frenzy.

He had never done this before.

His conscience prayed he locked the door because he knew his mother would have a heart attack even though he was in his twenties.

His tongue danced against yours and his hand lightly gripped your chin. You tasted like those cinnamon candies you loved and he couldn’t get enough of it.

His other hand danced down, hooking onto the edge of your pants to begin tugging them down and he decided he wanted to explore some more. His mouth and tongue trailing down your neck and chest, pushing your shirt up and out of the way.

When his mouth landed on one of your nipples, your back arched off the ground and you slapped a hand over your mouth.

“I wanna hear you,” he tugged your hand away and reached over to quickly turn the music up a little louder.

“Let me hear you,” he repeated, trailing his mouth down over your stomach and his eyes caught yours as he finally began to tug your pants down.

He had no idea what he was doing. But he was a perfectionist and he was determined to figure out how to make you feel just right.

“Michael, I’ve… I've never actually—“

“I haven’t, either.” He leaned forward and kissed you again. “We’ll figure it out together.”

You didn’t know what to expect, just that you were sure you had to be dreaming.

Then his fingers were suddenly down there and your hips jolted in surprise.

You were definitely awake.

And Michael was moving your underwear to the side and lightly dragging his fingers over you and you nearly thought you might cry.

In fact you thought you might start sobbing out of ecstasy when you watched him lift two fingers up to his mouth to get them wet before reaching back down.

Not like he needed to but you appreciated the visual.

God, his hands. You had always loved them but you had suddenly found a new appreciation for them as one slowly started to sink in.

“Oh!” That’s all you could manage with your head thrown back. It was a little tight but it didn’t hurt.

“You’re beautiful,” Michael muttered and you looked back at him and saw he genuinely looked mesmerized.

You were sure you were about to melt.

“I need more.” He was going torturously slow and it wasn’t enough. Not nearly.

He didn’t waste time as he sunk a second finger in and began to thrust them in and out, leaning forward with his other hand to capture your mouth with his.

It felt like you’d been injected with opium the moment his thumb trailed upward and rubbed against your clit. An embarrassing sound left you and you felt him smile into your mouth.

“I like that sound.”

And since he was good at everything almost immediately, he worked you with his fingers like it was second nature to him. Watching you with half lidded eyes as you came undone beneath him.

Just as you realized you were about to come, he disappeared from your line of sight and suddenly felt something hot and wet against you and you had to bite back a shout.

The moment you looked down to see him with his mouth on you as his fingers thrusted, you came.

Although you two still had your regularly scheduled game or movie nights for when he was available, some other things were thrown into the mix.

He couldn’t seem to get enough of you. Even if the hour was absurd after working on his next album, he’d call to see if you were awake.

Now, you two hadn't gone there yet. Though you desperately wanted to and he clearly did as well.

God, you felt high.

Two nights ago he had called a cab to come pick you up from your apartment and had you driven to his studio. It was three in the morning, the night silent.

When you knocked on the studio door and it opened, you didn’t even have time to say hello before his arms were around you and his lips were on yours.

He loved to kiss. Seemed to adore it.

Had you pressed against the wall and devouring you like he was starved.

You loved it and sometimes when you were going to bed at night you grew terrified you’d wake up and this was all a dream.

Two weeks had passed and you hated how much you missed him. Becoming addicted to his presence, which was inherently problematic given most of the time he was on tour for months on end.

You were curled up in bed trying to read a book when the phone rang and you practically lunged towards your nightstand.

“Hello?”

“Hey, baby.”

You let out a silent yell at that and fell back into the bed, kicking your feet in the air.

He had never called you that before.

You cleared your throat. “Hey.” So nonchalant, nice. “How’s New York?”

“Oh you know, busy. But I do like it.” There was a beat of silence. “I wish you were here.”

You stayed up talking till four in the morning.

A few more days had passed and this was supposed to be the day he came back. He said he’d call once he was settled at home and you couldn’t help but pace all day.

Deciding to hell with it and start getting ready.

You really didn’t know what you two were. Obviously not just friends, but you’ve never actually talked about it.

You wouldn’t even know where to begin and dating someone like him came with, well… the whole world being in your business.

You didn’t know if you could handle that. Then again you could be getting way ahead of yourself and Michael just liked fooling around.

He was the biggest star in the world, why would he have time for a girlfriend?

As you finished your hair and makeup you told yourself you didn’t mind, getting these pieces of him was enough. You were lucky. Just appreciate it while it lasts.

Besides, based on literally every news piece about him, girls throw themselves at him all the time. What makes you different?

Tying a robe around you, you were digging in your closet for an outfit when there was a knock on the door.

Your head was so caught up in the depressing cycle of your thoughts that you hadn’t bothered to look through the peephole and you stopped short at the sigh of Michael standing in front of you.

“What?-“

“I couldn’t wait.” He stepped in and grabbed hold of your face as he kissed you, kicking the door shut behind him.

“Michael, I would’ve cleaned—“

“Shut up.” He picked you up, blindly navigating your apartment considering he had never been there before.

You felt a little giddy at his urgency, meeting his mouth with a matched ferocity and eventually felt him lower you onto your bed.

You sat up on your elbows as you watched him undo the buttons on his shirt before tugging it off his head. Biting your lip as he undid his belt with ease.

He paused for a moment as his thumbs latched onto the edge of his pants, looking at you with a hungry glint in his eyes.

“I want you to be my girl.”

You bit your lip, trying to contain your smile and you nodded. “I want that, too.”

“Publicly,” he added. He seemed tense all of the sudden and you sat up, inching towards the end of the bed and you rested your hands on the sides of his face.

“Michael, I’ll be there. Right by your side.”

His eyes shut at your touch. “The press is… they’re like hounds. I just want to protect you from that, but I don’t want to hide you either.”

“Hey,” you pulled him into a hug and felt your heart beat against his as his arms wrapped around you. “As long as we’re by each other's side, they can’t get to us. They don’t matter, it’s just you and I. Okay? I can handle it.”

He pulled back a bit, brushing some of the hair out of your eyes. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Michael hummed and before another breath could pass, he had you on your back again and was kicking his pants off.

You’d seen him a few times now, but the sight of him still made your mouth water.

As he began to crawl up the bed, he kicked your legs apart with his knee and when you realized you two were about to properly have sex for the first time you felt so lightheaded the room started to spin.

You had honestly been under the assumption he wanted to wait to go all the way until marriage.

“This needs to come off,” he tugged at the sash of your robe and pushed the fabric aside, clearly pleased there was nothing underneath it.

His mouth was on yours, open and hungry, his tongue tracing the inside of your mouth and catching the gasp you left out when you felt the tip nudge against your entrance. Gliding up and sliding against your clit before going back down again, feeling like an absolute tease.

“Michael,” you didn’t mean for it to sound like a whine but it slipped out anyway.

He pressed his forehead against yours, seeming to try and restrain himself.

“I want to put a baby in you,” he said it quietly, almost to himself and you were sure you went even more red if possible.

“I… I mean, maybe one day. I’d prefer a ring first.” You weren’t entirely sure if you had crossed a line saying that because he leaned back to look at you. Really look at you.

Biting the inside of his cheek as he did so, and after a moment he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear and kissed you lightly.

“Noted.”

Then his hips snapped forward and your jaw fell into a silent scream.

It was overwhelming in all the best ways and he laughed as his mouth caught yours, not wasting a second as he began to thrust into you at a relentlessly delicious pace.

Based on his dancing alone, you knew he could move his hips but oh my god.

You didn’t mean to but your nails dug into his back, desperate to find something to cling onto and you were sure you drew a little blood. It didn’t seem like he cared, in fact it might’ve spurred him on further because he then hooked both of his hands under your knees and brought them up, folding you in ways you didn’t think possible and fuck did he hit a whole new angle.

“Michael,” you cried. It felt good. Great. Too much.

“Say my name,” he urged, his pants heavy in your ear and you knew you’d never get enough of him.

You cried out his name again as you came, only half aware you were crying until you felt his thumb wipe away the tears and his thrusts got erratic.

You were sure you were seeing a glimpse of heaven as you watched him falter, his hips slamming into yours, muscles in his stomach tightening and his head thrown back as he came.

He collapsed on top of you, your sweat coated bodies and the scent of sex in the air providing a blanket of comfort.

You felt him twitch inside of you, maybe still a little too delusional to realize what the two of you had just done.

“I told you I wanted a ring first.” You half joked.

Michael kissed your shoulder and laughed.

Actually, he was laughing a little too much and you raised a brow at him. “What?”

“Would it be insane to say I already have one picked out?”

Four months later, the two of you walked hand in hand out of the wedding venue. Waving and smiling to the hundreds of press and fans as Bill ushered you to a car.

It wasn’t your wedding, but you and Michael decided to make it official with the public at his brother's wedding.

The glint of the engagement ring on your finger caught the flash of every camera.

Once the door shut, the outside world got a little quieter and Michael lifted your hand to his and placed a kiss on your knuckles.

The Bad tour would be starting soon and you’d get a little less time with him. That was alright, you’d be joining some of the major shows at least.

You assumed the universe knew the timing wouldn't be right and you didn’t end up pregnant. That didn’t help the slight heartbreak you felt when you handed him the negative test, watching his smile falter a bit but covering it up the best he could. He had pulled you into a hug, saying you’d try again soon. That it would happen when it was supposed to.

“Michael, I love you.”

He squeezed your hand with a smile. “And I love you.”

It was his second show at Wembley and you knew he was exhausted. He wouldn’t be up for a few more hours, given the sun was only just starting to rise.

You had already been up for an hour, fingers thrumming on the counter as you sipped on some tea. The ring on your finger a little heavier given you two had gotten married during a gap on the tour.

You were now Mrs Jackson everywhere you went and it was just a little bit sweeter considered you and your best friend were now sister-in-laws.

You still got butterflies every time you saw him. Your husband. He really wasn’t shy about you and you loved it. Blushing anytime he walked by because he loved to lightly slap your butt.

Your eyes flicked down. Not knowing what to do next. How long to let him sleep. He needed it, you knew that. You also knew he’d mad if he found out you didn’t tell him as soon as you knew. You also knew that anger would evaporate in a second.

He could sleep a little longer.

It was around noon when he finally got up, rubbing at his eyes and calling out for you with a rasp coating his voice.

“Baby?” He walked out into the living area of the hotel suite, pajama pants hung low on hips and he kissed you good morning.

As he turned around to grab some orange juice from the fridge, you slid the pregnancy test across the counter and watched in slight amusement as he came to an abrupt halt the moment he turned around.

You bit your lip, “you’re gonna be a daddy.”

His hand came up to his mouth, apparently speechless for a moment before he turned to look at you. Eyes turning red but you didn’t have time to dwell on it before he picked you up and kissed you.

(this was most definitely nawt a self insert)

michael jackson masterlist

[thatmichaeljackson]

[-intheround]

“I love the waterparks! I wish I could do that more often these days but I’m allergic to the sunlight. I really can’t go in the sun without an umbrella but then there are the times when you’re just like, it looks like so much fun and you just say ‘forget it’ I’m going. I have to do this!” -Michael Jackson