A little about me: I’m a 26-year-old Latina writer who loves all things vintage, theatrical, and just a little gothic. This blog is meant to be a fun, welcoming space where we can celebrate creativity together.
One thing that’s important to me: I love supporting fellow writers and artists. If I reblog your work, it’s because I genuinely enjoyed it. I don’t care what race or ethnicity your reader or OC is—I love seeing people create stories that mean something to them. There’s room for all of us to tell stories, support one another, and share the love.
Thank you for stopping by—I can’t wait to share this journey with you all.
its weird as fuck how you only ever write black reader lol n i sent u a dm asking about thag and you ignored me when i wasnt rude??? kys stupid hoe, your fics are trash anyways dumb black bitch
so well oh well mhm… im — right then going to laugh about this cause ionk what else to do?? mjblr a mess 😭😭
𝓪𝓻𝓮 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓱𝓪𝓹𝓹𝔂 𝓽𝓸 𝓫𝓮 𝓲𝓷 𝓹𝓪𝓻𝓲𝓼? - michael jackson x black female reader
synopsis: michael invites you to paris after three long months apart.
pairings: michael (bad era) x artprofessor!blackfemalereader
tropes & warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI — smut (a lil fluffy smut), pwp, sub!michael, softdom!reader, established "secret" relationship (more about that later), long distance & reunions, michael is down bad, mentions of phone sex, mentions of religion, detailed descriptions of male anatomy, oral (f receiving), fingering, praise kink, use of "mama, baby", etc., dirty talk, praise kink, p n v, cowgirl, ass smacking, creampie
wc: 4.2ish
an: when i say this shit put me in a tailspin? pls take me as i am or have nothing at all like auntie mary say LOL. you'll definitely be seeing these lovebirds againnnnnn!
You were really, really happy to be in Paris.
Michael knew it was always a dream of yours to go there. So when he surprised you during your summer break with a flight to come visit him in the City of Lights, you were sure your gleeful screams were loud enough to disturb your neighbors.
Sure, you hated long flights without him and he knew that, but you’d fly through hell for him, and he knew that too. And the last few months were hell without him.
Daylight rewarded your patience by gently waking you up in the warm, secure arms of your boyfriend.
Just the sight of him resting made up for the turbulence in your heart.
He was bathed in the softest golden glow. The sheer balcony curtains diffused the warm morning sun into sparkling beams that stretched across the room, caressing the high points of his soft, slumbering face. It was your turn to be lulled by the gentle sleepy flutter in his chest as he held you close, but you couldn’t tear your eyes away. His sleep-smushed hair was so cute that it made you giggle in his arms, dark curls haphazardly splayed every which-way and contrasting against the ivory pillowcase. It took everything out of you not to touch him. To resist selfishly sweeping the preserved spirals on his forehead out of his eyes to ogle him better. Resist running your fingertips down the bridge of his nose. His long lashes spidered from his resting lids, creating shadows above the unconcealed designer bags under his eyes.
Watching him sleep was a secret joy for you, especially ‘cause he rarely got any these days. Michael evaded sleep like his fame and fortune would completely vanish if he closed his eyes and rested for once. Before the third leg of his tour, his schedule was brutal - studio sessions at the wee hours of the night, early morning choreography rehearsals followed by an afternoon stage fitting, maybe a quick bite on the way to a hospital visit or charity event before an occasional award show, rinse, repeat repeat repeat. Of course you’d fit time in between to nag him about it, completely throwing off his schedule, which would end up with you both playfully bickering. And then he shut you up the best way he knew how, leaving you dazed and wondering where he got the energy to put you through the mattress like that. Not long into pillowtalk, you’d notice him mumbling replies... soon asleep to the sound of your heartbeat, peacefully nuzzled between your bare breasts with sweaty curls stuck to his face. Content with ignoring his commitments for just a little bit.
You wouldn’t be surprised if your version of Heaven was like that. Shielded away from the demand of the world, the drama and entitlement that came with money, glitz and glamour.
Somewhere you and Michael would be at peace, tucked in his arms like you were now.
Your tired, pretty baby.
His lips looked as plush and as soft as they were, staring at them made you bite your bottom one to hold yourself back from waking him with a barrage of kisses. You toyed with the idea, honestly. Then, his grip on you tightened in his sleep… corners of his mouth upturned a bit, like his mind’s usual chaos had been replaced with something beautiful, serene. His whisper-soft sigh made his Adam's apple bob in his throat, highlighting the dark passion marks on his neck and chest…
Memories of last night’s activities made you hot all over.
Morning brought calm after the storm that had passed through the suite last night, leaving items of clothing scattered around the room, floor… reminders.
🗼
The way he embraced you. Delved into you. Kissed you like your mouth was holy, reverent… a necessity to sustain his life and purpose as true as air to breathe. His lips admonished every piece of your skin revealed as he ceremoniously undressed you, doe-eyes sparkling up at your warm expression. You caressed his hair as he whispered his excitement to see you, inhibited desires he’s been holding on to for this moment as well as praises onto your deep toned flesh. His voice was soft, but sure, making you squirm anxiously against his body. You could physically feel aches of his longing as you unbuttoned his shirt to return the gesture, pressing hot, open mouth kisses against his collarbone and pecks, taking advantage of a moment to show you missed him just as much. It was so sweet, so romantic, it affected him deeply… made him nervous like it was the first time all over again, hands trembling as he touched you, helping you out of your clothes…
The primal look in his eyes as he stared at you quite literally halted your breath.
In juxtaposition, he moved intentionally and took his time… like rushing would break you out of the spell you both were in. You were fully naked now so he pulled you close, and soft sounds emitted from you as his mouth peppered kisses around your breasts. He spent what felt like forever there, slightly bending to change his vantage point while never taking his eyes off yours. His tongue swirled around and around your right nipple first until his lips pulled back with suction so delicious, you genuinely pouted when he pulled away. Releasing your skin with a wet pop, he smiled and switched to the left nipple, teasingly flickering the tip of his tongue over it as he rolled the right one between his fingertips.
Michael knew how sensitive you were there.
So he continued, hungrily licking and sucking around until your gentle sighs turned into whimpers and your hips rutted towards his bulge. Your wordless desperation for touch was graciously answered when he slid his clothed thigh between your legs, giving you some much needed friction. Needy sounds littered the air and he couldn’t help but groan at how good you sounded, cherry on top of the sensation of your warm, wet rotations against his leg. Your head lolled back briefly as he kept going, overwhelmed at the sight of him gripping your tits in his large hands and pressing them together to greedily lap and suck both nipples at the same time.
The distinct feeling of your stickiness seeping through his slacks made you blush but he just smirked, coyly asking if he could come down there, taste it, as if you would say no to being worshipped in that way.
On your knees, baby.
It was a simple acknowledgement from you regarding his request, yes, but the authority and affection coupled with your neediness made him burn all over. Made him want to obey. And when he kneeled before you, all he could think about was how he prayed for this, how blessed he was to be in your presence after three long months. If only his pastor could see him now.
All that could be heard in the hotel suite was the sound of both of your labored, anxious breathing. His hands held your hips tenderly, pulling you closer until his nose was pressed against the moist juncture of your thighs, inhaling.
God, I missed you.
Voice tender, you could hear the rawness of his emotions bubbling up onto the surface… as if your pheromones unsheathed something painfully rooted deep inside of him, sealed until that very moment. All the overworking, the decision making, performing, being on all the time, battling with loneliness, unworthiness. He didn’t have to go through any of that with you, or worry about not being enough. He could just feel, and be. And God, it felt good to just feel. Just be.
Your hands gently caressed his face and you weren’t surprised to find tears there. Using your thumbs, you gingerly brushed them away from his eyelashes, cheeks... He wouldn’t look at you, maybe feeling shy and a bit exposed with his silent outpour of relief but it didn’t bother you at all… you know he loved you, and you loved him and all that came with him including his gooey heart. You tilted his chin up anyway.
In the sweetest voice, you redirected his shyness and instructed him to keep his eyes on you. He nodded and there you stood with his arms wrapped around your middle while you rubbed his shoulders softly, played with his curls, whispered that he was okay, safe with you. That you were proud of him, and that he could let go and unpack, breathe and be present. You had time. He fought for this time with you, through hell and high water.
Your desire was still simmering, but your heart ached for him as you cared for his spirit in a way that only you could. You’d do it a million times, and he knew that too.
After his sobs subsided, Michael ran his hands across your flesh, affectionately kissing the soft skin under your belly button. Heat was in his eyes now as he smiled, genuinely smiled, relieved, ready for more.
I’m so grateful for you, mama. Can I show you?
His fingers spidered down your ankle, lifting it to plant a kiss there first before dragging his lips up your calf so achingly slow, full-body goosebumps bloomed across your skin. He adjusted your leg until the back of your knee was resting on his shoulder, waiting for permission.
Mmhm… yes Mikey, show me.
You watched his gaze fall to your love bite adorned breasts, then at his own hands as they wrapped around to hold your waist, thumb tracing your belly button, until his eyes landed on the absolute delicacy between your legs. With his head tilted, he nuzzled into your folds, eyes rolling closed and groaning as soon as the mouth-watering flavor of your pussy hit his taste buds.
Shit, Michael was a starved man, and for three months he had an insatiable craving that no food could quell. A craving only you could satisfy.
Your body jerked in response to the vibrations of his moans. His grip immediately shifted to your hips to support you, but mostly to press you firmly against his mouth. Closer and closer… until you couldn’t tell where your clit ended and the gentle laps from his mouth began. Before Michael, you never knew a man could be hungry for you.
And hunger was an understatement.
Michael loved eating you. His favorite way to submit to you was by consuming you wholly, completely. He’d gladly lose time with his face buried in your pussy, accomplished only when your moans went hoarse, your slick smeared all over your thighs, glistening around his mouth, hands, bed, everywhere… Like his purpose was to be the vessel your body rocked desperately against in pleasure. Being yours, being used by you, pleasing you… he couldn’t do it enough.
Lust and longing created an ache that moved between the two of you ceremoniously, built from too much time apart. He moved like he rediscovered home in your softness, the wetness of you, like it had been all this time. Like he was homesick and the plushiness of your heated flesh against his mouth was the key that unlocked the door to his most favorite place in the world. His tongue moved languidly around your clit; up, down, up, down, slow circles, repeat, repeat, repeat, making you open-mouth moan and chase with your hips. Any thought you had in your mind was wiped like an Etch-A-Sketch when you stared down at his wide eyes, pupils blown, panting.
Fuck baby, you’re eating me so good—you’re doing so so good…
Your well was overflowing, so much so that you could hear him slurping and moaning between your legs. He responded against your wet flesh, words coming out between short pants and grunts as you caressed his curls.
Anything f’you, mama—so wet, wanna please you. Needed this bad—missed you on my tongue…
The sound of your heartbeat was loud in your eardrums. Your breath was coming out in uneven pants. It was getting harder and harder to keep steady… Michael had you right where he wanted you and he knew it. He swirled his tongue down to slip inside your twitching hole, encouraging you to ride his face while his nose rubbed against your swollen nub. Your body trembled in his grip as your hips rocked back and forth, letting him know you were close… so he added suction, rhythmically lapping at your clit at the same time. Trembles turned into twitches and shudders wracking your body… intensely, unwavering.
Right there—yes—God, I missed you so much, Michael—yes make me cum—don’t stop…
He obliged like you knew he would. His grip tightened on your ass while he hungrily nodded and shook his head for friction, urging you over the edge and mumbling for you to let it go with his mouth still attached to you.
You came roughly, moaning through gritted teeth and gasping as your back bowed—the sensation so intrinsically euphoric and expansive and missed that it unwrapped you, bringing tears to your eyes. You sobbed earnestly, feeling raw, gasping, shaking as he continued with his firm grip and unwavering stare. Michael was never content with just making you cum. He wanted more. To break you open too. Return the favor, remind you of how much he wanted to crawl in your skin and live there forever.
He loved you so much.
So much so, that he curved his long fingers inside your slick entrance and pumped them in and out, in and out, in and out… sending you babbling and flying full speed off the edge into the warmest orgasmic waves, eyes rolling back. Each convulsion reminded you that even when you were thousands of miles away, you didn’t have anything to worry about. That he still belonged to you.
God, there were so many reasons to be happy.
The remnants of pleasure that overcame your senses finally calmed, and you gathered yourself as he stood in front of you, content, licking you from his fingers, wrist and mouth.
Take those off and sit on the bed. You instructed, not taking your eyes off him.
It still made him shy sometimes to be naked in front of you. Like one day you’d decide you didn’t like what you saw. So you always made sure to pay attention while he undressed, this time with your hand anxiously rubbing between your legs. He was beautiful.
The sinews of his arms and shoulders flexed with the lean pecs on his chest, distracting you a bit as he slid his belt out of the loops of his slacks and tossed it to the floor next to his button up. You loved art, taught art history at a local college in your city, so for all intensive purposes, you knew art. And he was art. What he would deem were splotchy areas of skin were intricate designs of the masterpiece that was him. Hand sculpted just for you. It made you cry sometimes, how conscious he felt about his body. He was the owner of a dancer’s frame that worked tirelessly, even through shame, creating magic and beauty anyway despite all the pain it endured. Exposure therapy was nights and nights of kisses from you, lips decorating every “imperfection” he declared, until his eyes were wet and he felt covered in love, affection, acceptance, and desire.
The same desire you felt watching him gracefully slide out of his black slacks and briefs.
There’s my pretty baby…
Your praise made him breathlessly smile and blush behind his hands as he kicked his pants off and sat on top of the plush duvet. He was so cute, God, even embarrassed, his dick sticky and twitching against his belly. Even with the taste of you still rolling around on his tongue.
You reached between his legs to press your fingertips against his erection, effectively causing his hands to ease away from his face as both your eyes fell to his lap. His foreskin eased down with your fingers to reveal more of his flushed mushroom tip, engorged with the blood flow of arousal and glistening with precum. The urge to take him in your mouth almost won… you wanted to devour him until your jaw was sore, until his shuddering body folded in half, until he filled your throat with every spurt of his pent up arousal and the only names he could whimper were yours and God’s. So tempting… your mouth watered as you gawked unashamed, wrapping your fingers around what you would call a very sizable, warm, thick, throbbing work of art, fair skin peppered with deeper toned areas like the rest of his body. But you’d satiate that craving later. You really needed him inside you.
Michael’s breath hitched as his hips involuntarily bucked upward at the contact. You loved him needy. Smirking, you took your hand away until his body relaxed. Then you did it again, teasing him with lighter touches to hear him whimper and sigh before cupping his chin with your free hand to press a soft kiss on his lips.
Mmm eeeasy, cowboy… that’s what you get for hiding from me. D’you know how much I love you? Missed you?
If you one day got lost in his bright brown eyes, you’d never return. He nodded gently, lids heavy as he stared at you like you were the expanse of the universe.
Yeah, mama, I do.
You shook your head and tsked, stealing another kiss as you climbed on top of him.
Not hiding, you don’t. Lemme remind you…
The invitingly warm and snug suction into your walls, hot and slick and enveloping, did wonders for his memory as you descended his dick. An airy fuck left your lips as you sunk, lower and lower… He was inside you, and even just that felt so good—good enough to begin to sooth the ache distance created in your soul and body all at once.
Watching the blissed out expression wash over his pretty features activated something in your mind that you couldn’t really explain. His shallow breaths, his eyes fluttering upward in response to your pussy slowly accommodating every inch of him was worth every anxious minute you spent on that flight, bouncing your leg, ready to get to him. Every late night phone call you spent with him laughing the ache away, crying it away, moaning it away. You missed the feeling of fullness, the way he fit perfectly inside you. Better than your fingers. Better than the toys you used on yourself when he wanted to hear you lose control for him in his absence. His body shuddered as you eased your mouth against his for another slow kiss, savoring the taste of yourself on him as he bottomed out.
Mmh, you barely fit, shit… feel how much I miss you, hmm?
He couldn’t control his whimpers as his hips undulated underneath you, body begging you to move.
Fuuuuck, yes—God—pleaseeee, mama, please I need you…
You wanted to relish in it a little bit.
Riding him satisfied your desire for control, your want to make him lose his composure and inhibitions completely and get lost in you. This was your show now—this bed, your stage, and both of your bodies were performing a tantalizing duet that always topped the charts of your bedpost. Michael didn’t need any music to fall into step with your illicit choreography, body molding into your moves just right. He was so anxious, so ready to feel what dance you’d do next he was twitching inside of you, hands holding your hips so tight you were sure he’d leave fingerprints.
Eyes on me…
You kept direct eye contact with him while rotating your hips, waist winding in a slow and steady rhythm you knew would drive him crazy as you held his neck. His pulse thumped under your palm as he groaned, rhythm of his heart matching your own.
There was nothing in this world… nothing, more encouraging than the grip of Michael’s feverish hands as he kneaded your body as you rode. Nothing more stimulating than the muffled tenor of his open-mouth moans against your jaw, mixing with your lead vocal to create the most sensual harmony. He danced his fingertips down your back, making your spine elongate and curve into him more until your nipples rhythmically grazed his chest with your movements. This was Heaven to him.
He wanted more. One of his large hands came down on your ass, smacking it roughly. The whimper from your lips at the impact made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, the tinge of pain mixed with the mind-numbing tingles in your limbs encouraging you to go faster.
Feels good, don’t it? Mmhm I can tell, baby… it’s twitchin’ so deep in me, mm, you ready to cum?
Your slow ride turned into a full-on bounce and Michael leaned back a bit to capture the moment, taking mental pictures he wanted to keep for the rest of his life. God, you were so beautiful, staring at him through barely open eyes, battling between staying present and succumbing to the pent up tension up in your lower belly as your body moved at a dangerous pace, bruised breasts bouncing on each impact. His eyes locked on where you both connected, watching incredulously as your swollen pussy made him disappear and reappear like magic while your thighs slapped down on his over and over again with a wet plap plap plap. Admiring all the creaminess you’d worked up around his dick made his balls tighten even more… that milky white substance in a thick ring around the base of his shaft, some of which had since smeared everywhere between his legs.
You sped up just a little more and….
Oh God, oh you feel s’good mama yes—I’m about to—please
Michael’s mouth gaped open, words coming out jumbled as his body curled up on itself and against you instinctively. His hips rose off the bed, tensing as the pressure of his orgasm rose from his thighs to his heavy sack, then to his dick, until it twitched into an eruption as it all became too much to contain. He was hitting your spot deliciously still, enough to trigger your own release but you were relentless, focusing on squeezing your muscles around him as you came up, pulsing them as you came down. The sound of your ass smacking in his lap was faster now, and you did it over and over and over until the room was filled with his grunts and whimpers and pleads for you not to stop, face contorted in pleasure.
Making him cum first always tipped you over the edge.
There was something so dirty about it; the warm feeling of his release filling you up in hot spurts, so much that you’d end up using it as lube to go again. There was always so much, he’d leak out of you into his own lap or on the sheets where you both could watch between sessions… And if he was feeling particularly sentimental that day, he’d collect any of his renegade cum on his fingers and push it back inside you. For safe keeping, he’d say.
Michael shut his eyes tight at the beginning of your spasms, senses overloaded and overwhelmed and still wanting more. So much so, he took matters into his own hands, literally, slipping his hand between your bodies to roll his thumb around your swollen clit as he continued to twitch inside you, still hard. The gracefulness of your movements graduated into desperation, and there was an unmistakable tremble in your body as you chased the feeling, moaning in crescendo… probably loud enough for the whole hotel floor to hear.
That’s it mama, yes yes yes—take it, use me—I wanna feel you, s'good please
His encouragement was joined by a firm grip on your ass, taking over from underneath to pound up into you until your vision blurred around the edges. You came hard, screaming his name, walls convulsing so intensely around him that he had no choice but to cum again...
🗼
Michael shifted underneath you again, the gentle caress of his hand on your back taking you out of your vivid memories.
“Baby.” His voice was thick with much-needed rest. He sounded so good, your ears immediately perked up in attention, chin resting on his chest.
“Yes?”
“You watchin’ me sleep again?” The edges of his mouth quirked up, contradicting the playful judgement in his tone.
“I can’t help it, you’re so pretty…”
His eyes opened in a squint from the brightness, already blushing as he looked down at your doting face.
“Baby…” He warned but you didn’t listen, instead leaning up to dramatically kiss his hot cheeks over and over until you felt his body shake with laughter against you.
Once you got out most of your pent up affection, you planted a sweet kiss on his lips.
“I could lay here with you forever.”
“Forever, huh? Ironic you say that…” Michael smirked, pulling one of your hands up to kiss your knuckles. “I was thinkin’ about startin’ somethin’ forever, today.”
Your initial confusion lasted for about five business minutes until you caught sight of your left hand. There, a big, fat radiant cut diamond sat snug on your fourth finger.
Yes.
taglist: @justalocallesbian, @narratedillusions, @enhasdihsucker, @blcknebula, @somenichegirl, @heeheeow, @someonessoulrecord, @fortuncooki, @baldmonkmonks, @darkgreengrl, @heubstr, @96kittii, @cinnamoncunt (please let me know if you'd like to be added or if i missed you!)
history era! michael jackson x wife! female reader
summary. it is now 1997, he comes back home — only to see that his home with you is no longer one. everything’s changed, and he doesn’t understand.
content warning: toxic behavior in relationship (avoidance & neglect), angst — with comfort.
tags: angst to comfort, fluff, romance.
taglist: @thsureya120 @shamonemjshamone
Part 1 here
———————
The day Michael met you was like any other night back in the mid-late 80s. It was warm, beautiful, and electrifying.
The jazz music played slowly in the background as he walked through the crowd of people — greeting and flashing people that million dollar smile he had.
Long before the tours, the tabloids, and the name Jackson belonging to you too…
You had simply just been another young woman who was invited to an industry party, you worked as a stylist for some celebrities.
You browsed the bookshelves and picked out a book, curious as you started to read whilst the people around you conversed about magazines and literature.
Suddenly, you felt someone bump into you, making your book fall.
“Sorry!” A soft-spoken voice gasped out.
You knelt down and picked up when a bedazzled gloved hand reached out too.
He immediately pulled back, and you looked up at him.
“…Michael Jackson?” You said, a bit surprised to have bumped into him.
Michael stared at your face, ingraining it into his memories.
His cheeks flushed up adorably when you smiled at him staring.
Out of all the days he could forget his sunglasses…
“You…know me?” He asked, shy — picking up the book you dropped.
You laughed a little at that. “Who doesn’t know you?”
“A-Ah…right.” He also laughed out, a bit embarrassed. His gaze moved around everywhere but to your eyes. He then gulped and looked back at you.
“What’s your name?” Michael’s voice almost cracked and he almost prayed that the ground would’ve swallowed him.
“(Name) (Last).” You said with an easy smile.
He stared at you, he slowly smiled, biting his lower lip. “Beautiful.”
“Huh?”
“I—I mean your name! Your name is very beautiful…”
You had an amused look on your face that made him feel so flustered that he hoped that he just didn’t look like a tomato.
One of your friends then called out to you, holding up drinks. You smiled back at Michael, waving your hand.
“Well, it was nice to meet you.” You said as you walked forward, you then gently patted his arm. He could’ve melted right there.
“See you around, Mr. Jackson.” You casually said with the most beautiful smile he’s ever seen.
His eyes trailed your figure and memorized the back of your head as you walked away to your friends, disappearing in the crowd.
He smiled to himself, still holding the book you were reading—grasping it to his thumping chest.
———————
The next party you went to—
Coincidentally…or perhaps very much on purpose—he bumped into you again.
Well, “accidentally” is what Michael would tell anyone who asked in the years after, trying to look cool.
But truly, he had spent nearly twenty minutes asking around if you had been invited.
“Is she here now?”
“Mike, you done asked me for the 5th time…she’s coming!” Quincy sighed out, shaking his head with a huff and a smile.
“Sorry…” Michael said sheepishly.
…
“Do you know what time?”
“Michael, I’m going to smack you silly I swear to baby Jesus and the grown one too—“
Another ten fixing his curls in the mirror.
Five convincing himself not to leave before you arrived.
And when he finally spotted you across the room…
He walked in your direction—then very dramatically pretended to be looking somewhere else before lightly colliding into your shoulder.
“Oh! Sorry…Michael?” You said, looking up immediately from where you were looking.
He blinked, keeping a straight face, acting cool. “Fancy seeing you here, Ms. (Last).”
You stared at him, mildly amused and trying not to laugh as you didn’t buy his facade. He sweated a little, his cheeks growing red but he kept his composure.
“Yes…very fancy.”
“Absolutely.”
A long silence then came.
A painfully awkward one.
Neither of you moved, and Michael was about to throw himself into a ditch before he remembered something.
“Oh!” Somehow he startled you and himself.
“I almost forgot…” He reached into the leather satchel hanging from his shoulder.
“…I, um…”
He pulled out a hardcover book.
The very same one you’d dropped the night you met.
You immediately recognized it.
“The Evolution of Women’s Fashion Through the Decades.”
Your eyebrows lifted in surprise and confusion. “You really kept that?”
Michael then looked horrified.
“I didn’t steal it—I mean I picked it up! I asked if I could take it and they said sure, and you seemed to be enjoying this book so I—I just wanted to bring it back to…you.”
He rambled out, his cheeks burning from how embarrassed he was.
You then laughed, Michael visibly relaxed at that.
“Okay…” You hummed out.
He rubbed the back of his neck again.
“…Actually…would you…” He swallowed.
“…Would you sign it?”
You blinked, a bit confused. “…Sign it?”
He nodded a little too quickly. “Yeah…for me.”
You couldn’t stop the amused smile on your lips. “And why’s that?”
Michael froze. That was a good question. A very good question. Because he’d carried that book around for weeks.
Because it still smelled faintly like your perfume.
Because every time he looked at it…
He remembered your smile.
He couldn’t exactly say that.
So…
“I…”
He held up the book rather confidently.
“…I am very passionate about this.”
No, you weren’t Michael. You just stared at the book, replaying the time you bumped into her over and over again.
“Yes.” He said firmly. “Absolutely.”
He nodded with all the seriousness in the world.
You looked at him, then back at the book. Your heart nearly melted.
He was so adorable—trying to look cool and bad for you. And failing very much.
“Oh?” You asked, barely suppressing your smile. “You’ve become quite the fashion enthusiast then?”
Michael cleared his throat.
“…Mm-hm. I study…”
He glanced at the back cover very obviously reading the summary at the back.
“…Hemlines.”
You bit the inside of your cheek.
“Hemlines?”
“Yes, they’re very important…” He said with a nod.
“I studied textures…and…” He squinted as he read one of the highlighted words in the back. “Buttons.”
“Buttons?” You said with an exaggerated gasp.
“Yes, buttons.” He muttered.
“How advanced.” You said, your shoulders shaking.
You couldn’t hold back your laugh anymore—this man was so damn cute.
Michael smiled without even realizing he was smiling too.
You grabbed the book from him and opened the cover. “What’s your favorite chapter?”
He immediately looked around and scratched behind his ear. “Umm…obviously the…” He darted his gaze across the room. “Accessories…?”
You giggled, his heart quickened.
“I thought you’d say the silhouettes.”
“That too, of course. Such an important chapter…”
You shook your head fondly before uncapping the pen he had tucked inside the book. Carefully, you wrote on the first page.
When you handed it back—he looked down.
“To Michael.
Since you know so much about women’s fashion…
Let’s talk about it.
Maybe over coffee?
- (Name).”
He stared.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
His eyes grew impossibly wider.
Did—Did you ask him out on a date?
He looked up so quickly he almost gave himself whiplash. “…Coffee?” He breathed out.
You smiled. “If you’re free.” You said with a small shrug.
He tried very hard to remain composed.
Very.
Very hard.
“…I am.”
Inside—he was screaming. Jumping. Running laps around the room.
He’d spent weeks trying to gather enough courage to ask you out.
And somehow…
You’d done it first—seeming seeing through him so easily, and understanding that he was terrified to ask you out.
How could someone be so understanding?
———————
October 15th, 1997.
The front door quietly clicked open, Michael stepped inside with a tired sigh—fully expecting you to be waiting by the stairs impatiently, hoping on your feet.
So imagine his surprise when he heard silence. “Honey?”
No hurried footsteps.
No warm arms wrapping around his waist.
No sleepy smile waiting just beyond the hallway.
Only the quiet ticking of the grandfather clock. He frowned.
“Baby?” He called out.
You were sitting by the living room window. A blanket over your lap.
Looking outside as rain clouds gathered in the distance. You looked over.
“…Hi.” A polite smile on your face—small, gentle…and distant.
Michael immediately felt something tighten in his chest. He crossed the room and kissed your forehead, his hands shaking as he grasped your face.
“I’m home.”
“…Welcome home.”
That was all you said. No embrace, no laughter, no teasing, or fussing over him if he ate or anything. Just…courtesy. Like you two were just two kind strangers—maybe acquaintances.
He sat beside you. “Everything okay…?”
“Mhm.”
“You sure?”
“…You seem quiet…” He said, biting his lower lip nervously.
“I am.” You said simply.
He searched your face. “…Did something happen?”
You finally looked at him, staring at him for a long time. “…Many things happened.”
“Like what, baby?”
“Does it matter? It’s passed.” You said whilst looking away back to the window.
His eyebrows furrowed. “Well…I’m here now, you can tell me.”
“…I wanted to tell you then. But…oh, I forgot all about it now.” You said with a tight smile.
“What?” He didn’t understand what you meant. Everytime you explained how you felt to him over the phone, he’d just say he needed to go because of a meeting, a rehearsal. Avoiding something.
And you knew that he was just avoiding feeling uncomfortable. He always answered with solutions and excuses when he called back.
“I was working.”
“Things are different, the schedules…”
But none of those reached the place where your hurt lived.
You didn’t need solutions, or explanations. You just wanted him to be there for you, to understand you.
———————
The arguments became more frequent.
Not loud at first. Just…tired.
The kind born from two people who loved each other deeply, but have forgotten how to reach into one another.
Until one evening, it all exploded.
“I wasn’t asking for your whole damn day to talk!” You cried. “I was asking for just 5 minutes at least—is that so fucking hard to ask?!”
Michael shouted back. “I gave everything I could give you, (Name)! I don’t get it! Why are you so mad about some missed phonecalls?!”
“It’s not just that, Michael—dammit!” You cried out in frustration, your hands gripping on your clothes.
“What? Is it the tour extension?? I was trying to protect us, our future, (Name)!”
“Our future? No, no, your future! Your own damn reputation to the public!” You shouted out as he scoffed.
“What future Michael?!” You sobbed out, wiping your face.
“The one we keep postponing like a meeting?! Our family? Our children? Our marriage—“
“I couldn’t just stop, (Name)! I have responsibilities!”
“I never asked you to stop! I just—for once, I just wanted you to think about me too!” You cried out, your whole body shaking.
His breathing became uneven. His hands running through his curls. “You know how my life is, (Name). I thought you understood!”
“I don’t!” You cried out. “I don’t understand why everytime I tried to talk to you—you had to go away! I don’t understand why I had to learn from your fans that you were in places I didn’t even know anymore! I don’t understand anything at all…”
Michael stared at you, breathing heavily.
“I’m tired, Michael…” You breathed out with your whole chest, your fist hitting the pain inside.
“I’m so tired…so so tired…of fighting.”
“Fighting what? The media? The people outside our house attacking us?”
“Of fighting to just have you back! My husband back!” You screamed out, holding your face in your hands as hot tears fell down your face.
Silence. Heavy and painful.
You went to the front door, storming off.
He called out to you, his voice shaking. “(Name)!”
“I’m going for a walk…” You said shakily.
“It’s going to rain, dammit (Name)…” He seethed out, grabbing your arm.
You stood up and pushed him away. “I don’t care! I’m done. I’m gonna listen to myself for once and you are gonna leave me alone.” You said, slamming the door behind you.
Michael stood frozen, tears running down his face.
And almost immediately after you left—thunder cracked across the dark sky. Heavy rain poured without warning. His heart dropped. He immediately bolted out of the door—grabbing his coat by the rack.
“(NAME)!”
The streets blurred beneath sheets of heavy rain. He searched every corner, every sidewalk in the large compound. He even went outside into the empty neighborhood, hair wet and his shoes soaked. Calling your name until his throat hurt.
Finally—across the empty street. He saw you standing beneath the rain, hugging yourself as you quivered. You had no coat, no bonnet, no shoes—or anything.
You looked as freightened as he felt.
For a second—neither of you moved.
Then Michael ran, and you did too.
The moment your arms wrapped around each other, everything broke.
The anger, the sadness, and the loneliness that plagued you both.
He buried his face into your shoulder, the lightning flashing across the sky.
“I’m sorry…” His voice cracked. “I’m so so sorry…(Name).”
You clung to him tighter, “I missed you…so much.” You finally told him, sobbing.
He wiped your tears, despite the rain pouring over your face. “I’m sorry (Name)…”
“Michael…” You said, sniffling. “I’m not asking you for perfection like I’m a business partner…” You cried out.
Your face then buried into his chest.
“I just want you…”
He breathed out, tears rolling down his cheeks as he held you tight.
“I just need you…” You said, muffled into his chest.
He pressed his forehead to the top of your head.
“Then, you’ll have me. All of me.”
He then pulled away for a moment, stripping off his coat and shoes.
You blinked at him, confused as sniffles racked through your body.
Michael then knelt down, putting on his loafers on your scraped feet. And draping over his coat on your shoulders, putting up the hood over your already drenched head.
“What—What are you doing?!” You yelled out as the rain poured harder.
Michael then carried you, walking back quickly to the compound as the rain poured. He laughed shakily, his eyes red. “Making it up to you!”
“You idiot! You’re gonna get sick! I’m already soaked too!” You fussed as you tried to free yourself from his strong hold. “At least put your damn shoes on!”
“Doesn’t matter! I’m willing to go through anything and give you everything I got, (Name)!” He laughed out, as the rain poured harder.
You stared up at him, shocked at his statement.
You both then arrived at the front door, he opened the door with force, setting you down with a huff.
You both stayed silent for a moment, water dripping down from your bodies onto the hardwood floor.
You then slammed yourself into his arms, your knees growing weak from the loss of adrenaline. “You freaking idiot…”
“I know, sorry…”
“No…don’t be.”
He smiled at that, hugging you tightly.
———————
Fixing your relationship didn’t come easy. There wasn’t one conversation that fixed everything. It happened quietly.
One morning—he canceled a meeting to eat breakfast with you. It was very awkward and quiet, you two didn’t know how to move in each other’s spaces anymore, but he still stayed with you as you both long finished eating, just staring at the beautiful day outside the window.
Another afternoon—He walked with you down the path in Neverland, brushing shoulders with you awkwardly. And then, gathering the courage—he reached out to your hand, grasping it in his large one and squeezed yours.
He felt how cold your hands were, and traced his index finger on your wedding ring. You didn’t say anything, nor did he.
But you two blushed as you walked through the path, just holding hands.
Some days weren’t nearly as easy.
A week later—Michael sat beside you on the couch while you watched television.
He wasn’t really watching. He kept glancing toward the telephone resting on the hallway table, biting his lower lip.
It hadn’t rung all afternoon. Finally—
It did.
He sighed.
“I’ll be right back.”
“It’s okay.” You smiled. “I understand.”
…
The words froze him. His heart sank.
He turned around. You hadn’t meant them cruelly. You hadn’t even realized you’d said them—you just instinctively said it. But the sentence carried months of waiting inside it, and it broke Michael’s heart.
He slowly hung the phone back onto its receiver without answering.
“…Michael?” You said, confused.
“It can wait.” He said tightly.
“It might be important.”
“You are too.”
Your eyes immediately filled.
He walked back over, sat beside you, and say another word as you cried.
Just reached for your hand and held it.
The phone rang three more times.
Neither of you moved.
———————
Sometimes, old habits appeared before either of you could notice or warn yourselves. One afternoon—Michael disappeared into his office.
You figured he’d be there for twenty minutes. Then an hour. Then three.
The familiar knot returned to your stomach, making you a bit sick. You stared at the closed office door.
Don’t.
Don’t think like before.
He’s home.
He’s just busy.
He’s home.
He’s—
The door finally opened, and you let out a big, shaky breath that you didn’t know you were holding.
“Baby?” He murmured out as you looked up from where you were sitting in the couch.
“…Yeah?”
“I lost track of time.”
You nodded.
“It’s alright—“
“No.” He crossed the room.
“It isn’t.” He crouched beside where you sat. “I did it again.”
“…Michael…” You said softly.
“I said I’d be present.”
His voice became quieter. “…I don’t want you wondering where your husband went while he’s in the same house.”
Your eyes softened, almost tearing up.
“I wasn’t angry…” You said, assuring him.
“Well, I was scared.” He whispered. “That I’d hurt you again.”
You touched his cheek.
“I’ll tell you when you do.”
“…Promise?”
“I promise.”
———————
Another evening— The two of you finally held that planned dinner together.
Halfway through cooking—Michael’s assistant called. Just one question.
Then another.
Then another.
And without realizing it—
Michael slipped into work mode. Talking about schedules. Post-tour discussions. A new release.
Your smile slowly disappeared. You quietly finished dinner yourself.
By the time he hung up…
The food was already on the table. Cold.
He looked at you. “Honey?”
You continued eating, staring into nothing.
“…You okay?” He asked.
“You looked busy.” You said simply.
His heart sank. He immediately understood.
“…I did it again.”
You finally looked up.
“I’m not upset that you answered.” You whispered, wiping your mouth with a napkin. “I’m upset that when you answer…”
“…I just disappear.”
Silence. He looked at the untouched plate he’d meant to cook beside you.
“…You’re right.”
No excuses.
No explanations.
Just—you’re right.
It was somehow the most healing thing he’d ever said, because he understood you.
———————
There were nights when guilt kept Michael awake. He’d wake up, breathing staggered and sweat glistening on his face. He’d stare at the ceiling.
Listening to your breathing.
Thinking about every phone call he’d ended too quickly.
Every promise he broke.
Every conversation interrupted.
Especially the time he left you all alone during New Years. It ate him alive.
One night—he quietly slipped out of bed. You woke moments later to find his side empty. Instant panic spread through you before you could stop it.
“…Michael?” You called out. No answer.
You hurried downstairs.
Finding him sitting alone in the living room. Head in his hands.
You exhaled shakily.
“There you are.”
He looked up. “I’m sorry.” He whispered.
“…For what, Mike?”
“I keep remembering.” He laughed bitterly.
“You’d ask me for five minutes…and I’d think that was too much…when it wasn’t even anything.”
You sat beside him. “…Michael.”
“I can’t stop thinking about it.”
“You don’t have to think about it anymore…”
“I do.”
He looked at you with red eyes, finally lifting his head from his hands. “…Because I don’t ever want to become that man again.”
You leaned against his shoulder.
“You aren’t. Not anymore.” He quietly rested his head against yours.
———————
One rainy evening—you found him at the extensive library you both had. Holding that old fashion book.
“The Evolution of Women’s Fashion Through the Decades.”
He didn’t notice you watching. His thumb carefully brushed over your beautiful handwriting inside the cover.
“Maybe over coffee?”
He smiled to himself. “…Best day of my life.” He whispered.
“You never told me that.”
He nearly jumped. “Oh!”
You laughed at his reaction. “Were you just talking to my handwriting?”
He bit his lip sheepishly. “Maybe.”
You walked over. “You know…I almost didn’t ask you.” You said, a bit embarrassed.
He blinked. “…Really?”
“I thought you’d say no.” You said with a nod.
Michael stared. “You…thought I’d say no?”
You nodded.
“You were Michael Jackson.”
“And?” He raised an eyebrow.
“I figured women probably asked you out every day.” You said with a shrug, crossing your arms.
He looked utterly baffled. “I practiced asking you.” He confessed. “…For three weeks.”
Your jaw dropped. “Three weeks?”
“I had speeches and that type of stuff…” Michael said, embarrassed.
“You had speeches?” You said with a smile growing on your face.
“They were very good speeches.” He said jokingly.
“Can I hear one?” You suddenly asked.
He immediately covered his face. “No.”
“Please?”
“No.”
“Hey, you promised me you’ll do anything and give me everything.”
“I—“ He tried to argue, but then sighed, giving in.
———————
The 80s…
Michael would never admit how much time he spent practicing. Not just in front of mirrors. Everywhere.
In elevators.
Backstage.
Inside limousines.
In the studio with Q.
Even while brushing his teeth.
He’d clear his throat dramatically. Stand a little straighter, then begin as he looked at himself in the vanity mirror—all alone in the dressing room.
“…Hello, (Name).”
He frowned.
“…No. Too formal…”
He sighed.
“Hi, (Name)!”
“…No. Too plain.”
He rubbed his face. “Oh my gosh…” Groaning to himself. He tried again.
“…Good evening, (Name).”
He immediately pointed at his reflection, shaking his head. “Who says good evening?” He buried his face in his hands.
“You’re asking her to coffee, not hosting the Oscars, Michael, jeez…” He took another deep breath.
One more time.
“…Hey.” He smiled at himself. Better. Much better.
“…I was wondering…if…” He winced.
“…No. Too uncertain.”
He started pacing the hotel room, asking himself questions.
“What if she says no?”
“What if she laughs?”
“What if she already has somebody?”
“What if she doesn’t even remember me?”
He stopped walking, seemingly having a eureka moment.
“…She remembered your name.” He whispered to himself, pumping his fist up slightly, gaining back his confidence.
He laughed nervously.
“Okay.” He breathed out. “…Okay. You can do this.”
He stood in front of the mirror again, pretending your reflection was standing opposite him.
He smiled. Warm. Boyish. A little shy.
“…Hey, (Name). I…” He rubbed the back of his neck. “…I’ve been hoping I’d run into you again.” His eyes softened.
“I know this might sound a little silly…but after we met, I kept thinking about our conversation.”
“…And…” He laughed quietly.
“…You seem like someone who makes ordinary days feel…” He searched for the right word. “…Gentler.”
He smiled to himself. “I’d really like to know you.” He said, bouncing on his feet.
“…Not because people say you’re interesting. Not because of what you do for work. Not because everyone else knows you.”
“…Just…”
“…Because you’re you.”
He swallowed nervously, like you were really in front of him.
“If…if you’d like…maybe we could go somewhere sometime to…do…something.” He winced at how awkward he was but pushed through.
“No cameras.”
“No crowds.”
“Just…you and me.”
He scratched his cheek.
“…I’ll even let you pick the place.
He nodded proudly, smiling.
“…That’s good.”
A moment of silence lulled over him. He rubbed his nose, huffing. “…Maybe don’t say ‘I’ll even let you.’”
He sighed. “…Sounds way too controlling, Michael.”
He tried again.
“…You can choose wherever you’d like unless…”
He laughed.
“…Unless it’s somewhere that has horrible service or environment.”
He smiled wider.
“…Actually, I don’t really care. I just…want an excuse to see you again.”
Silence.
He imagined you smiling.
Imagined you laughing softly the way you had when he forgot his sunglasses.
Imagined you saying yes.
Imagined your eyes looking at him directly.
His own face immediately turned bright red.
“Oh…”
He covered his face with both hands.
“…That was too much.”
He groaned dramatically.
“She needs to close her eyes before I say anything…I’ll faint.”
At that exact moment—someone knocked on his dressing room door.
“Michael? Five minutes.”
He was startled so badly he nearly fell over, he fanned himself to cool down his flushed face.
“Coming!”
He grabbed his jacket.
Then glanced at himself one last time in the mirror.
“…Just don’t faint.”
He muttered.
“…Please don’t faint.” He said closing his eyes.
———————
Presently, Michael opened his eyes as he saw you staring at him with wide eyes.
His face was so flushed, he looked away—turning his body away from you as you laughed.
“…”
“That was so sweet, Michael! Aw, you’re so cute…” You cooed out as you hugged him from behind, cooing at him.
He embarrassingly rolled his eyes and tried to stop your cooing.
“Stop it—“ “I can’t when my husband was—and still is so adorable!” “(Name)…”
You then laughed so hard that tears gathered in your eyes.
God…you looked so beautiful.
He missed hearing that sound. His most favorite sound.
———————
December 31st, 1997.
Neverland was quiet. Just music drifting softly from the living room record player.
Outside, big festive structures and fairy lights glowed around the gardens, reflecting against the frost that had settled over the grass.
You stood on the balcony with a mug of hot chocolate warming your hands, wrapped in one of Michael’s oversized sweaters.
You watched the stars in silence.
Footsteps approached behind you, then familiar arms slipped carefully around your waist.
“…You’re gonna catch a cold.” Michael murmured against the top of your head.
You smiled. “So are you.”
“I have a blanket.” He said proudly. You looked behind you, gasping. “You stole my blanket!”
“…Borrowed.” He corrected you.
You laughed softly. Michael stared at you with a smile.
“There it is again.” He whispered.
“What?”
“Your laugh.” He rested his chin on your shoulder. “I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of hearing it.”
For a while…neither of you spoke. The silence felt warm now. Comfortable. An unspoken understanding between you two. Like home.
After a moment, you looked out toward the distant lights twinkling beyond Neverland. “…Do you remember last New Year’s?”
Michael’s embrace tightened ever so slightly. How could he forget? You had sat alone in this very house. Watching fireworks through the window. Holding the telephone in your hand as your other one clutched the newspaper.
Waiting for nothing, since he extended his tour.
When midnight came…instead of kisses and laughter, you cried and sobbed to yourself.
Michael had learned that months later. He had cried harder over that story than you had. “…I remember.” He said quietly. “I wish I didn’t.”
You turned in his arms until you were facing him.
“You don’t have to keep punishing yourself.” You said softly to him, rubbing his hand.
“I’m not trying to.” His voice cracked. “I just…I hate knowing you spent that night alone.”
You reached up, smoothing a loose curl away from his forehead. “And you’re here now.” You said warmly.
He leaned into your touch without thinking. “…I’m here now.”
A distant crowd somewhere beyond the gates began counting down slowly, probably the fans outside who decided they wanted to hang out by the gates for this new years
“Ten…”
You smiled. Michael smiled back.
“Nine…”
He gently took your mug from your hands and set it on the balcony railing.
“Eight…”
His fingers found yours, intertwining them. Just like they used to.
“Seven…”
You looked up at him. Really looked. The same shy, bambi-like brown eyes. The same soft smile.
The same man who had once carried around a women’s fashion book for weeks because it reminded him of you.
The same man who had nervously claimed to be “very passionate” about hemlines.
You giggled at the memory.
“What?” He asked, smiling at you.
“I was just thinking…you were a terrible liar.”
“Six…”
His ears immediately turned pink. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You absolutely do. I really thought you knew all about women’s fashion.”
“…I knew enough.”
“Oh?”
“…Buttons.”
You laughed so hard you had to lean against him.
“Five…”
He cupped your face gently. His thumbs brushed away tears you hadn’t even realized had formed.
Not tears of sadness.
Not anymore.
Just…gratitude.
“Four…”
“I love you.”
He whispered.
Not hurriedly.
Not because he was about to leave for another flight. Not because someone was waiting outside the door. Just because he wanted you to hear it.
“Three!”
“I love you too.”
You answered. Without fear that the line would go dead. Without wondering when you’d hear his voice again.
“Two!”
He rested his forehead against yours.
“I’ll spend every New Year’s I have left with you.”
You smiled.
“I know.”
“One!”
The first firework bloomed across the night sky. Golden lights popped across the night. Lighting the world around you.
“Happy New Year!”
The sky erupted into color. And this time…neither of you watched it.
Michael closed the tiny distance between you, kissing you with all the tenderness of a man who finally understood that no standing ovation, no sold-out stadium, no award, no headline could ever compare to this moment.
You smiled into the kiss, holding his face back.
Five years of marriage.
One missed New Year’s.
Countless tears. Countless second chances.
All melting away beneath the fireworks.
When he finally pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours, laughing quietly through damp eyes.
“…I think we’re a year late.” He sniffled out.
You smiled, brushing your thumb over his cheek, wiping his tears.
“No.” You whispered. “We’re right on time.”
He kissed your forehead this time, then your nose. Then laughed when you scrunched it up.
“Oh, don’t start Michael.”
“I have an entire year to make up for. Which means…we should totally start having kids.”
“Michael!”
“Today would be so good to make kids, no? Very festive…”
“Hush you! You’re being mischievous again…” You said, letting him hold you and pull you closer nonetheless, not pushing him away at all.
He grinned—that bright, boyish grin that had first made your heart stumble all those years ago between bookshelves and jazz music.
Michael leaned in once more, pressing his lips to yours. Pure love, passion, and happiness pouring into your souls.
And now where the fireworks blew up in the sky, as he held you—his world in his arms.
.
.
.
Note: I don’t like this one that much 😅 But, oh well 😆 I’m so so thankful for all your support guys, you don’t know what this means to me, my angelkins ❤️ I love you all very much. Much love to you! ❤️😊
Before anyone asks about a couple of these choices: I don’t consider any single memoir to be the definitive account of Michael’s life. I’m collecting as many perspectives as possible and cross-referencing everything with verifiable sources. Even accounts from people with whom he later had complicated relationships can contain useful information when they’re treated critically rather than uncritically.
i love androgynous michael with a passion, like he’s so cuntyyyy that’s literally my laddddyyy and mannnn at the same time. am i wrong to say i love when michael leans into his feminine side. like yes bitch pop that pussy right infront of me and serve.
summary. it is now 1996, mike is starting his history tour — a retaliation against the slander of the press and media towards him. but in the process, he pushes away many people in his life — prioritizing other things.
content warning: toxic behavior in relationships (avoidance & neglect), angst, wishing to have children.
———————
You walked next to Michael in the early morning hours of the airport, his security surrounding you two as you escorted him to the plane.
You’ve done this millions of times already in the 5 years you’ve been married — sending him off with a warm, slow kiss and a hug that is filled with love.
This one is no different.
Michael wrapped his arms around you, burying his face into your neck as you chuckled softly.
You squeezed him, pulling away slightly to kiss his soft lips. He kissed you back with such gentleness and warmth like always.
He rubbed your ears, warming them up since it was too cold that morning.
You chuckled. “Go on now, Mikey, I’ll be okay.”
“Wear your bonnet over your ears, honey…” He fussed — evading your goodbyes as always.
Your eyes curved, a smile on your face that he’s always admired. “What?” He sheepishly said as he adjusted your bonnet to cover your ears.
“You need to go now, applehead. I’ll wear my coat and bonnet, yes I’ll drink water a lot, I’ll eat my meals on time and not immediately lay down after — even though it’s comfortable.” You assured him as he laughed.
“It’s not good for you baby, you always get constipated when you do that.” He said whilst tapping your forehead gently. You rolled your eyes, secretly loving it when he fusses about you, worries about you, and cares about you.
He always noticed the little things that made you happy, sad, or hurt.
“I’ll be okay, promise. Just come back soon, Michael.”
He sighed, hugging you once more, he pressed a kiss to your forehead.
“I love you.” He whispered — even after all the farewells and hugs you both gave, he still never wanted to go leave you.
“I love you too.” You murmured back.
He reluctantly pulled away after a couple of seconds.
His security divided, one half staying with you and the other half staying with him.
Michael got on the escalator, waving his arms to you widely with the brightest smile on his adorable face.
“I’ll be back before you know it!” He yelled out, walking away fully.
You watched his figure through the empty airport windows getting into a private plane with his crew.
You never really minded saying goodbye to Michael, because you always knew he’d come back home to you.
———————
The first couple days of his tour has been going well from what you heard during your late night phone-calls with him.
The different timezones were difficult to deal with, often than not — he called you when you were about to fall asleep and you called him when he was in rehearsals.
But it wasn’t that bad at all.
He always asked how you were doing, fussing over you like always.
You laughed at his antics, same as ever, and loving as ever.
This one night after his show in South Korea, he dialed your number in the telephone.
You were half-asleep whilst a book was about to topple over your lap when you answered.
“Mike? Michael? Hi honey…”
“Hey, baby…sorry I didn’t get to call yesterday I was in a meeting after the show…” He murmured into the phone.
You smiled softly, you were waiting for him to call yesterday but you expected him to be busy anyway.
“It’s alright, Mikey. I understand. You’re taking on a lot right now…are you okay?”
He smiled. He knew you’d understand. You were always patient like that.
“Yeah, I’m okay…I’m taking a break right now.” He said softly.
“How was your day-“
“Hold on, baby.” He said into the phone as you heard knocking in the background on his side.
“…Sorry baby, I got to go. Business calls. I’ll talk to you soon.”
“Of course, Mikey. I love you.”
“Love you too.”
He promptly hung up the phone, and you put the phone back on the stand.
You sighed to yourself, well, that was to be expected from someone as busy as Michael. Although, you couldn’t help but just wish to at least be able to have talked to him for at least 5 minutes.
You then shook your head, slapping your cheeks to wipe off your negative thoughts.
You needed to stay positive as you always did like when he was doing his Dangerous tour.
Although it was much easier since he often had time to go back to you and take a break…
But nonetheless, you can do it.
———————
The next few weeks were okay. The late night-early morning calls were often interrupted by Michael needing to go to rehearsals, meetings, or deal with something else. Of course, all you could say is: “I understand.”
And that brought comfort to Michael. But really, you couldn’t understand how — somehow everything is just keeping the little time you have to talk with your husband away.
The calls seem to be getting shorter by the day, once you were even barely able to say a greeting to him before getting interrupted.
And right now, you dialed his number once more. The third time you’ve tried calling.
“Pick up…” You muttered to yourself, biting on your thumb.
You just wanted to hear his voice today. You were missing him very much.
And he picked up.
“…”
“Michael? Hey baby…how are you?”
“(Name)? Oh, I thought you were one of the business guys…” He murmured, sounding relieved for some reason.
“Is something wrong?”
“No, no…just stressed as always baby. You know the drill.” He chuckled out.
You smiled at his chuckle, laying your head on his pillow as you put the phone near to your ear.
“I miss you, Mike.” You whispered to him.
He hummed. “I miss you too, honey. But I promise, I’ll be back soon.”
“Yeah, we got that dinner planned when you get back right?” You said with a little laugh evident in your voice, you glanced at the calendar on your nightstand — the date marked with a red marker.
“Yes baby, it’s gonna be great-“ He suddenly hushed down as some voices were talking to him in the back.
He just hummed. “I gotta go now baby.”
You sat up, hugging his pillow.
“Wait, I haven’t even had 3 minutes with you yet —“
“I’m sorry honey, I got to go. Talk to you later.”
“I love you —“
He then hung up before he could respond back. You put the pillow up to your nose, inhaling his cologne.
It’s okay. He’s just really swamped with everything, he’s at the peak of his tour right now so of course he is. You wouldn’t want to hinder his passion for this tour.
You understand.
You look at the empty space in the bed next to you and smile absentmindedly.
He’s in Europe today…or Asia?
The flight schedule is muddled in your head right now, but wherever he is, he must be okay.
———————
Michael let out a long exhale, dropping his sunglasses on the nightstand next to his hotel bed. The days were muddling together.
Hotel.
Airport.
Soundcheck.
Meeting.
Rehearsal.
Concert.
Repeat.
He was constantly juggling things as well as trying to deal with the media’s bashing on him, trying to keep his fans’ love and loyalty.
He had locked himself in his hotel room for most of the time after his concerts, he just wanted some quiet. No extravagant after-party or anything. Just silence.
Michael loved to keep a journal to write down his thoughts for the day, a way to regulate himself and to check off things he wanted to achieve that day.
And on the upper corner of each one of those pages, he scribbled “Call (Name)”
Yet every night and day, something would come up and he couldn’t check that one thing out.
Someone needed him.
A producer.
A promoter.
A doctor checking his throat.
Wardrobe.
Security.
Business.
Especially those business men. They just loved to take up all his time.
By the time he was finally alone…
He’d glance at the hotel clock.
Three in the morning.
Ten in the morning for you.
“She’s probably busy…”
He’d tell himself he’d call later. You’d understand, right?
———————
One thursday afternoon, you decided you needed to get out and have a nice time to yourself.
Which is really just French of you saying you needed a distraction from not getting a single call or word from Michael.
You put on a face mask and sunglasses, as well as a scarf and a hat for good measure to your disguise.
One of the security men saw you sneak out of the house and immediately they started following you.
You tried to shoo them away like they were a group of cats but they just kept following you, making you sigh as they surrounded you — making it obvious who you were.
Michael’s wife, (Name) Jackson.
Once you arrived to the mall, the paparazzi and fans were already there, crowding the entrance — taking photos of you as you and your security pushed through the crowd.
You then entered a clothing store, buying clothes for yourself and Michael.
Then you felt a hand tug on your skirt gently, you looked down to see a kid about 5 years old. Big brown eyes and (color) hair…that baby kinda looked like you and Michael.
Your heart swelled as he held out his arms go you, seemingly thinking that you were his mother.
Funny enough, the kid that you and Michael could’ve had would’ve been his age.
You and Michael weren’t able to have kids yet, because Michael was simply too busy to.
You and Michael were going to have children after his Dangerous tour, but when the media started making a hate train on him and actively attacking him — he had to protect his reputation, his legacy. So he immediately got to work on his HiStory album and tour to set things straight.
You supported him of course, that was his passion. You understood.
The mother of the child then came over and took her child, apologizing to you before becoming starstruck when she realized who you were.
“You’re…You’re…”
You couldn’t help but chuckle.
“That’s the lady from the TV, mommy…” The little boy pointed towards you as his mom hushed him, telling him that pointing is bad.
You chuckled.
“It’s alright, you have such a delightful little boy. He’s as cute as a button.”
The mom smiled instantly, a motherly kind of pride.
“Thank you, he’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me as a single mom…would you like to hold him?”
You blinked, surprised as the lady held up her son to you.
She saw your eyes tear up as you held her son in your arms. The boy immediately hugged you and you cradled the back of his head.
You were always just waiting for the right time to have children with Michael. He wanted to have kids too — they’d probably look like this boy right here.
“You look beautiful.” The mom said softly as you shed a tear, it rolled down your cheek before the boy wiped it away, melting your heart.
“Thank…Thank you.”
“If I may ask…why haven’t you and Michael have kids yet?” She asked before smacking herself on the mouth.
“I-I’m sorry, I’m so insensitive.”
“No, no, it’s alright…well, he’s on tour right now. And it would be hard on him going back and forth…we’re just looking for the right time.”
“Oh, I see…but you know, you’d make a good mother. My little boy’s almost asleep in your arms even though with me, he’s so hyper.” She laughed out, squeezing her son’s chubby arm gently.
You rocked the boy in your arms, cherishing this moment.
“Children just make the whole world go round, don’t they? I’m really honored to have been able to hold your son…may I buy some toys and things for you and him?” You asked softly as the mom’s jaw almost dropped.
She didn’t even get to answer before you started putting things in a cart, she held her son in her arms as the boy let out amazed noises — expensive toys, clothes, appliances — even furniture.
You probably spent thousands of dollars in mere seconds, you just nodded when the cashier told you the price, not hesitating to pay all of it in cash.
You and the duo then left the store, your security helping carrying the newly shopped things for them.
“Would you like to buy groceries too?”
The mom hastily shook her head, still in shock and a bit embarrassed that you just paid for everything.
“N-No, it’s alright!” She squeaked out as her son played with a new toy airplane in his hands.
“I wanna be a pilot!” He said suddenly to no one in particular.
You smiled and patted his head.
“Work hard then okay? Help your mommy always, be there for her.”
The boy nodded and hugged his mom. “My mommy’s the best mommy!”
You chuckled softly, your heart melting as his mother hugged him back.
Soon, you’ll be able to experience this with Michael.
———————
You stepped out of the mall with your security, where some of the fans were at the parking lot. Some paparazzi were clever enough to expect you to exit through the parking lot.
“Ms. Jackson! What are your thoughts about the tour so far?”
“Why aren’t you with Michael?”
“Can we get a comment on your marriage being a stunt?”
You kept your head lowered, you were so tired of these vultures.
The fans then started blocking these paparazzi and pushing them away, you chuckled as those journalists grumbled as they walked away.
You then waved your hands to the fans, walking up to them.
“Thank you, everyone…”
“Don’t sweat it, (Name)!” They said like they were your friends, after today — they definitely were.
You chuckled as they started having a conversation with you, and for once in a long time, you felt normal. You felt like you.
“— Aw but, Michael’s show in Auckland last night was crazy, though. It was amazing!” One of them said as all of them nodded in agreement.
Auckland? Wasn’t he just in Bangkok? You felt a pit in your stomach.
You didn’t even know where he was anymore since he barely updated you.
But they did. His fans did.
You smiled politely.
“Oh…yes. It looked fun.”
The fans smiled and helped you to your car.
Once you got into the car, you pressed your head against the tinted window — praying that Michael could call tonight.
———————
Three more days passed.
No phone call.
You kept trying but…
Nothing.
You stopped sitting beside the telephone.
Instead, you carried it with you.
Cord stretched halfway through the hallway while you dusted furniture.
Across the kitchen while you cooked.
Into the bedroom while you folded laundry.
Ridiculous.
But you didn’t even want to miss a single second of hearing that phone ring. Your heart ached. You felt so lonely.
———————
The phone finally rang after a week.
You nearly dropped the mug in your hands when you were dozing off.
“Hello?” You said, elated.
“…Baby?”
Your face lit up instantly.
“Michael!”
His laugh came through the receiver.
“I woke you?”
“No.” You lied.
“I’m sorry I haven’t called.” He whispered softly to you.
“It’s alright.” You said with a tight lipped smile.
“I’ve been swamped.” He reasoned.
“I know.” You said with a curt nod.
“I’ve missed you.”
“I miss you too.”
There was a pause.
A comfortable one.
The first one you’d shared in weeks.
“…How’s home?”
You smiled at that, was he worrying about you?
“Lonely.” You said with a dramatic sigh.
He laughed softly. “I’ll fix that.”
“When?”
Another pause.
Longer.
“I…”
Papers shuffled on his end. Someone whispering and people conversating in the background.
Then another voice.
“…Jackson…they’re…downstairs sir.”
Michael covered the receiver.
“One minute.”
You listened to the muffled noises of him talking about the tour, business and all kinds of things that you didn’t know about anymore.
When he uncovered the phone, his tone had already changed. The one he used for those meetings of his.
“I’m sorry, baby.”
You looked down at your mug.
“…Again?”
“…”
“I really have to—”
“You always have to go.”
The words escaped from your lips before you could stop them.
“…Honey.”
“No, it’s okay.” You said softly, instinctively. “I understand.”
He exhaled in relief.
“I knew you would.” He said with a smile evident in his voice.
You felt hot tears burn in your eyes, your body racketing with quiet sobs — holding away the phone from your face.
You were getting really tired of fighting for your time with your husband. You shouldn’t even have to. Just for 5 minutes, you were constantly cradling the telephone, worrying. Just for 5 minutes with him.
“…Michael?”
“Yeah?”
“I was thinking…” You hesitatedly started.
“…Maybe after the tour…”
“Hm?”
“…We could finally start talking about children again.”
Silence. Not because the line cut out, but becausehe didn’t answer. You waited, of course.
“…Michael?”
Another voice interrupted him.
“Five minutes.” He said politely.
He sighed, heavy through the reciever. He wanted that too but…
“…Baby.”
Your heart sank before he even spoke, you feel like you already knew the answer.
“I don’t think now’s the right time.”
“You said after Dangerous.” You murmured.
“I know.”
“You said after the album.” You choked up.
“I know.”
“You said after—” He interrupted you with a tense tone.
“I know.”
His voice became sharper than he’d intended. He then let out a breath, exhaling to calm down.
“I know what I said.”
Neither of you spoke. He rubbed his forehead. “…Things changed, yknow.”
“They always change.”
He didn’t answer.
“I’ll wait.” You whispered it so quietly you almost hoped he wouldn’t hear.
He swallowed thickly, rubbing his temples. He heard that. “…We’ll talk when I get home.”
“You always say that too.”
Another silence. Long enough that you checked whether the line had disconnected.
It hadn’t.
He simply wasn’t speaking.
Finally—
“I have to go.”
Of course.
“You understand, right baby?” Michael asked softly, like he was there next to you. You wish he was.
You didn’t answer this time. He furrowed his brows.
“…I love you, Michael.”
“…Love you.”
He hung up after that, the dial tone filling the room afterwards.
———————
Another week passed by with no call. You only really got updates from his security, who were urging him to take a rest.
Michael didn’t listen to anyone, not even you. He was too busy fighting the entire world and industry to care about anything else.
You opened the bedside drawer of your shared bedroom, chuckling bitterly as you saw the cream-colored knitted socks fit for a baby.
Katherine and your mother had gifted this for you on your wedding day. “For when the time comes.” “Mhm.” They said with smiles on their faces.
“Not yet, guys — c’mon.” You laughed shyly then as they chuckled.
“With how in love you two are, it’ll probably be next month, hm?”
Your mom teased out as Katherine laughed. You blushed in embarrassment but you couldn’t help and smile back then.
You couldn’t wait to spend the rest of your life with Michael. Every second with him, making a family with him.
But in those 5 years, 5 anniversaries, and countless promises he made to you that he would settle down after his projects…
These socks never left the drawer.
———————
The next few weeks were expectedly quiet, not many phone calls from Michael, just him apologizing and you murmuring that you understood before he hung up.
It was almost New Years Eve at this point, the fireworks painted the night sky, you watched them as they colored in the darkness.
5 years ago, Michael would always kiss you at midnight. You always treasured that movie-like moment as the fireworks blew in the background of a chill night.
You can only reminisce right now. Was it even New Years for him? He’s in Japan. Wait, no. The Philippines.
That was weeks ago, you grabbed a tabloid paper that was delivered to you that morning.
Ah, Brunei.
You laughed bitterly. You would’ve known if he had told you.
But you understand right?
You checked the calendar and see the date marked on when he was coming back.
The 7th.
You smiled at that at least. You then kept looking at the tabloids delivered to you. You slowly frowned as you read another title.
“TOUR EXTENDED TO MAY DUE TO OVERWHELMING DEMAND: FANS GOING CRAZY FOR JACKSON”
You just put your head in your hands. Sobbing quietly as the fireworks blew off in the background.
You couldn’t count how many times that you’ve cried for the past 5 months. One of the first things Michael ever promised to you was that he would never make you cry.
But just like a bunch of other promises he made, he broke it.
.
.
.
note: Not too sure about this one guys 😅 I kinda suck at making angst 😂 But anyway, I finally got WiFi at my hospital so I’ll post again soon 👁️👁️ Much love to you all! ❤️❤️❤️
A/n: Ugh I wish I could go back in time and comfort him
Contains: Angst, fluff, black!reader, established relationship, crybaby! Michael
Summary: Your boyfriend is sensitive and you’re his safe place
Now playing: Put your head on my shoulders- Paul Anka
Michael was a crybaby.
His pale red eyes that were glazed over, puffy cheeks with tear marks, and the small sniffles he tried so desperately to conceal. As much as you hated to see him upset, you loved to comfort him.
You let him rest his head on your chest, cradling him in your arms, planting soft kisses on his forehead. You’d caress his hair with your fingers, gently untangling the strands as his shoulders shuddered.
The reason for crying could be a variety of things. Insecurities, surprise parties, insults, overstimulation, the list goes on. If Michael feels any intense emotion in his heart, it shows physically by forming into a liquid and rolling out of his eyes.
When you first started dating, he’d try and cover it up. Excuses mixed with running to the bathroom or his bedroom. You even started to notice him turning away from you just to slide on black shades.
One day, you caught him. Small sobs falling from his lips, shoulders shaking as he was balled onto the floor. “Mikey?” Your eyebrows furrowed pushing his bedroom door open farther.
He jolted, using the back of his hands to wipe the tears from his face. “Mikey, what’s wrong?” You squatted near him, not minding the carpet digging into your knees.
“N-nothing, mama, I’m okay.” He blubbered trying to keep the small amount of restraint he had left. You wrapped your arms around his lean body, holding him up against your own.
Feeling the warmth around him, his emotions erupted and he broke down into your shirt. You never found out what was wrong that day, he never told you and you never asked. But he learned that you were his safe place.
On the verge of tears, he’ll find you and bury his face into your shirt or the crook of your neck in no time. The small droplets from his eyes poured like a waterfall and you pouted, getting a bit emotional yourself.
The warm smell of cocoa butter oozed from your skin, mixed with gentle perfume oils. You would tip your head forward to see his face or rest your head against his, your braids falling around him like a shield. A curtain of you that blocked out the world. He felt buried in your presence and that soothed him.
Ever since then, your sweet boyfriend who deserved the world, wasted no time to cry in your arms.
23 HEADCANONS + mini scenarios (18+, so minors DNI!)
۶ৎ ⋆ ݁. — Hiii my babiessss, In honor of my 300 followers celebration, I was going to do 30 but I've been busy these couple days and the lack of attraction hasn't been motivating me as much. So, you guys get 23 headcanons (better than nothing, right…?) 🥲.
۶ৎ ⋆ ݁. — I picture otw era & pre-thriller
۶ৎ ⋆ ݁. — ❝Hey Alexa, Play “Freak” by Doja Cat❞
۶ৎ ⋆ ݁. — ❝Hey Alexa, Play “Streets” by Doja Cat❞
۶ৎ ⋆ ݁. — PROOFREAD !
pervy bsf!michael — If he notices that there are no more seats open, like at a party—even though he sees a spare chair in the distance, he still offers for you to sit on his lap. And he won't let you sit on his lap, he'll make you sit in the smack dap middle of his lap. You'll basically be sitting on his dick.
"where's all the seats at?" you asked Michael as you were holding a red cup and looking around.
As he was looking around with you, he spotted a chair and then immediately grabbed your wrist, "Uhh, I dunno, you can sit on my lap though," he said with a smile on his face. You squinted at him before you gave in.
You sat on his lap, then turned around to him just to look at him. He could tell you were a bit tipsy because he could smell the alcohol on your breath, but that was the least of his worries.
His eye immediately locked onto your boobs, almost spilling out of your tube dress, then back at your lips, then your eyes. You stayed looking at him, not fully registering what he was doing, then turned back to your crowd of friends who were playing a game.
Your hair almost whipped him in the face, as your braids were in high ponytails. His hands started to creep around your waist, and he squeezed it for a second, then let go.
"oh m geeee—just fuck already, damn!" your girl bestfriend said as she saw both of you all close together on the couch. Michael laughed in your neck, and you looked up at her with a tipsy smirk.
pervy bsf!michael — He'll purposely go inside the gas station by himself while you wait in the car and get blue and red slushies so you and he can kiss to make your tongue purple.
"Ok, listen," Michael said as he hopped in the passenger's seat and closed the door. You already were suspicious, so you paid him your undivided attention to hear what he had to say. "You have to be open-minded, k?"
You instantly rolled your eyes and looked out the window with your hand on your forehead. "Michael-" you got cut off. "Here, just take this," he nudged on your shoulder to give your slushie—and there it was. Cherry flavored.
Michael immediately did his nervous face, as always, slightly tucking his lips and looking at you with his doe eyes. "I got—b-blue raspberry," he nervously chuckled afterwards. You were genuinely trying not to laugh because you didn't wanna entertain his foolishness—but, you couldn't lie, you didn't have a problem kissing him.
Your mouth was still slightly open in shock as you stared at him, of course he was still sitting there staring at you. He then started putting the blue raspberry slush on his tongue, just a bit of it.
He shifted in the seat, one leg resting one leg on it. He motioned with three fingers for you to come here. You then rolled your eyes again and immediately folded. You began to take the top off the slushie and pour a bit into your mouth, holding your head back a bit so it wouldn't spill out.
You held your hair back when you were now face-to-face with him. You wanted to laugh because of how stupid this looked, but clearly, he was hungry. He grabbed your face and brought your lips to his, swapping the slushies in each other's mouths. He was also the main one making noise, which you loved. He was moaning very quietly, but most of it was muffled by the slush.
He started to get more into it by now gripping both sides of your face, and added his tongue. All the slush was nearly swallowed when he started taking control—you pulled back from the kiss because of your laughing, but also because of a slight choke.
"Michael—! What the hell!" you said as you were also choking while laughing. Dark purple slush was dripping down your chin as it glowed when the gas station sign hit it through the windshield.
"I can lick it off-" he said as he came in to lick it—as much as you wanted him to, you really needed a napkin to remove all the stickiness. "No, I need a napkin, please." he reached into the glove compartment and handed you two napkins.
"I could've done the same job as that napkin," Michael said as he licked his lips, checking himself in the car visor mirror.
"boy, please," you laughed.
pervy bsf!michael — You first came to him to talk about an argument you had with someone, he thought it was so sexy and cute because of how riled up and vulgar you can be when you're trying to get your point across. Sometimes he'll even stare at you, pacing around the house until you're done with your rambling.
pervy bsf!michael — Whenever you leave him alone in your room while you're out at a store, grabbing a few things, he'll be wandering the room and snooping around in your belongings. He'll even spray his hoodie with your perfume so when he goes back home, he has something to remind himself of you.
pervy bsf!michael — You once caught him having a wet dream of you while he was sleeping on your couch when he slept over.
pervy bsf!michael —At a Halloween party you and him dressed up as vampires! How cute. But of course it was his idea because he would love the idea of seeing you with some eyeliner and red eye contacts
You chose the tightest dress ever to wear for this party, specifically to show off your curves and, of course, to get a reaction out of your date—Michael.
He didn’t see your outfit until you came out of the bathroom holding your chest. “Hey, Mikey baby, does this look good on me?” You asked him, and looked in the mirror that was sitting by your bed.
He damn near looked like he was star-struck. Your body looked lovely in the dress. On top of that, your vampire makeup was bomb as fuck.
“ouuu, hold on—do a little spin f’me,” he said as he leaned back on your bed. Of course, he wanted to see your front and back any time he got. “Beautiful, stunning,” he complimented you as he got up and hugged you from behind.
“Oh, by the way, can you help me loosen this up in the back? It’s a bit tight.” You looked up at him in the mirror as you asked and moved your hair over your shoulders.
He chuckled before he grabbed for the zipper. “I know what else is tight,” your eyes slowly panned up to his figure being hidden behind yours as you saw his shoulders bounce from laughing. “Oh my- Michael,” you whined and rolled your eyes. “Whaaatt? You look good. I can’t help myself around you,” he cooed.
“But uh- I believe your…things are too big or you got the wrong size—I can’t really move it up,” he said in a slight joyous tone, because he knew he would get to see you look good in another dress.
“Oh, boo-” you said, annoyed, and walked to your closet as you were still holding your titties in your dress.
“Waaaiitt come back!” His hand was still on the zipper as you started moving to your closet.
pervy bsf!michael — you and him got high together for the first time, and once he got drowsy around you, he started blabbering about all his dirty thoughts about you and him if y’all were together—he has no shame.
When he came back over your house after not being there for a long time, he slept the night. He was deep in your neck, dozing off as usual, and sometimes would shift to just lie his head in your lap (purposely would lie there just to be by your pussy).
The TV was playing as you were deep into the show you were watching, wearing the custom-made blue light glasses he gifted you.
He would always tease you for them because you looked like “his nerdy girl,” which you thought was cute, but the glasses didn’t really make you look nerdy.
As the TV was playing, you could hear him mumble some things against your neck. You turned the TV down a bit to hear what he said, but the mumbling stopped.
You struggled it off, then went back to watching your show as you started rubbing your fingers through his hair, then down to his nape, repeating it over and over again.
Then there it was, his words he had been dying to get off his chest.
“Mmm, keep rubbing my scalp just like that,” you leaned back to see if it was actually awake or if he was half-sleep, but nooo there he was, eyes just shut with a smile on his face. You could tell he loved being touched by you; every second of it he adored.
“Y’like that, mikey?” You cooed. He went silent for a minute until he spoke again. “You touch me so—so, so well,” he whined, then gave you a kiss on your neck. You gasped at the kiss as it sent shivers running through you.
“You would sound so, so pretty moaning my name like that,” he sat up from your lap and looked at you, his eyes were all low and predatory. Like he wanted to take a bite out of you for looking so good.
“Y’would look even prettier if this top came off, too,” he said as he tugged at the hem of your V-neck crop top.
You let out a breathy laugh and motioned for him to come here and kissed him. Kissing him while high was always the best kiss ever, especially the deep, intimate moments.
pervy bsf!michael — The first time he saw your fine ass in a moomoo, he was gobsmacked for hours. And of course you wouldn’t wear anything underneath—Miss girl gots to breathe! But since you and he were close like that, you didn’t mind wearing anything underneath clothes, especially about how touchy he is.
pervy bsf!michael — Whenever you get your feet painted, he pleads to kiss the ground you walk on, it’s like he has a thing for freshly manicured feet (only yours ofc).
pervy bsf!michael — one day he insisted on paying for your nails just so he could see how pretty your nails and hands wrap about him, and asks to see the designs while you’re full of him in his mouth.
Spit and pre-cum were spilling out of your mouth as you took his fat tip into your mouth. His legs were bouncing up and down from anticipation because of your teasing.
You lapped up his nectar with your tongue, keeping eye contact with him as his mouth was agape at the sight. He always found you a bit shy but funny “friend”, but right now, you were also the filthiest and most seductive friend.
“Y’like when I wrap my pretty little fingers around your dick huh?” You asked him as you slapped his tip against your tongue a few times.
His breath hitched, and a moan got caught in his throat as he was about to answer. His eyes were locked on your nails, and how pretty they wrap about his length.
The way your hand was covered by his liquids turned him on even more, showing how much of a mess he makes just for his baby girl.
pervy bsf!michael — sprayed one of your bras with your perfume and took it home with him later that night and stroked himself to the thought of you, by your signature aroma being in the air.
“nnnghh,” he moaned quietly with his eyes shut, imagining you between his legs, sucking and stroking him dry.
He bit down on his finger as he tried to muffle his moans, but he just couldn’t get enough because you had left for vacation the night before, so you being away made it even more difficult.
“Oh-Ooh my..” he stuttered since he was close to his climax just at the thought of you.
pervy bsf!michael — you and him tried cosplay as a police officer and prisoner in bed..just for funsies.
You both were a bit tipsy from a party earlier (another Halloween party), and Michael was kissing all over your neck and your collarbone to muffle his moans.
The way you were riding him while your breasts were nearly spilling out of your skin-tight jacket, made out of leather. “Michael—look at me,” you said as you were still riding him all slow, grinding up and down.
He pulled back from your neck, staring at the hickeys he just gave you, and then looked up at you. His breath hitched as his eyes locked on yours, then back at your tits.
You began to ride him a bit faster than before to make him look at you. “fuck, mm, you’re so pretty like this,” he whimpered out, then bit his bottom lip.
He threw his head back while squeezing his eyes shut against your headboard, the bed was creaking a bit just by your hard thrust.
You came up to his neck, kissing all over him while putting your hands underneath his shirt. Your nails dragged against his chest, making his breath hitch. “You’ve been a bad boy, hm?” You pouted.
Michael was a whimpering mess and moaned even louder once you started slightly degrading him. You degrading and teasing him was what he wanted, what he needed, what he praised.
“Yes..yes, I’ve been a very—ngghh,” he could barely form sentences from how good you were riding him and how good your eye contact was. He would talk all that nasty shit but couldn’t handle being deep in your pussy—especially when you would take control.
“Very, bad boy.” He finished. You giggled a bit at him being completely lost in your cunt and not being able to form a sentence while being balls deep.
“Yeah?” you moaned out as you were close to your climax. “Yess,m’bout to—m-m’bout to cum..” he looked at you with his glossy puppy eyes. “Can I please- aah!” Michael cried out to you, tears forming from how good you make him feel.
“Y’think you deserve it?” you asked him as you started toying with his hair and his hands that were cuffed behind him on your bed, then started riding him at rapid speed, watching his facial expressions change as he was getting closer.
“Yess, angel, please—! Ooh fuck, you’re having all my babies.” He said, still in a whiny voice, but still a bit raspy from his previous grunting.
pervy bsf!michael — Michael came with you to a party just to watch you because he knew you were gonna need a ride back since you wanted to drink. Later on, you started getting more and more tipsy. You kept on touching all up on Michael and grinding against him, and he loved every single second of it.
You had already kissed Michael on his lips; he was appalled by your kissing him because you had never done that before.
Michael was manspreading on a couch next to people who were also drunk out of their minds and rolling up. Then, here you came with your red cup, slowly dancing towards him as you kept eye contact.
He was already there to watch over you to make sure nothing bad happened, but this right here was the main good thing that was happening to him.
You came up to him, then turned your ass around and sat right on his throbbing bulge. He already couldn’t keep his composure because of how good you looked in that dress.
“fuck.” He whispered under his breath. You turned back around to see his face, focused on your ass slightly grinding on him. “Huh?” You asked him as you came close to his face.
“N-nothing..” he said as he put his hands behind his head to restrict himself.
pervy bsf!michael (cheating)— whenever you and your boyfriend were over his house for a party of some sort, and they would be alone in the kitchen while everyone was having a good time at the pool—he would always never miss out on kissing you and the thrill of getting caught always eggs him on even more.
pervy bsf!michael — his first time having sex was with you, even though both of you were inexperienced, he would always want to practice on you, or just think to himself how much he’ll ruin you once he gets the hang of it.
pervy bsf!michael — when you first kissed him with lip gloss on his forearm, he was thinking about getting it tattooed to have his best friend’s mark on him. You were basically marking your territory. You weren’t going anywhere.
pervy bsf!michael — every time he sees you chilling around his house, around his brothers, he doesn't care—he would find the plush of your ass very comforting and would rest his head on it, ignoring the stares that he gets from his brothers.
pervy bsf!michael — You wore low-rise shorts that kept riding up your thighs every time you sat down and stood up, and I'm telling you..Michael couldn't maintain himself. He had to go to the bathroom to work off his aching boner.
One billion for your biopic, exactly one day before you would have started your final tour in 2009, it's bittersweet in some way, but we couldn't be more happy to see you succeed once again. You keep setting records, and we are so proud. Just so you know, we miss you everyday ❤️🩹.
. ݁˖ SUMMARY .ᐟ You're an established supermodel and amateur actress in a secret relationship with Michael. His company doesn't want your relationship to go public, but when you see him take Brooke Shields to the Grammy's as his date, you decide to give Michael a taste of his own medicine.
. ݁˖ AUTHOR'S NOTE .ᐟ Brief mentions of strict eating habits, and slight sexually suggestive themes. I'm tired, so the punctuation is probably ass, but at least it's not AI! Also "Just Like Me" by Summer Walker inspired the title!:)
The Separation .ᐟ
Studio 54 was a getaway for you and Michael. The thumping bass and electric energy broke any barriers that may exist between people in the outside world, everyone was just here for a good time.
When Michael first brought you, it took you some time to loosen up, being in a new environment, but after a few shots, you were both dancing and giggling to the music together, sure it would look like you were dancing to different beats, but you were dancing together nonetheless.
When a couple drag queens come up to you both, asking to dance with Michael, you figure it’s the perfect opportunity to step away and grab a bottle of water.
"We not good enough for you, honey?" Cupcake, a drag queen, famous at the club, questions sassily.
"Cupcake, stop playin with me. You know Mike can dance all night, I need a break," You tease one another, before kissing each other's cheeks and stepping away.
You pass by Bill, Michael’s chauffeur, and pick up your purse, before reaching the bar.
"Can I just get a water?" You ask, when the bartender makes her way to you.
Quickly she reaches underneath the counter and pulls out a cold water bottle.
"Thank you, add it to Mike's tab." You add before taking a seat and grabbing a napkin from the counter.
Taking a breath, you reach into your bag and pull out a compact mirror to look at yourself while dabbing your face with the napkin.
"Hey beautiful," You hear as you feel an arm wrap around your shoulders from the side, in a friendly manner, looking up from your seat you see Denzel Washington. A new friend of yours who you met one late night while looking for Michael at the club.
"Denzel! How are you?" You smile, a bit enthusiastic due to the alcohol in your system.
"Good, I was wondering if I'd see you here tonight. I saw you and Mike dancing." He says, chuckling kindly.
You start laughing, as he pulls a chair close to you. "He's been wanting to come! I love coming too but lord, I can't keep up with him. When Cupcake came up to us I figured it was my chance to take a break." You smile, as he leans in slightly to hear you over the music.
"O'cmon, I've seen you, you seem like you could go all night. I saw ya’ll both doing the robot in a dance circle last time I was here."
"Nooo, you didn't see that," You smile covering your face, embarrassed, before continuing, "I definitely had too many drinks that night, and it wasn’t as good as you make it seem." You laugh, the drinks in your system making you friendlier than normal.
From the distance, Michael sees you and Denzel leaning into one another's frames, talking and laughing. Michael isn't an idiot, he can tell Denzel has a crush on you, and seeing you so closely together, his mood immediately changes. Slowly he steps away from his friends and Latoya quickly glances at him before noticing where he’s looking.
She quickly walks up to him, "They're just talkin Mike."
"Yeah, whatever." He quickly begins making his way through the crowd to you.
While Michael and Latoya make their way towards you both, Denzel attempts to make a move on you.
"Hey, I mean you made it look good." He smiles, "You look beautiful tonight by the way."
You try to remain polite, forcing a smile as you begin glancing around for Michael. Not able to see him, you glance back at Denzel, "Thank you." You respond simply.
Conflicted by your reaction, Denzel decides to be forward, allowing you to accept or reject his advances.
"Look, award season is around the corner, and I'm nominated for a few different categories. My label is trying to get me to bring a date, and you were the first person I could think of asking.— Would you like to go with me to the the Oscars?"
With perfect timing, Michael shows up in your line of sight and quickly places his hand on your shoulder, in a friendly but possessive manner. He glances up at Denzel as if taken off guard by hiss presence, despite intentionally approaching you both.
"Hey Denzel, what's up, man?" Michael greets him, as Denzel stands and they dap each other up.
"Hey Mike, man. How are you?" Denzel responds, attempting to hide his frustration.
"'m good. Hope you don't mind, I need to steal my homegirl." He responds, as your teeth clench in restraint as you bite back a quick retort.
The unfortunate part about being with Michael was that despite so many people seeing you together, you had to deny any romantic relationship with one another. Of course, some people figured there was something romantic between the two of you, since you were stuck to each other's hips.
But the lack of physical affection, was also able to convince many that you were indeed ‘best friends’ like the two of you claimed. Michael made it clear that his label didn't want him to be in a public relationship, therefore when you went out together there were boundaries, including no pda.
While initially this frustrated you, you understood that you and Michael had gotten together just as his solo career was beginning to take off. So, you agreed to their terms out of fear of being perceived as using him. Sure, you were a top runway model, but Michael's career was at another level. You didn't want people to think you were trying to benefit from his image.
Despite your attempt at being understanding, you couldn't help the silence you met Michael with on your way to the car. Realizing the tension between you and Michael, Latoya quickly decides to stay at the club with one of their brothers.
As Michael holds the door open for you both and shuts it behind himself you can't help pressing him, "I didn't know I was just your homegirl now."
Michael, huffs in frustration, "You know I didn't mean it like that."
You roll your eyes, attempting to move slightly away from him, before he moves closer to you and attempts to hold your hand before you pull it away. "How'd you mean it then?"
"Baby, you know I can't just go callin you my lady in public. I didn't think about it before saying it.”
You huff a sigh as he grabs your chin and turns you to face him before pulling you in for a chaste kiss. "Forgive me." He says gazing into your eyes, inches away from your face.
You gently remove his hand from your face before leaning back in your seat and glancing out the window. "Whatever,” you reply, as he pulls your hand back in his.
A few moments pass before Michael bites his lip and begins playing with your fingers nervously, "So, what were ya'll talkin about?"
You can't help smiling softly, you knew Michael would adamantly deny being the jealous type, but when it came to men flirting with you, you could tell when he was bothered.
"He asked me out." You admit immediately, not looking at him.
Michael's fidgeting with your hand stops, as you continue looking out the window.
"You were smiling a lot for him to be asking you out, wha'd you say?" He says, resuming his fiddling with your hands, thoughtlessly.
"I didn't say anything, you got there just in time." You reply simply, finally glancing back at him, gauging his reaction.
"Good, I know he was mad." He smiles, biting his lip and you can't help giggling softly.
"You're so dumb."
The thing about your relationship with Michael is that you both hated confrontation, the good thing is that he knew exactly how to lower your guards. He knew you were quick to reciprocate his energy and if he remained calm then you would too. You both loved how easy and peaceful your love felt.
You quickly began leaning onto one another, giggling. As you both look outside the windows together, Michael sees his favorite convenience store, that has his favorite niche brand of orange juice and leans forwards. He quickly slides back the window divider and asks Bill to pull over at the store.
"Do you want something, mama?" He asks, leaning back, glancing at you.
"I can't" You sigh, "I have that show coming up, I need to be careful with what I eat." You lean your head onto his shoulder, pouting.
He kisses the top of your head sympathetically. "You've been doing really good, a small snack won't hurt." He says, as the car stops in the back of the store's parking lot.
"C'mon, let's go look. You don't have to get anything if you don't want, but a bite won't hurt none either."
Before you head inside, you throw on a cap and Michael throws on a hoodie from the back seat of the vehicle, which he always keeps on hand for last minute outings.
The store run was quick, and isn't an odd occurrence for you two. Afterwards, you both head to Hayvenhurst where you stay the night.
The morning after, you and Michael wake up to his landline ringing. He slowly unwraps himself from your hold onto one another and mumbles a raspy greeting.
You glance at the clock, it's 8am. Before glancing back at Michael. He begins sitting up on the edge of the bed, humming.
"Okay." He sighs. The room is silent, besides his shuffling movements.
"I understand." He mumbles, seemingly frustrated, before slightly raising his voice, "Alright man— it won't happen again."
He immediately hangs the phone back on its receiver.
"What happened?" You ask, sitting up against the headboard, while Michael remains on the edge of the bed, facing away from you.
He's quiet for a moment, "There are newspapers going around with photos of us from last night, at the convenience store."
You hum, adjusting yourself on your knees behind Michael, wrapping your arms around his shoulders before placing a peck on his shoulder. "We knew it was gonna get out sooner or later right?"
You rest your head on his back, arms moving to wrap around his stomach from behind. Grogginess, keeping you from considering his responses during the phone call.
He awkwardly coughs, clearing his throat, before remaining quiet, considering his words carefully.
"John said we need to be more careful, he doesn't want us going out together in public for a while." He suggests, mentioning his manager.
You slowly pull away, eyebrows furrowing in shock. You had been in a relationship for over a year, you thought you had earned some semblance of respect and authority in your relationship. Michael's position on the matter seems clear, he must agree with their opinion
"Is that what you want?" You ask softly, staring at his slumped figure, as he continues facing away from you, avoiding eye contact.
The silence is lingering, as he simply doesn't respond, his eyes shutting as he lowers his head to rest on his hands.
You nod to yourself slowly, and begin gathering yourself together before leaving quietly.
Michael didn't want to hurt you, but when the conversation of your relationship arose in meetings, he understood where his team was coming from. As horrible as it may seem, Michael knew you didn't match him in status. Sure, you were a supermodel, and did amazing in that facet of your career, but your acting skills weren't up to par. You were criticized often in the public eye for only being a pretty face.
When his team discussed your image, they said that any negative discussion directed towards you would naturally be placed onto Michael. They figured since the 'Thriller' album was doing so well, they shouldn't entertain any discussion of Michael being in a relationship with a c list actress.
Unfortunately, Michael prioritizes his career over almost everything in his life, in his mind, not telling you that your negative image is what is keeping him from going public with you, is him protecting you. He figures what he doesn’t tell you can’t hurt you.
What Michael doesn’t know is that you’re fully aware of what critics are saying about your acting skills and that you were actively taking acting classes now, to help you improve yourself.
It was initially supposed to be a surprise, you wanted to prove yourself to your boyfriend. You know how hard working and successful Michael is and figured, he would be excited for you when you got accepted in a blockbuster horror film, after taking acting classes. Yet, when you got the call confirming you got the role, you decided to not mention it to him.
Things hadn't been the same after his phone call with John Branca. He seemed distant, and while it wasn't unusual for you to go some time without a proper conversation, you couldn't shake the feeling that this time was different.
You never had a proper conversation about their call or how you both felt, so the tension felt lingering when you did speak to one another. While you typically appreciated how you both avoided confrontation, in moments like this when it built distance between you two, you can't help feeling resentful about how passive you both are.
A few days turned into a week and a half.
You knew that Michael was nominated for multiple grammy's and despite the distance between you two, you tried to contact him beforehand, wanting to bask in the moment with him in any way you could.
When he didn't pick up your phone call, you were hurt, but convinced yourself that he must've been incredibly busy preparing for the award show. Since you couldn't be with him, you decided to surprise him and wait for him at Hayvenhurst.
You were seated on his bed, in his pajamas, when you noticed Brooke Shields was seated beside him. He brought her as his date.
You never heard Michael even mention her. Sure, Michael had plenty of friends in the industry and he didn't need to explain any of them to you, but you both knew what him showing up with her meant. Michael was a very meticulous person, if he brought her as his date it could only mean one thing.
He wanted people to think they were together.
Watching Michael break the record for the most nominations and awards received in a single night feels bittersweet. The man you love is being celebrated for something he worked tirelessly for, but at his side is another woman.
You sit for the entirety of the award show in tears, considering how you want to react when he arrives, but your rational side is thrown out the window when he enters the room. You’re pacing his room, face puffy, when he enters. People are a few steps behind him talking, when he sees you and his smile fades.
The people helping him carry his awards are disregarded as he shakes his head at them and quickly shuts his bedroom door, before setting down the two awards he was holding onto his nightstand. He sits on the edge of his bed and watches you, as you pace, biting your lip, in an attempt to focus on anything besides your blurrying vision.
Finally you stop pacing and grab his award softly, looking at it. "Congratulations," Your voice cracks.
Michael's eyebrows furrow, as he sees you struggling to hold yourself together, but restrains himself from reaching for you, attempting to give you space.
You sigh, as tears stain your cheeks, and you gently place the award back on the nightstand before walking to his dresser. You finally look at him, as you lean back onto it.
"Why’d you take her as your date?" Your voice remains steady, as tears continue falling and you wipe them away.
"John thought it would be a good idea to bring a date. We ended up deciding I would ask Brooke."
You can't help scoffing, "Instead of your girlfriend?"
"They thought it'd be best"
You can't help rolling your eyes and raising your voice, "Michael, can you take some responsibility? You're a grown man! You have a say, stop using your team as a way out."
His eyebrows furrow in confusion at your raised voice, you had never yelled at him before.
He looks at the floor, nodding slowly, "I thought it'd be best."
"Why?" You plead, wanting a genuine answer for once.
"John doesn't think you have the best image." His eyebrows scrunch together, embarrassed.
"What are you talking about? I've never been on the front page of a magazine for my private life until you." You can't help scoffing.
Michael covers his face, slowly sliding them down in exasperation before leaning on his elbows, which rest on his knees. He is slouched over on the edge of the bed.
"It's the acting roles you've been doing, people say they just haven't really been— the best." He says, avoiding eye contact.
"Are you kidding me right now? That's what this is about." You begin connecting the dots. Michael was okay being seen out with women in public, taking photos. Just not you. You didn't fit into his picture perfect life.
"You just don't think I'm good enough for you," You mumble to yourself.
"That's not what I said," He stands, approaching you, attempting to touch your waist, before you pull away.
You take a step away from him before folding your arms underneath your chest, and dropping them quickly. You don't want to look as small as you feel right now. "You know, even though things haven't been the best between us the past few days, I called you." Your voice trembles.
"I figured it's Michael's big day, I need to put our problems aside. I was so sad I couldn't be there with you. Not because I needed to be seen with Michael Jackson, but because I knew you would break records tonight." You can't help glancing at the ground and shaking your head in disbelief.
You slowly continue, despite your voice cracking, "I never doubted you for a second. I just wish you believed in me too."
Michael is facing you directly, wanting more than anything to hold you, as his vision becomes blurry. "I'm sorry, I was wrong, I see that now. You didn't deserve that. It's just hard." He struggles to find the right words.
"It's hard?" You can't help raising your voice, "What part was hard, Michael?" You ask, as he flinches in embarrassment. You point at the television, voice never faltering, "Cause from here, it looked pretty easy.— Was it hard asking her out? Was it hard sitting beside a pretty girl all night? Was it hard accepting every award, while I was at home, in tears?"
You scoff, "Oh I know, maybe it was hard thinking about the possibility of ever needing to be seen with me. You know what, you're right. It must've been so hard lying to me in the meantime."
In tears, Michael shakes his head, "I never lied,— I never lied to you. Everything with you was real, especially my feelings."
"Intentionally withholding the truth, is lying to me. You went with her and didn’t tell me. And your feelings for me mean nothing if they don't come hand and hand with respect."
Michael's eyebrows furrow in frustration, "I never said I don't respect you, you keep puttin words in my mouth.— I did wrong, I know I did. I shouldn't have taken her. I should’ve gone public with you, but don't make it seem like I'm this evil person."
He pleads, continuing, "I never meant to hurt you, that's why I didn't wanna tell you I was goin with her or what they were saying about your acting ."
You roll your eyes, "You aren't getting it. If you can be in a room where people are talking about me and you don’t feel the need to defend me, then you don't respect me."
You shake your head, pointing outside the bedroom door, as your voice trembles." I don't care what anyone else has'ta say about me. I know what the media is sayin about me, trust me. I just thought if anyone would be on my side it was you."
Michael takes a step closer to you, and you allow him too, as he takes hold of your hand, fidgeting with it. "I am on your side. But I understand, baby, I did wrong. I'm sorry, really."
You give yourself a moment of comfort and allow Michael to play with your hands before you gently pull away altogether.
"I don’t forgive you." You simply whisper in return, biting your lip.
You begin turning around and gathering your items that you had slowly left over at Michael’s over the year and a half that you have been together.
He remains hot on your heels, "C'mon, work with me here.” He pleads, “ I said I'm sorry, really I mean it.— I'll tell them that we're gonna go public, I don't care. Just don't do this. Don't walk away from something good."
You stop digging through your designated drawer in his room and look at him. "This isn't something a sorry can fix, Michael. If you want me the way you say you do, prove it."
You quickly throw as many things as you can into a duffle bag and leave his house.
Operation Getting Your Lick Back .ᐟ
The movie crew wanted to do a quick table read weeks before shooting the horror movie to make sure everyone's on screen chemistry was good. It was here you became close with Jane Fonda and Rita Moreno, your costars. Although you weren't supposed to discuss your relationship with Michael to others, you never signed an nda, so when they found you sulking, you opened up.
After an hour, they knew about your acting career, your year and a half long whirlwind romance, his obsession with control over his public image, and Brooke Shields.
"Oh, honey. This reminds me of my past relationship with Marlon Brando." Rita shook her head in remembrance.
"You dated Marlon Brando?" You ask in disbelief, never having heard of their relationship.
She hums, "Those years were some of the best nights of my life," she winks, laughing softly.
"He had the women chasing after him, that's for sure" Jane chimes in.
"He did plenty of the chasing too" Rita adds.
"He cheated?" You say, face scrunched in disgust.
"Of course, he was a dog." She states indifferently, as your eyes widen.
Without a second thought, she continues, "There was a point, I was so tired of his cheating I decided to get even." She states, as you and Jane lean forward in anticipation.
"I had just found a pair of lingerie in his house, and I was so heartbroken. I remember going home in tears,— And anyway the next day I got a call from Colonel Parker, Elvis' assistant and he said Elvis saw me at the commissary at Fox Studios and he wanted to meet me. He asked if I would also like to meet him."
She smirks, continuing, "I remember thinking about the lingerie I had just found and I said why yes I would."
You all began laughing together.
You quickly chime in, excitedly, "Well, what happened next?"
"Well, we went out that night, and it quickly spread into the gossip columns the next morning! Marlon heard about it and he was furiouss, he was throwing chairs and yelling, oh he was so mad." She smiles widely.
She quickly grabs Jane's and your knees, leaning in and whispering slowly, "And it was wonderful." You begin squealing in excitement while they laugh along together.
"Did you get back together then?" You enthusiastically ask.
As you all three lean into one another, your hands interlocked with Rita, who appreciated your enthusiasm.
She smiles sadly, patting your interlocked hands with one of her own. "Of course, at that point I didn't want to end things with Marlon. I just wanted to make him feel the way he had made me feel.— We were obsessed with one another. We wouldn't end things for good until two years later."
You hum in response, as you all begin thinking quietly amongst yourselves.
Jane pipes in, "I guess the question now is whether you just wanna make Michael work for it, or whether you wanna see him sweat? The way Rita did."
"And boy did I make him sweat," Rita giggles softly as they both lean in and you pull your hands from Rita's, twiddling your fingers, considering your next words carefully.
It's silent for a moment, and then you smile nervously before making eye contact with the both of them. "I wanna make him sweat."
They began squealing together, before Rita chimes "I knew, I liked you!"
You smile softly, as she pulls you in for a quick hug. You continue, "I just want him to feel how I did, seeing them at the Grammy's together."
"Well you’ll need a man," Jane chimes.
"But not just any man!" Rita elaborates, "You need a man who is able to make him sweat, part of what made me meeting Elvis so hurtful was that it made Marlon realize I could be with someone more successful than him."
"I don't know anyone more successful than Michael." You think aloud.
"He doesn't need to be more successful, He just needs to be someone who everyone knows and holds in high regards. Someone important,— someone who can make him sweat." Jane corrects.
You think for a moment before you quickly lean forward on the sofa, "I know exactly who! Denzel Washington, he's a good friend of mine, and Michael knows he's asked me out."
The women gasped and began gushing over him, Denzel's career was just beginning to reach new heights. Everyone was talking about him, and that partly was because he was easy on the eyes. Which only helped your situation. He's the perfect man to make Michael sweat.
The plan is quickly under way, and when you call Denzel, asking if the invitation to the Academy Awards is still open, he happily agrees.
-
A few days later the awards show was held, you had been receiving calls from Michael, but made it clear that simple 'sorry's' weren't going to cut it. In the meantime, you were walking the red carpet with Denzel.
The dress you wore hugged your figure perfectly. Your back was completely showing, with only two thin straps holding the front piece in place from behind. The back cut was almost uncomfortably low as it rested directly above your ass.
Photographers are immediately yelling out for you both to look in their direction. The dress would go down in history and your delicate makeup and voluminous hair only added an elegance to the look.
Throughout the entirety of your photos together, Denzel's hand rested directly against your lower back, right where the dress ended, adding another layer of conversation to your look for the night. Your comfortability with one another, along with your appearance, and Denzel's first ever award show wins demanded attention.
'Denzel 'Wins Multiple Awards for First Time, Alongside Supermodel Date!'
Gossip columns went on tangents the next day over your look and comfortability with one another. Photos circulating of you both in the car after the award show, laughing closely with one another. Which led them to believe you were both in a relationship, much to both of your satisfaction.
The gossip just assured you that Michael would hear about your public appearance together.
Operation Getting His Girl Back .ᐟ
"Yo, Mike!" Michael hears Randy yelling from the outside of his bedroom door, as Randy and Marlon continue banging on his bedroom door.
"Mike! Hurry up, open the door." Janet yells, with Latoya by her side, reads another newspaper.
Michael, groggily shuffles out of bed. "I'm comin, damn."
As soon as the door opens, Marlon shoves a newspaper in his face, a small section showing a blurry image of a man and woman in a car, close together.
"Who is it?" Michael questions in a raspy voice.
"It's your girl and Denzel Washington, man." Marlon shakes his head, while everyone looks over his shoulder at the newspaper.
"He's so fine," Latoya mumbles to herself, before her siblings stare at her, dumbfounded.
"My bad," She forces an awkward smile.
"What're you gonna do?" Randy chimes in curiously.
Michael stares at the image, before mumbling "I'm gonna get my girl back."
The past week after your argument, Michael had been calling you daily, unsure of how to approach getting you back. These calls were cut short by you, but the fact you were still answering at all feels like a positive sign. You were open to the possibility of something, he just couldn’t understand how to prove it to you.
The siblings huddled around in Michael's room, as he began pacing slowly, While Janet sat crisscrossed in the middle of the bed, with Latoya laying down next to her, looking up at the ceiling.
Randy was digging through Michael's trinkets, while Marlon sat crisscross on the floor, leaning back on his hands.
"So a phone call is a no?" Marlon asks.
"I've been doin that, she answers but never wants to talk long." Michael says before sitting on the edge of the bed, frustrated.
"Have you tried sending her flowers?" Latoya asks, looking in Michael's direction.
"No." Michael responds.
"Well what have you tried?" Janet asks.
"Calling and showing up at her house." Michael sighs.
"Did she open the door," Marlon asks. As Randy opens a wooden treasure chest full of toys, digging inside.
"No." Michael replies, flopping back on the bed, and rubbing his face.
"What if you try sending a big arrangement of flowers and a letter?" Latoya adds, sitting up.
"Do you think that'll work?" Michael asks.
"I don't think you have much of a choice, you needa try something else fast." Janet criticizes.
"Alright," Michael replies, nodding.
-
In the meantime, you were doing your daily routine of working out, going to your acting class, and meeting up with Rita Moreno for lunch. Who was overjoyed to see you on the front page of her newspaper that morning with Denzel, and demanded you grab lunch to gossip.
By the time you had gotten to your small Hollywood home you immediately noticed multiple giant flower bouquets on your doorstep.
You struggle to enter your doorway and notice that your door is struggling to open because of the amount of flowers surrounding your foyer. You smile softly before following the flower petals leading up to your room. You see bags of your favorite couture brands on your bed surrounding an envelope signed 'Mister winning my lady back, Yours Truly, Michael ᥫ᭡".
Immediately you tear open the envelope.
'Dear Pretty Girl,
The past week has been really weird. The best way I can explain it is that it feels like I'm missing a limb from my body, and no one else except I seem to notice it. I'm trying to go about my daily life like everything's normal, but I feel this part of me missing, and I can't stop thinking about it. I miss you. I really really do. I didn't realize how deeply my actions were hurting you until you left. I know, I'm an idiot.
I'm not quite sure what else to say. I know that my actions haven't been the best, and even now I feel like I've waited too long to do something drastic but I'm trying to be intentional. I'll do whatever it takes. I love you, Pretty Girl.
Yours Truly,
You're Pinhead Boyfriend.'
Quickly glancing through the bags you notice items you have previously circled in magazines, while at Hayvenhurst with Michael. Biting your lip, you decide to give Michael a small break and call him. He answers on the third ring.
"Hello?" He questions.
"Hey," You smile softly, "I appreciate the gifts and the letter."
"Good!" He says enthusiastically, before coughing awkwardly "I mean good, I'm glad."
You giggle softly, before thinking out loud, "How did you get everything inside my house?"
"OH, um I have that key you gave me. I didn't want the men who were moving everything inside to do it while your house was empty and I didn't think you'd want me in there so Latoya and Janet were there to let the guys in." He says, nervously rubbing the back of his neck.
You hum in response, appreciating his thoughtfulness. "Anyways, I just wanted to say thank you, really. But that doesn't mean everything is okay. I'll talk to you later." You mumble quietly.
"Wait," He raises his voice anxiously. "I'm dying here, baby. I don't know what you want me to do. Whatever it is, I'll do it! I just need a hint. Give me something, mama." He pleads.
Considering his perspective, you sigh. "I'll think about it." You're quiet for a moment before continuing. "Anyways, I really need to go. I'll talk to you later Michael, bye."
"Bye, I love you," He replies, as you hang up.
-
When Michael wakes up the next day to a hand written letter signed by you, his excitement is overwhelming. You decided to cut him some slack. He quickly tears open the envelope.
'Hey, Pinhead Boyfriend #1'
He reads, before rolling his eyes smiling, he knew you wanted to make him jealous and he definitely was, but he knew he had to be careful about how he handled your situation with Denzel. If he acted irrationally, he may push you away for good. For now he intended to focus on fulfilling your demands.
'I decided to be nice and write some demands out for you, the sooner you complete them, the sooner I'll hear you out. First, I need you to announce your relationship status. However, I want this done on my terms. I want you to announce it publicly in a television interview. I also want to see you announce it to our closest friends, at Studio 54 through a thoughtful and practiced performance. Secondly, I want to see you be creative and come up with a thoughtful heartfelt gift on your own. Get to it dummy, I’ll be waiting! ❤︎
Sincerely,
The Only Woman Who Better Be Sending You Love Letters!’
-
The interview was recorded and televised the next day, despite Michael’s busy schedule he demanded John fit it into his agenda. The interview was brief as a result but Michael figured that would be okay. The less said in the interview, the more that the public's focus would be on his newly announced relationship status. Which it was.
Despite the completion of his task, his phone call with you was still short. You meant business.
Wanting desperately to be back in your good graces as soon as possible, Michael began cancelling his obligations throughout the week to begin practicing for his serenade performance at Studio 54. He had exactly four days to perfect it.
He even paid his brothers as well as ya’ll’s favorite drag queens, to practice and be a part of the performance. After the drag queens berated him for his decision to keep your relationship a secret, they agreed to help.
He also made sure to set aside time at night to paint his gift, a portrait of you.
The days felt too quick for his liking, and he began to worry about the performance, but he already told you to be at Studio 54 on Saturday night and he couldn't go back on that now.
He can't help his nervousness as he begins setting up the stage with his brothers for their performance. You sit in a private, elevated section with your friends. In the meantime, Cupcake is continuing her crowd work.
Michael quickly takes a seat on the edge of the stage, gazing down at the floor, unmistakably sad. Before Cupcake approaches him, calling his name. A part of the performance.
Michael and Cupcake follow their prewritten script, building up the anticipation for their performance, before Michael and his brothers get on stage and the melody to 'I Want You Back' begins playing and the boys begin dancing the choreography in sync. The crowd cheers as Michael focuses on you entirely.
'When I had you to myself, I didn't want you around. Those pretty faces always made you stand out in a crowd'
You can't help smiling, watching the obviously rehearsed performance begin. Your friends in your section immediately squeal and begin chattering about the performance, which you don't pay attention to as your focus remains on Michael. Who is also completely focused on you.
'Oh, baby, give me one more chance, to show you that I love you.'
Michael emphasizes the lyrics, while simultaneously staying in line with his brothers who are all dancing alongside one another.
As the music progresses, couples around the room are dancing together, friends are singing passionately to one another, and other audience members are dancing with the drag queens in the crowd. The song begins passing midway through, when you see a few drag queens take each of the Jackson sibling's place on stage as the brothers slowly stop performing and move off stage. Michael remains singing, as the drag queens take their places on stage, serving as backup singers and dancers for the crowd.
The brothers quietly walk off stage, Michael, walking up the steps to your section with his brothers following suit, grabbing items from the side of the stage before rushing after him. Marlon brings a bouquet of roses, Jackie brings a bottle of wine and glass cups, Tito holds a large but thin wrapped gift, and Jermaine holds small tubes in his hand that you can't yet identify.
'Oh, baby, I need one more chance. I tell ya that I love you'
Michael smiles as he reaches you, and you begin dancing with one another. You both gaze into one another's eyes lovingly, smiling widely as the song comes to an end.
As the music finishes, Michael hands his mic to Jermaine, and holds both of your hands while playing with them. He's nervous and unintentionally avoids eye contact for a moment, to gather himself together.
You see his adam's apple bob up and down, while he nervously clears his throat, before finally meeting your gaze.
"What do you say, can I have one more chance?" He nervously gauges your response.
You smile softly and nod your head.
Immediately, confetti is flying around you as everyone in the room is now cheering. Michael looks around and, as he meets your gaze once again he's smiling genuinely now. He lets go of his grip on your hands and they instead move to your jaw, before leaning in. Your lips meet for a slow but chaste kiss.
You spend your night celebrating together with your friends, dancing and laughing. And when you both finally get home, you have a serious and much needed heartfelt conversation. Specifically, about his negative reaction to the criticism you were receiving regarding your past acting roles, as well as his decision to bring Brooke to the Grammy’s
He listened intently to everything you had to say and apologized profusely for his obsession with his and your public image, promising to spend as long as he needed make it up to you. He also promised he wouldn't have contact with Brooke Shield's going forward.
Until the conversation of Denzel finally arose.
"I just kinda feel bad about leading him on." You mumble.
"Oh, he'll be fine, don't worry about that." He states indifferently, playing with the hem of his oversized shirt, which you are wearing, as you both cuddled on the bed.
"You sound so sure of yourself. He really liked me, you know," You acknowledge.
He scoffs, irritated at the mention of Denzel, "Trust me I know."
You sit up from your position. Curiosity getting the best of you, as you look at him, "Then what makes you so sure he won't care."
Michael's eyebrows furrow as he cringes momentarily, frustrated with himself for saying anything. He rubs his hands against his face before sighing.
"I may or may not have spent the last few days setting him back up with his last longterm girlfriend." He coughs, before adding, "They're actually on a date now,— in Hawaii."
"Did you pay for them to travel to Hawaii, just to get him out of the picture?" You scoff in astonishment.
He bites his lip, "When you say it like that, it sounds crazy." He mumbles.
"Yeah, I'm the one making it sound crazy" You reply sarcastically.
You can't help furrowing your eyebrows, while looking at him. "I don't know whether I should be concerned or flattered." You think aloud.
He quickly pulls you back down against him, as his hands find themselves on your jaw as he begins smothering you in kisses. "Flattered, definitely flattered." He replies,
You smile softly. "You know, that seems an awful lot like jealousy." You tease.
He pulls away, humming in response, "I don't think so. I was just tying up a few loose ends, helping a friend out, you know?"
You scoff in astonishment, "You might actually be insane."
"I wasn't gonna let him ruin my one chance at getting you back. I just did something nice to get him out of the way in the meantime." He states gauging your reaction, his thumb softly tracing your jawline.
"Are you upset?" He asks softly.
You remain quiet for a moment, considering your answer, "No, if I had seen you in person with Brooke at the Grammy's, I may have done worse."
He huffs a breathy laugh, "Yeah?" He asks, biting his lip before leaning down and leaving open mouthed kisses on your neck. He loved when you got possessive.
'mhmm' You smile, placing your hand on his jawline, softly leaning back on the bed, as you gently pull his face above yours.
"And if you ever do some dumb shit like that again, we're done." You murmur softly, eyebrows furrowed as he notices the hurt in your tone.
He nods softly, " I did wrong by you and I know that, but I swear it won’t happen again."
He leans down and your lips meet in an open mouthed kiss, his tongue softly teasing your bottom lip in the process. While his hands softly trace your jawline and yours slowly begin tugging on the hair on the nape of his neck, as you follow his lead.
Michael sucks on the bottom of your lip slowly before he begins gradually leaning back, as his grip on your throat tightens slightly, guiding your frame on top of his, before he slowly pulls back from the kiss, while you begin kissing along his jaw towards his neck. He settles himself against the headboard, while you straddle him.
His hands make their way up your thighs before groping your ass and eventually tugging at the shirt you have on. Both of your clothes are quickly disregarded as you successfully attempt to find comfort in one another’s embrace for the night. You both seem to wordlessly agree in simply wanting to become intimately reacquainted with one another after your time apart.
He's Never Living It Down .ᐟ
It had been over forty years since your brief separation from Michael, which was the only time where you genuinely almost walked away from him for good. Life has been great. You have five beautiful children together and 12 grandchildren. Things are good.
It was the last Friday night of the month, and therefore your mandatory family night. Your house was filled with children, teenagers, and adults all roaming around, talking amongst themselves in the living room or kitchen.
You were sat on Michael's lap, cuddling on the sofa, with a blanket draped over you, talking quietly amongst yourselves. While completely unaware of three of your grandchildren who were planning on messing with you, laughing quietly amongst themselves.
They quietly sit on the opposite end of the couch, attempting to look casual when your granddaughter, Kayla, raises her voice, immediately catching ya'll's attention, as her brother, Jackson records, attempting to stifle his laughs.
"I'm soo hungry," She wails. "I could eat Denzel Washington."
You scoff a laugh in complete disbelief, as Michael immediately sits up loosening his grip on your waist.
"Denzel Washington?" Michael's eyebrows immediately furrow in annoyance, while he lets go of you.
"Has she been mentioning him," He asks looking at you in disbelief, while the kids start laughing hysterically and you sit completely baffled.
"I haven't thought of that man in years, don't start." You say getting annoyed with him.
"Why are they talkin bout him?" He quickly directs his questions towards the children who are wheezing with laughter, while the rest of the room has gotten quiet and everyone is now watching y'all's reactions, smiling or laughing. "Where'd y'all get that name?" He asks them seriously.
"Papa, we found the photos of Granny with him when they were young and just wanted to mess with ya'll, it's a tiktok trend." Jayla speaks up from her spot, next to her sister, smiling widely.
You can't help chiming in "You chose the wrong name, the one you should've said was Brooke Shields." You say raising your eyebrows at Michael. To which he closes his eyes and his head falls back on the couch in disbelief. How he ended up in trouble, he didn’t know.
Your eldest son chimes in, "Ya'll done got Papa in some trouble." He says as you stand up and walk away, annoyed that he would get angry over hearing Denzel's name when he knows he was the one who rubbed Brooke Shields in your face. He didn't have any right to be annoyed.
Michael quickly follows after you, hoping you weren't genuinely upset with him.
One of your daughters chimes in "He's gonna be sleeping on the couch if he doesn't start kissing up." They laugh amongst themselves before one of their significant others asks about the story behind the celebrities being mentioned.
They slowly settle around the couch while Michael follows you silently in the kitchen.
"Papa cheated on Granny with Brooke Shields." One of your grandchildren chimes in.
"I thought Granny cheated with Denzel," Another asks.
Slowly your children reveal the story to their children and significant others, each one chiming in at different points, having heard the story multiple times before.
By the end of the story, everyone is murmuring amongst themselves. Before your youngest daughter explains to those unaware, that their names were basically forbidden words in your house growing up. They always led to an argument, with Michael ultimately being the one in trouble and having to apologize.
One of your children's significant others finally speaks up, "I hope they figure things out, she seemed really upset."
Your youngest daughter rolls her eyes before revealing "Oh, they'll be fine. They get like this every once in a while. I bet they're already good."
Your next youngest son butts in, "No way! The last time, mama was so mad she made him sleep on the couch."
They begin bickering amongst themselves, as a few of your children and grandchildren decide to peek into the kitchen, to see if you were arguing with Michael. Instead, they see you leaned up against the kitchen island, hands on Michael's face while his hands rest on your waist, and he is smothering you in kisses "'m sorry— love you— 'm a dummy." he mumbles between kisses, while you giggle softly.
♫: when y/n receives a call from quincy for a song collaboration with her ex, michael jackson, the lyrics trigger flashbacks of their past relationship. (pt. 1)
(heh.. part 2? just a short lil one bc i wanted to try out that white border thingy majiggy, hope it isn’t too confusing. <33)
˖ ݁♬⋆.˚𝄞.
your name was everywhere. it started with a breakout single that took over the charts, but within two years, it had evolved into a cultural shift.
you weren't just topping the charts; you were redefining them. every music video you released became a trend, every live performance was praised, and sold out stadiums had practically become your second home.
the media couldn't get enough. the critics, who were usually impossible to please, finally agreed on a title that stuck to you:
ᴛʜᴇ Qᴜᴇᴇɴ ᴏꜰ ᴘᴏᴘ.
it was a heavy title to wear at your age, but you wore it effortlessly, dominating the industry with every move.
but with every queen, there's a king, and the world only recognised one.
michael jackson. you hadn't thought of the name in years. but with his overwhelming fame, it was inevitable you were going to be reminded of him. so imagine your surprise when your producer, quincy jones, called you to ask you to duet with him.
“look, daughter. i need you down at westlake studios right now.” quincy's voice spoke through the receiver, booming with late night energy that always signaled a burst of creativity. “i've got a track that is basically screaming for you. smelly is already in the booth tracking his parts-“
“no.” you cut in instantly, the word slipping past your lips before you could even think to stop it as your fingers tightened around the phone. “no, q. find someone else. i'm not doing it.”
quincy paused on the line, completely caught off guard by your sudden pushback, oblivious to the panic he had just caused. “excuse me? since when is it like you to turn down a masterpiece? you two are the biggest pop stars on my roster. i'm not taking no for an answer. baby, come here now.”
as the line went dead, you let out a heavy sigh, slowly lowering the phone against the kitchen counter. you groaned as an overwhelming rush of memories infiltrated your mind.
you and michael had been each other's entire world during his thriller era. you were more of an underrated icon in the background, still trying to find your footing in the industry, while he was transitioning into a global superstar.
it had been a quiet secret. you two had shared everything together; he was your first kiss, your first love, and the first person you had ever given your body to. you had been his first real taste of it, too.
but it quickly became so much more than just innocent romance. it was intensely physical, a raw pull that you both became completely consumed by. since you were each other's very first time, the realisation of that connection turned into a sexual addiction.
behind those locked doors, the world outside vanished, replaced by an insatiable need for each other's body. you couldn't keep your hands off one another. every stolen hour was spent tangled together, learning the curves of each other's bodies, driving each other crazy in a cycle of desire that neither of you knew how to break.
but then, the world became too loud. the suffocating security, the paparazzi, and the weight of both of your careers had slowly choked the life out of the relationship. with broken hearts, you had mutually agreed to let each other go, prioritising your own careers over love.
you hadn't looked him in the eyes since the day you walked out of his life. and now, he was fully in his bad era, and the thought of facing him made you weak in your knees. but you couldn't say no to quincy, not when your career was tied to his commands.
reluctantly, you grabbed your things and stepped out into the night air. affirming yourself that “it would be just fine” as you slipped into the back of your private car. your personal driver quietly put the vehicle in drive, the city lights blurring outside the window as the car smoothly glided through the streets, heading straight toward the man you never thought you'd talk to again.
.𖥔 ݁ ˖༘⋆𐦍⊹₊ ⋆｡˚
the heavy scent of quincy's cologne, and studio air hit you instantly. the room was bathed in the familiar lighting of westlake, but the energy inside was powerful, vibrating with the presence of the two men sitting inside.
quincy was spun around in his producer's chair, a thick pair of headphones resting around his neck as he boomed with laughter. but your eyes skipped right past him, immediately locking onto the figure sitting on the sofa behind the mixing console.
michael.
he looked entirely different from the boy you had loved. his hair was longer, styled in beautiful curls that framed his face perfectly, and his jawline looked sharper under the lights. he seemed more confident. he was dressed in a black button down shirt, a pair of sunglasses plastered on his face.
as the door clicked shut behind you, michael's laughter faded. he lowered his glasses, his dark eyes snapping over to you, and for a second, the calm composure he was wearing broke.
“there she is!” quincy clapped his hands together, his voice shattering the tense silence that had stretched across the room. “the queen herself. come on in, daughter.”
you forced your fake smile to stay perfectly in place, praying your voice wouldn't betray how nervous you were. “hey, q.” you said smoothly, stepping further into the room and keeping your posture relaxed. you turned your gaze to the couch, your heart racing as you looked right at him. “hey, michael.”
michael cleared his throat, slowly standing up from the sofa. he offered a soft smile that didn't quite reach his eyes, his voice low when he spoke.
“hey.” he smiled, his eyes searching your face, scanning the perfect mask you had put on. “it's... it's really good to see you.”
“likewise.” you lied smoothly, the fake smile never wavering as you crossed your arms, trying to keep yourself from fidgeting under his intense stare.
“alright, alright, enough with the introductions.” quincy cut in, oblivious to the suffocating tension that had settled over the room. he rolled his chair back toward the mixing board, flipping a few switches and clicking a button on the intercom. “we're burning daylight, and i've got a hit to finish. michael just wrapped some parts. i need your voice on it.”
quincy handed you a sheet of lined paper covered in michael's messy handwriting. just looking at the font of his writing made a sharp pang of nostalgia hit you.
“the song is called morning dew.” quincy explained, turning up the monitors.
your heart stopped. you glanced up from the paper, your eyes automatically darting back to michael. he was already watching you, his hands stuffed into his pockets, an unreadable expression on his face. of all the names in the world, you thought, a wave of irony washing over you.
“go ahead and step into the booth with him.” quincy ordered, waving his hand toward the double paned glass. “let's do a quick run through y/n, so you can read the mood..”
michael didn't say a word. he just gave a polite nod and turned to walk toward the isolation booth. you swallowed hard, your throat suddenly feeling dry as you looked down at the lyric sheet in your hands, the words staring back at you in his distinct handwriting.
forcing your legs to move, you followed him inside the booth, the soundproof door confining the two of you alone together.
michael walked up to the dual microphone setup, adjusting his headphones slightly before turning his dark eyes back to you.
“you look beautiful.” he complimented, his voice slightly shy, the bad persona seemed to soften for just a split second, a hint of the boy you used to love peeking through. “i want to say.. congratulations on... everything”
“thanks.” you managed to say, your voice tight as you adjusted your own headphones, intentionally avoiding his eyes. you couldn't look at him, not when he was looking at you like that. “congrats to you, too. the new album is.. good.”
before he could reply, quincy's voice cut through the monitors. “alllright kids, let's roll it from the top of the verse. daughter, give me that first line.”
the track began to play, a burning beat filling your ears as you looked down at the sheet music, tracking the lyrics. you stepped up to the microphone, cleared your throat, and delivered the opening line.
“as we sip champagne watching purple rain...”
the words came out perfectly on pitch, your tone professional, but flat and hollow. you sang it like you were reading a book, the fact that you were in your ex's presence was making you detached from the music.
the track abruptly cut out, the silence in your headphones deafening. quincy leaned forward over the console, pressing the talkback button. his brows were furrowed as he stared at you through the glass. “whoa, whoa, stop. what was that?” he shook his head, looking completely baffled.
“y/n, you're singing like a robot. where is the passion? this song is about love. i need you to feel it, baby. stop overthinking and let it out.”
you swallowed hard, your cheeks burning slightly. you didn't dare look to your left, where michael was standing inches away, silently watching your every move. you tightly gripped the edge of the music stand, nodding at quincy through the glass. “sorry. run it again.”
you took a deep breath, forcing yourself to forget michael was there just enough to let the music in. when the track restarted, you leaned into the mic, letting your natural warm voice take over. you sailed through the first two verses smoothly, your voice blending flawlessly with the sultry beat, making quincy nod in approval behind the mixing board.
but then the chorus hit, and it was time for the overlay. suddenly, michael stepped closer to his microphone, his presence completely engulfing the small booth. the distance between you vanished as the music swelled, and his voice cut into your headphones.
“girl, you’re sexy in the mornin'..” you both sang, his dark eyes locking directly onto yours, burning right through the calm facade you were trying so hard to keep up. “you know you turn me on, babe.”
your heart leapt into your throat, avoiding his eyes as your voices intertwined perfectly, tracking the melody in flawless harmony.
“you know the sun rise for you..” he sang, his tone dipping into something soft and intimate, a genuine ache bleeding into the words.
“for you..” you ad-libbed right after him.
“give me that mornin' dew..” you both sang together, the blend of your vocals completely undeniable. it was a perfect match, a reminder of exactly why quincy had put you two together, and why you had been so attracted to each other years ago.
“you know that i want it.” you both continued, the low register of his voice vibrating in your ears, his eyes darkening as the lyrics grew heavier.
“i want you moanin' every mornin'...” you both sang, his voice dropping into a honest tone that turned you on.
hearing those words leave his lips ignited something inside of you, instantly melting your heart. it hit your composure, a reminder of how easily he could still pull your strings, and your mind completely drifted off to when he in fact, made you moan every morning..
“again?” you teased, a sleepy laugh escaping your lips as the morning sun filtered through the cracks of the curtains. you were tangled in the messy white sheets, your skin still warm from the night before as michael suddenly rolled over and pulled your hips against his. you giggled softly as his hands found your waist, tugging you closer until there was no space left between you.
“c’mere then, ma.” michael whispered against your ear, his voice thick with sleep and desire. he trailed lazy kisses down your neck, his fingers tightening on your skin as he pulled you under him once more, turning your quiet giggles into loud moans before the day had even begun.
the track abruptly looped into a quiet transition, but you were still frozen, your heart racing as your mind raced to catch up with the present.
“y/n? whatcha thinking about over there, daughter?” quincy's amused voice cut through the monitors, snatching you right out of your thoughts.
your cheeks instantly flared a deep red as you cleared your dry throat. “mm.. q, sorry. i was just... just feeling the music.”
next to you, michael let out a soft chuckle that only made you more flustered. when you risked a tiny glance at him, you saw him lost in his own mind as well, his fingers nervously drumming against his thigh. he knew exactly what you were thinking about.
quincy shrugged, continuing to play the track as you both prepared for the next line.
“you know the sun rise for you..” you sang back, your voice a bit unstable under the weight of his stare, the raw tension in the booth becoming almost too hot to handle.
“give me that mornin' dew.” you both finished in a breathless harmony, the final note lingering in the air.
the track faded into the pre-recorded chorus, your blended voices pouring through the headphones in a seamless wave of sound. through the double paned glass, you could see quincy losing his mind, he was throwing his head back in approval, and grooving in his chair.
before the chorus could even finish winding down, quincy slapped the talkback button. “yes! that is what i'm talking about! the chemistry is perfect, y'all!” he barked out a laugh, completely oblivious to how hard your heart racing.
“we ain’t done yet though. y/n, stay right there. the beat is looping back. i need you to take this next part just on your own. michael, back off the mic and let her ride it.”
michael gave a slow nod, stepping back just half a pace, but he didn't take his eyes off you. his chest rose and fell in time with yours, waiting to see what you would do.
the beat dropped into a deeper groove, stripping away the heavy layers to leave the track completely open for you. you looked down at the lyric sheet, your eyes widening slightly as you read the next lines. they were extremely explicit, dripping with a raw sensuality that felt too dangerous to sing with michael standing in the same room as you.
you hesitantly leaned into the microphone, praying your voice wouldn't get weak on you. “ah, i get so excited when i feel you touch my thighs..” you sang, squeezing your eyes shut.
“my hands are cold, ma. can you warm them up for me?” michael asked, his voice a low octave as he held onto the steering wheel of his car. you nodded weakly, your breath catching in your throat as his large palm made contact with your skin, sliding slowly up from your knee. his hand was extremely cold, creating a slow path up your inner thigh. you whimpered, parting your legs slightly as his fingers moved higher, sliding underneath the hem of your skirt until he felt the soft fabric of your panties. “you're so wet for me, baby..” he groaned softly, his long fingers hooking into the lace, pressing against your the direct wetness as you let out a small moan.
from the corner of your eye, you saw michael's jaw tighten, his eyes locking onto yours as if he could see the exact memory playing in your head.
“baby, slow down 'cause i'ma be late for my ride.” you continued, holding the notes effortlessly, even though your mind was elsewhere.
you were on top of michael after begging him to let you be in control, the sudden shift of roles making your heart race as you sank down onto him. you were riding him passionately, the heat between you consuming the room. his large hands locked firmly onto your waist, his thumbs digging deep into your hips to guide your movements. he threw his head back against the pillows, a low groan ripping from his throat as you rode him harder, second guessing your decision to be on top from how deep it felt inside of you. “michael.. i..” you panted, biting your lip as you tried your best to handle the overwhelming sensation between your legs. “keep going, mama. you can take it.” he reassured, his voice thick with hunger as you slid up and down him in a rhythm that left the both of you completely breathless.
“i'm feelin' faded out my mind... a little morning dew..” you closed your eyes, the lyrics completely mirroring the sensations rushing through your body.
“there's a river inside that flows from our love... you can tap in but don't, don't tap out, oh.”
“don't stop, michael. please, don't stop.” you had whispered against his lips, unraveled as you chased your climax. he growled softly, flipping you onto your back without breaking the connection. his curls were sweaty as he pinned your wrists above your head, his body burying into yours with desperate thrusts. “you're taking me.. so well, baby.” he breathed heavily, a needy sound escaping him with every push. he kept pounding into you, driving you closer and closer to your orgasm, his muscles tensing as he held himself deep inside you.
“it's a slip in the slide, that front to back love. right there baby, don't tap out, tap out.”
“right there, michael, please.” you begged, your back arching off the mattress, your voice breaking as he hit that sweet spot perfectly. “there? hm? you like that?” he asked, a dark smirk tracing his lips as he held your legs up high. he let out a loud moan as he thrust heavier and deeper into you, hitting the spot over and over again. “god, always so tight for me, mama.” he choked out until your body collapsed around him, his lips instantly kissing your forehead to tell you how good you did.
the final note lingered in the air as you opened your eyes and realised michael was staring right at you through the light of the booth. he knew. he had remembered every single second of it, too. the same question ran through both of your minds, maybe y’all should run it back?
Synopsis: Based off of this ask. Mike kept his word with Break of Dawn
Pairing: Mature era Michael Jackson x black fem!reader
Warnings: Smut, smut, smut and more smut. So much smut. So much filth. So much nastiness. Prepare yourself. MDNI I will find you, and when I find you...I will end you.
Drea's Note: Beneath the break lies the nastiest, filthiest, raunchiest thing I have ever adjusted my fingers to type out on a keyboard into a document. I am ashamed of myself for fulfilling this request (a lie) ENJOY. motavaation, motavaetion, motavaetion!!!
Your hands move over Michael’s body, greedy and desperate. He signed at your touch and held the back of your neck as you kissed him. Your tongues dance with each other, tasting and exploring each other’s mouths while you loosen the tie around his neck.
Michael shifted you onto his lap, hands resting on your clothed thighs, before they rubbed gently over them. You managed to get his tie off, slinging it to the ground before your fingers work feverishly to unbutton his shirt.
“Need you so badly, Mike.” You whisper, resting your forehead against his. He chuckles and pecks your lips. He dipped his hands beneath your t-shirt, pressing them flat on your bare back while you continued unbuttoning his shirt. When you fully unbutton it, you run your fingers over his chest, pulling a contented groan from him. Michael tilts your chin down and presses his lips to yours in another sweet kiss.
“Stand up for me,” Michael commands softly, patting your thighs. You comply, standing right between his legs, close enough that he can hook his long fingers on the strap of your leggings, pulling them down along with your cotton panties. You lift your feet to let the fabric pool at your sides while Michael tosses his t-shirt with them.
“Beautiful.” He whispered, guiding you back onto his lap. His fingers find their way between your legs, squeezing the warm skin of your inner thigh before he presses his thumb against your clit. You gasp and giggle excitedly when he pushes his index and middle fingers between your wet pussy lips. Without warning, he slips his index finger into you, then his middle finger, thrusting them into you, lazy and unhurried. Your hips grind on his fingers involuntarily, walls gently pulsating around them while he keeps that slow pace.
“Mike, I’m…” Your heartbeat quickens, and he hums, biting his lower lip with a wicked grin plastered across his face. With a shaky hand, you run your fingers through his hair, semi-focused on his expression as you ride his fingers.
Your inner thighs tingle as a soft orgasm threatens to come over you. Michael doesn’t let up. He curls his fingers just right with every thrust, hitting that perfect spot within you as he tilts his head to watch you fall apart. Soon enough, you cumming on his fingers. Your hand in his hair grips the back of his neck, lower lip between your teeth as you sigh loudly—a pathetic attempt to muffle your moans.
Michael scoffs at your reaction, shaking his head in disapproval. “Tsk, I don’t like that.”
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You lie completely naked on the king-sized bed in the main bedroom, your back against the cool duvet as Michael rids himself of his pants and boxers.
“Gonna make you cum all night, baby,” he teases, gripping the underside of your knees before pulling you to the lowermost end of the bed, “Gonna make love to you, then fuck you, then make love to you over and over again.”
“Fuck—” His words shoot straight to your middle, a hot, fuzzy feeling erupting right below your belly button. The slight friction burn from him yanking you forward goes unnoticed as he kneels between your legs and presses teasing kisses to your inner thigh. Your hips buck, needing more attention right where he’s purposefully ignoring you.
“So needy,” Michael blows on your clit, then kisses your thighs again. “What do you want, ma, hmm?”
“Please?” You whine, attempting to push his head forward.
“Tell me what you want, sweetheart.” Mike resists your push, blowing on your clit again. His cool breath makes your body tingle, nipples hardening in response.
This is torture. He’s so close yet so far. You could easily push yourself forward and connect his lips to your needy centre, but he’d just pull back and leave you begging.
“Tell me,” Mike repeats, squeezing the flesh of your butt with two fingers.
“Eat my pussy, Mikey. Please.” You give in, pressing your head hard against the mattress.
“Good girl.” Michael praises you before diving right in. His tongue flattens over your vulva, then slides upwards before he presses open-mouthed kisses over your clit. He moans like a starved man, sucking and licking your wet skin with lustful eyes focused on your reaction.
Your back arches as he devours you, hands gripping the duvet while you moan uncontrollably. Michael lifts your legs up and places one on each shoulder, giving him more access to your dripping pussy. He circles his tongue over your clit, then slides two fingers into you. Your breath goes frantic when he sucks on your clit and curls his fingers inside of you, causing yet another orgasm.
“Oh my god—Mike!” You finally speak, voice strained and shaky. Your hips rock in tandem with his fingers, a tight knot in your belly so close to unravelling.
“That’s it, sweet thing,” Michael mumbles with his mouth still wrapped around your clit.
You fall apart again, eyes squeezing shut as you moan his name with a cracked voice. Your legs shake and press against Michael’s face, pussy oozing with arousal over his chin. Michael hums against you, lapping his tongue over your juices with a satisfied grin.
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You’re on all fours, face pressed into a soft pillow with your mouth slightly hanging open. Michael’s on his knees behind you. His hands are gripping your hips while he ploughs into you with unimaginable speed, leaving you mumbling sweet nothings, senseless and dumb. His dick, long and thick, stretches you out unapologetically with every sharp snap of his hips.
Michael—ever the tease—strokes the back of your head with a gentle touch, cooing to you in a voice so soothing it leaves your mind numb.
“Such a good girl, hmm? Taking me so fucking well, sweet thing.” He speaks between thrusts, dipping his other hand between your legs to play with your clit. He rubs slow circles on it, a juxtaposition to his feverish thrust. Your mumbles turn into cries of pleasure, eyes watering and dampening the pillow below, while your pussy clenches around Michael.
“Mike—Mike, slow down—shit!” You beg through whimpers, your hands gripping the top of the duvet.
“Are you sure? Ah—” Michael asks mockingly before he moans too.
You shake your head, whining a loud ‘no!’ as another orgasm takes over your body. Your moans are loud, really loud. Michael pulls your head up by the hair when you try to muffle your pleasurable whines in the pillow. You scream his name, pussy gripping his dick so hard he comes undone too. Michael’s seed pours into you, coating your walls with warm arousal as he groans over your back, falling flat on top of you.
You both lie there unmoving, breathing erratically while Michael strokes your head again. He chuckles, and you do the same, knowing damn well what he’s thinking.
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Michael pushes into you again, making you both whine at the contact. You’re on your back again, legs circled around his hips with your hands gripping his biceps as he uses your hips to guide himself in and out of your sensitive pussy. His thrusts are unhurried, rolling his hips with a lazy rhythm. He’s making love to you now, teasing your clit with his thumb while one hand cups your boob. Each push of his hips makes you sigh breathlessly. Your eyes stay closed most of the time, opening them when he almost pulls out completely just to push back in with that leisurely pace.
“So sweet for me,” Michael moans, pinching your nipple, “Wish I could lie in you forever.”
“Michael…” You whimper, raking your finger over his toned back when he leans down to press a kiss to your lips. Michael groans into the kiss, mouth parting to let your tongue slide over his lower lip. You suck on his lip, then bite it before licking to soothe it. To say you’re lost in a sensual haze is an understatement. You’re completely gone. Your eyes are glossy with shiftless tears, hands gripping every reachable inch of Michael’s warm body while you moan and whimper mindlessly as he makes you come yet again.
This time, your orgasm is lethargic, drawing long and dazed moans of Michael’s name out of you. Michael buries his face in the crook of your sweat-slick neck, breathing in your scent while your pussy squeezes him with fluttering pulses.
“Fuck, you’re so tight—mmmm.” He whimpers near your ear, trying his best to hold it together. You wrap your arms around his neck and curl your fingers in his hair, moaning directly in his ear.
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Michael leads you downstairs, hand holding yours as your feet patter barefoot on the cool tiles. You’re both parched, throat dry from all the panting and moaning. He opens the fridge and grabs two bottles of water, popping one open and handing it to you. Your throat thanks you when you take a sip, letting the cold liquid slide down your pharynx.
“I ain’t done with you, you know that?” Michael sips from his own bottle, holding soft eye contact with you.
“Are you serious?” You almost choke on water, skin cooling down as you both stand in the kitchen naked.
“What did I say before you came on my mouth?”
Fuck
“Come on,” Michael tosses his empty bottle in the bin, placing yours on the kitchen island as he holds a hand out for you, “I wanna try something new with you.”
You raise your brows, curiosity evident in your smile as you take his hand in yours and follow him upstairs. On your way up, you poke his butt with your acrylic nail, making him scowl playfully.
“Watch it.” Michael turns around, dick hardening already for what’s to come.
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Michael lies on his back, calm and drunk with desire. He motions for you with a finger, eyes hooded and dark as you crawl on top of him. You drop your hips and straddle his fully-hardened dick, rocking over him. Your slick coats his length in your arousal as he ponders for a moment.
“Come ride my face, sweet thing.” He taps his cheeks with long fingers. “Lemme taste that pretty pussy again.”
You wasted no time, crawling further up his body until your glossy centre’s inches away from his lips. Michael inhales your scent, humming in admiration before he tapes your round butt.
“Turn around for me. Want that ass right here.” Michael’s voice rumbles between your legs.
You raise a nervous brow, tilting your head to the side with an awkward smile. “Are you sure?”
“Do I look unsure?” He quips and licks his lips.
You look down at him and bite your lip, shaking your head in disagreement.
He looks very sure.
You turn around, legs on either side of his upper body. The new angel gives him complete access to your ass and pussy. He wastes no time, pulls you down to his lips, pushing his tongue into your needy hole. His tongue explores you as much as possible, lapping at your fresh arousal like a man dying of thirst.
You groan in surprise, fondling your tits as your hips rock against his mouth. When you look down, you notice his unattended dick lying hard on his thigh. As if driven by sheer hunger, you lean forward and wrap your hands around him, still moaning as Michael works behind you. You spit on his tip, thick silva trailing down his large length before you stroke him lazily. Michael’s tongue inside you halts for a second when he whimpers at your touch. Your hands squeeze him in between strokes, making him moan more and more against your dripping pussy.
When you wrap your lips around his tip, all hell breaks loose. Michael thrusts involuntarily into your mouth, whimpering around your clit, which makes you moan too. A sultry song between lovers breaks in your shared bedroom. Your moans vibrating through his body only make him moan, doing the same to you. Not only do your moans add extra friction between you two, but they also fuel you both on. You bob your head over Mike’s thick dick, slurping on your own slip, which trails down his length. Michael bucks his hips in unison with your head bobs, hitting the back of your throat with a twitching tip. He doesn’t stop eating you out either. His tongue buries itself in your pussy again, moaning over your clit while he messily sucks on it. His chin and cheeks are drenched in a mix of yours and his arousal, a mix of wetness and semen coating his chiselled jaw while he presses open-mouth kisses to your vulva.
You cum concurrently. Michael’s hands grip your soft ass while he spills into your mouth. His warm cum coats your throat, some dripping out of your mouth as you cough from choking slightly. You don’t stop stroking him. Your hands move up and down his dick while you suck on his oozing tip, milking him dry for all he has. When you cum, you cover Michael’s lips in slick arousal. He drinks it all, whimpering and lapping his tongue to capture every drop of your orgasm into his mouth.
“Tastes so good—fuck!” Michael groans, drinking your last drop of arousal. He smacks your ass then rubs the plush flesh, definitely leaving a bruise. Your legs finally give in, and you almost suffocate him with your ass when you fall against him. Michael laughs a hearty but exhausted laugh when he pushes you off his face.
“Sorry.” You giggle and rest your head atop his sweaty chest, wiping a drop of your cum off his lip. Michael grasps your hand and licks your finger clean, greedy for every drop of you. “Jeez, Mike.”
“What?” He shrugs and kisses your finger. “You taste good, ma.”
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Birds chirp outside, indicating the dawn of a new day. Michael flips you both on your side, spooning you under the thick covers. His hand cups your boob, then slides down to push your leg slightly forward. His dick lies hard on your thigh, ready for another round.
“Nigga, you’re crazy.” You whine, fighting sleep, but suddenly feel turned on again.
“I made you a promise.” Mike presses his tip to your entrance, asking for permission. “Sun’s not up yet.”
You nod and he slowly—lazier than before—eases himself into you. You both sigh. Michael drapes his arm over your belly, pressing his face to the back of your neck with closed eyes. Your eyes are shut too, cheek pressed against your pillow as you intertwine your hand in his.
He makes love to you again, hips thrusting sluggishly from all the sensitivity from your previous activity. He whimpers into your skin, praising how you feel and how much he loves you and your body. You’re utterly gone too, mouth ajar and drooling on your pillow. You whine his name over and over again, letters morphing into each other as you twitch from super-sensitivity.
“Sweet thing. You drive me wild.” Michael grazes his teeth on the back of your neck, dick twitching inside you. His pace lets you feel every vein and ridge of his length, turning you on more than you thought possible.
“I love you, Mikey.” Your voice cracks, and you orgasm one more time. “I—I love you so much.”
“Love you more, ma.” Michael fills you with seed once more, groaning pathetically on your skin as his hips falter. “I love you more.”
