laurenzo // she/her // august leo //📍CLE // still in school so posts will be VERY irregular // playlist
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⤷ about my blog
multi-fandom // may or may not be explicit, stated in warnings // black writer and black written // this blog is inspired by my favs, miss ke (@yourleogf) and yanni (@youluvyanni)
Fandoms :: mha • jjk • dc • twisted wonderland • blue lock • demon slayer • alien stage • danganronpa • tokyo revengers • hxh • naruto • death note • paswg • Seraph of the End • One Piece • obey me • gachiakuta • shameless • the outsiders • arcane • cxk samurai • the freak circus • stranger things • marvel • jjba • kenji • bsd • ect
current hyperfixation :: Michael Joseph Jackson
requests :: always open
Masterlist (heavy wip)
Hi babe. So I need a breeding kink fic when reader is looking so delicious he can’t resist.
Cuz this man literally has Leo venus ans taurus mars!!! It’s just HAS to be truthful
ohhhh ur so good for requestin this
.✦── achin' for you
wc: 2.5k
̩͙ ⠳⠀⠀ .⠀⏜ pairing: dangerous era!michael x fem! reader ̩͙
tags: smut, breeding kink, creampie, body worship, emotional smut, ovulation kink, mike is down BAD - trust, overly horny mike,
A/N: this was written in like 2 hrs in a Starbucks the tense is all over the joint so … be gentle w me
18+ mdni... or ill getcha
the tour bus sways slightly as the driver merges across the highway lanes. the tinny sound of the metal hauling over asphalt was a strange but soothing sound.
miles of dark highway blurred past the windows; swallowing the roar of the stadium crowd still ringing in your bones. the air on the bus was close and smelled of stale coffee, leather, a faint hint of hairspray.
you stood dripping and furious in the narrow corridor, a sodden puddle forming around your bare feet on the plush carpet, the air conditioning raising goosebumps on your skin.
“no towels,” you seethe to the empty lounge, your voice tight, “not a single goddamn towel in this whole billion-dollar bus,” and you stomp, barefoot and naked, past the kitchenette, past the bank of TVs showing silent security feeds, your hair still dripping, painting cold tracks down your spine with every furious stride. you hoped michael could hear you.
he’s could hear you, of course.
he lay propped against a mountain of pillows on the massive bed that took up the entire rear wall, a hardcover book open in his lap.
but his eyes aren’t on the page, they’re tracking you, a slow liquid sweep from your damp scowling face, down the sheen on your collarbones, over the curve of your breasts, the dip of your stomach, the swell of your hips, as you march to the dresser bolted to the wall.
“unbelievable,” you mutter, yanking a drawer open, the sound loud and violent in the quiet, rummaging around in the top drawer. your pyjamas were off with the laundry department that were on hire for the dangerous tour so you had to make do with michael’s long black band t-shirts.
“i feel gross, puffy, my body’s just holding onto everything this week, i’m up three pounds from yesterday... my jeans are tight in the wrong places, everything feels swollen and sore and wrong,” you keep rummaging, seething about the fact your cycle has you ovulating… it was a curse - you were horny but… pudgy as your hormones fluctuated.
you shook out an old AC/DC shirt-with no holes, because heaven knows you were always finding old sentimental shirts with gaping gaps in em- and in the turning, caught your reflection in the mirror. The frown was already there, deep and worn
“look,” you whined, “it’s like my body’s betraying me,” and you slap a hand against your outer thigh, the sound a sharp, satisfying smack in the quiet. “ugh ive gotten so soft”
that’s when he speaks, his voice a low warm rumble that seems to vibrate through the floor and up into the soles of your feet. he hasn’t spoken in a bit.
“i like it.”
you freeze, the shirt halfway over your head, pull it back down, and turn to look at him. he’s closed the book, set it aside. his gaze is unwavering, dark as the night outside the window, utterly focused. his hair is natural, down and soft looking. he’d showered directly after the show, so it had gone a little fuzzy.
he looked sweet sitting there - a goofy tshirt from Disney world that he’d worn the print so bad with washes, that the cartoon looked deformed. the tshirt was bundled up on his stomach, showing a dark wiry happy trail that led down into some plaid boxer shorts.
you drunk him in, how pretty he looked without his makeup, and the cute little splodges of pigment on his legs. he was so endearing, but hot at the same time, you kinda just wanted to —
“wait what?”
you had totally lost your train of thought whilst looking at him. and he knew it.
“i like seein’ you a little fuller,” he says, simple as stating the time, his eyes drifting back to your thighs,
“specially there. when i’m between your legs, with my mouth on you… i can really feel them then.” he smirked at you, his eyes dancing with mirth. he was teasin’ cause he knew you were horny.
“they press against my ears, my cheeks. they cradle me in. it’s like… the whole world is just your taste and the softness of your thighs. i love that feelin’.”
he says it all so matter-of-factly, so honestly, that the anger seeps out of you, replaced by a slow creeping heat spreading low in your belly. you smirk, a deflection.
“you’re so full of it, mike. you’d say anything to get laid.”
he swings his legs off the bed, pads over to you on silent feet, “no, no i mean it. i see you gettin’ frustrated with yourself. but to me… you look healthy. strong. your skin’s got this warmth to it.” his hands come up, resting lightly on your hips through the soft cotton of the shirt, his thumbs finding the new gentle curve of your lower belly,
“it’s not just weight. it’s your body workin’. doin’ what it’s meant to. Protectin’ you. it makes you softer right here,” he murmurs, pressing gently against your lower tummy, “it’s mother nature. I’ve read about it.”
you roll your eyes but the heat in your belly is a traitorous spreading warmth, a direct counterpoint to the frustration knotting your shoulders,
“you’re just sayin’ that. we’ve been eating trash food and I’ve been having one too many cocktails with the crew at the after parties. that’s why i’m bloated and irritable and down on myself“
you brought your arms up to rest around his neck. “you’re just trying to make moves because you know my cycle and know I’m ovulatin’” your mouth quivers into a sly smile.
“I see you looking in my diary mike”
the moment the word leaves your lips—ovulatin’—his entire demeanor shifts, subtle but profound, the sleepy appreciative warmth in his eyes sharpening into a focused, almost crazed intensity, his pupils dilating, the hands on your hips stilling then flexing, his fingertips pressing in just a fraction more, as if he can feel the truth of it under his palms.
he doesn’t bother to laugh the accusation off. he just looks at you, his dark eyes serious, almost shy in that terrifyingly focused way. he closed the last bit of distance, his body heat a wall against the bus’s chill,
“its jus ‘cause i love you,” he says, his voice dropping even lower, becoming hushed, “i can tell without the diary. you’ve got a… a glow about you this week. a warmth. i’ve been noticin’ it.”
“you’re such a darling thing when you’re hormonal, you’re little frustrated faces,” he continues, teasing. his voice is low though, almost a mumble.
hes clearly nervous. he’s correcting your assumption that he’s only noticing because he wants sex, his gaze dropping to his thumbs tracing the shape of you,
“i think about it — i mean… when you’re like this… a little softer. it means your body is… ready. And it makes you hotter” he’s fumbling over his words.
“you think about me bein’ hormonal and puffy? Does that get you off?” you tease, but your voice has lost its edge, caught in the gravity of his stare.
he shakes his head in aggreeance, finally looking up at you, a flush creeping up his neck but it isn’t from just embarrassment now, it’s from a building raw tenderness, “i think about you bein’… ready for me. your body knowin’ exactly what it wants. what it’s meant for.” his grip tightens, pulling you a half-inch closer, “it’s all i’ve been able to think about today.”
“tell me more.” you whisper
he ducks his head, his forehead touching your shoulder, his words a warm secret murmur against your skin, “i imagine you. full with my child. for real. your hips would get a lil wider, to make room. you’d be so heavy with it. all round and soft. beautiful, and your breasts…” he trails off, his breath catching, “they’d be full, too. achin’ sometimes… y’know. from the milk. and i’d want to ease the ache for you, suckle on em and make you feel good.”
the image is so stark, so visceral, it steals the air from your lungs.
“you’re out of your mind,” you breathe, deflecting but you’re arching into his touch, the frustration melting under a wave of sheer wanton need.
he reaches around with both hands, his palms broad and warm, and takes a firm, deliberate hold of your backside, his fingers sinking into the soft, full flesh through the worn cotton of the t-shirt. he squeezes gently, kneading, pulling you a fraction closer against him until you can feel the hard line of his arousal pressed against your stomach.
“i know,” he whispers back, his voice a low, rough vibration against your lips as he finally lifts his head. all the earlier softness, the boyish shyness, is gone, completely stripped away. what remains is a look of pure, undiluted intent, his eyes so dark they seem to swallow the dim light of the bus.
“baby, we’ve waited,” he says, the words thick with a pent-up hunger you can feel in the tremor of his hands.
“been so damn careful. pills, condoms, timin’… playin’ it safe like our lives depended on it.” he leans in, his forehead touching yours, his breath hot and shared. “tonight, i don’t wanna be careful. i don’t wanna hold back a single goddamn thing.”
his hands slide from your backside, smoothing up the curve of your spine, and find the hem of the shirt. his knuckles brush the bare skin of your waist, sending a lightning-bolt shiver through you. in one slow, deliberate motion, he begins to gather the soft black fabric in his fists, lifting it, exposing you inch by inch to the cool air and the heat of his gaze.
“let me fill you up” he breathes, the words a formality, “please. i need to feel you. all of you. i need to be close to you. right now.”
you nod, a tiny helpless motion, that’s all the permission he needs. because deep down you want it too.
you’d usually tell him, the words a breathless, unconvincing plea in the dark, “n-no, mike, pull out, please,” even as your thighs would clamp tight around his hips, your ankles locking at the small of his back, your whole body pulling him deeper, holding him in-every clutching movement screaming the exact, desperate opposite of the weak protest leaving your lips.
the last pretense of patience evaporates, he kisses you then, deep and slow. a sweet, thorough claiming of your mouth that has your knees buckling, he walks you backward until your legs hit the edge of the massive bed, he lays you down, following you, his body covering yours, all lean warm muscle and trembling urgency.
he pushes the t-shirt up and over your neck, his mouth leaving a searing trail down your throat after your bare for him. over your collarbone, and then lower, he takes one nipple into his mouth, sucking hard, his tongue circling the peak until you cry out, your back bowing off the mattress.
“we’re always so lost in followin’ the rules,” he mutters against the damp skin of your sternum, his hands gripping the softness of your hips, holding you still, “but not tonight. I cant, not when you’re lookin so good like this.”
he moves down your body, his breath hot on your belly, his thumbs hooking in the hollow behind your knee bone to spread you open.
he doesn’t even bother teasing, he puts his mouth on you with a low grateful sound, his tongue laying a broad wet stripe over your clit before settling into a slow relentless rhythm, his nose pressed against you, his cheeks cushioned by the flesh of your thighs.
he loves you with his mouth, tender and thorough, until you’re shuddering, your heels digging into his back, until you’re whispering his name into the quiet of the bus that’s still driving, only when you’re clenching around nothing, your hips lifting off the bed in a silent plea, does he rise up.
he scrambles back on his knees, his movements suddenly frantic, boyish with eagerness. he hooks his thumbs into the waistband of his plaid boxers and shoves them down in one hurried, graceless motion, kicking them off his ankles. he’s already hard, the heavy, flushed weight of him curving up against his stomach, the skin taut, patchy and gleaming in the low light. the sight of him, so desperately ready, so stripped of his usual controlled grace, makes a bubble of fond laughter threaten in your chest. you bite down hard on your lower lip to trap it, the pressure turning into a shaky, wanton smile instead.
he doesn’t even seem to notice, his entire world is you. the space space between your thighs. he moves over you, the broad, aching crown of him nudging insistently against your soaked entrance, his whole body trembling with the effort of holding still. a fine sheen of sweat gleamed on his temple. his breath sawed in and out of his chest.
"god, look at you," he choked out, his voice wrecked. "so ready. you're always lovely but tonight… tonight you're perfect."
he leaned forward and dropped his forehead against yours, his eyes squeezed shut, his hips giving a tiny, involuntary jerk against your clit that made you both gasp with pleasure.
“i need to put a baby in you so bad it's makin' me stupid."
you can’t speak, you instead just nod. your eyes are watering with the emotion of it all.
you wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him closer, your answer in the arch of your body.
a broken sound tears from his throat and he sinks into you, deep, one long devastating thrust that stretches you perfectly, hilting him completely, a punched-out gasp leaving your lips. he’s staring at you, his face strained with the angle but still so perfect.
his lips full and red, a vein on his forehead protruding with his concentration. you reach up and thumb his mouth, right over his perfect cupids bow.
“yes baby, I love you so m-much, you make me feel so good” you mutter over and over again and he’s saying it back, it’s perfect, your voices harmonising in the quiet space
he’s moving purposefully, each thrust lived in a little longer before he pulls out to drive back in, it’s tender in its absolute focus.
he moves with a deep rolling rhythm, his eyes locked on yours, fluttering shut every one and a while from pleasure. every push is a claim, every withdrawal a promise to return.
"gonna watch you change," he pants, the words hot and broken against your mouth, his forehead slick with sweat where it presses to yours. all you can taste is salt.
"day by day. gonna feel it happen under my hands." his hips roll, crazily slow, your eyes rolling to the back of your head. "your skin gettin' tighter. your curves. all mine. you're gonna be so damn beautiful it'll ruin me.
after a few minutes of this slow claiming pace, he pulls out almost completely, his breath ragged, “turn over for me,” he murmurs, his hand guiding your hip, “on your side.”
you comply, curling onto your side, he slides in behind you, one arm hooking under your top knee, hiking your leg up high, the angle is obscenely deep, intimate, he can go no further, and he begins to move again, shorter sharper thrusts that rub a spot inside you that makes stars burst behind your eyelids, “Jesus,” he grunts, his lips against your shoulder blade, “you feelin’ okay baby?”
He continues to breathlessly talk to you in between thrusts; “m’so happy i have this with you, so safe, so right”
you can only moan in response, he picks up the pace and starts mercilessly rubbing your clit with his four fingers. but you can feel the tension start building in him, the way his breaths are becoming ragged and the uncoordination; he’s not going to last.
“i need you on top,” he gasps suddenly, stilling, “i need to see you. need to watch you take me.”
he helps you turn, guiding you to straddle his hips, you sink down onto him, a slow breathless descent, for a moment you just rock and grind there, your hands braced on his chest, setting the pace.
“s-shit that’s good” you mumble
he lets you keep your pace for a bit, his hands roaming over your stomach, your breasts, his eyes worshipful, “look at you,” he breathes, “takin’ me. so beautiful like this.”
‘you’re perfect, so utterly perf–”
but then his control frays, his hands come up to grip your waist, then slide around to clutch your back, pulling your torso down hard against his chest, he holds you there, locked to him, your breasts pressed against his sweat laced skin, your face buried in his neck,
“stay like that m’girl” he whispers, his voice strained, and he begins to thrust upward, fast and desperate, driving into you from below. the force of it drives the air from your lungs, you can’t move, can’t do anything but cling to him as he moves under you, his hips pistoning. you were dizzy from how good it felt, him reaching your g-spot over and over again, with ease.
this is what undoes him, the feel of you pinned, taking him, while he drives himself home,
“’m close, baby, i’m so close,” he chants into your hair, his rhythm becoming erratic.
“let me…” he chokes on the pleasure slightly. “let me be on top for this,” he manages to grit out, “i need to… i need to see your face as i fill you up”
he rolls you both over in one fluid, desperate motion- a half-spin that leaves him on top again, never slipping out, his weight settling over you and his arms caging your head.
he’s breathing like a sprinter, his entire body taut, “i’m gonna finish inside you,” he pants, almost again shyly asking for permission. you nod and give a clipped “mhmm”
the vein in his temple throbs. “gonna give you all of me’,” he rasps, his voice scraped raw from the force of holding back. “every drop. you’re gonna take it. c’mon, baby. say you will. say it for me”
“shit–please,” you sob, your own climax building again, triggered by his desperation, “yes, michael– please.”
with a shattered cry he drives into you one final grinding time and holds, buried to the hilt, you feel him pulse, a hot rhythmic flooding deep inside you that seems to go on and on,
“ah—god, ohhh, sweet je— mhmm…” he groans, totally nonsensically, his body convulsing with each release, you clench around him, milking him through your own climax, as he messily rubs your clit with his thumb. you think even his words were enough to put you over the edge this time.
he stayed there, softening inside you. he looked like incredulous. “oh my god, that felt incredible,”
he sighed again, eyes roaming all over your body and then stilled at where you were both joined. “m’gonna have to do that every time now til we make a baby”
“uh-huh. Im pretty sure thats how this whole thing works– you have to do it over and over” you giggle.
‘Mhmm m’not complainin’ baby”
slowly, he slips out of you, but he doesn’t roll away, he shifts down your body, his movements languid, possessive, he hooks his hands behind your knees, pushing your legs up and apart, opening you to the cool air of the bus—and to his gaze.
there, in the dim light, his release is already beginning to seep out, he watches it, his expression one of profound quiet awe, he presses a thumb gently against you, spreading you open a fraction further, a thicker trickle escapes and slides down.
“look at that,” he murmurs, his voice hushed and full of wonder,
“filled my baby up so nicely.” he leans down and places a soft lingering kiss low on your belly, then looks back up at you, his eyes shining,
“you’re gonna be incredible. carryin’ our child. your body’s meant for it. you’re gonna be so beautiful, all round and glowin’.”
he doesn’t say anything else, he just gathers you, pulls you against his chest, and wraps himself around you, one hand splayed low on your stomach.
his dream is no longer just in the air between you, it’s a warm claiming presence inside you, and his quiet steady breathing against your back is pure satisfied possession.
your stupid ass certainly ruins the moment.
"Uh, Mike—" you whined, the spell thoroughly broken. "I gotta pee and you're squishin' me."
he laughs heartily and rolls away from you.
“yeaaaah forgot about the whole ‘peein’ directly after thing’.”
He pauses and then feigns anger. “don’t be such a moany pants”
you rolled your eyes and got up.
“Mhm laugh and joke now, michael, you’ll know all about moanin’ when I’m 8 months pregnant and the size of a minivan with anger issues”
michael gets upset when you give your attention to another man
smut MDNI, bratty!mike, possessive!mike, he’s jealous but he also might be right, he really don’t listen to you, dom!reader(?), cowgirl, overstim, crying, blackfem!reader, otw!era
based on this request
Michael loved coming to surprise you at your job.
When he wasn’t too busy, he would always visit, occasionally bringing you food or gifts.
Sometimes you’d be too busy to sit and talk with him. You worked at a daycare and he understood how the job required your full attention. So he’d just plop down on a stool, a big grin on his face as he watched you run around after little babies, wipes in hand to clean them up after lunchtime.
He’d help sometimes. The kids seemed to like him a lot. You’d once told him that, on days he didn’t visit, they’d all ask about him.
“Where’s your boyfriend at?” one little girl had inquired, with you having to reassure her that he’d be back tomorrow.
Michael never minded helping you entertain them though, he adored kids.
Today, he had Bill pull the car up to the small building that was the daycare, little colorful handprints decorating the outside of the structure. He knew your shift was just about over so he came to give you a ride home, like he often would.
As he stepped out of the car, he was met with the sound of raucous laughing and saw a bunch of little figures bounding around the playground outside.
The California sun was beaming, reflecting off the shades and cap he wore over his curls.
He noticed you as soon as he approached the building—immediately melting. You were so gorgeous it hurt him sometimes. He was so focused on you that he didn’t notice the presence of someone else, standing far too close to you for his liking.
A guy.
Michael could already feel the furrow settling on his brows.
You didn’t notice him walking in your direction as the man held your full attention, talking animatedly as you’d just laughed at something he’d said. And he might not’ve been so upset if it was just a small chuckle but no.
You’d full belly laughed— so loud he could hear from across the playground.
That caused Michael’s chest to tighten up. He didn’t like it, how much attention you were giving to this total stranger. You were his girlfriend. No one else.
“Hey baby.” he came up to your side, happily planting a small, and slightly out of character kiss on your cheek. Normally, he wasn’t one for public displays of affection but he felt it was necessary in this moment.
“Oh hey Michael.” you pat his shoulder gently before turning back to your conversation continuing on.
He couldn’t control the immediate pout that graced his features at that— brows furrowing together.
No babe, no baby, no angel. Just ‘Michael’ and an impersonal shoulder pat.
Right.
He wasn't content to let that slide so mid conversation he wrapped his arms around your waist and rested his head on your shoulder, all while staring the guy who hadn’t yet acknowledged him down.
He looked him from his head to his toe, not at all impressed. What had you giving him this much attention and Michael none?
“Michael what—,” you tried to pry his arms from you, but he wouldn’t budge.
“Just waitin’ for you ta’ finish.” he was subtly trying to get you to leave but you just continued on yapping away, Michael having zoned out of the conversation in favor of curling his lip up in disgust at the guy you were talking to.
You don’t even try to introduce him either, a fact that left him more than confused.
He started rubbing small circles on your hip then, subtly pulling up the hem of your t-shirt just a bit— you swat his hand away.
There was a small lul in the conversation that had Michael tuning back in.
“Thanks so much for your help earlier, I thought I’d never be able to get all them to behave.” the man, who’s name Michael still didn’t know, not that he even cared at this point, smiled at you, showing all thirty two.
He couldn’t have been that grateful.
“Of course, it’s my job after all.” you were as polite as ever. Sometimes, like right now— he wished you weren’t.
“I just wanted to show you how much I appreciated it. Maybe we could go to that new taco place on the corner for lunch one day, my treat.” you seemed to hesitate— a moment that Michael was grateful for.
“She doesn’t like tacos so we don’t think we’d be able to make it.” he quickly interjected, inviting himself like the invitation extended beyond just you.
Michael noticed you giving him a look from the corner of your eyes but he avoided your eye contact. You didn’t say anything to correct him either, because of course he knew that tacos were actually your favorite food.
“Oh well if you’d rather have something else we can—,” Michael's usually soft cadence cut him off, sharper than ever.
“No she wouldn’t. We’re pretty busy.” no way was this guy about to ask you out in front of him.
The moment that followed was something awkward as you’d unwrapped yourself from Michael’s arms and began dragging him away.
“Maybe a rain check, I’ll see you tomorrow David.” your tone was clipped and your grip on his arm was a bit rough but not hurting, just firm.
You addressing the man’s name had some pieces shifting in Michael’s head.
Why did the name sound so familiar?
When you two got back into his car, you’d greeted Bill and slid into the back. The silence in the car was palpable to everyone. So bad to the point where Bill slid the privacy divider into place, sealing you two together.
You looked pissed and weren’t even looking at Michael. You’d also taken the liberty to put an entire ocean of distance between you two.
“What a sucker,” he’d nearly whispered it and when your eyes rolled to his, he knew he’d fucked up.
“I don’t like tacos?” big time.
Michael opened his mouth promptly closing it again, not sure what to say.
“And what was up with the PDA, I don’t mind it, but you never do that. Especially not at my job.” you’d crossed your arms and furrowed your brows.
“So I can’t hug you now but Dave can?” he questioned, unreasonable as ever.
“I’m not even justifying that with a response.” you didn’t want to argue with him, so you just stared back out the window watching the city pass. Michael immediately felt bad.
“M’ sorry baby, it was just that guy, he could clearly tell you had a boyfriend and he was asking you out right in front of me.”
“He’s my coworker.” you deadpanned.
“Well how was I supposed to know? You didn’t even introduce me to the guy. Plus you say that like it means anything.” he wasn’t argumentative normally, but this whole situation had begun irritating him.
“And you're on first name basis already.”
“Michael, David was not asking me out. He knows about you and that you are my boyfriend.” you pinched the bridge of your nose clearly fed up.
“Well I don’t like some random guy asking out my girl.” he pouted at you— like a dog that’d had his favorite toy stolen from him.
“You clearly don’t remember our conversation from earlier.” he wracked his brain for what you could be talking about. He sheepishly smiled not wanting to say he didn’t remember and you sighed.
“I was telling you about something that happened at work and had mentioned him. Around when he first started, about how good he was to work with and how he helped with the kids a lot…” your voice trailed off and Michael got hit with sudden realization.
“Wait so that’s the guy you were talkin’ about?” you nodded.
“Yes, Michael. And do you know what this proves?” he hummed “That you just don’t listen to me.” you crossed your arms and turned away from him again effectively cutting off conversation for the rest of the ride. And he’d tried.
Poking and prodding you to prompt a conversation. But you’d just flat out ignored him.
He was staying at your place tonight— a fact he thought would give him an advantage— but it didn’t.
If anything it just made the fact that you weren’t talking to him more unbearable.
You’d spent all your evening cleaning up your place and doing tasks around the house instead. Sometimes you’d respond to him but all of them were clipped to one word phrases.
When it was time for you two to settle down for bed, you still hadn’t really spoke to him so when you went to pull down the duvet, he went up behind you and snaked his hands around your waist, gently rubbing your hips and pulling your back to his chest.
“Please mama what do I have to do to get you to talk to me?”
That question was how he ended up on your bed, tears staining his pretty face while you rode him into the mattress. You’d come twice now, your legs shaking with exhaustion, trying to keep your movements steady.
The sound of skin against skin echoed around the room along with the sound of his moans and cries.
You were practically just using him to get off, not that he minded— but you wouldn’t let him cum yet. And God he wasn’t even sure how he was holding out this long. He wanted nothing more than to cum inside you.
And the release he craved so desperately was right there— but he knew he’d already upset you once so he held out.
You were a vision above him, grinding your hips down on his, tilting your head back when it felt too good— he was in heaven right along with you. Aside from the burning feeling in his gut.
“Please, pl- needta’ cum oh-,” Michael squeezed his glassy brown eyes shut when your pussy clamped down on his dick. His pretty brown skin was flushed from head to toe, skin damp from exhaustion.
“Nu uh, since you wanted ta’ have your lil attitude,” you paused for a moment to plant your hands on his chest, body leaning forward, “you don’t get to cum yet.” he latched onto the word ‘yet’ as his lower lip disappeared between his teeth.
You’d set your rules when this whole thing started. He couldn’t touch you. Nor could he kiss you. And it was frustrating him greatly. Normally, he would grip at your hips when it got too much, or to steady you, or just to ground himself. And he’d kiss you lovingly— but not this time.
His hands hurt from how bad he’d been flexing them by his sides, balling into fists.
“Please— can’t hold on anymore mm.” he cried out begging for something to give. “I promm— I swear I’ll neva do it again.” he knew deep down he was probably lying. As much as he hated to admit it, and frequently denied, he knew he was a jealous and possessive person to his core.
“Don’t even know why you’d think I’d even entertain another.” you huffed out a breath, your hips slowing down the smallest amount.
“S’not that baby. I do trust you. I just don’t trust him.”
“Well he’s not the one here now is he?”
“No.”
“Okay then there was no need for any of that.” Michael nodded along with you a little delirious.
“So does this mean I’m off the hook?”
“Not quite.”
It was a long night for him. One that looking back he thoroughly enjoyed— almost enough to repeat the whole thing a few weeks later.
Summary: The year is 1974. It includes your group winning at the first annual American Music Awards, recording with Michael for a segment on a children’s special, and him having a serious talk with his mother.
Contains: Fluff, brief talk of Reader going on a first “date”, Michael and Reader getting to act like children, Michael is growing up, sex briefly mentioned but only in passing, center picture is only for dress reference (Reader still looks how you want).
Word Count: 4.7K
Song(s) of Choice: When We Grow Up — Michael Jackson and Roberta Flack
Masterlist
1974; American Music Awards
On the 19th of February, the first of a brand new award ceremony was held at the Earl Carroll Theatre in New York City. The American Music Awards. It was created by Dick Clarke through his production company following ABC’s contract expiration with the Grammy Awards the year prior, and their subsequent move to CBS. Michael had told you several days before how he and Donny Osmond would be co-presenting the event with Smokey Robinson, Roger Miller, and Helen Reddy, but that ultimately they’d be back on the road a few days following the event—a revelation that hadn’t failed to disappoint you.
You and your group, by early March, were going to be embarking on your second national tour. Which meant after tonight you’d be too busy preparing for that to spend any quality time with your dear friend. You’d hoped that maybe the 3 day gap in between tonight’s ceremony and when their next tour date began would leave room for it, but you knew better. Your mother was never going to allow something like that, the group was more important than something as outwardly childish as “friend time”. While she did tolerate your incessant need for companionship with him, she also had no qualms about putting a pin in it if she felt it began to come at the expense of the group.
You’d already known this, you weren’t ignorant. So, you never pressed your luck too hard on that front. Instead you’d take getting to spend that time with him in moments where it realistically allowed, such as tonight. You and your sisters—The Muses—would be in attendance to the first annual AMAs, because you were nominated for favorite Soul/R&B Band/Duo/Group.
When you all arrived at the Theatre you’d gone through the press line, allowing your pictures to be taken and giving Journalists brief interviews; primarily about your nomination and the heavy hitters you were nominated against.
“The Temptations are at the top of their game right now.” one Journalist said, “Are you worried at all about falling short?”
Tamera leaned forward and the microphone was pointed to her. “Not at all,” She shook her head, “We admire them very much, and they are at the top of their game. But we’ve been riding high since we started. I honestly think anybody could win it.” she explained.
“I think I agree,” the Journalist nodded, amused. “You girls all look lovely tonight by the way, especially you young lady.” The latter end of the compliment being directed at you.
Your dress was white, with a sequin halter top that glittered brightly under all the lights and a poofy tulle, floor length skirt. Meanwhile, your sisters wore matching white dresses with off the shoulder sleeves.
There was a short chorus of thanks from you three before you had to move on down the line, and eventually you were inside the Theatre to your seats. You were seated in the front row along with other groups and singers, those of which were likely nominated in other categories. You were seated between your sisters in particular, just as you always were at these shows.
Eventually, once everyone was seated and the clocks struck 8PM, the live orchestra began to play as the ceremony kicked off. The stage rotated clockwise to reveal Helen, Smokey, and Roger. The orchestra slowly transitioned their melody into a live rendition of Helen’s hit song Leave Me Alone as she introduced herself.
“I’m known for singing Pop songs, with a touch of Rock and Roll.” she sang. The same was done for Smokey and Roger.
“And I’m known for singing my Country songs,” Roger sang after, a rendition of King of the Road.
“And I’m heavy, I said I’m heavy, I’m really heavy into Soul.” Smokey sang his introduction last, then began singing the lyrics to his song Tears of a Clown.
The opening act, as you came to realize, was them singing a medley of all 3 songs. The genres all so different, yet they still worked flawlessly when they began to blend their songs together.
“It’s American Music, all American music,” they sang in tandem, “Hear American music at the American Music Awards!”
Everyone applauded as the song faded into a slow conclusion and Jessica leaned over to you. “Strong start,” you only laughed in response.
The Soul and R&B categories came after the Pop/Rock one later in the night. Stevie Wonder and Roberta Flack respectively had won for favorite Male and Female artist. It was now time for the next category, the one you girls found yourselves in.
Helen Reddy stood at the podium to introduce the presenters. “To present the next award, here are two of the biggest personalities in the music business.” she started.
“Their coming together tonight may rank with such historic meetings such as Rosevelt and Churchill, Stanley Livingston—I-I mean Stanley and Livingston—” Her foul-up made herself laugh and the audience with her. It gave a wholesome, natural air to the otherwise formal event.
“—Marco Polo and Kublai Khan. Ladies and gentlemen you’ll never guess who, Michael Jackson and Donny Osmond.” she finished, music played and applause soared as the two young singers came up to the podium from opposite sides of the stage to present the award for best Soul/R&B Duo or Group. Of course, not before delivering a clearly prewritten skit.
D: You know Michael, you and I are in the same boat really. You know?
M: You mean because we both sing?
D: Yeah—well—that’s the beginning of it, yeah.
M: Because we both sing with a group?
D: Well, you’re on the right track!
Donny laughed along with the audience, and they continued once it quieted.
M: Because we both sing with a group made up of our own brothers. That’s it!”
D: Well—almost, you’re getting there.
M: Because we both sing with a group made up of our own brothers…most of them older and one younger! That’s it?
D: Right right right
Donny patted Michael on the shoulder as the boy muttered “Finally” under his breath. This generated more laughs from you all and even Donny himself. You didn’t know if he’d meant for that to be heard or not, but the microphone picked it up either way.
You hadn’t really put thought into it before, but there truly were eerie similarities between the two of them. Their parents had the same number of boys and girls in the same order, and their mothers even had the same birthday.
“Do you ever get the feeling that your, uh,” Donny comically looked over his shoulders before continuing. “Your younger brother is watching and waiting?”
“You too, huh?” Michael replied.
Donny nodded, “Me too, really, really—“
“Okay, read the nominees.” Michael cut off, to which the response from people around the Theatre was that of loud cheers and clapping.
“Okay,” Donny laughed, genuinely caught off guard by the interruption. “Okay…the nominees for the favorite Soul group are Gladys Knight and the Pips.”
“The OJs,” Michael continued with a nod.
“The Temptations,”
“And the Muses,” Michael finished with a smile. “And the winner is…” he trailed, watching Donny attempt to open the letter.
“The winner is…” Donny finally got it open and flipped the card around to read the name. With a big smile, he flipped it up so the cameras could see. “The Muses!”
Your mouths fell open as the audience and other artists began to clap for you. You all stood up, and you linked hands with your sisters as you all briskly approached the stage steps. Once you were up at the podium you all hugged the boys and Tamera was handed the cone shaped award as she spoke first.
“Oh my goodness,” she gasped, “We’re incredibly grateful to be honored with this award tonight, especially with our fellow nominees being such icons.” The crowd applauded before she continued.
“First we’d like to thank Berry Gordy, Suzanne De Passe, and her creative division at Motown for constructing this album for us. Their creative minds are what give us the opportunity to win these types of awards and gain the recognition we do. Thank you, so much.”
After the clapping faded Jessica leaned in to speak next. “Thank you to our manager Ms. Olivia for keeping us on track, and to the disc jockeys for playing our records over the radio.” she said, “They fill the gaps in spreading our music when we can’t, and we wouldn’t be where we are without them.”
“But most of all, thank you to all of our fans.” you said, to which all of you on stage nodded. “Without you buying our records and coming to our shows, there’d be no us. You’re what make artists who they are with all of your support, and this award belongs just as much to you as it does us.”
The audience cheered for you all as the orchestra began to play their music, signaling that it was time to walk backstage.
“Congratulations,” Michael said in your ear as you walked. You smiled and bumped him with your hip playfully.
“Thanks,”
.
A week after the award ceremony Berry was contacted by composer Stephen J. Lawrence with a proposal. He wanted you to record for and feature in a televised version of Marlo Thomas’ Free to Be…You and Me.
Free to Be…You and Me was a children’s album and illustrative book that had been released around 16 months prior. It was a body of work that had aimed to teach kids the importance of individuality, friendship, and not placing themselves inside of a box by challenging gender norms. The album originally featured many high profile singers and was met with critical success upon release. Now, two years later Free To Be Productions and ABC wished to air an adaptive special on the network.
They were reworking one of the album’s tracks, When We Grow Up, into a duet and wanted you to be the other half of it. Berry brought it across to your mother, who was on the fence. You all were busy and there wasn’t much room for you to break away and do a side gig. So he suggested he get Stephen on the phone for the two to work something out, instead of just shooting it down outright.
“The girls go on tour March 10th,” Olivia told Stephen during their phone call.
“I hear you, but we could really use Y/N for this special.” he urged, “This segment is supposed to capture childhood innocence and the eagerness to grow up. We already have our boy, and she’s the only singing lil’ girl most kids will recognize.” he explained.
“How long would they have to record for?”
“A few days,” she rolled her eyes with a huff, a sound Stephen clearly heard as he continued to assure her. “But—it could be less, I’m already working on the new arrangement for the song. How long we take’ll depend more on how the kids do.”
“And who’s the other kid?”
“Michael Jackson,”
Well, that peaked her interest. Michael was an excellent talent with the work ethic of any passionate adult, she’d seen before in passing just how quickly he could get a recording finished. You weren’t too far behind in that yourself, but being in a studio with Michael would naturally make you pick up the pace. You two could easily get it done in just one day or two.
It was currently February 26th, a Tuesday, and you’d have to be ready for the tour by March 8th. Between recording the song and shooting the segment that gave you 10 days total to get it done. It helped that this would give you television exposure outside talk and music shows.
“Where will you be recording?”
“Well, Ms. Olivia, we decided to do the recording in Los Angeles when Michael agreed to be a part of the broadcast.” Stephen answered, “That was more convenient for him since he’s home on a break right now.”
“Where will you tape the segment?”
“New York City,” he answered quickly. “Now that should only take a day, especially if I get Tony started early on building the set.”
Olivia hummed, then nodded (not that he would see it). “Alright, but you all have until the 8th to get her back to California.”
“Yes ma’am, I’ll have her back to you in no longer than 6 days!” Stephen promised.
That was how you ended up in a Los Angeles recording studio with Michael a day later, over a week after the award show ended. You were waiting in there with the sound technician for Stephen to come back in the room.
“They didn’t tell me you’d be here.” he said after hugging you.
“That’s cause they got me on after you.” you replied. “What have you been doing since I last saw you?” All the times you’d called his residence, the phone either just rang or his mother would answer and tell you he wasn’t home.
“We’ve just been recording for a new album in between breaks,” To your ears that was astounding, it sounded as if they were being worked harder than normal. “How was your date with Donny?”
You furrowed your eyebrows, befuddled at the question. “What date?”
“With Donny?” Michael repeated, now equally confused. “He told me the other day he took you out for ice cream, after the AMAs?”
Oh, that, “No, Donny and his mother took me out for ice cream.” you corrected, “It’s not a date if your momma’s there.”
“I don’t think that’s true,” Michael chuckled with a shake of his head.
“It is true!” you lightly argued, “Besides, isn’t Donny Mormon?” To your understanding people who followed that faith didn’t casually date. If someone was their significant other that usually meant they would marry them someday.
“What’s that got to do with dating somebody?”
Before you could properly answer the door opened, and Stephen came back into the room. Within minutes the lyric sheets were set up inside the booth and the two of you were able to get to work.
It took a little while for the two of you to get into the groove of the song. Naturally you were trying to sing it the way it originally sounded on the album, but once Stephen explained the vibe he had in mind for the television special you had a better idea for how to approach it. The result was a unique rendition that exuded natural playfulness and joy.
Just as he’d guessed, the recording was finished by the end of the work day.
Within 3 more days you both were in New York City to tape your segment. The set was made to look like a big bedroom, and the furniture made using white cardboard and black marker. Michael was costumed in a pair of overalls and a red and black striped T-shirt, while you wore a red and black pinstriped dress over a long sleeve blouse and pinstriped bell bottoms; you also wore a braided pigtail wig.
The taping started with you and Michael playing dress up with different accessories. You wrapped a shawl around yourself before you began to lip sync. “When we grow up, will I be pretty?”
“Will I be big and strong?” Michael continued, wiggling a piece of styrofoam in his hand like a cigar.
Will I wear dresses that show off my knees?
Will I wear trousers twice as long?
You both give each other a once over and laugh as you continue.
Well I don’t care if I’m pretty at all
And I don’t care if I never get tall
He picked up a fake feather duster and wiggled it over your head, before you took it and plucked some of the feathers out.
I like what you look like
And you’re nice small
You joined hands with big, genuine smiles on your faces and pranced around the set as you sang in perfect harmony.
We don’t have to change at all
This was why the producers found you both so perfect for this segment. You captured the energetic spirit of what it meant to be kids who still had growing up to do, just as they’d required. Though, it did help that it still described you yourselves. Working in a fast paced business such as entertainment, it was fortunate that you were still able to tap into that side of you; but you both made it easy for each other.
The lightheartedness and optimism of not feeling pressured to change just because you grow up was something that hit close to both of your hearts. You, Michael especially, had anxieties about where your lives and careers would go once you weren’t kids anymore. Mostly as a result of overthinking, but also because of the trajectory you’d seen from child stars of past.
If being so talented so young was what made you special, what would you be once it was gone?
You didn’t know what the future held, you wouldn’t until it got here. What you did know was that you both wanted the other to still be here when it did.
I don’t wanna change, see, cause I still wanna be your friend. Forever, and ever, and ever…
.
The full special—roughly 55 minutes long—had aired on ABC on March 11th to major success, with your and Michael’s segment become a highlight of the whole project. Unfortunately by then you were already on the road and hadn’t gotten to view the completed work, but you’d heard raving things about it from radio personalities and Berry Gordy. You’d wondered if Michael had seen it himself, but you hadn’t been left with much time to dwell on it as you and your sisters were thrown into the regular industrious nature of touring.
Plane rides, tour buses, hours of performing to crowds of excitable fans, never mind the periods of limited sleep when you returned to your hotel during the early hours. It would all be more bearable if you could at least have some fun or see the sites around the country in between, but your mother never allowed it. She operated under a very strict “all work, no play” philosophy, and as far as she was concerned it heavily contributed to where you were now as a group.
So you fell into this regular routine, just like the last time you all toured the States. A routine that dragged on for the tour’s 6 month duration until you were finally home by September 20th. Much like last time, the end of this tour meant it was back into the studio to begin recording your next project.
The team of song writers and producers who normally created your material, surely, had already been hard at work building the album. You had to be at the studio in a week, until then you had rest time. Of course, you spent it at Michael’s house up in his room.
He’d told you all about the special you’d taped as you listened to the album while it played on his turntable. You both were lounging on his bed, him on his back and you on your side facing him with his arm lazily slung around you.
“Mother recorded it on tape for me if you wanna watch it later,” he told you in passing. “Our part is the best part.”
“So I’ve heard,” you giggled, then you both had fallen into comfortable silence as the music continued to play.
Moments like this were what you looked forward to when you were winding down from your job as an artist/performer. As much as you loved what you did, as much a passion as you had for music, the constant go got physically and mentally exhausting sometimes. You could never express that to your mother, she would just get annoyed and dismissive. The only other person close to you who would understand besides your own sisters was Michael.
That was why you enjoyed spending time with each other as much as you did, you felt like you could just be a normal person in his presence. You didn’t have to be the youngest member of the Muses, or big shot singer from Motown. You could feel and act like the kid that you were, and he could always do the same with you without any prior thought put into it.
You unconsciously cuddled closer to him and put an arm around his waist. By now he knew you well enough to know something was on your mind to make you do that.
“Wha’cha thinking about?” he questioned, amused.
“Nothing,” you sighed with a smile. You sounded almost relieved, “I love spending time with you like this…”
He didn’t question the sudden sentimental tone, and instead welcomed it with his next reply. “I love spending time with you too, always.”
You both fell into silence once again, listening to the songs and monologues from the album play one by one until eventually there was a knock on his door.
“Michael?” It was his mother.
“Yes, Mother?”
The door opened and she entered his room with a laundry basket in her hands. “I have your clothes here,” Upon looking up she was surprised to see the position you two were in.
“What are you kids doing?” she asked, going to Michael’s bureaux to put his folded clothing away.
“Listening to records,” he responded without missing a beat, but Katherine only hummed in acknowledgment as she continued to empty the basket.
Once she was finished she went to exit his room, but paused outside his door with her hand still on the knob. “Michael,” she called to her son to get his attention. When she got it, she continued. “I need you in the kitchen for just a second.”
He nodded and told you he’d be right back before getting up to follow his mother into the living room . She went to go put the laundry basket away while he waited for her in the kitchen, and upon her returning she sat down and patted the table beside her; signaling for him to do the same.
“Please sit, baby, I wanna talk to you.”
He pulled a chair out and sat next to Katherine without thinking twice, though his body language told that he was growing concerned. “About what?”
“Michael…” she started, slowly. “You’re a growing boy, and Y/N is growing into a lovely young woman. Do you understand that?” she asked, and he nodded. He didn’t see where she was going but she continued.
“Well, with developing into young adults comes certain…things that make relationships between young men and ladies different.”
He still wasn’t sure exactly where she was going. “Things like what?”
“Well, things—feelings—that I’m sure feel like they’re natural, but make certain things that were okay a couple years ago not so okay now.” she explained, “Like cuddling on top of your bed like you were just doing, with the door closed.”
Michael’s eyebrows furrowed just the tiniest bit at the implication, as he thought about what his mother had just said. He had his suspicion before, but he could see now that this was his mother trying her best to give him some sort of “birds and the bees” talk. One that he’d unceremoniously gotten from his father a couple years back, as unfortunate as that had been. While that whole debacle had been driven purely by Joseph wanting Michael to indulge in similar escapades with groupies akin to that of himself and his brothers (in a very messed up attempt at teaching manhood to his son), he could tell Katherine was coming from a much more thoughtful place; a worried one even.
The Jehovah’s Witness faith had very strict guidelines regarding how followers conducted themselves, particularly where it concerned love and sex. Intercourse before marriage was highly frowned upon and considered a sinful act, and parents were encouraged to properly instill these lessons into their children as early as they deemed necessary. She’d already tried doing that in much more vague ways while he was growing up, that ultimately hadn’t stuck with his brothers much at all.
But Michael was different. He already aligned himself with the faith in ways his brothers hadn’t, and on top of that had a natural aversion to the more unsavory things people around his age were getting up to. So, he didn’t quite understand why his mother felt it necessary to more directly tell him these things. Especially where it concerned he and you, you two were just friends after all; nothing more.
Though through outside eyes, the closeness of your bond at times appeared less than platonic. Cuddling, holding hands, laughing too hard at each other’s unfunny jokes, the rare instances of going out on a friendly outing with Bill chauffeuring you. You both did things that sometimes carried the quality of a young couple, but let either of you tell it and you were simply best friends.
It clearly wasn’t going in the opposite direction, and you visibly made Michael happy. Katherine didn’t have it in her heart to tell him to stop this behavior, especially not if it were actually innocent. However, just to be on the safe side she did still find it necessary to have this talk with him.
“We aren’t doing anything bad, Mother…” Michael assured.
“I know, darling.” She nodded, lightly patting his knee. “It’s just that, she’s growing into a beautiful young lady and boys your age start to notice that.”
Of course you were, you’d been known for being a cute child as soon as the world found out about you; and you were continuing to grow into your looks even now. Michael wasn’t blind, he’d always known and clearly seen you were a pretty girl, but he hadn’t ever put further thought into it beyond that. At least, not before his mother made it a point to bring it up.
He nodded his head, soaking in her words. “So we aren’t in trouble?”
“No, no baby, you’re not in trouble. I’m just saying…you’ve got to be careful, alright?” She gently rubbed his knee reassuringly, possibly more so to soothe her own anxieties than her son’s. “You’re such good kids, and it’s important you stay good kids.”
Michael already stayed on the straight and narrow as it was, he didn’t think he had to worry about being anything other than a “good kid”. As for you, other than you getting ice cream with Donny you hadn’t really spent extended time around boys that weren’t Michael (or his brothers for that matter). You didn’t particularly talk about boys or what you thought about them either, unless they were adult male singers you liked. He got the feeling you didn’t even concern yourself with boys within the sense of romantic prospect anyway, and with a mother as strict as yours there was definitely nothing to worry about.
“Okay, Mother.” Michael stated with a nod.
With a smile Katherine opened her arms to receive a hug, one Michael gave to his mother without thinking twice. “I love you, Michael. And I only ever want what’s best for you, okay?” she said as she affectionately rubbed his back.
“I understand, I love you too.” he said before pulling away.
She remained seated while he went back to his room where you’d been patiently waiting for his return. When he came around the door he saw you on the floor pulling a copy of the Temps “Masterpiece” out of his record collection.
“I was waiting for you before I changed the turntable, but I got impatient.” you said, putting the album in but not moving the needle. “What did your mom need?” you asked curiously, looking up.
He didn’t answer straight away. Instead he took the time to look over your face in a way he hadn’t before. The shape of your eyes, your nose, your lips, the clearness of your skin and texture of your hair. You really were a beautiful girl, a fact he knew on a surface level but never a deeper one. Not until now.
“Michael?”
“Huh,” he said, snapping out of the trance he’d momentarily slipped in.
“Your mom?” you reminded.
“Oh, right.” He shut the door and joined you on the floor. “It wasn’t anything important.” Before you could say anything else, he put the needle down on the record and asked what you liked about it once one of the tracks began playing; to quickly change the subject.
If you knew of his mother’s worries about Michael noticing too much of how pretty you were becoming, he’d never live it down. Especially since that exactly was happening.
──── ♡ I considered having the final bit with Michael and his mom be featured in the next part, but I figured it would fit better here. As a good “seed being planted” moment for his growing feelings for Reader. I think it was a good call to be honest lol. Thank you for reading!
pairing: post-off the wall!michael jackson x reader
summary: dating michael jackson is a dream, but dealing with his father is a nightmare. joseph thinks he can use your family's immense wealth to fund his own business deals. when joseph pushes michael too far at the family dinner table, you stand up, lash out, and use your family's power to bring joseph jackson to his knees.
warnings: j*e jackson, heavy family tension, shouting, verbal degradation (by joseph)
word count: 1.4k ~
a/n: i hate this but i needed something to post so here.
the morning sunlight poured through windows so tall they nearly touched the ceiling, casting golden streaks across polished marble floors. every room in the estate seemed larger than necessary, lined with paintings in ornate gold frames and grand sculptures. somewhere outside, the quiet hum of a chopper waiting beside a gleaming black car drifted through the open window.
none of it felt unusual anymore. growing up surrounded by wealth had made things like private staff, charity galas, and business dinners seem perfectly normal, comforting, and predictable.
unlike dating michael jackson.
michael himself was wonderful. he was sweet, thoughtful, endlessly kind, and able to make a terrible day disappear with a single smile. his father, however, was another story. you had lost count of how many times you had watched joseph jackson completely transform the second your parents entered a room.
the smile would appear first, too wide and too practiced. then came the voice, smooth as polished glass, saying, "mr. and mrs. ___, always a pleasure." every compliment sounded rehearsed, and every laugh arrived half a second too late as he asked about business ventures he clearly did not care about.
to an outsider, he looked like a perfect gentleman. but you knew better. the second your parents were not looking, the fake warmth completely vanished like a stage actor stepping off a set.
michael usually looked embarrassed whenever his father started performing, and the memory made your stomach twist as you descended the grand staircase. tonight was going to be completely different because your parents were not coming with you. there was no business dinner, no charity event, and absolutely no reason for joseph to wear his polite mask.
a car horn sounded softly outside, signaling that michael was waiting. you grabbed your coat and headed for the front door, trying to ignore the tight knot building in your chest.
as the sun began to sink below the horizon, the jackson house finally came into view. beside you, michael chatted happily about rehearsal, completely unaware of how tense your shoulders had become. you smiled and nodded when expected, but one terrifying thought repeated itself over and over.
for the first time, there would be nobody standing between you and joseph jackson.
the moment you and michael stepped through the front door of the jackson home, the difference was impossible to ignore. back at your family's estate, silence felt peaceful. here, it felt suffocating. the air seemed heavier somehow, as if every room was holding onto words nobody dared say aloud.
michael gave your hand a gentle squeeze as he led you inside, a silent attempt at reassurance. you squeezed back automatically, but it did little to settle your nerves. his own palm felt tense against yours, and that worried you more than anything.
by the time everyone gathered around the dining table, the uneasy feeling had only grown stronger. katherine offered warm smiles while the siblings spoke amongst themselves in quiet, careful voices that barely rose above a whisper. nobody seemed truly relaxed.
at the head of the table sat joseph, commanding the room without even trying. his presence hung over dinner like a storm cloud, and every conversation seemed to bend around him. no matter where you looked, your attention always found its way back to him.
the tension finally snapped when joseph steered the conversation toward michael's career. what started as casual discussion quickly turned sharp. he mentioned off the wall with a dismissive scoff, waving away the album's success as though it meant nothing.
"people act like it's some masterpiece," he said. "truth is, without the jackson name, nobody would've paid attention."
the room went still. joseph barely paused before continuing. he told michael that the album was nothing compared to what the family had accomplished together and that he was nothing without his brothers behind him. every word seemed designed to cut deeper than the last.
beside you, michael visibly folded into himself. his shoulders drew inward, and his gaze dropped to his plate. rather than responding, he quietly pushed food around with his fork, tracing small patterns across the plate without taking a bite.
he never looked up. never argued. never defended himself. he simply sat there and absorbed every cruel word in silence because he wanted to avoid a fight.
watching it made your stomach twist painfully. you knew how talented he was. you knew how hard he had worked for every ounce of success. yet while joseph tore him down, michael just stared at his plate and let it happen, and somehow that was the hardest part to watch.
joseph seemed to notice the silence settling over the table. his eyes swept across the room before landing directly on you. instantly, the sneer he had worn while tearing michael down disappeared. in its place came the expression you hated most: the polished businessman's smile.
it stretched too wide and never reached his eyes. he leaned forward slightly, folding his hands together as though the two of you were discussing a friendly favor instead of sitting through one of the most uncomfortable dinners imaginable. the sudden shift was so practiced it almost made your skin crawl.
"speaking of family," joseph said smoothly, turning his full attention toward you, "how's your father doing these days?"
his voice dripped with false warmth. before you could answer properly, he continued.
"now, you know i only want what's best for michael's career. and your daddy has the keys to make that happen. you scratch my back, i scratch yours."
the smile never faltered. it was the same smile he had worn at charity events, business parties, and every occasion where your parents had something he wanted. looking at him now, it was painfully obvious that michael's career wasn't the focus of this conversation at all.
joseph casually picked up his drink, as if he were discussing the weather. "i'm still waiting on that meeting about the new studio funding," he said. "your father keeps saying he'll get back to me."
his gaze sharpened despite the smile remaining firmly in place. "maybe you could put in a good word. he listens to you, doesn't he?"
the implication settled heavily over the table. joseph wasn't really asking. he was reminding you exactly what he expected. worse, he was doing it in front of everyone, using your relationship with michael as leverage.
the message was crystal clear: if you cared about michael, you would convince your parents to open their wallets. across the table, nobody spoke. not katherine. not the siblings. not even michael. the silence somehow made the threat feel even louder.
something inside you finally snapped. before you could second-guess yourself, both of your hands slammed down onto the dining table with a crack that echoed through the room.
silverware jumped. glasses rattled. several plates shifted against the tablecloth.
the sound was so sudden that everyone froze. you shoved your chair backward and rose to your full height, your pulse pounding in your ears. across the table, katherine looked stunned. the siblings had gone completely silent. even michael's head jerked up in surprise.
you locked eyes with joseph and refused to look away. the fake smile on his face suddenly seemed a lot smaller.
"don't you dare look at michael like he's just a paycheck," you said, your voice shaking with fury. "and don't look at me like a business deal. my parents wouldn't give you a single cent after how you treat your own son."
every word landed hard. years of swallowed frustration came pouring out at once. "you sit there talking about what's best for michael, but all you've done tonight is tear him down."
the room remained deathly quiet as you continued. "you're nothing but a bully who uses people for power. the second someone has money, connections, or influence, you suddenly become their best friend. the second they don't, you treat them like they don't matter."
joseph opened his mouth, but you cut him off before he could speak.
"and since you seem so concerned about that studio funding, here's an update." you pulled your gaze away for only a second before staring directly back at him. "i'm calling my father tonight. the deal is dead. completely dead."
the words hung over the table like thunder. "if my family is investing in anyone, it won't be someone who treats his own son like this."
for a long moment, joseph simply stared at you. the color drained from his face so quickly it was almost startling. his mouth opened slightly, then shut again. you could see the anger burning behind his eyes, see the urge to explode and remind everyone that he was the one in control.
but he couldn't. not this time.
the room was silent enough to hear a pin drop as the reality settled over him. your family wasn't just wealthy. they were connected. respected. influential. one phone call from you could undo months of negotiations and slam shut doors he hadn't even walked through yet.
for once, joseph had something to lose. his jaw tightened. his grip on his fork turned white.
then, swallowing whatever argument he wanted to throw at you, he lowered his gaze to his plate. the sight would have been satisfying if you weren't so angry.
you didn't wait for him to find his voice. instead, you reached down and grabbed michael's hand. his head snapped up immediately.
"come on," you said.
your voice was firm enough that there was no room for argument. michael blinked before slowly standing as you pulled him to his feet. around the table, nobody moved. katherine looked stunned. a few of the siblings were openly staring.
you didn't acknowledge any of them. with your hand wrapped around michael's, you turned and walked out.
out of the dining room. down the hallway. past the family photographs lining the walls. past the front door.
neither of you said a word until the house was behind you. the cool night air hit your face like a wave. for the first time all evening, you could breathe.
the two of you made it halfway to the car before michael stopped walking. his hand tightened around yours, and you turned around.
michael was staring at you. not saying anything. just staring.
the porch light cast a soft glow across his face, making the disbelief written there impossible to miss. a few seconds passed, then he shook his head. a short laugh escaped him, not because anything was funny, but because he genuinely didn't know what else to do.
"you really did that." his voice was quiet. almost incredulous.
you raised an eyebrow. "what, the yelling?"
"you told him the deal was dead." another disbelieving laugh slipped out. "at the dinner table."
"seemed like the appropriate place."
michael covered part of his face with his free hand, looking somewhere between horrified and impressed. "i thought you were gonna stop after the first sentence."
"i considered it."
"no, you didn't."
that finally pulled a small smile from you. michael dropped his hand and looked back at the house. the lights in the dining room were still glowing through the windows. then his gaze returned to you.
something in his expression softened. it wasn't dramatic or tearful, just quiet, like he was still trying to wrap his head around what had happened.
nobody usually challenged joseph. most people nodded along, stayed quiet, or looked away. you had done the exact opposite.
michael shook his head one last time. "i can't believe you said all that to his face."
despite everything, there was the faintest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "and now he's probably gonna spend the rest of the night talking about it."
"good."
that earned an actual laugh. it was small and brief, but real. and somehow, that felt better than any argument ever could.
pairing: thriller era!michael jackson x female!reader
summary: for two years, you and michael successfully hid your relationship from the world. then, katherine jackson walks into his bedroom.
warnings: secret relationship, sneaking around, getting caught, no smut
word count: 972
a/n: this is a quick little drabble i wanted to write while i work on my bigger stories! it wasn't meant to be so short, but i have so many ideas that most of them are going to end up being on the shorter side. i hope you enjoy!
you and michael had been going steady for a while.
if going steady meant sneaking around for nearly two years.
you had met through janet and had hit it off from there. at first, it was just group hangouts. somehow, you and michael had fallen for each other.
which leads you to now. you were waking up in his bed after a long night of intimacy.
the room was quiet and warm. soft morning light filtered through the heavy curtains. michael had quietly slipped out of bed just a few minutes ago.
from down the hall, you could hear him. he was humming a sweet melody while he grabbed a glass of water. it was a faint, comforting sound.
you smiled, rolling over into the space he had just left behind. the sheets were still warm. sinking deeper into the mattress, you pulled his thick, green blanket all the way up to your chin.
it smelled exactly like him. it was a mix of clean laundry soap and his familiar woodsy cologne.
for two years, you had been janet's friend in public. you had to hide every smile, every laugh, and every touch whenever the family was around. it was exhausting to love someone in the dark.
but lying here in the quiet safety of his bedroom, wrapped in his warmth, all the lying and hiding felt completely worth it. for just a little longer, you didn't have to be a secret. you could just breathe.
the peace didn't last long.
at first, it was just the sound of a door opening somewhere down the hall. you barely paid it any mind. you sank deeper beneath michael's blanket as you listened to the faint clink of a glass coming from the bathroom.
then a voice drifted through the hallway.
"michael?"
your eyes opened immediately. you knew that voice.
for two years, you had spent enough time around the jackson family to recognize katherine's voice anywhere. you had heard it a thousand times at family dinners, birthdays, holiday gatherings, and afternoons spent with janet.
your stomach dropped.
a second later, you heard the sound of footsteps moving down the hallway. they were quick and purposeful. they belonged to someone looking for something, or someone.
you pushed yourself up on your elbows, suddenly very awake.
michael's room wasn't tucked away in some private corner of the house. it was just another bedroom down the hall. and katherine, like any mother in her own home, had every right to walk wherever she pleased.
the footsteps grew louder. she was getting closer.
your eyes darted around the room as panic settled in. the closet was too far away. your clothes were scattered somewhere across the floor. there wasn't enough time to do anything except react.
the footsteps were getting closer with every passing second, moving steadily down the hallway toward michael's room.
without thinking, you dropped back onto the mattress. you grabbed michael's thick green blanket and pulled it completely over your head.
darkness swallowed you instantly. you curled into yourself beneath the covers, tucking your knees toward your chest and making yourself as small as possible.
the space beneath the blanket was warm and stuffy. it was filled with the familiar scent of his cologne and freshly washed sheets. normally it would have been comforting. now it only made you more aware of how trapped you were.
your heart pounded so hard against your ribs. it felt impossible for anyone else not to hear it. you squeezed your eyes shut and held your breath as the footsteps reached the bedroom door. every muscle in your body locked up.
all you could do was lie perfectly still beneath the blanket. you prayed that katherine would take one look at the figure buried under the covers and assume it was michael sleeping in late.
the bedroom door opened and your heart nearly stopped.
you could hear katherine's footsteps crossing the room. they grew louder with every step until they finally came to a stop beside the bed.
beneath the blanket, you curled in on yourself even tighter. you barely dared to breathe as you listened to her settle beside you.
"michael."
her voice was firm. it carried the familiar tone every jackson child knew well.
"you promised your brothers you'd be downstairs by ten. everybody's been waiting on you all morning, and i am not about to have this family sitting around because you decided to sleep half the day away."
you stayed perfectly still beneath the covers. the silence stretched on.
for one brief, hopeful moment, you thought she might give up and leave. instead, katherine sighed.
"michael joseph jackson." there was a warning in her voice now. "i know you're awake."
your pulse hammered against your ribs. every instinct screamed at you to move, to run, to do something, but there was nowhere to go.
the closet was still too far away. your clothes were still somewhere on the floor. all you could do was remain frozen beneath the blanket and pray she would walk away.
unfortunately, katherine jackson had never been known for walking away when one of her children was ignoring her.
"fine."
the word had barely left her mouth before the blanket was ripped away.
bright morning light flooded your vision. you blinked against the sudden brightness as cool air rushed over your skin. for one horrible second, the entire room seemed to freeze.
katherine stared down at you. you stared back.
the annoyance on her face vanished instantly. it was replaced by complete and utter shock. her eyes widened as recognition settled in, and the color drained from her face.
because she wasn't looking at michael.
she was looking at janet's close friend curled up in her son's bed.
summary: michael and the cute little mother and son duo finally talk again, and heartbreak only seems to make their hearts grow fonder
i’ve been trying to write this but they deserve a happy ending as a cute little family𑣲⋆
a few days after the event in downtown new york, the high had finally left both you and zain, leading to the normal life you both lived.
the tuesday afternoon wore on you, a rough day at work but a short shift meaning you could pick zain up from kindergarten and make a lovely meal for the both of you.
zain was sat in the living room, thoroughly invested in the star wars movie playing on one of the channels whilst you collected the dirty laundry scattered around the house.
you reached under the couch, pulling out one of zain’s socks he had probably kicked under there along with a piece of paper.
“zain, honey.. please stop abandoning your socks under the couch”
“mhm, sorry mama” he replied, focused more on the tv than you, his hands dipping into the small popcorn bag beside him.
walking back into the kitchen to put the machine on, you unfolded the note, seeing the familiar words that had kept you up at night. the note the security guard had slipped into your half closed palm with michael’s number on it.
folding it quickly and putting it on the counter, only one thought crossed your mind. you most definitely were not calling him.
later that night, after you had washed up, given zain a bath and read him a story to get him to sleep, you had ventured back into the kitchen.
you turned towards the glass cabinet, gripping the handle tight and opening it to grab a glass of water. when you turned, your attention quickly drifted to the note you had left on the counter.
placing the glass down, both hands picked the paper up like it was a precious or fragile item but instead it was the key to your future, even though you didn’t know that yet.
you glanced between the note and the landline phone that was sat in the corner of the room, the green light blinking to show you it was plugged in. biting your lip, you walked over to the phone, your slippers sticking slightly to the floor as you moved until your hand took the phone out of its holster and pressed the numbers in.
the phone rang, your fingernail tapping against the countertop as you waited. it felt like it had rang forever, but just as you had finally made up your mind to hang up, the ringing stopped and breathing echoed down the speaker.
“hello, who is this”
you paused, eyes widening as you realised this was for real. michael jackson had actually given you his number and this wasn’t some sick joke somebody had played on you.
“hello? is anyone there?” he questioned, sounding more confused then he did when he answered it.
“oh-erm… hi michael, the security guard gave me your number the other day.. you know, zain’s mother”
“oh, hi!” he suddenly sounded much more awake, “how are you? how’s zain?”
you twisted around with the phone still in your hand, moving to sit atop the counter.
“yeah im great, thank you for asking. zain’s doing good as well, he’s just asleep at the moment.. how are you?”
“oh i’m so pleased to hear that! i’m okay now that i’ve heard that” he said, shocking you as you had only met him once before this phone call.
“may i ask why you gave me your number? i mean i could be like a psycho fan that you’ve just given it to… i’m not! but like i’ve just been wondering”
he chuckled, letting the question linger before replying,
“i don’t really know.. i think maybe it’s just ‘cause zain really warmed my heart that day, and you may have also left a lasting impression too, mama”, sounding more shy as he continued.
you giggled lightly, a warm flush spreading across your face
“well i really appreciate that, michael, thank you… zain hasn’t been able to stop talking about meeting you, he keeps asking when he can see you again”
“zain is a lovely little boy and i would be delighted to meet him again if it would make his day.”
“careful” you laughed, “if he hears that, he’ll be asking every day”
michael’s laugh crackled down the phone,
“i don’t think i’d mind”
the words settled between you both, and you found yourself smiling at the kitchen tiles.
“well, i’m sure he would be happy to hear that”
“maybe we could meet again, maybe at a zoo.. or neverland!”
“neverland?” you repeated.
“yeah,” he said, “i’m pretty sure i can survive a park”
you couldn’t help but laugh, the conversation continuing as if you were catching up with someone you had known forever.
two days after the original phone call, both you and zain were in the kitchen eating ice cream, his little legs swinging below him”
as you were nodding, asking little questions about his day, the phone rang beside you, zain suddenly quieting down in curiosity.
“who is it, mama?” he asked, his voice getting slightly higher as he lent forward.
you shrugged, picking up the phone and pressing answer before lifting it to your ear, “hello?”
“hi! it’s michael, how are you doing?”
you turned to zain, still speaking to michael, “i’m doing good, someone’s here wondering who i’m talking to”
you giggled, watching zain’s eyebrows furrow in confusion
“oh, past the phone to him, i would love to say hi”
you pulled the phone away from your ear, holding it out to zain, “it’s michael”
“MICHAEL!?” he grabbed the phone quickly, pulling it to his ear
“michael? is that really you?”
“hi zain! yes it is me, how have you been?”
zain looked as though he had a little mini heart attack, his eyes widening and smile growing across his face.
“i’m good! i didn’t think i would be able to talk to you for, like.. EVER”
michael laughed, your ears picking it up from across the kitchen,
“well i’m glad to hear you soundin’ so happy! your mama told me that you’ve been non stop talking about our meeting the other day”
“mama! why did you tell himmm” he whined, “i guess so… i just missed you”
“hey, me and your mama have been talking, and how about we have a fun day together, and maybe you can even come to neverland!”
“neverland.. what’s that?”
“that’s my home! it’s got a cinema, a zoo, lots of candy, slushies, slides, everything.”
“a zoo?!? what animals have you got in your zoo?”
“well how about when you come, we can go and look at all of the animals together. i’ll give you a little hint, i have a giraffe”
“a giraffe! oh my goodness..”
you laughed, his little mispronunciation of giraffe sounding more like a ‘gifaffe’.
“only if you stay on your best behaviour, okay?” you bargained, eyebrows slightly raised to show you were completely serious.
zain gave you a big cheeky grin, his teeth showing and his head tilting to the side, “i’m always a good boy, mama!”
the next day, you had picked zain up from kindergarten. his eyes were glued to the window as he stayed unusually quiet.
“zain, are you okay, baby?” you asked, looking at him through the rear view mirror.
“yeah, mama…” he let out a loud sigh, his lip beginning to pout.
“hey, hey.. what’s the matter?”
his head dropped, tears beginning to fall and his shoulders shaking,
“a boy in my class said i was lying”, he said quietly, “he said i didn’t talk to mikey”
your hands tightened on the steering wheel, watching him quietly sob in the backseat.
“baby, we both know you spoke to him. so if he doesn’t believe you, then that’s on him, not on you because you aren’t a liar”
that night, after you had given zain a shower, you tucked him in, sitting beside him on the bed, the phone in your hand.
“zain, i have a little surprise for you for being such an amazing boy” you said, smiling slightly at him.
his hands rested on top of the covers, head tilted towards you as the moons from his nightlight scattered across his face.
you pressed a button on the phone, a voicemail being read out.
“hi zain, your mama told me about the boy in your class. listen, you are so amazing, and so kind, and so thoughtful, and me and your mama both know that you aren’t a liar, okay? soon we will have the funnest day ever, sleep tight, i love you”
zain’s eyes brightened, flicking between the phone and you. once michael’s voice had finished coming from the phone, zain let out a quiet squeal.
“i can’t believe it, mama! i can’t wait to go and see him again!”
your hands smoothed over his hair before brushing down the side of his face, trying to soothe him and relax him to go to sleep.
“i know, baby. very soon we will see him again, okay. now it’s bedtime, i love you so much, baby”
he let out a yawn, your finger working its way down his nose and back up.
“love you too, mama. night night”
his eyes drooped before shutting completely, his breathing evening out.
you stood, walking towards the door and closing it slightly, still leaving it cracked open.
very soon you both would be seeing michael, and you could not wait to see zain’s reaction.
𓍢ִ໋ otw!era micheal is obsessed with making you squirt.
mdni 18+
sometimes you wished you couldn’t squirt.
not because it didn’t feel good. god no. it felt like heaven cracking open inside you every single time. like your whole body turned into liquid heat, waves rushing down from deep in your belly, flooding out in hot, pulsing bursts that left you shaking and gasping and soaking everything.
like every nerve lit up at once and spilled over, messy and uncontrollable and so intense it almost hurt. like your pussy was surrendering completely.
it started off so innocently. at his family’s pool party.
“here baby, drink some water,” michael would say softly, refilling your glass again with a sweet smile. every time the ice got low he was right there, pouring more, pressing the cold cup into your hand.
“s’hot out. stay hydrated f’me.”
you should’ve known.
the way his eyes lingered too long when you came out of the pool, the way he shifted in his chair when your wet bikini clung to your curves. you should’ve known what he was really preparing you for.
𓇼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
this was now your second orgasm and he still hadn’t gotten what he wanted. the first two times you had cum hard, thighs shaking around his head, pussy fluttering and clenching on his tongue and fingers.
but you didn’t squirt.
not the way he needed. and each time he pulled back his eyes had that flash of disappointment, dark and hungry, before he buried his face again like he couldn’t stop.
by this point you’re heaving.
chest rising and falling fast, body slick with sweat, legs trembling uncontrollably. your voice is hoarse, words barely forming. you look down through half-lidded eyes and his face is a mess — lips swollen and shiny, chin dripping, curls sticking to his forehead. his pupils are blown wide, completely black, like he’s high out of his mind. as if he just finished doing lines. drunk off your pussy.
“please,” he whispered, voice cracked and desperate. his breath fans hot over your soaked folds.
“just one more. please baby. let me try one more time. one more time…”
you can’t even speak. your throat is raw. you just nod, weak and shaky, because what else can you do when he looks at you like that?
he whimpers in relief and dives back in.
his tongue is everywhere at once — messy, frantic, licking long stripes through your dripping folds before sucking your swollen clit between his lips.
he’s whimpering into you the whole time, pathetic little sounds vibrating right against your most sensitive spots. you can hear him grinding against the edge of the bed, hips rutting desperately, probably already came in his shorts like he always does when he gets like this. but he doesn’t care. he just needs this.
“is this good?” he mumbles against your pussy, voice muffled and broken. he sucks harder, tongue flicking fast. “am i doing good? tell me… please…”
“it’s… s’good mikey” you moan, the words cutting off into another gasp as he pushes two fingers deep inside you, curling them just right.
he moans loud at your answer, hips grinding harder against the bed.
“are you okay?”
he asks, almost frantic, like he’s terrified of doing it wrong even while he’s devouring you. his fingers pump faster, slick sounds filling the room as he laps noisily at your clit.
“yeah… yes, mikey— oh god—” you try to answer but it turns into a broken moan when he sucks particularly hard, cheeks hollowing. your pussy clenches around his fingers, fluttering wildly. you’re so wet it’s dripping down his wrist, down your ass, making a complete mess.
he’s panting into you, whimpering between licks.
“i need it… need you to do it for me… just one more time…”
his free hand grips your thigh hard, holding you open while he grinds his hips pathetically against the mattress.
you can feel how desperate he is, how lost he is in the taste and smell and heat of you. his tongue works faster, sloppy and eager, sucking and licking like he’ll die if he stops.
your walls flutter again, heavy liquid pressure building deeper and deeper. every flick of his tongue sends sparks shooting through you.
your clit throbs under his mouth. your legs won’t stop shaking. you’re on verge of hyperventilation, moaning, barely able to breathe as he keeps asking in that wrecked voice.
“will you do it for me please baby?”
you can only nod and moan, your eyes rolled back, hips twitching against his face. he’s so pathetic like this — face buried deep, whimpering, humping the bed, completely addicted — and it’s turning you on even more.
he laps at you like he’s trying to memorize every single fold, every twitch, every drop of wetness that keeps leaking out of you.
his fingers curl and thrust deep, hitting that spot over and over until your back arches hard off the bed, spine bowing as the pressure inside you swells bigger and heavier than before.
your thighs won’t stop shaking. they clamp around his head but he just pushes them wider, whimpering into your pussy like the suffocation is the best part. every flick of his tongue sends pleasure jolts that seep into every every part of your body.
your clit is swollen and throbbing under his mouth, so sensitive that every suck makes your hips jerk. you can feel how wet you are — dripping down his chin, down his wrist, soaking the sheets underneath you.
your fingers are tight in his curls, pulling him closer even as your body tries to twist away from the overwhelming feeling.
he moans loud against you, the vibration making your walls flutter hard around his fingers. “s’perfect” he mumbles, barely pulling back enough to speak. his voice is wrecked, desperate.
“you promise to do it right?”
“yes— yes, of course mikey for you—”
your words cut off into a long moan as he sucks harder on your clit, tongue flicking fast while his fingers pump quicker. your back arches even more, breasts pushing up toward the ceiling.
he’s grinding frantically against the edge of the bed now, hips rutting in short, pathetic thrusts. you can hear the little whimpers he’s making into your pussy, like he’s right on the edge himself.
his face is buried so deep you can barely see anything but his messy curls. he’s completely lost — pupils blown, cheeks flushed, chin dripping with you.
the pressure keeps building. deeper. heavier. your pussy clenches and flutters around his fingers, getting impossibly wetter. your legs are trembling violently. your breathing is just short, desperate gasps now.
“mikey— i think— i’m gonna—”
he doesn’t answer with words. he just moans louder and doubles down, sucking your clit hard while his fingers curl perfectly against that spot inside you.
it hits you like a wave crashing over your head.
a hot, powerful gush floods out of you, soaking his face, his neck, dripping down his chest in warm streams. your whole body convulses, back arched so high it almost hurts, thighs locked tight around his head as pulse after pulse of liquid spurts out of you.
the relief is overwhelming, mixed with sharp, blinding pleasure that makes you cry out loud. your pussy spasms wildly, walls fluttering and clenching as the orgasm drags on and on.
michael moans deep and broken against your gushing pussy, the vibrations making the orgasm even sharper for you, dragging it out longer.
he keeps licking through every pulse, tongue working desperately like he can’t bear to miss a single drop. his hips stutter hard against the bed and you hear him whimper loudly as he, well you assume, cums in his pants, grinding through his own orgasm while still buried between your legs. his moans vibrate right against your oversensitive clit, making you shake even harder.
when the last spasm finally fades you collapse back onto the bed, chest quivering, body limp and trembling. michael rested his soaked cheek on your thigh, breathing hard, face shiny and flushed.
his lips are plush and abused, swollen from how long he’s been devouring you. he looks more fucked out than you do his eyes glassy, pupils still blown wide, like he’s floating somewhere far away.
you’re barely able to breathe yourself, but you reach down with a shaky hand and gently pat his damp curls. he leans into your touch immediately, nuzzling his cheek against your thigh with a soft, content sound.
“are you…
you let out a breath.
okay, mikey?”
he looks up at you, like you’re the only thing in his world. his eyes are soft and full of worship even through the haze.
“i will be.. if you let me go one more time?”
‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.
a/n: hi sweeties ive been young and turnt and havent updated in a hot minute.. anyways ill be uploading more and i see ur reqs i swear im not ignoring them hopefully they’re finished soon, kisses!
ꨄ NOTES: hehe i had to write up this blurb so quick. this idea was so good my love!!
michael jackson masterlist ༻ navi
WEMBLEY STADIUM, 1988
maybe you shouldn’t be so impulsive.
it’s just you couldn’t help the way his music made you feel, how seductive his voice sounded. how you felt like he was stripping off all of your clothes with just the noises he made with his mouth.
you’ve been a fan of his for a long time, luckily grabbing a ticket for his concert in wembley stadium, and you’re absolutely going crazy right now.
all the fans are to be honest.
shouting, screaming, passing out. some of them are even throwing rings on the stage, asking him to marry them.
so you never even thought twice at what you were about to do. you knew that there was no way in hell he’d notice you. you are at the front of the crowd but there’s thousands of people surrounding you, doing silly things, so you didn’t think that when you raised your cropped shirt, flashing your tits and screaming “i want you to suck my tits michael!” that he’ll hear you.
not only did he hear you, but he saw you.
michael was performing his last song of the night ‘bad’. he was bouncing around the stage, singing and dancing, he even decided to come off stage and run down near where the audience were.
he saw you, right in front of the barriers with your shirt pulled up and your perfect tits bouncing around.
michael let’s out a shy chuckle into the mic, glancing away and running back on stage. he couldn’t help the warmth that settled deep into his stomach at the sight.
his fans are something else.
once his performance is done, the lights come on and he starts thanking his whole team, and the crowd as well for being so supportive. and that’s when he really sees your face in the bright light of the stadium. a pretty thing you are, still screaming your head off with no care in the world.
it’s only when michael gets lead off stage that he decides to whisper something to the security. “you see that girl in the audience who was right at the front and had the cherry shirt on, yeah her. bring her to my dressing room.”
If you had known coming to watch your boyfriend’s game would lead to this, then you seriously would’ve thought twice about coming.
You see, Sae really liked it when you went to his games, but he never asked you out loud – all he ever did was throw a (his) jersey your way or message you with the info about the match, like he was expecting you to already know what he wanted without him needing to say it – and it always worked. You always understood what he meant, and how important it was for him to have you in all the matches you were able to attend.
So, to have him actually ask you to come – with a very tight hug from behind while you cooked breakfast and a groggy “You coming, right Amor?” – you should’ve known something different from the normal was happening.
“And Itoshi Sae gets a red card! He’s expelled from the match!”
You wanted to disappear. To turn into smoke. Because how else were you supposed to react to your boyfriend and your ex fighting because of you in the middle of a game with sold out tickets?
“And it seems Bunny Iglesias, who Sae just punched in the face, just got one too! It’s an ‘El Classico’, ladies and gentlemen! Everybody is on the edge!”
The commentators were not helping your case. Of course, you knew Real Madrid x Barcelona was one of the most heated rivalries in Spanish football, but Bunny and Sae were making everything pretty damn worse!
You could clearly see Bunny looking at you in the stands and smirking, while Sae was being held back by his teammates every time your ex said anything. You couldn’t really hear what they were saying from your seat, but judging from Sae’s expression, it wasn’t really a polite or friendly conversation.
Thankfully, Sae was able to calm down – after lots of begging from Luna and his other teammates – and was already exiting the stadium. You quickly got up to meet him in the dressing room, only to stop when Bunny screamed your name. In that moment, all the eyes were on you – especially Bunny’s and Sae’s – but all you could feel was your own face burning up from the utter shame you were experiencing. Then, like the little prick he is, Bunny Iglesias lifted up his hand, put it near his ear in a telephone shape and mouthed “Call me.”
When Sae ran back towards the field and punched Bunny in the face again after what he said, you really wished you had never dated a football player.
authors note: i accidentally deleted my request, but oh well. i've never been asked to do messages before & im still learning !! ( if there are any typos please, lmk! these were made between 1-2am, as u can see )
୧੭ JERMAJESTY JACKSON X READER TEXTS ִֶָ🪽་༘
warnings: possessive!jermajesty a dash of implied smut cussing
a little while later....
about thirty minutes after maj’s text, you heard a knock at your front door. turning off the stove, you made your way to the door. you tried looking through the peephole but to your surprise—it was being covered.
only maj would do some shit like that.
you rolled your eyes as you irritably unlocked and opened the front door. jermajesty pushed past you, tugging on the door knob to your linen closet, peeking inside as if he were searching for somebody. “where the fuck he at?”
you slammed your front door with a confused look upon your face. locking the door, you turned to face him and paced in his direction, “who? what the fuck are you talking about, jermajesty?”
“you got other niggas sending you money ’n shit. he must be here.” he stated confidently. all you could do was stand there, look at him, and try not to laugh. “nobody is here except for us, maj.” your voice softened slightly.
“who sent you $500, though? forreal.”
“nobody, baby. i was only messing around.” your statement caused jermajesty to roll his eyes and try his very best to suppress the grin he so badly wanted to show. closing the gap between you, jermajesty pulled you into his chest as a distraction as he leaned down to kiss you.
the kisses trailed down to your jaw, lower, to your neck—then your chest. before you knew it, it’d been a few hours later now you and jermajesty were both naked in your bed. you turned over to see that his gaze was already on you.
wanting to piss him off you began, “can i get my $500 now?”
jermajesty huffed before hesucked his teeth as he turned his body to face the wall. “man, fuck outta here.”
part 2 coming soon! i hope you enjoyed ᳴ ᩚ𖾞
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