One day you wake up in a bed that isn't yours, in a house that obviously isn't yours. Your mind races through different scenarios until you cross the threshold and find yourself... face to face with your idol. Divided into his eras. "...Yes, indeed, I lost my mind."
N/A: I like to write silly things.
Tags: From OTW!Michael to Mature! Michael, humor, Fluffy, romantic, nothing explicit, Gags between Eras, collection of drabbles. GN!Reader btw.
҂˖ . ݁༉‧₊˚𖦹
This is not your bed. This is not your room. And it's definitely not your house.
You spring out of bed, jump out of the covers and look out the window; you're upstairs in some mansion. Obviously this isn't your home; you're a humble person with two a minimum wage jobs. It had to be a dream, a vivid one. The room, oddly enough, though not yours, contained some of your things. Confused, you walk to the door and open it...
You've just confirmed that you're dreaming. Or that you've lost your mind.
"...Me tienes que estar jodiendo."
Someone's definitely messing with you. You're seeing Michael... Michael, Michael, Michael, Michael and, oh, right, MICHAEL.
And so as not to confuse you, or the Reader, nor myself, let's call them by their eras.
Mature, OTW, Thriller, Bad, Dangerous and HIStory. You were speechless, staring at the scene before you. To be specific, this isn't your house, but it has many of your things. For example, all the objects from your living room are here. Your television, your furniture, your pets, your books, your Wii console, and your enormous Michael Jackson collection. Obviously. Along with the two life-size cardboard cutouts you have of Bad and the Thriller cover.
Amid the confusion, you also want to die of embarrassment.
"Check this out! It's really life-size!" Bad, laughing, stood up to his cardboard counterpart, trying to imitate the pose. He couldn't quite manage a serious face, though, and kept letting out giggles.
"Show-off, mine's hanging on the wall!" Thriller pouts, watching his cardboard version embedded in the wall serving almost as a shelf. "But I look goood~ Even if I'm a shelf!
"Oh, 'To Kill a Mockingbird'! I haven't read this in years," Mature murmured as he took the book from your shelf and settled comfortably into your armchair, beginning to read as if the place were his own.
"What could this be..." Otw was fascinated by the Wii console; he had managed to turn on the television and was now studying how to turn on the console.He managed to turn it on. He saw the home screen with the game menu and instinctively tilted his head. " 'Michael Jackson: The Experience' That's me! What experience? Is this a game about me?!"
"They made us another game?!" Bad exclaimed excitedly, now peeking at the television.
"Another?!"
"They has all the editions of Dangerous~ wow!" Dangerous, precisely, was in your record collection. You had every version of every Michael album, he smiled very proudly, his ego obviously inflated. "Awww! even has the albums I released separately before I started my solo career! How adorable!"
You want to die right there, honestly.
"All of this is bad for the body." HIStory was in the kitchen, not yours, but it had your things. He was in your refrigerator, doing a deep clean. Throwing away empty containers and, well, junk food too. He pull out a whole six-pack of Coke cans and you swear his indignant glare will haunt you for years. "There's not even any water! Just cold coffee. I'll make some juice."
"... Iré a lanzarme de algún balcón, con suerte y despierto."
"Oh look, they's awake!" Thriller drew their attention to you; you suddenly felt small. He approached, casually took your hand, and pulled you toward the television. "Can you tell us what that is? Please?"
Thriller obviously pointed to the console and the screen. You were now torn between Thriller, OTW, and Bad. You were nervous, your heart pounding. Because even though none of it was real, he was still your idol. And the way Thriller instinctively grabbed your shoulders didn't help; you felt like you were going to die at any moment.
"I-It's a game... A dance game," you mumbled when you remembered how to speak. You approached your console and took three controllers out of a box. You picked one up and selected the game. You can see the home screen and basically all the access "levels"
"I usually play with friends... I-I'm not very good, but it's fun. Do-Do you want to try?"
"Pfft! That would be so easy! I did all those dances!" Bad had a very boastful smile as he took one of the controls.
"Oh, it even have 'don't stop until you get enough'..." Otw seems to be smiling, very pleased with that. "I want to try that one!"
"The easiest one!" Thriller mocked, to which OTW stuck his tongue out at him.
"Okay, okay... I'll show you how to play." Nervous as you were, you grabbed a controller with sweaty hands and selected "Don't stop until get enough." Basically, you shows them how to move the controller, in a somewhat clumsy way. They laugh at you, but with affection, and you swear your face is burning. You hand over the control you have to Thriller and cover your face.
"Les dije que no se bailar, hijos de la chingada—" You murmured, "Good, you know what to do!"
"This is going to be easy!" Otw energetically stands up. "I did this choreography after all!"
You stayed back, watching. Even if the situation was bizarre; you were going to see MJ (his younger version) dance. You weren't going to miss it. And it was truly worth it, because you saw firsthand how Michael was deeply indignant that they were going to change some of the steps in his choreography. Frustrated, he tried to follow the new steps they introduced into the game. To make matters worse... He ended up giving it 3 stars. The poor guy looked so offended. He even took off his jacket and threw it away.
"This is insulting! Those aren't my steps! And what's with the three stars?!"
"...Move aside, I need to see what they did with Thriller."
Meanwhile, OTW stayed behind, arms crossed, licking his lips. You had to stifle a laugh, watching a scene similar to the one you experienced with OTW. Only, mid-dance, Thriller stopped, shaking his head and crossing his arms.
"No, no, no. Not my dance. Not my choreography, what is this?! Who let this out to the public?!" Oh, there was his perfectionist side talking.
"You two are such crybabies." Bad took one control. "It has some changes, but a good dancer knows how to work it out." Bad had a rather cocky smile as he selected one of his favorite tracks; Smooth Criminal. Thriller rolls his eyes as OTW tilts his head to the side.
"...This is going to be good"
You murmured with a stifled giggle. Well, we had to give Bad the benefit of the doubt. He really did dance until the end, although, well, his face and eyes showed some displeasure. Especially in some specific parts. When he finished, the game gave him four stars, and that's definitely what upset him. He shook his head repeatedly and snapped his fingers.
"No, no, no. This damn game isn't going to tell me I didn't do it perfectly. You two, come here, you're going to help me."
"My brother in Christ, if I do that bow I'll probably break my nose."
"Again."
"Stop whining and get in formation!"
You laugh as you watch the scene unfold before you. Your laughter fades when you feel someone take your waist. You shudder and notice Dangerous, behind you, hugging your waist as if nothing were wrong. You feel your knees tremble.
"Babydoll~ Can I steal you fa' a second?"
"Yeah?" you murmured, your voice trembling. He laughed and kissed your cheek before taking you to your bunny pen. You see Dangerous's eyes shining curiously, wondering what could be inside the little plastic house. Oh, you were too comfortable in his arms, besides appreciating his pretty face.
"What's in there, babydoll? Can you tell me?"
"A-ah, they're my bunnies!" You said shyly, making a sound with your tongue, and four rabbits—one white, one gray, one black, and one with tri-colored fur—came out. "The white One is "Talquito", the gray One is "Motita", The black One is "Panterita" y The last one is "Marquesa"... They are little shy."
"They're so cute!" he said with an excited sigh, looking at you with a sweet, pleading gaze. "Can I come in? Please, pretty please?"
"Okay, but they're a little shy so don't put too much pressure on them—"
"M'kay!"
You saw him take a seat inside the pen... And how quickly he was surrounded by your rabbits. It seems they timid nature vanished with Dangerous. He even took to "Motita" And hugged him close to his chest, giving little kisses to his nose between gentle giggles.
"Hey!" You straighten up, turn around and see HIStory, who was gesturing for you to come closer. "You're not getting away, c' here."
You approached fearfully, looking at HIStory, almost shrinking away from him. He looks at you intently, arms crossed, and you feel the same way you did when your father scolded you for messing up. HIStory points to your refrigerator, then to the trash can.
"Stale donuts, pasta that has its own fungal kingdom, and lots of soda! Seriously, you live like that?" HIStory approached, cupping your face in her hands. "And these dark circles... Oh dear, you need someone to take care of you!" He sighed, caressing your cheeks. You were blushing, speechless, your heart in your throat.
"I-I'm sorry..."
"Ah, don't apologize... It's hard to care of oneself sometimes isn't it?" HIStory smiled at you and you felt yourself melting right there. "I'm going to prepare something substantial for you, and you're going to eat everything."
"It's okay... Thank you"
"Don't thank me, babydoll~"
He kissed you on the forehead; you didn't know how you hadn't fainted until that moment. You walked to the living room, where Mature was. You slumped down, sitting across from him. You looked at him, and He continued reading intently from "To Kill a Mockingbird," his glasses on, giving him a more elegant and refined air. You suddenly felt shy again, but spoke in a timid and hesitant voice.
"Michael...?"
"Tell me, dear."
"Do you know what's going on here...? Because, well, why you guys are here?" You asked, tilting your head to the side. "You seem very calm... Do you know something?"
"Hmm, I don't really know anything. I'm just as confused as you are." He admits honestly, without looking up from his reading. "I'm sorry, I haven't the slightest idea."
"I understand..."
"Are you sure you don't know why we're here, baby?
"No... Well, I know what you think, well, that I'm a crazy fan. And maybe I am, a little." You admit, laughing sheepishly, "I haven't done anything different, other than love you and miss you."
"...Do you miss me?" He whispers, looking away from his book, and looks at you intently. He lowers the book gently, resting it on his legs.
"Are you kidding me? I miss you like crazy. I already said it... I love you."
"..."
Michael smiles at you. He closes the book, places it on the table, and takes off his glasses, putting them in the small pocket of his jacket. He extend his hand towards you and take it, caressing your knuckles. You feel your heart literally jumping out of your chest, staring intently at his face.
"I don't think you're crazy... I've seen crazy fans, You fit the passionate standard." He assure you with a sweet smile. "You have very curious taste in books, 'To Kill a Mockingbird', 'The Art of War', 'Pride and Prejudice', '100 años de soledad' and 'Amor en tiempos de cólera'" Michael lets out a little laugh. "Did I say that right? I'm not good at Spanish."
"It turned out perfectly... I also have Moonwalker. And I want to buy your 'bible,' but it's expensive."
"That thing?! It's huge! Where would you put it?!" he asks you, laughing, somewhat incredulous.
"I'll find the place! And like I said, I really love you."
"...Would you like to ask me something, sweetheart?"
"Ah..." You lower your gaze, feeling your cheeks burn. "Can I hug you?"
"Oh sweet thing, I thought you'd never ask."
Michael opens his arms without even hesitating, and you get up. He wraps his arms around you, one hand in your hair and the other rubbing your back. His cologne smelled so good, his body was so warm. It felt divine... You feel him kiss your cheek.
"If this is a dream... You should enjoy it to the fullest, baby~" he assure you, you pull away slightly to ask him what he means... But the question dies on your lips. Because he kisses you. You froze, for a second you forgot how to breathe while Michael kissed you. He took advantage of your shock to sit you on his lap. One hand stays on your thighs, caressing from the bottom up. The other firmly grasps your waist. You close your eyes, enjoying the kiss, hugging his neck.
You tasted his mouth. You felt his tongue. The way it moved with the calm and patience of someone his age, then pulled away with a mischievous smile. Looking at you with those eyes, Desire, longing, and love mingle in that dark gaze. It reminded you so much of a deer's eyes. But strangely enough, for someone who looks like prey, you're the one who feels cornered by a predator.
"W-Why..." you murmured, barely regaining the ability to speak.
"Why? Oh baby~ you have my records everywhere, my face everywhere, you can't look at me without trembling. Are you going to tell me you weren't thinking about kissing me?"
"Y-yes, I mean... Of course, but you didn't have to do it just for that!" You say sheepishly, sighing and resting your forehead against his. "...Thank you for that kiss, and yes, it felt just as I expected." You admit with a giggle. "Thank you for fulfilling a little dummy's Dream"
"You're not a silly~ oh... You're adorable. Too adorable for your own good," he assure you with a smile. You look at him with a puzzled look. "Babydoll... I'm not the only one here~ and I know myself better than anyone."
You react to what he says. Yes, you weren't there alone. You had five other versions of that man in that room. And as he himself says, "Nobody knows him as well as he knows himself." You turn around and notice that you were indeed the center of attention. Otw covered his eyes, but had a hole between his fingers so he could see through it. Thriller had a pout on his lips, arms crossed. Bad smiled in a way that sent chills down your spine, Dangerous was still holding one of your rabbits. But he looks at you in a way that makes you tremble from the inside out. HIStory looked at Mature almost defiantly, but when his gaze fell on you it softened and his smile made you blush. You managed to hide your face in the crook of Mature's neck and shoulder, hugging him tightly.
"Oh sweetness~ don't be shy. You're in good hands, my dear..."
Allow me to doubt.
"And remember~ ... I love you the most."
𐔌՞ ܸ.ˬ.ܸ՞𐦯 .°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
Sweet puppy love
You are trapped in this schizophrenic dream that may well have been created by your 17-year-old self. Now you're trapped in a situation like mice against six cats. And the first cat has you cornered. And of all of them, it's OTW!Michael. The shyest, the most embarrassed. The one who, after the kiss, couldn't look you in the eyes without turning crimson. But there he was, cornering you against a wall. Both hands on either side of your head and looking you in the eyes, this is not good for your poor heart. He looked into your eyes, his blushing cheeks still noticeable against his dark skin. He looks adorable, that's what you think. You can't speak because the ability to speak went on sabbatical a long time ago.
"...Did you really like me that a mach? Enough to let that old man kisses you?"
"Well... Well, yes? I think you're beautiful no matter what stage you're in."
"Do you think...?" Michael began hesitantly, embarrassment etched in his eyes. He moved closer to you, his face near yours. "Do you think I'm... beautiful? Are you sure? You're not playing games, are you?"
"Michael... You were always beautiful," you admit gently. "The most beautiful boy I've ever seen. Your smile is the most beautiful."
"Ahm..."
"Was that a—?"
He moved closer to you. He hugged you, burying his face in your neck, his nose catching your perfume. His trembling hands gripped your hips; it was a firm embrace. Michael closed his eyes, rubbing his lips and nose against your exposed skin, enjoying your warmth.
"I think you're beautiful..."
"Th-Thank you..."
"...I-I'm not like him, I wan't catcha ya off guard," he assured, pulling back slightly from your neck. "Can I... Can I kiss you?"
"...Please, yes."
It seems he waited his whole life for that kiss. He took your face in his hands and pressed my lips to yours. It was a very pure kiss, a chaste kiss. Just a brush of lips. Then it turned into several kisses, little pecks, while one of Michael's hands caressed your cheek and the other touched the base of your... With his thumb caressing that area of your neck in circles, the little pecks continue for a while, don't... He was embarrassed to go for a deeper kiss, and that's it. You rest your hands against his chest in a relaxed manner, enjoying every minute.
"Oh, mama... Ya are so wonderful. My stomach fills with butterflies when I see ya', I dan't wanna to let go af' ya, I wanna to hold ya forever~" You heard it against your mouth, between kisses, he held you tighter and you've been strong so far, but you're sure you're going to faint. So you clung to him, your knees giving way. He holds you, grips you firmly without hesitation. He pulls away from your lips to smile at you and look down at you, while keeping your body against his chest. He looks at you with such adoration and love, he was quite the little gentleman of the 70s. Very kind, very soft-spoken.
"Babydoll, it seems you're melting in my arms."
"I can't help it... I still don't understand how I haven't fainted. I guess I want to keep looking at your angelic face~ "
"...God forgive me, the temptation is very great and I am just a man" He said it suddenly, like a prayer, before kissing you again, now with more passion.
OTW! Michael loved the compliments that came from your mouth. He feels so special and loved, he won't let go of you for a long time. He's going to kiss you until your lips and his are pressed together. Swollen from so much kissing, from so much touching. And you know what? It doesn't bother you in the slightest.
"Stay away from that old man..." He whispered suddenly, pressing kisses to your cheek. "He's a threat."
"You're jealous of yourself, my love..."
"Yes. Because I know he's me..." He whispered, while caressing your neck. "I know how really threatening he is, babydoll."
┊ ♡ ﹒ byi : accidental creampie. pregnancy scare. inexperienced established couple. unsafe sex. peeing in front of your man. j*e jackson appearance.
Your legs were wrapped tightly around his waist, pulling him deeper with each thrust. The pleasure was all consuming for both of you, making it hard to think about anything else. Your body was completely focused on the sensations he was causing you—how could you be expected to think clearly when he was hitting that spot inside of you that made your legs shake and toes curl? You were drunk off his cock, plain and simple. Who knew getting fucked raw would be so good?
“Mikey.. Mikey~!” You whined, your arms hugging his neck real close to you as Michael’s breathing grew heavier. His movements are becoming less rhythmic and more desperate as he ruts into you, the headboard knocking gently against the wall with each thrust, a soft sound that seemed to fit rhythmically with the repeated slapping noises.
“Baby.. feels good..” Michael whimpered softly, “Wanna be in it—forever.” A high pitched sound that betrayed his desperation leaves his lips. “And ever..”
His hips angled upward instinctively, trying to push even deeper into you despite the physical limitations of the position. It was clear he was chasing an impossible depth, driven by primal urges in his boy brain. He loved the feeling of your pussy, he’s never known a feeling that gives him this much of a fucking high.
You start fucking him back, your orgasm building rapidly as your walls start to pulsate and swallow even more of his length. Your inner muscles tighten around him and you throw your head back, covering your mouth with a hand as waves of pleasure crashed over you. You were completely focused on your own release, your hips rolling upwards in perfect rhythm with his desperate thrusts.
“Nggh.. hah..” Michael’s hips are still against you.
The realization struck so suddenly that for a moment neither of you understood it. Michael had barely lifted his head from your shoulder when the color drained from his face. His entire body went rigid beneath your hands, the warmth between you evaporating as confusion gave way to horror. You watched the exact moment the math happened behind his eyes. One second he was smiling, breathless and dazed he always was after making you cum, and the next.. he was staring past you at absolutely nothing, his expression.. stricken.
The curtains billowed gently in the evening breeze.
“What is it, Mikey?” You asked quietly, sensing something was wrong despite coming down from your fucky headspace.
Michael swallowed as his gaze dropped to where he was sheathed inside of you, the tangled sheets gathered around your legs before lifting back to your face. The look in his eyes made your stomach sink—then you felt it pooling inside of you. For a few seconds he seemed unable to form words, before suddenly pulling out of you. His cock slipping free with a wet pop, a thin line of his cum and your juices stretched between his tip and your pussy, connecting the two with a delicate, glistening thread before it broke and dripped down onto the sheets below.
He dragged a hand down his face and let out a breath that sounded almost pained. “I..” His voice cracked so tried again. “I messed up..”
The silence that followed felt endless.
You sat upright and Michael moved too, retreating to the edge of the bed as though distance might somehow help him think. The sunset spilling through the window painted everything gold, casting long shadows across the room and turning the dust floating in the air into flecks of amber. Under different circumstances it would have been a perfect evening. Instead it felt absurdly cruel. The world outside was winding down into a peaceful sunset while the two of you sat here frozen in the middle of what felt like a disaster.
As you sat up, your gaze drifted downward and your breath hitched in your throat at the sight. Michael’s cum slowly dribbled out of your slit as the sunlight streaming through the window caught the liquid, making it glisten against your lips.
“Oh..” You say, still processing what you’re seeing.
Michael lowered his elbows to his knees and pressed both hands against his face. He looked impossibly young like this. Not a performer or a star. But a nervous twenty year old sitting in his childhood bedroom with absolutely no idea what to do. All he accidentally came inside his girlfriend.
“I thought I had more time,” He admitted into his palms. “Honestly, I really thought I did..” The confession was so sincere with no carelessness in his voice, only bewilderment. He genuinely could not understand how his confidence had failed him so spectacularly.
The truth of it wasn’t complicated, even if they both tried to dress it up. Neither of them were remotely sexually experienced in any real sense that would have given them confidence in what they were doing, nothing beyond fragments of hearsay and guesswork and the overconfidence you develop when you’re young and in love and convinced that wanting something badly enough counts as understanding it.
They had only recently become each other’s firsts, which made everything feel.. intensified? and urgent in a way neither of them really knew how to regulate yet; it had gone from tentative curiosity to something extremely addictive overnight the first time they decided it was time to have sex. It’s truly the closeness and euphoria of it all that makes you forget there are supposed to be rules, risks and consequences to sex because all you can think about is how good it feels to fuck.
So when you two rely on something like timing or instinct or the idea of “knowing when to stop,” it wasn’t because you actually knew how any of it worked. It was the fact that you were two people who had decided so foolishly that they were already grown enough to handle it. But in reality, you two were just learning each other too fast, caught in that blur where affection and desire all stack on top of each other neither of you are making smart decisions.
The problem was that neither of you actually knew anything. You knew fragments, half formed ideas passed along that no one bothered to verify with fact. Things told in bathrooms at parties, whispered in bedrooms at slumber parties, repeated by people who were only slightly less lost than you were. Friends. Cousins. Older girls who always sounded like they had access to some hidden manual everyone else missed. It all came packaged and wrapped with a pretty bow like it was the truth but none of it came with proof.
So now, when it matters and the stakes suddenly felt very real, all you actually had was hearsay dressed up as knowledge.
At Hayvenhurst, that realization settles into tension because when you visit, you’re constantly aware that you’re not alone even when nobody is in the room. It’s Sunday, which means the place isn’t so super busy, just dispersed because it’s a day of rest for the Jacksons and people move through their own little corners throughout the day. Somewhere deeper in the house there’s the low sound of a television on, probably one of his siblings watching something. A door opens and closes somewhere down the hall, followed by the soft rhythm of footsteps that don’t belong to either of you.
That’s why you’re both moving like this, a little careful about it as Michael leads you down the hallway in sweats and a wrinkled t shirt he pulled on too fast. His hair is a little messy as you follow a step behind him in an oversized shirt that hangs off your shoulders and cotton panties underneath, barefoot against the polished floor.
When you two reach the bathroom at the end of the hall, Michael pushes open the door to let you in first, his eyes flicking toward the hallway checking whether anyone is close enough to hear or see. There’s a faint sound of a drawer shutting maybe, or someone shifting in a chair—but nothing that suggests someone’s coming.
Inside, the bathroom is lit by the soft spill of light from the small bathroom window. He closes the door gently, careful not to let it click too loud.
You pull down your panties, the fabric sticky with the combined evidence of both your arousal and Michael’s release as you sat on the toilet seat. You can see the large wet spot clearly from here and you shift by spreading your thighs a bit, feeling a slow and steady leak.
Michael is sitting near the sink cabinet back against the door, elbows resting on his knees.
“’s supposed to work..” She says softly.
“Mhm?” He tilts his head a little. “You really think so?”
“Mhm.. well, I hope so..” She nods, chewing on her lip. “Your dad would kill me if I got pregnant..”
“I wouldn’t even let him near you, Tinker..” He huffs
After a couple seconds, you feel something warm in your bladder.
“Oh, Mikey.” She closes her thighs a bit. “Have to pee..”
“Go ahead,” he says immediately, soft about it like it’s not something she needs permission for—oh, he’s in love.
“Close your ears,” she whines. “’s embarrassing.”
He lets out a small, easy breath and turns his head away, obliging without hesitation. “I don’t mind, really.” He adds quieter this time.
He stays turned anyway, giving her space.
A few minutes pass in silence. She’s still sitting there, knees drawn together, staring at the floor while Michael remains nearby, quietly keeping her company.
Then she suddenly looks up. “What if I sneeze?”
Michael glances over. “Pardon?”
“What if I sneeze really hard?”
He frowns slightly. “Sneeze?”
“So your stuff comes out.” The answer is delivered with the complete sincerity of someone desperately trying to solve a problem. “My cousin told me about that!”
For a moment, he just looks at her. “You think you can sneeze it out?”
“I don’t know,” She admits. “Maybe, feels like there’s still some in there..”
The idea sounds strange, but neither of them knows enough to explain why. At this point they’re willing to consider almost anything.
Then she perks up slightly. “Black pepper.”
“What about black pepper, Tinkerbell?”
“It makes people sneeze.”
Michael thinks about it for all of two seconds. “Okay. I’ll go get some.” And before she can say another word, he’s already getting to his feet.
The house feels almost unnervingly normal compared to the panic upstairs. A television murmurs somewhere in the den. Somebody laughs from another room. A faint jingle of keys at the door.
He finds the little glass pepper shaker beside the stove and grabs it without hesitation, but the moment he turns toward the stairs, a voice stops him.
“What’re you doing, son?”
Michael nearly drops the shaker, slowly looking up to find Joe standing in the hallway, watching him with mild curiosity.
Michael just stares back then he looks at the pepper in his hand.
“(Name) needs it for her sinuses..”
Joe's eyes flick down to the shaker. “Black pepper.”
Michael swallows and nods, doing his best to appear casual. Unfortunately, casual has never been one of his stronger skills when it came to interacting with his father
“For her sinuses,” Joe repeats.
“That’s what she wanted..” Another pause.
Joe studies him for a moment longer, clearly aware that something about this interaction makes absolutely no sense.
But eventually he just shrugs.
“If you say so.”
Michael nods once then immediately heads for the stairs before another question can be asked.
His grip tightens around the pepper shaker as he takes the steps two at a time, relieved to have escaped the conversation. Explaining that he needed the pepper because his girlfriend was attempting to sneeze away a pregnancy scare would have been a considerably more difficult discussion.
summary: you and michael love thriller movies, but that doesn’t mean you’re immune to being frightened… or his relentless teasing.
content: fluff, suggestive (ish) near the end, but no smut.
“ ‘Cause I can thrill you more than any ghoul would ever dare try~ ”
word count: 2k+
a/n: I just rewatched the thriller mv/short film for the 100th time and I can’t stop thinking abt the lyrics (line above specifically🫣). I recommend rewatching it before reading this for just the general vibes loll. also mb for literally writing smth new when I have three other works to finish off- someone stop me.
The creature suddenly appeared on the big screen, causing everyone at the drive-in movies to jump in fear.
Everyone except for Michael, who was absolutely relishing in the thrill factor.
I instinctively held tighter onto his arm and hid away behind his shoulder, as tension built up in the film.
We were both lying on the bonnet of his red Mercedes-Benz, with blankets and pillows against the windscreen for extra comfort. The mid-summer sun had almost fully set behind us, and the crisp air twined with the smell of warm popcorn.
I heard him let out a breath of amusement as he glanced towards me.
“Baby, you’re missing the movie.”
“Oh no, I can still hear.” I assured, muffled against his candy-apple red jacket, causing him to chuckle quietly, while the audience let out another shriek from whatever was happening onscreen.
“I thought you liked thrillers?”
“I love thrillers!” I defended, still using him as a human shield from the horrors being projected.
Michael gave me a pointed look that I could sense instead of see.
“This is just how I enjoy them?”
“You’re scared.” He said, endearment written across his face. I lifted my head the slightest bit to peek at his expression, immediately returning to hiding away behind his shoulder once more. Not from fear this time, but fluster.
Since the early stages of our relationship, I always struggled with the intensity of his gaze. The way he looked at me with so much admiration.
His eyes were already so mesmerising; being filled with such love seemed all too much for me to remain calm.
Michael melted into his smile, dipping his head down towards me to whisper: “it’s too cute.”
And because he knew exactly what he was doing- and the reaction he would receive- he added, with a wicked grin: “you have to be careful, Y/n. I don’t think my heart could handle loving you anymore more.”
My brain almost short-circuited.
The way he said it. Too natural.
“You’re too cruel.” I accused, fighting the blush threatening to take over.
“What? Can’t I call my girlfriend cute?” He asked effusively.
“Just watch the damn movie, Michael.” I said, finally returning his gaze in insincere frustration.
That caused him to laugh derisively, seemingly pleased with just how much he affected me. But he did as I instructed and looked back towards the screen with a humoured shake of his head.
It didn’t take long for me to return to clutching onto his arm like a lifeline. However, I didn’t miss the way his expression grew incredibly smug, most likely from how I relied on him for ‘protection’ from the terrors onscreen. Yet I was unable to let go.
If I was being honest, I loved it. I loved how he was someone I could depend on when I was frightened or absolutely anything else. How he always understood me so well; enough to know what I needed without me having to even say a word.
Then, there was a scene where the protagonist, Cary Elwes- one of Hollywood’s heartthrobs, was shirtless and breathless from being chased by a monster.
My girlfriends, who were led on a picnic blanket and the fresh grass near the front, cheered and one even feigned a swoon from the close up of him, causing me to let out a breath of amusement.
Michael didn’t share the sentiment. He looked to the actor onscreen- as if he had personally offended him- then to me to gauge my reaction, with a smidge of jealousy tingling through him.
Because I could practically feel his eyes on me, I laughed lightly to myself and rested my head against his shoulder. Wordless reassurance that he didn’t need, but I wanted to give anyway.
He tried and failed to resist the smile creeping onto his face and the hint of red dusting his cheekbones. As if wanting to further close the distance, he moved his arm from between us to wrap around my waist. Quiet possessiveness. It was nothing new, and yet sparks of heat still flourished from the contact.
My girls at the front turned back to look at me, cheesing and gushing as they did. One of my particularly close friends hit another girl’s arm and most likely said something about how unfair it was that we were just so ‘stinking adorable together’.
“This was the real reason you wanted to watch a horror movie, wasn’t it?” I said to Michael as if I had caught him out on a secret.
“You told me how much you love thrillers!” He defended innocently, before conceding from the unconvinced look I gave him. “Okay. But was it also an amazing excuse to hold you close?”
I raised my brows, awaiting.
“Absolutely.” He grinned and tilted my jaw up to kiss me. I felt his smile against my lips, almost melting like honey from his touch alone. The way he moved was slow and reverent. Savouring the moment.
Sudden cheers told us both that we had an audience. We broke apart and he really couldn’t contain his smile, as I blushed.
“Get a room!” Marlon jeered from the car beside us.
The drive-in theatre was booked and filled only with our close friends and siblings, so no one was disturbed from our chatter throughout the movie.
“Marlon, you’re just jealous that they’re smitten and you’re alone.” My friend countered, causing a round of laughter.
Michael’s hand trailed along my waist, intending to soothe my embarrassment, but having the opposite effect. He knew it too, and couldn’t have looked more pleased with himself.
“Yeah? You wanna do something to change that?” He shot back at her, leaning back against on his arms in an attempt to look nonchalant. My friend instantly blushed, completely stunned, as our friends hollered at the two of them.
“In your dreams.” She denied, setting everyone off again, with many comments of how unconvinced everyone was.
Jermaine clapped Marlon’s shoulder, probably asking if he was going to ‘just take that’.
“Guys, I’m trying to watch the movie!” Another friend interjected, encouraging the others to groan and throw popcorn towards him in jest.
Me and Michael were hunched over in hysterics at our friends’ antics. This wasn’t the quiet date night we had planned originally, but it was so much better. We had our personal moments to ourselves, and ones shared with everyone we cared about. A perfect blend.
As the movie came to an end, the credit scene was accompanied by one of Michael’s songs, setting our friends off again, now chanting his name. By then, the sun had fully set, bringing out a full moon bright enough to overpower the yellow hues from the lanterns hung.
I softly kissed his cheek, filled with pride for him and shamelessly leaving a trace of lipgloss. All that effort and talent; he really deserved all the glory that came with it.
His shy laugh after was so mellifluous, so endearing, as crimson shaded his face. I loved this side of him as much as his confident and debonair side, that was becoming more prominent the longer we were together.
It truly was a gift being one of the few to know him beyond the spotlight and glamour.
“Oh, Michael’s completely gone.” Jermaine pointed out, noticing the blush on his cheeks.
“Shut up.” He rolled his eyes humorously.
“What’s that on your cheek?” Marlon teased and the others hooted. There really never was a dull moment when all our friends were together.
“Courtesy of my lady.” Michael showed off proudly and I laughed.
“You’re both so in love it makes me sick.”
“Aw, stop it Marlon. You’re making them get all flustered.” My friend cooed, absolutely not helping the situation.
“Just look at them.” Our friends all gushed.
Me and Michael weren’t doing well with all the excessive attention focused on how much we adored the other, with me hiding behind my hands in humiliation and Michael scoffing in amusement and looking away.
“You guys are too much,” he laughed, sliding down from his car bonnet and holding his hand out to help me down too. He then addressed directly to me: “come on, let’s leave them to it.”
All at once, everyone yelled out complaints.
“Heyyy, don’t be like that.”
“We were just joking.”
“No stay!”
I quickly hugged my girls, saying goodnight, as Michael tidied the blankets and pillows away into the backseat his car.
“He clearly just wants to be alone with Y/n.” Jermaine leered, as Michael reached out for my hand as if being apart was physically taxing.
“Couldn’t you tell before?” He asked satirically, before turning around to rush off with me, laughing as we did, before anyone could make another comment.
⋆｡° ☾ ݁˖ ݁𖥔 .
“You two lovebirds have a nice evening.” The old ice cream man, whom we both recognised well from our frequent visits, said with a pointed look.
“Have a nice night.” I responded with a laugh, as Michael paid for a double portion size tub of ice cream to share between us: a scoop of salted caramel for me and vanilla and chocolate for him. Just like always.
As we walked through the empty streets, soft lights lit up the path, along with the glowing moonlight. So serene, and yet the chill from the movie still stayed with me.
A rustle behind us had me snapping around. Michael noticed immediately and chuckled, swinging his arm around my shoulders in comfort.
“It was only a movie.” He tilted his head knowingly.
“And it did a great job frightening everyone half dead,” I retorted and pointed my wooden spoon towards him. “Just don’t blame me if I call you at midnight for the two weeks scared out of my mind.”
“Maybe that was my goal all along. My mastermind plan.” He mused, taking the spoon off me for himself before I could take a bite.
“You’re such an idiot.”
“You love it.” He grinned and I didn’t deny it.
A beat passed, then-
“What was that?” Michael suddenly turned to look behind us.
“Michael?” I still had a smile on my face, but concern slowly replaced it.
“There’s something out there.” His eyes fixed on the only area void of light, completely engulfed in darkness.
“Very believable.” I acknowledged satirically.
“No, look.” He said, and -because my curiosity got the better of me- I stepped right in front of him to see from his line of sight. Right into that dim corner full of shadows.
My brows furrowed together, trying to distinguish the shapes.
Then, a pair of strong arms wrapped around my waist from behind and lifted me up, as I let out a shriek of pure fear.
And immediately after, Michael’s hysterical laughter rang right next to my ear, echoing through the cool air.
I let out a sigh mixed with relief and annoyance. He held me tighter, soft curls brushing my cheek, still finding humour in the situation.
“So not funny.” I said and playfully pushed him away.
Clapped his hands together and faced away from me, as if to say ‘priceless’, to which I rolled my eyes at. And just to top it off, he took the ice cream off me, as if it were a victory prize.
“You’re too cute not to tease.” He smiled, nudging my shoulder to close the distance again.
“Well, I’m not falling for it again.”
“Okay.” He held his hands up in defeat.
“But you know this time of night is the most dangerous, right?”
“Is that so?” I played along just to entertain him.
“Oh, yeah. Ghosts and monsters lurking about- watching our every move,” Michael trailed his fingers down my spine to create a chill. I brushed him off with a laugh. “I guess we have to stay close.”
His arm returned to around my shoulder: warm and comforting.
Suddenly, tentative water droplets fell against the pavement and against my skin, cooling the summer night air.
“Let’s get back to the car.” I said, as the rain slowly increased in fervour.
It didn’t take long for it to quite literally pour it down, and we both began to run back to his car, laughing foolishly all the while. He took off his red leather jacket to shield me from the rain, with his bare arms generating heat against the chill in the air.
His Mercedes-Benz drew closer into view and he opened the door for me to get in first. All our friends had cleared the area by then and had probably returned home. Michael got into the driver’s side, with an exhale of relief. Safe from the weather.
I couldn’t help but admire the sight in front of me: him now in his white shirt- tight in areas damp from the rain, curls clinging to his forehead, and the moonlight illuminating his features in the most flattering way possible.
“You alright?” His brows creased from the way I stared at him for longer than necessary. A lock of hair fell before his eyes, as he dipped his head in concern.
Devastatingly. Attractive.
I hummed in response, letting a slow smile appear.
He understood at once.
“Oh.”
And because he was cruel, he leaned over, teasing by lingering just near enough to my lips, then abruptly moved to pull the seatbelt over me, letting my eyes trace his jawline. The cold impact of distance was instant when he returned to the driver’s side.
“Let’s get you home, yeah?” He said, as if completely unaware of the effect he had, and started the car.
⋆｡° ☾ ݁˖ ݁𖥔 .
The drive was accompanied by symphonies of heavy rainfall and neon city lights.
Conversation flowed naturally again, as we shared ideas about the thriller we watched, other movies in general, and more.
But my focus briefly drifted to the way his hand gripped the gear stick. He had really nice hands.
Michael must have notice the sudden silence, because he glanced over at me and followed my gaze, letting out a breath of amusement after.
“Shut up.”
“I didn’t say anything.” He defended with a grin that said everything.
Michael parked his car as we arrived at my place all too quickly. Despite being with him all day, I still craved his presence. That was something that never changed for either of us no matter how long we’d been together.
Then, there was the other reason I didn’t want to be alone-
THOOM
The thunder struck hard in the distance, causing my breath to hitch considering how on edge I’d been since watching the film.
“You’re still scared.” He acknowledged, full of affection.
“And you weren’t even the slightest bit during the movie?” I asked despite knowing the answer.
Michael smiled and shook his head. His eyes flickering over my features. Such a deep shade of honey brown. Holding so much emotion.
I loved the way he was so cavalier. Towards fear. Towards other girls. Towards anything, but me; like he believed the world was truly ours to just enjoy.
And sometimes nothing else mattered.
A flash of lightning highlighted the side of his face, followed closely by another crackle of thunder.
“Will you stay the night?”
The words slipped out before I could second guess myself.
Michael raised his brows, almost incredulously, but very pleased.
“Aren’t you scared?”
Another strike from the storm.
It somehow emphasised the silent tension increasing between us: hot and heavy. Lingering in the air.
“I know you’d protect me from any monster, serial killer, or ghoul lurking in the shadows.” I said sarcastically, easing the atmosphere.
“Protect you?” His eyes darkened at that, like it was exactly what he wanted to hear. “Baby, I’ll thrill you more than any ghoul would ever dare try.”
michael’s curiousness about belly button piercings gets him some pussy.
18+ sexually explicit content, age gap ( reader is 25 michael is 40) spit play, no protection, foul language, oral sex ( f!m receiving) and bunch of other shit 🙏🏾.
inspired by this viral tweet. don’t be mean to me writing smut is lowkey hard 😔✌🏾.
you stood in the sweltering crowd, your neck glistened with drops of perspiration, a testament to the hours you had spent waiting in line. the anticipation was almost unbearable as you waited for your turn to meet the legendary michael jackson and have him sign your prized copy of his new album, invincible. you couldn't believe you were actually here, about to meet the one and only king of pop, the greatest entertainer of all time. your heart raced with excitement as you watched five people ahead of you, trying to stay calm despite the overwhelming emotions coursing through you.
“ i can't fucking believe this,” you whispered excitedly to yourself, your cd clutched tightly to your chest. as the last person ahead of you went, your heart raced as you realized it was finally your turn.
“next up,” the security guard called out, and you felt your stomach drop as you tried to remain calm and collected. there he was, sitting right in front of you - the man you had admired from afar for so long. "hi! what's your name?" michael asked casually, as he signed the cd you had placed in front of him.
"i-i'm y/n," you stammered nervously, unable to believe that this was really happening.
"what a beautiful name," he remarked, looking up at you and pausing for a moment.
"what's that?" he asked, pointing to the dangling piece of metal hanging from your navel. "oh, ugh, it's a belly button piercing," you explained, feeling a blush rise to your cheeks.
"wow, well how does it work? can i see?" michael inquired, a genuine curiosity in his voice. you walked closer to the table, lifting your crop top slightly to expose your stomach and give him a better view.
the piercing glinted under the bright lights, a small but noticeable addition to your appearance. it was a birthday gift to yourself, a bold move to mark your 25th year of life. as he looked at it, his curious eyes flickered up to meet yours.
"does it hurt?" he asked, his gaze lingering on the piercing. you couldn't help but let out a small giggle.
"not anymore. i got it done months ago for my birthday," you replied, a sense of pride in your voice.
"ah, well happy belated," he commented, and you smiled, thanking him for the kind words. this was your chance, your one shot at getting a hug from the legendary michael jackson. you had just had a conversation with him, and he had noticed your piercing. you might as well take a chance, right? just as you lifted your arms to ask, his security stepped in, ready to whisk you away.
but then, something miraculous happened. michael stopped them, a warm smile on his face. "yes, of course you can get a hug," he said, getting up from his seat and walking around the table to greet you.
your heart was racing as his arms enveloped you, pulling you in for a long and sensual hug. his hands gently caressed your back, and you couldn't help but take in his intoxicating scent. in that moment, you wanted to pass out in his arms, but you knew you had to hold it together and not embarrass yourself. this was a moment you would never forget, a dream come true.
security soon intervened and your embrace with michael came to an abrupt halt. with a heavy heart, you bid him farewell and tried to hold back the tears welling up in your eyes.
as you were escorted away, you caught a glimpse of michael gazing at you, his lips moving in a whisper to his security. though you didn't think much of it at the time, as you were about to exit the bustling building, you suddenly heard security calling after you.
your heart skipped a beat as you were momentarily frightened, but soon realized they were simply relaying a message from michael. "excuse me, ma'am," they called out, "mr. jackson has requested if you have a telephone. he would like to have your number." you were taken aback and at a loss for words.
"um, yes, of course," you managed to reply, quickly reciting your number as the security guard jotted it down.
you were in utter disbelief. meeting your idol and getting to hug him was already a dream come true. but now, finding out that he wanted your phone number? it was like a fairytale unfolding right before your eyes. you took the train home that evening, your mind was buzzing with the possibility of receiving a call from michael himself. you couldn't help but share your experience with your friends, but you kept the part about the phone number to yourself, savoring the secret like a delicious treat.
weeks passed and life went on, until one day while tidying up your house, a familiar ringtone echoed through the room. your heart rate spiked a bit, not expecting any calls at the moment. you hesitantly pressed the phone to your ear. "hello?" you answered, trying to keep your voice steady.
"hi y/n, this is michael," came the familiar voice on the other end of the line. you couldn't believe it. your phone slipped from your grasp, and you stood frozen and dumbfounded. "no fucking way," you breathed out, hardly able to contain your excitement.
as you slowly came back to reality, you frantically reached for your phone that had fallen to the floor. "hello? hello? y/n, are you still there?" michael's voice sounded confused on the other end.
"i'm so sorry, yes, i'm still here!" you replied, trying to catch your breath. "wow, i wasn't expecting a call from you."
michael chuckled, "yeah, i do apologize for not calling sooner. i've been very busy this week, but you've been on my mind."
"no, you're fine. i'm glad you're calling now. i just still can't believe it's you," you said, pacing the floor in disbelief.
michael laughed, "yeah, well, i was just calling because... well, i think you're very pretty. and i'm performing at madison square garden, and i'd love to see you after the show."
your entire being was filled with excitement, bubbling up inside of you like a volcano ready to erupt. but you had to keep your composure, at least until he was off the phone. you couldn't reveal how ecstatic you were to hear his words. "yes, yes, i'd love to come out and support you, michael." your voice was calm and collected, but inside, everything in you wanted to scream and run laps around the room.
"good, i'd really love to see you again. maybe we can talk some more or do whatever you like." his words sent your heart soaring, and you did a silent open mouth cheer.
with plans set, you both agreed to meet after the show and hung up the phone. as soon as the call ended, you let out a loud squeal, jumping up and down and dancing in pure joy. michael thinks you’re pretty and he wants to see you. how lucky.
it was the night of the highly anticipated show, and you arrived dressed to impress. your hair styled in a wash and go set, your turquoise ja'dior crop top and low rise jeans on, you looked and felt your best. the show was nothing short of spectacular, with surprise appearances from legends like whitney houston, usher, destiny's child, mya, luther vandross and many more, all gathered to honor to michael jackson. the highlight of the night was when michael and his brothers took the stage for a nostalgic performance, and ending with chris tucker joining in on the fun for his latest song “you rock my world”. as the show ended, you couldn't contain your excitement to meet michael and commend him on his stellar performance.
his security led you to his dressing room, where he greeted you with a smile, a towel draped over his shoulders and orange juice in hand. with a nod, he instructed his security to leave the two of you alone. "michael, oh my god, you were incredible! the show was perfection," you gushed, wrapping your arms around him in a hug.
"do you really mean that?" he asked, a bashful smile across his face.
“1000% everything was amazing.” you raved, a smile spreading across your face as you pulled away from his embrace.
“i’m really glad you enjoyed the show, you look very beautiful tonight.” he complimented as he gestured to your appearance. your cheeks warmed as you looked down, suddenly shy and blushing. you thanked him for his kind words, and he continued to praise you. "i truly mean it, your skin, your hair, you are truly stunning," he said, his eyes fixed on you as if he couldn't believe his luck. if you could melt into a puddle, you would have at that moment. "you're quite handsome yourself," you replied, returning the compliment and causing him to get shy in return.
you too sat together on the couch in his dressing room, the conversation flowing effortlessly. you were both learning more about each other, learning things about him that weren't already in the press. it was refreshing to have a genuine connection with him, and you couldn't believe your luck that you were actually having a conversation with him. pinching yourself wouldn't even be enough to make you believe it was real.
“i see you've changed your jewelry,” he remarked, his gaze dropping to your belly piercing. you couldn't help but giggle at his reaction, looking down at the small glinting gem peeking out from your shirt. “yeah, i wanted to switch things up.”
his eyes lingered on the piercing, a look of confusion mixed with intrigue on his face. “i like it, it's very sexy on you,” he said, still trying to understand it. “but i'm still a bit confused about it. can you explain it to me more?”
feeling a bit shy, you laughed and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “thank you, and um, well, it's not as complicated as it may seem. they just use a long needle to puncture your skin and then attach a bar to it. then they pull the needle through and add the jewelry, and voila, you're done.”
"hmm," he mused, his fingers lightly hovering the piercing. "can i touch it?"
you hesitated for a moment, feeling a slight thrill run through you at the thought of his hands on your body. "sure, go ahead," you finally said, lifting your shirt to give him better access.
his hand gently touched your navel, lifting the jewelry up in his fingers. despite his innocent tone, the gesture felt wildly intimate, sending a shiver down your spine and making the space between your thighs tingle.
"wow, this is truly something," he exclaimed, marveling at the intricate design of the jewelry with his fingers. "i can only imagine how much your boyfriend must love this," he half-joked.
"i don't have a boyfriend," you corrected, "this is just a little something i treated myself to for turning 25."
"even better," he replied, looking back up at you with a sly grin. the energy in the room shifted, becoming charged with a palpable tension. your body heated up at the feeling of his hands, now gently tracing along your navel. it seemed as though he was testing the limits, but you were more than willing to let him explore wherever he pleased. your clit twitched in anticipation, aching for his touch.
"you know, you’re not fooling me," you stated boldly, catching on to his little act. "you don't have to act curious just to touch me." a playful smile tugged at the corners of your lips as you spoke. "i mean, i would have let you anyway."
michael chuckled and bit his lip, his eyes flickering up to meet yours. "and where would you let me touch you?" his hand slid down your stomach during his statement, stopping at the waistband of your low rise jeans.
the arousal pooling between your legs grew more prominent with each passing moment, causing your lip to catch between your teeth as you took a deep breath. the surreal reality of the situation was almost too much for you to bear. “wherever you want to touch me.” you breathed giving him leadway.
his finger slipped through the belt loop of your jeans, drawing you closer with a gentle tug. In a matter of seconds, you found your faces inches away from each other, no space left between y’all. your lips hovered, almost teasingly, before finally melding together in a sensual and passionate kiss. as his hands roamed over your waist, you couldn't help but melt into his touch, your arms instinctively crossing over his shoulders.
he gently laid you back onto the couch, his body nimbly evading the space between your legs. his hands went up your shirt, exploring the expanse of your skin before you lifted your arms to help him remove your top. the discarded garment landing haphazardly across the room. he broke the kiss his soft lips leaving a trail of kisses from the corner of your mouth, down to your neck, and finally resting on the swell of your breast. "you're gorgeous, absolutely perfect," he murmured, his words laced with admiration. his kisses continued their journey, trailing from your breast to your stomach, and finally lingering on your navel. his tongue playfully danced around your piercing, before leaving a kiss there. "oh michael," you whimpered the feeling new but surprisingly felt good.
finally, he played with the button of your jeans, unbuttoning and unzipping to reveal the sight of your lacy panties. he slowly rolled down your denim, exposing your damp underwear in a long, teasing strip. the wetness from your arousal leaving a glistening trail on your inner thigh as you were now fully exposed.
you kicked the fabric off your ankles, another piece of clothing discarded in your growing desire.
"she’s so precious," he murmured, his eyes drinking in the sight of your glistening folds. "you're so pretty, and so wet for me, hmm?" with two fingers, he gently circled your sensitive clit, eliciting a silent gasp from your lips.
"oh god, so fucking wet for you," you moaned, your breath hitching as his fingers stirred around your pussy, creating a deliciously squelchy sound.
"can i taste you? pretty please," he asked, placing your legs over his shoulder while kissing and licking your inner thighs. you looked down at him, your eyes filled with desire. did he even have to ask? without hesitation, you quickly said yes, your body aching for him to finally kiss where you wanted him to. he held back from licking your clit, instead opting to suck on it gently. the steady suction made your toes curl and your fingers fist into his dark wavy hair.
michael hummed contentedly as your hands gently tugged at his hair, his eyes fluttering shut in bliss as if he were savoring something divine. he stayed there for long, lazy minutes, just sucking on your clit with a slow and gentle motion, like it was the most delicious jolly rancher. every so often, he'd add a soft swirl of his tongue, but always returned to that perfect, mind-melting suction. as your back arched off the couch and your eyes rolled back, you moaned, feeling that familiar, visceral sensation building in your gut.
"oh michael, please baby, i'm gonna cum," you pleaded, unable to contain the pleasure any longer.
"cum for me, pretty girl. god, you taste so sweet," he groaned, his muffled voice sending shivers down your spine. your thighs shook and your hips bucked as he devoured you like a delicious ice cream cone, your essence melting all over his lips. "fuck, baby, i'm cumming," you cried out, gripping the back of his head as you reached your peak.
his hunger still not satisfied he continued to ravish you through your orgasm. in fact, he sucked harder, his large hand pressing against your stomach to keep you in place as your body tried to squirm away from the intense pleasure. "baby, please-" you whimpered and pleaded, but it was evident that he would not stop until he had his fill. tears welled in your eyes from the overwhelming stimulation.
incoherent pleas escaped your lip, your body quivering uncontrollably. michael's hand gently caressed your stomach, while your own hand gripped his tightly. the lewd, wet sounds of his mouth on your pussy and his soft moans as he rubbed his evident hard-on against the couch filled the air, showing just how much he was also enjoying this. as your climax overtook you, a choked squeal escaped your lips and your eyes rolled back in your head, so far it felt like you saw your brain.
"please, daddy, no more," you begged, your hand pushing against his head. he just looked up at you and smiled, his lips glistening with your juices as he began to lick them off.
exhausted and flushed, you sank into the soft cushions of the couch armrest, trying to catch your breath and collect your thoughts. your body was still tingling with the intense sensations that had just overwhelmed you. michael crawled up your body, hovering above you and gently gripped your chin, silently instructing you to open your mouth. without hesitation, you eagerly complied, extending your tongue as he spat into your mouth. the salty taste of yourself mixed with his saliva, tantalizing your taste buds.
you swallowed it all, wanting to savor every part of it. finally, he pressed his lips against yours, the kiss hot and sloppy.
“god i’ve been wanting to do this since i laid eyes on you. you make me wanna do things i never do.” he confessed. “i just wanna feel you baby, be inside you.” he whispered in your ear before leaving a kiss there.
he reached down, and you hear him fumbled with his belt and unzip his pants. “can i feel you darling?” he rhetorically asked, his eyes pleading for your consent.
kicking off his pants, he pressed his hardened and thick member against your thigh.
“yes” you whimpered.
he positioned himself at the entrance, teasingly gliding his throbbing member between your slick folds, eliciting a gasp from you as your arousal coated him. with a low groan, he finally entered you, the sensation of his hot length sinking into you causing you both to curse and moan in unison. "god we fit perfectly," he whispered, his hips moving slowly as he stretched you inch by inch, your walls clenching around him in a deliciously tight grip. you closed your eyes and ran your hands over his back, feeling the fabric of his shirt under your fingertips. suddenly, he hooked his arm under your leg and pulled it up to your chest, angling himself deeper inside you and hitting your sweet spot with each thrust. "you're doing so well, sweetheart," he praised, his hand gently brushing your damp curls as he watched you with adoration.
you looked so beautiful to him in this state, your makeup smudged, your curls disheveled and sticking to your face, and the slight pout on your lips. he could cum just looking at you. never in a million years would you have imagined yourself backstage, getting slowly fucked by michael jackson after his show. but here you were, and you couldn't complain about the experience.
his pace quickens , and you let out a whimper as michael bottoms out, his fat dick hitting your cervix with perfect precision. the old, worn couch beneath you damp from the wetness dripping from your pussy.
"fucck it feels so good," you cried, your body already sensitive from his previous ministrations. michael's free hand reaches down to rub circles on your clit, sending you into a frenzy.
"i know, baby. i know. you wanna cum, huh?" his words only make you moan louder as he continues to fuck you senseless. "you're such a good girl, cum for me mama i wanna feel it," he groans, biting his lip in pleasure. and just like that, the intense feeling washes over you again, your legs shaking as you babble incoherently, completely drunk off his dick.
he smirks, his eyes locked onto yours as he watches you writhe beneath him. "that’s it baby, let it all out. show me how good i make you feel.”
your eyes roll back, a fucked out expression on your face as you release, your cream soaking and saturating his dick. michael's own release is triggered by feeling you clench and pulsate around him, his dick twitching inside you. he gives you three hard strokes through your orgasm, before finally pulling out and cumming all over your stomach. some spurts even shooting your belly piercing, covering the dainty gem.
"fuck," he groans, collapsing on top of you, his body spent. "you're amazing," he whispers, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "thank you for letting me have you." you smile, completely satisfied and content in his arms. you truly just had the best night of your life.
summary: the line had already been crossed between you & michael after having sex with him; now living under the same roof becomes harder than ever.
tags: !smut, good amount of fluff, obsession, lust with guilt, mentions of masturbation, oral m! & f! receiving, unprotected sex, fingering, soft!dom michael, submissive!reader,
a/n: so much positive feedback from part 1. I love you guys, enjoy!! I was listening to "my moon my man" by feist the majority of the time while writing this, take that as you will.
The second you opened your eyes from your deep drunken slumber the next day, you felt this unrelenting sense of confusion that started the hammers pounding in your skull. You didn't know whether to feel elated that Michael helped you with your needs, even in the most erotic way possible, or feel disgusted with yourself as a woman.
You swore you never wanted to touch another glass of wine after mulling over what you had done that evening, & all you wanted was to just take back what happened. Alas, you simply couldn't help being attracted to Michael, very attracted. The alcohol was simply a catalyst for what you've always dreamed of doing: fucking his brains out. You knew that it wasn't a true mistake, & you hated yourself for it.
Truthfully, you felt like a slut. You felt easy, & you were terrified Michael would also think the same of you. You knew you weren't at heart, but you'd never even attempted or thought of doing something so lewd & taboo in your life, so you surprised yourself. Not to mention your relationship with him had just started blossoming into something beautiful & trustful, and you started to feel like family instead of a worker. You felt like pulling the hair out of your scalp, knowing you practically threw all that out the window, the relationship you had before, gone.
The thought of Michael potentially hating you for your foolish, lustful acts clouded your mind the same morning. You knew it was his idea to help you, yet you couldn't shake the feeling that if you politely declined his request, he'd respect you more. You two never even shared a friendly embrace anymore.
The tension in the house from then on was unbearable. You've never been so grateful to work in a mansion, being able to avoid him easily. Any room before he entered felt sparse & light. When he did come in, it immediately felt small & cramped, like you wanted to escape from embarrassment. You swore you would catch him looking at you at times. Lingering in doorways, watching you leave a room. But when you'd turn your head properly to look at him, he'd be gone or looking somewhere else. You truly couldn't remember the last time he'd looked you in the eye. Yet somehow, when your back was turned, you'd always feel his gaze. You'd still pass each other by in one of his many hallways as he'd attempt to throw you a feeble smile that wasn't even a smile, but more a downturned frown that you assumed said,
I acknowledge your presence, yet I don't want to be in it.
You absolutely adored Michael's kids like they were your own. Your heart would shatter in your chest when you'd see them catching onto yours & Michael's sudden change towards each other. Yes, he was their father, yet you were like a second mother; it hurts them.
You'd be tucking them into bed, slowly pulling the covers up to their necks with a gentle peck on their forehead. You always tried to leave their rooms as soon as possible, knowing they would try to question you. You didn't make it this time. You'd hear one of their little voices mumble your name as you were just about to crack open the door to leave.
"What's wrong with you & daddy? Do you hate him?"
You felt like crying, you didn't hate him. You hated yourself.
"No, I don't hate him. Nothing is wrong, you guys sleep now. See you in the morning, okay?" you'd whisper, leaning on the door.
You never visited the living room after you put the kids to bed anymore, especially knowing Michael would be there. Old habits die hard.
The dinners were the most painful endurance; having to sit with all of them in one room for an hour felt like centuries. The satisfying sounds of laughter & small talk, now replaced by deafening silence & the clinking of cutlery on china plates. The only thing that made you feel like you could still function was the size of his dining room, large golden chandeliers hanging from the ceilings, & a substantially large cedar table that seperated your distance from him enough to breathe. You'd subconsciously look for escape routes if things got too uncomfortable, pathetic.
The children would compliment the taste of the dinner you prepared while eating, Michael's head never turning your direction, only his children.
"Tastes really yummy, thank you," they'd murmur shyly, feeling the energy shift themselves.
"You're very welcome, make sure to try & eat it all, yeah?"
You'd continue cutting your food with your head down, your posture straight on your chair.
"Tastes good, well done." Michael would say barely above a whisper as he nodded to himself.
You'd shoot your head up in his direction from sheer surprise, both of you exchanging a 2 second glance before resuming the silent treatment.
When the time came for you to wind down in your bed, you were left to drown in your thoughts with nowhere to go. You'd look at the baby pink paint on your walls, the fresh white coving & that pretty little vanity he got installed for you with a clear vase and roses situated in it. Your room was always a reminder of how kind-spirited Michael was to you, how pure your relationship was. Now you don't know how to feel when you look at your room. It's like everything is a reminder of what will never be. Your eyes fall on your sundress hung up in your closet, memories just rushing back like a tidal wave.
Sure, you feel regret & disgust with yourself. But there will always be a part of you that didn't regret it. The way he made you feel that night, emotionally & physically. You've felt from no other. You've never had someone arouse you so much to the point it feels like constraint. So much so you'd masturbate to the thought of him every consecutive night, while smelling one of his t-shirts you took from the laundry hamper.
You couldn't help it, you'd wait till Michael went to sleep too, making sure he wouldn't be able to hear your little whimpers & moans as you fingered yourself, the t-shirt propped on the pillow next to you as your head buried into it. You'd imagine the way his cock felt as it dragged in & out of your walls, the way he smelt, the way he felt in your grasp. Every attempt you'd ever had at masturbating in the past has failed; nothing was able to make you finish.
Michael was the only one who could make you cum, whether it was him giving it to you himself, or the thought of him in your own privacy. He was the only one.
You'd bite your bottom lip till you tasted blood as you grew wetter & wetter towards your orgasm, all the while trying to hide the sounds of your slickness under the duvet.
"Michael," you'd whimper breathlessly into his t-shirt, his familiar musk filling your nose just right.
You knew you were obsessed with him, you hated yourself for it, but you'd always had an innocent little crush on him since the day you were hired. One last muffled squeal into your pillow & you'd cum, hard. Your fingers suffocated by the sudden tightening of your pussy. You'd still be feeling surprised you're actually able to do that. You always wonder to yourself if he ever does the same to you, still thinks of you like that. You've had the assumption that he doesn't, so you'd try to stop doing it yourself. Yet, you'd always be betrayed by the hyper-realistic sex dreams you'd have of him nearly every night. You didn't know whether you felt trapped or horny, perhaps both.
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It was another predictable & tedious evening in Michael's kitchen, you were preparing a lasagne you learned from one of your favourite recipe books. You used it for half of the dishes you prepared for his family, & every single one came out perfect. You smile to yourself as you smell that satisfying scent of fresh herbs in the air, proud of your craft. Your hair was tied up loosely in a chic French twist, your regular polka-dot apron tied firmly around your taut waist. Soft interludes of gentle lounge music play on the radio on the windowsill as you hum along, grabbing some fresh tomatoes from the fridge as you start unwrapping them. As traditional as it sounds, the kitchen is where you felt the most peaceful after what happened. It cleared your mind, like white noise in your brain.
You placed three tomatoes on the cutting board & pulled out your knife. You could say confidence got the best of you, you diced one of them furiously, trying out a new technique. You hiss through your teeth sharply as you shake your hand, cutting yourself suddenly. You look at your trembling finger, blood rolling down to your palm.
“Shit.”
You make sure to not let any drip on the food, yet some reaches the floor. You quickly turn around & grabbing a tea towel from the oven handle, wrapping it tight around your finger. Sure, you were panicking because you just damn near sliced off your finger, but you also didn’t want Michael to see. He was too kind-hearted. Even in the current state of affairs between you two, if he saw you right now, you knew he’d try to help you & intervene. You didn’t want that.
You practically fled the kitchen, attempting to get into the bathroom before accidentally bumping into Michael, knowing he was already occupied in the front room, which was dangerously close to the bathroom. You manage to make your way in, immediately locking the door behind you & turning the tap on, placing your open-wounded finger underneath. You let out a sigh of relief as you watch the red water simmer down the drain, the pain starting to die down. Though, the relief doesn't last for long.
You hear 2 knocks at the door, making you jump out your skin, water droplets spraying your face.
You don't know why, but you have this horrible feeling it's Michael. If it were his kids, they would call out. You know they would. The silence that follows is deafening; your mouth falls agape, trying to think of something to say. No words come out; you turn back to the sink, deciding not to reply. You hear another knock.
"Can you open the door?"
Michael. His voice was soft & gentle with a hint of concern, the sound making your stomach drop. You haven't heard him speak to you directly in what feels like forever.
You close your eyes, of course he'd make this harder. You shut off the tap, keeping your hand over the sink. The bathroom even more silent than before.
"Im fine." You semi-shout, trying to sound as normal & uninjured as possible, your eyebrows pressed taught from the raging sting in your finger.
"There's blood on the kitchen floor, open the door."
"I'll clean it."
"It's not the floor im concerned about, please just open the door, let me help."
You let out a deep sigh, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear with your uninjured hand. You don't know why you're trembling. A few weeks ago, standing close to Michael or talking to him hadn't frightened you. Now the simple, pathetic act of opening a door felt impossible. You straightened your back, swallowing your pride hard & painfully. You moved to the door with caution as you placed your free hand on the lock, hesitating. Before you would let any useless thoughts invade your brain, you turned the lock quickly. Your adrenaline had you practically swinging open the door.
Michael stood in the doorframe, the sleeves of his usual white linen shirt rolled up, dark blue jeans sitting loosely on his waist. And of course, concern written plainly across his face. Surprisingly, he looked a little relieved the second he saw your face.
For a second neither of you spoke, just basking in each other's long-lost presence. Your little heart was pounding in your chest, how he didn't hear it bemuses you. You hated how badly you still wanted him deep down. Your gaze drops to your finger, blood resurfacing itself again.
"Let me see," he whispers.
You hated how gentle he sounded.
"It's really not that bad Michael-"
"Please. That's not what I asked." He snaps. A hint of intensity on his face.
The second you assume you're irritating him, you hold out your hand reluctantly. He takes it with no hesitation, making your breath catch in your throat. It'd been weeks since he touched you, weeks since he'd looked at you properly, weeks since he performed those nasty acts on you. The simple touch of his hand sends you right back, making your cunt jump in your panties a little; you tried not to think about it.
He sucks in his teeth at the sight of your knawed finger. Stroking the blood around the wound softly. Your heart pounds even faster.
"& you said that's fine?" He scoffs.
He grabs the tea towel hanging off the sink, wrapping it back around your finger.
"Keep pressure on it, I'll grab some wipes & bandages okay? Don't go anywhere."
You nod, taking a seat on the toilet as you keep the pressure around your finger, just like he said. You watch him leave the room, listening to drawers being rumaged in a nearby room, you're not sure which one.
He comes back with bandages in one hand & antiseptic wipes in the other. He kneels down in front of you, taking your hand.
"How did you even manage to do this?" He mutters, looking up at you.
You look down at him, your plump lips fallen open. You try to find the words, a sudden conversation with him is not what you expected this evening.
"I didn't mean to, I was just cutting tomatoes. Too fast" You say, watching him unwrap the wipe sachet.
Michael looks visibly stiff, yet he still manages to let out a laugh at your clumsiness.
"Silly girl." He tuts.
Once he gets the sachet opened, he hesitates before swiping it across the wound, looking at you for approval, knowing it's gonna hurt like hell. A little smile creeps up around your lips, you nod.
"Should be fine if it's quick, right?" You say.
Without warning, he presses the wipe to your wound, the burn penetrating through your nerves as you hiss. Michael strokes your knee gently, cooing to himself.
"I know, I know, you're doing great."
A few more seconds pass while he cleans your wound. Your eyes fixated on him the entire time, reverting back to the floor if he looked at you again. The collarbones peaking through his half-open shirt nearly made you consider making the same mistake again; you can't help yourself.
He throws the wipe in the nearby trashcan, keeping one hand on your knee, stroking with his thumb, making your cunt pulsate in your jeans. After what seems like ages of him over-analysing your wound, he finally pulls out the bandages & starts unravelling them.
You give him your hand to take as he starts gently wrapping it around your finger.
"Do you regret it?"
His voice was hoarse all of a sudden, still looking down at your finger while he wrapped it. You shoot your head up, locking eyes with him momentarily. The same pair of eyes you saw on top of you a few weeks ago. Your body practically freezes as you think of the right thing to say, already subconsciously trying to please him. You decide to just be yourself, say what you really feel.
"I do & I don't, if that makes sense." You say, watching his face intently for any sign of emotion shift. You swallow,
"& you? do you regret it?" You continue.
You expect him to reply instantly, seeing that he was the one who asked the question first. Yet, surprisingly, he doesn't. He just keeps wrapping tediously, eyes focused a little too hard on your hand as if there's something very interesting about it. The silence stretches further than you'd like, & you wish it didn't hurt as much as it did.
Michael smooths the edges of the bandages before letting go of your hand.
"That should be fine now." He says, standing up.
Your chest sinks as you stay on the toilet, feeling even more embarrassed than ever before. You couldn't give yourself a definite answer to whether or not he disliked you. He still cares for you, still touches you, yet he's blocked off certain areas.
"Try to keep it clean for a few days."
Before you can find the courage to press on with the conversation, he's already heading out of the bathroom. Your head falls into your hands; dinner is going to be hell.
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Dinner was as usual, silent clinking of cutlery & deafening silence. This time feels a little lighter than before, knowing you & Michael broke the ice a little. You'd give each other little glances & smiles across the table at times, & you'd notice he wouldn't just be looking at his children, this time he'd look at you too. You felt light, you hadn't felt this much relief in a long time. Even finding your designer purse you left on a park bench after forgetting it was less relieving than this. You knew he didn't hate you. You saw a longing in his eyes, some sort of want that you also knew he saw in yours. It was a mutual feeling, & you both felt it.
"Despite your finger, you did great." Michael compliments you, chewing on the lasagne, a little tantalising smirk plastered on his face followed by a wink.
The wink awakens a feeling that'd been lying dormant in your belly, butterflies. You wave your bandaged finger in the air, giggling a little.
"Couldn't have done it without you."
The children smile, seeing their two favourite people communicating again must feel warm. The whole atmosphere of the dinner started to pick up towards the end, small talk wavering its way in. & this time, you swear Michael placed his seat closer to yours.
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You spent the rest of the evening trying not to think about what happened in the bathroom. You zoned out as you washed the dishes The same memory of how everything started between you two giving you deja vu. Being distracted from Michael should've been easy. The children kept you busy with their demanding requests, dinner came & went, rooms needed to be cleaned, lunches needed to be packed. Yet every time you glanced down at your bandage, Michael on his knees in front of you flashed into your mind. The way he gently touched you, gently spoke to you like you were this little delicate entity, & the way he completely ignored your question.
By the time you tucked the children into bed & the house had fallen silent, your thoughts were once again unbearable. Just like before. You sat on the edge of your bed, absentmindedly brushing your hair after just finishing your nighttime routine at your vanity. The room was dimly lit by your bedside lamp, casting an amber glow over the walls. Despite your raging thoughts, things felt peaceful tonight. It was the first night in a while you felt a little lighter, you couldn't stop thinking of him. His smell was addicting; it took up that entire bathroom while he was in it. Intense vanilla & sandalwood.
Your brush slowed as your mind wandered back to the bathroom.
"& you? do you regret it?"
Your words replay in your mind like a mantra,you genuinely wish you'd never asked. You promised yourself you wouldn't let your pride be a factor when it comes to Michael, but you couldn't help it. You wanted to take it back. That silence he gave you afterwards made you want to scream. Apart from all the guilt & disgust you felt initially, you were scared that your feelings & wanting for Michael were unrequited, that he didn't want you the way you still want him. Part of you knew you could be wrong, you'd see the way he used to gawk at your body, your legs, your tits. You hated how it turned you on. You placed your brush down on your bedside table with a little sigh, your hair blowing. You quickly slip out of your silk pyjama pants, leaving you in your usual pink camisole & your panties. You slip under the covers, staring out the window.
A knock at your door makes your entire body tense; you know who it is. Your heart instinctively starts pounding.
“Who is it?” Just to be sure.
“It’s me.”
You pull the covers up a little higher.
“Come in.”
You hear the door creak open as Michael steps in, shutting the door behind him, making you frown in confusion. He’s changed into his usual grey sweatpants & a plain white T-shirt. His hair is a little more dishevelled than when you last saw it, he also has his glasses on this time. The ones you love.
Michael sees you laid up in bed with your hair down, your tanned shoulders peaking through the covers. You see him swallow & re-adjust himself.
“Oh, I’m sorry. Is this a bad time?”
You sit up, shaking your head. The thought of knowing Michael is in the same room as you while you’re practically half naked under the covers makes you feel exposed.
“No, I wasn’t sleeping anyway.”
Michael hums as he takes a seat at the end of your bed, fiddling with his fingers.
“I just wanted to talk. I feel like it’s been weeks since we’ve spoken properly.”
You nod along, agreeing with him. it has been weeks, & it’s been killing you.
“You’re right, but you never actually answered my question earlier,” you say, raising a brow.
He takes his glasses off, letting them hang on his shirt. His head falls into his palm momentarily, looking a bit hesitant.
“No, I don’t regret it.” He says, looking in your direction.
Your body feels even lighter than before. You stare at him, hoping for an elaboration.
“I know I’ve never admitted it because it feels wrong, but I can’t help my attraction towards you. & I know you work for me, but I didn’t care at the time. I wanted to help you feel things. What’s wrong about that?” He questions.
You can’t help the smile that threatens to invade your face, your thighs tense under the sheets. You place a gentle hand on your chest, trying to steady your heartbeat.
“Nothing's wrong, I feel the same way.”
“I know you do.”
“What?” You furrow your brows.
“I’ve heard you.”
Your heart stops beating, your stomach feels like a washing machine as you feel your mouth becoming dry. Your lashes flutter as you blink rapidly, trying to talk. You’re terrified to ask what he’s referring to, hoping it’s not about you playing with your pussy to him every night. You go for it.
“Heard what?” You stutter, trying to appear stoic.
“I’ve heard you touching yourself, I heard my name. I know how you feel about me, so don’t feel ashamed.”
You don’t know whether to accept it or try to deny it. Either way, what difference would it make? You’ve already fucked the man. Though what Michael wasn’t telling you is that he’d do the exact same.
Michael had been masturbating to the thought of you ever since he fucked you. You were like human superglue on his mind, he couldn’t get you out even if he tried. He’d imagine the way your tits bounced beneath him, the way your teary eyes looked up at him for guidance, & how damn tight your pussy was. He’d be gripping his cock tight, brows pressed together as he grits his teeth, stroking desperately. He’d wait till everyone was asleep, not wanting to be bothered. That’s how he heard you, he’d sneak by your room to check for any noise, any sign you were awake. His cock would twitch at the sound of your desperate little whimpers & the wetness of your pussy, spurring him on even more. His heart dropping when he heard his name. You could’ve been thinking about anyone, but hearing his name in your mouth felt right.
“You still want me?” He says, his eyes piercing your soul. You have nowhere to go, nowhere to run. It’s like he’s cornered you on purpose. All you can do is swallow the lump in your throat & lick your dried-up lips.
"I've been trying hard not to, but I'm sorry I did that, I’m sorry I touched myself.”
Michael's face softens, inching a little closer to you, placing a hand on your leg under the duvet.
"Why didn't you say anything? Had me suffering for weeks, thinking I did something terrible. If only you told me this earlier." He says.
You exhale a breathe, he has no idea.
"I didn't tell you because I thought you hated me or something. I thought you regretted it & looked down on me, like I was..."
He tilts his head, eyebrows tight. "Like you were what?"
"A slut."
"Oh baby," he mewls, now stroking your covered leg. The sensation travelling right up to your core, you feel yourself getting a little slick down there.
The pet name sends you into shock. The last time he called you that was during the act. Safe to say he sent you right back.
"I don't think you're a slut for wanting to feel good. I simply provided a service, & I don't regret it. I'll say it again."
You nod, thanking him for reassuring you. You realised how stupid you were those past few weeks. He never thought you were a slut, never looked down on you. Hell, he wanted you just as bad.
Michael shifts on the bed, his hand leaving your leg to place on the mattress, assuming the conversation is coming to an end.
"Thank you for telling me that, Michael." You say sweetly.
He doesn't respond, his attention caught onto something tucked beneath your pillow. You feel like you're going to end up having a heart attack the way it keeps fluctuating in speed. Your fingers fist the sheets beneath you a little, your body tense. You know exactly what he's looking at, his t-shirt.
Before you can react, he reaches over & pulls at the corner of the exposed fabric. His familiar grey t-shirt slides free, he just holds it in front of him, his lips falling agape. For a second, neither of you says a word, you feel your face burn hot immediately, feeling like you want to vomit.
"What's this? Is this mine?" he whispers, almost to himself.
He doesn't sound mad, more surprised or impressed. His eyes flick from the shirt back to you, & the classic look on your face seems to answer the question for him.
You lunge forward instinctively, attempting to get it back. He gently turns away, still looking at it like he can't believe it's real or something.
"I know it's mine because I've been looking for it."
"Michael, don't be mad, please."
He chuckles, "I'm not an angry person, & you know that," he says, gently placing the shirt on the bed.
He shifts closer to you, closer than before. He notices your chest rising & falling rapidly. He places a hand on it, stroking a little with his thumb.
"Hey, breathe. Im not mad." He says, leaning down a little to get on your eye-level.
"God, I'm sorry." You mutter, your voice starting to crack.
You feel yourself becoming teary from the searing humiliation, it felt like someone broadcasted all your secrets worldwide at once. Your bottom lip starts to quiver, your eyes looking wet as you drop your head, feeling shameful. The second Michael saw your face crumple, something inside him seemed to break.
"Baby, don't cry." he says softly.
You look away instantly, not wanting to look him in the eye. He didn't give you a chance to shy away, he gently took your wrist & pulled you towards him. He made sure the movement was slow enough for you to stop him or pull away. The moment his arms wrapped around your frame, you buried your head onto his shoulder, small little sobs ripping from your throat.
"It's okay, don't feel ashamed. It's okay, I'm not mad." His voice high pitched & gentle.
One of his hands settles against the back of your head, his fingers slowly playing & moving through your glossy hair, smoothing it back from your face as he juts your chin up to face him. The gesture was so familiar. You look up at him through your thick n' wet lashes, your lips puffy & all cried out.
Michael's thumb brushed beneath your eye, catching another tear before rolls down your rosy cheeks. You hated how easily he seemed to unravel you. He kept his eyes on your face, admiring your beauty, as if he hadn’t been doing that anyway. You could see him studying every detail as if he was trying to memorise it for later. You could hear your heartbeat slowing in your ears.
"You know what the worst part of all this is?" He mutters.
You blink, "What?"
A slight smirk tugs at the side of his lips, bringing his face closer to yours. So much so you could smell the mint on his breath.
"You've spent all this time thinking I hated you, when really, I've been trying not to walk into this room every night."
His words sat heavily and soppily between the two of you. Those doubts you had weeks before feel even more dumb.
"You have no idea how hard you've made this for me. I've wanted you so damn bad." he continues, stroking your cheek with the knuckle of his index finger.
A strange yet unrelenting sense of confidence rushes over you. Perhaps it was the relief, or the way he was looking at you like you were sweet candy. You felt tired of holding back your desires. You realised that for those few weeks, you'd convinced yourself that wanting him was something to be ashamed of, looked down upon. For once in your life, you didn't give a damn.
Your eyes flicker down to his parted lips before looking back up at him. You feel your mouth start to salivate, like you're ready to eat. Your heart hammers in your chest against his.
"Then show me." You say just above a whisper, keeping those eyes on his. You know he loves that.
Michael smiles with all his teeth, grinning at your sudden confidence. He strokes a hand through your hair again, leaning in closer. You don’t move an inch, just stare at him.
Before you know it, his hands are cupping both sides of your jaw so gently you can barely feel it. One hand travels to your chin, inching it up a little as his lips hover dangerously close overs yours. Your little shallow breaths hit lips, making him shiver.
Finally, he presses his lips to yours, they’re practically burning hot & supple as anything. You hear a little moan from him the second you two connect you lips, making you furrow your brow. You’d been dreaming about kissing him again after what happened, daydreaming about it while grocery shopping. You never wanted him to stop kissing you, never.
By the time he broke the kiss, he didn’t move far. He leaned his forehead on yours, playing with your bottom lip with his thumb. You pout a little, wanting him back like a baby would with their favourite treat.
“Are you convinced yet?” Michael mutters.
You nod, a vulnerable & pleased expression on your face.
“There you go.”
Michael slid his thumb across your chin, his face completely unreadable. You keep your gaze on him, not faltering. Suddenly, you feel his thumb graze & rub on your pouty lips.
“Open.”
You hesitate before opening your mouth into a small O. His Thumb slowly slides into your mouth, resting against your tounge. Your mouth warm, wet, & inviting.
“Suck.” He whispers hoarsely.
You start blinking rapidly, not used to him acting such a way. He’s always been so gentle, so soft-spoken, almost shy. Yet the way he’s acting right now, it’s like you bring out this erotic side of him, & you can tell he relishes in it.
Without thinking any longer, you latch your lips & tongue around his slender thumb, the slight salty taste making you hum. You flutter your eyes shut, swirling your tongue around it. Michael watches you like he’s in a trance, his eyes half lidded, full of pure untainted lust.
You release your mouth of his finger.
“I wanna taste it,” you say, palming his cock through his sweats. The stiffness of it takes you by surprise.
“I didn’t get to last time & I’ve been dreaming about doing it, can I?” You continue.
Before Michael could even answer, you were crawling out of the bed desperately, your little ass perched up in the air momentarily as you made your way to the floor.
You situate yourself in between his legs, kneeling. You never realised how long & lanky they were until now.
“I don’t want you feeling uncomfortable on that floor,” he protests, yet you can see his bulge swelling up more & more with each second.
You giggle, flipping your locks to one side as you slide your hands up his meaty thighs, making him twitch.
“That’s what you’re worried about?” You smirk, a dangerous twinkle in your eye as you pull at his waistband, signalling him to take them off.
"Didn't want your little knees getting hurt, but if you say so."
He hesitated before grabbing his waistband himself, lifting himself up as you took over & pulled them down his legs impatiently.
His thighs were dad thick, the subtle hair on them made your hands tingle as you rubbed them up & down. You knaw on your bottom lip as you slide a hand over his boxers, gently playing with his bulge.
The subtle sensation makes him weak, he throws his head back as a low & lengthy groan escapes him. He braces one hand beside him on the mattress for support, the other playing with your hair tediously.
You waste no time slowly pulling the hem of his boxers down. He lifts himself, allowing you to fully slide them down to his ankles. Your mouth is practically watering at the familiar sight of his cock sprung free in front of your face, standing tall. The tip mauve & deep, the skin warm, & incredibly soft as you traced your finger across a singular vein.
You wrap your hand around his lower base, inching your head up to look him in the eye as you stick your tongue out, slapping the tip on your tongue a few times. You've always been a slow love maker. You feel him vivaciously throb around your grip, glistening pre-cum starting to pool on his head.
"Quit teasin' ", he giggles softly, rubbing the back of your head.
You lower your head, licking one long, painfully slow stripe up his shaft, followed by suckling on his tip. His hand grips the sheets roughly, knuckles white as he lets out a sharp hiss through his teeth. You keep your eyes on him at all times, noticing the way little beads of sweat collect at the sides of his temples. It doesn't take much to please him.
"Oh fuck," he moans.
Finally, you sink your ripe lips down his length as much as your throat can take. You reach his base, gaggling slightly as you feel his hand travel to your breast, groping it over your camisole.
You continue your work on his cock, rhythmically bobbing your head up & down his length at a safe pace as you jerked his lower half, not able to take him all. He tasted clean & a little salty, you loved it.
You realised your mouth off him with a wet pop, stroking him.
“You taste so good.” You whisper seductively.
His mouth is practically pryed open as he watches you stroke him, amazed by your talent & desperation.
Just before you're about to go down on him again, he stops you.
“Enough of me, I wanna touch you.”
Without any further notice, he’s grabbing you by your armpits, lifting you off the floor with a groan. He situates you on the bed, pulling the straps of your camisole down as he pulls your top completely off. Your full breasts sitting cute in front of him, nipples hard from arousal.
“So damn pretty.” He says, latching his mouth onto one, sucking gently, humming to himself. He’s exactly where he’s dreamed of being.
You throw your head back as you whimper, the feeling of his slick tongue on your sensitive nipple sending you onto overdrive.
He releases himself from your breast, turning his attention to your hot pink panties, stained & just begging to be removed. He slides two fingers across your clothed folds, whispering profanities under his breath as you spread your legs wider. It’s like your body knows who he is & reacts as such whenever he touches you.
“Mhm, there,” You let out a guttural moan, your eyes falling to the back of your head from the sensation of your clit being grazed.
He leans down, groping the squidgy skin of your inner thighs as he kisses your damp lips, sucking & tasting you through the fabric.
“I can feel you throbbing, want more?” he chuckles, looking up at you momentarily.
“Yes, yes,” you beg, nodding aggressively. You don’t care how desperate you may seem, if you want something you want it.
He latches his finger around the hem of your panties, pulling them to the side to reveal your glossy slick folds.
“Sexy pussy,” he coos, playing with your swollen clit a little before latching his mouth onto it. He laps up your juices from bottom to top as if he wants to physically consume it, his shoulders hunched.
You let your mouth fall completely open as you fall back on the bed, your thighs trembling as you listen to him slurping you up, your hands flying to his hair.
“Fingers please,” you beg, barely audible as you struggle to talk.
Michael listens to your command, sliding 2 of his lengthy fingers into your weeping entrance. One hand flies to your mouth covering it as you arch your back into an aggressive C. Suddenly, you’re painfully aware the children are in close proximity.
“Remember, baby, the children. Try to be quiet for me.” He says, slowly sliding his fingers in & out.
You nod, clamping down on your bottom lip till you taste blood as you struggle.
“Please Michael, wanna come again so bad.”
He speeds up the pace with his fingers, licking & sucking your sensitive nub with a calm gentle rhythm driving you over edge.
“Give it to me baby, I want it,” he presses.
You start to feel a familiar sensation crescendo in your lower belly again, the same feeling on the couch & in your bed at nighttime, you knew what it was. You squeeze your eyes shut as your mouth hangs open, anticipating your release.
“Michael I’m gonna come! don’t stop don’t stop,” you warn, gripping his hair even tighter.
“Yes,” he hisses against your pussy, “cum for me, there you go.”
With a muffled cry, your let your orgasm tear through you. Your thighs like jelly as your pulse booms in your ears.
Michael sits up, crawling over you as he grabs your face for a messy kiss. He kicks his boxers & sweats off his ankles. You have no time to come back to reality after your orgasm, desperate to have him inside of you.
You shift your panties down your legs, both of you now completely stark naked infront of eachother. You both pause for a second, taking in eachothers bodies. You rub your hands along his chest, it’s taught & defined. You pepper little kisses along his collarbone as you signal him to flip over & lie down.
“Lay on your back.” You say, flipping your hair out your face.
Michael props himself against the headboard, lying flat on the bed. He’s already holding his hands out awaiting you. Heat creeps up your cheeks as you crawl over on top of him, throwing your legs on either side of his hips. You situate yourself on his shaft, your bare pussy now pressed against it. He lets his hands rest gently on the curve of your hips.
“You’ve gotta be the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen, y'know that?” He says lowly, grazing his hands up & down your ass with a light slap.
“& you’ve gotta be the most handsome man I’ve ever seen, or boss.” You giggle.
His lips twitch into a smile as he holds your lower half up, allowing you to take a hold of his stiffened cock. Little whimpers fall from your lips as you rubs his slick tip across your folds, both of you are so wet & you haven’t even started. You’d love to tease him a little, sitting down a on his tip allowing it to sink in a little.
Your actions would only make him harder, a small bang from the headboard whenever his head would fall.
Finally, you slowly sink down on his length. Every inch that enters you feels suffocating yet extremely pleasurable. Your eyes flutter shut as you squeal under your breath, placing both your hands on his chest. Your pussy practically sucks him in like a hoover, not letting him go anywhere.
His hands instinctively inch you down a little further, desperate himself to be inside of the girl that’s been living in his imagination for weeks.
You wiggle your ass as you get comfortable, now fully seated on his cock. Your chest rises & falls, the pleasure so intense you’re scared to move, you feel like you could cum already.
“So tight, oh my god.” He groans, raking a hand through the ends of your hair.
"Wanted to do this for so long," you whine n' pout, rolling your hips back & fourth.
Michael hums as he guides you back & fourth on his length, your hair flying & sticking onto your lips. His tip violently hits your g-spot with each roll making your legs almost give out. You try your hardest to keep your eyes out your head & on Michael at all times, you wanted to remember this.
Your cheeks flush a light rose color, already fucked out. You start to bounce impatiently, loving the feeling of him entering & re-entering you. Your tits bounce freely in front of him, automatically making him lean forward & hold one, latching his mouth onto your right nipple.
"I love it," you moan pornographically, "It's so big."
His ego swells up at your comment, spurring him on more. He grabs onto the fat of your hips a little harder as he manually bounces you on his cock, mouth still latched onto your breast. The subtle sound of skin meeting skin fills the emptiness of the room, the air humid & warm with the aroma of both of your unique scents now melted together.
"Feeling good ma?" Michael breathes, his face red and fucked out already, his body jutting up & down from your continuous bounces.
“So good,” you whisper, leaning down into his ear.
He plants a peck on your cheek, wrapping his arms around you as he flips you over so you're on your fours.
One thing about Michael was that he loved missionary, that was one of his favourites. Sure, he'd loved seeing that pretty little face of yours tear up as you came. But truthfully, he'd been fantasising about having you bent over for the past 2 weeks, & he feels elated that it's no longer a dream.
You point your ass up in the air for him, eager & starved. You wrap your arms around his t-shirt, the one you'd been touching yourself to for weeks. You let your head rest on it as you look back at him waiting for him patiently.
He positions himself behind you, for a second he just admires the view of you bent over & waiting for him. He loathes in it, & you loathe in the attention, all on you. He plants a semi-rough slap on your left cheek, leaving a red mark. You whine into his shirt, smiling.
"Always wanted to do that, seeing you around the house lookin' all pretty."
Before you can reply, you feel his cock return to your slick folds as he drags the tip over it a few times, collecting your arousal. He strokes a hand from the nape of your neck to your lower back, keeping it there as he pushes himself into you.
You drag out a whine, biting on his shirt to muffle yourself. He starts of slow, just watching the way your cunt swallows him like it knows who he is.
"My god," he whimpers, both hands on your hips now.
You feel your body jolt as he starts to speed up, a white ring of sweet elixir forming at the base of his cock. Moans n' whimpers fall from your lips uncontrollably as you happily take him.
He loved watching the way your ass recoiled against his thighs, growing even harder inside of you.
"I'm trying not to swear, goddamn." He groans.
He leans forward, pressing his clammy chest on your back with one hand on the mattress and one guiding your hips back & fourth. Michael's greedy, he doesn't know whether to look at your face or ass. Both just as hypnotising as each other.
You look back at him, your eyes half lidded & glossy.
"Michael, I think I'm gonna come again," you whine, your voice breaking.
You feel his breath hit your ear as he leans into it. Both his hands now on your hips, driving you onto his cock even harder.
"Come with me, I'm so close," he pleads with you.
"Mmyeah, please don't stop." You beg, twisting your neck as far as you can to kiss him.
You share a passionate kiss as you feel another searing orgasm crest in your belly. Your brows pinch together as you try to keep your lips on his. The second he feels your cunt tighten up, he nods, pushing you on to finish as you feel his own thrusts speed up.
"Fuck, Im coming!" You cry.
"Me too, baby, shi–"
Your head falls into his shirt beneath you as your release tears through you once again without warning, your walls tightening around him violently, bringing him to a sharp halt as he releases himself inside of you. You hum in satisfaction as you feel his warm release pool deep in your pussy, little bits trying to escape out the sides.
He finally pulls out of you, watching the way his seed drips out of you in awe, collecting some on his fingers.
"So much," he says to himself.
He finally flops down next to you, both of you half-dead & useless as you stare at each other with your chests rising and falling rapidly. Reality rushes in once again, though this time felt a little less heavy. Neither of you seemed to care, you were content & bliss.
You share a final kiss as Michael wraps his arms around your small frame, pulling you tight against his sticky chest. The smell of his sweat & cologne an addictive mix.
You look up at him from his arms,
"We didn't learn anything from the first time did we?" You mutter, a small smirk on your face.
Michael shakes his head, looking elsewhere.
"No, I definitely learned something." He replies.
"& what's that?"
"That I don't wanna stay away from you."
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ
thank you guys for your patience with this fic, I had so much fun writing it 🥹
"And when we talked about being number 1 on the call sheet and the responsibility that comes with that... You're number 1. People are watching you and watching your behavior and they're gonna know how to move the other actors, etc. And I want you to be the king like your uncle."
・❥・Thinking about how mature!michael would be the perfect husband for his controversial younger fiancé now turned wife. The way he would cater to your every need and desire. No matter what the public said about you he never cared anyways, he always wanted a woman that loved him genuinely and had a woman to treat like a Barbie doll
・❥・The way you’d wake up hot and bothered from a dream you had so you had no choice but to take it out on your husband. Waking him up and starting his day by giving him a blowjob until your hair was slightly messy and your mouth full of his cum. Of course he wanted more but this was all the time you could spare
・❥・ He loved how you woke up early enough to cook breakfast for the entire family before spending the day dedicated to the children’s education or activities to keep them busy.
・❥・Money was never an issue. Often times Michael would give you his credit card for you to spoil yourself, you weren’t even sure if you even had a limit. While he stayed home with the kids you would spend the day pampering yourself with things like spa trips, buying new dresses, and trying new coffee shops for your new matcha spot. Of course you’d sneak in lingerie shopping
・❥・Returning home just in time you’d get started on dinner while Michael and the children began cleaning up their mess. He would often stare at you and fantasize about all the times he used to freely bend you over and fuck uou in the kitchen before the the two of you had little ones running around. Michael, unable to wait until after dinner time placed the kids in front of the living room tv and turned on Finding Nemo to steal you away for a few seconds
・❥・Pulling you into the laundry room and sucking tongues while he began grinding his bulge into your pussy against the washing machine. He loved the times you disobeyed him so you’d be deprived for a couple days. Instead of allowing you to cum he’d only give you the satisfaction of dry humping him in his jeans or his thigh for the time being. The two of you only had a few minutes to spare before somebody came looking for either one of you
・❥・Michael praised how wet you could become for him but keep your composure. Finally allowing you to understand how much he loved when you woke him up with pleasure and how his days were better when you made such a bold decision
・❥・He loved when he came inside of you and you’d continue your day with a cum filled pussy followed by his fluids staining your underwear. Just the thought of you being so devoted to him that you’d carry a piece of him inside of you all day until you showered at the end of the day
・❥・The way you would lick the homemade icing off of the spatula after smearing it all over the freshly baked cinnamon rolls reminded him of the way you would lick his cum up as it came shooting out after one of your infamous blowjobs. The way you’d look at him with passionate eye contact, knowing it was on purpose and to get him hot and bothered for later on tonight
・❥・Michael took on the task of bathing the children and putting them to bed so you had the opportunity to bathe yourself and pamper for tonight’s festivities. You bathed in Amber Vanilla and Velvet Rose before oiling yourself and spraying yourself in Michael’s favorite perfume he loved on you so much. Instead of your usual silk gowns you stayed naked and covered yourself in the Egyptian silk sheets. The bedroom door swung open and quickly shut with a faint sound of a lock following
・❥・He loved your soft whimpers you let out as he rubbed his dick against your entrance before penetrating you without any warning. Michael loved running his fingers through your hair—tugging it each stroke. Digging further inside your guts and gently pecking your nose and lips before whispering how much he loved you and the amazing mother you were. “You’re mine and I’m yours” he whispered
・❥・Michael always made sure to allow you to cum back to back before he even thought about himself. He would sometimes have to push your head in between the pillows to keep you quiet. Always threatening to punish you if your moaning woke up the children. Every night he came deep inside you in hopes that you’d come running in his office with a positive pregnancy test very soon
summary: during michael’s invincible album release, he does a meet and greet with his fans. not only does he meet the cutest little boy, but his mother might also be a sweet lil thing too..
sorry guys been xtra busy recently. more stories and the requests coming next week, also thank u for all the requests i’ve seen them and will be writing𑣲⋆
“are you okay, baby” you said quietly, crouching slightly to whisper in the boys ear.
“i’m okay mama, it’s just very loud” zain whispered back, his head slightly bowed, the fedora tipping slightly.
you grabbed his tiny hand tighter, squeezing it to reassure him that you were there protecting him and nobody would hurt him.
you and zain were stood around 6 people away from michael, his cd signing allowing 500 lucky fans to get into the store.
when you had heard of the chance to meet michael, you did absolutely everything in your power to do so, for your little boy.
zain had loved michael from the moment he had first heard him on the tv when he was 1 years old. he had heard black or white, standing infront of the tv watching the music video whilst shaking his little shoulders, asking you to replay it multiple times before it became practically engrained into the walls.
it was then you went down a rabbit hole with him, playing every michael jackson song that was available to play at his request, his favourites accumulating to don’t stop till you get enough and remember the time.
he had even stood in the living room trying to copy the dangerous dance breakdown, eventually almost mastering it to the best of his toddler abilities.
he had become one of michael’s biggest fans, and he was only three and a half years old.
now you both were stood in the music shop, blessed to receive access after you had bought the invincible cd the day before, your son had been wrapped up in your arms as he bounced up and down, so excited to get his hands on the music.
the line finally began to shorten after what felt like years of being stood in the same spot, the sequins on zain’s white glove digging into the skin of your palms. his tiny suit ruffled every time his legs moved, restless from standing still for so long.
the table became easier to see as you got closer, michael sat there whilst his hands signed the cd alongside listening attentively to what the fan infront of him was saying, nodding politely.
you picked zain up, placing him onto your hip so you could talk to him closer.
“okay we are nearly there now, don’t worry baby. can you see him right there” before pointing towards michael.
“oh my gosh mama! he’s right there!” he squealed slightly, his hands grabbing your shoulders and wrapping around the back of your neck to hug you.
you giggled at his excitement, so happy to see your son laughing and getting tense with energy.
the joy ran like honey through your veins, it had been a difficult few months. struggling with money in order to put food on the table for your son and you and paying for clothes and bills. but you had finally gathered your footing, starting a new job that payed exceptionally, now able to fund zain’s michael jackson obsession.
the large, burly security guard stood next to the large sign beside the table, gently guiding you and your son forward and putting space between you and the person behind you, probably wanting to protect the little boy that shuffled his feet in anticipation along the carpeted floor.
michael’s eyes scanned the room, moving down the line towards the people he was about to meet. his dark brown eyes glinting and glittering under the bright lights before locking onto someone, the little boy dressed up as him. he laughed out loud, his hand coming up to cover his mouth as he stared in shock.
michael tried to focus on what the man standing in front of him was saying, his hands signing the cd with the all too familiar signature, but his mind and eyes kept wandering back to the little boy.
you moved forward, going up the steps of the platform to the table, guiding your son towards the table. your heartbeat began to race, an unexpected nervousness overcoming you at the sight of the handsome king of pop.
the cloth covered table covered the majority of zain’s body, only his bright eyes and fedora peeking over at him, his hands gripping the table so tight his knuckles nearly turned white.
“come on, honey, he can’t see your outfit” you said, laughing quietly at his pose.
your hands went under zain’s arms, placing him onto the table infront of you, hands resting gently on his lower back to steady him and make him feel safe. a symphony of ‘awh’ echoed behind you, the cuteness of the moment forcing everyone to look.
michael laughed loudly, his head tipping back before his head came forward, looking over zain’s outfit in awe.
“you look like me!” michael exclaimed, his voice going a tiny bit higher, his finger grazing zain’s tiny knuckles.
“well… i-i… mamaaa” zain stuttered, turning around suddenly and burying his face into your neck.
he had become all of a sudden to nervous to even look michael in the eye, one of his favourite people ever was stood infront of him but all the attention was too much.
“it’s okay, baby. look, show him your dance moves, you said to me before that you wanted to show him something didn’t you?”
your comforting hand running over the length of his back, trying to coerce him to turn around to look at michael, who was staring at him in awe and you with a certain look in his eye that you couldn’t quite name.
zain turned, his back pressing against your chest as he leant against you. he looked at michael, a tiny hand coming out for him to shake.
“hi, i’m zain” he whispered, the other hand coming up near his mouth.
“hi zain, it’s lovely to meet you! you look amazing, your mama said you wanted to show me something?” he leant closer, his other hand coming up to bend the small fedora back to uncover his face.
zain shuffled forward a little bit, before getting into position. he span in a circle, the cloth bunching under his feet, before he brought one hand to his lower stomach and one hand to his hat, his leg propping out. zain ended his quick performance with his hand grasping the little fedora and tilting it down to block his face, and then coming up to a point.
michael clapped, getting to his feet to give him a proper standing ovation. he wrapped the boy up in his arms, giving him a hug and a kiss on the top of his head, a huge smile painted across his face.
“wow, that was amazing! you could take my place one day.”
looking at the interaction between michael and zain, any random person would think it was between a father and son the way he cared so much. he held his hands in his, nodding along and consistently complimenting zain, whether it was on his dance moves, his outfit or his cute curly hair.
“and mama must be very proud of you, huh? at having a son with such god given talent” michael said suddenly, pulling you out of your thoughts, your eyes meeting his.
“oh he’s amazing, he’s loved you since he’s been able to move around, always dancing in the living room to your songs, aren’t you?” you tickled zain’s sides lightly, causing a high pitched giggle to fall from his mouth.
“is that so, zain? well you have made my day with your little dance moves and your cute little smile” michael said, “guess we know who he got that from”
his eyes locked onto your face, more specifically your shiny lips, before running up and down your body, taking in your full appearance.
you shyly dipped your head, a small, nervous tilt of your lips making you look even more prettier to michael. the black zip of your bag brushed against your hands as you opened it, reaching into grab the cd and place it on the table.
“zain was so excited to come here, dressing up as you was his idea actually. but it was a surprise cause he usually doesn't like wearing this stuff” you looked at zain, his hands locking infront of him as he swayed from side to side.
michael’s hands took the cd off of the table, before taking the cap off the pen and bringing his head down, writing a little message to zain with absolute concentration before signing off with his iconic signature.
you turned your head to zain, tilting his hat back and pulling his jacket down as it had ridden up to his waist in all of the chaos. you asked how he was, wondering if this was becoming too much for him before he smiled at you, confirming that he was as happy as can be.
“here you go, little man”
he placed the cd in zain’s hands, his large eyes scanning over the writing before turning it towards you.
“mama, what does it say?”
you and michael burst into laughter, zain’s head tilted as he looked at you with confusion.
“we will read it later baby, come on”
the security guard motioned to michael that it was time for you to move on, the moment stopping all too soon for his liking, but he understood the need to keep on time.
“well it was lovely to meet you zain, and you too mama, you have raised him beautifully” he whispered towards you, his hand taking yours in a handshake before bringing it to his lips.
you felt your body get hot, eyes widening in shock, a slight sweat building up on your brow bone as you grew increasingly flustered.
turning towards zain, a nervous laughter bubbling in your chest as you moved to pick him up off of the table.
“say bye, zain” you whispered in his ear.
zain shot forward, wrapping his arms around michael’s neck in a hug, his face buried into the crook of his shoulder.
michael’s large hands moved to his back, one supporting his back, the other engulfing the back of his curly hair. his eyes shut as a warm smile grew on his face at the young child’s sweetness.
“bye zain, thank you for coming today”
zain moved backwards towards you, his legs wrapping around your waist and head resting against your chest, your hands moving to grip his back slacks to hold him up.
he waved a small goodbye, his eyes filling with tears at the departure.
“bye mikey!”
you smiled at michael, before walking down the steps, around the back of the set up to leave the store.
zain stifled a small cry, his lip trembling and a few tears slipping down his chubby cheeks.
“mama, i miss him already” he muttered into your shirt, your hand resting on his head.
michael’s doe eyes followed you out, before turning slightly to his head of security and whispering something into his ear before getting a nod in return.
the man gripped the walkie-talkie on his waist and brought it up to his lips before saying something inaudible into it.
as you walked closer to the door, whispering comfort into zain’s ears as he sobbed gently into your neck, a man dressed in black stopped you, the words ‘SECURITY’ painted across his chest.
“are you zain’s mother, the little boy michael just met?” the man said, sounding very serious, a pit forming in your stomach.
“oh um.. yes i am, is there a problem?” your voice twinged with confusion, wondering if you had done anything wrong.
he glanced around to see if anyone was nearby before reaching into his pocket, pulling out a folded note and placing into your slightly closed hand that rested on zain’s hip.
“have a good day, ma’am” ,turning and walking back to the cd signing.
staring in confusion at the man’s back as he walked away, you glanced back at your son, a deflated look painted across his face.
“let’s go and get something to eat, and we can read what michael put on the cd, yeah?”
you walked into the cozy restaurant, being led to a booth in the corner, placing him along with your bags into the corner and sitting down yourself.
you read zain the menu, allowing him to pick what he wanted before reading it off to the waiter along with your own order.
the day had clearly began to wear on zain, his eyes beginning to droop and gradually becoming more clingy and wanting your affection.
you wrapped your arms around his shoulder, guiding him to lean against you as you held the cd in your hands.
“should we read this together then, baby?”
zain nodded his head, his legs swinging over your thighs and getting more comfy so you can read the message to him.
“okay, it says: dear zain, thank you for showing me your dance moves, i was very impressed at how good you are - especially that spin, that was amazing. i might have some competition!
keep dancing, keep smiling and i hope you enjoy this album, maybe you can make some new moves for me? love, michael jackson”
zain’s smile widened, his pearly teeth showing, “mama, he said that i was amazing?”
“he did, baby! you must have blown him away with your coolness!” you giggled, ruffling his curls as his eyes squinted due to his grin.
you turned the cd in your hands to look at the full thing, before flipping it onto the back, black marker standing out against the blue background.
your eyebrows furrowed at it, wondering how you had missed him writing on the back.
‘mama, there is something very special about your son, the way he allows the music to take over his body is amazing, it reminds me of when i was a child. he has a beautiful spirit and i hope he keeps that for the rest of his life. you have done an amazing job at raising him.
take care of yourself, michael’
you read it in your head, a warmth in your chest growing. someone else had noticed the spark in your boy, the ever growing spark growing brighter in his eyes as he grew older, something different from the other children in his class.
remembering the note that had been placed into your hand and then stuffed into your bag as you focused on finding somewhere to eat in the big city, slipping into the black purse and pulling out the note.
‘please call me, i would love to meet you and your wonderful son again. - michael’
the number underneath was written in big bold letters, a contrast to the cursive writing on the cd, obviously written by the security guard.
smiling at not only the note on both the cd and the paper, but also at your sons excitement, the plates clinked against the table.
grabbing the knife and fork and cutting your sons food into smaller pieces, passing the fork to him to eat.
@ jacksons era!michael x female reader
(part 2 of elopement)
summary: you and michael are back at hayvenhurst after your vegas elopment and the family finds out that now you're married. they all have different reactions. some good, some not.
themes: fluff, hopelessly in love michael, joseph attempting to intimidate
author's note: reposted from my wattpad & ao3.
1978
hayvenhurst
You woke up the next morning surrounded by warmth.
Soft sunlight streamed through the windows in pale golden streaks, casting a quiet glow across the room, but it wasn't the sunlight that held you there in that sleepy haze between dreaming and waking. It was Michael.
His body was still wrapped around you completely, his arms secure around your waist, like even in sleep, he couldn't let you drift too far from him. His head was buried in the nape of your neck, soft curls brushing your skin every time he breathed, his chest pressed firmly against your back, warm and steady and comforting in a way that immediately makes you melt further into him.
You snuggle more into him instinctively, even as you feel yourself beginning to wake up more fully. Michael, though, is still fast asleep, and you can feel the difference in him immediately.
He's resting, really resting. It's the most rested he's felt in months.
There's no tension in his body, none of that tightness he carries in his shoulders even when he's trying to relax. No faint crease between his brows from overthinking, no restlessness beneath the surface. He's completely still against you in the best possible way, like for once, his mind finally let him stop running.
Carefully, you turn in his arms until you're facing him, his hold loosening just enough to let you move before tightening around you again automatically, even in sleep. Your eyes slowly flutter open fully as you look at him, and the sight of him like this makes something warm spread through your chest so quickly it almost aches.
Your husband.
The thought hits you all over again.
You still couldn't believe it was real. You couldn't believe you and Michael really got married last night. Even now, lying here in his bed at Hayvenhurst with the morning light spilling over him, it still feels surreal in the softest way.
You love how peaceful he looks when he's sleeping.
Without the pressure of cameras or rehearsals or expectations pulling at him from every direction, he looks younger somehow, softer. His lashes rest against his cheeks, his lips slightly parted in sleep, his breathing deep and even as he stays curled around you.
And he does look like he's getting real rest.
You know how hard it is for Michael at times to sleep. You've heard the exhaustion in his voice on late-night calls, felt the way his body crashes the second he finally lets himself stop moving, and watched him struggle to quiet his mind enough to actually rest. But now he looks still... in a good way.
Like for one night, everything else stayed outside the room.
As you lie here and look at him, you still can't believe he's your husband. He's fully yours in the way that matters most, and the thought settles deep into your chest with a warmth that feels overwhelming and grounding all at once.
You know the two of you can't stay in this bubble forever; reality is going to come back in eventually. His family, yours, the questions and reactions.
But for right now, this moment still belongs to the two of you, and you want to hold onto it for as long as you can.
You gently run your thumb across his jaw, your touch light and slow as you memorize the way he looks when he's completely at peace. His long lashes flutter slightly against his cheeks at the feeling of your touch, his body instinctively responding to you even before he fully wakes, but he keeps his eyes closed.
You lean forward and gently press your lips to his, and it doesn't take Michael too long.
The second he feels your lips against his, you feel his body begin waking up beneath your hands, slowly registering what's happening before he kisses you back almost immediately, soft, warm, and still heavy with sleep. His arms tighten around you as he pulls you even closer to him, even though there's no more space between you two, like somehow he still wants you closer than this.
Michael is the first one to pull back, and when he does, his eyes slowly flutter open, remnants of sleep still clinging to him. His curls are messy from sleep, his voice still rough around the edges when he speaks, but he looks content. And for the first time in months, he looks rested.
"Good morning, Mrs. Jackson," he whispers to you.
The words hit you instantly, Mrs. Jackson.
Your cheeks flush so fast it almost embarrasses you, warmth spreading across your face as you bury your head into his shoulder with a soft laugh, suddenly overwhelmed all over again by the reality of it.
"Good morning, husband," you say as you gently kiss the soft skin of his neck. A quiet sound leaves him at that, somewhere between a hum and a sigh.
"Hmm, say that again," he says softly.
You lift your head to look at him, smiling as your thumb traces slowly along his jaw, your touch lingering there. "Husband," you say with a smile.
Michael smiles widely immediately, the expression bright and completely unguarded as he grabs your hand in his. His gaze drops to the ring he had gotten for you, the one he presented at the ceremony in Vegas, and his thumb brushes over it gently before he lifts your hand and presses a soft kiss against it.
The gesture makes you blush all over again.
"I love the sound of that," he says.
You nod because you love the sound of it too. More than you thought you would. There's something about hearing him call you his wife that makes everything feel more real every single time.
"Me too," you say softly.
Michael leans in and kisses you again, slow and affectionate, and you smile against his lips as you kiss him back. You know you'll have to leave the bubble and face his family eventually. You know this quiet little world the two of you created can't stay untouched forever.
But right now, none of that feels close enough to matter. Right now, you're content, and you want to stay in this moment with him forever.
"The first day of waking up like this for the rest of our lives," Michael says as he tucks your hair behind your ear. Your smile widens immediately. He's so corny at times, hopelessly so, but that's one of the things you love most about him. The sincerity in everything he says, the way he means even the cheesy things with his entire heart.
"And as my first day as Mrs. Jackson... I would love to make my husband breakfast," you say.
The words make Michael's entire expression soften. Husband. Every time you say it, it affects him all over again, like he still can't fully believe this is real either. His eyes stay on you for a second longer, warm and soft.
He leans in to kiss you again, slow and lingering, like he can't stop touching you now that you're his wife. The kiss makes warmth spread through your chest all over again, your stomach twisting pleasantly as his hand slides against your cheek with familiar tenderness.
Every kiss with Michael feels like kissing him for the first time.
Not because they're unfamiliar, but because he kisses you like he still can't believe he gets to.
When you pull back, the two of you get out of bed and get dressed, the softness of the morning still lingering between you both like something fragile you don't want to disturb too quickly. You slip on a pair of shorts and one of Michael's t-shirts, the fabric still carrying his scent, warm and comforting against your skin, and he pulls on a t-shirt along with sweatpants, his curls still slightly messy from sleep.
The two of you walk downstairs together, your fingers brushing against each other every few seconds without either of you realizing it, and when you step into the kitchen, you find it surprisingly empty.
You and Michael exchange a look immediately because Hayvenhurst is rarely this quiet in the morning, but after a second, you just shrug lightly and move toward the fridge. You've practically lived at Hayvenhurst anyway, so you know where everything is without thinking about it, and soon you're moving around the kitchen with an easy familiarity, pulling ingredients out while the stove heats.
Michael watches you the entire time.
He props himself up on the counter beside you, one foot hooked against the cabinet beneath him, his expression soft and openly affectionate in a way that still makes warmth spread through your chest every time you catch him looking at you like that.
"Look at that, we might actually be able to have our first breakfast as husband and wife alone," Michael says with a soft smile. A laugh immediately slips out of you at the way he says it so casually, so happily, like he's still trying the words out every chance he gets simply because he loves the sound of them.
"Your first breakfast as what!?" The voice cuts sharply through the kitchen before either of you can react, and the warmth of the moment disappears so quickly it almost feels physical.
You and Michael both freeze at the same time.
When you turn around, LaToya and Janet are standing just inside the kitchen doorway, staring at the two of you with identical wide-eyed expressions, shock written all over their faces after clearly catching what Michael said.
For a second, nobody moves.
Then LaToya suddenly rushes toward you, immediately grabbing your wrist and pulling you gently away from the stove where you were scrambling eggs. Your heart starts pounding as she takes your left hand into hers, and the second her eyes land on the wedding ring sitting on your finger, her entire expression changes.
"Oh my God," she breathes.
The disbelief on her face only deepens as she immediately turns toward Michael, grabs his hand next, and stares at the gold wedding band on his finger, too, before looking rapidly between the two of you.
"You two got married!?" LaToya asks in complete disbelief.
"Who did what!?" The sound of Joseph's voice snapped through the kitchen like a crack of thunder.
You feel Michael tense beside you before you even fully turn around, the reaction immediate and instinctive, and when you look at him, all the color has drained from his face so quickly it makes your chest tighten painfully. The softness from moments ago is completely gone now, replaced by something tight and guarded as Janet instinctively moves closer toward Michael near the counter.
You and LaToya slowly turn around, and the second you see Joseph standing in the doorway, the atmosphere in the room shifts so heavily it feels suffocating.
"LaToya, Janet, get out of here," Joseph says. His voice isn't loud, but somehow that makes it worse. There's a sharpness underneath it that immediately puts everyone on edge.
LaToya looks at you sympathetically right away, concern flashing across her face as she gently squeezes your hand before wrapping an arm around Janet and quickly leading her out of the kitchen. Janet keeps glancing back nervously the entire way out before the two of them disappear completely, leaving the room painfully quiet.
You turn the stove off because you already know breakfast is over now, the smell of eggs and butter suddenly feeling strangely out of place against the tension filling the room, and you move immediately to stand beside Michael. The second you do, he pulls you closer until you're standing between his legs, where he's still perched against the counter, your back pressed firmly against his chest.
The gesture is protective and grounding all at once.
Even terrified, Michael's first instinct is still to pull you closer to him instead of away. You can feel the tension radiating through his body, the way every muscle is tight beneath your hands, but he still keeps you tucked securely against him like he's silently making it clear that no matter how uncomfortable this gets, he isn't letting you stand alone in it.
He's never let Joseph disrespect you, and he wasn't going to start now.
"What was that LaToya said?" Joseph asks as he looks between the two of you.
"We got married last night," Michael says immediately.
There's no hesitation in the words, and although his voice is firm, you still hear the slight tremor underneath it because you know him too well not to. You can feel how hard his heart is beating against your back, even while he forces himself to stay steady under Joseph's stare.
"And what in your right mind made you do that?" Joseph asks.
"Why do people get married, Joseph?" you say before you can stop yourself. The words come out sharper than you intended, but once they're out, you don't regret them.
Joseph's eyes immediately snap toward you, his stare hard enough that most people in this house would've folded underneath it, but you don't look away. Your pulse jumps, but you hold his gaze anyway because you refuse to let him make this feel shameful.
"Oh, so you're pregnant? He don't got time to be a father right now," Joseph says. You scoff instantly, the accusation irritating enough to briefly overpower your nerves.
"She's not pregnant, Joseph. Rebbie, Tito, Jermaine, Jackie, and Marlon are all married. Rebbie, Jermaine, and Marlon were younger than we are when they got married," Michael says.
"And they were fools for that, too," Joseph snaps back. You roll your eyes immediately, frustration flashing hot through you as Michael's grip around you tightens slightly.
"And even if she were pregnant, I would make time to be a father and be there to care for my wife and our child," Michael says pointedly.
The words land heavily in the room, deliberate and unwavering, and despite the fear you can still feel running through him, there's something steadier underneath it now, too. Every time Joseph pushes, Michael seems to hold onto you harder, like defending this marriage is strengthening his resolve instead of weakening it.
Joseph takes another step further into the kitchen, and you feel Michael's body tense sharply against yours again. "You got something you want to say, boy?" Joseph asks.
The threat underneath the question is unmistakable, and you feel Michael instinctively straighten slightly behind you even while his body remains tense. Years of fear are still there; you can feel them, but so is something else now.
Defiance.
"This is a distraction, one you don't need. You need to be focused on this album," Joseph says. You shake your head immediately before Michael can even respond.
"Did you have this same conversation with Tito, Jackie, and Marlon, who are all also married and have children? Do you question their dedication to the album? Or is that only reserved for Michael?" you challenge.
Joseph looks directly at you, but this time he doesn't answer right away, because all three of you already know the truth. This was never really about marriage being a distraction.
It's about Michael: the money maker, the center of the Jackson family machine.
Softer footsteps sound in the hallway, a completely different rhythm from Joseph's heavy presence, and a second later, Katherine Jackson walks into the kitchen. The second she steps inside, she immediately feels the tension hanging in the room.
Her eyes move across all three of you quickly, taking everything in at once: Joseph standing rigid near the doorway, you pressed protectively against Michael, and the way Michael is trying so hard to look steady despite the fear still lingering tightly underneath his composure.
"Well, good morning, is everything alright?" Katherine asks.
Her voice is gentle, but there's caution beneath it now as she studies the room more carefully. She sees how intense Joseph looks, sees the way you and Michael are standing your ground while still visibly on edge beneath the pressure of the confrontation.
Joseph turns toward his wife sharply. "Your son ran off and got married over the weekend," Joseph snaps.
Katherine's eyes widen slightly at the words, genuine surprise flickering across her face before she settles herself almost immediately. Unlike Joseph, she doesn't react with anger first. Instead, her attention shifts directly to you and Michael, and when she starts walking toward you both slowly, your stomach tightens all over again.
Because her opinion matters more.
Joseph's anger is intimidating, but Katherine's disappointment would hurt.
You've always had a good relationship with Katherine. She's always treated you warmly, lovingly, like you already belonged here long before this. But you also know that being LaToya's best friend and Michael's girlfriend is very different from secretly eloping with her son without telling her.
Katherine reaches you both and gently takes your hand first before taking Michael's too, her touch calm and grounding as she examines the rings resting on both of your fingers. The kitchen stays painfully quiet while she looks at them, and you can feel your heartbeat pounding harder the longer she says nothing.
Then Katherine lets out a slow breath before lifting her eyes back to both of you.
"Are you two happy?" Katherine asks as she squeezes your hands.
The question catches you slightly off guard because it's so simple, not accusatory or angry, just honest. You nod immediately, and beside you, Michael nods too.
"We are. I'm sorry we didn't tell you so you could've come with us, Mother," Michael says.
There's guilt in his voice now, softer than before, because unlike with Joseph, this is someone whose feelings genuinely matter to him in a completely different way. Katherine nods slowly as she squeezes your hands again, and the tension in your chest tightens while you wait for her response.
"Thank you, baby... If you both are happy, then I am too," Katherine says.
The relief that rushes through you is so immediate it almost makes you dizzy, and you let out a breath you didn't even realize you'd been holding this entire time. Beside you, you feel Michael's body loosen slightly too, some of the tension finally easing from him for the first time since Joseph walked into the kitchen.
Katherine gently pulls you into a hug, then, sensing your nerves immediately and wanting to calm you down, the kindness of it almost overwhelms you after how tense the room has been.
"You've always been family sweetheart, from the first day LaToya introduced you to us... now it's just legally official," she says. Your eyes sting slightly at the softness in her voice, and you smile as you hug her back.
"Thank you, Momma Katie," you whisper to her.
"Katie, are you serious!?" Joseph snaps.
The sharpness of his voice cuts through the warmth of the moment immediately, but Katherine doesn't flinch. She slowly pulls away from the hug before turning to face her husband, and there's a calm steadiness in her expression that makes the contrast between them even more obvious.
"Five of our other children are married, Joseph... I don't see the issue," Katherine says.
The same point you made earlier. Why is Michael the one being singled out? But everyone in the room already knows the answer to that question, even if nobody says it out loud.
"So you're telling me you're okay with this?" Joseph asks.
"We'd be hypocrites not to be," Katherine says simply before she leaves the room.
The kitchen falls quiet again after she's gone, but the energy has shifted now. Joseph no longer has Katherine backing his anger, and all three of you know it.
Joseph looks directly at the two of you, his jaw tight with frustration, before he points a finger at Michael.
"You'd better stay sharp, boy," Joseph says before he storms out of the kitchen.
The second he's gone, you feel Michael loosen behind you almost immediately, like his body had been braced for impact the entire conversation and is only now allowing itself to breathe again.
You turn around right away and wrap your arms around his torso, laying your head against his chest as he hugs you close without hesitation, his arms tightening around you like he needs the comfort just as much as you do.
"Are you okay?" he asks. Your eyes soften. Even after all of that, he asks about you first.
You nod against him before lifting your head slightly. "Are you?" you ask.
Michael sighs softly before kissing the top of your head, lingering there for a second. "Always... I have you," he says. The words make your chest ache warmly because you know he means them completely. For all the fear Joseph still puts in him, Michael still chose this. He chose you.
But then his expression shifts slightly, some of the softness dimming as reality creeps back in again.
"But we all know why he wouldn't say why it's such a big deal for me to be married compared to everyone else... the money maker can't be distracted," Michael says.
You frown immediately at the bitterness underneath the words. "Stop that, Michael... you're more than that," you remind him.
He shrugs, but the movement feels heavier than casual indifference. "Not to him," he says.
Your heart twists painfully at how easily the words leave his mouth, like this belief has been carved so deeply into him that he doesn't even question it anymore. You shake your head immediately before lifting your head fully from his chest, so he has no choice but to look at you.
"But to me and everyone else, you're more... and you need to be more to yourself, too. What Joseph says isn't who you are. You determine who you are," you say.
Michael's eyes stay on yours the entire time, softer now, quieter, and after a second, he cups your cheeks gently in both hands before leaning down to kiss you.
The kiss is slow and grounding, nothing desperate about it, just warm and full of feeling as your hands settle against his torso while you kiss him back. When Michael finally pulls away, his thumb lightly trails across your jaw as he looks at you with that same softness that somehow never disappears, no matter how hard the world is on him.
"Right now, I'm more than happy being your husband," Michael says.
A smile immediately pulls across your face, and you lean in to give him another quick peck. "Goof," you say. Michael smiles.
You go back to cooking like you had been before you were interrupted, although the atmosphere in the kitchen feels different now. Softer again. Not completely untouched by what just happened, because you can still feel remnants of the tension lingering beneath the surface, especially in Michael, but lighter than before.
The normalcy of cooking helps. The sound of the pan, the smell of breakfast filling the kitchen again, the quiet domestic rhythm returning little by little, it settles both of you more than either of you says out loud.
Michael stays close the entire time.
Sometimes leaning against the counter beside you, sometimes brushing against your shoulder when he reaches for something, like after everything with Joseph, he doesn't quite want space between you right now. And honestly, neither do you.
Once everything is made and the two of you are finally settled at the table together, plates full in front of you, softer footsteps sound in the hallway again before LaToya and Janet come back into the kitchen.
"Are you guys okay? We heard Joseph yelling," LaToya says. There's genuine concern in her voice immediately, her eyes flicking between you and Michael as if checking for damage after the confrontation.
Michael nods. "Yeah, we're okay. Get some breakfast and join us," Michael says.
You smile and nod in agreement immediately, and the tension in the girls' shoulders visibly eases at the invitation. The normalness of it helps all of you, pretending for a little while that this is just another morning at Hayvenhurst instead of the morning after you secretly married Michael Jackson in Vegas.
LaToya and Janet move around the kitchen making their own plates from the breakfast you made: pancakes, bacon, eggs, toast, and of course, orange juice from the fridge because Michael loves orange juice and there is somehow always enough stocked in this house specifically for him.
The familiarity of all of it settles warmly around you. When the girls finally sit down, Janet looks at you and smiles, still clearly trying to process everything.
"So you two are really married?" she asks.
You nod immediately, unable to stop your own smile from spreading again at hearing someone say it out loud. "Yeah, is that okay with you?" you ask in a teasing tone.
Janet rolls her eyes slightly in that younger sibling way that immediately makes Michael laugh under his breath beside you. Janet is the baby of the family, adored by everyone in this house, but you know she's especially attached to Michael, LaToya, and Randy.
"Yeah, there are a lot of boys in this family, it's nice to have another girl," Janet says as she shrugs before starting to eat her food.
The answer makes you laugh immediately, and beside you, Michael laughs too, the sound softer and freer than it had been all morning. Even LaToya laughs, shaking her head affectionately at Janet while the heaviness from earlier continues easing little by little.
Then your attention shifts toward LaToya.
Your chest warms slightly just looking at her because you know none of this would exist without her. Without the sleepovers after school. Without years of friendship. Without her pulling you into this family long before you ever became Michael's wife.
Her opinion matters to you, too. "What about you, Toya?" you ask.
LaToya looks at you for exactly one second before laughing. "You've been my sister for over 10 years... I was just waiting on the two of you to catch up and make it official," LaToya says.
The words immediately make you and Michael look at each other at the same time before both of you quickly look away again, and the reaction only makes everyone laugh harder because it's obvious both of you are blushing now.
You can physically feel the heat in your cheeks, and beside you, Michael bites down on his lip shyly while reaching for his orange juice, clearly trying and failing to hide how flustered he is.
The four of you slowly settle into breakfast after that, eating and talking and laughing together while the girls tease both of you endlessly about secretly getting married without telling anyone. Every few minutes, Janet gasps dramatically about how offended she is that she didn't get to come to Vegas, while LaToya keeps pointing out how obvious it's been for years that the two of you were going to end up married anyway.
And little by little, the earlier tension with Joseph fades further into the background as you and Michael focus on the people at the table who are happy for you instead.
You did not doubt that the second LaToya and Janet went upstairs earlier, LaToya probably called every single one of their siblings and told them the news already, so you fully expected you'd be hearing from the rest of the Jackson family later.
But for now, sitting beside your husband while laughter fills the kitchen again, that future feels far enough away that you can let yourself enjoy this moment first.
────୨ৎ────
The moment comes sooner than expected.
One minute, you and Michael were upstairs in his room after cleaning up the kitchen from breakfast and getting ready for the day, enjoying the quiet little bubble you kept managing to find your way back into whenever you were alone together. The next minute, you're both seated in the living room with all of his siblings standing in front of the two of you, staring at your ringed fingers in varying levels of shock, disbelief, amusement, and excitement.
Apparently, LaToya's phone calls had worked fast.
The room is loud in that distinctly Jackson-family way, everyone talking over each other while simultaneously trying to process the fact that Michael, the shy, soft-spoken youngest brother they all still instinctively baby despite his fame, had secretly gone to Vegas and gotten married.
"Wait, so you're really married?" Marlon asks as his eyes bounce between your ring and Michael's again, like he's still trying to make it make sense.
"Yes," you say.
"Marriage license and everything?" Rebbie asks, and Michael laughs immediately beside you.
"Yes!" Michael says, smiling as he shakes his head, the disbelief in everyone else's reactions clearly entertaining him now that the initial stress of Joseph finding out has passed.
There's something lighter about him again, sitting here with his siblings. The tension that had wrapped itself tightly around him earlier is gone now, replaced by excitement and nervous happiness that keeps slipping out every time somebody calls you his wife.
"My god... who would've thought little Michael would sneak off to Vegas and elope," Jackie says.
The comment immediately makes everyone laugh because it's true. Out of all the Jackson siblings, Michael honestly might've been the last person anybody expected to secretly run away and get married. And of course, once all the siblings gathered downstairs, they made you and Michael tell the full story of how the marriage happened in the first place.
"Did Joseph have a heart attack?" Tito asks.
"Unfortunately not," you say.
That gets another round of laughter out of everyone, even Michael, who drops his head slightly as he laughs beside you while absently rubbing circles against the back of your hand with his thumb.
"Ya'll should've seen the way she stumped Joseph, too. She challenged him about why he was being so hard on me for getting married and not getting distracted from the group, but not the rest of you," Michael says as he gestures toward his brothers.
The second the words leave his mouth, all of their expressions shift slightly.
Their eyes widen as they look toward you because they all understand exactly what Joseph hadn't said out loud. None of them is confused about why Michael marrying young suddenly became such a catastrophe when several of them had done the exact same thing.
Because Michael isn't treated like the others.
"No way," Tito says.
Michael nods immediately, and there's something almost proud in the smile on his face as he looks over at you, like seeing you stand up for him against Joseph affected him more deeply than he's fully saying out loud.
"What did he say?" Marlon asks.
You laugh softly. "Nothing... granted, that was also when your mother walked into the room, but I don't think Joseph would've had a response either way," you say.
That gets another round of laughter from the siblings, though there's understanding underneath it too. They all know Joseph well enough to know you backed him into a corner with that question.
"Oh, god... Mother! How did she take it?" Rebbie asks. Michael's expression softens immediately at the mention of Katherine, and you feel his fingers tighten gently around yours before he answers.
"I think what upset her the most about it is that she wasn't there... and I did feel guilty about that, because it would've been wonderful to have Mother there... to have all of you there, really... but I also wanted this to be just us," Michael says as he squeezes your hand.
You look over at him immediately when he says it, warmth spreading through your chest all over again because you know exactly what he means. Vegas had been intimate and perfect and entirely yours in a way neither of you regretted, but that didn't mean you didn't love these people too.
"Michael, we understand, and we're happy for you... really. We all knew this was coming anyway," Jackie says with a smile. The sincerity in his voice visibly eases something in Michael again, and you can see it in the way his shoulders loosen slightly beside you.
"I was thinking about maybe doing another ceremony here... so all of you can attend," Michael says.
Immediately, his siblings' faces light up. The energy in the room shifts all over again, excitement replacing shock now as everyone starts reacting at once, already talking over each other about the idea before Michael turns toward you.
"And so your family can come too," he continues.
Your expression softens instantly at the thoughtfulness behind it. He already gave the two of you the intimate ceremony that belonged only to you both, but now he's thinking about everyone else too, about your mother getting to see you walk down an aisle, about Katherine getting to witness her son marry you properly, about your families getting to share in this happiness instead of only hearing about it afterward.
And honestly, the idea sounds perfect.
You smile while nodding your head. "That's a really good idea, Michael," you say with a smile.
Michael smiles too immediately, looking relieved and happy that you love the idea as much as he does, and he leans over to give you a quick kiss before standing up from the couch.
Almost instantly, his brothers surround him.
The room fills with teasing and congratulations as they start talking all over him, Tito clapping him on the shoulder while Marlon dramatically complains about not getting invited to Vegas. Michael laughs through all of it, smiling shyly but brighter than he has in days, and watching him like this: happy, relaxed, surrounded by people who genuinely love him, makes something warm settle deeply in your chest.
Meanwhile, the girls move over to join you on the couch.
Janet immediately curls up beside you and looks up at you expectantly. "Can I be a flower girl?" Janet asks. You laugh immediately, the request so earnest and hopeful that it's impossible not to smile wider.
"Janet, you're almost a teenager, wouldn't you rather be a bridesmaid instead?" you ask.
Janet's eyes widen instantly before a huge smile spreads across her face. "Really?" she asks.
You laugh again while nodding.
"Of course," you say before turning toward Rebbie. "I was wondering if maybe Stacee would be the flower girl, and you would be another bridesmaid?" you ask.
Rebbie's expression softens immediately at the suggestion. Rebbie has two daughters, and Marlon has one too, but Rebbie's younger daughter and Marlon's daughter are still toddlers, whereas Stacee is seven now, old enough to actually understand what being the flower girl means.
And judging by the emotional look on Rebbie's face, she already knows Stacee is going to lose her mind with excitement. Rebbie smiles immediately, warmth spreading across her face in a way that softens the last of the lingering tension from the morning.
"Of course, we'd both be honored," she says.
The sincerity in her voice makes your chest warm because there isn't even a second of hesitation in her response. Just love.
Then LaToya clears her throat dramatically from beside you, and when you turn toward her, she's already giving you a teasing look that immediately makes you laugh because you know exactly what she's about to say.
"You forget about me?" LaToya asks.
You laugh immediately, reaching for her hand. "How could I forget about the person who brought me into this family? I need you as my Maid of Honor," you say.
The reaction is immediate.
LaToya's eyes instantly water before she throws her arms around you, hugging you tightly enough that you laugh softly against her shoulder. The emotion catches up to her quickly, and honestly, it catches up to you, too. Because she really did bring you here. None of this would exist without her inviting you over all those years ago, without childhood sleepovers turning into family dinners and movie nights, and eventually falling in love with her little brother without even realizing when it happened.
Then suddenly, all the girls are hugging you.
Janet practically launches herself into the embrace while Rebbie wraps her arms around both of you, too, and for a moment, you're surrounded by warmth and perfume and overlapping laughter as they hold onto you tightly as if you've officially become something that, truthfully, you've already been to them for years.
"I know we have four other sisters-in-law... but you're our favorite," Janet says.
The comment immediately makes all four of you burst into laughter, loud enough that it echoes through the living room, and you barely even notice Michael turning around. The second he sees the three of his sisters wrapped around you while you hold onto them just as tightly, his entire expression softens.
Something emotional flashes across his face so quickly and openly, because to him, this means everything.
It makes his heart clench with love and adoration watching all of you together like this, watching the people he loves most seamlessly wrapping themselves around each other, and in that moment, he feels overwhelmingly grateful that you and LaToya became friends all those years ago and that she brought you home for a sleepover.
His life wouldn't have been the same without that moment. Without you.
For a second, he just stands there watching you quietly while his brothers continue talking around him, his gaze fixed entirely on you with that same softness that always appears whenever he looks at you for too long. Then Tito nudges him hard enough to pull him back into the conversation, making Michael laugh under his breath before his brothers immediately drag him back into whatever teasing they'd been doing before.
Meanwhile, the girls slowly pull away from the hug, though everyone still stays crowded close together on the couch.
"We've also never seen Michael this happy since before all the fame," LaToya says.
The words hit you quietly but deeply.
Your eyes soften immediately because you remember that conversation with Michael perfectly. The night he admitted how lonely he felt, how isolating all of this had become despite constantly being surrounded by people. You remember the exhaustion in his voice when he told you how fame made him feel loved by everyone and truly known by almost nobody.
And you remember the way he looked at you after telling you that, like you were the first place he'd felt understood in a very long time. You had made that loneliness better for him.
Not the fame, not the success, and not music. You.
The realization settles heavily and warmly inside your chest as you sit there surrounded by his family's love and acceptance, and for the first time since Joseph walked into that kitchen earlier, you let yourself fully settle into the fact that this is real.
You're his wife.
And despite the fear and tension and uncertainty, you were grateful to be here now, sitting in this living room surrounded by people who genuinely loved both of you.
You weren't going to let Joseph bring you down.
He didn't intimidate you before, and he wasn't going to start now, and more than that, you weren't going to sit back and let him continue controlling Michael through fear either.
Before, you had just been LaToya's best friend and Michael's girlfriend. Back then, there had always been a line you didn't feel entitled to cross, moments where you bit your tongue because this wasn't technically your family, and you didn't feel like you had the right to step fully into those confrontations.
But things were different now. Now you were Michael's wife, and you weren't going to tolerate Joseph's treatment of him anymore. Not quietly. Not while watching the man you love slowly convince himself he's only valuable when he's performing for somebody else.
Your thoughts break apart when you look up and catch Michael turning around across the room. The second your eyes meet, his expression softens all over again, and he lets out a slow, contented breath before smiling at you.
"I love you," he mouths silently. The words make warmth bloom through your chest instantly.
You smile back at him immediately. "I love you more," you mouth back.
Michael's smile widens in that shy, boyish way that still somehow makes your heart race after all these years, and he ducks his head slightly while his brothers immediately start teasing him for smiling at you like that.
The rest of the afternoon passes wrapped in warmth and noise and laughter.
You spend hours with Michael's siblings talking, playing games, and teasing each other while plans for the second ceremony slowly begin forming around all of you, naturally. Janet becomes deeply invested in bridesmaid dresses within ten minutes, LaToya immediately starts talking about decorations, and Rebbie starts mentally organizing family logistics before anyone even asks her to.
And sitting there beside your husband while the people you both love surround you, you realize the second ceremony will be different from Vegas. The first wedding had belonged only to the two of you, and this one would be filled with just as much love as the first.
Only this time, it would also be filled with family.
︎DISCLAIMER: This fanfiction is about a real person in a fictional scenario. This is a purely creative work and is not meant to offend, or make anyone uncomfortable.
TW: FLUFF
A/N: I'm sorry if I didn't fill your request right and I feel like I spaced it weirdly 💔
Michael thought he would only see you once or twice knowing his brother's reputation. He never thought he'll see you at the family cookout or pool party helping in the kitchen. Stopping kids from running in and out with water dripping off them.
Michael never thought you were to be the first to hand him a plate packed with the food you and Jackie helped make possible. "Here ya go Mikey eat up." you spoke continuously with a patient and light tone that he first thought was for show.
Michael never thought you would be the one to yell at his brother's when they joked about his appearance. "Now you guys quit! You got no right to talk about his acne when you got stuff bigger then bubbles on ya back! Yeah, I saw 'em"
"C'mon girl you didn't have to tell the whole world!" Jermaine stormed off to his room.
"You okay Mikey?"
"Yea, thanks..."
Michael never thought you'll be the first to jump up from your spot on Jackie's chest when he asked to play a game. Or you'll chase him around the house during tag and tickle him with giggles in unison.
"You got me! You got me!"
"Gotta say uncle Mikey c'mon you can say it!"
"Unc—aight uncle!"
Michael never thought during a terrible thunderstorm that his feet would patter their way into the room that occupied Jackie and you. Or that he would tug on the sweatshirt you 'borrowed' from his brother, waking you up with a harsh tug from another violent thunder clap.
Spending the rest of night downstairs in the kitchen fixing up sundaes and falling asleep on the couch. No, he never thought of such things!
Michael never thought he'll see you in front of the pens that hold his animals in the middle of the night, pale bucket to Louie's mouth.
"What're you doing?!" He rushed over grabbing your wrist in panic as the bucket spilt over. Animal feed spilling at your feet. "Mikey! I'm sorry... I just thought since you've been busy with rehearsal and whatnot I could feed 'em..." you look guilty, like you crossed a unspoken line with him.
"I should be sorry. Grabbing you like that..."
"Its just nobody else tries to feed my animals"
"If your worried about me doing anything I wouldn't dare!"
"I know. Here's a new bucket... for spilling yours."
Michael never thought you'll take every chance to stand on the left wing of stage during his performances. Cheesing, cheering and clapping along to his voice that made him push himself—impossibly—more to hear your voice.
Stepping backstage where they were congratulating, Michael ignored it all. Watching you spread your arms wide he—still filled with adrenaline—rammed his body into yours "Mama did you hear me! That was—"
"Mama?"
"Michael did you just call my fiancée, Mama?"
"I think he did!"
"Can't blame him, she practically babied him to adulthood!" His brother's teased, poking at him as he hid his face in his hands. Face turning ablaze, "oh jeez..." he muttered with a shake in his voice from hitting notes
"Stop teasing! I'm fine by it Michael."
"Mikey..."
"Pardon?"
If I call you Mama... you gotta call me Mikey from now on."
"Awe here 'dey go again being all family!"
Taglist for this fic: @a-motherfcking-fish @agustdpeach @dhctonight
