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˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Loveaffaire’s Navigation

— Hi, lovies. Here you’ll find anything and everything you might be looking for. Enjoy your stay!

PS. Currently only writing for Michael Jackson.

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© loveaffaire

[loveaffaire]

A Scandal Waiting to Happen - II

Pairing: Mature!Michael Jackson x Younger!Popstar!Reader

Summary: Michael is smitten by the 25 year old rising popstar who refuses to be tied down and he's tired of pretending he's okay with being 'just fun’. So when a televised interview reminds Michael exactly where he stands in your life, he takes a different route to change your mind.

Warnings/tags: mature!michael, younger!popstar!reader, slight angst, slight fluff, pining and yearning by Michael hehe, jealous!michael, smut, mention of fingering and oral (f receiving), just outright badly written smut Imao, MINORS DNI

Word count: 1.8k

A/N: let’s pretend this isn’t a repost because my tags messed up lol rip hopefully this shows up in tags sorry oof.

I was not planning to write this but by popular demand, I HAD TO! Especially @equallyshaw who requested this in my inbox, I see you mwah mwah.

Reading the first part is kinda optional but you could if you wanna know their dynamic a bit more!

Disclaimer: Image used is intended solely to convey the reader's aesthetic, style, overall vibe and is not meant to represent the reader's ethnicity or physical appearance.

Part | | Michael Jackson Masterlist

It happened slowly but surely, Michael started realising how much he actually liked you.

He loved when you would perform for him a song of yours in the bedroom like it was his own private concert and how you'd help him pick out which jacket to wear for an event. It would make him laugh when you'd say "toodles" and blow a kiss his way when you'd be leaving. He loved when you'd text him and say things like "c u 18er" which would leave him confused because he is already bad at technology and you didn't make it any easier for him.

God, he was infatuated with you.

You were on TV, at Hollywood Access, giving an interview. It was live and Michael made sure to clear his schedule so he could tune in.

They played a short clip of you performing on the stage at the Grammy Awards. You were in your classic glittery dress and boots, swaying your body to the music and finishing the performance by winking directly at the camera.

"That's Grammy winner for the Best New Artist of the year, everybody!" the host presented you as you entered the room waving at the audience with a bright smile on your face.

The interview went like a breeze, talking about songwriting and performing. Michael was fully focused on you, he loved how passionately you talked about your art.

In the last segment of the interview, the conversation shifted to the hectic concert schedule and with that, the conversation had quickly turned to your personal life.

"With this hectic schedule, you must be finding it hard to date, huh?" The interviewer asked swiftly with a twinkle in his eyes like he was trying to find some dirt on you.

You laughed, "I date, sure"

"Anyone you're dating at the moment?"

"Nope" you shook your head, keeping your answers as short as possible to keep the light off your dating life.

Michael's heart fluttered when you said that, his arms instantly went around his own body, his hands rubbing up and down his biceps like a kid trying to soothe his pain.

"Not thinking about setting down any time soon, I see," the interviewer laughed.

You laughed with him, "settle down? geez, no chance," you pulled your hands up in a surrendering motion as a joke.

The audience laughed.

Michael, sitting at home and staring at your face on the TV, didn't.

You had made it clear to Michael several times that you and him were not dating. The arrangement was simple, it was just sex. Just fun.

But Michael couldn't help getting attached, he was old fashioned after all. He knew the 20 year age gap between you and him was also a huge factor in this situation but somewhere inside, he felt like you rejected him because you didn't like him enough.

A shiver ran down his spine as he turned the TV off and sat on the couch for a moment. He already knew you didn't want commitment but hearing you tell the entire world that there's 'no chance' for settling down after he's privately asked for more, quite a few times, makes the rejection feel very public.

Three days later, you came over at Michael's with a box of 6 red velvet cupcakes in hand. You walked through the hall giving the security guards a warm smile as you entered the dining room.

Michael was sitting on the overly decorated, gold painted chair at the dining table, something that made you laugh but you also found it quite endearing how he acted like a king even when no one else was watching.

He looked up at you but didn't smile, however you did catch the soft happiness seeping through and washing over his face when he found you at the door. Almost like he was relieved.

"Hi, my baby" you greeted him, you were cheeky like that. Calling Michael 'my baby' like the devil you are while you played around with his fragile, little heart.

It made his heart flutter nonetheless.

Before you could get another word out, he slammed the newest edition of US Weekly magazine on the table. Right beside your box of cupcakes, how rude.

You frowned as you read the words on the cover which were tugged in a little corner on the left - GRAMMY GIRL'S NEW MAN? Singer Spotted Cozying Up to Hollywood Heartthrob!

"Thought you were too young to settle down?" Michael said sarcastically, "no chance?"

He was dramatic but god, he was devastated.

You laughed, "are you seriously reading some tabloid shit? Haven't you been through enough tabloid headlines yourself to understand that these things are not real?"

You took a bite of the cupcake, unaware of the jealousy brewing inside Michael. He didn't give a fuck that it was a tabloid magazine, there was literally a picture of you with this random "heartthrob' and it made Michael's eyes roll.

"There's literally a picture of you right there" he pointed.

"Michael" you said, almost like you're talking to a baby, "do you have something going on with everyone you're pictured with?"

That made Michael pause and he realised how ridiculous he sounded accusing you of something just because a tabloid magazine said it.

I shouldn't do this, not when l've been through so much tabloid gossip myself, Michael thought to himself.

You sighed, taking his silence and the blank look on his face as a sign to not joke with him anymore.

You plopped down on his lap, taking him by surprise. You gently pushed back on his shoulders so he was resting on the back of the chair, "I'm not dating this guy, we were just at the party and happened to leave together"

"For our separate places, that's all" you quickly added, realising how your first sentence sounded.

The sincerity in your voice eased Michael's worries. He simply nodded and a small smile found its way on his lips.

Your heart squeezed, no matter how much you tried to not get attached, you kind of were. You were not all stone cold like how you pretended to be. If nothing at all, one thing you knew for sure was that you cared deeply for Michael. You could see he was lonely, he needed love and searched for it everywhere but you weren't sure if you could be someone who could provide that for him.

You softly touched the cupcake to his lips, the frosting sticking to his lips before he could open his mouth to take a bite. You softly giggled and licked the corner of his mouth to clean the frosting which made him groan.

He grabbed your thigh and his lips all puckered up, moved to follow your face for a kiss.

Goddamn, he was whipped.

"Let's get you to bed" he almost moaned, moving to stand up with you in his arms.

"It's 9am" you laughed as he picked you up anyway, feet quick to reach his bedroom where he practically threw you on the bed before locking his door.

He swiftly pulled your body towards himself, at the corner of the bed. Kissing you, he was relentless. Huge hands roaming your body like he was an animal and you were his prey.

"We're having dinner tonight," he stated plainly, a little breathless from the kisses but determined.

"Oh, is that so?" You asked sarcastically, not really caring for the content of the conversation because you were too focused on the dent in his pants that was now visible and pressing on your inner thigh.

He hummed and it wasn't long before he had already made you cum once with his fingers and once with his mouth, he believed as a man it was his duty to keep his woman satisfied.

You were his woman.

With his cock moving at a gentle pace inside you, you felt warm - almost cosy. The position was missionary, Michael's favourite because he could hold you close in his arms while he looked at your flushed face.

"You wanna cum?" He asked, scanning your face as your eyes fluttered from how sensitive you were and how good he felt.

"Yes, please" you gasped as he picked up his pace.

One of his arms wrapped around your waist holding you closer to his torso and another grabbed the back of your neck.

"Then say yes" he moaned, his own climax almost reaching him but he wasn't done yet.

"What?" You were confused and the bubbling orgasm in the pit of your stomach didn't help.

"You will go out to dinner with me tonight" he grunted.

It was an order, him asking for your agreement was merely a courtesy. You knew it.

You didn't say anything, eyes on the ceiling and too focused on your orgasm but your eyes quickly snapped at Michael when he started slowing down. You whined and grabbed his shoulders, "don't stop"

"Say yes then," he gasped, picking up his pace again.

"I'm close" you gasped, digging your nails in the flesh of his biceps.

Michael, being the asshole he is, slowed down again and this time, you almost cried out, "what is your problem!?" You yelled.

"You know what I want to hear," he stated plainly, he bit his lip so he wouldn't end up smiling because honestly, he was enjoying this way too much.

"Yes," you said, motioning for him to start moving.

"Yes?" Michael asked with a smile on his face now, positioning himself in a more comfortable way because oh boy, he was gonna give you that orgasm now.

You nodded and that was Michael's signal to push you over the edge as he picked up his speed. His mouth met yours in a feverish kiss.

"Yes" you moaned, your eyes tightly shut, "yes please"

You didn't know what you were saying yes for, the date or the orgasm but you didn't care. Michael however, was bubbling up with excitement which only made him go quicker as you gasped and clawed at the satin bedsheet under yourself when you reached your peak.

He came quickly after, gasping in your mouth and holding you even closer if it was even possible.

As he pulled back and looked at your face, your eyes droopy from bliss and satisfaction, Michael stared at you for a moment after you said yes like he couldn't quite believe he'd heard you correctly.

For months, he'd accepted every excuse, every deflection, every reminder that you weren't looking for anything serious. Yet somehow, here you were.

The corner of his mouth lifted into a smile so genuine it made your chest ache. He reached for your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours as though afraid you might change your mind.

Maybe you would. Maybe this was a terrible idea.

But as Michael brought your hand to his lips to softly kiss your fingertips, you found that for the first time, you didn’t really care.

Not a tag list but I'm tagging some people who commented on the last part just cause (let me know if you don't want to be tagged, l'Il remove you!) - @alexandrajsworld @milfslut @applehead-archive @soberrydelicious @mjscutiefor4ver @ssluutofmanyyy @equallyshaw @victoriarosaline @xoxogossipgirl02

Maybe I can make an official taglist for this 'series' if yall are interested? ;) [please make sure you have your settings on for tagging]

© loveaffaire

[loveaffaire]

Not me having to literally delete a fic because the tags fucked up… I hate everything

[loveaffaire]

Can you make a series of a scandal waiting to happen?

Not sure if I can label it as series but I will be writing more for mature!michael x younger!popstar!reader!!

I’m gonna publish a ‘part 2’ in a couple hours (hopefully) :)

And I might also write blurbs for this couple!

[loveaffaire]

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ MICHAEL JACKSON MASTERLIST

Last updated: 9th June 2026, all my fanfics are in order of newest to oldest.

Some work might contain NSFW themes such as slight smut/ mentions of sex and have been marked the same, minors DNI with NSFW.

Important note: I will never ever mention the skin tone, hair colour, eye colour or any other ethnic features of the reader. EVER. I might use pictures to show the outfit or the vibe of the reader (just like I do with Michael’s pictures) but never put an ethnic label on them!!

-Please do not repost my work anywhere even if you give me credit, I do not want my work distributed but reblogs/ feedback is always appreciated ♡

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ A Scandal Waiting to Happen: At 45, Michael should know better than to become obsessed with the 25 year old rising popstar. He does know better but that doesn’t stop him.

Mature!michael, popstar!reader, a huge age gap, the reader kinda doesn’t give a shit about him lol, A LOT of suggestive content, some explicit stuff like thigh riding, blowjob, mentions of sex. MINORS DNI!!

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Obsessed: Michael is obsessed with his little sister, Janet's best friend and he feels guilty, he swears but he can't help it.

Shy!thriller!michael, some fluff, suggestive content, mention of oral s*x and f*ngering, the reader is bold and confident. MINORS DNI.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ The Price of Fame: Paparazzi and tabloid newspapers, two of the worst things you can deal with in the 90s... especially when you're the King of Pop's wife.

Angst, crying sobbing yelling reader, distressed Michael, paparazzi and tabloid gossip mention (ew), some fluff but mostly angst.

[loveaffaire]

A Scandal Waiting to Happen

Pairing: Mature!Michael Jackson x Popstar!Reader

Summary: At 45, Michael should know better than to become obsessed with the 25 year old rising popstar.

He does know better but that doesn’t stop him.

Warnings/tags: mature!michael, popstar!reader, a huge age gap, jealous!michael istg, the reader kinda doesn’t give a shit about him lol, A LOT of suggestive content, some explicit stuff like thigh riding, blowjob, mentions of sex. MINORS DNI!!

Word count: 1k+

A/N: I am obsessed with obsessed!michael and anything with him being absolutely psychotic about the reader, add an age gap between them and it’s a dream oof.

Ps. I know the picture is of a white female with blonde hair (hello Sabrina) but nowhere have I mentioned the ethnicity of the female lead!! I just wanted to let you know the vibe of the popstar persona of the reader, she’s slutty and a tease lol

Previous one shot here

The first time Michael saw you was in a teen magazine that Paris showed him.

She pointed at a picture of you on page 25 of teen vogue.

Michael wore his glasses and read the headline which said something about you being nominated for Best New Artist at this year’s Grammys.

In the picture, you were on the stage in your short, glittery dress with a heart cutout in the middle of your chest, gorgeous hair, pink shiny makeup and knee high boots. Michael’s mouth fell open a little, he would have started drooling if Paris wasn’t there and ranting about how pretty she thinks you are.

Then he read your age in the article… 25.

His eyes widened when he realised that he had already released his acclaimed album, Off The Wall and was set to release Thriller which would later be known as the highest selling album of all time, before you were even born.

Michael slowly closed the magazine and tried to focus on his daughter who was going on and on and on about you knowing fully well that later he’d be cutting that picture out and putting it on his mirror. He truly did believe in manifestations.

That was a month ago.

Since then, he has always coincidentally found his way to you at every award show and event. Eyes on you all the way to the open bar where he would find a way to accidentally bump into you.

He would shamelessly flirt with you, making his intentions clear as hell. The way he looked you up and down made a shiver run down your spine. This was the King of Pop standing in front of you.

“I’m 25” you stated plainly.

“I’m 45” he stated, a wicked smile on his face.

Michael felt overly confident talking to you, you were his junior and he thought that had an effect or it was just that his crush had taken over so powerfully that he had become shameless.

You softly giggled, taking a sip of your cosmopolitan.

“I think you should come over,” he said, “to meet Paris, my daughter,” he added quickly.

You smiled, “I think I should”

And you did. To meet Paris? No, the satin sheets on Michael’s bed under your bare skin told a whole different story.

You had to admit, you were a bit of a slut and loved the attention so of course you fell in the King of Pop’s bed. In your defence, he was very sweet about it and talked you into it.

Since then it had been nothing but hiding, teasing and sex. And oh, the sex.

Michael should have known that this is a scandal waiting to happen, a horrible idea, a secret so intense that if the media got a hold on it, he would be called a creepy old pervert all over the world.

But he just can’t help it.

He loved how confident you were, oh so sweet but oh so dangerously provocative. Both of you knew you weren’t dating each other, you had bluntly said no when he asked and made your intentions clear.

“Let me take you out on a date” he said as he sat bare chested on the bed playing with your hair.

“No,” you said, not a hint of hesitation in your tone. You rolled your body and got off the bed to put on your clothes.

Michael was taken aback when you said that which was clear by the expression on his face. But you didn’t care, you were only 25 and too media trained for this bullshit. You were an up and coming artist and you knew the media would tear you apart if they got even a scent of what was going on here. Nothing was going to stand in your way, not even the King himself.

So yes, you both knew you weren’t dating and yet, you loved making him jealous. Publicly flirting with other celebrities, going on dates but never confirming your relationships to the media, hushed rumours of some British actor leaving your house at 4am would reach Michael’s ears on a random Tuesday and it would drive him insane.

The very next day, he’d be picking you up from the studio unannounced with a stern look on his face.

Best believe he’d make his jealousy known when he’d force you into his lap, ride up your mini skirt and make you rub your cunt all over his very expensive formal pants just so he could hear you moan his name over and over again.

In other scenarios, he was old fashioned and knew you two weren’t together but that didn’t stop him from calling you up personally on your landline and making his displeasure known about your extremely low tube top you wore one night when you went to a party where paparazzi were present.

“Your breasts were basically falling out of your top” he expressed concern.

You scoffed, “right, okay dad”

You could basically feel him roll his eyes on the other side, “you will not wear it again” he said firmly.

You conveniently pulled the telephone cord and went to sleep.

Who was he trying to tell you what to wear and what not to wear?

Michael picks you up from practice the next day like he would every time he’d be upset with you, like clockwork.

He would pull you into him as soon as the car door would slam behind you. Your hands instantly find his belt buckle and take his cock out.

“I can’t believe you cut my call last night” he said breathless between kisses.

“You are not—” you paused and wrapped your hand around his cock, “my boyfriend so I don’t have to listen to you”

“Let me take you out,” he almost pleaded, crying out when your hand swiftly went up and down on him.

You pulled back from his face and looked at him for a second. His cheeks were flushed red, mouth ajar, lips wet with your kisses and you almost said yes.

But where is the fun in that?

“No” you smiled and lowered your face to his cock with your eyes still locked to his.

He groaned and threw his head back in pleasure as you slowly took him in your mouth.

He hated you for rejecting him and it just made him want you even more. He wanted you to be his but he had decided that until you say yes, he’ll settle for the hiding, the teasing and the sex, oh the sex.

A/N: Suggestive content is much more hotter than the actual smut stuff to me, SORRYYY.

Liking/commenting/reblogs really helps so please feel free to let me know how you liked it. My inbox is also open to feedback!! Bye bye.

© loveaffaire

[loveaffaire]

Obsessed

Pairing: Michael Jackson x Reader

Summary: Michael is obsessed with you and you know it all too well.

Or where Michael sucks at hiding his tiny (gigantic) crush on you and you have fun with it.

Warnings/tags: shy!thriller!michael, some fluff, suggestive content, mention of oral s*x, f*ngering, the reader is bold and confident. MINORS DNI.

Word count: 800+

A/N: Wanted to write something short and sweet after the last long ass one shot I posted lmao. Reblogs and feedback is GREATLY appreciated!!

Previous one shot.

Michael was obsessed with you.

His obsession was so intense that it scared him.

He loved how your skin glistened in the sunlight, how your hair fell down your back, how your nails were always polished pink, how you smelled like vanilla every time you walked past him, how your gloss was always intact on your lips.

He dreamt about smudging it. With his fingers, his lips.

He knew he was gone the second you had walked through Hayvenhurst’s door hand in hand with Janet, giggling about something together.

He felt guilty for fantasising about his little sister’s best friend but he couldn’t help it. He was mesmerised by your smile, your scent, your eyes. He was obsessed.

It wasn’t long before you caught onto his little crush. He barely ever had the courage to lock eyes with you but you still caught him staring one too many times.

“I like your sweater”

Michael froze, he recognised the sound of your voice. Velvet.

He slowly turned around and saw you taking out a tub of ice cream from the fridge. He had sneaked into the kitchen to make himself a sandwich at 1am.

“We are watching a movie” you said, a wicked smile on your lips, “Janet and I”

You knew you had him in a chokehold when you saw the look in his big bambi eyes. This was the first conversation and his face was pale, oh he was starstuck.

“You don’t speak?” you laughed softly.

Michael cleared his throat then, “I do”

He internally giggled at the words that just left his mouth, god knows he was already writing his wedding vows in his little notebook that was tucked away under his pillows.

“Good, someone’s gotta sing” you smiled, leaving the kitchen. You didn’t look behind but you knew he was looking at you.

This first encounter was 3 weeks ago. Long, painful 3 weeks for Michael. Small talks were made but he was always at a loss of words when he would converse with you.

You teased him a lot. Wearing short skirts whenever you visited Janet, biting your lips mid conversation with Michael, complimenting his hair. You mostly did it because it made his checks red and because you enjoyed making him stumble over his words, a broken ‘thank you’ leaving his mouth with every flirty compliment you passed on.

“I thought you liked me” you said, once again crossing paths with Michael in the kitchen in the middle of the night.

“I do” he said quickly, almost dropping the bread.

“Then why haven’t you asked me out yet?”

The question caught him off guard. His mouth opened but no words escaped it.

You slowly walked over to him, biting your lips making him melt. He was a puddle in your hand.

“I think you should take me out to dinner” you stated softly, your eyes flickering to his lips just for a second.

“Please” he whispered.

You raised your eyebrows, a confused look on your face.

“I mean, yes, yes I will” he said, straightening up his posture.

He was red in the face, short of breath and his palms were sweaty. He wanted to die, in your arms.

The first date was now 5 weeks ago. Lovely, blissful 5 weeks for Michael.

And you.

Sneaking around, hand in hand, running up the stairs so no one can see you two together. Soft kisses pressed against your lips, giggles passing mouth to mouth.

He loved the way you held him, the way you touched him, the way you kissed him. He was shy but needy. Timid but whiny. Needed you to guide him but as soon as he was hot enough, he would relish you.

He was gentle and generous, would make you cum with his mouth before you would even have the chance to unbuckle his belt.

He was possessive. No one knew you were with your best friend’s older brother so every time you came over to meet Janet, all the other Jackson brothers would come by and say hello in the most flirty way.

Michael hated it. He made sure you knew who you belonged to that very night.

“Why can’t we tell them” he whined as his fingers softly brushed your entrance.

He had almost started crying when you entered his room. He hated his brothers for flirting with you and he hated the fact that he couldn’t tell them to back off.

Before you could answer, his fingers were dipping in you. And they were rough, he wanted you bad.

“You’re mine” he said through clenched teeth as his eyes watered from frustration, almost making it sound like a threat.

You held his face in your palm, your thumb quick to wipe the tear that escaped his waterline, “I’m yours, Michael” you breathed out, struggling to keep up because that’s just how good his fingers felt inside you.

As you threw your head back, he realised that he loved the way you moaned his name like it was a prayer. You were his goddess and your body a religion that he worshiped every chance he got.

God, he truly was obsessed.

A/N: wanted to make this a blur with like 500 words and it still stretched out to 800+ words oof.

If you liked this, please consider reblogging/liking/commenting below, it really helps! :)

Also, I’m looking for my MJ moots so you know what to do mwah mwah

Thank you so much <3

© loveaffaire

[loveaffaire]

The Price of Fame

Pairing: Michael Jackson x Reader

Summary: Paparazzi and tabloid newspapers, two of the worst things you can deal with in the 90s… especially when you’re the King of Pop’s wife.

Or where you marry Michael Jackson after 7 months of dating secretly and are suddenly thrust into a world of paparazzi, rumors and relentless public scrutiny. As the media tears your life apart piece by piece, both you and Michael are forced to confront the cost of loving the most famous man in the world.

Warnings/tags: you are Michael’s wife ok, angst, crying sobbing yelling reader, distressed Michael, paparazzi and tabloid gossip mention (ew), some fluff but mostly angst.

Word count: 2.5k

A/N: first Michael Jackson fic, please be kind. I had 90s Michael in mind when I wrote this but you can imagine any era!! Also, reblogs and feedback is GREATLY appreciated!!

Falling in love with Michael Jackson had been the easy part but surviving the world’s reaction to it was something else entirely.

You had only been dating for 7 months when Michael popped the “will you marry me” question. Actually, it was less of a question and more like an order that he blurted out because he was so nervous, he could hardly breathe.

“You will marry me” his mouth fell open as the words escaped his lips, even he was weirded out.

“What?” your eyes bulging out, you couldn’t believe what just happened. You thought you were here for a movie night.

“I’m sorry, I meant that- I mean- I guess what I’m trying to say is—” he stumbled all over his words, red in the face.

You said no, you thought the whole thing was a bit ridiculous. You knew Michael was impulsive and you believed this was something he was rushing into. As much as you loved him, the 7 months with him where you’ve successfully invaded the media were blissful and you couldn’t imagine going public with him. That is what being married to Michael Jackson meant. You knew that, very well.

There was a lot of back and forth after that. Janet called, she knew how in love Michael was with you. She told you that he wasn’t sleeping enough, nor was he eating enough now that you were gone.

Your heart broke, you could picture it so clearly.

Michael sitting alone in a room much too large for one person. Half-finished meals abandoned on tables. Long nights spent pacing instead of sleeping. His stubborn refusal to take care of himself whenever something upset him.

You hated that you knew him well enough to imagine every detail.

For weeks, you ignored his calls.

Then you listened to his voicemails.

Then you listened to them again.

And again. And again.

By the end of the month, you could practically recite them from memory.

“I miss you.”

“Please call me.”

“I just want to hear your voice.”

Each message sounded a little more tired than the last. And from then on, it wasn’t long until you realised that you missed him too. So so desperately.

Shades over your eyes even though it was a rainy day. White flowers in hand, you gripped them so tightly that the stems were ready to break at any moment. When your car reached the gates of Neverland Ranch, the guard recognized you instantly. No questions asked. No phone calls made. He simply opened the gates, as if he’d been expecting you.

The house came into view and suddenly every reason you had given yourself for leaving felt smaller than the one big reason you had come back for.

You stepped out of the car and took a shaky breath.

The guard near the main entrance opened the door for you, a soft smile on his face made you roll your eyes. As you walked down the long hallway, your heart beat so fast that you thought it’ll break your ribcage.

You saw Tarry, Michael’s bodyguard near the living room and he looked almost relieved to see you. You didn’t have to ask him to take you to Michael, he just started walking and you followed.

When you entered the room, Michael was there facing the TV screen which wasn’t even turned on, he was completely zoned on.

“Michael” you said softly, almost like a whisper.

It was at that moment that you almost saw his ears perked up, like a little dog.

He shifted his whole body on the couch towards the sound of your voice and his eyes immediately started watering.

In no time he was up from his seat and you were in his arms, with his hands up in your hair and his mouth going aggressively against yours like he couldn’t breathe without your kisses. The flowers were pressed between your bodies and possibly ruining your simple white dress but you didn’t care.

“Yes” you whispered against his lips.

“What?” He asked, gently pulling his face away from yours so he could see you clearly.

“I will marry you” you sighed softly as the words left your lips, you were not going to stay away from him anymore and you just confirmed it.

“Are you serious?” he cried, trying to catch his breath between the kisses he wouldn’t stop giving you.

“I wore a white dress for you” you stated the obvious with a breathy laugh, pushing his face away so he could see your dress.

You wiped his tears away, a small smile finding a way to his face as he looked down at your body.

On the same day, he got your apartment wiped clean, everything you owned was packed in boxes and it was immediately shipped to his place.

Something something about never letting you leave again, he said.

The very next day, with a private ceremony held at the Neverland Ranch with just you and Michael, you became Mrs. Jackson.

❥ ‑‑‑‑

The people who knew could be counted on two hands. It was just his family, your family and a few trusted friends. No paparazzi photos. No leaked stories. No grainy snapshots sold to tabloids.

Just the two of you.

Then came the announcement.

A week after the wedding, Michael’s PR team released a short statement to the press.

Michael Jackson is pleased to confirm that he has recently married. He and his wife are requesting privacy and request the media to respect their personal lives during this time.

That was it.

No wedding photographs. No interviews. No mention of your name. No mention of who you were.

The world lost its mind.

Within hours, every major entertainment outlet was running the story. Television anchors interrupted regular programming to discuss it like it was breaking news (it was).

Newspapers printed special editions and radio hosts debated it on air.

The King of Pop was married, nobody knew who this mystery girl was and people became obsessed.

Fans around the world reacted with shock, excitement, curiosity and disbelief. Many were genuinely happy for him, celebrating the fact that Michael seemed happy. Others immediately began searching for answers.

Who was she? How long had they been together? Where did she come from? How had Michael Jackson managed to keep an entire relationship hidden?

The tabloids became relentless.

Journalists camped outside places they suspected Michael frequently visited. Articles appeared daily, each claiming to have uncovered the identity of his “secret wife.”

None of them were correct.

“They think I’m some European model” you giggled, peeking over the newspaper to look at Michael who was buttering up your toast for you.

He laughed and shook his head, “you’re my model, baby”

“They will be so disappointed to know that I am just someone who basically picked out every single thing you put on your body for the Bad tour”

When you didn’t hear a laugh from him, you looked up and saw that Michael’s face had fallen. He looked serious now.

You frowned, “what happened?”

Michael sat across from you at the dining table, unusually quiet now.

You immediately knew something was on his mind.

“What is it?” you asked.

He hesitated for a moment but then quietly signed, “I don’t want to hide you anymore”

The words settled heavily between you.

“We did it for 7 months when we were dating, we are married now and I don’t want to do it anymore” he stated plainly.

You looked down at your hands because you knew this conversation would come eventually.

“I know,” you whispered.

Michael reached across the table and took your hand, “I want everyone to know we are together”

Your chest tightened. The truth was that part of you wanted it too. You were tired of sneaking around and pretending your marriage only existed behind closed doors.

But you also knew what would happen.

The world loved Michael but they hated every woman who was in his world. The world could be ruthless to the people around him.

“I’m scared,” you admitted.

His thumb brushed gently across your knuckles.

He was terrified too. He didn’t let it show but the tabloids have been ruthless with him so he knew what this entailed. He knew they would try to tear you to pieces but he was selfish, he wanted to show you off as his wife, he wanted you to be with him at boring dinner parties and award shows, he wanted the world to know you were his.

❥ ‑‑‑‑

A few weeks later, the opportunity arrived.

A charity gala raising money for children living in poverty. Michael had supported the organization for years and his appearance alone would guarantee international attention. He knew everyone would be tuning in and it would help the charity immensely.

When he suggested attending together, you knew exactly what it meant. There would be no going back afterward.

No more mystery. No more anonymity.

The entire world would finally know who Michael Jackson’s wife was.

The night of the event, your stomach felt sick and Michael noticed immediately.

As the car pulled up to the venue, he squeezed your hand.

“You don’t have to do this.”

You looked at him.

Then at the sea of flashing lights waiting outside.

And somehow found the courage to nod.

“Yes, I do.”

The moment the car door opened, chaos erupted.

Thousands of flashes and they were blinding. The shouting was worse because it came from every direction.

“Michael!”

“Over here!”

“Look this way!”

Then someone shouted your name.

Your actual name.

The realization hit you like a wave and you froze but Michael was quick to wrap an arm around your waist and guide you down the red carpet.

The cameras followed your every movement.

Television hosts immediately began discussing you on live broadcasts.

The screen behind one reporter displayed your photograph alongside the words:

MICHAEL JACKSON AND WIFE MAKE FIRST PUBLIC APPEARANCE.

You smiled and you posed. You tried your best. Beside you, Michael looked happier than you’d ever seen him.

For one night, it felt worth it.

The next morning, the articles started and there were hundreds. By the end of the week there were thousands.

Every school you’d attended, every job you’d worked, every friend you’d ever had, nothing was off limits.

Then came the lies.

A tabloid claimed you had a history of drug abuse. Another alleged you’d deliberately pursued famous men for years. One article insisted you had secretly manipulated your way into Michael’s life. Another accused you of marrying him for money.

One publication even quoted anonymous “sources” who claimed you had mocked Michael behind his back.

You stared at the headlines in disbelief.

None of it was true but the truth didn’t matter.

The stories spread anyway.

Gold digger.

Attention seeker.

Fraud.

User.

And you couldn’t stop reading them. Every headline was somehow worse than the last, it was infuriating.

Michael tried to put an end to it. Newspapers started disappearing before you would even have the chance to get a hold on them and TV was nothing but a buzzing ‘connection problem.’

One evening, Michael found you sitting alone in the bedroom, staring at another article accusing you of using him for fame.

You didn’t even realize you were crying until he quietly took the magazine from your hands.

For a long moment, neither of you spoke.

Then Michael tossed the magazine across the room.

“I hate them” your voice cracked as you looked up.

He looked devastated, almost more devastated than you.

“They don’t know you,” he said. “They don’t know anything about you.”

The tears came harder.

“They won’t leave me alone” you cried in his arms, falling apart.

“I’m sorry, this is my fault” he whispered, you felt his tears on your cheek as he pulled you closer.

“Every small action is twisted into a headline, Michael. If I look serious in a photo, they say I'm unhappy. If I'm smiling, they think I'm enjoying the spotlight” you yelled, “one day they say I'm secretly engaged to someone else or that I'm controlling you. One day I'm pregnant and the next, I'm planning to leave you”

You were screaming and shaking at this point, everything felt warm and like the room was sucked out of all the air in it. Michael’s body didn’t feel so comforting anymore, it felt like the room was closing in on you and there was nothing you could do about it.

Michael initially tried to ignore the stories, having dealt with media scrutiny his entire life. But watching someone he loves go through it was different. He became increasingly protective, arranging extra security for you and trying to shield you from the cameras. At the same time, he struggled with guilt, knowing that the attention existed because of him.

❥ ‑‑‑‑

Michael noticed the changes gradually, so gradually that at first he convinced himself he was imagining them. You still smiled when he spoke to you, still reached for his hand when you walked together, still told him you were fine whenever he asked.

Yet something was undeniably different.

The woman he had fallen in love with had once moved through life with an effortless confidence that drew people towards her. You had laughed loudly, spoken freely and carried yourself with a warmth that made every room feel brighter.

Over the months, however, those things began to disappear. You became quieter. More withdrawn. You hesitated before leaving the house. You checked over your shoulder whenever you were in public. Even your smiles seemed carefully measured now, as though you were afraid that any expression could become tomorrow’s headline.

Michael knew exactly why.

Every week there was another article. Another rumor. Another stranger claiming to know intimate details about a life they had never lived. It was like the media was punishing you for not giving them an interview and more access to your life, like they were punishing you for being private.

Michael had learned, however imperfectly, how to survive the scrutiny. But watching it consume you was something else entirely.

One evening, unable to sleep, Michael found himself alone in his office with a glass of whiskey. The house was silent around him. Newspapers lay scattered across his desk, their covers screaming accusations that neither of you bothered to deny anymore. There seemed no point. For every lie corrected, ten more appeared in its place. He stared at the headlines until the words blurred together, wondering at what point things had become so hopeless.

The sound of the door opening made him look up.

You stood in the doorway, dressed in one of his sweaters, your expression tired in a way that had nothing to do with sleep. For a moment neither of you spoke. The silence wasn’t awkward, it was familiar. It was the silence of two people who had spent months having the same conversation without ever saying the words aloud.

Michael looked at you and felt a sharp ache settle in his chest. It wasn’t because he loved you any less. If anything, he loved you more than he ever had. The pain came from realizing that love had not protected you from any of this. It had not shielded you from the cameras outside the gates or the reporters dissecting your past or the strangers debating your worth as though you were a public possession rather than a human being.

You looked back at him and there was something devastating in your eyes, it was not anger, not resentment but exhaustion. The kind of exhaustion that comes from fighting a battle for so long that you can no longer remember what life felt like before it began.

Neither of you mentioned the future. Neither of you spoke about leaving. Neither of you spoke about staying.

Instead, you simply stood there looking at one another and Michael had the terrible feeling that he was witnessing the end of something neither of you had wanted to lose. Not love. The love was still there, painfully so. It hung between you as strongly as it always had.

But there were other things that had disappeared.

The ease.

The joy.

The sense that the two of you could build a life untouched by the outside world.

As Michael sat there and you remained in the doorway, none of you made a move towards each other.

He realized that some things do not break all at once. They erode slowly, day after day, under pressure so constant that eventually there is nothing left to resist it. And as your eyes drifted to the newspapers scattered across his desk before returning to him again, neither of you needed to say a word to understand exactly what the other was thinking.

[hcwait]

You support a child molester.

and you had the audacity to send me this why?? hiding behind anon too lol why don’t you go cry somewhere else and get a life.

michael was proven not guilty & they raided the man’s house countless times just to find no evidence. why don’t people talk about epstein and how he had multiple children on his island & physically consumed them. why isn’t anyone talking or making documentaries about how our president of the united states was on said island MULTIPLE TIMES, has said and done worse things michael has ever done, and continues to still thrive in power.

michael stood for helping protect children and these ignorant people want to flip the narrative and say that he was inappropriate with them, yet turn around and question why is it that our representatives don’t care enough about our children. we’re losing free lunches for kids in school, the board of educators and resources for children.

yet the man who created a safe space for children to be playful, to be themselves and to be a protection for them, he is the bad one right? the man who visited sick children and donated thousands and thousands to charities to help as many as he could, he’s the one people had to be worried about right?

i am so sick of this twisted narrative that michael was a bad person because he wasn’t like everyone else and im sick that people are still using his name today to get their 5 minutes of fame.

[loveaffaire]

I’ve been crazy about Michael Jackson since I was like 8 and seeing people write fanfics about him now is insane to me, I need to JOIN in immediately omg 😭😭😭

[loveaffaire]

this new thunderbolts bucky looks so broody and sexy, I might just come to my fanfic era not even kidding

[tomhollandfics-deactivated20250]

Hi, I couldn't see it so ignore me if you've already done it but do you have any tom holland fluff fics

Driving In The Rain - @parkers-gal

Finals Week - @thollandthot

Home Sweet Home - @sunshinehollandd

Petals & Thorns - @wazzupmrstark

Proud - @asonofpeter

Sacred New Beginnings - @cali-holland

Misty Morning - @itsbeaconhillsbaby

It's Good To See You - @flyvisty

Love Language - @loveaffaire

Pillow Talk - @erule

A Ring And A Chain - @hollandsmushroom

[loveaffaire]

Thank you so much for tagging me lovie! 🤍

[belovedholland]

tom-softie → belovedholland

So I changed my name, let me know what you think!

I will be updating everything as quickly as I can.

-❁-❁-❁-

Tagging my mutuals under the cut

Keep reading

[loveaffaire]

💓ITS SO CUTE!!🦋

[ghcstfaec]

i decided to make another post because my previous one has died. the cyst on my right chest came back and my surgery is set this friday. unfortunately, i don’t have enough funds for the operation itself nor have i reached my goal. i would really appreciate if you signal boost my post. thank you!

my paypal is https://www.paypal.me/chescagfermin

[loveaffaire]

Twisted In Bedsheets

Pairing: Tom Holland x reader

Summary: Tom and you have broken up months ago but he still somehow ends up twisted in your bedsheets

Warnings: mentions of sex & melancholy vibes. 18+ (MINORS DNI)

Word count: 500+

you met tom for a coffee this afternoon and you promised it’ll just be coffee but that coffee had quickly turned into something else as you stumbled inside your bedroom with him all over you and now here he was drawing hearts on your back with his fingertips two hours later.

the breakup was a mutual decision really, neither of you knew how it got so bad so fast but after six months of screaming and fighting, you’ve decided to part ways. maybe you and tom just didn’t fit well together anymore and that was just life but that doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt because it certainly crushed you.

“i have to leave” tom whispered as he brushed your hair back and kissed your neck before sitting up on the bed, the sheets pooling around his torso.

you wanted him to stay, just for a little while but you’ll never say it. the relationship was so dead, neither of you had the strength to bring it back to life and you both have accepted it months ago.

“is there somewhere you have to be?” you asked tracing the freckles on his back.

tom wanted to stay, just for a little while but he’ll never say it. things were just so different now, he changed and you changed and you both grew apart.

“um yeah. i have to meet harry today” he said, getting out of bed, as naked as the day he was born.

tom had nowhere to go. he knew that he’ll go back home and probably spend the rest of the evening alone in front of the television and he also knew that if he stayed here for a minute more then he’ll be fucking you into the mattress for the third time today.

“oh, tell harry i said hi” you whispered as you watched him slip in his jacket.

you wanted him to leave his clothes all on the floor because you knew that when he puts them back on, he’ll be out of the door. you hated that thought.

you felt it and he felt it too, you both knew that when he walks out of here this time, there won’t be any coming back. when you both will part this time, it’ll really be gone.

his gaze lingered on your naked body a little longer than before like he was memorising the way you look. the way your messy hair fell down your back, tiny droplets of sweat on your collarbone, your lips and cheeks stained red.

he pushed his soft brown hair back when he was done getting dressed. you watched as he tied his shoelaces and the way his jaw clenched while doing so.

“i miss you” you blurted before you could stop yourself

“yeah, i miss you too” tom said, way too fast, like those words were just sitting on his tongue all this time.

but you both knew that this won’t change anything, he will still walk out of your house at this very moment and you will still never call him again.

you nodded your head as he gave you a small smile and turned around to reach for the door handle. without a single word, he was gone in the blink of an eye. as you heard your front door shut, a single tear runs down the side of your face as you lay alone in your bed.

he was gone and she was gone and they’re just not in love anymore.

A/N: hi hi hi I hope you like that. If you did, please try to like/reblog/comment below your thoughts!

Thank you დ

© loveaffaire

[dreamsarecloserwithyou]

This is still one of my favorites. Its so melancholy and real. bring again cuz it deserves it!

[loveaffaire]

Thank you so much!!🤍

[loveaffaire]

I haven’t written in months so how exactly do you guys keep going with barely any reblogs and/or feedback? :(

[sea-of-emeralds-reblogs]

i felt that!!! i’m so sorry boo it’s so much of a struggle without support but we all love you! even though i’m sorta new here to the fandom but still!!!

[loveaffaire]

This is so sweet, thank you for saying that! Love you 🤍

[loveaffaire]

I miss you:(

I just saw this and it’s from October last year??? I’m so sorry for not answering before, whoever you are I miss you too and I hope that you’re okay <3