Media manipulation to the highest level. Martin Bashir edited his words to engineer a narrative, and MJ was guilty to the press before he was ever charged.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: inspired by that one video of that fan with her belly piercing but with a twist ━ oops. also me trying to be more comfortable at writing michael that way😭i feel a bit uncomfortable but i hope you guys won’t feel it while reading!
THE GATED DRIVEWAY of Neverland was quiet for once, the last of the evening crew having clocked out an hour ago. Michael had been in the kitchen when he heard the familiar click-clack of heels on the marble foyer. He padded out in bare feet, loose pajama pants, and faded white t-shirt.
She was leaning against the doorframe of the living room, arms crossed behind her back, a wicked little smile playing on her glossy lips. She was wearing a tight, thin, pale yellow ribbed tank top ━ no bra, that he could always tell ━ and some low waisted jeans that she liked.
"Hi, baby," she purred, stepping forward.
Michael tilted his head, suspicious. Despite being together for only a few months, he could already read her like he read himself and, judging by her smile, knew she was up to no good.
"Where did you go? You said you were going to the pharmacy... That was hours ago. I got anxious."
"Mmm," she stopped a foot away. "Sorry, Mike, I made a little detour."
"A detour?" he blinked. "To where?"
"Take a guess," she bit her lower lip. "I have a new… accessory."
Michael let out a soft, airy laugh, the one that sounded like a hiccup of disbelief.
"Aw, c'mon now. I'm tired, woman. Just show me."
She tapped a finger to her chin, pretending to consider.
"Hmm… no. Play with me."
He sighed, a dramatic, theatrical thing, but he obeyed. His hands hovered nervously at her hips, pulling her into his lap as he sat on the couch.
"If this is another one of your pranks with a fake spider…" he mumbled.
"Shh," her voice was a warm whisper near his jaw. "It's better than a fake spider, I promise."
"A ring?"
"No."
"A bag?"
She shook her head.
"A necklace?"
"Getting warmer, baby," she laughed, wetting her lip. "Look closer."
Michael sighed, his eyes observing her face, travelling to her hair for a second. She had obviously not been to the hairstylist and her face was still the same, makeup free like when she had left. Then, he reached up to push his glasses, the thin wire-framed ones he wore when he was reading or working late, further up his nose ━ might as well see whatever prank she was pulling properly.
His eyes lowered to the hollow of her throat where no necklace was present…
And then ━ his eyes gained twice their size.
There, pressed against the thin yellow cotton of her tank top, was an unusual shape ━ two small balls, one on each side of the peak of her breasts, connected by a subtle, rigid bar just visible through the fabric.
Michael stared, his mouth parting. No sound came out for four seconds.
"Wh—"
"Surprise!" she grinned. "Do you know what this is, Mikey?"
His brain short-circuited. He was forty-five years old, he had seen things, done things, but this… this sent him reeling like a teenager.
"You━" Michael shook his head slowly, a disbelieving laugh bubbling up. "Nah. Nah, you playin'. That's not━how is that even possible?"
"With a needle, and a lot of courage, anything is possible," she popped the 'p' with glee. "Right through the little nibble."
"Baby…" he sounded almost wounded.
Flustered pink crept up his neck, clashing with his pale complexion. Michael looked away, then back, then away again, as if the piercings were just too much for him. He pushed his glasses up again, a nervous habit, and swallowed hard. He was definitely too old for this.
"What's the matter, old man?" she laughed. "Never seen a nipple piercing before?"
"N-no," Michael muttered, running a hand over his hair. "Girl, you tryna give me a heart attack."
She leaned closer, pressing her hands flat against his chest.
"That's the opposite of what I want, actually. I want your heart to beat really fast for me."
"It is," Michael swallowed hard. "Trust me, it is."
"Good," she grabbed his hand ━ his long, elegant, trembling hand ━ and pressed his palm flat against her sternum, just above her new accessories. "Want to touch?"
His fingers twitched against the cotton and he could feel the heat of her skin, and then ━ there ━ the faint, impossible hardness of the barbell beneath. His thumb brushed over the shape of the right ball, making her shiver.
"Does it hurt?" he asked.
"Fuck no ━ just sensitive as fuck," she let out a breathy laugh. "So you be nice to me, Mr. Jackson."
Michael looked up at her through his glasses and something shifted in his expression. The shyness was still there, but underneath it, she could see his curiosity.
"Let me see."
Her grin widened. Got him. She hooked her thumbs under the hem of her tank top and pulled it over her head in one lazy motion. And there they were ━ her small, perfect, palm-sized breasts with two gleaming silver barbells piercing each nipple.
Michael inhaled sharply, his eyes tracing the metal through his glasses, the way it was sitting flush against her skin, the way her nipples were already hardened around the jewelry...
"God," he breathed, almost reverent. "That's… that's somethin' else, baby."
"You like it?" she sounded genuinely curious now, the bratty edge softening.
He nodded, reaching out before he stopped an inch from her chest, looking up for permission.
"Can I?"
"Go ahead, but be careful ━ they're very sensitive."
His touch was featherlight, a single fingertip tracing the cool metal of the left barbell, following the bar from one silver ball to the other. She gasped, a quick little sound that made him smile.
"Sorry," he murmured, not sorry at all.
"You're doing that on purpose."
"Maybe…" Michael did it again, slower, watching her face through the lenses. "This what you wanted, woman? Wanted me all flustered and dumb so you could have your way?"
"Maybe," she echoed, rolling her hips just slightly against his lap.
His hands shot to her waist, gripping.
"Uh-uh. Don't start somethin' you can't finish."
"Oh, I fully intend to finish," she leaned down, her lips brushing his ear. "But first, I want you to take good care of me."
Michael whimpered ━ actually whimpered ━ and flipped them in one smooth motion, pinning her beneath him on the velvet couch. She yelped before laughing, then moaned as his mouth found her neck.
"Is that right?" he kissed down her throat, her collarbone, the swell of her breast. "You want me to take care of you? I'll give you some care."
Michael took his time and kissed every inch of her skin, from her wrists to her ribs to the underside of her breasts, avoiding the piercings just to hear her whine in frustration.
"Michael."
"Patience, woman."
He licked a stripe up her sternum, his glasses fogging slightly from the heat of her skin. He paused to wipe them on his shirt, making her snort.
"Seriously?"
"I wanna see," he said like it was obvious. "You went through all this trouble… Let me appreciate it."
Michael pushed the glasses back on and lowered his mouth to her left nipple gently, so gently, his tongue circling the cool metal. She arched off the couch with a cry. Her fingers tangled in his dark hair, holding him there.
"Oh my God━"
"That's it," he murmured against her skin, switching to the other side. "That's my good girl. So pretty, so brave for gettin' these for me."
"For you?" she panted, half-laughing, half-moaning. "I got them for me."
"Mmm," he sucked lightly and she bucked beneath him. "And who you gonna let play with 'em, huh? Who gets to touch?"
"Y-you," she admitted, breathless. "Just you. Fuck, Mike━"
Michael pulled back just enough to look at her. She was flushed, her lip bitten, her eyes glassy. Her chest was heaving, the piercings catching the low light, and his glasses were slightly askew on his face. She thought he had never looked more beautiful.
"I love you," he murmured, thumb still brushing slow circles around the barbell without quite touching the peak.
Her heart melted at his words. She loved how he could be all shy and flustered in one breath, more confident and playful in another, but always ━ always ━ loving and ready to please.
"… I'd love you more if you did something else," she decided to tease instead because, well, that was who she was.
She wrapped her legs tighter around his waist, pulling him flush against her. Through the thin fabric of his pajama pants and her jeans, she could feel him ━ hard and ready. She rolled her hips again just to hear him hiss.
"Looks like I'm not the only one being sensitive," she remarked playfully.
"And I'm the only one having to be careful," Michael soothed a thumb over the other nipple, watching her pupils blow wide.
"And you're being so good at that."
"So I’ve been told."
He lowered his mouth to the left piercing again, but he was not sucking this time, just breathing warm air over the cool metal. Her back arched off the couch, a broken little sound falling from her lips.
"Michael━"
"That's my name," he murmured against her skin. "Don't wear it out."
She laughed despite herself ━ a breathless, helpless thing ━ and tugged at his hair gently. She knew his scalp would still hurt him.
"You're enjoying this way too much."
"Course I am," he licked a slow stripe over the barbell, just the flat of his tongue, gentle as anything. "Got my beautiful girl spread out underneath me, showin' me the pretty new piercings she got just to make me crazy. You think I ain't gonna enjoy every second?"
"I didn't get them just to make you crazy━"
"Liar."
She opened her mouth to argue, but he chose that exact moment to close his lips around her nipple to suck. The pull of his mouth against the metal sent a jolt straight through her, making her hips buck against him. Her hands fisted in his hair, a moan tearing out of her that she could not have stopped if she had tried.
When he pulled back, his lips were shiny, his glasses were fogged again, and his eyes were dark as sin.
"Feel better?" he asked innocently.
Her chest heaved as she stared at him ━ this ridiculous, gorgeous impossible man hovering over her with his hair falling into his face, his glasses sliding down his nose, that little smile playing at his lips.
She grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him down into a kiss instead of answering. He melted into her, one hand cradling her jaw, the other still on her chest.
When they broke apart, she was smiling.
"That's not an answer," he murmured.
"I believe it’s pretty self-explanatory, baby."
Michael kissed her again, softer this time. Then, he pulled back, pushed his glasses up, and looked at her like she was the only woman in the world. God, she loved when he was wearing those glasses.
"Lie back."
She did.
He kissed down her body again ━ kissed her sternum, her stomach, her hip bones, mouthing at the waistband of her jeans until she lifted her hips so he could pull them off. His lips hovered above her underwear, a wet patch already darkening them.
"God," he breathed. "Look at you."
"Michael━"
"Shh," he pressed a kiss to her inner thigh. "Let me. Please."
She nodded, not trusting her voice. He worked his way up slowly with kisses on her thighs, her hips, the soft skin of her lower belly. His fingers traced lazy patterns on her skin, avoiding where she wanted him the most, just to hear her whine.
"P-please," she finally gasped.
"Please what?"
"Please touch me!"
"So polite when you want somethin'," Michael slid his hand between her legs, and when his fingers found her slick and desperate, he groaned like he was the one being touched. "All that just for me?" he asked, almost disbelieving.
"W-who else would it be for?" she managed.
He did not answer and just lowered his mouth to her while his fingers worked. The combination of his tongue on her bundle of nerves and the way he kept glancing up at her through his lashes ━ checking, making sure she was okay, making sure she was feeling good ━ sent her hurtling toward the edge too fast.
"Mike, I'm gonna━"
"Let go," he murmured against her. "I got you. I always got you, baby. Let go for me."
She did and shattered with his name on her lips, her back arching off the couch, her hands fisted so tight in his hair she was probably hurting him ━ but he did not stop. Michael worked her through it, his teeth slightly nibbling her there, until she was limp and trembling and completely, utterly satisfied.
He crawled back up her body, kissed her forehead, her nose, her lips.
"You okay?" he asked softly.
She blinked up at him and managed a wobbly smile.
"I think I almost died," she whispered.
Michael smiled and settled against her side, pulling her close. His glasses were crooked, his hair was a mess, his lips were kiss-swollen and his eyes were soft.
"Good," he murmured, pressing a kiss to her temple. "That's all I wanted."
She curled into him, her head on his chest, her fingers tracing lazy patterns on his stomach. The piercings pressed against his side, cool and solid, and she felt him shiver slightly.
"Cold?"
"No," he breathed. "Just… you, that’s all."
She smiled against his skin. They lay there for a long time ━ him holding her, her tucked against him, the quiet hum of Neverland settling around them.
"You know I'm gonna be thinkin' about them piercings every time I see you now, right?"
She laughed.
"Good."
"Good?" he tilted his head to look at her. "Woman, I'm supposed to be writin' music. How'm I supposed to focus when all I can think about is━"
"Maybe you need a new inspiration," she teased, her hand reaching for still hard length of him.
"Y-yeah," he moaned, pulling her on top of her. "Yeah, maybe I do."
i could list off all the things i find attractive about michael and it will be a long list turned into an essay but my favorite thing about that man is his accent. i LOVEEE his accent, i love his voice, especially his natural deep voice. i love it so much, and you hear his accent so loud and clear in come together. when he says “is you got to be free.” the way he says free. “come togethaaa, right nie” instead of “come together, right now” and how he says “you know me.” LIKE I DO I DO KNOW YOU MICHAEL
ꫂ᭪݁⋮ ┆ he can't resist watching you get ready. whether it be you getting ready for him, getting ready to go out, preparing yourself before bed so you wake up all pretty. it doesn't matter. michael finds time to watch you at your vanity. he's infatuated.
he'd watch with his mouth parted a little with his head tilted to the side, or with the laziest, prettiest, boyish smile resting on his lips. he'd make sure to remind you how beautiful he thinks you are, or ask you which lipstick you were planning on wearing, or let you know which perfume of yours was his favorite, despite you not asking.
ꫂ᭪݁⋮ ┆ he thinks your little habits are adorable. he begins to pick up on them as well.
you're always fixing your jewelry so the clasps aren't showing. soon enough, michael is twisting your necklaces around for you, putting on your bracelets for you tight enough so that they don't turn, buying you thin little thongs because he knows you hate panty lines.
he wipes the gloss from that little dip underneath your plump bottom lip after you eat, knowing that you were gonna do so as soon as you checked out your reflection in that pocket mirror you carry everywhere. he knows you too well and your little habits become some of his favorite things.
ꫂ᭪݁⋮ ┆ your femininity drives him crazy. the way you have no shame in fluttering your dark lashes up at him when you ask him something or when you smile at him. the tight nightgowns you wear to bed that stop right at the middle of the swell of your ass. your feet are always pedicured and you always make sure to have earrings on.
you never leave without spraying the column of your neck, collarbones, and that spot in between your breasts with perfume. every spot you'd want him to kiss.
angel face needs a pretty girl at his side to love and adore.
discoholicmusic
blakekathryn
stormborns
gracieabrams
ellievsbear
amandla
pixelskylines
2087
