-Minors, most of my fics have mature themes plz dni
-MJ haters/anyone who believes he was a pedo
-Sam Winchester haters
-Wincest shippers
-Racists
-Sexists
-homo/transphobes
-trumpies (ew)
My masterlist 💋
Notes: This page is meant to be welcoming to anyone who visits, I try my best to treat everyone with kindness and expect the same towards myself.
A special note as a MJ writer, I do my best to respect his image and do research when necessary, especially as someone who is not the apart of the Black community. If I ever mess up in that area plz call me out, but respectfully. I don’t wanna come off as willfully ignorant as my intentions are always love and respect.
I’m so honored and appreciative of the support! Thank you all and in honor of this here is a pic I love from MJ in every era since my non MJ friend couldn’t appreciate them enough 😔
Alsooo I’ll hopefullyyyyy have my next fic out soon, but it’s gonna be angst so buckle up 😔
hi guys, so I'm just boosting right now. Please don't ignore this. So I just got a dm from one of my amazing followers, and they just informed me that THIS RACIST! @writing5ever is the person behind all these racist remarks on anonymous. Please make sure yall block him. Cause yes, it is that serious when it comes to racism so make sure yall report that page too !!
Also, idk why yall constantly feel the need to be so hateful towards black people?, I truly think THOSE people tend to forget we are the blueprints always have been forever will be. I don't even wanna cuss his loser ass out because he know he deadass wrong and that's why his bitch ass went anon on every request. So go block that racist bitch I cannot stand THOSE people sometimes, and no offense to the people that don't attack the black community but please get yall people in check. It's beyond sickening and disgusting, and pathetic and I'm so tired of it. Now please REPORT that page. I truly think THOSE people forget that michael Joseph jackson was a BLACK man, so why wouldn't black people write about a black man?, yall don't want a toxic community but YALL make it toxic. Then wonder why the community is dying because we have people like @writing5ever attacking black authors with his pathetic stank oatmeal pie smellin ass, bitch so miserable and mad. But yall wanna talk about mj being a "predator" what about ELVIS presely?, oh okay cracka.
Have yall a wonderful blessed day, make sure yall report this WHITE MAN attacking my beautiful black authors, with our beautiful brown glorious sexy glamorous ethereal skin, with our beautiful asses😇. @writing5ever
With all the talk about Michael’s sex appeal lately… I gotta tell y’all why Michael being liberated in his body as a Black man, and how even his “crotch grabbing,” is so powerful to me. And to understand this, we have to discuss how Black men’s bodies have been shamed throughout history as something taboo or evil.
(Loooong read ahead lol)
Black male bodies have always been a site of white supremacist control. During the era of chattel slavery, white men asserted dominance over black men’s flesh to dehumanize/emasculate them by violating and owning their bodies. Sexual and physical violence was forced on them, along with their bodies being used as property for labor. Every form of human degradation and domination was enacted to strip them of their autonomy and manhood. Black bodies were treated as a commodity meant only for white consumption.
There is also a caricature created by white supremacy, called the “black brute,” that was forced onto Black men to keep them controlled after the Civil War. Black men were painted to be hypermasculine “animals” with large genitalia who couldn’t control their sexual appetite. Eurocentric standards defined Black men very rigidly, leaving no space for their full range of humanness- physically and emotionally.
Black men have also been lynched throughout American history for white ritualistic entertainment, over made-up offenses and false social “violations.” They were violently mutilated as part of these lynchings. Removing their genitalia symbolized the white fixation on their bodies and the fear of white women becoming their “prey.” There were even medical articles written with ways to "cure" Black men of their “barbaric” sexual urges through castration. This racial violence stems from white supremacist insecurity, wanting control over Black men, while creating terror around their sexuality. These dehumanizing fixations and biased stereotypes are present in many areas of Michael’s life.
Michael’s existence as a Black man under the world’s spotlight made him the target of racist, intrusive attacks. His soft voice and sensitive nature attracted media speculation about his body and masculinity. Rumors about faking his voice, taking hormones, and childhood castration were just some of the speculations around his biology. There was also the intense social pressure for him to remain a cute child, making his puberty experience under white beauty standards (and a self-hating father) exceptionally traumatic.
While white conservative media initially praised him for being a "safe" Black idol, this endearing perception shifted over time. As he aged, Michael was criticized heavily for not conforming to the media’s idea of Black hypermasculinity. This conditional acceptance demanded conformity for white comfort, yet also denied his autonomy as a man outside of entertainment. The infamous New York Post headline, "Peter Pan or Pervert?," shows that the mainstream media would eventually only accept Michael as either a stunted adult or a sex criminal.
Throughout adulthood, he was infantilized by media outlets for not being traditionally masculine or “sexual” enough based on their racial standards. This attitude allowed audiences to consume his talent while denying his maturity, intelligence, and reality as an adult Black man. Interviewers would pry about his sex life and appearance, rather than his art and humanitarian work, framing him as an odd specimen. The public’s failure to understand Michael created room for biased suspicion. This was evident when Bashir weaponized Michael's childhood trauma and emotional vulnerability to portray him as a strange, unstable pedophile.
Once media couldn't paint him as a child prodigy or an untouchable pop god, it became lucrative to market him as eccentric and disturbed. Michael was not given the space to express his quirks, emotions, or inner child freely without biased opinions. Michael was forced to constantly defend his psychological maturity and personal life choices on camera, more than his white peers.
His interests, hobbies, and demeanor were sensationalized and used to portray him as a “weird" spectacle. The media felt entitled to deconstruct every aspect of his private life, turning interviews into interrogations. A well known instance of this is when Michael uncomfortably closed his jacket after Barbara Walters claimed he was eccentric and invited attention...a human reaction to being on display. His existence was pathologized as a strange anomaly. Headlines scrutinized Michael’s clothing, makeup, and hair choices that would be praised as “androgynous” or “groundbreaking” on a white performer.
His skin condition added to the prejudice against him. This phenomenon has historical parallels: Black individuals with vitiligo or albinism were often used as attractions in sideshows or by white scientists for racist theories. The European term “white negro” viewed them as a medical oddity and a different human species. For example, Henry Moss, a 17th century enslaved man with vitiligo, became a paid exhibition for white amusement, and the subject of research experiments. The stigma that treated Michael’s body as bizarre and contaminated with sin was already embedded into our culture.
The social panic around Michael also shows in the hysteria around his dancing. It reflects the colonial white gaze towards Black culture. It treats hip movements as something inherently hypersexual or “vulgar.” Pelvic, bottom, and hip movements are major parts of Afro-diasporic cultures, using the entire body as an instrument rather than confining dance to feet and a rigid, straight spine. Black dance throughout many genres (jazz, blues, soul, modern hip hop, etc.) represents liberation and autonomy. Dance has been an ancestral outlet for the soul throughout centuries of racist oppression.
However, Michael’s dancing was criticized by white media platforms for being too promiscuous and corrupting the youth. While dance does express Black sensuality, Western culture has historically viewed it as abnormally provocative and strange. This racist view traces back to minstrel shows mocking Black dance, as well as when enslaved individuals had to dance for white entertainment. Black dance has socially been seen as lewd and sinful when compared to Eurocentric dance standards.
The judgement Michael received shows the discomfort around Black sexuality, especially as a former child star facing racial double standards. White popstars and rockstars did not face the same systemic anxieties that Michael did, regarding bodily expression. While Oprah wanted to imply a sexually deviant reason for his crotch grabbing, Michael stated it came from the power of the music. Michael’s eroticism was subconsciously intertwined with the rhythm; his sharp pelvic and fluid hip movements became a physical embodiment of the drum itself. His creative, musical energy went hand-in-hand with his sensuality. These movements were always central to his choreography in the 1970s, yet outrage developed as his vitiligo progressed and he drifted from his commercialized “safe” Black superstar image.
His deliberate pelvic touch, zipper closeup, and slow hip grinding in the Black Panther dance was such a powerful way to reject the endless puritanical criticisms against him. The raw emotion in the video was also an animalistic, unfiltered reaction to racism, but was interpreted as promoting mindless public destruction. Consequently, the video faced immediate mainstream backlash and network censorship for alleged sexual and physical “aggression.” The public felt compelled to sanitize Michael’s image, viewing Black sexuality and emotion as dangerous. The objectification of Michael’s body was not exclusive to the stage and music videos; it bled into the dehumanizing legal battles he faced as well.
The world’s most famous and powerful figure being a Black man, loved by women of all races, challenged the racial hierarchies that America is founded on. It was a recipe for racial injustice and a curated enemy for the public. The 2005 trial was a modern-day lynching that degraded his image for the sake of greed and manufactured panic. The 1993 allegations were the calculated result of a vengeful extortionist seeking to humiliate him through the caricature of the sexually dangerous Black man. Tabloid malpractice profited off this moral hysteria, circulating baseless speculations and buying out fictional stories that portrayed Michael as a monster.
The 2005 trial was a dehumanizing witch hunt, at the hands of the white DA Thomas Sneddon who had a vendetta to prosecute Michael, even if it meant falsifying evidence. Michael's incarceration would have been a trophy for Sneddon, making an example of a beloved icon and supporting his professional reputation. That trial violated Michael on every level: subjecting him to an invasive strip search, documenting intrusive images of his private areas, forced court appearances while injured, raiding his safe space, and the destruction of his overall health. This public spectacle and media frenzy created an ignorant stigma around his legacy that still stands. The violent arrest and intrusive body search echo the centuries-old pattern of authorities robbing black bodies of basic human dignity.
I don’t believe it’s a mere coincidence that the first worldwide Black heartthrob was falsely accused of sex crimes, with white men leading the attack. Belittling a Black man through abusive media and mob mentality heavily mirrored the painful past of legal and physical violence inflicted on Black bodies. A racist, narrow cultural framework created the media circus of fascination and fear around Michael’s anatomy.
These themes are obvious in the media slur “Wacko Jacko” (which Michael was very aware of), reducing a complex, brilliant human being to an eccentric animal. Even immediately after passing, that name continued to follow him in the tabloids, alongside invasive images of his body. There was also an instant, hypocritical switch to falsified sympathy and celebrating his legacy once he passed, but it was superficially done just for the nostalgic bandwagon. The media economy exploited Michael to no end, by destroying him and then capitalizing on his memory.
But Michael's spirit and strength always proved to be Invincible, refusing to be victimized by bigoted judgement or compromise his art. This is why I view Threatened as an autobiographical anthem that plays on the narrative of Michael being a savage “monster.” It flips that haunting dynamic to intimidate the biased media systems, while recognizing Michael’s mass appeal and inescapable status. It tells the white patriarchal establishment, “Every time your lady speaks, she speaks of me. Threatened.” It directly targets the fragile egos of Michael’s critics and how institutions felt threatened by his refusal to submit to any boxes. “Half of me you'll never be, so you should feel threatened by me.” The song counterattacks anyone who has tried to take away Michael’s pride and manhood. It reclaims his power, despite the social campaign to label him as a “freak.”
Michael was catapulted into a world eager to shame his body and capitalize on racist, gendered panic. Abusive journalism demonized his sexuality and skin condition, portraying him as a “weird” criminal for tabloid profit. Additionally, Thomas Sneddon relentlessly pursued Michael for over a decade to prosecute him as a sexual predator. Tabloid Junkie strongly exposes how the obsessive press wanted to, “speculate to break the one you hate" and "circulate the lie" they confiscate. Michael was vividly aware of the systemic goal to "assassinate and mutilate" his character and legacy. The media manhunt around Michael mirrored the publicized, coordinated pursuits of black men for public spectacle in American history.
The historical fixation on Black biology and autonomy laid the foundation for the media attacks and weaponized sexuality used against Michael. His private, complex humanity was treated as a freakish anomaly that the media sought to brutally deconstruct. There was a permanent racialized lens observing his expression of Black masculinity, turning nonconformity and difference into a tabloid minstrel caricature. Deeply rooted social phobias and fabricated narratives stripped Michael of his presumption of innocence from the general public. The historical biases fabricated around Black men and their sexuality were triggered in hopes of his publicized downfall.
Despite these pressures, the way Michael ruled a stage or captivated the audience remains generationally sacred. Performance was the ultimate sanctuary for a self-proclaimed, painfully shy man...whose traumas and pain were transmuted into an electrifying force of self and cultural emancipation. His artistic legacy and transcendent performances are immortal archives of his Black resilience and identity. With every smooth body roll, hip thrust, or defiant "crotch grab," he exuded Black sexual liberation and somatic freedom. Michael’s showmanship was an authentic expression of a Black man reclaiming his space, breaking the chains of his own dehumanization and the centuries of oppression against Black bodies.
i love reading y’all’s fanfics cs u guys make me feel so hot. like yes i am the most famous, beautiful, and powerful woman in the music industry alongside my beautiful, hot, sexy, kind husband who is the king of pop and treats me like im the only woman in the world capable of receiving his unconditional love.
Story synopsis: It is fall of 2008(szn 4) and Rose is a 22 yr old determined and passionate hunter, unfortunately for her on one of her hunts a werewolf gets the best of her. After recovering from her injury she eagerly heads out to hunt again and that’s when she meets the Winchester brothers. From there she starts to build a friendship with the two of them but maybe there’s something more developing with Sam…
chapter summary: Rose hangs out with Bobby as she recovers from her injury.
Warnings/content: 18+ This ch is fine but eventually the story will have more mature themes. No more warnings necessary.
a/n: I'm gonna try and post another ch. really soon bc this one is so, so short😭. Truthfully I started this fic ages ago and had no concept of chapter length😔
𓇢𓆸
“So, checked out the news lately?” I ask before taking a bite of pancake.
“Yeah why do you ask?” Bobby questions me.
“Nothing. Uh no reason just was wondering if there was anything strange or unusual you saw.” I tell him.
“Rose, no you’re not hunting yet.” He says firmly.
“Whatttt nooo I was just curious” I say smiling innocently.
“Do I look like an Idjit to you?” Bobby asks in a frustrated tone.
“No I- sorry Bobby I was just thinking about the girl with her throat ripped out, seems like our kinda thing…” I say trailing off.
“I know, and it’s great that you care but you have to be stable to hunt and right now you need to rest. I’ll put someone else on the case. Now, what do you wanna do after breakfast today?” He replies to me.
“Huh!” I gasp. “Can you finally teach me to play poker?” I ask with a giddy smile.
“Yes, sure I’ll teach you.” Bobby agrees as he rolls his eyes. “Yippee!” I exclaim.
Later on we’re sitting at Bobby’s round table attempting to play poker when it’s my turn. “Umm I don’t know go fish!” I say with my innocent smile.
“Now if you’re not gonna take it seriously..” Bobby starts.
“No. Sorry I will. What do I do?” I interject.
“Okay, what cards do you got?” He asks.
“Umm I have a 4, 8, and three 2s” I tell him.
“Very good that’s three of a kinda.” He tells me. “But, I have a small straight” Bobby says as he lays out his fanned out cards.
“Which means?” I ask confused.
“That I win!” Bobby exclaims.
“Ugh! Just as was getting the hang of it you confuse me again and I loose. Humph!” I whine.
“It’s a tricky game and I’ve been playing a lot longer than you but you’ll get the hang it. It’ll be okay.” He says reassuring me.
Later on I eventually go bed secretly hoping tomorrow I magically will wake up feeling good as new.
………………………………………………………………..
5 weeks later
This morning I wake up with an extra dash of excitement. Bobby said if my wound was looking good today that I could finally be free to go a hunt again. As much as I’ve hated having to take time off work, I actually enjoyed spending some downtime bonding with Bobby. Two weeks ago I even got good enough at poker I think I could win a game or two against him. I run downstairs and when I don’t see him I call out his name, “Bobbyyyy!” Silence. “Dammit he must be at the store or something”. I decide I can eat breakfast and drink some coffee while I wait, hopefully he won’t be gone for long.
Hmm what should I have for breakfast? Pancakes sounds good but I don’t wanna make too many… I don’t think he has cereal let me check, nope no cereal hmm… after a bit more pondering I finally settle on an egg and cheese sandwich. Once my sandwich is ready, and coffee is brewed I take my food over to the couch and sit down to watch tv while I wait for Bobby to get back. Around 30 minutes later I hear the door open.
“Hey Bobby, you’re back took you long enough!” I say.
“Yeah I just went on a milk run, what’s with all the excitement?” He asks.
“Did you forget? Today you’re gonna look at my stitches and tell me I can hunt again.” I remind him.
“If your stitches look good but yes I can do that let me come over there and see.” He tells me.
“Okay I’m gonna lift the bandage and look” Bobby then carefully peels back the bandage. “Let me see here. Oh wow interesting…” he starts. “Interesting? What? What does that mean please tell me that’s a good interesting Bobby I really wanna hunt!” I say interrupting.
“Well umm they look… fine I’m just messing with you everything looks really good, as long as you promise to be careful I think you’re clear to hunt again.” He says smiling.
“OMG are you being serious? Let me see! Yes! It looks good yay I’m gonna go get ready!” I say full of excitement.
Bobby furrows his eyebrows with confusion, “you’re going right now? Do you even have a case?”
“Yes! I found one last night in hopes I could go today!” I say as I practically run up the stairs.
“Of course you did. Okay just drive safely.” He tells me.
I just wanted to let you know that it breaks my heart how black people are treated in this fandom; the comments that are made, the straight up racist statements, I can't stand it anymore.
As a white person, I get that I can’t fully understand how much it hurts the black community. But I hope you understand and realize that I fully support you guys!
We’re all here for the same reason; our love for MJ and let that love be the strongest, not only to him but also to each other cause that’s what he would’ve wanted.
I love you, no matter if you’re black, white, male, female, straight, gay or anything in between! <3
I was gonna post smth similar but this is worded perfectly.
This disrespect and literal racism Black ppl in the MJ community have been facing lately has me sick! Over what?? Fan fics?? Some audios? Just existing?? Racism is always wrong and ppl leaving anonymous messages should be ashamed of themselves. Michael would be heartbroken to see this, also he was literally Black himself!!
Just like this user said you are always loved and welcome by me 💕
♱ summary: you answered a phone that wasn’t supposed to ring. somehow, it connected you to michael jackson. except… it’s 1982 for him. and 2026 for you.
♱ word count: 1.6k
tags: @goldennpalimpsest @hilslovesbyler
december 2026 .
the phone wasn’t even supposed to work.
it had been sat in the back of your grandmother’s closet for years, tangled in old, dusty christmas lights and old chargers that didn’t even fit anything anyone owned anymore.
“vintage!” your friend called it.
“nope, electronic waste.” you corrected.
still, you plugged it in.
suddenly, it rang.
you answered it because it was 2026, an old piece of junk phone wasn’t actually ringing, it was probably just malfunctioning.
“hello?”
static.
“..hello?”
a young man’s voice, definitely not a malfunction.
“who is this?”
“i was about to ask you the same thing.”
you should’ve hung up, but you didn’t.
“tell me who you are first!”
“michael.”
“…michael?”
the line crackled slightly.
“jackson.”
you laughed.
“pfft, yeah right, that’s ridiculous.”
you carried on.
“and i’m rihanna.”
“..who?”
“you don’t know rihanna..?”
“no?..”
“right..”
maybe he was commited to the bit.
“so you’re michael jackson.. right?”
“yes.”
“the michael jackson?”
“i don’t know what you mean by the michael jackson.”
he sounded genuinely confused.
“you sing.”
“yes..”
“billie jean, right?”
“i haven’t.. i haven’t released that yet.”
silence.
you blinked, “excuse me?”
“i said i haven’t released that yet.”
“no i heard you.”
you grabbed your laptop from your bedside table and went to google.
michael jackson “billie jean” release date.
1983.
you frowned.
“wait.”
“what?”
“what did you say your name was again?”
“michael jackson.”
“and.. what year is it?”
“1982.”
you stopped typing, your fingers hovered above the keyboard.
you nervously laughed.
“that’s— that’s not funny.”
“i’m not joking?”
“no.” you shook your head.
“if you’re gonna prank call, atleast use a year after smartphones.”
“smart.. what?”
you went silent for longer this time.
“okay.” you laughed nervously.
“if this is one of those ai voice things, it’s really scarily convincing.”
“.. what’s ai?”
your stomach dropped.
you were slightly whispering now.
“can you.. can you tell me todays date?”
“december 5th.”
“..and the year?”
“1982.”
you looked down to the calender on your laptop screen.
december 5 2026.
44 years, exactly.
neither of you spoke.
until michael broke the silence.
“are you.. still there?”
you swallowed.
“yeah..”
another pause.
“what year did you say it was for you?”
you looked back at the glowing numbers on your screen, then at the old phone in your hand.
“you wouldn’t believe me.”
“i have a feeling.. that i might.”
you stared at the phone.
“2026.”
silence stretched between you.
“twenty.. twenty six.”
he said it like he was just learning numbers for the first time.
“yeah.”
“44 years?”
“yeah.”
“if this is a joke..” he laughed nervously, “it’s a very elaborate one.”
“i could say the same to you!”
“i suppose you could.”
you smiled.
“so.. how can we prove it?” he asked.
“i don’t know..”
“there must be something.”
you glanced around your room slightly, not sure what for though.
your eyes landed on a digital clock placed on your desk.
“i could tell you things about your future.” you suggested.
when he spoke again he sounded slightly different, cautious almost.
“i don’t know if i want to know my future.”
that stopped you, you hadn’t considered that.
you knew what happened during his life, and you wouldn’t want to know either.
“..you’re right,” you said softly. “forget i suggested that.”
“what if..” he started.
“what?”
“if you told me something that’s already happened, something i’d know.”
you frowned.
“like what?”
“i don’t know.” he laughed, “you’re supposed to be from the future.”
you laid back on your bed, staring at the ceiling. thinking.
“okay.. you released thriller in 1982.”
“yes.”
“it became the biggest selling album ever.”
a pause.
“..really?”
“really.”
“..how would you know that?”
“because.. where i’m from everyone knows that.”
for a moment, none of you spoke.
then he spoke, in almost a whisper.
“i always hoped people would remember it, remember me.”
your chest tightened.
“they do.”
you swallowed.
“they really, really do.”
all you could hear now was michael’s breathing.
“i..” he laughed nervously, “don’t really know what to say.”
“you don’t have to.”
“i’ve spent years wondering if any of it truly matters.”
“it does.”
“..how can you be so sure?”
you smiled.
“i just am.”
“thank you.”
you looked out your window.
the city was settling into evening. cars passed beneath your apartment, people walked dogs, someone somewhere was playing music loud enough to hear through the glass.
“so…” you said, “what were you doing before the phone rang?”
“i couldn’t sleep.”
“me neither.”
“i was pacing through my room.” he laughed quietly. “trying to avoid rehearsing.”
“you procrastinate?”
“terribly.”
you grinned.
“that’s actually comforting.”
“why?”
“i don’t know.” you shrugged, even though he couldn’t see it. “it’s nice finding out legends are just people.”
there was a pause.
“…legends?”
you froze.
“…forget I said that.”
“i don’t think I can.”
heat crept onto your face.
“please.”
he chuckled.
“i’ll pretend I didn’t hear it.”
“you’d better.”
“i make no promises.”
for the first time since answering the phone, you laughed without forcing it.
“…you have a nice laugh,” he said.
you blinked.
“so do you.”
another silence.
a comfortable one this time.
“so,” he asked after a while, “what do people do for fun in 2026?”
you smiled.
“oh god, you’re going to regret asking me that.”
“why?”
“because i have to explain the internet.”
“the what?”
you laughed again.
“okay… imagine if your television, your radio, your newspaper, your telephone, your mail, and every library in the world got mashed together.”
“…that sounds exhausting.”
“it kind of is.”
you both laughed.
it’s now been a couple weeks.
you find yourself on the dusty, old telephone talking to michael jackson practically every night.
surprising, you’ve become good friends.
december 29 .
it was again one of those nights where you found yourself sat in bed with the telephone, talking to michael.
“i wish i could meet you.” he said softly.
“like me, right now, with you, right now.. or in the future?”
you laughed, “what?”
“i don’t know! it’s confusing!” he laughed with you, “i just.. wish i could see you, right now.”
your chest tightened slightly.
“me too.”
michael was silent for a moment.
“..well what about me now? in 2026..”
you went silent.
you couldn’t tell him.
you wouldn’t forgive yourself if you told him.
what were you supposed to even say if you were to tell him?
“what about you?”
“can you not meet me?”
“maybe i’ll remember you!”
your heart ached for him.
“you said you didn’t want to know about your future.”
“..well.” his voice softened, “i don’t know.” he admitted.
“you made it sound..” he paused, searching for the word. “complicated.”
you stared at the cord wrapped around your finger.
“it is.”
“but you’re still here.”
“..yeah.”
“you still answer when i call.”
you smiled sadly.
“i’ll always answer when you call.”
the words slipped out before you could stop them.
michael didn’t say anything for a while.
“i think..” his voice barely above a whisper.
“i think if we never meet.. i’d still be glad i knew you.”
your eyes stung.
you laughed slightly to stop yourself from crying.
“you’re making this really difficult.”
“i’m sorry.”
“no, no.” you whispered, “don’t be.”
the line crackled.
for a second, you thought the call was going to end.
“do you think..” michael began, “that some people are just meant to find eachother?”
you looked down at the old telephone sat in your lap.
a phone that should not work.
a phone that should not connect two people 44 years apart.
“..i think,” you said slowly, “maybe..”
another silence settled between the two of you.
comfortable and sad.
neither of you wanted the call to end.
“it’s getting late.” he said eventually.
“it is.”
“i’ll call tomorrow?”
“you’d better.”
he laughed softly.
“i will.”
“..goodnight michael.”
“goodnight.”
the line clicked, static.
then nothing.
you stayed there for a long time holding the receiver to your ear, listening to the empty line, hoping he’d come back.
he didn’t.
you placed the phone on your bedside table.
outside, snow began to fall.
you glanced at the calendar.
december 29 2026 .
for some reason, you just couldn’t shake this feeling that something was bound to change.
On the topic of people infantilizing Michael…which is something I’ve noticed a lot on TikTok and in general being a fan for a long time. His voice, his interests, and his personality are constantly being interpreted as a sign he was mentally another age. The whole Peter Pan syndrome thing (which is a fictional disorder btw) or the belief Michael had a child’s brain in a man’s body are literally just theories based on assumptions. Michael was a grown adult: a brilliant musical genius…a complex human who could be complicated just like everyone else.
So many fans treat him like a perfect god incapable of having any faults, yet refuse to acknowledge his autonomy as a grown man. An adult man who cussed, had mature relationships, and who wasn’t an overgrown baby that fits their innocent projections. It’s one thing to acknowledge Michael’s childhood and how environmental factors shaped his development, but it’s another thing to deny him of his humanness altogether.
The way Michael chose to heal from his traumas or express his inner child doesn’t automatically mean he was a specific “mental age.” Escapism through play, creativity, and imagination aren’t signs that his brain was operating at a specific level. Finding safety in interests and building your own reality creates comfort and stability, especially after growing up in an unstable environment. I know there’s certain language used in fandom culture just for fun, but there really are people who reduce Michael to a one dimensional, naive person. As if he wasn’t this worldly man full of experiences and knowledge that was capable of making his own decisions.
Some fans may not understand the implications with how they view Michael, thinking it helps combat the false allegations, but that level of infantilization can have negative effects. If anything, that rhetoric is often fuel for guilters who theorize Michael was “out of touch with reality” or a predator who believed he was a kid himself. It’s also similar to how tabloids viewed him as “weird” or “stunted” just for how he chose to have fun/decompress. I feel like Michael deserves to be treated with the humanity that he was deprived of and not have every aspect of his life sensationalized. This infantilizing mindset is harmful, not just to Michael, but to any adults who don’t conform to the strict rules of social normalcy. This happens a lot to adults with trauma or neurodivergent disorders, but any person can be mislabeled based on social stigma.
Adults who seem “different” from social pressures often face stereotypes about their emotional complexity, sexual behavior, life experiences, and overall abilities. This mindset reflects a societal focus on linear development and pressures for adulthood to look a certain way (for example telling people to “grow up”). Assigning age levels to certain interests/behavior can create negative biases, such as the ones that surrounded Michael as black man. No one should be falsely judged for how they express joy or having interests that bring genuine happiness.
Michael was much more than a “child in a man’s body” and that type of language is very reductive. Michael was very clear in how he drew the line between “child-like” and “childish,” in his own words. There’s also a very strong racial component to this phenomenon, as Michael may not fit the stereotypes of what a black man should be like, so people tend to create their own projections and treat him like a child instead. There’s just so much more to his art, personality, philosophy, and his legacy as a black artist that gets ignored when he gets infantilized on such a level.
Synopsis: After coming home from an electric party celebrating the release of Michael’s Rock With You MV you get the devilish idea to lick the sweat off him…
Warnings/contents: No use of y/n, fluff, smut,MDNI 18+, sub and soft dom! Michael (he switches bc I said so),handjob,oral (fem receiving), fingering, p in v, no use of condom (plz wrap it before you tap it in this economy), size kink if you squint.*I don’t wanna exclude ppl but reader is intended to be close-ish to be his age (roughly 18-25) bc he was only 21 here.
a/n: I was quickly inspired by the 2nd pic and just how delicious he looks drenched in sweat(sweat is generally gross why does he make it so attractive??) Ik him picking you up might be unrealistic but shh just go with it. Had to add some fluff bc otw mj is so cute I might die. Michael and reader are veryyy lovey dovey so buckle up.
─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───
After an electric party celebrating the Rock With You music video release you and Michael finally found yourselves back at your apartment. Michael found his way over to kitchen pouring himself a large glass of water, chugging it in about 30 seconds. He sighed when he was finished with the glass, immediately opening the fridge to search for his favorite drink, orange juice.
“Baby, do you not have any oj? I can’t find any.” He pouts
“You must be tired. It’s always in the fridge.”
“Well, I can’t find it, can you come help me?” He whines. You walk over to him and peer into the fridge, quickly spotting the orange juice behind a carton of milk. “It’s right here, see?” You point.
“Ohhhh, thank you baby.” He grabs the carton and pours himself and tall glass before heading to the couch. He finds a spot on the couch next to you, his body slumping down like a rag doll.
“Michael, you were amazing tonight.” You praise him.
“Yeah, it was fun.”
“No seriously, you were magnetic, the way you sang I wanna rock with you allll night, dance you into sunlightttt” you sang. “The crowd was glued to you the whole time!”
“Thanks baby. It was fun, but I’m so tired and sweaty I must look gross.” He responds
“Gross? You’re never gross to me Mikey.”
“That’s sweet baby, really but I’m still all sweaty, I need to shower.”
“Why do that when I can lick the sweat off you.” You suggest bitting your lip.
“Babyyy you’re nasty.” His eyes go wide in shock as covers his mouth with his hand.
“God forbid I wanna rock with you all night.” You waggle your eyebrows.
“I- baby.”
“Baby.” Your voice dips to a sultry tone.
“You really wanna do that?”
“I’ve had dreams about it.” Your eyes darken as look at him pulling your bottom lip between your teeth.
“Baby you’re bad.” He responds his beautiful eyes dropping to your lips. You take that as a sign and lean into him, kissing him sweetly your lips meeting his soft plush ones. He kisses you back greedily gently bitting your bottom lip, then slipping his to tongue in your mouth to deepen the kiss. You weaved your fingers through his curls leaning forward to gently push his back down onto the cushions of the couch. He wraps his arms around your waist to pull you closer as you hover over him. You move your hands to cradle his face brushing your thumbs over his now flushed cheeks. “You’re so beautiful my lovely.” You coo.
“You’re too sweet to me angel”
“You deserve all the love in the world, you radiate kindness.”
“Baby” is all he can manage to whisper back as a tear drips down his cheek and he cranes his head up to meet your lips again.
His heart was now fluttering in his chest, he couldn’t believe a girl like you actually loved him, he couldn’t believe anyone loved him as much as you do.
You trail you your hands down him to his chest, slowly working the buttons on his shirt. After pulling the shirt off his damp body you start at his neck laying kiss down till you get to his collar bone. As you kiss him you leave red lipstick marks in your path. You make your way to his chest looking up at him. “Baby open your eyes, I want you to watch me.” He obliged opening his eyes to watch as you began moving your tongue over his defined glistening chest. You keep making your way down him to his stomach but stop when he starts laughing.
“Hehehe that tickles!”
“Oh, sorry should I stop?”
“No.” He says abruptly starring at you lustfully.
“Oh!” You raise your eyebrows in understanding, before continuing. You love the salty sweet taste of his perspiration on your tongue and the warmth of his skin. You make your way to his happy trail before hovering over his pants.
“Oh!” You bit your lip seeing the tent in his pants. “Does this turn you on baby? Me being nasty like this, licking all over your sweaty body?”
“Mmmmm” he hummed in response.
Michael couldn’t believe that you acting so filthy like this would leave him in such a state of arousal, but after all why should he be surprised? You were the thing he loved most after music, and the object of all his desires. How could he ever contain his craving for you. You made his head spin and heart fly as all his rational thought left when you were near. He was a love sick fool for you.
You unzip his pants sliding them down his thighs. Your eyes land on his growing tent, and if at all possible the outline of his cock looks larger than last time you saw it. The palm of your hand starts rubbing circles on his clothed tip, and he bucks his hips while letting out a small moan. You and Michael hadn’t been being intimate for very long, but you already felt you knew exactly how to get him going and how to get him to melt under your touch. You tease him a bit longer before fully pulling away his boxers, revealing his length.
“God Mikey I don’t remember you being quite this big last time.” You gulp.
“Well it didn’t shrink.” This causes you to immediately erupt in loud uncontrollable laughter. “AHAHAHAHA MICHAEL! I can’t focus on what I’m ‘bout to do if you’re gonna be saying stuff like that hahahahaha!”
“I wasn’t tryin’ to be funny.” He admits. “I was just makin’ an observation.” You take a deep breath trying to compose yourself.
“Ok I’m uh gonna focus now.” You say quietly, exhaling. You gingerly wrap your hand around him stroking down once to test the waters. He let out a small whine from the contact and it was hard for you to hide the excited smile growing on your face. You used the slick of his precum to move your hand along the shaft with ease and he began rolling his hips up to match your pace. You use your thumb to rub his tip, and he starts to whimper.
“God baby that- ohhhh feels so good!” His breath shutters. You continue pumping him mercilessly as he keeps jerking his hips desperate to keep up with your steady rhythm.
“You’re such a good boy for me Michael. Are you gonna cum for me soon?” Your voice comes out in a deep sultry tone. He doesn’t answer but his breathing gets more shallow as he struggles to keep up with your hand. You bend down and experimentally lick a long strip from the base of his cock to the tip and that maneuver is what does him in.
“Mmph fuck! Angel I’m gonna- fuckkkk!”
“Good boy cum for me baby, right on my hand.”
His head was currently swirling as he was coming down from his orgasm, but he greedily wanted more. He wanted to be inside you but first he wanted to taste you. Anything Michael did was never half-assed and it was in his own opinion not eating you out was half-assed.
“Mmm baby you’re so good at that.” He praises you.
“Thank you handsome.”
“I wanna taste you angel.” He admits.
“Taste me where? Use your words.” You prompt him.
“That…” gulp. “Pretty pussy of yours.” He nervously answers.
“Hmm I suppose that can be arranged.” You stand up in front of him and pull your dress off, leaving yourself completely bare.
“You-you’re not wearing a bra or panties.” He remarks, eyes wide.
“Just for you baby.”
“D-did you have this in mind the whole night?”
“Maybeee.”
“You should um, sit down again so I can ya know.” You made your way back to the couch laying your back against the cushions. He sat down on his knees in between your legs before cupping under your thighs and pulling them up onto his shoulders.
“Woah this is new.” You giggle.
“Tryin’ somethin’”
“Mm I think I like it.”
“God, you’re so beautiful.” He breathes out.
“Thank you.” You hum. He looks up at you with his big doe eyes and you almost loose focus, until you feel his hot breath hovering your clit and your own breath hitches in anticipation. His mouth lands on your clit with a burning passion and starts sucking it fiercely. His tongue then swirls circles on your clit and you can help but to fill the room with loud moans of his name. His mouth leaves your sensitive bud, and his tongue teases your entrance before he suddenly plunges two fingers in at once and a gasp of pleasure escapes your lips. His fingers work at a steady pace as his mouth finds its way back to your clit leaving you to desperately cling the cushion below you.
“Mmmm fuckkk baby, how did you get so good at this?”
“Been studying’”
“With what? Another woman?” You tease.
“No, uh Jermaine leant me a magazine and gave me a few pointers.” He veers his gaze down shyly before continuing to finger fuck you into oblivion. He curls his fingers inside you and the cushion no longer being good enough for you, your hands reach up to the nape of his neck, your fingers gripping his hair. He scissors his fingers inside you and you try to hold back the tears forming in your eyes from pure ecstasy. The pace at which his fingers are pumping inside you, paired with his tongue working your clit, you are already approaching your peak.
“Angel is it good?”
“Is it good? Is it good?! I’m gonna fuckkkk! Sorry!”
“Don’t be sorry sweet girl. Go ahead cum all over my face, I wanna taste it gorgeous.”
“Are you sure?”
“Positive.” The tension in your stomach finally snaps and you cry loudly in pleasure. He continues with his fingers and tongue and he laps up every drop from your orgasm. Then, as if licking your clit wasn’t enough, after he finally pulls his fingers out of you he put them in his mouth, making direct eye contact with you as he licks them clean.
“Taste so good baby.”
“I- oh- wow!” You respond still catching your breath. You sit up lips crashing into him, with more hunger than before as your hands roam his body unable to stay in one place. He pulls your legs to wrap around his waist his hands landing on your ass, kneading the soft tissue. He grips you firmly to stand as he hold you.
“Where are we going?” You whisper in between kisses.
“Bedroom.” He smiles at you. He carries you the short walk to the bedroom and throws you onto the bed and you let out a small yelp in surprise. He crawls over you, in between your legs.
“Spread them legs beautiful” he commands lining himself up. You open your legs as wide as you can for him. He picks up some of your slick on his cock and teases your clit with his tip, before slowly entering you, filling you up inch by inch. Once fully seated a panicked look spreads across his face.
“Baby what’s wrong?”
“I- I forgot a condom.” He responds.
“Don’t worry Mikey I got on birth control after our first time.”
“Ohhh thank god.” He lets out a sigh of relief.
Michael hoped to eventually have kids with you, but his mother would tear him a new one if she found out he got a girl pregnant out of wedlock. Not to mention you were both so young and there was no reason to rush things.
He starts off at a quick rhythmic pace that gives almost no time for you to adjust to his size, but you don’t mind as the stretch is wonderfully delicious. He grabs your wrists and moves your arms above your head lacing his fingers with yours. You loved when he took control like this. Since Michael was so shy in public many people would never expect him to have this side, but you loved when he had his way with you. He sweeps down to lay kisses all over your face and whisper sweet nothings in your ear.
“Baby you’re so beautiful like this. All mine angel, all mine. My gorgeous, gorgeous girl.”
“Mm I- ahh can… we…try…somethin’…new?”
You mange between thrusts.
“What… would… that… be…baby?” He pants out.
“I’ll show you but you have to pull out for a sec.” He pulls out of you, which despite being the one to request it you still whine at the feeling. You then position yourself so you’re sitting on your knees and your ass is in the air facing him.
“Ohh goddd.” He groans seeing you at this new angle. “Is it still gonna fit?”
“It should, the book um said you could get deeper this way.” You explain.
“Book?”
“I did my research too baby.” You crane your head to smile at him.
“Ohhh goddd.” He repeats himself, mind fuzzy now.
“I’m all yours Michael, this dripping pussy is all for you.” As he sinks into you again the two of you groan in tandem from pleasure. Each snap of his hips has your eyes rolling back in your head and his tip keeps hitting right in the spot, pleasure takes over your body.
“Mmm fuck angel you’re so deep and tight. God, squeezin’ me so good.” He praises.
“Mmmmm gahhh” you cry out but your voice is muffled by the mattress. You can feel your walls clench around him and each time his cock pumps into you the feeling of being filled so completely overwhelms you and can feel your second orgasm quick approaching. Michael must’ve been reading your mind because one of his arms snakes around your middle and his finger finds your clit drawing circles.
“Mmm so close pretty girl cum with me please.”
“I- ahh right there Michael, right there!”
“Can’t… hold… much… longer!”
“Yes! Yes! Oh godddd!” You scream as the two of you hit your peak at the same time. You feel his hot seed fill you up and he pants heavily trying to ride out his orgasm. You reach down between the two of you getting the aftermath of what you just did and put your finger in your mouth looking back at him as do so.
“Baby… that’s nasty.”
“Nasty? You eating me earlier wasn’t.” You counter. “Here you should taste it for yourself.” You bring your finger back down between you getting them wet again before bringing them up to his mouth. He opens his mouth letting your fingers in then sucks them clean.
“You’re a freaky little thing.”
“I’m your freaky little thing.” You respond back.
“Ahaha you’re right.” He laughs. “Ok I gotta get up now to draw us a bath.”
“Mm why?” You whine.
“Can’t stay like forever, and won’t a bath make you feel relaxed?”
“Mm fine. Will you use the lavender bubble bath?”
“Of course beautiful.”
Michael had made it a habit of his to always clean you up someway after sex. He loved to take care of you and he felt it should be standard for being a good boyfriend. Taking a bath was your favorite choice as you could continue the closeness while being relaxed and comfortable.
You step into the warm bath sitting down in front of him. He starts by slowly massaging your shoulders and you melt from his touch. He then wraps his arms around you bringing you flush with his chest he just holds you close in that warm embrace for a while.
You fall asleep against him in the tub, and you wake up finding yourself in your robe carefully tucked into the bed. You look over and see Michael dead asleep next to you quietly snoring. You lean over and whisper “I love you” to his unconscious body before kissing him on the cheek and drifting back to a peaceful slumber.
genre: fluff, suggestive, one-shot, domestic au, established relationship, proposal, any era!mj
synopsis: michael had never been more sure of a decision in his life until now which is proposing to you. so he planned a proposal with reassurance from tito… except the plan was planting the ring in your favourite cereal.
word count: 3.3k
warnings: slightly suggestive, eluding to sex but no actual descriptions/activity, might be slight ooc territory, mj cursing once, fem! reader, reader insert, no race specified for reader, ass mentioned, cringe dialogue?
“Fuck.” an incredibly rare curse came from Michael as he ran his fingers through waves and aggressively ruffled them before he sighed in pure frustration, wrecked with nerves. “What if she doesn’t like it?” he wondered to himself, agonising over the situation as he looked down at the tiny velvet box in his large hand. The box encased an object so small, so delicate yet so priceless and it undoubtedly held the power to determine his future. “What if she says no?” he said to himself as he gripped the box tightly in his grasp. “What if I’m rushing this? What if she isn’t ready?” His negative thoughts consumed him. This time Michael gripped the front of his shirt and dragged it over his head to momentarily suffocate himself but really he just didn’t know what to do with himself.
He went to the telephone in the kitchen and dialed Tito, he was the older brother, surely he would be able to help? Tito picked up on the third ring. “Have you done it yet?” Tito asked. “No. I’m terrified, what if she doesn’t like the ring? What if she’s not ready? Or worse, what if she says no?” he rushed in one breath, on the verge of hyperventilation. “Woah woah woah, chill out, man! Why would she say no? She’s head over heels for you! Why on earth do you think she’ll say no? That’s crazy talk. If she’s not ready, then nothing. You talk it out and give her the time she needs. Everything will be fine, just communicate. I’m very sure she’ll say yes so stop worrying.” Tito said reassuringly.
“Maybe this is a dumb plan. Should I just ask her out on a date and do it the old fashioned way?” Michael asked as he chewed on his bottom lip. “Look, that’s up to you. Honestly, it’s kind of a dumb plan but in a cute way. There’s nothing wrong with popping the question at a restaurant but knowing how private the two of you are, I’m sure she’ll appreciate you asking in the comfort of your own home. Plus, she’s got a great sense of humour, she might even find the whole situation funny.” Tito reasoned.
“I mean I could just book out a restaurant for the evening.” Michael said with a nervous giggle. “Mike.” Tito deadpanned and he could almost see the face. “You’re right, you’re right. I’m just… really nervous Tito.” Michael said. “Honestly, you have nothing to worry about. She’s gonna say yes. I know it.” Tito said, ever the calm, collected and dependable brother who always knew what to say. Michael said his thank you’s and goodbyes and ended the call.
Michael quickly walked to and then opened the cabinet to grab the box of your favourite cereal, he opened the packet inside the cardboard box and took out the ring box from his pocket. “Here goes nothing.” he breathed out. He flipped open the box to reveal the stunning ring with an elegant gem set on an encrusted band like a centerpiece to behold, it glittered brilliantly in the soft morning rays, for a moment all he could do was just stare at it in awe as his heartbeat slowly calmed. This one small object would determine his future and it symbolised his never-ending love for you. This ring meant his love for you was ultimate.
He spent some time imagining this beautiful ring settled on your ring finger, his mark on you, one of his many vows to you. What if it was an heirloom to pass down to your kids? Maybe a daughter? “A baby girl?” Michael thought to himself as he gazed out of the kitchen window, his eyes held a faraway look as he got lost in a daydream of your lives intertwined.
Yes, he wanted children with you. He wanted to grow old and wrinkly with you, teach your kids how to swim, scare off any boys from your girls and teach how to respect women to your sons. He wanted to come home to hold you in his arms after a long day of hard work, he wanted to take care of you, he wanted to make sweet love to you, he wanted a home filled with laughter and love. He wanted all the arguments knowing at the end of the day, you’ll still coax each other to fall asleep in each others’ arms, he wanted the late nights, he wanted to help your kids with homework or bandage their knees when they’re hurt after playing. Michael wanted to build a life with you. He wanted it all- the good, the bad, the ugly. All you had to do was say yes.
After he inhaled a deep breath, Michael took out the ring and dropped it into the cereal packet, he made sure it was at the very top so it would fall out on the first pour. He placed the box back in the cabinet as if it was untouched. The deed was done, now all he had to do was wait for you to wake up from your slumber.
Unless, he just woke you up, now that was a great plan he had no issue executing.
With a mischievous yet beaming smile, Michael ran to the bedroom and gently opened the door and his eyes fell on your form sleeping peacefully. The curtains were drawn but the morning light still illuminated the room in a soft, ambient glow. You wore pajama shorts and one of his shirts, your body moved in sync with your slow breaths, and one leg was propped up on a pillow taking Michael’s place. He stood at the door for a few beats because simply watching you sleep just made him fall in love all over again. You were his endgame and it will always be you.
He trudged towards the bed and slipped onto his side, he used a warm hand to trace his way from your bare leg before resting it on your stomach, the shirt had ridden up in your sleep to expose your soft skin. He loomed over your face to see your soft lips, smooth from the lip balm you applied before bed just slightly pouting in sleep and your eyelashes occasionally fluttered. He wondered what you were dreaming about. How could you sleep so soundly while he sat there, a nervous wreck?
He couldn’t afford to get sidetracked so he got to work as he started pecking the back of your neck and trailing his lips to dip between your neck and shoulder where he knew you were a bit sensitive, his favourite spot. He trailed his lips up to place wet kisses behind your ear where he knew you were a bit ticklish.
There were some mildly red and purple splotches around your décolletage from the previous night which made him smirk with giddiness. He kissed the same darkened spots a few times before he heard a whine from you and you scratched at the area. You still didn’t wake up but shifted to lay flat on your back instead.
Well, you had just unknowingly made Michael’s job way easier for him. He littered kisses all over your neck as he softly rubbed his fingers over your hip bones and your soft stomach, delighting in the goosebumps spreading over your skin. “Angel?” he called out gently. Another short whine tore from your throat, not wanting to wake up. He kissed your neck more before moving to kiss your cheeks, then your forehead, “Wake up, mama.”
Your eyelids fluttered open before they closed again, you released a slightly frustrated breath. “Whyyyy?” you whined before trying to shift to your side again and away from your boyfriend but obviously he wasn’t going to let you because he had pinned you down by gripping your torso. He nestled his face into the same crook in your neck and pressed more kisses there, “You have to wake up.” “Alright alright, I’m up.” you groaned and tiredly opened your eyes, rapidly blinking to clear the bleariness from your gaze out.
“Why are you so reluctant to wake up today?” he asked, the grin in his voice was tangible. Michael didn’t have to ask because he already knew the answer, he just wanted to be coy. “Because someone needed help with a very hard problem at midnight.” you quipped sassily, eyes still closed. “Careful, you’ll wake the beast again.” he warned, jokingly. You huffed and reached up to lightly flick his forehead in retaliation, a hoarse chuckle escaped despite you not wanting to encourage his tomfoolery early in the morning, “I can’t believe that just came out of your mouth. You’re such a dork.” “Yes but I’m your dork, baby.” he teased as his voice deepened, his eyes were bright with mirth and you giggled in response, the shakes from your body made him feel even warmer.
Your laugh tinged with the huskiness in your throat from being used for the better part of the previous night, layered with sleep caused a deep flutter in his heart. “I really want to kiss you right now.” he voiced quietly so as not to disrupt the tranquility of the morning and this bubble of peace you two were in. Your hands half-heartedly pushed at his chest, “Morning breath.” Michael stared down at you incredulously, if only you knew what his plan was, “Baby, we’ve been dating for far too long for you to be saying this. Now stop playing in my face and give in.”
“I love it when you’re so passionate, baby.” you smirked. You were so seductive, so perfect- the post-sex glow and morning light made you look ethereal. “You bring it out of me, mama. All I wanna do is love on you.” he rasped. Clearly, you didn’t need any more convincing and Michael promptly swooped down to capture your soft lips, sweet from the balm and your eyelids fluttered shut. This is what Michael wanted for the rest of his life, this feeling of pure bliss he found only with you. For him, this was the best feeling in the world- just being able to pour all his love on you. Michael was someone with a lot of love to give and he was glad you were his recipient.
He pulled away to rest his forehead against yours while you caught your breath, “So warm.” he slightly slurred out, a hand reaching out, he used his thumb to trace your bottom lip before your lips met again with a bruising force. He bit your lip and your mouth parted in a soft moan before he slowly slid his tongue in. You gently grasped his jaw with one hand, tilting his face for a better angle as your other hand caressed over his shoulder and you smiled when he shuddered under your touch. This was how the next ten minutes or so were spent- just slow and languid kisses in bed, hands wandering and not being able to have enough of each other.
A slow rumbling resounded and Michael realised he forgot his original mission. “Damn, I got carried away.” he thought to himself. “I think someone’s hungry.” he mused as he stared into your eyes, glazed from sleep and a tinge of lust from his kisses. “Gimme a few minutes, I’ll be out.” you said as you placed a final peck to his lips and got up from the bed, stretching your arms high over your head as you walked to the bathroom, and Michael simply watched your beautiful form, bare legs and hips sashaying.
It dawned on him again and his heart thundered as his palms started sweating. “Oh god, it’s happening.” his teeth worried his bottom lip. So focused on his own thoughts, he didn’t realise you came out of the bathroom until you called out for him. Michael jumped off the bed as if he wasn’t just contemplating his future. “So, cereal?” he asked, casually. You laughed as you reached out to place a kiss on his cheek, “You know me so well.” “I know, it’s almost like we’ve been dating for years.” he quipped with sarcasm and then smacked your ass, making you yelp.
You both made your way to the kitchen, he walked to the cabinet to get bowls and spoons for the two of you and walked to the living room while you grabbed the cereal box, doing a very good job of hiding the fact that there was a very expensive ring inside the box of cereal and that he had nothing to do with it. He tried and failed to avoid looking at the box as much as possible to avoid suspicion.
You sat down on the couch as he handed you a bowl. He stared at the box in your hands, glaring holes through it but you didn’t notice. You tilted the box into the bowl and the crunchy, flakes fell out in a golden stream until you heard a loud thunk. “What was that?” you asked as you felt bewildered.
Michael shrugged, he was breaking into cold sweat now. You fingered the golden flakes around and felt something cold, gripping the object between your fingers you pulled it out. “What in the-?” you gasped, looking at the probably most gorgeous piece of jewelry you’ve ever laid your comically wide eyes on. “How did this even get here?” you squealed in shock, losing your mind. Your first instinct was to grab the box and look at it for some kind of advertisement saying a lucky winner would win an expensive ring or something but there wasn’t any. In your excitement, you had failed to notice Michael taking the ring from your hands and getting down on his knee.
“Angel?” he called out. You looked to the side to see Michael on the ground, holding the ring up. You couldn’t help but quietly gasp in shock as your hands reached up to cover your mouth, “Oh.” Michael reached out a hand as he cleared his throat and you placed yours in his to which he squeezed it back. “From the very first time I laid eyes on you, I knew I had to secure just one date with you. I remember practicing how to ask you out in the mirror. Jackie had to give me a pep talk. I’ve always known you were special since the beginning, I just didn't know how special. But now I realise special isn’t even enough to describe how much you mean to me.” He paused to take a breath, trying to keep his voice steady but he felt choked up.
By this point your tears from your glimmering eyes were free flowing like twin rivers down your cheeks and onto your lap as you stared at him wide-eyed, his own pretty eyes were slightly shiny. “No word in the dictionary will ever be enough to describe what I feel for you, how much I yearn for you. I could write an entire album about what I feel for you, and it still won’t be enough. Whenever I wake up in the morning to see you next to me, I feel the need to just say thank you to God, and just think how lucky I am that the sweetest and most beautiful girl is sleeping right next to me. I think about you every time I’m in the studio, at rehearsals, when I’m in meetings, when I go on tour. You undo me.” He took another shaky breath. You didn't dare to make a sound as you cried silently but your heart had already spoken.
“You’re the girl of my dreams, the woman I want to grow old with and it would make me the happiest man on this planet if you gave me the honour of being your husband. [reader] will you marry me?” he finished. You were already nodding before he even started to ask the question, “Yes yes yes! A thousand times YES!” you said as you got off the couch to tackle him in a tight hug, burying your face in his neck, your tears wetted the spot. Michael pulled away to grab your hand and you had to just stare in awe as he slipped the ring onto your ring finger with utmost care. “Oh, Mikey, it’s so beautiful.” you said as you raised your hand to watch it glint with the shifting light. “Not as beautiful as you, baby.” he said.
This was a good time to say something as a rebuttal but you didn’t care enough. Seems like the ring itself undid something in you as you crashed your lips down on his and your hands reached to grip at the curls at the nape of his neck. “Bedroom” you breathed between kisses. “Too far.” Michael growled as he flipped the incline to tackle you to the floor without breaking contact between your lips. You reached down to tug violently at his t-shirt, Michael got the hint and pulled away to yank the annoying material and fling it to some corner of the room before reattaching his lips to yours.
His lips trailed down to hungrily litter your neck with kisses before he heard a shrill ring. You yelped as he bit down on your sensitive spot, “Mikey…” you moaned before you continued, “The phone.” you finished with great difficulty. “It’s fine, it’ll stop ringing.” he said before he reached back to press his lips to yours again, not wanting to be parted from you for a second. Goodness, kissing you would never get old, your lips were his favourite addiction. “It might be important.” you said shakily as you pulled away to stare at his lust-addled eyes but he was persistent as he chased after your lips. The phone, in fact, did not stop ringing.
“Arghh, fine!” he wrenched himself from your delectable body and shouted as he sat up, he marched to the kitchen and swiped the phone to answer the call. “Hello?” he asked, extremely annoyed. “Did it happen yet?” Tito asked impatiently. Michael smirked as he looked back at you, “She said yes.” You didn’t need to be near the phone to hear a chorus of many voices cheer gleefully on the other end. “Congratulations!” “Big up Mike!” “I’m the best man!” “Is it gonna be a destination wedding?” “Where you goin’ for the honeymoon, Mike?” a string of questions and statements flew in, all you could do was laugh.
“Alright alright, thank you everyone but we’ll talk about the wedding later, I have pressing matters to attend to.” Michael urged. “What could possibly be more important than discussing your own wedding right now?” he heard La Toya ask. “Uhh, Toya. I don’t think-” Tito began to say. “OH Y’ALL ARE NASTY!” he heard Marlon shriek. “Alright, we’ll talk to you later then. Uhhhh- you kids be careful.” Jackie said into the phone before the call abruptly ended.
“What just happened?” you asked. “Does it matter?” Michael absentmindedly retorted as he began stalking back towards you, his once pretty eyes now looked hungry. You gasped as he dragged you up by the torso from the carpeted floor and plopped you on the couch. You smiled at him, utterly lovesick and he stared at you with a loving gaze that was so intense, you felt warmth from your roots to your toes. “I love you.” you breathed. “I love you.” he said it back. He reached down to seal your lips in another heated kiss, his body provided a comfortable weight on top of you as you sighed.
…
“Y’know, it just dawned on me that you put a freaking RING in a cereal box. Michael, you’re so lame.” “Only for you, baby.”
masterlist
a/n: I'M BAAACK. did you miss me? i had a blast writing this. not sure if michael would propose in this way but i wanted to write something fluffy and cracked. i am not the biggest fan of the jacksons so i sincerely apologise if the dialogue isn't akin to their behaviour or upto par.
taglist: @brownsugarletters @hannimite @cermoore @michaelssugarbby @miratate @liberiangirl7 @izzyy8 @botdfaholic @stormatsea6 @bloodyellenlost @naturallykae @backupschmuck @thabiddie23 @mal3volentr0se @mjfan4ever @wisejudgedragonhairdo @gingerrsnapp @hyacinthmelliot @waywardgirl83 @kalista-101 @izkzauyloitz @luzziii-luvv @cecpizzarocks @kim4tro @domfikeluva @navydotz (lmk if you wanna be tagged in future works or you wanna opt out!)
DISCLAIMER: My writing is my own work and from my own mind. I do NOT use generative AI. Please do not reuse or reupload my works as your own or on other platforms. Please do not use my works for translational purposes.
MJ’s Tinkerbell ✨ @mjstinkerbell - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
