content: It's basically just a lot of smut (so MDNI) - jealousy, orgasm denial, mock sympathy, praising, teasing, overstimulating, Michael being a soft dom, kissing, fingering, eating you out, fucking
summary: Michael grows increasingly jealous during a public event after noticing another man’s attention toward you. The tension builds on the drive home and finally breaks once you’re alone, leading to a private confrontation that reveals his possessive feelings and deep emotional attachment to you.
also u can imagine any of mjs eras. though i think his mature era matches this well
word count: 5000
Michael had been quieter than usual all day. At the charity event, no one else would have noticed. He smiled when expected, charmed every guest effortlessly, and carried every conversation with practiced ease.
But you knew him too well.
You noticed the tension in his jaw whenever a certain guest lingered too long beside you. The way his hand kept finding your waist throughout the evening, his fingers pressing just a little harder each time.
By the drive home, the tension was impossible to ignore.
“You’ve been quiet,” you said softly. “Have I?” The calmness in his tone only deepened your suspicion. After a long silence, he finally glanced your way.
“You seemed to enjoy yourself tonight.” The quiet comment made your stomach tighten. He was jealous. And the realization sent heat through you. The rest of the drive passed in silence.
By the time you reached home, your pulse was already racing. He said nothing as he led you upstairs.
Once inside the bedroom, he quietly shut the door. You barely made it two steps before his hand caught your wrist. Firm, certain.
The pull turned you toward him. Michael said nothing at first. He only looked at you. And whatever restraint he'd been holding onto all evening was gone.
"What was his name?" The question was low, controlled. Your brows drew together. "What?"
"The man you spent half the evening smiling at." His fingers tightened slightly around your wrist. "What is his name?" Realization bloomed. And before you could answer, Michael stepped closer. Close enough to heat roll off him. "You seemed very interested in whatever he had to say."
His hand slid to your waist, fingers spreading possessively over your side. Your breath hitched, and Michael noticed. His gaze dropped briefly to your mouth before lifting back to your eyes.
"Tell me." His thumb pressed into your waist. "Was I supposed to enjoy watching that?" The quiet jealousy in his voice sent heat rushing through you.
"Michael, I was just being polite." A humorless smile touched his lips. "Were you?"
His hand moved higher, settling at the back of your neck, his fingers threading lightly into your hair. Not rough, but possessive enough to make your pulse jump.
"Because from where I was standing," he murmured, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you, "it looked like he had your full attention."
His forehead brushed yours. "And all night, I've been thinking about reminding you exactly who you belong to." The words sent heat through your body.
His gaze dropped to your lips. "Tell me I'm wrong," he whispered, his mouth brushing yours with every word. "Tell me you didn't notice what you were doing to me."
You opened your mouth to answer.
But before you could, Michael kissed you. Deeply, possessively. The force of it stole your breath instantly.
His hand tightened in your hair while the other held your waist firmly against him, leaving no space between your bodies. The kiss was hungry, claiming, full of all the tension he'd buried behind silence for hours. Heat rushed through you so fast your knees nearly gave out. When he finally pulled back, both of you were breathing hard.
Michael’s dark gaze lingered on your flushed face, taking in your parted lips and dazed expression. "God, you look so beautiful like this."
His fingers slid slowly along the back of your neck before his lips brushed softly against your cheek, then lower to your jaw.
"You made me spend all night wondering how quickly I could make you forget he ever had your attention," he whispered against your ear. He bit the spot right below your ear lightly, then kissed it. A sound of pleasure escaped your lips.
And a shiver ran through you. Michael noticed instantly. A quiet hum of approval vibrated against your skin as his mouth moved to your neck, leaving slow, deliberate kisses that made your breath catch.
“That's right,” he murmured. “Let me hear it.” You reached for him instinctively, clutching at his shirt.
He kissed lower, lingering just long enough to leave marks.
His hand tightened at the small of your back as he lifted his head to meet your gaze. "Look at me."
The quiet command made your breath catch. Before you could respond, his mouth claimed yours again - harder this time, hungrier.
His hand slid into your hair, tilting your head exactly how he wanted as he guided you backward. You barely realized he was moving you until the backs of your legs hit the edge of the bed. A startled gasp escaped you.
Michael swallowed the sound with a low groan, deepening the kiss. "Careful," he murmured roughly. His hand pressed more firmly at your back. And when your knees finally gave out, you sank onto the mattress.
Michael followed instantly, one hand braced beside your head while the other stayed firm at your waist, holding you exactly where he wanted you.
For a moment, he simply hovered over you. Breathing hard.
His dark gaze moved slowly over your flushed face, your parted lips, the hickeys already blooming along your neck. "So pretty all marked up for me." A rush of heat flooded your face. "But it's not enough."
His hand slid slowly down your side as he lowered himself over you, his lips trailing soft kisses down your throat, over your collarbone, lower and lower until they reached the bare skin of your stomach. The touch made your breath hitch. His fingers hooked beneath the hem of your shirt, lifting it slowly as his mouth followed the newly exposed skin. Each kiss was slow, soft. Like he was taking his time memorizing every inch of you. When his lips reached the spot just below your bra, he finally pulled the shirt over your head and tossed it aside.
For a moment, he simply looked at you. His dark gaze lingered over your body with quiet hunger. Then his mouth found your chest. The first kisses were soft. Almost teasing. Gentle brushes of his lips that made your pulse race with anticipation. But then they deepened. Lingering longer. Pressing harder. Until warmth bloomed across your skin and you knew he was leaving marks there too.
A quiet sound escaped your lips. Michael paused. "Tell me you love me." The words were low. Not a command, a need. As if after everything he'd felt tonight, he needed to hear it. His mouth returned to your skin, trailing another lingering kiss as he waited.
"I love you," you breathed, your voice shaky. He went still. Then slowly lifted his head. His eyes locked onto yours. "You love who?" The question sent your heart racing. He rose over you, one hand lifting to cradle your jaw. His fingers tightened just enough to keep your attention fixed on him.
"And look at me with those pretty eyes when you say it." Your breath caught. The intensity in his gaze made your pulse pound. "I love you, Michael." For a moment, he simply stared at you. And something in his expression softened. The tension that had been simmering in him all evening finally eased, replaced by something deeper. Something almost vulnerable. His thumb brushed gently across your cheek. A quiet exhale left him, almost like relief. Then he leaned down until his lips barely brushed yours.
"I love you more, Y/N." The whisper was soft. And then he kissed you on the lips again. Slowly this time. Deeply. Like he was trying to say everything he didn't know how to put into words.
His hand reached your chest, kissing you as he squeezed it possessively. Then his hand slowly slid down, all the way from your boobs to the top of your jeans. Without breaking eye contact, he unfastened them, impatience creeping into the motion as he slipped his hand beneath the fabric. Your breathing gets heavier as his fingers find your entrance through your drenched panties, slowly feeling it out. "So wet for me already?"
Your body went still for a moment, breath catching as the closeness of him overwhelmed you. It wasn’t just what he was doing in your pants - it was the way he was looking at you, his eyes full of love and lust for you. Hungry for you and only you. "Michael…" you whispered in need for more, your hands instinctively finding his wrists - not to stop him, but to anchor yourself. "You want more? So greedy." he says teasingly.
His long fingers started to rub you through your panties. Massaging your clit slowly, using enough pressure to make you hitch. Soft moans escaped against his lips, and Michael pulled back just enough to watch your face. His gaze traced every detail - the way your lashes fluttered, the way your lips parted, the way your breathing grew uneven beneath his touch. He looked almost fascinated by it, like he was savoring the sight of how easily he could undo you. He wanted to know how good he was making you feel as his hand slid under your panties, touching your clit directly now. He watched your reactions closely.
You can't help but moan softly and shutter under his touch. A quiet chuckle escaped him while looking at you with that dazed, lustful look. "That's right." he murmured, his index and middle finger moving in circles. "I bet he couldn't make you look like this even if he tried."
His two fingers started to move dangerously close to your entrance. "All that talking he did, all that trying to get your attention…" His voice dropped lower, his fingers slowing almost teasingly. "And still, this is who you’re getting off to tonight."
"Michael-" the protest barely left your lips before your words turned into a sharp gasp as he slid his two fingers inside you. He pushed them all the way in, to the deep sweet spot. Your whole body jolted, your fingers instinctively tightening around his wrist as your head tipped back for a second. Heat rushed to your face instantly, embarrassment and pleasure tangling together as the sound that escaped you was far louder than you meant it to be.
"What is it?" he asked softly, almost sweetly. "Too much for you?" The sympathy in his tone was obviously fake - teasing, amused, and somehow even more overwhelming because of how gently he said it.
Before you could force out a response, his fingers inside you started to move.
In and out.
Slowly at first, but still applying pressure in all the right places. You felt so weak under his touch, like you were melting into it.
His fingers gradually picked up speed. "And how about this?" His fingers slid deeper inside you, your walls desperately clenching around his long fingers as they filled you. The pleasure began to build deep within your body.
"Don't stop," you whimpered breathlessly.
Michael could feel the way you clenched around him, the tremble running through your body, how completely lost you were in the pleasure. Everything coming from you was real, raw, and he loved seeing this side of you.
The friction inside you was becoming too much. You could feel your breaking point getting closer.
"Michael, I-"
He noticed every sign your body gave him, every small indication that your orgasm was approaching.
"No. Don’t come until I say so, okay, honey?" He spoke in a soft, sweet voice just inches from your face.
Then he kissed your forehead gently as he sped up his pace again, making it even harder for you to hold on—to obey him.
And he knew exactly what he was doing. He loved watching you struggle beneath the pleasure. Your moans grew louder, your breathing uneven as he worked his fingers inside you without mercy.
"Michael, I can't… I can't hold it," you finally breathed out.
"Just be a good girl and hold it for me, okay?" Again, that soft voice. The contrast between his tone and what he was doing made you clench even harder.
"But I really can't anymore, I-"
Before you could finish, he interrupted. "You can. You’re my sweet girl, right? So just listen to me."
His other hand rested against your lower stomach, applying light pressure that only intensified the pleasure.
Your body felt completely out of control, but you still tried your best, not wanting to disappoint him.
But it was too much. You couldn't do it anymore. Your orgasm was dangerously close. Your hand wrapped around his wrist, trying weakly to slow him down.
He noticed immediately - in your moans, in the way your grip tightened, in the trembling that had taken over your body.
You were about to come. He couldn't let that happen. So he slowed his movements, his lips still pressed to your forehead. "Shh, shh. Not yet, my angel. I told you to wait, didn't I?" he whispered against your skin, sending shivers down your spine.
Your hips moved subconsciously against his fingers, your body craving more.
"I'm sorry, I couldn't hold it-"
He interrupted you again, pressing his thumb gently to your lips before sliding it downward.
"Shh, baby. It's okay. I know it's hard, angel. But you have to listen to me, understand?"
His other hand gripped your waist, squeezing firmly. You nodded, unable to look away from him, from the intense eye fucking situation you had going on now.
He leaned closer to your ear. "Good," he whispered. Then he leaned back, his hands moving to your jeans and slowly pulling them off.
After that, he positioned himself between your thighs, his hands gripping your hips as he pulled you closer to him.
"Let me see." His gaze dropped to where your panties still clung to you. The damp fabric stuck to your skin, outlining every detail and making your breath hitch under the intensity of his stare.
"So wet," he murmured to himself, his voice low with satisfaction.
His eyes lingered there for a moment before lifting back to your face. "Were you this wet when you were talking to him earlier, hm?" He waited for your answer, his expression dark and expectant.
"No…" At your response, Michael looked at you in a way that said everything without needing words. His gaze alone made it clear - only he could make you feel this good. And deep down, you knew he was right. Nothing compared to the way he touched you, the way he made you feel.
"Thought so," he said quietly. His eyes dropped back between your legs, drawn once again to the damp fabric.
Then he leaned closer. His lips brushed against your inner thigh, pressing soft, delicate kisses against your skin. At first, they were light - almost teasing.
But slowly they grew deeper, firmer, more deliberate. He was marking you again.
The closeness of his mouth, the heat of his breath, the way he stayed just near enough without giving you what you wanted most - it made patience nearly impossible.
Then he moved even closer to your panties. His nose hovered just above the soaked fabric, his breath warm against you.
Still not touching. Not yet.
Your hips shifted forward instinctively, desperate for more. A slow smile spread across his lips against your skin. He knew exactly what he was doing. He knew exactly what he was making you feel.
"So impatient," he murmured, his smile widening as his fingers tightened slightly against your hips. "You really need my touch that badly?"
"I need you so bad, Michael. Please." The desperation in your voice made something dark flicker in his expression.
Without another word, his lips caught the thin fabric between his teeth, slowly tugging your panties down while keeping eye contact with you. The motion was deliberate, torturously slow, as though he wanted to savor every second of your anticipation.
When the fabric finally slipped away, his eyes lingered to the wet mess of a pussy. The hunger in his gaze made heat rush through your entire body. "Look at you," he said softly almost in awe, "so pretty and wet for me."
Then he leaned in, kissing your clit. The first kiss was featherlight, barely there, just enough to make your breath hitch. Then another. And another. Each one lingered longer than the last, his mouth teasing you with maddening precision. You trembled beneath him.
He glanced up, watching your face carefully, studying every reaction - the way your lips parted, the way your chest rose and fell faster, the way your body instinctively tried to move closer.
Satisfied, he let his tongue drag slowly upward, the warmth of it sending a sharp shiver through you. A helpless moan escaped your lips. Michael's eyes darkened. He repeated the motion, slower this time, deliberate enough to make every nerve ending light up.
Then his attention narrowed to only your clit, his focus sharpening as he became more precise, more intentional, every movement designed to draw another sound from you. Your fingers tangled in his hair near the nape of his neck. Your hips rolled forward instinctively.
A quiet chuckle vibrated against your skin. "Go on," he murmured. "If you need it that badly, take what you want."
He held still, his tongue waiting, forcing you to move against him. The desperation burning through you made your body obey before your mind could think. You moved your hips against his tongue carefully at first, then faster, chasing the friction, the pressure, the relief he was letting you earn.
Michael watched with dark satisfaction, his grip tightening. Seeing you so undone, so willing, pushed him past restraint. A low groan escaped him.
Before you could adjust, his hands locked firmly against your hips, holding you still. "Enough."
And then he took control again. The sudden intensity stole the breath from your lungs. His mouth moved with renewed purpose, no longer teasing, no longer patient.
The pressure built rapidly, wave after wave crashing through you until your body was trembling uncontrollably. He puts his fingers inside you again, the added sensation making your entire body tense. You were so close. "Michael-" your voice broke. "Please... can I-" His only answer was a low murmur against your skin. "No." The single word sent a shudder through you. "Hold it for me."
His voice was soft, almost affectionate, but his grip made it clear he expected obedience. And somehow, that only made the ache burning inside you even worse.
You clenched hard, every muscle straining to obey, while Michael looked up at you with quiet amusement. "That's it," he whispered. "Show me how good you can be."
This went on for another moment, until you couldn't take it anymore. Only one movement away from your release, your fingers tightened in his hair.
That was his signal to stop. "Not yet, sweetheart."
He pressed a few more soft kisses against your skin before lifting his head and turning toward you. Then he shifted, his crotch now close to your face.
"Come here," he murmured. "I want to show you what you do to me." Slowly, he unbuckled his belt and pushed his pants down. Even through the fabric of his underwear, the outline of his erection was impossible to miss.
Huge. Your breath caught. He hooked his fingers into the waistband and pulled it down, revealing his hard, throbbing dick springing free right in front of you.
"See that?" Your eyes lingered on him, filled with hunger. "That's all you, baby." His hand moved to your chin, tilting your face up slightly. "Open that mouth for me." The tip brushed softly against your lips. "C'mon," he said, his voice low and coaxing. "Taste it."
You obeyed immediately, parting your lips and taking him into your mouth. Slowly at first. His breathing hitched. "Look up at me." You lifted your eyes to his, and the moment your gaze locked with his, a dark smile spread across his face. "Good girl."
His hand moved to your hair, gently patting your head before threading his fingers through it. Encouraged by his praise, you pushed yourself further, taking him deeper and using your throat. A moan escaped him. "Fuck..."
His grip tightened slightly. "You’re doing so well, angel." His hand stayed resting on your head, guiding your movements as you bobbed slowly. Each time his tip brushed the back of your throat, his entire body reacted - the sharp intake of breath, the tension in his muscles, the way his eyes fluttered for a second. You loved watching him lose control. "That's it, my love," he breathed shakily. "Just a little more."
You took him deeper again, and this time his restraint slipped. His hand pressed more firmly against the back of your head, holding you there for a moment. A rough moan tore from his throat. "Such a good girl," he groaned, his voice uneven. "Taking me so well." Then, just as your lungs began to burn, he released his hold and let you pull back.
“Breathe,” he murmured, his thumb brushing gently across your cheek as he watched you catch your breath.
He tapped your cheek lightly with his palm, a smirk playing on his lips. "So slutty for me."
Then he positioned himself between your legs, his heavy length resting against your pussy. A shaky breath escaped your lips. "You want this?" he asked, his eyes locked onto yours.
"Yes," you breathed. "Please. I need it inside me." His own breath caught sharply at your words.
"What am I supposed to do with you?" he murmured, lightly dragging himself against you before giving a teasing slap against your pussy.
"I'll make you come around my cock until you can't take it anymore."
The promise was whispered right against your ear, his voice low and dangerous as he slowly teased your entrance with the tip.
And then, finally, he pushed inside.
His eyes never left your face as he eased himself in, watching every reaction.
A loud moan escaped you. "That's right, baby," he murmured. "Let it out. Let me hear you."
He kept going until he was fully seated inside you, filling you completely.
The stretch made your entire body tense.
He was so big, forcing you to adjust to every inch, leaving you breathless as he buried himself deep inside. Your hips shifted instinctively as you tried to get used to the feeling. "God, Michael-" you moaned.
He started to move slowly, drawing back before thrusting deep again.
Each movement sent a shiver through your body. He felt incredible inside you, every thrust finding exactly the right places, filling you in a way that made your mind go blank.
His breathing grew heavier above you.
"Fuck, baby," he groaned, his voice rough and uneven. "You're so tight."
He pulled back again, slower this time, making sure you felt every inch before pushing all the way in once more.
The motion made your body shake beneath him.
"Just remember this moment the next time you see him, alright?" he said, his voice low and firm, making sure you wouldn’t forget exactly who you belonged to.
"Michael…" you moaned, breathless. At the sound of his name, Michael slowed his movements, his dark eyes locking onto yours.
"Say that again." The demand in his voice sent a shiver through your entire body.
"M-Michael-"
The second his name fell from your lips, he snapped his hips forward harder, faster, forcing a broken cry from your throat.
Your moans spilled uncontrollably into the air. Michael leaned down and kissed you. It was messy and desperate, your lips crashing together as both of your moans melted into the kiss. His mouth swallowed every sound you made, his breathing rough against your skin. Then he pulled back just enough for his lips to brush your ear.
"Say it again," he whispered, his voice possessive and dark. "Whose woman are you? Who do you belong to?" His thrusts stayed relentless, each one driving the words deeper into you.
"I belong to you, Michael," you gasped. He groaned softly, his grip tightening against your hips. "Michael who?" he demanded, his voice rougher now. "Jackson," you moaned, barely able to form the words through your shaking breaths. "Michael Jackson."
A satisfied sound escaped him. "That's right." He kissed the side of your neck, his lips lingering there before he spoke again. "You're mine. Every single bit of you." His voice dropped lower, sending heat through your entire body. "Don't ever forget that." The intensity of his words, combined with the way he moved inside you, sent another wave of pleasure crashing through you.
Your body tightened helplessly around him. You were dangerously close again.
"Michael," you whimpered, your voice trembling. "I’m gonna come if you don’t stop-" He cut you off immediately.
"That’s okay, honey." One of his hands slid down to press firmly against your lower stomach, intensifying every thrust. "You can come on my cock." His lips brushed your forehead, impossibly tender compared to the rough pace he was setting.
"Come for me, pretty girl." That was all it took. Your body gave in completely. The orgasm tore through you all at once, powerful and overwhelming, making your back arch as your walls clenched and pulsed around him. A broken cry escaped your lips as wave after wave rushed through your body.
Michael groaned deeply at the feeling, his head dropping to your shoulder. "Fuck…" His hand stayed on your stomach, rubbing slow circles as your body shook beneath him, only intensifying the pleasure.
He could feel every pulse around him, every involuntary tremor, the way your body gripped him so tightly it made his own breathing turn ragged.
"That’s it, baby," he groaned against your skin. "You’re coming so well on my cock."
And before your body had the chance to recover, before the trembling had even fully stopped, he started moving again. Slow at first. Making sure you felt every inch. As if he fully intended to make you fall apart all over again.
This time, he lowered his face to your neck, kissing it again as he continued thrusting into you.
"Michael, wait, I-" you gasped, every sensation hitting you intensely, your body still oversensitive from your last orgasm.
"Shh," he murmured against your skin.
"Just take it for me, okay?"
His lips moved slowly along your neck, leaving more marks behind. Each kiss only intensified the pleasure. And his pace never slowed.
Your nails dug into his back as he drove into you, hard and relentless, his mouth still working against your skin.
The overwhelming intensity built quickly. Too quickly. You could feel yourself getting close again.
Before you could even warn him, your body gave out. Pleasure crashed through you all at once. Another orgasm tore through you, stealing the breath from your lungs and leaving your mind completely blank.
You were left dazed beneath him, trembling from the aftershocks. A light tap against your cheek pulled you back. Your eyes fluttered open to find Michael watching you.
"You okay, angel?" he asked softly, his hand brushing over your lower stomach.
"Yes," you managed to breathe out. "I'm okay-"
A light slap landed right above your pussy, making you jolt.
"So dirty," he murmured, his voice low and amused. "Coming so much from my cock."
Then his hand moved to your hair, brushing it gently back from your face. He leaned down to kiss you. The kiss was softer this time, almost reassuring. When he pulled back, his forehead rested briefly against yours.
"You can hold out more for me, right, baby?" His voice was quiet, coaxing. And as he spoke, his hips began to move again, slowly. Making sure you felt every inch.
Both your breath and moans were shaky now. Each thrust sending you into a different dimension as he speeds up a bit. Your legs now both trembling from the intense pleasure.
"How does my cock make you feel, hm? Tell me." His voice was low and teasing as every thrust hit exactly where it made your body tremble.
"I-it feels so good," you moaned breathlessly.
A slow smile spread across Michael’s face. He bit lightly at his lower lip, his head tilting as he looked down at you with dark, hungry eyes.
"You’re so dirty right now," he murmured. "Drooling everywhere, can't even talk properly."
His thumb brushed softly across your cheek. "Just a whining mess for me."
Then he kissed you. Hard. His thrusts grew deeper, harder, making your body jolt beneath him.
The overwhelming pleasure brought tears to your eyes. Michael noticed immediately. "Shh, angel, it's okay."
He broke the kiss just long enough to press a soft kiss to your forehead.
"I know," he murmured gently. "I know, baby."
His hand brushed through your cheeky, wiping your tears, his touch impossibly tender compared to the relentless pace of his hips.
"You're taking it so well for me." Another orgasm was building fast, tightening through your body. Michael noticed the way your breathing hitched, the way your body clenched around him.
"Just hold on a little longer, my love."
His own release was approaching too.
You could feel it in the way his thrusts became needier, less controlled, his grip tightening against your skin.
"C'mon," he breathed, his voice rough now. "Come for me again."
That was all it took. Pleasure crashed through you all at once. Your body arched beneath him as another powerful wave overtook you, stealing every coherent thought from your mind.
And almost instantly, Michael followed.
A deep groan escaped him as the tension finally snapped.
For a moment, neither of you moved.
The pleasure was euphoric. It left you both breathless, trembling, completely undone. Michael stayed close, his forehead resting against yours as he struggled to steady his breathing.
His hand slid gently through your hair again, his touch soft now.
"That's it," he murmured quietly, pressing one last lingering kiss to your lips.
"Good girl."
He stayed there for a moment longer, holding you close as the last aftershocks slowly faded.
content: MDNI, smut, dom michael, lots and lots of teasing (in public as well), mj taking his frustration out on you in bed, sexual frustration, holding back
summary: you and mj are in a relationship together. although mj always seemed to be more on the shy side, behind closed doors when its just you and him, he turns into a different person. always teasing you, whether that be just playfully innocent or sexual teasing. one day, you have had enough and decide to take revenge on him for all the teasing.
PART 5
After a few more minutes, Michael finally looked away and forced his attention back to the table. You smiled to yourself. Then an idea struck.
You pushed your chair back and stood. “The waiter still hasn’t brought that spoon,” you said casually. “Maybe he forgot. I’ll go ask.” Then you tilted your head and gave Michael a sweet smile.
“Come with me, Michael.”
He slowly looked up at you from his seat. The expression in his eyes said everything. He knew exactly what you were doing. There was no chance he was getting up right now, not with the huge hard-on you just knowingly gave him.
His jaw tightened. You noticed the way his tongue pressed briefly against the inside of his cheek, the small bite he took of his lower lip as he fought to maintain control. He was irritated. Trying very hard not to show it.
“Sorry, sweetheart,” he said smoothly, his voice perfectly calm. “I think I’ll stay here. My knee’s been bothering me tonight.” The excuse came too quickly. You almost laughed.
“Oh, come on,” you said, pouting playfully. “It’s only a few steps. Don’t make me go all alone.”
Michael exhaled slowly through his nose. Even his smile looked strained now. “I wouldn’t want to push it,” he replied, his voice carrying just enough emphasis to make the hidden meaning unmistakable.
His eyes locked onto yours. Warning you to not take this any further. But you only smiled wider. “Okay, honey,” you said lightly. “I’ll be right back.”
You turned and walked off toward the servers. And even from several feet away, you could feel Michael watching you. That alone made your pulse quicken. The servers were close enough that he could see everything clearly, but too far to hear a word. So naturally, you decided to make the most of it.
You exchanged a few harmless words with one of them while waiting for the spoon. Nothing remotely flirtatious. Just polite small talk. But from Michael’s perspective, it looked different.
You laughed - perhaps a little louder than necessary. Smiled a little brighter. Tilted your head just enough to make the exchange seem far more engaging than it actually was. When you finally turned back toward the table, Michael’s eyes were still fixed on you. Watching.
You returned to your seat, setting the spoon down with a pleased little smile.
The second you settled beside him, his voice came low and sharp. “What was that?” The irritation in his tone caught you off guard. For the first time all evening, the mask slipped. His patience was wearing dangerously thin. You blinked innocently. “What do you mean? I was getting the spoon.”
“No.” His gaze stayed fixed ahead, though every line of his body was tense. “Why were you laughing so much?” You let out a soft laugh. “Oh, so now I’m not allowed to laugh?” He didn’t smile.
Didn’t even look at you.
“Don’t you think you seemed a little too entertained for someone asking for utensils?” The seriousness in his voice made your amusement falter. You turned toward him, searching his face.
"Oh, Michael,” you said, unable to help laughing again. “Don’t tell me you were jealous.” To be honest, it was rare to see him really jealous and when he was, he usually kept it to himself. So you were enjoying this.
Still nothing.
“I mean, seriously,” you added with a grin, “a waiter?”
That was when he finally spoke.
Without looking at you, his voice dropped into a tone so low and controlled it made your stomach tighten instantly. “Whatever.”
A pause.
“Just wait until we get home.”
The words hit you like ice and fire all at once. Your smile vanished. A sharp wave of heat rolled through your body, followed almost immediately by nerves. Your heart began hammering. Until that moment, this had all been fun. Playful. A harmless little revenge game. You’d been so caught up in finally getting the upper hand that you hadn’t stopped to think about what would happen after.
But now, as you sat beside him and felt the quiet tension radiating from his perfectly still body, reality settled over you. Eventually, the two of you would be alone. No cameras. No crowded room. No audience to keep him restrained.
And judging by the dangerous calm in his voice…you had just realized exactly how much trouble you were in.
Michael reached for the dark tinted glasses resting beside his plate and slid them on. The gesture was subtle, but you knew exactly why. He could feel his composure slipping, and the glasses gave him one final layer to hide behind.
Then, beneath the table, his hand found yours. His fingers wrapped around it possessively, squeezing hard enough to make your breath catch. “Now you behave.” The words were barely more than a whisper, hidden behind the wine glass he casually lifted to his lips. To anyone watching, he looked perfectly composed. Only you knew better.
For the rest of dinner, you stayed unusually still. Not because you wanted to. Because your mind had already begun racing through every possible version of what would happen once the two of you were finally alone.
And suddenly, the confidence that had carried you through the evening was beginning to crack. Your calmness allowed Michael to steady himself. Little by little, the tension in his posture eased just enough for him to regain control. By the time dinner ended and the guests began rising from the table, his composure had returned. At least on the surface.
The event paused for a one-hour intermission. The second the room began to stir, Michael shoved his chair back and stood up. His head turned toward you. The look in his eyes told you everything. His patience had finally run out.
"Get up." he said quietly, giving you no room to refuse. A flicker of nerves shot through you. You weren’t entirely sure what he was about to do. And despite the nerves twisting in your stomach, the hard edge and dominance in his voice sent heat rushing through you.
You got up and he took your hand fast, with impatience. His grip was firm. He started walking fast. You did your best to keep up with pace. He didn’t look back to see if you were following. He simply guided you through the venue with quiet urgency. Your pulse quickened with every step.
Eventually, he pushed open the heavy door leading to an emergency staircase - the only place empty enough to guarantee privacy.
Michael removed his glasses slowly, folding them with careful precision before slipping them into his jacket pocket. Only then did he look at you. And the expression in his eyes made your stomach drop.
“What", he asked quietly, "was that." His voice was low, edged with frustration. His dark gaze on you the whole time.
You swallowed. “What do you mean?” He stepped closer. “No, don’t do that.” His voice sharpened. “Don’t play innocent with me right now, sweetheart.” Within seconds, he had you backed gently against the wall, close enough that your breath caught.
“You knew.” The two quiet words landed harder than if he'd raised his voice. You forced yourself yourself to hold his gaze, unwilling to let him see your confidence falter. But that didn't last long. There was something in the way he looked at you, almost intimidating you. Your eyes dropped.
“I wasn’t doing anything.” The sudden quietness in your voice betrayed you. Michael gave a disbelieving exhale.
“Oh, really?” He leaned closer, his voice dropping lower. “So the way you kept looking at me all night... that was nothing?” His hand braced against the wall beside your head. “The touching?” Closer still. “The teasing?”
Your heart hammered. “You have any idea how hard it was for me to sit there and act like none of it was affecting me?” His voice was barely above a whisper now, but every word carried weight.
“That was the worst possible place you could’ve chosen to test me.” His face was inches from yours. “And if you keep pushing me like that tonight…” The darkness in his expression deepened. “I won’t be nearly as patient when we get home.”
A shiver ran through you. You couldn’t answer. Could barely breathe. The confidence that had fueled your teasing was melting under the intensity of his gaze.
Michael tilted his head slightly, studying your silence. “Now,” he murmured, “you’re going to behave like a good girl for the rest of the night. Understood?” And then he leaned in to kiss you.
You hesitated. Giving in would mean surrendering. It would mean admitting what he already knew - that no matter how much you teased, no matter how confidently you played this game, your body still betrayed you whenever he was close.
And your pride refused to let him have that victory so easily. So at the last second, you turned your head.
The kiss missed. His lips brushed your cheek instead.
Absolute silence filled the stairwell. For a beat, Michael went still. Then he looked away, his tongue pressing sharply against the inside of his cheek as a low, disbelieving laugh escaped him. He gave a small nod to himself. So that was how you wanted to play this.
Then slowly pulled back. The look that crossed his face was almost disbelief. Followed by something darker. A slow, dangerous smile tugged at his lips as he exhaled sharply through his nose.
You had surprised him again. His eyes locked onto yours, giving you one final chance to reconsider. A final warning. A final chance.
You didn’t move. Didn’t look away. That was all the answer he needed.
"Alright, then." His hand rose to your neck, firm but careful, while the other gently steadied your jaw. Keeping you still.
And then he kissed you. Hard. Deep. There was nothing gentle about it. It was the kind of kiss that felt like hours of restraint finally snapping all at once. Every ounce of frustration he'd been forcing down through dinner bled into the pressure of his mouth against yours - hungry, demanding, possessive enough to steal the breath from your lungs.
His big hand tightened on your neck, holding you exactly where he wanted you as he deepened the kiss, giving you no room to pull away.
The intensity of it made your head spin. It wasn't just the heat of his mouth or the way he kissed you like he'd been denied for far too long. It was the certainty in it. The unspoken message behind every second of it. You had pushed him too far. And now he was making sure you felt exactly what he meant.
Your hands pressed instinctively against his chest, trying to steady yourself as the force of it pinned you in place. You tried to gasp his name against his mouth, but each broken attempt only made him kiss you deeper, as though he had no intention in letting you speak.
For the first time all evening, the balance shifted back in his favor. And he was clearly enjoying it.
When he finally pulled away, both of you were left breathless.
Michael pressed his forehead against yours, both of you breathing hard. When he pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, the look in his eyes was pure warning.
“Go on,” he murmured, his voice rough and low. “Try that again.”
content: MDNI, smut, dom michael, lots and lots of teasing (in public as well), mj taking his frustration out on you in bed, sexual frustration, holding back
summary: you and mj are in a relationship together. although mj always seemed to be more on the shy side, behind closed doors when its just you and him, he turns into a different person. always teasing you, whether that be just playfully innocent or sexual teasing. one day, you have had enough and decide to take revenge on him for all the teasing.
its getting hot in here yalllll
PART 4
You were starting to love the power you had over him. You watch his reactions closely, they entertain you so much and Michael can tell with the smirk you keep trying to hide.
Every chance you got, you found subtle ways to touch him while making it seem perfectly natural. You'd lean across him to reach for something on the table, making sure your body brushed against his just enough for him to feel it. Your perfume would linger around him for several long seconds, sweet and distracting. Sometimes your fingers would trail lightly over his arm as if absentmindedly. Other times, your knee would brush against his beneath the table and stay there. Just enough touching and teasing to keep his hard-on going.
Each tiny touch was deliberate. Calculated. And Michael knew it.
Normally, if you teased him like this, he'd retaliate immediately - usually in ways that left you breathless and begging for mercy within minutes.
But here? Here, he couldn't do anything.
He was trapped by the setting, forced to sit there and endure every teasing little touch while keeping up the appearance of perfect composure. Completely powerless to your constant seductive attacks.
And you could see it was driving him insane. The amused smile you kept trying to suppress only made it worse. Michael noticed every glance, every lingering touch, every playful spark in your eyes. The risk of it all only sharpened the tension. It was reckless, dangerously tempting.
And the fact that he couldn't act on any of it was clearly eating away at what little patience he had left. You could feel the frustration radiating off him now. A quiet, simmering tension. The kind that told you Michael was already imagining exactly how he planned to make you pay for this later.
After a while, the servers began bringing out dessert. The moment you spotted the slice of cake covered in white cream being set in front of you, an idea immediately formed. And judging by the subtle annoyance on Michael's face when he noticed what you'd ordered, he knew he was in trouble. Everyone around the table began eating, the conversation shifting into lighter chatter.
Beside you, Michael made a very deliberate effort not to look your way. He kept his attention fixed elsewhere, clearly trying to avoid giving you any more opportunities.
That alone made you smile.
"This cake is so good, Mike," you said brightly, your voice just loud enough for the others nearby to hear. "You have to try some." A few heads turned toward him expectantly. Now he had no choice. Refusing would draw attention, and Michael was far too gracious to do that.
Slowly, he turned to face you. That same carefully composed smile settled onto his face - the one he'd been wearing all evening whenever he was trying not to reveal what was really going through his mind.
His eyes and attention on you again. Exactly what you'd hoped for.
You held out the spoon toward him. And then, with perfect timing, let it slip from your fingers. "Oh!" The spoon clattered to the floor near his feet. Without hesitation, you bent beneath the table to retrieve it. For one suspended moment, you found yourself kneeling directly between his legs. You have the spoon in your hand now but you stay on your knees just a little longer. You can't help but notice his huge hard cock in his pants, probably throbbing with need. You knew you probably had to make him heat up and a bit aroused, but up until that you haven't realized he was this hard. It was huge, fully hard. You couldn't believe you had this kind of effect on him. I mean, Michael, the one who always seems to be in control, calm and patient, but in this moment he looked like the complete opposite. You look at his crotch with eyes full of lust and hunger, as if that was the real dessert. You look up at him, making sure he's watching you. And of course he is, although he's trying very hard not to. His expression went completely still when you glanced up. His breathing had visibly become heavier, all caused by your face being so close to his erection and those dirty hungry looks you keep giving him. You look at his throbbing crotch again, god it looks so delicious. Suddenly, you put your hand on it and squeeze it ever so lightly. That makes Michael shift in his seat a bit. He wasn't expecting that, at all. This was dangerous. He pulls himself together fast, because he has to, or someone will surely notice. He tries looking away, really hoping it'd help in a way. But you were way too distracting. You slide your hand very slowly, from his crotch all the way to his knee. You lean against his knee, using it to help you get up now.
"Oh, I'm so clumsy," you laughed softly as you returned to your seat with the dirty spoon.
Michael drew in a slow, measured breath. You could practically feel him forcing himself to remain calm, avoiding looking at you since your seductive looks don't help at all. He still had that dark gaze in his eyes, like he's counting every single second for until he can finally get his hands on you. It was getting more and more difficult to control himself.
He immediately signaled for another spoon. But before the waiter could return, you dipped your fingertip into the cream and turned toward him with an innocent smile. "Come on," you said lightly. "This is too good to wait." To anyone watching, it looked sweet. Playful. A simple romantic moment between the two of you. But when your eyes met Michael's, the meaning underneath was unmistakable.
His smile remained perfectly polite. His gaze at you, however, was dark enough to send a thrill straight through you. He looked annoyed that he has to follow through with your cruel little games, just to make sure that nobody catches on what's actually going on.
After a long pause, he leaned forward and accepted the bite from your finger. "Yeah," he said softly, his voice calm despite the tension written all over him. "It's really good." The celebrities around the table smiled at the exchange, some letting out amused little laughs.
The attention lingered only for a moment before the conversation resumed. And the second it did, you dipped your finger into the cream again.
This time, you held Michael's gaze as you slowly brought it to your own lips. Then, without breaking eye contact, you seductively licked it all of. You licked the same finger he just had in his mouth a moment ago.
Michael let out the faintest chuckle. But there was no real amusement in it. He found it ridiculous in a frustrated way, how you don't seem to know when to stop. His jaw tightened sharply. You know he wanted you. He wanted you bad. He desperately wanted to have his way with you, show you just how much you're driving him crazy right now. You could tell he was irritated by it all, having to stay patient despite being so painfully hard for you. You laugh softly, finding it entertaining. He notices and looks at you.
The look he gave you just now could have pinned you to your seat.
A warning. As if he was saying "You find it funny now but just you wait."
And somehow, seeing just how helpless he was to stop any of it only made the thrill coursing through you even stronger.
content: MDNI, smut, dom michael, lots and lots of teasing (in public as well), mj taking his frustration out on you in bed, sexual frustration, holding back
summary: you and mj are in a relationship together. although mj always seemed to be more on the shy side, behind closed doors when its just you and him, he turns into a different person. always teasing you, whether that be just playfully innocent or sexual teasing. one day, you have had enough and decide to take revenge on him for all the teasing.
PART 3
Before either of you could say another word, a small group of familiar faces approached the table. “Michael! It’s been forever!” A few celebrities greeted him warmly, laughing as they pulled more chairs around the large round table and invited the two of you to join them.
Michael’s expression shifted instantly back into effortless public charm. You almost had to admire it.
One second he’d been dark-eyed and tense beneath your teasing, and the next he was all polished smiles and graceful ease as he greeted everyone. The two of you took your seats, you settling directly beside him.
“Long time no see,” one of them said with a laugh. “You’re impossible to catch these days. Always working.” Michael smiled softly, offering one of his polite, warm responses as the conversation around the table quickly took off.
Beneath the table, your fingers found his hand. You laced your fingers through his and absentmindedly traced your thumb across his knuckles, your touch slow and soothing enough to seem innocent. For a while, you simply sat there, listening to the conversation, waiting. Watching. Michael gradually relaxed beside you, his attention shifting fully toward the people around the table.
That was your opening.
Keeping your face perfectly composed, you gently guided his hand toward your thigh. At first, he allowed it without question, likely assuming you simply wanted the comfort of his touch. Then, inch by inch, you guided his palm higher. And higher. Until his hand rested against the sensitive inside of your thigh.
Michael froze. His sentence faltered for the briefest moment before he recovered smoothly enough that no one else seemed to notice. But you noticed. Oh, you definitely noticed.
You turned your head slightly to look at him. There it was again. That expression. The one that clearly asked, What exactly do you think you’re doing? Only this time, the playful confusion was gone. There was something sharper in his gaze now. A warning.
A waiter suddenly brushed past the table and accidentally knocked over a glass of water. The liquid spread quickly across the white tablecloth. “Oh no,” the waiter muttered, scrambling for napkins. “That’s really wet.” The moment was too perfect to ignore. Without breaking eye contact with Michael, you tilted your head innocently and said softly,
“Yeah… that’s really wet.” Your voice was calm. Sweet. But your eyes gave you away completely. He saw the challenge there. The deliberate provocation. And the hand you still held firmly against your inner thigh. Michael’s entire body went rigid.
For one suspended second, he simply stared at you. Then his fingers tightened sharply against your thigh, the sudden pressure making your breath hitch. Not enough to hurt. Just enough to communicate his frustration. His jaw flexed. A muscle ticked there as he slowly pulled his hand back into his lap, breaking your hold. Then he looked away, forcing his attention back to the conversation around the table as though nothing had happened.
But you could see the effort it took. The careful regulation of his breathing. The stiffness now settled through his shoulders. The way his fingers curled tightly against his knee beneath the table. He was trying so hard to act normal. And somehow, that made this even more satisfying.
Then, without looking at you, he leaned ever so slightly closer. His voice was so low only you could hear it. “You are testing every ounce of my patience tonight.” The controlled calm in his tone should have frightened you. Instead, it sent a thrill racing straight through you. Because beneath that carefully measured voice, you could hear it. He was unraveling. Exactly the way you always did for him.
But you weren’t finished. Not even close. If anything, his warning only made you want to push further. You kept your expression calm, composed, even joining the conversation every now and then with a polite smile as though nothing was happening beneath the table.
Then, slowly, you rested your hand on Michael’s thigh. At first, your touch was light, absentminded. Almost innocent. Your fingers traced slow patterns against the fabric of his slacks while you nodded along to the discussion happening around the table. Then, inch by inch, your hand began to move higher.
You barely made it a few inches before his hand immediately covered yours, stopping you. The gesture was subtle enough that no one else would notice. A silent command. Don’t.
For a moment, his fingers pressed firmly over your hand, warning enough on their own. But you simply smiled to yourself and ignored him. Deliberately, you slipped your hand free and continued higher anyway, your fingertips brushing the sensitive inside of his thigh.
Michael went perfectly still. The tension radiating from him was immediate. Across the table, someone suddenly addressed him. “Michael, is your house really as huge as the press says? That place sounds unbelievable.” You almost laughed at the timing. Michael blinked, clearly forcing himself to focus. “O-oh… Neverland?” he repeated, his voice catching ever so slightly before he steadied it. “Yeah… it’s very large.” The answer was unusually simple for him. Too simple. He was distracted. And you knew exactly why.
A smile tugged at your lips. “Yeah,” you added sweetly, your fingers gliding just a little closer, “it really is big.” The double meaning hung there between the two of you. Your hand shifted again, the faint friction of your touch enough to make his breath hitch almost imperceptibly.
When you glanced at him, he was already looking at you. He smiled. A soft, casual smile for anyone watching. But his eyes told a completely different story. The amusement was gone now. What remained was pure restraint stretched dangerously thin. There was frustration there. Heat. And beneath it, a very clear warning.
Still, you leaned closer. Close enough for your lips to brush near his ear as you whispered, “You’re doing so well pretending this isn’t bothering you.” His smile never faltered. Not outwardly. But you saw the way his jaw tightened. The way his fingers curled sharply against his knee. He was holding himself together by sheer force of will.
For several long seconds, he said nothing. Then, once the conversation shifted and no one’s attention was on him, his hand shot out beneath the table and closed firmly around your wrist. The grip was strong, controlled. Not enough to hurt, just enough to make your breath catch. Without looking at you directly, he guided your hand away from his thigh and set it firmly back in your lap. The movement was rougher than anything he’d done all evening. A release of carefully contained frustration.
His posture remained perfectly composed, his head facing forward as though he were still listening attentively to the conversation. But then his eyes slid toward you. The look he gave you was sharp enough to freeze your breath. Cold, commanding. A silent order to stop, to behave. And somehow, that look, that rare flash of steel beneath all his usual gentleness, sent a thrill straight through you. Because for the first time all night, Michael wasn’t asking. He was warning you. And judging by the darkness now simmering behind his gaze...you had finally pushed him to his limit.
content: MDNI, smut, dom michael, lots and lots of teasing (in public as well), mj taking his frustration out on you in bed, sexual frustration, holding back
summary: you and mj are in a relationship together. although mj always seemed to be more on the shy side, behind closed doors when its just you and him, he turns into a different person. always teasing you, whether that be just playfully innocent or sexual teasing. one day, you have had enough and decide to take revenge on him for all the teasing.
ps: it'll only keep getting spicier which each part. :p
PART 2
As the two of you stepped into the venue, your mind was already racing with possibilities. You glanced up at Michael, his attention momentarily elsewhere as he exchanged polite smiles with guests, and a playful thought crossed your mind. If he thought he was the only one who knew how to tease...he was about to be proven very wrong. A small smile tugged at your lips. Soon, the two of you were making your way through the room, stopping every few steps to greet familiar faces. Michael slipped effortlessly into converstation with a small group of high-profile celebrities, his charm natural as breathing. The entire time, your fingers remained laced with his.
And then, quietly, carefully, you made your first move. Keeping your expression perfectly innocent, you stepped slightly in front of him and guided your joined hands behind your back. Slowly, deliberately, you shifted his hand lower. Just enough for him palm to brush against the curve of your body. Then you moved again. A subtle sway of your hips, just enough to press yourself lightly into his touch. Michael faltered midsentence. Only for half a second. But you noticed. His voice hitched ever so slightly before he recovered, continuing the conversation as if nothing had happened. You turned your head just enough to glance at him. He was already looking at you. Amusement flickering across his features. The tiny smile tugging at his lips practically screamed, What exactly do you think you're doing?
You had to fight back a grin. That was the beauty of it. He couldn't react. Not here. Not surrounded by cameras and important guests. And yet the faint tension now visible in his shoulders told you he had definitely felt what you'd done. A thrill shot through you. For the first time, you felt it - that intoxicating little rush of power. You had distracted him. You. Michael Jackson, the man who always held perfect control, was struggling to focus because of you. And judging by the way his thumb suddenly pressed firmly against your hand, he knew exactly what game you were playing. That only made it more fun.
By the time dinner began and everyone settled into their seats, your confidence had grown. Michael pulled out your chair before taking the seat beside you. The moment he sat down, he turned to you with a soft, curious smile. "What's gotten into you tonight, sweetheart?" His tone was gentle, but there was suspicion beneath it. He'd noticed. Good. You leaned closer, close enough for your lips to brush the shell of his ear as you whispered. "I need you so bad, Michael." The words were soft. Breathy. Intimate. You felt him go still. His breath caught almost imperceptibly as your lips ghosted against his skin. Then you pressed the faintest kiss just beneath his ear. "I wish I could have you right now," you murmured. Your hand drifted slowly onto his thigh beneath his table. Higher. Slow enough to leave no doubt that every inch was intentional. "All of you."
When you finally leaned back, your eyes met his. And the look on his face nearly stole your breath. His gaze had darkened instantly. The softness usually lingering there had sharpened into something far more dangerous. He was staring at you as though trying to read every thought behind your sudden boldness, trying to understand why you'd chosen now - here, off all places - to push him like this. There was hunger in his expression. Undeniable hunger. But beneath it was restraint. Cold, deliberate restraint. His jaw tightened.
Then, after what felt like forever, he leaned in close enough for only you to hear. His voice was low. Dangerously calm. "Be very careful, sweetheart." His hand slid onto your knee beneath the table, squeezing you just hard enough to makr your pulse jump. "You have no idea what you're starting." And the small smile that curled at his lips told you one thing with absolute certainty. He was affected. Exactly the way you wanted him to be.
"You know we can't do this here." Michael's voice was low and serious, barely above a whisper. The warning in his tone shoud have made you stop. Instead, it only made the smile tugging at your lips widen. You loved seeing him like this - composed on the surface, yet clearly affected undernearh. Tilting your head innocently, you leaned a bit closer. "Do what?" You reached up as though simply fixing his tie, you fingers smoothing slowly over the silk before lingering against his chest. His eyes locked onto yours instantly. "You know exactly what." The steadiness in his voice was impressive, but the tension in his jaw betrayed him. And that only encouraged you. Holding his gaze, you got even closer, close enough that your lips nearly brushed his ear when you spoke. "What?" you whispered softly. "You mean you can't fuck me here?" The challenge in your tone was unmistakable.
For the first time that evening, Michael visibly faltered. His breath caught. And then, just for a second, he broke eye contact. The reaction was subtle, but to you it was everything. You'd shocked him. The flush rising faintly across his cheeks made your pulse race with triumph. He drew in a slow breath, steadying himself. When he finally looked back at you, his expression had shifted. The warmth was still there. The hunger too. But now there was something beneath it. Control. Carefully measured, tightly held control. "Sweetheart," he murmured, his voice softer now, almost coaxing "can we save this for when we're alone?" His hand came to rest over yours, stilling your teasing fingers where they lingered against his chest. "We're going to be here for hours." The way he said it, calm, almost pleading with all the restraint, sent another thrill through you.
It was rare to see Michael unsettled like this. Rarer still to hear that faint strain beneath his voice, the quiet effort it was taking to keep himself composed. His thumbs brushed lightly across your knuckles. "Let's behave ourselves for now, hm?" The gentle compromise in his tone made it clear that he wasn't angry. If anything, he liked this side of you. He liked your boldness, your sudden confidence. The way you'd managed to catch him off guard.
But this setting - surrounded by cameras, celebrities, and too many watchful eyes - made your teasing almost unbearably difficult for him to endure. And you could tell. The slight darkness in his gaze. The careful way he was regulating his breathing. The tension in his shoulders. Michael was struggling. And the realization sent a dangerous rush of satisfaction through you. Because for once, he was the one trying not to come undone.
You gave him your sweetest smile. Then leaned in close enough for only him to hear. "Then I guess," you whispered, your lips brushing his ear for just a second, "you'll just have to be patient for me". You felt the exact moment his body went still. And then you pulled back, the look in his eyes told you one thing very clearly. You had just made this game far more dangerous than either of you expeced.
content: MDNI, smut, dom michael, lots and lots of teasing (in public as well), mj taking his frustration out on you in bed, sexual frustration, holding back
summary: you and mj are in a relationship together. although mj always seemed to be more on the shy side, behind closed doors when its just you and him, he turns into a different person. always teasing you, whether that be just playfully innocent or sexual teasing. one day, you have had enough and decide to take revenge on him for all the teasing.
ps: im very new on tumblr so idk how anything works yet, however id like some suggestions to help me improve my posts please and thank you!! i decided to publish this fanfic since i just cant gatekeep it, i just had this thought one day and now i cant stop thinking about it, hope u guys will like it as much as i do😭 also this is very much kind of like a slow burn heat moment so the more you progress with the story, the hotter it gets. sorry for so much text also but i cant help it💔
You and Michael Jackson have been together for a few months, and the public already knows about your relationship.
When he gets nominated for a major award, he invites you as his guest for the event. It’s a big night, one filled with pressure, cameras, and expectations.
Michael thinks it will just be another appearance, but he would've never guessed what awaits him there.
PART 1
GETTING READY FOR THE EVENT
It was already 4 p.m. when you arrived at Michael’s house.
You hadn’t seen him in over a month, his schedule had pulled him in every direction, and even though you two spoke almost every day through the phone, nothing compared to finally being in the same space again. The anticipation had been building for hours on the drive over.
The last time you were together still felt vivid in your mind. A quiet dinner at your favorite restaurant, playful teasing over small things, laughter that made time feel irrelevant. Later, back at his place, the world had narrowed down to just the two of you. Michael knew he wouldn't see you for some time after that, so he really made sure that night was unforgettable.
Now, standing at his doorstep again, your heart felt like it might outrun you.
When you stepped inside, you were immediately greeted by members of his staff. Warm smiles, polite urgency. You were guided through the house with gentle efficiency, told that Michael was still preparing and that the event was approaching quickly.
There wouldn’t be time to see him yet.
A small disappointment flickered through you, but it was quickly replaced by excitement as they led you to the room prepared for you.
Everything was already set: gowns carefully arranged, makeup kits open, hair tools ready. Professionals moved with practiced precision as they helped you prepare, each step slowly transforming you for the night ahead.
The dress shimmered as you put it on, catching the light in soft sparkles with every movement. Your hair was styled until it fell perfectly and your makeup was done with an expert hand, enhancing rather than changing you.
Two hours later, you’re both ready.
As you step outside, Michael is already waiting by the limousine, standing there like he’s been waiting for this exact moment. He opens the door for you himself, like a true gentleman.
His eyes land on you and a soft smile forms. “You look so beautiful,” he says. You step closer, finally seeing him again after so long. Your heart skips. He just looks incredible, dressed in a black tailored suit with subtle satin details that catch the light. His hair and makeup are perfectly done, completing the elegance of the look. As you get closer, his familiar cologne lingers in the air - deep, refined, almost mysterious. He always looked good to you, but tonight it's infinitely enhanced. Everything about this moment feels heightened, seeing after such a long time.
"Thank you, Michael. You look so handsome tonight." you said while greeting him with a hug and then getting in the car now. A moment later, he got in through the opposite door. The instant he settled beside you, the expensive leather seat dipped beneath his weight, shifting him closer. Closer than necessary. Then his hand came to rest on your thigh. Your breath caught. His hand was huge and his fingers were long and elegant, his skin impossibly soft, the faint blue veins visible beneath the surface. The simple touch sent your thoughts spiraling somewhere dangerous. You couldn't help remembering all the nights those same hands had explored every inch of you with impossible patience. Michael knew your body better than anyone. He knew exactly where to touch, how much pressure to use, how to make you unravel little by little until you were trembling beneath him, barely able to form words. But the worst part was, he loved taking his time, drawing it out and watching you come apart for him. He loved to tease you.
"I know I already said it," he murmured, his thumb tracing absent circles against your thigh, "but you really look so beautiful tonight my love. I was so excited to see you again, I could barely sleep last night."
. . . .
When no response came, he glanced down and caught you staring at his hand. A knowing smile tugged at his lips.
"Something wrong?" his fingers gave your thigh a light tap, making you jump. You blinked quickly, forcing yourself back to reality. "Oh no, nothing, sorry, I must've been daydreaming." you laugh softly, trying to hide your thoughts. The faint heat rising to your cheeks gave you away instantly. Michael noticed. Of course he did. "Daydreaming about what?" he asked softly. His voice dropped lower as he leaned in, tilting his head to catch your eyes. The movement brought him so close you could smell his cologne, warm and intoxicating. Your heart hammered. There was something about the way Michael looked at you, like he could peel back every layer, every thought, every secret, and somehow still look at you with nothing but affection.
His fingers drifted upward, lightly tilting your chin. Then he kissed you. It was soft, brief. Just enough to make your lips part instinctively when he pulled away. "I missed you so much, my sweet girl." he whispered, his other hand smoothing through your hair. "I missed you more." The words came out shakier than you intended. His forehead rested against yours, your lips barely touching as your breaths mingled. "You want to kiss me?" he asked, smiling. You nodded. A quiet laugh escaped him. "No," he murmured, his lips ghosting you just enough to drive you mad. "Use your words." Your stomach flipped. "I want to kiss you." The smile on his face deepened. "How badly?" Your breath hitched. "Really badly." His eyes darkened. Still, he didn't close the distance. Instead, his thumb brushed over your lower lip before he pulled back just enough to deny you again. "Mmm," he hummed. "But wanting isn't the same as needing." The ache of anticipation bloomed low in your chest. "No," you whispered, leaning forward despite yourself. "I need it." Something shifted in his expression. The playful teasing in his eyes deepened into something hotter, something that made your pulse race. For a moment, he just looked at you. Then, with the smallest smirk, he leaned to your ear. "Good." And just when you thought he was finally going to kiss you, he moved away completely. He sat back in his seat like nothing had happened, smoothing his jacket calmly while leaving you breathless and flustered. "You'll have to wait," he said lightly. "We're almost there." You stared at him in disbelief. He glanced over, clearly amused by your frustration. The smug little smile on his face made heat rush through you. Oh. So that was how tonight was gonna be. Fine. If Michael wanted to tease you and leave you aching for more...then by the end of the evening he'd be the desperate one. And as the car pulled up to the venue, your revenge was already forming in your mind.
AT THE EVENT
Before you could answer, the car came to a smooth stop. "We've arrived." the driver announced. Michael let out a quiet chuckle, the corners of his lips lifting as he broke your gaze. Without another word, he stepped out of the car first. Almost instantly, the sound of cameras clicking filled the air outside. A second later, he appeared at your door and opened it for you, holding out his hand. You place your hand in his, letting him help you out. The moment your heels touched the pavement, the noise hit you all at once - the paparazzi shouting from every direction, flashes exploding like lightning, voices calling both your names. You slipped your hand around Michael's arm as the two of you made your way down the red carpet. Together, you paused for photos, smiling effortlessly as camera flashes illuminated your faces. Michael looked completely at ease, his polished smile fixed perfectly in place as he guided you along. Then his arm wrapped around your waist. His hand settled on your hip, fingers tightening just enough to send heat straight through your body as he pulled you subtly closer to him. Your breath caught. He leaned in, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. "You're really so easy to tease, y/n." The amusement in his voice made your stomach flip. He was right. The warmth pooling low in your body was entirely his fault.
Michael always did this to you. He loved teasing you almost as much as he loved finally giving in. Maybe even more. He was patient. Deliberate. He loved drawing things out until your thoughts blurred and all you could focus on was him - the way he touched you, the way he watched, the way he watched you unravel, the way he made you beg before finally giving you what you wanted. He liked seeing the desperation in your eyes. He liked knowing just how badly you craved him. And once he was certain you couldn't take anymore, only then would he decide to touch you the way you needed.
It was completely unfair how easily your body responded to him. One look, one brush of his fingers, one low whisper against your skin, and suddenly your thoughts scattered. Your mind flashed back to the night you were together before he got so busy - to the way his long fingers had toyed with you endlessly, never quite giving you enough. He'd kept you suspended there for what felt like forever, smiling softly every time you pleaded for more. By the end of it, tears had burned at the corners of your eyes from sheer frustration. And he'd loved every second of it.
The memory made heat rush to your cheeks. But beneath the embarrassment, something else stirred. Something sharper. Competitive. As the two of you continued down the carpet, his hand still firm against your waist, a thought suddenly crossed your mind. Why was it always you? Why were you always the one left breathless and desperate while he stayed perfectly composed? Yes, you loved falling apart for him. You loved the way he reduces you to trembling need with just a touch. But sometimes his cruelty, that sweet patient cruelty, made your pride sting. Especially because to everyone else, you were composed. Confident, direct. A woman who always knew exactly what she wanted. And yet with Michael, behind closed doors, all it took was one teasing smile and you became a flustered mess who could barely think straight. The vulneralbility of it made your pulse quicken. Then the idea came to you. For once, you didn't have to be the only one left aching. If Michael wanted to spend the night teasing you...then tonight, at this event, you were going to make sure he knew exactly what it feels like. And judging by the calm, smug expression on his face as he waved to the cameras, he had no idea what was coming.
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