I'm back! With another idea! I'm a huge fan of men with big noses, and Michael's big nose makes me imagine some very, very perverted things, like riding his face and using his nose to stimulate the reader's clitoris. It would be so exciting to see him covered in the reader's squirt all over his pretty face.
Daydreamin’ Bout How I Rock It
Content: your husband can’t keep his hands off of you, regardless of what you do, what you wear, what you say… he needs that. based on this request (request are open!!)
Warnings: 18+ minors dni, face sitting, cunnilingus, squirting, sub!michael jackson, dirty talk(reader calls him a slut once), begging.
Wc: 756
The sun is beating down on Hayvenhurst, the air thick with the scent of chlorine and blooming jasmine. With the rest of the family gone for the day, a heavy, expectant silence has settled over the estate, broken only by the rhythmic splashing of the turquoise pool.
You glide through the water, the bright yellow fabric of your bikini clinging to your curves like a second skin. Every time you kick, the thin straps of your bottoms dig slightly into your hips, accentuating the swell of your ass and the softness of your thighs. You can feel his eyes on you, not just glancing, but staring with a hunger that feels almost physical.
Michael is lounging on a poolside chaise, his skin glistening with oil and sweat. He isn't even pretending to read his book anymore. His gaze is locked onto you, tracking every ripple of your muscles under the water. When you finally swim toward the edge and hoist yourself up, the water cascading down your skin in shimmering sheets, you catch him swallowing hard. His breath is shallow, his dark eyes dilated, desperate.
"You look... so divine mama," he whispers, his voice raspy and strained.
As you stand there, dripping and exposed, Michael slides off the lounger and sinks to his knees on the warm concrete. The sight of him, usually so poised, now trembling and kneeling before you was a instant turn on. He reaches out, his fingers grazing your damp thigh, trailing upward toward the edge of your yellow bikini.
"Please," he whimpers, his voice breaking. "I've been watching you swim... I can't take it anymore. I need you. I need to feel you."
He looks up at you with pleading eyes, his pride completely gone, replaced by a starving lust. He doesn't just ask; he begs. He leans forward, pressing his forehead against your hip.
"Please, baby... just… sit on my face. I want to taste you. I want to feel your weight on me. Please, just ride my tongue, let me breathe you in."
The desperation in his voice is intoxicating. You let out a low, sultry laugh, stepping closer until your now bare wet pussy is hovering just inches from his lips. You lean down, whispering filth into his ear, telling him exactly how much of a pathetic, needy little slut he’s being for you.
"You want this so bad, don't you, baby? You wanna be my little chair so I can use your face?"
He lets out a muffled moan of affirmation, his hands gripping your ass, pulling you down. You slowly lower yourself, the warm, wet heat of your folds meeting his nose and lips. You settle your full weight onto him, sealing his mouth shut with your pussy.
The sensation is mind numbing. Michael groans against you, his tongue immediately going to work, swirling and flicking against your clit with a frantic, expert precision. You arch your back, your fingers digging into his shoulders as you begin to grind. You ride his nose, pushing down hard, forcing him to take every inch of your wetness.
"Yes... just like that," you moan, your voice dripping with arousal. "Taste me, pretty baby. Suck every drop out of me. You're nothing but a toy for me hmm?"
The dirty talk fuels the fire. As he continues to lap at you, his tongue darting deep inside your opening and then snapping back to your clit, the tension in your lower belly coils tighter and tighter. You can feel the orgasm building, a tidal wave of heat that threatens to shatter you.
" M’ gonna ruin this pretty little face," you gasp, your hips beginning to shudder. " gonna soak you... imma cover you in it!"
As your climax hits, it isn't a ripple, but a flood. Your muscles contract violently, and with a loud, guttural cry, you cum. A powerful, hot spray of fluid erupts from you, splashing directly across Michael’s cheeks, his nose, and his closed eyelids.
He doesn't flinch; he drinks it in, continuing to suckle your clit even as he is drenched in your release. You ride the waves of the orgasm, grinding your pussy into his face, making sure he feels every last tremor.
When you finally slide off him, you look down to see him breathless and glistening. His face is smeared with your juices, his expression one of absolute, blissful submission. He looks up at you, dazed and completely spent, a small, satisfied smile on his lips as he tastes you off his own skin.
i automatically assume the reader has a silk press or box braids when y'all are describing hair in these stories. LMFAOOOOOO, you will NOT rain on my parade. i'll picture michael x reader being about a black girl every single time
warnings: manipulative!bsf reader, very experienced!reader, inexperienced!michael, praising, whiny mike, unprotected sex, religious guilt, possessive and obsessive reader, slight breeding kink from reader, slight face slapping, just overall messy!
notes: black fem reader! i always write for black women <3
‘this is wrong. all of this is wrong.’ you’re now sitting on michael’s lap, slowly grinding on his growing bulge, your wet panties and his now stained jeans from your arousal, acting as a barrier between you two from anything further as you’re hungrily making out with a nervous and pent up michael.
pushing himself from your hungry lips, he speaks, “y’know, w-we shouldn’t—”
“c’mon, mike. friends so this all the time, and you’re my friend, right? my best friend as a matter of fact. don’t you trust me, do you want me to help you out, hm?”
michael bit the inside of he cheek like he’s thinking of an answer to give you, which he has nothing to think of. he always gives in to you, that’s a known fact. he absolutely loathes making you upset. he gets physically ill knowing that his best friend since birth is mad at him for something he did.
“i-i do trust you, [name]. l-like this is an intimate moment for lovers. we ain’t lovers, we’re friends. a-and you’re not my girlfriend.” he stated while looking everywhere else but your eyes. you squished his cheeks to turn him to face you, his eyes widening at the change of your demeanor.
“if you’re gonna say something like that, at least look me in the eyes while you do so, okay?” michael felt so ashamed at how turned on he gets whenever you have an ounce of authority in your tone. lewd thoughts fills his head every time whenever you tell him to do something, could be simple like “look at me when you’re talking, baby.” it’s a sin. a god forbidden sin.
michael gulps, feeling himself twitch in his tight jeans as you give him an order, how embarrassing. “ ‘m so sorry.” was all he can say, his head lowering towards your breasts to hide from the slight humiliation he just faced.
“so, you rather have a random girl show you what to do than your own best friend you’ve know for years? wow, michael. sounds like you got a lil’ mouth on you too.” you tsk at his words, his grip on your waist getting tighter as you try to wiggle free.
“n-no, please. trust you so much. i want you, not a random girl, mama. please.” he whines and starts thrusting a bit into you.
“m’kay, baby. i’ll let you off the hook since this is your first time. next time, i won’t be so soft.” “you wink before getting off of his lap and sinking down to between his legs, knees digging into the carpet.
his eyes grew big as he looks at the beautiful and sinful sight in front of him. “please lord forgive for the sinful acts i’m gon’ commit.” he breathes out as you palm his painful bulge. “look at me, baby.” he looks down and sees you smiling, the most innocent smile ever.
“can’t wait to put this cock into my mouth. i bet you’ll love that, wouldn’t you? seeing your best friend stuff her mouth full with your cock?” michael grunts at your vulgar language, “s-such dirty words comin’ from that pretty mouth, mama.”
you unzipped his jeans and free himself from his tight pants that was causing to thrash around to get some sort of relief. pumping him a few times before kitty licking the tip which oozed pre cum. michael threw his head back, he cannot see the dirty sight that’s unraveling in front of him.
“look at me ‘fore i stop.” you slowed your hand down that’s wrapped around his girth. his head snapped towards you, “please. ‘m sorry-” he choked on his words as your mouth sunk down onto this cock.
“o-oh lord, please.” you began to go a little faster, hands on both of his thighs to prevent him from closing them around your head. michael’s hands flew to his hair, so dazed out that he doesn’t know what to do with wondering hands.
michael gazed down to the sight. your teary eyes, spit cascading down your chin to your throat and between the valley of your breasts. ‘oh lord, i’m going to hell for this ain’t i?’
his legs begin to shake as he feels a warm sensation in the pit of his stomach. “w-wait, i’m gonna make a mess. please-” you let up with a ‘pop’ and smiled at him with salvia covering your mouth and chin.
“this is so dirty. you’re so dirty.” michael breathed out, watching you take off your mini skirt. “yeah? i’m dirty? well, we’re gonna see how dirty you get once you finally feel some pussy.” you hover over his twitching cock, easing yourself onto him. soft moans fill the air as you fully sink down onto the flustered man.
“fuck— ‘m so full, mikey. fillin’ me up so well.” michael looks at you with tear filled eyes. he didn’t know it would feel this good, so good that he makes him cry.
“o-oh please, mama. feels so so good, when you bounce like t-that.” he looks up at you towering over him like he’s your prey.
“w-with me around, you wouldn’t need a girlfriend, b-baby. only me. you’re mine.” you slapped him lightly, catching him off guard, “t-tell me who i belong to michael. t-this is your pussy, yeah.”
michael shakes his head, too immersed at how good you feel wrapped around his cock. so nice and so warm, he could stay inside of you forever. “y-you belong to me— ah— you f-feel so nice, mama.”
holding your balance by using the arms of the loveseat, you begin to bounce slightly faster and harder.
“you’re mine, m-michael. always will be mine. you gon’ fill this pussy up to prove me, hm? make your best happy, be a good boy for me, angel.” michael feels that familiar warm pool in his stomach. before he could push you away, you locked onto him, making his eyes become big like saucers.
“n-no mike, inside me. cum inside me, want to carry your baby.” this sends michael over the edge. eyes blurry from the stinging tears, drool flowing down the corner of his mouth.
“b-but i’ll get y-you pregnant like this, we c-can’t.” michael couldn’t fight you off, it was so useless. “oh, baby i’m gonna cum. please cum with me, fuck.”
michael’s eyes screwed shut as he feels his warm seed shooting into you. he opens his eyes and looks down at the white ring that formed around the base of his cock.
“mike, i’m kinda feelin’ for round two.”
“oh lord.”
this is like my second time writing smut lol but i hope y’all enjoyed, since this was kinda rushed but i will write more in the future hopefully (more detailed btw i am a very busy woman, sadly. so updates will be slow.)
synopsis: you and micheal have been by each others side since you were kids. j*seph feels like you’re in the way of the family’s success so he gives you an ultimatum, can you and michael survive it?
warnings: angst, j5/otw/thriller era, j*e jackson (i made him as evil as possible. i really really don’t like him)
wc: 12.3k (this is a longgggg one)
a/n: this is based off the request: Hi can you make an MJ off the wall/thriller era fic with singer reader being 2 years younger than him but he’s always loved her. they’ve been friends since they were kids, & now lovers. Joe can’t stand her even when she was a child because he swore she was taking him away from the group and making the boys not listen. Joe breaks them up & gives her an ultimatum. Michael is sad and angry at her but they meet each other again at a party & do the ending however but that would be cute.
(i almost turned this into 2 parts but decided against it. hopefully y’all stay all the way to the end!)
1968
“Come on, y'all need to tighten up!” Joseph’s voice echoed loudly through the room, cutting the music dead. He stepped into Michael's line of sight, his eyes narrowing. “Michael, look at me. I need your eyes.”
You sit next to Michael’s mother, Katherine, on the couch as you watch Michael and his brothers practice in the living room. The space, normally meant for family gatherings, has been completely cleared out, the furniture pushed against the walls to make room for the rhythm of heavy loafers hitting the floorboards. They air in the room is thick, warm, and heavy with the subtle scent of sweat vibrating with the intensity of Joseph’s expectations.
Even at nine years old, Michael carries a weight on his shoulders that looks far too heavy for his small frame. His brows are knit together in concentration, his afro bouncing slightly as he executes a sharp, flawless spin. But despite the precision of his movements, you can see the deep exhaustion behind his eyes.
Suddenly, Joseph steps forward, his large frame cutting off the light from the window. "Hold it! Stop, stop," he barks, clapping his hands together with a sound like a pistol shot. The Tito abruptly takes his fingers from his guitar, leaving an deafening, ringing silence in the room. Joseph points a finger directly at Michael. "Michael, you draggin’ on the turn. Ya’ mind is wanderin’. I told you, I need your eyes locked in. You think the people at Motown are gonna pay to see you daydreamin’?"
Michael drops his gaze to the floor, his chest heaving as he catches his breath. "No, Joseph. ‘M sorry."
Still sitting on the sofa, you feel yourself tense up, your fingers digging into the fabric of your skirt. But beside you, Katherine remains a calm, unyielding anchor. She reaches out, her hand resting gently on her husband's arm as he steps closer to the boys.
The tension in the room hung as thick as the heat pressing through the windows, heavy and suffocating. Michael stood in the center of the floor, his chest heaving beneath his damp shirt as his father’s harsh words echoed off the walls. He looked so small in that moment, his shoulders curving inward as if he was trying to shield himself from Joseph's glare.
Slowly, but carefully, as if testing whether his father would catch him moving, Michael lifted his chin just an inch. His eyes didn't look at his mother, and they dare didn't look back at Joseph.
Instead, they flicked straight to you.
They were swimming with a mixture of exhaustion and a quiet, desperate plea. It was a look you knew all too well—the one he only used when the pressure felt like it was going to crush him entirely.
Your heart squeezed. You unclasped your fingers and smoothed them out over your skirt as you gave him a soft nod. Your lips curved into a warm, reassuring smile, a private signal meant just for him. It’s okay, the smile promised. I'm here.
The change in him was almost immediate. The line of Michael's shoulders relaxed by a fraction, and a tiny smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. It was fleeting, gone in a blink so Joseph wouldn't catch it, but the sudden spark of relief in his eyes was unmistakable. For a second, the room seemed to fade, leaving just the two of you together in the quiet understanding you had shared.
"Joseph, please," Katherine’s voice broke the brief silence, her tone dropping into a low, private murmur that barely carried across the living room. Her hand remained steady on his forearm. "The boys have been running these steps since early this morning. Look at them, they're spent. Give them a break.”
Joseph didn't yell, instead his voice dropped into a low, gravelly snap that made the everyone, including you, stiffen. "I look at them and I see sloppy footwork, Katherine. If they spent, it's because they wastin’ energy on unimportant things."
He slowly turned his head, his eyes cutting directly past his wife to lock onto you. His brow furrowed deeply, his voice now only low enough for Katherine to hear. "That girl shouldn't even be in here during rehearsal, Kate. Every single minute he spends gigglin’ with her out in the yard is a minute he isn't focusin’ on the group.”
Katherine didn't back down entirely, but her posture softened, knowing exactly how far she could push before the argument turned into something much worse for the children. "She’s a sweet child, Joseph, and her mother is a dear friend of mine," she replied, her voice dropping even lower, laced with a quiet, maternal protectiveness, despite you not being her child. "They aren't doing any harm. They're just children. Let them have ten minutes."
Joseph scoffed, looking from his wife down to Michael, who had quickly dropped his eyes back to his shoes. With a resentful grunt, Joseph finally waved a hand in dismissal.
"Ten minutes," Joseph grumbled, turning on his heel toward the kitchen table to look over a stack of documents, his heavy footsteps vibrating through the floorboards. "Ten minutes. And then we run the entire set from the top, flawlessly."
The second Joseph's back was fully turned, the suffocating weight in the room seemed to lift. Michael's head snapped up, his eyes bright and completely alert as he looked back at you. The timid expression he wore for his father completely vanished, replaced by a familiar warmth.
He didn't wait for his brothers to scatter. In three quick strides, Michael walked across the floor straight to the couch. Before his father could even think to turn around and change his mind, Michael caught you gently by the wrist, his hand warm and slightly damp from the practice.
He didn't say a word, but the urgent tug on your hand spoke volumes. With a soft, breathless laugh, he pulled you up from the sofa and guided you quickly up the stairs, rushing toward his bedroom.
The moment the bedroom door clicked shut behind you, the tense atmosphere of the house evaporated completely. Michael let out a long sigh, the kind that came from deep in his chest, and threw himself backward onto his mattress, staring at the ceiling.
He stayed like that for a long moment, completely motionless, as if letting the quiet of the room wash over him. The only sound was the steady, rhythmic rise and fall of his chest and the faint, distant sound of birds chirping from outside.
You crawled further up the bed, your knees sinking into the soft quilt, and sat cross-legged just a few inches away from his feet. You didn't press him to talk. You knew that sometimes, the greatest gift you could give Michael was just letting him occupy a space where nothing was expected of him.
Slowly, Michael turned his head on the pillow, his brown doe eyes looking up at you. "Did I really look like I was daydreaming?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper, cracking slightly with a vulnerability he would never dare show his father.
"No," you said softly, reaching out to gently nudge his arm. "I think you looked amazin’, Mikey, you always do. Your spin was so fast I don't even know how you didn't get dizzy."
A small, genuine smile finally tugged at his lips, a faint dimple appearing on his cheek. It wasn't the practiced, dazzling smile he flashed for the cameras, it was soft and shy. "I was dizzy," he confessed with a tiny, breathless giggle, rolling over onto his side so he was facing you, propping his head up with his hand. "But Joseph says if you think about being tired, you become tired, so I try to think about other things."
"Like what?" you asked, leaning forward, resting your chin in your hands.
Michael’s eyes lit up with a sudden excitement, the heavy exhaustion momentarily forgotten. "Y’know, like the music we listened to on the radio yesterday, or what it's like on the other side of the world—like do you really think people in Europe have to practice dancing all day?"
"I don't think anybody practices as much as you do," you replied honestly, giving his shoulder a few light pats.
He leaned into your touch slightly, though it was brief, his expression softening into something deeply peaceful. "I like it when you're here," he murmured, his gaze dropping to the quilt between you before rising back to meet your eyes. "When Joseph is yelling and everything feels so loud... I look at you, and it just gets quiet. Like the rest of the house disappears. I dunno’.. does that sound silly?"
Your heart swelled, a profound sense of protectiveness washing over you, "No, You’re my best friend, Mikey. I’m gonna be around till’ you get tired of me.”
"Promise?" he smiles, his voice suddenly small, reaching out a hand and extending his pinky toward you.
"I promise," you whispered, hooking your pinky into his.
1973
You were there for just about every practice from then on, watching the hours blend together. And when they weren’t singing and dancing until their feet went numb, you and Michael would play together, retreating into a world that belonged only to the two of you.
But Joseph always found you to be a problem. He kept a hawk like watch on the room, noticing how Michael would act whenever you were around. He was less focused, too.. giddy, laughing a little too easily, and sometimes even forgetting the lyrics whenever you were in the room. His brothers noticed, sharing knowing glances or teasing nudges when Joseph wasn't looking. Katherine noticed, her eyes softening with a gentle warmth. And of course, Joseph noticed—his jaw tight, tracking every stolen glance and every drop in Michael's concentration.
To Joseph, you weren't just a friend of his son anymore. You wrre a problem.
The years bled into one another, and the innocence of childhood began to shift under the weight of their skyrocketing fame. Michael was fourteen now, transitioning into a deeper voice and a sharper, more measured presence, while you were twelve, growing up right alongside him. The Jackson 5, who were now dubbed The Jacksons from Epic Records, was topping the charts, and every single second of their lives was controlled for success.
The boys had just finished a grueling, five-hour rehearsal. The room was hot and the boys were exhausted. The moment Joseph called a temporary recess, Michael didn't even pause to grab a towel. His eyes immediately sought yours out across the room, and with that familiar, quiet urgency, he nudged your shoulder.
Joseph’s sharp eyes tracked the two of you as you left the living room, heading up the stairs and down the hallway to disappear into Michael's bedroom.
The heavy wood of the bedroom door clicked shut behind you.
In the living room, Joseph watched the empty hallway. A dark, venomous huff rolled out of his chest. He turned on his heel, his heavy boots thudding against the floorboards as he marched into the kitchen where Katherine was quietly folding laundry.
"I done had it, Katherine," Joseph slammed his heavy palm down onto the countertop, the sharp crack echoing through the lower floor of the house . "I've had it with that damn girl.”
Katherine didn't flinch, but her hands paused over a faded cotton shirt. She closed her eyes for a brief second, bracing herself, before looking up with a steady, quiet resolve. "Joseph, what is the issue, they’re only resting?"
"Restin’?" Joseph’s voice didn't rise to a shout, but it dropped into a dangerous, gravelly register that carried a terrifying weight. He leaned over the counter, his frame casting a long shadow over his wife. "Michael don't need to rest with her. Did you see him in there today? He missed the cue on the bridge twice. Twice, Katherine. He was over there looking at her—waiting for her to give him a lil’ nod like he needs her permission to sing or some shit."
“He's fourteen, Joe," Katherine countered, her voice dropping lower, trying to absorb the impact of his anger. "He’s a boy. He's growing up, and he needs a friend who sees his normally. He’s already told me it’s hard for him to make friends with other kids and that girl gives him peace."
"Peace don't pay the bills, Kate! And peace damn sure don't put records at number one!" Joseph snapped, his eyes flashing with a cold, unyielding fury. He pointed to the ceiling,directly toward the room where you and Michael were in. "I’m tellin’ you she’s a distraction to that boy—I see the way he gets. Look, he’s the leader of this group. The lead. This whole family’s future is riding on his back, on his focus. If his mind is wanderin’ to some girl, the boys stop listenin’ to ‘em. The discipline falls apart."
"She isn't doing anything but sitting there, Joseph," Katherine said, her voice trembling slightly now. "She clearly loves him. They've been around each other since they were kids."
"And that's exactly why she’s a problem," Joseph hissed, leaning closer, his words cutting like glass. "She think she's entitled to his time. She think she owns a piece of him. I'm tellin’ you right now, Katherine, she gotta’ go. If she keeps cluttering up his head, if she keeps making him act like he ain’t got no sense, I will keep her from this house permanently. I don't give a damn who her mother is. Michael belongs to the stage, and I won't let some lil’ girl ruin everything I've bled for."
Katherine held his gaze, her jaw tight, a deep, painful ache in her chest. She knew Joseph meant every word. She knew that as Michael grew older, Joseph’s grip would only tighten—and you would be the very first thing he would try to get rid of.
1977
Upstairs, the heavy, muffled thuds of Joseph’s pacing downstairs eventually faded into a tense, distant background noise. Inside the sanctuary of Michael’s bedroom, the world always slowed down.
Four years had blurred past in a flurry of television specials, stadium lights, and endless travel, but within these four walls, nothing changed. Michael was eighteen now, his frame stretching out, taller and more defined, though he still carried that gentle, shy humbleness.
You were sitting on the edge of his bed, fiddling with the hem of your top while you shared a secret that had been keeping you awake at night.
"My mama... she's been talkin’ to some people, Mike," you admitted softly, looking up to meet his gaze. "She really wants me to start a singing career. Professionally. Like, in the studio, makin’ records—the whole thing."
You held your breath, suddenly nervous. Michael knew the brutal reality of the industry better than anyone. You half expected him to warn you, to tell you how exhausting it was, or how much it could change a person.
Instead, an incredibly sweet smile broke across his face. He leaned forward from his chair, his voice dropping into that trademark, soft tone that always made the rest of the world vanish.
"Your voice is beautiful," he said softly, his large brown eyes shining with absolute sincerity. "I think you should do it, really. People deserve to hear you."
There was something so pure, so completely adorable about the way he said it—completely devoid of the skepticism that usually surrounded the business. His words, laced with that quiet, unwavering faith in you, finalized your decision right then. If Michael believed in you, you were sure you could handle it.
And he was right.
Within the next year, everything moved at a dizzying pace. With your parents guidance and Michael’s quiet encouragement acting as your foundation, you caught the attention of the industry. Before you knew it, you had signed a major deal with Epic Records. Your debut solo album dropped, instantly climbing the R&B charts and blasting through the radio across the country, making you one of the quickest growing young artists of the 70s. You were suddenly being pulled into a whirlwind of fame, but through it all, your heart remained anchored to the boy who had cheered for you first.
To celebrate your massive success, Michael wanted to do something completely private, away from the prying eyes of the press and his family. He had Bill take his vehicle through the roads of Los Angeles, dropping the two of you off at a secluded clearing near a quiet creek he had personally scouted out earlier that day during a drive.
When you stepped out into the cool night air, your jaw dropped. Bathed in the soft, silver glow of the moon, a cozy picnic layout was waiting for you on a thick blanket, complete with a basket of a few of your favorite foods and flickering lanterns.
“Mike, you did all this for me?” you asked in complete awe, turning around to look at him as the crickets chirped softly around the clearing.
Michael immediately rubbed the back of his neck, a deep, bashful flush creeping up his cheeks as he looked down at his shoes.
“Yeah," he mumbled shyly, giving you a quiet, nervous little smile. "I wanted to show you how much I appreciated you. And—y’know—I know you don’t like big, extravagant stuff, so I thought this would be nice… you like it?”
“I love it,” you said softly, your heart swelling to the point of aching.
Without a second thought, you stepped into his space and wrapped your arms tightly around his neck in a warm embrace. Michael froze for a fraction of a second in surprise before his arms came up, wrapping shyly and securely around your waist. His hands were shaking slightly, his heart hammering against his ribs, completely captivated by your closeness.
After you had finished eating, the nervous energy melted into a comfortable, familiar ease. You sat close next to each other on the blanket, your shoulders brushing as you both leaned back on your hands, tilting your heads up to watch the endless tapestry of stars shining through the trees.
The silence between you was peaceful, until Michael broke it.
“I don’t wanna’ be in a band with my brothers anymore.”
The sudden confession caught you completely off guard. You turned your head quickly, looking at the sharp, gorgeous profile of his face under the moonlight. “Really? I thought you liked singing with them?”
“I do—well.. I mean.. they’re my brothers and I love them,” Michael stammered softly, his eyes tracing the constellations as he tried to find the right words to express a truth he had kept locked away for so long. “But... I wanna’ start doing my own thing, living my own life. I don’t wanna’ be up under Joseph anymore. I want a solo career.”
A warm, knowing smile spread across your face. You shifted your arm, your hand still resting on the blanket but now slightly closer to his. “You do have a voice of gold, Mikey.”
The old childhood nickname made him instantly blush, and he quickly covered his face with one hand, a soft, embarrassed giggle escaping his lips.
“I understand your reasonings,” you continued, your voice steady and full of the same faith he had given you a year prior. “I support it, I really think you should. You encouraged me to do my own thing. And if I made it, I know you can. You’re really talented, you always have been.”
Michael lowered his hand from his face, turning his head to look at you. An adoring, intensely deep look pooled in his eyes at your confession. Your belief in him seemed to pierce through every doubt Joseph had ever planted in his head.
Slowly, his breath hitching, he shifted his weight. He nervously rubbed his sweaty palms against the denim of his jeans, his heart beating so hard he was certain you could hear it echoing over the sound of the nearby rushing water.
“There was.. um.. another reason I brought you here tonight…” he murmured, trying to hide the small quiver in his voice.
You took your gaze away from the sky once more, turning your full attention back to him. Michael gulped, his eyes locking onto yours. The ethereal shine of the moon caught your skin so perfect, with the warm night breeze gently rustling your hair, God... you were so pretty. It felt like the entire universe had narrowed down to just this moment.
He swallowed hard, his throat tight as he looked down at his lap for a split second, trying to gather the courage that usually came so easily to him on a stage. When he looked back up, his eyes were completely filled with a vulnerability that almost made your breath hitch.
"I've been tryna’ find the words to say this for... I don't know—maybe my whole life," Michael began, reaching out, his fingers trembling slightly as he gently took your hand, his thumb tracing soft, slow circles over your knuckles. "Ever since we were little kids... you were the only thing that really made sense to me. I could be stressed out from all the pressure put on me, but… if I could look over and see you smiling at me, I knew I was gonna survive it."
He took a slow, deep breath, his chest heaving under his shirt as he squeezed your hand a little tighter.
"Everyone else looks at me and just sees me as a performer, someone they can look at and take pictures of. But you see me. A-and when I'm with you, I feel like I'm finally allowed to just breathe. I’ve watched you grow up, and I’ve watched you become this incredibly beautiful, talented girl, and every single day my heart just gets heavier because I’m so full of these feelings for you." He paused, a shy, incredibly tender smile breaking through his nervousness. "I don’t love you just as my best friend. Girl, I’m completely in love with you. I’ve always been in love with you. And tonight, seeing you shine with your own success... I just couldn't keep it a secret anymore. I wanna’ be the one who supports you, who holds you, if you'll let me."
The confession hung beautifully in the warm night air, the steady rush of the creek providing the perfect ambiance to a moment that was long overdue. You didn't say a word at first. Instead, you let your actions speak for you, leaning in to seal your lips against his in a sweet, lingering kiss that answered every unspoken question.
1979
The world didn't stop turning after that night, but for Michael, everything had changed. He had a secret anchor now—a deep, passionate romance with you that kept him grounded even as he prepared to make the biggest gamble of his musical career.
It was 1978 when the trajectory of Michael's life altered forever. While filming The Wiz, Michael found himself coming in contact with a legendary force in the music industry: Quincy Jones.
The studio was far different from the Jackson home. There was a faint scent of cigars, something Michael would soon get accustomed to. Quincy sat behind the massive mixing console, his glasses perched on the edge of his nose, exuding an effortless aura of confidence.
"You've gotta’ lot of fire in you, son," Quincy said one late afternoon. He leaned back in his leather chair, looking at the young man standing by the microphone. "But you're still singin’ like you're holdin’ onto somethin’. You gotta let the music come from your soul. What do you wanna’ say, Michael?"
"I wanna’ make a record that shows who I am as a man, Q," Michael said, his voice firm, stepping out completely from his father's suffocating shadow. "I want full creative freedom. I want people to dance, but I want ‘em to feel my heart, too."
Quincy smiled, a low chuckle rolling out of him. "Alright then.. let's get to work."
The months that followed were a blur of pure musical bliss. Working on what would become the Off the Wall album was the first time Michael truly felt like, what he called: ‘the master of his own destiny’. He wasn't just executing Joseph's vision anymore, he was creating his own.
On the few nights you would spend curled up on the studio couch when you weren’t busy, you watched Michael collaborate with Quincy. The atmosphere was electric, filled with the funky, driving bass lines and smooth, intoxicating rhythms. Michael was a force of nature in the room, snapping his fingers, tapping his leg, and letting out those sharp, joyful vocal hiccups that were uniquely his.
Every time a track came together perfectly, Michael would bounce out of the recording booth, his face completely radiant. He wouldn't go to the executives or the producers first; he would go straight to you, grabbing your hands and spinning you around the studio lobby with a breathless laugh.
When the album finally dropped in late 1979, it was a staggering, triumphant success. It shattered records, blending R&B, pop, and disco into a masterpiece that critics and fans couldn't get enough of.
One evening, after a massive celebration party hosted by Epic, Michael snuck away into a quiet, dimly lit playback room in the studio, pulling you in with him and locking the door. He put on a personal vinyl record of his, letting the smooth title track wash over the room.
Michael smiled, pulling you flush against him as he gently buried his face in the crook of your neck. He just held you there for a long time, his arms wrapped tightly around your waist, breathing you in while the smooth, rhythmic baseline of the title track filled the quiet room. There was no dancing, no performing, no movement at all—just the heavy, grounding weight of his body pressed against yours, letting the reality of his achievement finally sink in.
He let out a soft, shaky breath against your skin, his grip tightening just a fraction. It felt less like a celebration and more like a relief, a quiet moment of peace before the rest of the world demanding a piece of his success came knocking on the door.
"I don't think I would've made it here if I didn’t have you," he murmured, his voice thick with a sudden rush of emotion. He pulled back just enough to look down at you, his thumb gently brushing across your cheekbone. "When I’d started getting frustrated or didn’t have any inspiration... I'd think of you. And I'd remember who I was doin’ this for."
You reached up, cuping his jaw with your hand, feeling the slight warmth of his skin. "You did this for you, baby.”
"No, I did it for us," he corrected softly, a cute smile reaching his eyes. He leaned down, pressing his forehead against yours, closing his eyes as the music spun out on the turntable. "Yeah—I want the whole world to love my music. But I only care if you do, doll."
For the first time in his life, he felt like a truly independent man, riding the highest wave of his career. He was completely at peace.
1980
Joe tapped his foot impatiently on the living room carpet. The instruments sat on the cleared table, and the brothers stood in a loose, tense semi-circle on the wooden floor, shifting from foot to foot. Rehearsal was supposed to start fifteen minutes ago, and Joseph’s patience had worn thin.
“Where the hell is Michael?” Joseph huffed in deep frustration, his heavy brows slamming together as he checked his watch. He scanned the faces of his sons, his glare sharp enough to draw color from someone’s face.
The older brothers exchanged uneasy glances. Jackie bit his lip, Marlon quickly looked down at his shoes, each of them offering a silent shrug or a quiet "I don't know" to avoid their father's rising temper.
Except for Randy.
Randy chuckled, a knowing, mischievous glint in his eye. “Think he's upstairs with his girl,” he smirked, crossing his arms over his chest.
A few of the other brothers couldn't help but let out slight, muffled laughs at the comment, the sound cutting through the tension for a split second. But the amusement died instantly. Joseph didn’t find it funny at all. A dark scowl twisted his features, and without a single word, he turned and immediately marched up the stairs to get Michael, his heavy boots slamming into the steps with purpose.
Upstairs, the rest of the world had ceased to exist. Inside the quiet sanctuary of his bedroom, you were perched comfortably on Michael’s lap. His hands were resting gently but firmly on your waist, his grip warm and steady as the temperature in his body grew hot against yours. He was completely lost in the rhythm of you two making out, something he’s never done before you, so, of course, he let you take the lead.
Slowly, you moved your lips away from his mouth, sliding down to press soft, lingering kisses along the warm skin of his jawline and down his neck. Michael let out a series of soft, breathless chuckles, his chest heaving as a heavy shudder ran through him.
“Mama..” he sighed, his voice a velvet whisper, his fingers tightening against your hips as he tilted his head back to give you better access.
Your fingers moved to the front of his shirt, just beginning to undo the top button, when several violent pounds on the wooden door shattered the silence of the room. The force of the knock was so loud it rattled the frame, instantly breaking the moment.
Joseph’s loud, booming voice cut through the thick wood from the other side, causing you to instantly pull your head up toward the door, your heart leaping into your throat.
“Michael! Boy, you better get down here with your brothers ‘fore I come in there!”
The raw, authoritative venom in his voice hung heavily in the hallway. You slowly lowered your gaze back to Michael. The passionate glow that had filled his eyes just seconds ago was gone, replaced by a mix of irritation, embarrassment, and a intense sense of defeat. He looked like he wanted to scream, but the invisible chains of his father's control still held their weight.
Brushing your thumb gently across his cheek, you offered him a soft, reassuring smile to ease the sudden tension in his jaw. “It’s alright, angel,” you whispered softly, your voice a calm contrast to the shouting outside from just seconds ago. “I should probably be heading home anyway.”
He looked up at you, his large brown eyes melting into that heartbreaking puppy-dog look he always gave whenever he didn't want you to leave. “Are you sure?” he asked, his voice incredibly small.
“Yeah,” you nodded gently, sliding off his lap to give him room to breathe. “I’ll be back Saturday, though. I gotta’ record on Friday.”
Hearing that you had to work seemed to bring him a little comfort, a reminder of the shared world you both navigated now. Michael stood up, smoothing down his shirt with a heavy sigh. “I’lll get Bill to take you home.”
You and him made your way down the stairs together, bypassing the living room where Joseph was already barking orders at the rest of the boys. Michael didn't say a word to his father as he walked you straight out the front door, stepping into the warm California sun.
Down in the driveway, the sleek car was waiting. Bill was perched against the side of the vehicle, quietly reading a newspaper to pass the time. He looked up as the front door opened, folding the paper neatly under his arm.
“Bill, can you take her home for me?” Michael asked, his hand lingering gently on the small of your back.
You had been in Michael's life for so long that Bill didn't even need an address. He already had the exact route to your house completely memorized by now, having taken you home countless times after late, secret nights spent wrapped in your boyfriend's arms.
“Sure, kid,” Bill said with a polite, respectful smile, immediately moving to open the back passenger door.
Before you stepped inside, you turned around to look back at Michael. The sunlight caught the beautiful, rich details of his face, but you could tell by the tight line of his mouth that he didn’t want you to go.
Reaching up, you put his face gently in your hands, your fingers brushing against his temples as you pulled him down to place a few soft, lingering kisses on his lips.
“I love you. I’ll see you Saturday, okay?” you murmured against his mouth.
“Okay,” he whispered back, his eyes closing briefly as he inhaled your scent, holding onto the feeling of your hands. “I love you too.”
When your moment was finished, you reluctantly pulled away. Bill held the backseat door open for you, ensuring you were completely settled and comfortable before he gently clicked it closed.
You looked out the window as the car began to roll down the long driveway. Michael stood alone on the pavement, his hands tucked into his pockets, watching you go with a heavy, longing gaze. Only when the car finally disappeared behind the massive iron gates did Michael turn around, his shoulders dropping as he walked back inside to face his father.
That wasn’t the only time you’ve interfered with practices like this. Joseph could barely handle it when you two were just friends in your younger years. But now that you’re older and we’re coming over a lot more, the crack in the Jacksons was growing impossible for him to ignore. He’s noticed Michael’s subtle distance from the group. Michael didn’t care about the the band anymore, his heart just wasn't in it the way it used to be. He cared about his own solo career, and he cared about you. And Joseph absolutely hated it.
It was getting too frequent now. Michael would show up late, or he'd miss rehearsals entirely, because he’d be tucked away with you, losing track of time in a world where his father’s rules didn't apply. And now that you had your own successful career, the stakes had completely changed. Joseph saw you as more than just a little distraction, he saw you as direct competition. You were a rising star on the exact same label, an independent force pulling his money maker away from the family brand. Joseph could feel his control slipping, and he needed to get rid of you, quickly.
A few days after the broken moment in the bedroom, their was heavy tension throughout the Hayvenhurst estate. Michael was downstairs, enduring a grueling vocal session with his brothers, while Joseph sat in his private office. The blinds were drawn, cutting the sun into sharp lines across his wooden desk.
On the top lay copies of the latest music trades. Your name was printed in bold, climbing the charts right alongside the tracking for Michael's solo work.
Joseph stared at the pages, his jaw clenched so tightly the muscles in his cheek twitched. He remembered the little girl who used to sit on his couch, the one Katherine always defended. He had thought it was a phase, a childish crush that would burn out under the exhausting pressure of show business.
Instead, you had grown into a threat.
"Sum’ bullshit’," Joseph muttered to the empty room, his gravelly voice thick with resentment.
Just yesterday, Michael had arrived forty-five minutes late to an important meeting with the him and his brothers because he had been driven out to your studio just to watch you record. When Michael finally did show up, his mind was entirely somewhere else. He had smiled through the meeting, polite but distant, his thoughts clearly lingering on the soft kisses you had shared in the studio parking lot.
Joseph slammed his fist down onto the desk, rattling the gold pen casing. He had spent decades working his ass off for this family’s success, making his sons practice until their feet bled, building a legacy from nothing. He wasn't about to watch the only thing keeping that group afloat—walk away from them because he was too lovesick to focus.
In Joseph's eyes, you were poison to Michael. You gave him a taste of freedom, a solo career of your own that proved a person could survive in the industry without Joseph's iron fist guiding them.
"Had enough of this" Joseph hissed, standing up and walking over to the window, peering out toward the long driveway where Bill usually waited.
A plan was already forming in his mind. He couldn't stop Michael from loving you—he knew his son well enough to know that Michael's devotion was fierce and stubborn. But he could change your mind. He knew how the industry worked, knew the levers to pull, and knew exactly how vulnerable a young female artist truly was when a powerful manager decided to make things “difficult”.
Joseph checked his watch, the tick of the gold hands a reminder of the little time he had left to protect his investment. He didn't have to wait for Friday. His mind flashed back to the quiet conversation he had stealthily caught a piece of earlier—the soft exchange of promises between you and Michael right before you left the room.
Saturday. You were coming back to his house, planning to slip right back into Michael's bedroom, right back into his head. Joseph wasn't going to let that happen. He wasn't going to let you cross that line or get anywhere near his son until he had handled this. He needed to intercept you before you could even catch Michael's eye.
Saturday morning arrived with a heavy stillness. The sun was blindingly bright against the pavement of the long driveway as Bill pulled the car up to the gates.
From the backseat, you looked out the window, a warm smile already tugging at your lips. Your recording session on Friday had gone beautifully, and all you wanted was to throw your arms around Michael’s neck, tell him all about the tracks you had laid down, and melt right back into his safety.
But as the iron gates slowly swung open, the car didn't continue for long down the driveway.
Standing right in the center of the asphalt, blocking the path, was fucking Joseph. He stood with his arms crossed over his chest, his shadow stretching long and dark across the hood of the car. He didn't look like a father greeting a guest, he looked like a prison warden.
Bill brought the car to a smooth, hesitant halt. He glanced in the rearview mirror, his eyes meeting yours with a look of quiet, tense warning.
Before you could even ask what was happening, the rear passenger door was pulled open from the outside. The hot morning air rushed into the air conditioned car, and Joseph leaned down, his sharp, calculating eyes locking onto yours.
"Get out," Joseph said, his voice dropping into that low, gravelly tone that made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. It wasn't a shout, but the absolute coldness in his tone left no room for argument. "We're gonna have a talk before you go anywhere near my son."
You stepped out of the backseat, the tiny rocks crunching beneath your shoes as you stood face to face with the man who had loomed over your boyfriend his entire childhood. You didn't flinch. You didn't shrink. Instead, your crossed your arms, mimicking his posture, and looked him dead in the eye.
"If Michael is still busy, Joseph, I can wait in his room," you said, your voice level, completely lack of the fear he usually demanded from people. "You don't need to block the driveway."
Joseph let out a short, harsh laugh, dry and condescending. He shook his head, looking down at you like you were nothing more than an insect he was about to step on. "Really? You think you own a key to this house? You think ‘cause you got a lil’ name for yourself on the radio now, you equal?" All the irritation, the years of suppressed resentment he had harbored since you were a child finally spilled out into his expression. "You always been an arrogant lil’ girl. Walkin’ into my house, actin’ like you belong here. I saw right through you from day one."
A cold, humorless smile touched your lips. You weren't stupid. You had known Joseph hated your guts since you were little, you just never gave a shit.
"I don’t give a damn what you saw," you shot back, stepping closer, your tone sharp as glass. "I'm not one of your sons. You don't control me, you don't intimidate me, and you don't tell me where I belong. Michael invited me here. I'm going inside."
You made a move to step past him, but Joseph moved with surprising speed, his massive frame shifting to completely block your path. The condescending smirk vanished from his face, replaced by a ruthless, terrifying gravity that made the air between you turn to ice.
"You gettin’ a lil loose at the lip," he hissed, his voice dropping into a low, venomous register that finally made your heart stumble. "If you don't do exactly what I say, I will pick up the phone and with one call your album will be pulled from the shelves, them tracks will be banned from the airwaves, and I will personally make sure that lil career is dead and buried before it even began.”
The sheer harm in his words hit you like a physical blow. Your breath caught in your throat, your confidence faltering for the very first time. You opened your mouth to curse at him, to tell him he was lying, but he leaned in closer, his eyes flashing with a sickening certainty.
"And don't think Michael’s safe from me either," Joseph whispered, his words cutting deep. "He ridin’ high on that album right now, thinkin’ he's an independent man. But he still answers to me. If you keep messin’ up his head, makin’ him soft, makin’ him miss rehearsals, I’ma’ break his solo career piece by piece. I’ll pull the plug on his next project. I will ruin him, and I'’ma’ make sure he knows it was your fault."
The world seemed to spin on its axis. The defense you had put up just seconds ago completely evaporated, replaced by a suffocating dread. He wasn't just threatening your dream—he was threatening Michael's. He was threatening the music Michael had worked so hard for.
Joseph saw the sudden terror in your eyes and smiled, a cruel, triumphant expression. He reached out, his finger cutting through the air to point directly toward the front door of the mansion.
"So here’s your ultimatum, girl," Joseph commanded softly, the venom practically dripping from his lips. "You're gonna’ walk up them stairs, look my son in the eye, and you're gonna’ break up this lil’ fling y’all got goin’ on. Right now. You're gonna make him believe you don't want him anymore, that you're choosin’ your own fame over him. Either you play the bad guy, or I will."
You don’t respond, you simply walk past him and toward the door. The absolute silence of your defiance makes Joseph’s smile falter for a split second, but he doesn't chase after you. He doesn't need to. He already knows what your choice is. He knows he has you backed into a corner, and that knowledge follows you like a shadow as you push open the heavy front door.
You discreetly head upstairs, keeping your steps quiet as you navigate the familiar hallway up to Michael’s room without anybody noticing.
Luckily, the faint, rhythmic muffled thuds from downstairs prove he’s still trapped with his brothers, so that gives you time to think. Your hands are shaking so violently you have to sit on the edge of his mattress just to keep from collapsing. How could Joe do this? Was he seriously that evil that he’d sabotage his own son? To destroy everything Michael had built, everything he had achieved, just to maintain a twisted sense of control?
You felt like you were going to throw up. The air in the bedroom, which usually felt like your only sanctuary, suddenly felt hot and suffocating. How were you gonna tell Michael? You can already picture his face—the way those big, beautiful eyes would fill with total confusion, then shatter into a million pieces of heartbreak.
Before you can even try to form the words in your head, the doorknob jiggles.
The door swings open, and Michael steps into the room. Immediately, an excited look takes over his face the second he sees you sitting on his bed. The heavy exhaustion from rehearsal vanishes from his features in a heartbeat.
He practically skips across the room and engulfs you in a tight, desperate hug, burying his face in your shoulder. When he pulls back just enough to look at you, he's wearing that big, adorable smile that you love so much—the one that always makes his whole face light up.
"You came early!" he beams, his voice a breathless, joyful whisper. He cups your face, his thumbs brushing over your skin as he presses a few gentle, lingering kisses to your lips before he even lets you speak. "I missed you so much, mama. I wanna hear all about your day yesterday. Did the recording go good? Tell me everything."
You feel utterly sick. The warmth of his lips against yours contrasts so sharply with the cold dread in your stomach that you stiffen under his touch.
Michael's smile slowly falters. He's perceptive of you, always has been, and he quickly notices the hollow, disassociated expression in your eyes. His hands drop from your cheeks to hold your wrists, his brow furrowing with immediate concern.
“Baby, what’s wrong?” he asks softly, his voice dropping into a vulnerable, frightened register.
You look up at him, your heart shattering into pieces inside your chest as you force the words past the lump in your throat.
“Mike.. we gotta talk..” you say lowly.
Michael’s hands tightened on your wrists, his grip instantly turning from a warm embrace into a frantic, grounding hold. That smile started to vanish slowly, replaced by a sudden, sharp panic that made him look so agonizingly young.
"What happened" he whispered, his large brown eyes searching your face, desperately scanning for any sign that you were just playing a cruel joke. "Baby, you're scaring me. Did somethin’ happen at the studio? Did somebody say somethin’ to you?”
You had to pull your hands away because if you kept feeling the steady, frantic beat of his pulse against your fingers, you were going to break down and tell him everything. You slid your wrists out of his grasp, the friction of the movement feeling like a physical tear, and stood up from the bed. You walked toward the window, turning your back to him so he couldn't see the tears that were already shining in your eyes.
"No, Mike. Nobody said anything," you said, your voice trembling despite your absolute best efforts to keep it cold. "The session went fine. It's about us."
Behind you, you heard the soft rustle of the mattress as he stood up. His footsteps were hesitant as he walked towards you.
"Us?" Michael asked, a nervous, breathless chuckle escaping his throat. "What do you mean—what about us? We're good? I was just thinking about you all day yesterday. I even started writing down some lyrics for you, and—"
"Michael, stop," you choked out, forcing yourself to use his full name. You turned around, gripping the window sill behind your back so hard your knuckles turned white. You had to look at and lie to the only person who knew you better than anyone else. "We can't do this anymore."
Michael froze in the middle of the room. The words seemed to hit him like a physical blow, his heart stopping to his stomach. He blinked, his brow furrowing in utter confusion.
"What?" he breathed, the sound barely escaping his lips. "Where is this coming from—Did I do something wrong? Is it because I was late the other day? Baby, I'm sorry, I promise I'll be better with my time. I can try to talk to Joseph, I'll make sure he doesn't—"
"It's not your dad, Mike! It's me!" you lied, your voice cracking, it teared out of your throat, the pressure in your chest was becoming too much to contain. You forced your eyes to harden, looking right past his heartbroken expression. "It's me. I've been thinking about it all weekend. Ever since my music started taking off, everything is changing. My career is growing, Mike. I'm getting pulled into meetings and promos... and I can't have this distraction anymore."
Michael flinched, his head jerking back slightly as if you had slapped him. Distraction. It was the exact word his father had hurled at you since you were children, and hearing it come out of your mouth seemed to pierce a hole straight through his heart.
"A distraction?" Michael whispered, his voice cracking violently. He took a step closer, his eyes filling with sudden tears that threatened to spill over his thick, beautiful lashes. He reached out, his hands hovering in the air between you, trembling, wanting so badly to touch you but suddenly terrified to try. "Baby, how can you say that? We've been doing this since we were kids. You're the one who gave me the courage to even do my solo album. We promised we'd support each other—"
"That was before, Michael." you said, the cruelty of your own words making you feel physically sick. "We’re not kids anymore. Were grown. We're competing for the same numbers, the same radio play, the same attention. I need to focus on my life, on my name. I can't keep carrying the weight of your family's drama, or sneakin’ around behind your father's back, or waiting for you to finish a five hour rehearsal just so I can freaking see you!"
A single tear finally escaped, tracing a slow line down Michael's cheek. He didn't even bother to wipe it away.
"I don't care about that," he tried, his voice rising slightly in a desperate, agonized plea that shattered whatever was left of your strength. He took two steps, closing the distance between you, and before you could push him away, he grabbed your upper arms. His grip wasn't harsh—it was begging. "I don't care about the songs. If you want me to stop, I'll stop. I'll give it all up! I don't want a career if it means I don't have you. You're my peace, baby. You're the only part of my life that belongs to me."
"Dont say that!" you sobbed, the tears finally bursting from your eyes as you violently pushed against his chest, breaking his grip. You couldn't let him say things like that. He was Michael Jackson. He was born for the stage. If you let him sacrifice his dream for you, Joseph would ruin him anyway, and Michael would end up hating you for the rest of his life. "Don't you dare say that shit to me! Music is your entire life, Michael! It's who you are!"
"No, it's not!" His chest was heaving, his face flushed with a desperate, wild look in his eyes you had never seen before. "It's just a job—It's just songs. But you're my best friend. You've loved me since longer than I can remember. I can’t lose that now!“
He stops and looked back at you, his hands dropping to his sides, completely defeated. His eyes were red, utterly hollowed out by a betrayal he never saw coming.
"Please," he whispered, a tiny, broken sound that completely destroyed you. He slowly dropping to his knees on the carpet right in front of you, wrapped his arms around your waist, burying his face directly into your stomach, his shoulders shaking violently as he wept. "Please don't leave me. Don't do this to me. I'll do whatever you want—Just don't walk out that door. I can't do this alone."
You stood frozen, lookingdown at one of the biggest stars in the world completely brought to his knees by your words. The pain in your stomach was so intense you felt sick. Slowly, with an agonizing hesitation, you lifted your shaking hands and placed them on his head, your fingers tangling into his soft curls one last time. You leaned down, pressing a single, desperate kiss to the top of his head, letting your tears fall into his hair.
"I'm sorry, Mikey," you whispered, using the childhood nickname that felt like a goodbye to your entire youth.
Gently but firmly, you unclasped his arms from your waist. Michael let out a soft, choked gasp of air as you pulled away, his hands falling limply to his sides. He didn't look up as you grabbed your purse from the desk.
You walked across the room, every step feeling like you were dragging a mountain behind you. When you reached the doorway, you paused for a fraction of a second, looking back at his trembling frame on the floor one last time.
You stepped out into the hallway and clicked the door shut behind you, leaving the sanctuary of your childhood behind in the dark, completely blind to the fact that Joseph was standing at the end of the corridor, watching you walk away.
1984
Three years had passed, and the world had completely rewritten itself under the weight of a single album: Thriller. Michael was no longer just a successful solo artist stepping out from his family's shadow, he was a global phenomenon, the biggest superstar in the world, holding the crown for the highest selling album of all time.
You had also carved out your own legendary path, too. Your name sat comfortably at the top of the charts right alongside his, your tracks playing on a near endless loop across every radio station in the country. But the glitz and glamour of the top spot felt cold whenever your worlds inevitably collided.
Because you were both the reigning royalty of the music industry, you were constantly forced into the same rooms. High profile galas, award shows, after parties, elite industry celebrations—you were always just a crowd away from each other.
But Michael actively avoided you.
The first time you saw him across a crowded room at a gala, your heart had stopped. He was surrounded by a massive entourage, towering bodyguards, and flashing cameras, wearing a sharp, iconic military jacket that shimmered under the chandeliers. You had tried to catch his eye, to send him just a fraction of the warmth you used to share, but the moment his gaze drifted over and landed on you, his expression went entirely blank.
He didn't glare. He didn't look angry. He simply looked right through you, turning to speak to a manager, deliberately putting his back to you.
The rejection stung worse than a slap. For three years, that had been his pattern. If you walked into a VIP lounge, he quietly exited through the back. If you were seated at a table near the front of an auditorium, his team ensured his seat was on the exact opposite side of the aisle. The sweet, bashful boy who used to hide his face in his hands had built an impenetrable wall around himself, still deeply guarded from the pain you had caused him three years ago.
But the cold shoulder didn't mean he didn't still love you.
In the quiet, lonely sanctuary of his limousine, away from the screaming fans and his new reality, the ghost of your memory still held him captive. Every single time your voice came out through the car radio speakers, a sharp ache would form directly in his chest. He would open his mouth to ask the driver to shut the sound off to protect his heart—but he never could. He would just sit there in the dark, listening to the beautiful texture of your vocals, wondering if any of the lyrics were about him.
And it was even worse during the awards season. Michael had to sit in the front row of packed auditoriums, the flashing lights reflecting off his sunglasses, and watch you walk up the steps to the stage to receive win after win. You looked utterly breathtaking under the spotlights, your hair styled flawlessly, your confidence radiant as you accepted your awards.
To the rest of the world, Michael looked like an untouchable king, politely clapping his sequined glove in approval. But behind the shades, his eyes were wide and glassy, tracing the your smile, the curve of your hips, completely torn between the deep resentment of how you had abandoned him and the overwhelming love he still carried for you.
He wanted to hate you for what you did. He wanted to believe the lies you had screamed at him about competition and distractions. But every time he looked at you, the palace of fame he had built felt like a prison.
1984
The pulsating bass of the latest hits vibrated through the floorboards of the Hollywood venue, a lavish penthouse draped in dim lighting. The room was a mob of elite talent. Actors, producers, and chart topping musicians all drinking champagne and unwinding from the high stakes tension of the award show that had concluded just hours prior.
The air grew impossibly tighter the moment the heavy double doors opened, and a quiet, electric wave of whispers rippled through the crowd.
Michael had walked in.
He was flanked by a couple of security guards, his presence immediately commanding the room despite how quietly he moved. He wore a stunning, tailored black jacket with silver accents that caught the low light, his curls falling perfectly around his face. To anyone watching, he looked like the absolute epitome of an untouchable icon—calm, poised, and towering above the industry.
But the moment his eyes scanned the room, the composure faltered.
He noticed you immediately. You were standing near the center of the lounge, comfortably mixed into a lively group conversation with a few other major celebrities. You were wearing a beautiful champagne colored dress, laughing at something a fellow artist had said, your head tilted back as the warm light danced across your skin.
Michael stood frozen for a split second, his breath hitching in his throat.
For the rest of the night, he didn’t know what got into him. The discipline he had spent three years perfecting—the strict rule to look away, to walk in the opposite direction, to erase your presence from his view—completely vanished. He couldn't stop looking at you. No matter who stepped up to congratulate him on his historic night, or how many executives tried to corner him to talk business, his gaze kept drifting right back across the crowded room, pulled to where you stood.
You never noticed it, though. You were completely absorbed in your surroundings, glowing in the success of your own career, and seemed to be genuinely enjoying your time. You smiled, sipped your drink, and conversed with an effortless grace that made his chest ache with a burning nostalgia.
Watching you look so happy, so unbothered by the madness of the room, a quiet, painful spiral of thoughts began to consume his mind.
He wondered if you had thought about him at all since you two had last spoken. He wondered if when his songs played on the radio, your chest squeezed the way his did with yours. Had you meant it when you said you needed to focus on your own name? Did you miss him, or was he truly just a chapter of your youth that you had successfully closed?
As you shared another bright laugh with the celebrities around you, Michael gripped his glass a little tighter, his heart pounding against his ribs. The anger and the hurt were still there, heavy and suffocating, but as he watched you shine from across the room, the love he had carried for you still, threatened to spill over the walls he had built to keep you out.
During the night, you found yourself out on the balcony. The booming bass of the music inside the penthouse was reduced to a distant, muffled noise. The air was crisp, a contrast to the heat of the crowded party indoors. You leaned your forearms against the cold stone railing, staring out into the, glowing Los Angeles city lights. Your hair flowed gently in the breeze, a stray curl catching across your cheek as you blinked back the heavy exhaustion of the night.
You didn't know how much longer you could be here.
To the rest of the world, you were at the absolute peak of your life. You had the fame, the money, and the industry bowing at your feet. But standing out here in the dark, the emptiness in your chest was deafening. You should be sharing these events and these massive successes with Michael. He should be the one holding your hand, spinning you around the room, laughing about how you both actually conquered the world just like you promised you would.
But you had been such a coward back then. You had actually listened to Joseph, letting his venomous threats terrify you into breaking the only heart that truly mattered. You had played the villain to protect him, and now, your relationship was forever broken.
You let out a ragged sigh. Michael probably hadn’t even thought about the past like this. It didn't seem like he had. Watching him avoid you for three years, watching him look right past you with those cold, unbothered eyes—he had moved on. He didn’t need you anymore.
A soft, hesitant clear of a throat suddenly broke the silence, shattering your thoughts.
Your head snapped around, your heart leaping violently into your throat.
Michael.
He was standing just a few feet away near the glass double doors, the light from the party casting a soft golden halo around him. He looked good—way too good. The tailored black jacket hugged his frame perfectly, and his dark curls shimmered slightly under the patio lights. He looked like a living legend, completely out of reach, yet his posture carried a faint trace of that familiar, hesitant stillness you knew by heart.
“Michael..” you muttered softly, the name escaping your lips before you could even think to stop it.
He didn't say anything at first. He kept his hands tucked loosely into his pants pockets, his movements agonizingly slow as he walked up to stand right next to you at the railing. He didn't look at you, he just stared out at the glowing city line through his sunglasses, his jawline sharp and rigid in the moonlight.
There was a small, agonizing beat of silence, the tension between you so thick it felt like it was crushing the air right out of the balcony.
Then, he finally spoke, his voice smooth, velvety, and entirely calm.
“Wanted to say congratulations.. top 3, 4 weeks in a row.”
The casualness of his tone sent a quiver straight through your veins. He was tracking your success. He knew exactly where your music sat on the charts.
“.. Thank you," you replied, your voice dropping into a soft tone. You gripped the stone railing a little tighter, choosing your next words as if you were walking on a tightrope, terrified that a single wrong word would send him back inside. "You too, you did amazing on Thriller. Whole world’s talkin’ about it."
Michael didn't move a muscle, but the corner of his jaw tightened just a fraction under his sunglasses. The steady, distant hum of the traffic below drifted up into the night air, but on the balcony, the silence returned, heavier and more suffocating than before. Michael still didn't look at you. He kept his hands in his pockets, his chin tilted up slightly as he stared out at the endless grid of the city lights.
It was silent for a long, agonizing beat before he simply asked:
“Why?”
The word was so quiet, so completely stripped of the smooth, polished superstar persona he had been wearing all night, that it caught you entirely off guard. You blinked, turning your body slightly toward him.
“Huh?” you said, your voice barely a breath.
“Why did you leave me?" Michael said, his tone shifting from smooth calculation to a raw, trembling gravity. He finally turned his head, his hand reaching up to slowly slide the sunglasses off his face, forcing you to look directly into his brown doe eyes. "I want the real reason.”
"Michael—" you choked out, your throat instantly tightening as the lie you had lived with for so long began to crumble under his gaze.
"And don't tell me it was about our careers," he interrupted, his voice dropping into a breathless, desperate whisper that cut through every defense you had. He stepped closer, the space between you disappearing until you could feel the sudden, familiar warmth radiating from his chest. "Don't tell me I was a distraction. I don’t wanna’ hear that. I know you well enough to know that there was another reason that we separated. So just tell me... please. Why did you leave?"
As the weight of his gaze pinned you to the railing, the armor you had worn all this time completely shattered. You couldn't keep the lie alive anymore. The words came crumbling out of you in a desperate, tearful rush, a confession you had choked down every single day since you walked out of his life.
You laid bare the ugly truth of that Saturday morning at the estate. You told him how Joseph had basically cornered you the second you arrived. You mentioned the venom in his father’s voice, detailing the exact ultimatum Joseph had given you: end your relationship, or watch Joseph dismantle both of your rising careers in the blink of an eye. You admitted to him how terrified you were—not just for your own dreams, but for his. You explained that you were a coward who actually believed his father's threats, and that playing the villain was the only way you knew how to protect the both of you.
As you talked, the transformation on Michael's face was devastating to watch.
The guarded, distant coldness on his face melted away first, turning into absolute shock as the missing pieces of his life finally fell into place. Then his eyes widened, the glassiness of his tears giving way to a sudden clarity. Then, as the realization of his father's betrayal settled deep into his chest, his expression shifted from disbelief to anger. The corners of his mouth trembled, his jaw tightening so hard the muscles jumped beneath his skin. The resentment he had carried against you for three years didn't just crack—it completely disintegrated, leaving his features entirely bare, struck by the agonizing realization that the girl who had broken his heart had actually been trying to save it.
“I’m sorry, Michael, I’m so sorry," you sobbed, the tears pouring down your cheeks as the weight of that secret finally lifted from your chest. "I didn’t want any of this! I just wanted to protect you. I didn’t know what else to do.”
You covered your face with your hands, your shoulders shaking violently in the cool night air. "I just—I love you so much. I didn’t want you hurt. You had worked so hard... I didn’t wanna be the cause of your success falling apart."
But Michael didn’t hear anything else. The mention of Joseph, the threats of the executives, the stolen years—it all faded into a dull hum. The only words echoing in his mind, striking his heart with the force of a punch, were the ones you had just confessed.
You loved him. You still loved him? After all this time, after the coldness, the avoidance... you were still his.
“You love me?” he said softly.
The velvet, breathless quality of his voice was so thick with emotion it sounded entirely broken. He took a slow, trembling step toward you, his hands coming out of his pockets, hovering in the space between you as if he were waking up from a nightmare.
You slowly lowered your hands, looking up at him with teary, swollen eyes, the city lights turning into a blur of gold and silver behind him.
“I know," you whispered, a heartbreaking sob catching in your throat. "I shouldn’t. Not after what I did to you.”
Michael didn't care about what you shouldn't do. Before you could even draw your next breath, he closed the distance between you. His trembling fingers found your jawline, his thumbs gently wiping away the hot tears on your cheeks as he pulled you flush against his chest. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, his large frame shaking as a ragged, heavy sigh of pure relief tore out of his throat, holding onto you so tightly.
You immediately wrap your arms around him, your hands gripping the fabric of his sharp jacket as you bury your face into his chest, crying softly. The wall that had stood between you all these years completely vanishes, replaced by the familiar, comforting warmth of his heartbeat thumping against your cheek.
Michael’s arms tighten around you until there is absolutely no space left between you. He holds you with a desperate, fierce intensity, as if he’s trying to make up for every single day wasn’t able to hold you.
"I know, sweet girl, It’s okay.." Michael whispers into your hair, his own voice cracking as his tears finally spill over, wetting the crown of your head. He rocks you gently on the secluded balcony, completely ignoring the flashing lights of the roaring party just behind the glass doors.
Michael pulls back just enough to look down at you, his pretty brown eyes glassy with tears but shining with a warmth you hadn't seen in so long. His gaze drops to your lips, his chest heaving with a soft, breathless sigh that tells you everything you need to know.
He doesn't wait. He leans down and presses his lips to yours, and the moment they meet, the entire world outside of this moment completely ceases to exist.
The kiss isn't like the careful, hesitant ones from before. It’s deep, intense. It carries the weight of three long years of aching silence. The lasting love that neither of you could ever truly erase. Michael cups the back of your neck, his fingers gently tangling into your curls to pull you impossibly closer, while his other hand rests firmly on your waist, keeping you close to him as if he's terrified you might disappear the second he lets go.
You melt completely into his touch, your hands sliding up his chest to wrap around his neck, kissing him back with everything you have left. The taste of him makes your knees go weak.
When he finally pulls back, his forehead rests against yours, both of you completely out of breath. Michael lets out a soft, wet chuckle against your lips, his thumbs gently wiping away the fresh tears on your cheeks as that smile you love so much finally returns to his face.
"’M not lettin’ you go this time," he whispers, his voice a velvet promise in the midnight air.
Pairing: Michael Jackson x fem!reader
Chapter: 1/16
Tags: fake / contract relationship, slow burn, strangers to friends to lovers, romance, hurt/comfort, not actually unrequited love, mutual pining, mutual admiration, angst with a happy ending, idiots in love
Summary:
Michael Jackson is no stranger to rumors, but when increasingly invasive articles begin dissecting his private life, even he starts to feel the weight of the headlines.
At the same time, Hollywood's favorite leading lady is growing tired of being reduced to pretty smiles and successful romance films while her dreams of becoming a serious actress remain firmly out of reach.
A carefully negotiated relationship offers a solution to both of their problems. For Michael, it provides a much-needed shift in public perception. For you, it opens doors that have always remained frustratingly out of reach. It's mutually beneficial, protected by a contract, and entirely for the cameras.
At least, that's what it's supposed to be.
A few notes before we begin:
First of all, I want to acknowledge that this story touches on some of the rumors and tabloid speculation that surrounded Michael Jackson throughout his life, including the rumors about his sexuality. These rumors are included solely because they are relevant to the context of the story and play an important role in the development of the relationship between Michael and the reader. My intention is never to mock, diminish, or exploit the pain those rumors may have caused him. Quite the opposite, actually. Throughout this story, I try to approach that period of his life with as much empathy and respect as possible. The focus of this fic is not whether those rumors were true or false, but rather the impact that public speculation, invasive headlines, and media scrutiny can have on a person. At no point is being gay portrayed as something negative or shameful; the hurt comes from strangers feeling entitled to define somebody else's identity and private life for them.
Secondly, the reader character has intentionally been left without a defined ethnicity, skin color, eye color, hair color, body type, or other physical characteristics. I want as many people as possible to be able to imagine themselves in the story, so any details that would lock the reader into a specific appearance have been omitted on purpose.
Lastly, the first chapter is a little heavier than what some of you may be expecting. It introduces several of the personal struggles both Michael and the reader are dealing with and lays the foundation for the story going forward. Don't worry though! While those themes remain important throughout the fic, things become considerably lighter once the plot gets moving, and there will definitely be plenty of friendship, banter, humor, and softer moments along the way.
At the moment I expect this story to be around 8–10 chapters long, though that may change slightly as I write.
Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoy this little fake dating fic! ❤️
October 1985
The drive back to Hayvenhurst had been unusually quiet.
Not uncomfortable, just quiet in the particular way long days full of meetings discussing the new album often left Michael afterward, when his mind became so crowded with melodies, rhythms, unfinished lyrics, and half-formed ideas that holding a conversation felt almost impossible because every spare corner of his attention was already occupied elsewhere.
Bill seemed to recognize the signs immediately. He didn't push for conversation while steering the car through the familiar streets toward Encino, occasionally glancing over only to find Michael staring absently through the window, one hand tapping softly against his knee to a rhythm that existed entirely inside his own head.
By the time the gates of Hayvenhurst finally came into view, Michael had already forgotten three separate ideas he desperately wanted to remember later.
The realization irritated him every single time.
Some melodies arrived fully formed, almost as if somebody whispered them directly into his ear. Others appeared only briefly before disappearing again, leaving behind nothing except the frustrating certainty that they had been good. Maybe even great.
And if he didn't get to a piano and his notepads soon, the newest one would probably vanish too.
The second Bill parked near the house, Michael was already reaching for the door handle.
"You're gonna work, aren't you?" Bill asked knowingly.
Michael paused halfway out of the car. "I have to."
Bill snorted. "That's what you said yesterday."
"And I was right yesterday too."
A reluctant smile tugged at Bill's mouth. "Go eat something first."
Michael immediately pointed toward him. "That's exactly what my mother says."
"Maybe she's onto something."
Michael shook his head before climbing out of the car entirely.
The house had already settled into its usual evening rhythm by the time he stepped inside. Lights glowed warmly through different rooms, distant voices drifted faintly from somewhere deeper within the house, and the smell of dinner still lingered softly in the air despite most of the family having already eaten hours earlier.
He headed straight toward the kitchen.
A few minutes later he emerged carrying a bowl of vanilla ice cream balanced carefully in one hand, absentmindedly taking small bites while continuing toward the studio.
His thoughts had drifted back to the meeting earlier almost immediately, to the hours spent sitting across from executives discussing the next album, the direction they wanted, the sound they expected, the weight of everything that came with following Thriller.
That was the problem, really. Thriller hadn't just been a success. It had become something else entirely, something that existed outside the normal rules of music, and now nobody was interested in another good album. Good wasn't enough anymore. They wanted something impossible, something bigger, a phenomenon that could somehow compete the one that came before it.
Executives wanted it. The label wanted it. The media wanted it. And most frustratingly of all, Michael wanted it too. The thought followed him all the way into the studio.
The room greeted him exactly the way it always did. Comfortably cluttered.
Sheets of music rested across multiple surfaces. Notebooks filled with unfinished lyrics occupied one corner of the keyboard. Cassette tapes sat stacked near the mixing console. Several jackets had been abandoned across chairs days earlier and never moved again.
And waiting near the desk sat the weekly mail collection. Michael smiled immediately.
The fan mail alone filled an enormous sack, and beside it stood a tall pile of official correspondence that somebody had taken the time to organize neatly into folders: contracts, business proposals, legal documents, invitations, the usual avalanche of paper that came with being the most famous person on the planet.
And next to those sat a stack of magazines gathered throughout the week by the staff whenever his name appeared inside one.
He sighed dramatically. "Work before work."
Even though his manager Frank and his lawyer John handled most of the things that landed on his desk, Michael still preferred going through everything himself first. It took longer that way, but he liked knowing what required his attention and what could safely be passed along to somebody else.
Setting the ice cream down carefully, Michael settled into the chair behind the desk and pulled the official letters closer first. Those were always the least enjoyable.
Most required little more than signatures or approvals. Others contained legal language so dense that halfway through reading them Michael often found himself staring blankly at the page without absorbing a single word.
Within twenty minutes he had already created three separate piles.
One pile for things that needed immediate attention. One pile for things he intended to ignore. And a much larger pile destined for John.
"John can deal with that."
The folder joined the growing stack.
"John can definitely deal with that."
And another one.
By the time he reached the end, his enthusiasm for legal paperwork had somehow decreased even further.
The magazines looked much more appealing. Michael pushed the letters aside and reached for the first one.
The cover alone made him laugh.
TEN THINGS MICHAEL JACKSON DOESN'T WANT YOU TO KNOW.
"Neither do you," he muttered.
Inside, the article somehow managed to claim that he slept with a notebook beside his bed in case melodies arrived during the night, carried candy in the pockets of nearly every jacket he owned, hated being photographed despite being one of the most photographed people on earth, and had once spent an entire afternoon arguing with a studio executive about the artistic merits of cartoon characters.
Michael laughed quietly to himself.
The next magazine proved even more ridiculous.
A girls' magazine. Bright colors. Heart-shaped graphics. And a giant headline reading:
MICHAEL JACKSON IS SINGLE AGAIN: ARE YOU HIS TYPE?
Michael nearly choked on his ice cream as he skimmed the article, which informed him with great confidence that he preferred kind women, intelligent women, and women with beautiful smiles and an appreciation for music. Very helpful. That description probably applied to every man currently breathing on the planet, which was more or less how horoscopes worked too… vague enough to feel personal, specific enough to mean absolutely nothing.
However, one paragraph boldly claimed he would probably fall in love with any girl capable of baking cookies.
"Where do they get this stuff?"
Despite himself, he smiled. Some articles were harmless. Funny even. It was all part of being famous.
He turned another page. Then another. The smile gradually disappeared.
The photograph caught his attention first.
A familiar, beautiful face. Someone he had once genuinely liked. Someone he hadn't spoken to in months.
For several seconds he simply stared at the article without reading it. Then his eyes slowly moved downward.
The interview began innocently enough, drifting through the usual questions about fame and Hollywood and relationships, the kind of surface-level conversation that filled magazines without really saying anything. Then came the section highlighted in bold, the one the editors had clearly decided was the reason anybody would pick up the issue in the first place.
Michael felt something sink inside his stomach as he continued reading. She described him as sweet, gentle, and kind.
Then she spoke about things that had never belonged to anyone except the two of them.
Private things.
Painfully private things.
She talked about how their relationship had never become physical. How he never seemed comfortable with intimacy. How he kept emotional distance even while trying desperately not to. How she often felt shut out.
Michael stared at the page long after he finished reading. The studio had become very quiet.
The article itself wasn't particularly cruel. That somehow made it worse. Because it wasn't a lie. Not entirely.
That was the part that hurt.
Not because people now knew, but because she had told them. Because something vulnerable had been handed over so casually to strangers who would never understand it.
His eyes drifted toward the dark studio window. Outside, Hayvenhurst remained peaceful. Inside, memories surfaced one after another despite his efforts to stop them.
Not just her, either. A singer before her, an actress before that, a socialite whose name he barely let himself think about anymore. Different women, different relationships, different circumstances, and yet somehow always arriving at the same ending no matter how convinced he had been that this time would be different.
Because Michael loved beautiful women. Had always loved them, loved the flirting and the laughter and that particular electricity that lived in the early days of something new, when everything still felt like possibility and nothing had gone wrong yet. The beginning was always the easy part. The beginning was always wonderful.
But eventually the moment came when somebody wanted more than charming conversations and stolen kisses and hopeful promises about the future.
They wanted access. Not to Michael Jackson. To Michael.
And every single time he found himself standing in front of an invisible wall he never seemed capable of climbing.
Trust was such a simple thing for other people. For him it felt almost impossible.
Years of childhood had taught him lessons he still carried everywhere whether he wanted to or not. Years spent working long before any child should have been working, years spent living under Joseph's temper and impossible expectations, years spent learning that mistakes carried consequences and vulnerability rarely felt safe. Some lessons faded with time. Others buried themselves so deeply inside a person that they became part of how they saw the world.
Work came first. Always.
The stage came first. Always.
Success came first. Always.
Long before he understood what any of it meant.
And somewhere along the way he learned another lesson too.
People could love what you did, love what you gave them, love what you represented on a stage or a screen or a magazine cover. But trusting someone enough to hand them the ugliest and most fragile parts of yourself was an entirely different thing, and it had never felt harder than it did now, in the years after Thriller had turned him from a famous person into something closer to a symbol.
The bigger he became, the more impossible it grew to believe that anyone wanted him specifically, rather than everything that came attached to his name. And something always came attached to his name. Money, access, connections, fame, or simply a good story, a headline that would look nice above a photograph.
And every year it became more difficult to separate genuine affection from everything else.
And yet despite all of it, despite the articles and the disappointments and every relationship that had ended the same way, Michael never stopped trying. That was probably the most ridiculous part about him, if he was being honest with himself. He kept believing anyway, kept hoping, kept letting himself fall for beautiful smiles and kind voices and the particular brand of impossible possibility that arrived at the beginning of something new, long before reality had a chance to catch up.
Because somewhere beneath all the doubt, all the caution, and all the loneliness, he remained hopelessly convinced that eventually there had to be somebody out there worth trusting.
Somebody who wouldn't turn his vulnerabilities into a magazine article. Somebody who would keep them safe.
For a long moment he continued staring at the page. Then quietly closed the magazine.
The melodies he'd been so desperate to preserve earlier still lingered somewhere inside his head. But they suddenly felt much farther away than before.
–
"Cut!"
The sound of the director's voice immediately echoed across the set, followed by the familiar burst of activity that always seemed to accompany the end of a take.
Crew members moved around almost instantly. Lighting technicians adjusted equipment overhead, makeup artists appeared seemingly out of nowhere to fix minor imperfections the cameras would inevitably magnify, and production assistants hurried between different corners of the set carrying clipboards and cups of coffee as if the entire production might collapse without them.
Across from you, your co-star relaxed immediately as well, the charming smile he had worn moments earlier disappearing now that the scene was over. On-screen he played the perfect romantic lead, handsome, charismatic, endlessly devoted to the woman he loved. Off-screen he was pleasant enough, though after nearly three months of filming together, both of you had become very good at separating the romance from the work.
You stepped away from the set and made your way toward the monitors where the director already stood reviewing the footage.
"How was it?" you asked.
The director looked up briefly before offering an approving smile.
"Beautiful."
You waited. The silence stretched.
"Anything I should adjust?" you asked after a moment. "Maybe slower on the confession? I was trying to make her seem more hesitant this time."
The director barely glanced back at the monitor.
"No, no. It looked great."
Again, you waited. Nothing.
No discussion about motivation. No discussion about emotional beats. No thoughts about whether the character's grief, hope, fear, or vulnerability had translated properly.
Only "It looked great."
You nodded politely anyway.
Years in Hollywood had taught you how to recognize the difference between real feedback and compliments disguised as feedback. This was the second category.
The director pointed toward the monitor. "The lighting really catches your eyes in this scene."
You forced a smile. "Thanks."
"And that close-up is fantastic."
Another smile. Another thank you.
Neither comment had anything to do with your performance.
Before you could stop yourself, you decided to try one more thing.
"Actually, I wanted to ask you something."
The director looked up. You shifted your weight slightly.
"I heard Robert Hastings is casting his new drama next year."
His eyebrows lifted slightly in recognition. Robert Hastings. One of the most respected dramatic directors working in Hollywood.
The kind of director whose films won awards. The kind of director whose actors received Oscar nominations. The kind of director you dreamed about working with.
"I've been following the project for months," you continued. "If you happen to speak to him, I'd really appreciate an introduction. I'd love the chance to audition."
For a brief second, the director simply looked at you. Then he smiled.
Not dismissively. Worse. Patronizingly.
"Oh, sweetheart."
You hated that word immediately.
"That's a pretty heavy project."
You felt something inside your chest sink slightly. "I know."
"It's not really your type of film."
Your smile remained perfectly professional. "That's exactly why I'd like to audition."
The director chuckled softly as though you'd made an adorable joke. "Trust me. You're doing just fine where you are."
Before you could respond, another voice interrupted. Your co-star had approached the monitors. The director's entire attention shifted immediately.
"There he is!"
The difference was almost comical.
One second you barely existed. The next, the director was enthusiastically discussing performance choices.
"That scene was excellent," he said, pointing toward the monitor. "The hesitation before the kiss? That's exactly what I was looking for."
Your co-star nodded. "I thought maybe less confidence would make him more believable."
"Absolutely."
The director leaned forward. "And your emotional timing was fantastic."
For several moments they continued discussing acting. Actual acting. Character motivation. Subtext. Performance choices.
The exact conversation you had hoped to have only minutes earlier. Nobody invited you back into it.
Eventually you excused yourself quietly. Neither man seemed to notice.
The walk back to your trailer felt much longer than it actually was. Outside, the afternoon sun had begun settling lower across the lot, bathing everything in warm gold light that probably looked beautiful on camera. Somewhere nearby another production was filming entirely different scenes while extras wandered between soundstages carrying costumes and coffees.
Hollywood. The city of dreams. Or at least that was what everybody liked to call it.
You climbed the small steps leading into your trailer and closed the door behind you.
The silence arrived instantly.
For several moments you simply stood there. Then you reached for the cigarette pack sitting beside your script.
A few minutes later, smoke drifted slowly through the small open window while you sat in the chair near the vanity mirror.
You stared out toward the lot, toward the endless machinery of an industry that had given you everything you were supposed to want. Success, money, recognition, magazine covers, sold-out theaters, fans who waited outside premieres for hours just to catch a glimpse of you as you walked past.
The public adored you, journalists had collectively decided to call you America's Sweetheart, and studios fought over your availability with an enthusiasm that would have felt flattering if it hadn't come bundled with so many assumptions about what you were and weren't capable of.
Every romantic film you touched seemed destined to become a success.
And yet. The frustration remained.
Because every time you thought you were finally moving forward, somebody reminded you exactly where they believed you belonged.
Nobody seemed interested in what existed beyond that image, or in whether you were capable of carrying something heavier, something uglier, something that didn't resolve itself neatly in the final twenty minutes.
You wanted characters that hurt, that failed, that left audiences genuinely changed rather than simply satisfied. You wanted to make films that stayed with people long after they left the theater, that made them think and feel and question things they had never thought to question before. You wanted to create something that actually mattered, and the gap between that want and where you currently stood felt wider every time somebody complimented your close-ups instead of your performance.
And maybe, someday, you wanted to stand on a stage holding a golden statue in your hands knowing you had earned it through more than simply looking good beneath flattering lighting.
The cigarette burned slowly between your fingers.
Outside, somebody called for another setup.
You exhaled a long stream of smoke before crushing the cigarette into the ashtray beside you.
How the hell were you ever supposed to break out of this?
The question followed you as you leaned your head back against the chair until you were staring at the trailer ceiling.
With a long, dramatic sigh, you closed your eyes.
And for a moment, allowed yourself to imagine a different future entirely.
–
November 1985
The charity gala occupied one of the larger ballrooms of a luxury hotel in downtown Los Angeles, and by the time Michael arrived that evening, the event was already well underway.
Round tables filled most of the room beneath enormous crystal chandeliers, while waiters moved carefully between guests carrying trays of drinks and appetizers. The stage at the front displayed photographs of children benefiting from the foundation's programs, and although the atmosphere remained elegant enough to satisfy Hollywood's obsession with appearances, there was a sincerity to the event that Michael appreciated. Unlike many industry functions, people actually seemed interested in the cause itself rather than simply being photographed attending it.
Michael paused briefly near the entrance while security remained at a respectful distance behind him, taking in the room automatically the way he always did whenever he entered crowded spaces.
Actors, musicians, producers, directors, studio executives, politicians, and various socialites filled the ballroom. Most faces were familiar to some degree, either from previous events or from simply existing within the same industry long enough that everybody eventually learned everybody else's names.
His attention drifted lazily across the room until it landed on you.
He recognized you immediately.
Not because he knew you personally, but because avoiding your face in Hollywood had become nearly impossible over the past several years.
Your latest movie posters had been plastered across billboards for months. Entertainment magazines seemed determined to place you on every cover available, and nearly every interviewer in America appeared eager to ask whether the country's most beloved romantic leading lady had finally found herself a boyfriend.
You looked different in person than you did in photographs. Not drastically different. Just more real.
You stood near one of the larger tables speaking with an older woman involved with the charity, dressed in an elegant evening gown that somehow managed to appear glamorous without feeling excessive. The fabric caught the light subtly whenever you moved, while the simple jewelry you wore seemed chosen to complement the dress rather than compete with it. Your smile came easily during the conversation, though Michael noticed you spent considerably more time listening than speaking.
A photographer approached briefly. You allowed a few pictures, then immediately redirected your attention back toward the charity representative as though the cameras had never appeared at all.
Michael found himself watching for another moment before somebody called his name from across the room.
The evening progressed naturally after that. Speeches, introductions, conversations.
More photographs than any human being should reasonably have to endure.
At some point, guests began making donations to the foundation publicly, each contribution announced by the event organizers before being added to the total displayed on a large board near the stage.
Michael contributed without much thought. Charity had always been one of the few things fame allowed him to do that genuinely felt worthwhile, and helping children remained especially close to his heart.
The audience applauded politely after his donation was announced. Several contributions followed afterward. Then your name appeared.
Michael's attention lifted automatically. The amount that followed surprised him.
Not because it rivaled what some of the wealthiest people in the room could give, but because it was substantial enough to make several heads turn in genuine surprise.
A ripple of impressed murmurs spread through parts of the ballroom. Michael glanced toward you instinctively.
You looked mildly embarrassed by the attention. The organizer thanked you publicly. You smiled politely.
Then immediately lowered your gaze toward the table as though hoping the spotlight would move somewhere else.
For some reason, that detail stayed with him.
Later in the evening, seating arrangements eventually placed both of you near one another. Not directly beside each other, but close enough that conversation became inevitable.
The opportunity arrived while guests waited for dinner to be served.
Michael turned slightly toward you. "That was a very generous donation."
You looked up from your glass. For a brief moment your expression seemed surprised that he had spoken.
Then you smiled politely. "Thank you."
Your voice was warm. Pleasant. Exactly what he expected.
"I mean it," Michael continued. "A lot of people come to these things for publicity. That seemed genuine."
The smile softened slightly. "That's nice of you to say."
Michael waited. Something about the interaction felt strangely incomplete. Most conversations tended to flow naturally after introductions.
Especially with women.
Instead, you simply looked at him expectantly, as though waiting to see whether he had anything else to add.
He smiled. "You know, I think you've probably helped raise the average attractiveness of this entire fundraiser by yourself."
The compliment came easily. Playfully. The kind of thing that usually earned laughter. Or at least amusement.
You did laugh softly. A polite laugh. Then nodded. "That's very kind."
And that was it. No flirting. No lingering smile. No attempt to continue the exchange.
Michael blinked. For the first time all evening, he found himself oddly unsure what to do next. Meanwhile, you seemed completely oblivious.
"You've always been incredibly generous too," you said. "The amount of work you do for charities is honestly inspiring."
The sincerity sounded genuine. So genuine, in fact, that Michael couldn't even tell whether you had noticed his flirtation at all.
"Thank you."
You nodded.
Then your attention shifted briefly toward the stage where another speaker had begun discussing one of the foundation's programs.
And that, apparently, was that. Michael sat back in his chair as the interaction replayed itself in his head, not because it had gone badly, because it hadn't, you had been perfectly pleasant and respectful and polite, but because despite all of that he had somehow come away feeling vaguely dismissed.
The realization annoyed him immediately.
What exactly had he expected? The thought surfaced before he could stop it.
Just because your fame worldwide rivals Jesus doesn't mean every beautiful woman has to be interested in you.
The internal reprimand arrived swiftly enough that he almost smiled at himself. You hadn't done anything wrong. If anything, you had probably handled the interaction better than most people would have.
Still, as the evening continued, he found his eyes drifting toward you every now and then.
Not because of your appearance. Not entirely.
Because he couldn't quite figure you out. Most people in Hollywood wanted something.
Attention, connections, recognition.
You seemed strangely uninterested in all of it. And somehow that left him with the faint impression that you were either refreshingly genuine or impossibly arrogant.
By the end of the evening, he still hadn't decided which one.
–
The remainder of 1985 passed in a blur of events neither of you particularly wanted to attend.
Award ceremonies melted into charity dinners, charity dinners became Christmas fundraisers, and Christmas fundraisers transformed into industry galas where the same familiar faces circulated endlessly through the same conversations beneath different chandeliers.
For Michael, it was simply another part of fame.
For you, it was part of the image your agency worked tirelessly to maintain.
America's Sweetheart.
The phrase followed you everywhere now.
It appeared in magazines, interviews, television segments, and newspaper articles often enough that you had grown tired of hearing it.
So America's Sweetheart kept showing up wherever she was told to go.
Which was why over the following months, you and Michael found yourselves crossing paths more often than either of you expected.
Not enough to become friends or to truly know one another. Just enough to become familiar.
A polite greeting here. A brief conversation there.
Occasional smiles exchanged across crowded rooms before both of you inevitably became distracted by other people demanding your attention.
And despite Michael's initial impression of you, he slowly began noticing things.
Not dramatic things. Just… small things. The kind of details most people overlooked.
One evening in December, both of you found yourselves standing in a loose circle of celebrities and executives near the bar during another fundraising gala.
The conversation had been painfully shallow from the beginning. A wealthy producer Michael already disliked was holding court as usual, speaking loudly enough to ensure everyone nearby heard him.
The man had money. An absurd amount of it. And unfortunately, Hollywood tended to mistake wealth for wisdom.
"I watched one of your movies last week," the producer told you with an exaggerated grin.
You smiled politely. "Oh?"
"Couldn't tell you which one." Several people laughed. Michael did not.
The producer continued anyway. "They're all kinda the same, aren't they?"
You remained perfectly composed. "I suppose they might seem that way if somebody isn't paying attention."
More laughter followed. The producer laughed too despite clearly missing the implication entirely.
Michael hid a smile behind his glass. The man thought you'd agreed with him. You absolutely had not.
"You know what's funny?" the producer continued. "Most actresses spend years learning how to act. You were lucky enough to skip that step."
A few uncomfortable laughs followed. You took a slow sip of your champagne.
"Yes," you said pleasantly. "I've noticed people often mistake good fortune for work they didn't witness."
The producer blinked. Then laughed loudly. "See? That's what I like about you! Great sense of humor."
Across the circle, Michael felt the corner of his mouth twitch. The man had managed to miss the point entirely.
You simply smiled and took another sip from your champagne. The conversation moved on. But Michael found himself watching you for a moment longer.
The frustration had been there. He'd seen it, albeit briefly. It was gone almost immediately.
And for the first time, he wondered whether your problem wasn't that people failed to appreciate your movies. Maybe your problem was that people failed to appreciate you.
The realization lingered quietly in the back of his mind long after the conversation moved elsewhere.
Unfortunately, the evening wasn't finished humiliating people. A little later, the same producer somehow redirected the conversation toward Michael.
"I saw another one of those articles recently."
Michael already knew where this was going. His jaw tightened automatically. The producer either didn't notice or didn't care.
"Women keep saying the weirdest things about you."
Several people shifted uncomfortably. Michael remained silent.
"You'd think people would keep some things private." The producer laughed, then added, "Although if enough women are saying the same thing–"
He didn't finish the sentence. He didn't need to. The implication hung heavily in the air anyway.
Michael felt irritation flare immediately, not because of the rumor itself but because of the casual cruelty behind it, the way people treated his personal life like entertainment, like a puzzle they had somehow earned the right to solve simply by being interested about it.
Before he could formulate a response, however, your voice entered the conversation calmly. "I always thought private relationships should remain private."
The producer looked at you. You shrugged lightly.
"Whether the stories are true or not."
The producer scoffed. "That's just curiosity."
"No," you said pleasantly. "Curiosity is wondering what somebody had for breakfast. This is strangers discussing a person's intimate life at a cocktail party."
The producer laughed awkwardly into the silence that followed, and when nobody joined him the subject died quietly and without ceremony. Michael never thanked you, and you never looked at him afterward, the whole exchange lasting less than thirty seconds from start to finish.
And yet somehow he remembered it long after the evening was over.
–
A week later, everything changed.
The article appeared on a Tuesday morning. By lunchtime, half the country seemed to be discussing it.
IS MICHAEL JACKSON HIDING A SECRET?
Michael stared at the magazine for so long that the words eventually blurred together.
The article itself wasn't particularly intelligent. It recycled the same previously made observations repeatedly. His high pitched voice, his mannerisms, his “flamboyant” clothing, his friendships. His ex-girlfriend's claims.
Each point carefully assembled into a conclusion somebody else had decided for him.
Michael read the article twice. Then a third time. Not because he enjoyed torturing himself. Because some stubborn part of him kept hoping the words might somehow change.
They didn't.
For several days afterward he largely disappeared, retreating into Hayvenhurst and the studio and himself, letting phone calls ring out unanswered and turning away visitors without much explanation or apology.
Work continued because work always continued, but the enthusiasm usually accompanying it had dulled considerably.
What hurt most wasn't the accusation itself. There was nothing wrong with being gay.
Michael knew that. Had always known that. Some of the kindest people he'd ever met were gay. Some of the most talented too.
That wasn't the issue. The issue was that once again, complete strangers had decided who he was. And somehow the entire world seemed eager to believe them.
The realization settled heavily inside him. If people could rewrite something as fundamental as his identity so easily, what chance did any truth actually have?
By the time New Year's Eve arrived, Michael wanted absolutely nothing to do with another gala.
Unfortunately, his manager disagreed. "You need to be seen."
Michael sighed. "I don't feel like being seen."
"That's exactly why you need to go."
The conversation continued for nearly twenty minutes before Michael finally surrendered. So a few hours later, he found himself attending yet another event.
At first the difference seemed subtle, something he might have imagined if he hadn't known better, but it became impossible to ignore as the evening wore on. People still greeted him and smiled and shook his hand, but something underneath all of that had shifted, some fundamental ease and comfort and familiarity that had simply stopped being there.
Conversations ended suspiciously quickly when he approached, others never started at all, and people who would ordinarily have sought him out suddenly found themselves very occupied on the other side of the room.
Michael quietly noticed everything and honestly, part of him felt relieved. The attention had always been exhausting.
But another part felt something much uglier… Anger.
Because all it took was one article. One headline. One made-up rumor.
And suddenly people behaved differently. Not because they knew anything. Because they thought they knew something.
The hypocrisy left a bitter taste in his mouth.
By the time he escaped toward one of the quieter corners of the ballroom, his patience had nearly disappeared entirely. Which was why he didn't immediately notice you approaching.
"Hi."
Michael looked up. You stood a few feet away holding a glass of champagne. The same elegant confidence you carried at every event remained intact, though tonight there was something else beneath it.
Concern. Genuine concern.
"Hi."
For a second, neither of you spoke. Then you glanced briefly toward the crowd before looking back at him.
"I wasn't sure whether I should say anything."
Michael immediately knew what you meant. You shifted your weight slightly.
"It's none of my business."
He appreciated that sentence more than he could adequately explain.
You continued. "But I wanted to tell you I felt horrible reading that article."
The ballroom noise seemed to fade slightly. Michael simply stared at you. You weren't performing. Weren't fishing for information. Weren't asking questions.
You just looked upset on his behalf.
"I know we don't really know each other," you said carefully, "and your private life is your private life. But I don't think articles like that should exist regardless of whether they're true, false, or somewhere in between."
Michael remained silent. You lowered your voice slightly. "Nobody should have their personal life dissected for entertainment."
For the first time in over a week, he felt some of the tension leave his shoulders. Not much. Just enough.
"Thank you."
The words came quieter than intended. You smiled gently. "You're welcome."
Neither of you spoke for a moment afterward. Then you glanced toward another group gathering nearby.
"I should probably go save my agent from having to make small talk alone."
That earned the faintest smile from Michael.
Before leaving, however, you hesitated. "If you ever want to talk to somebody who's not a reporter, or journalist, I'd be happy to listen."
The offer hung briefly between you. Simple and uncomplicated.
You didn't wait for an answer. Instead, you gave him one last polite smile before turning and disappearing back into the crowd.
Michael watched you go. For several seconds afterward, he remained exactly where he was, thinking.
The way you'd defended him without making a spectacle out of it. The way you'd approached him tonight when most people seemed determined to avoid him.
Maybe he'd been wrong. Maybe you weren't arrogant at all.
The thought settled quietly inside him as he watched you disappear into another conversation across the ballroom.
For the first time since reading the article, Michael found himself smiling. Only slightly, but genuinely.
to the girls who be holding it down with the michael jackson x black reader fics, i just want to say THANK YOU LADIES !!! y'all be chewing the fuck out of these stories
𓏲 ࣪ ˖ tags : destinyera!michael, story is set in studio 54, a lot of dirty dancing, little make out at the end, michael is shy, steamy tension
𓏲 ࣪ ˖ a/n : little fic while i’m working on my exam, got definitely inspired by rihanna’s song
ᝰ.ᐟ꩜ in which a supposed groovie night turned into a dirty dancing session with the hottest girl in the club.
the neon lights of studio 54 buzzed with a wild, electric energy as the heavy doors swung open. michael stepped inside, a bright, dazzling smile instantly spreading across his face. he was young, full of life, and absolutely vibrant, practically radiating a playful charm that caught everyone's attention the moment he arrived. this place was his absolute favorite sanctuary, a dazzling playground of music, laughter, and pure freedom.
as the pulsating disco beat washed over him, he threw his head back and laughed, his curls bouncing as he immediately started to move his feet to the rhythm. the air was thick with the scent of expensive perfume, glitter, and excitement. looking around the crowded, glittering dance floor, michael felt a familiar rush of pure joy—tonight was going to be another unforgettable night where he could just lose himself in the music.
the dance floor was a wild, swirling sea of color and motion, beneath a massive disco ball that scattered thousands of glittering lights across the room like stars. velvet ropes, silver confetti dropping from the ceiling, and flashing strobe lights painted everyone in bright shades of purple, gold, and blue. absolutely everybody was moving—there wasn't a single soul standing still. people were laughing, spinning, and completely losing themselves to the heavy, infectious bassline that echoed through the walls.
right in the heart of the crowd, michael was having the absolute time of his life, completely in his element alongside his brothers. they formed a tight, energetic circle, hyping each other up with every single beat. marlon was pulling off slick footwork, making jackie and tito laugh, while michael bounced on the balls of his feet, his energy completely infectious. he and jermaine exchanged a knowing look and started doing a synchronized routine right there on the glowing floor, their smiles huge and carefree. surrounded by his brothers and the best music in the world, michael felt completely unstoppable, dancing like the night would last forever.
meanwhile, all the way on the other side of the crowded club, a vibrant burst of energy was taking over the floor. a girl was standing there, completely lost in the music, starting to catch her own vibe as the rhythm took hold of her. she danced with a natural, effortless grace, but it was her pure, sparkling energy that truly made her stand out. she was incredibly bubbly and radiant, her movements filled with a playful, infectious joy that you just couldn't look away from.
very quickly, the small group of friends around her couldn't help but catch her vibe. they formed an excited circle around her, cheering her on and matching her bright, lively energy beat for beat. every time she laughed or pulled off a smooth, carefree move, her friends would hype her up even more, laughing and dancing right along with her. she was completely commanding her own little corner of studio 54, turning it into a beautiful, glowing center of fun that perfectly mirrored the electric magic happening across the room.
before long, it wasn't just her friends watching anymore. more and more people from across the club began to turn their heads, completely drawn in by the magnetic warmth radiating from her corner. there was something deeply mesmerizing and enchanting about the way she moved—a perfect blend of effortless charm and pure, raw joy that felt almost hypnotic to look at.
one by one, strangers began to drift over, unable to resist the pull of her vibrant energy. the tight circle of friends quickly expanded into a massive, lively crowd of people all trying to get a closer look and join in on the fun. the space around her grew packed as everyone started dancing with her, completely caught up in her spell. she was the undeniable center of attention now, lighting up that side of studio 54 with a captivating brilliance that was impossible to ignore.
suddenly, she stepped right up onto a central table right in the middle of the room, rising above the crowd like she owned the entire place. in an instant, she began to dance like a total queen, completely commanding the room from her new stage. a hush of awe seemed to ripple through the club as hundreds of eyes locked onto her, completely captivated.
her movements were absolutely breathtaking, striking a perfect, effortless balance between wild extravagance and high-class elegance. she would drop low with a dramatic, theatrical flair, her hips swaying perfectly to the rhythm, and then snap back up with the fluid grace of a runway model. every spin was sharp and confident, yet her arms drifted through the air with soft, mesmerizing beauty. she was vibing completely to the infectious bounce of the boogie, catching every single pop of the bass and accentuating it with a playful flip of her hair or a dazzling smile.
just across the room, the sudden shift in the crowd's attention caught the eye of the jacksons. marlon paused mid-step, his eyes widening as he spotted the girl shining like a star on top of the table. nudging the brother next to him, he pointed toward the center of the club and literally asked, "who is that girl?"
hearing marlon's question, michael spun around, his eyes instantly tracking his brother's gaze toward the center of the club. the second his eyes landed on her, he froze, completely captivated and utterly breathless. he was totally spellbound by what he was seeing.
first of all, she was absolutely stunning—radiant, gorgeous, and glowing under the flashing lights like a dream. but the way she moved was what completely stole his heart. she danced with an incredible, unparalleled rhythm that michael, of all people, could truly appreciate. every beat she hit, every effortless glide across that table, and every sharp, elegant snap of her body was pure perfection. he stood there completely mesmerized, his jaw slightly dropped and a soft, amazed smile creeping onto his lips as he couldn't take his eyes off her for even a single second.
"man, she is absolutely tearing it up," jermaine said, shaking his head in disbelief as he watched her move. "she’s got some serious rhythm. look at how she hits that bounce."
tito leaned in, nodding along to the music while keeping his eyes locked on the center table. "yeah, she's totally owning the whole room. you don't see anyone command a crowd like that every day, especially not in here. she's got style."
"she's incredible!" marlon laughed, already shifting his feet as if he wanted to go over and battle her on the dance floor. "she’s got the extravagance, but she makes it look so elegant. who even is she? i've never seen her around here before."
jackie just smiled, glancing over at michael who was still standing completely frozen. nudging michael's shoulder playfully, jackie teased, "hey, mike, look at you, you're staring a hole right through her. can't say i blame you, though. she's beautiful."
just as the bass dropped again, she turned her head and her eyes locked right onto michael's. she didn't look away either; she kept her eyes fixed straight on him, flashing a playful, knowing smile while she continued to dance like a total queen.
beside him, his brothers didn't miss a single thing. jermaine burst out laughing, instantly nudging michael in the ribs. "oh, look at that! mike, she’s looking right at you, man!"
"man, she's completely picking you out of the crowd!" marlon hyped up, laughing and pulling michael by the jacket sleeve. "what are you doing just standing there? go over there! go show her what you got!"
"yeah, mike, don't let her intimidate you," jackie teased, a huge grin on his face as he pushed michael forward a little bit. "go talk to her before someone else does!"
but michael was completely rooted to the spot, his cheeks burning a deep crimson under the flashing club lights. even though he was a superstar on stage, right now, under her mesmerizing gaze, he felt incredibly shy and super intimidated by her. she was just so beautiful and confident, moving so flawlessly while staring right at him, that his heart was hammering against his chest and he completely forgot how to move his own feet.
right in the middle of a smooth, hypnotic spin, she locked her eyes back onto his and slowly raised one hand, giving him a playful little finger wave, teasingly telling him to come over. all the while, her movements grew even more hyper-extravagant and deeply sensual, her hips dropping perfectly to the heavy thumping bass as she completely captured the energy of the room.
his brothers absolutely went wild when they saw that. "oh, it is on! mike, she literally just called you out!" marlon shouted over the music, practically shoving him forward.
"man, you cannot back down now!" jermaine yelled, a massive grin on his face. "go dance with her! go show her who the real king of the floor is!"
hearing his brothers chanting around him and seeing her dazzling smile waiting for him, michael finally took a deep breath. he gathered every single ounce of his courage, shaking off his shyness in an instant. with a sudden burst of adrenaline, he literally broke into a run, rushing straight toward the center of the club, ready to join her under the glittering lights.
with one swift, agile motion, michael leaped right up onto the table, landing perfectly on his feet right in front of her. the entire crowd inside studio 54 completely erupted, cheers and screams echoing through the air as everyone rushed closer to watch the two of them. the energy in the club instantly hit a whole new level, the atmosphere absolutely buzzing as everyone started to hype them up.
the chemistry between them was instant and totally undeniable. it felt like they had been dancing together for years; they caught the exact same rhythm effortlessly, moving in perfect, flawless synchronization to the heavy boogie beat. yet, even while hitting every sharp pop and smooth glide, she kept that same playful, mesmerizing little look fixed right on him, her eyes dancing with mischief and confidence. michael was completely helpless against it, totally and utterly subjugated by her breathtaking beauty up close. looking into her eyes, he felt like the luckiest guy in the room, completely lost in her spell as they dominated the dance floor together.
leaning in close so he could hear her over the roaring music, she flashed a dazzling, wicked little grin and whispered teasingly, "can you handle this?"
before he could even answer, she broke into an even more hyper-extravagant routine, completely turning up the heat. her movements became incredibly sharp, bold, and theatrical, dropping low with a dramatic flair before spinning back up with absolute, flawless precision. she was playing with the rhythm now, accentuating every heavy thud of the bass with a playful toss of her hair and a confident sway of her hips that had the entire crowd screaming in excitement. she was completely letting loose, pushing the energy in the room to its absolute limit just to see if michael could keep up with her.
a confident, playful grin broke across michael's face as he felt an instant rush of adrenaline. the initial shyness completely evaporated, replaced by a massive boost of pure excitement. looking straight into her eyes, he leaned in and shouted back over the bass, "oh, you have no idea!"
with his confidence soaring, he stepped right into her space, beginning to dance much closer to her than before. he matched her wild extravagance beat for beat, his movements becoming smoother, sharper, and incredibly focused on her. every time she dipped, he mirrored her glide, bringing them closer together until they were practically moving as one under the flashing lights. michael completely embraced the heat of the moment, using his own legendary rhythm to answer her challenge and showing her exactly why he belonged right there on that table next to her.
the chemistry between them grew even more intense, completely electric as it filled the air around the table. every single barrier between them seemed to melt away under the flashing disco lights, and they continued to dance, but closer now than they had been all night.
a thick, heavy tension began to settle between them, making the air feel completely charged. they were moving in such perfect harmony that they were almost glued together, their bodies practically touching with every single beat of the music. michael could feel the warmth radiating off her, and every time they spun or swayed to the heavy bass, their skin brushed, sending a rush of adrenaline straight through him. they were completely locked into each other's gaze, dancing so close that the rest of the crowded club completely faded into the background, leaving just the two of them moving as one in their own private world.
suddenly, she spun around, her back facing him as she pressed her hips directly against his, moving perfectly to the slow, heavy groove of the bass. with a smooth, confident motion, she reached back and rested one hand gently on the back of his neck, her touch warm and electrifying.
caught up in the absolute heat of the moment, michael didn't hesitate for a single second. reacting purely on instinct, he slid his hands firmly onto her narrow hips, his grip steady and confident as he pulled her even closer, locking her body tightly against his. a sudden, heavy wave of sexual tension snapped into place between them, thick and impossible to ignore. under the flashing lights of the club, their breathing grew shallow, and every micro-movement of their bodies felt completely charged, turning their playful dance battle into something incredibly intense, raw, and deeply magnetic.
the music slammed into them the second they hit the floor, a heavy, driving bassline that seemed to pulse right through the soles of their shoes. caught up in the absolute heat of the moment, michael didn't hesitate for a single second. reacting purely on instinct, he slid his hands firmly onto her narrow hips, his grip steady and confident as he pulled her even closer, locking her body tightly against his. a sudden, heavy wave of sexual tension snapped into place between them, thick and impossible to ignore. under the flashing lights of the club, their breathing grew shallow, and every micro-movement of their bodies felt completely charged, turning their playful dance battle into something incredibly intense, raw, and deeply magnetic.
it became an absolute blur of friction and heat, a dangerous game of dirty dancing where neither of them wanted to back down. she arched her back, grinding her hips slow and deliberate against his thighs, matching the heavy thud of the speakers. michael let out a low, ragged breath, his grip tightening on her waist as he moved right with her, his front completely flushed against her back, leaving absolutely zero space between them. every single twist of her hips rubbed heavily against him, sending a wild, intoxicating rush straight to his head.
the sheer friction of their bodies sliding together under the strobe lights was dizzying. she spun around to face him, wrapping one leg slightly around his hip as they rolled their bodies together in perfect, sultry sync, their chests rubbing flat against each other with every single beat. it was thick, sweaty, and completely uninhibited. he could feel the damp warmth of her skin, the frantic beat of her pulse, and the way her clothes dragged against his with every sharp, heavy tilt of their pelvises. they were completely locked into each other, moving so close and so dirty that the rest of the crowded club completely melted away into nothing but pure, unadulterated heat.
down on the club floor, his brothers were watching the whole thing play out with wide eyes and their jaws practically hitting the ground, completely and comically shocked. they stood there frozen, totally stunned because they had literally never seen their brother move like this before.
marlon’s mouth dropped so wide a piece of confetti could have fallen right in, his hands slapping the sides of his head in disbelief. "yo, are you seeing this?!" he yelled over the music, shaking jackie's shoulder violently. "is that actually michael up there?! our little brother?!"
jermaine let out a dramatic, high-pitched gasp, pointing at the table while bursting into a frantic, nervous laugh. "man, i didn't even know he had those types of moves in him! he is completely losing it!"
tito just stood there with his hands on his hips, his eyes bulging as he shook his head in absolute comedy. "he completely forgot about being shy, man. she totally broke him!" the brothers were practically tripping over each other in sheer amazement, absolutely losing their minds at how comically fast michael had gone from a blushing, nervous mess to completely owning the hottest girl in the room.
leaning down slightly so her lips were brushing against his ear, she let out a soft, breathless laugh and asked teasingly over the booming bass, "so, what's your name, stranger?"
michael didn't miss a single beat, his hips still locked into the rhythm with hers. with his initial shyness completely thrown out the window, a playful smirk spread across his face. he leaned in close, his voice smooth and confident as he answered right back, "i'm michael."
the moment the words left his mouth, he didn't care about the hundreds of eyes on him, and he completely forgot that he was usually the shyest guy in any room. he was just completely consumed by her presence. they kept dancing, moving seamlessly together in their own little bubble, his hands resting firmly on her waist as he completely embraced this new, bold side of himself, absolutely loving every single second of it.
"michael..." she repeated slowly, letting out a soft, teasing little chuckle that vibrated right against his chest.
michael absolutely loved the sound of it, a thrill running straight down his spine as a wide, confident grin broke across his face. hearing his name roll off her lips like that just made him want to hold on tighter.
answering his silent thoughts, she shifted again, pressing her hips even closer and grinding perfectly into his rhythm until there was absolutely no space left between them. she tilted her head back, locking her gaze onto the dj booth towering over the crowd, and shouted out with a bright, ecstatic laugh, "please don't stop the music!"
michael's eyes darkened with pure excitement as he gripped her hips a little tighter, catching her vibe perfectly. looking at the wild smile on her face and feeling the electric heat radiating between their bodies, he knew right then and there that this night was absolutely nowhere near over.
she spun around to face him completely, her eyes locking onto his with an intense, burning playful energy. holding his gaze, she slowly began to drop low, dancing her way down to the heavy, pulsing rhythm of the bass with absolute, breathtaking grace.
as she glided down, she reached out, running her warm hands smoothly up and down the length of michael's body. her fingertips traced up his legs, over his torso, and lightly brushed against his chest, leaving a trail of absolute fire in their wake.
michael stood there completely paralyzed, his breath hitching sharply in his throat. he was utterly and completely flabbergasted by what she was doing. his heart hammered wildly against his ribs as he stared down at her, totally mesmerized by the sheer confidence and raw, beautiful power radiating from her every movement. it felt like the entire world had stopped spinning, leaving him entirely under her spell as she completely dominated his senses.
slowly, she rose back up to her full height, her eyes never leaving his for even a fraction of a second. the moment she was completely upright again, she closed the tiny gap between them, her chest lightly pressing against his as she caught the rhythm once more without missing a single beat.
michael finally let out the breath he had been holding, a wide, thrilled smile taking over his face. he didn't waste another moment. he mirrored her closeness, letting his own body sway perfectly into hers as they locked into a seamless groove, completely driving the crowd below them into an absolute frenzy.
down on the main floor, his brothers were practically losing their minds. marlon was covering his eyes jokingly before peeking through his fingers, while tito and jackie were high-fiving, completely hyped up by how bold their usually quiet brother was being. but up on that central table, under the dazzling, spinning lights of studio 54, the rest of the world simply didn't exist anymore. there was only the heavy thumping disco bass, the electric heat skin-to-skin, and the beautiful girl who had completely changed his night.
she slid both of her hands up his chest and wrapped them gently around his neck, anchoring herself to him while they kept moving perfectly to the heavy, pulsing disco beat. she stayed pressed completely against him, her body moving in total sync with his under the flashing neon lights. looking straight into his eyes with a playful, teasing glint, she smiled softly and murmured, "did you get shy again, pretty boy?"
michael's heart skipped a beat, the sudden nickname sending a massive rush of heat straight to his face. up close, with her looking at him like that and her hands warm against his skin, he completely choked up. his throat went totally dry, and he opened his mouth to give a smooth reply, but nothing came out except a quiet, breathless stutter. he was struggling so hard to find his words, completely trapped in her gaze and utterly flustered by how confident and close she was.
she let out another soft, breathless little chuckle right against his chest, clearly enjoying how completely flustered she had him. leaning in even closer, she slid her lips right up to his ear, her warm breath sending a wild shiver straight down his spine as she whispered, "do you want to go somewhere a little more private?"
michael’s brain instantly went into absolute overdrive. a wave of pure, comical panic hit him, his heart hammering so loud he was sure she could hear it over the club's bass. his mind raced with a million thoughts—what about my brothers? what if people see us leave?—and his face flushed an even deeper shade of crimson.
but looking down at her, completely captivated by her smile and the electric tension humming between them, he knew there was no way he was letting her go. swallowing hard, he shook off the panic just long enough to nod eagerly, a breathless but definitive, "yeah—yes, definitely," slipping out of his mouth before he could think twice.
without losing a single second, she slid her hand into his, her fingers locking tightly around his. with perfect agility, she hopped down from the table, pulling him right along with her.
she started running through the packed crowd as fast as she could, weaving between the dancing bodies without ever letting go of his grip. michael followed close behind, his heart hammering wildly against his ribs, almost dizzy from how fast everything was moving. behind them, the heavy bass, the blinding strobe lights, and the absolutely crazy energy of the main floor began to fade with every single step.
she guided him at full speed through a dimmer hallway, heading straight for the club's restrooms. in an instant, they left all the madness of the party behind them, slipping inside the private space as the heavy door shut out the roaring sound of the club.
inside the restroom, she gently pushed him back against the wall, completely closing the distance between them. before he could even catch his breath, she leaned in and began to kiss him languidly, her lips moving slowly and deeply against his.
at first, michael didn't really know what to do. his brain short-circuited because the sensation was incredibly intense and powerful, sending a massive shockwave straight through his body. but within a split second, instinct took over.
he instantly placed his hands firmly on her waist, his grip tightening as he anchored her to him. slowly but surely, the initial shock melted away, and he began to melt into the kiss, matching her slow, deep rhythm and completely losing himself in the heat of the moment.
keeping her lips locked completely against his in that same deep, slow kiss, she slowly slid her hands down from his neck, letting her palms trail smoothly over his chest. she began to caress him gently right through the fabric of his shirt, her touch warm and incredibly deliberate.
without breaking the intense rhythm of the kiss, she slid her hands up his chest, her fingers finding the very first button at the top of his shirt. with a slick, practiced movement, she slipped it open, her warm fingertips brushing directly against the bare skin of his collarbone. michael let out a sharp, ragged breath into her mouth at the sudden contact, but he didn't pull away—if anything, his grip on her waist only tightened.
she kept going, her hands moving down with a slow, agonizing deliberation. one by one, she popped the next few buttons open, pulling the fabric of his shirt apart to expose the smooth expanse of his chest. the cool air of the room hit his bare skin for only a fraction of a second before she pressed herself entirely flat against him, letting her open palms slide inside the shirt to caress his chest directly. the intense friction of her skin rubbing against his sent a massive jolt of electricity straight through his body, making him groan softly into the kiss as they completely melted into the heat between them.
the feeling of her fingers moving across his skin sent another massive jolt of electricity straight through him. michael let out a soft, muffled sigh into the kiss, his body relaxing completely under her touch as his grip on her waist tightened, pulling her even closer into his space while they completely lost themselves in the quiet intensity of the room.
slowly breaking the kiss just enough to breathe, she looked up at him with a dark, playful smirk, her eyes completely locked onto his. she smiled softly and murmured against his lips, "you're not as shy as you look after all, are you?"
before he could even attempt to find his words, she leaned back in and shifted her focus downward. she began to press soft, lingering kisses right along his jawline, moving slowly down until her lips met the warm skin of his neck.
the sudden sensation of her mouth against his neck made michael's entire body go completely rigid for a split second. a heavy rush of heat flooded his veins, and without even realizing it, a soft, involuntary moan slipped from his throat. his hands tightened on her waist, pulling her flush against him as he completely surrendered to the intense feeling.
the moment his soft moan echoed in the quiet space, she leaned in even heavier, using her lips and teeth to graze the sensitive skin just beneath his jawline. michael's breath hitched completely, his fingers digging deep into the fabric of her shirt at her waist as a fierce, electric shiver shot straight down his spine. the friction of her body pressed so entirely flat against his front was absolute torture; every tiny breath she took rubbed her chest directly against his, stoking a fire that was quickly burning out of control.
he completely lost his grip on reality as she kept dragging her lips lower, trailing hot, wet kisses down toward his collarbone while her hips subtly shifted, pressing her warmth right into him. a dark, heavy desperation took over, and michael tilted his head back completely against the wall, giving her total access to his throat while his hands slid down to grip the back of her thighs, pulling her up and locking her impossibly close into his heat.
even though he still had absolutely no idea what he was doing, he let his instincts guide him completely. slowly, his hands drifted down from her waist, sliding lower until they rested firmly on the small of her back, pressing her even closer into his body.
gaining a sudden burst of confidence from the feeling of her skin, michael leaned his head down and began to press soft, tentative kisses along her neck, matching the exact way she had been kissing him.
the moment his lips touched her neck, she let out a soft sigh, her head tilting back slightly to give him more room as she completely loved every single second of it. she tightened her grip around his shoulders, moving against him as they completely lost themselves in the quiet, intense heat of the bathroom.
the heat in the room completely shifted as the kisses grew deeper, turning into something raw and incredibly intense. michael didn't feel any of his usual hesitation anymore; he just leaned into her completely, his lips moving against hers with a sudden, burning passion that took them both by surprise.
they kept kissing, each one becoming hungrier and more urgent than the last, completely losing track of time and space. his hands on the small of her back pulled her so close there was absolutely no distance left between them, while her fingers tangled deeply into his hair, holding him right there as they completely surrendered to the wild rhythm of each other.
the air in the small room completely evaporated as the kiss turned utterly feral. they kept kissing, each one becoming hungrier and more urgent than the last, completely losing track of time and space. his hands on the small of her back pulled her so close there was absolutely no distance left between them, while her fingers tangled deeply into his hair, holding him right there as they completely surrendered to the wild rhythm of each other.
the restraint they had maintained earlier shattered entirely. michael dragged his hands down from her lower back, his fingers digging firmly into the curve of her hips to hitch her body upward, forcing her thighs flush against his. she let out a sharp, muffled gasp directly into his mouth, using the sudden friction to press her pelvis heavily against his, grinding into him with a slow, agonizingly deliberate heat that made his head completely spin. a thick, suffocating wave of pure desire crashed over them, locking them into a rhythm that was raw, desperate, and entirely uninhibited.
every single point of contact was burning. her hands tore out of his hair to grip his broad shoulders, her fingernails digging deep through his chest as she arched her spine, completely molding her chest against his. michael let out a low, dark groan deep in his throat, completely intoxicated by the intense friction of her body rubbing so heavily against his own. he pinned her even harder against the wall, his thigh slipping between hers as they moved together in a tight, sweaty, and dangerous blur of friction, completely consumed by the wild, dirty magnetism of the moment.
breaking the kiss for just a fraction of a second to catch his breath, he found himself talking more and more, the words spilling out of him with a rare, unfiltered confidence. he leaned in close, his voice a low, raspy murmur against her skin as he started telling her exactly how much she had captivated him out there on the floor.
"i've never seen anyone dance like you," he whispered breathlessly, his lips brushing against hers with every syllable. "i just loved how you moved... so completely free, like nobody else was even in the room. you didn't care about the crowd, you just didn't care about anyone else's eyes at all."
he let out a soft, amazed laugh at his own sudden boldness, completely mesmerized by her. before she could even answer, he plunged right back in, capturing her lips once again to continue kissing her even more passionately, his hands pressing into the small of her back as if to thank her for pulling him completely out of his shell.
she smiled deeply into the kiss, her lips brushing warm against his as she murmured back, "you know, you were the only guy in that whole place who actually had the nerve to get up on that table and dance with me."
michael let out a soft, genuine laugh against her mouth, the sound rich and completely relaxed. the idea that he was the bold one out of everyone at studio 54 completely amused him, especially considering how terrified he had been just a few minutes ago.
"i guess i did," he whispered playfully, a confident little grin forming on his lips before he leaned right back in, continuing to kiss her passionately without missing a single beat, completely intoxicated by the fact that she had chosen him out of the entire crowd.
he pulled back just a tiny bit, his eyes completely locking onto hers as a soft, completely genuine look took over his face. he ran his thumb gently across her cheekbone, his voice dropping into a low, breathless whisper as the words came out of him naturally.
"you are just so beautiful," he murmured, his eyes scanning every detail of her face under the dim lights. "completely radiant... i mean it, you're absolutely stunning."
he couldn't help the bright, admiring smile that broke across his lips as he said it, totally captivated by her. before she could even process the sweet compliment, he leaned right back down, continuing to kiss her softly, his touch even more tender than before.
she let out a soft, melodic little laugh, her cheeks flushing a bit under his intense, beautiful gaze. she tilted her head up slightly, her eyes crinkling with absolute affection as she wrapped her arms a little tighter around his shoulders.
"you are so incredibly cute, michael," she teased softly, her voice filled with warmth as she used his name for the very first time.
hearing her say that made a huge, proud smile break out across his face, his chest swelling with a sudden rush of pure happiness. he didn't even try to hide how flustered he was this time; he just laughed softly along with her, leaning right back down to press another sweet, passionate kiss against her lips.
he looked down straight into her eyes, his expression becoming a little more serious but incredibly sweet. a tiny, hopeful smile played on his lips as he mustered up the courage to ask, "do you think... we could ever do this again? like, have another dance session just like that together?"
she let out a soft, affectionate laugh at how endearing he was. without a word, she brought both of her hands up, gently cupping his face in her warm palms and tilting his head down just a fraction more. looking right into his big, soft eyes, she smiled and whispered, "you know... we could have way more than just dance sessions, michael."
she paused, her eyes dropping down to his exposed chest, where his shirt still hung completely open from her fingers earlier. a playful, wicked smirk spread across her lips as she smoothed her hands down his neck, letting her fingers trail over his bare skin one last time before she grabbed the edges of his collar.
"but first," she whispered against his lips, her voice dripping with a teasing, sultry warmth, "we're going to have to button you back up, handsome boy."
michael's cheeks flushed an instant, deep crimson at the nickname, a shy but completely charmed smile breaking across his face. he stood there completely captivated as she slowly began to slide the buttons back into place, her knuckles intentionally brushing against his chest with every single one, keeping the tension burning hot between them even as she put him back together.
michael's eyes widened slightly, a bright, happy laugh slipping from his throat. they both leaned in for a quick, tender little kiss, their lips meeting in a sweet, lingering touch before they instantly wrapped their arms around each other. they held each other close in a warm, tight hug, both of them giggling softly as they stood together in the quiet room, completely happy.
she bit her lip playfully, a wicked little laugh slipping out as she looked up at him through her lashes. "we could actually start right now and do another one if you want," she murmured mischievously.
before he could even process what she meant, she gripped his hand tightly and started pulling him right out of the restroom, heading straight back toward the roaring chaos of the club. michael laughed out loud, his heart racing with pure excitement as they burst back onto the crowded floor, ready to completely lose themselves in the music and each other all over again.
"i don’t do dirty dancing" why you lyin mike ??? 🤨🤨
Michael, after all these years of marriage can’t help himself when it comes to you. Some may say he’s devoted others say he’s obsessed, both parties are correct.
Pairing: 1980s Michael Jackson x Wife! Reader
Warnings: 18+ minors dni, established relationship, p in v, flashbacks, teasing, mike is down bad, cunnilingus, shower sex, public displays of affection.
Wc: 1000+2
The studio lights were blinding, and the roar of the live audience was a constant hum in the background. Michael sat in the plush velvet chair, looking every bit the superstar in a sharp blazer, but his eyes were glazed. You were sitting just off-stage, visible to him in the wings, wearing something that clung to every curve, watching him with a playful smirk.
The interviewer, a charismatic man with a mischievous glint in his eye, leaned in, sensing blood in the water. He knew exactly how obsessed Michael was with you.
"Now, Michael," the interviewer chuckled, glancing toward where you were standing. "We’ve all seen the way you look at your wife... I mean, it’s practically poetic. You’re absolutely down bad, aren't you? Just completely devoted to every whim she has."
Michael let out a soft, airy giggle, his cheeks flushing. "I... I just love her very much," he murmured, but as he looked at you, the sounds of the studio faded away.
"I can tell!" the interviewer laughed. "Tell us, what was it about her that first captured your heart? Was it her kindness? Her spirit?"
ᥫ᭡.ִֶָ𓂃⋆.𐙚 ̊
The world vanished. Suddenly, Michael wasn't in a chair; he was behind you in your bedroom, his hands gripping your hips with a strength that surprised you. He had you bent over the edge of the bed, your ass arched high in the air. He remembered the wet, slapping sound of his cock slamming into your pussy, the rhythmic thud of his pelvis hitting your cheeks. He could almost feel the way your walls clamped tight around him, and the way you screamed his name, your voice cracking as he drove himself deep into you, filling you completely.
"I... uh..." Michael blinked, staring blankly at the interviewer. "Her... her energy. It's just... captivating."
The audience chuckled at his hesitation. The interviewer grinned. "Captivating, huh? I bet. Now, be honest. Who really wears the pants in the relationship? Does she have you wrapped around her little finger?"
ᥫ᭡.ִֶָ𓂃⋆.𐙚 ̊
His mind snapped back to a rainy afternoon in the hotel. You had pushed him back onto the sofa, taking control. He remembered the sight of you straddling him, your pussy soaking wet as you lowered yourself onto his hard cock. He recalled the way your body withered and shook with pleasure, your back arching in a perfect curve as you rode him. He could still hear the squelching sound of your juices lubricating every thrust, the wet, sloppy noise of your clit rubbing against his pubic bone while you looked down at him with a dominant, hungry gaze.
Michael let out a shaky breath, a small, dazed smile on his lips. "She... she knows exactly what she wants. And I... I love giving it to her."
"A true gentleman!" the interviewer joked, gesturing to the crowd. "Now, for the fans, what's your favorite thing to do together on a quiet Sunday morning? Just some tea and reading?"
ᥫ᭡.ִֶָ𓂃⋆.𐙚 ̊
Tea? No. He remembered the taste of you. He remembered waking up and immediately sliding his tongue between your legs, licking your clit with a frantic, starving intensity. He recalled the way your thighs trembled and shook, your fingers digging into his hair, pulling his face harder against your soaking wet folds. He remembered the sound of your heavy moans and the way you whimpered, "Please, Mike, right there," as he sucked your clit into his mouth, swirling his tongue until you climaxed, your body shuddering violently against his face.
"We... we like to... explore," Michael answered absentmindedly, his voice trailing off as he stared at your lips.
The interviewer raised an eyebrow, sensing the distraction. "Explore? My, my. You're sounding more smitten by the second. Tell me, does she ever get shy around you, or is she as bold as you're making her sound?"
ᥫ᭡.ִֶָ𓂃⋆.𐙚 ̊
He remembered the boldness. The time you had him pinned against the wall of the shower, the hot water cascading over both of your bodies. He remembered the feeling of your wet pussy grinding against his thigh before he lifted you up, your legs locking around his waist. He recalled the graphic sound of him fucking you right there, the water splashing around them, the friction of skin on skin. He remembered the way your face looked… eyes rolled back, mouth open in a silent scream of pleasure as he hammered into you, his cock hitting your cervix with every brutal, loving thrust.
"She's... she's very... expressive," Michael whispered, his eyes drifting shut for a second.
The interviewer leaned in for the final blow. "Last one, Michael. If you had to describe your devotion to her in one word, what would it be? Love? Adoration? Obsession?"
ᥫ᭡.ִֶָ𓂃⋆.𐙚 ̊
Obsession. That was it. He remembered the feeling of your ass in his hands, pulling you back against him while he fucked you from behind, his fingers reaching around to play with your nipples. He remembered the sound of your wet, sloppy moans echoing in the room, the way you gasped for air, your body bending and withering under the force of his orgasm. He could almost feel the heat of your cum and his own spilling over your thighs, the messy, sticky aftermath of a session that left both of you shaking and breathless.
Michael didn't answer. He just sat there, a blissful, completely vacant expression on his face, a tiny bit of drool almost forming at the corner of his mouth as he stared right through the interviewer and straight at you.
The studio went silent for a beat. The interviewer looked at Michael, then looked at the audience.
"Uh... Michael? You still with us?"
The audience looked at the superstar, saw his glazed eyes and the goofy, lovestruck smile, and burst into a collective roar of laughter. They knew. They all knew he was completely gone, lost in a fantasy of you that was far from innocent.
𓏲 ࣪ ˖ tags : thradera!!michael, friends to lovers (friends with benefits too), toxic relationships, angst, manipulative mike, smut, michael is very possesive and jealous, angry sex, little fluff at the end.
𓏲 ࣪ ˖ a/n : tried writing a darker michael because i need to see him being possessive and manipulative so bad omfg
ᝰ.ᐟ꩜ michael just can't stand seeing you getting back with your toxic ex boyfriend, cause after all, you're his aren't you ?
it always started with the same quiet knock on his front door past midnight, the kind of sound only someone who knew the exact rhythm of his house would make. michael never had to ask who it was. he’d just lay there on his back for a fraction of a second, staring at the ceiling of his bedroom, listening to the heavy silence of havenhurst before sliding out of bed. when he opened the door, she was always standing there. sometimes she was crying, sometimes she just looked completely drained, her makeup a little smudged under her eyes, holding her jacket tight around her shoulders like a shield against the world outside. and every single time, without a word, michael would just step aside, opening the door wider to let her melt into his warmth.
they had been a fixture in each other's lives for as long as anyone could remember. it was the kind of closeness that defied simple labels. to the rest of the world, they were just best friends—the girl who could make the notoriously shy pop star laugh until his chest ached, the one person who saw past the stage lights and the intense pressure of his career. she knew how he took his tea, she knew the exact look in his eyes when he was overwhelmed by a crowd, and she knew how to ground him when his own thoughts became too loud. they spent hours sitting on the floor of his home studio, her listening to him hum unfinished melodies, their legs tangled together under a blanket without either of them thinking twice about it.
but there was a hidden, unspoken side to this friendship, a blurry line they both crossed whenever the world became too heavy. it wasn't a relationship, at least not officially. it was a mutual understanding, an unspoken pact born out of absolute trust and a deep, simmering physical attraction that neither of them could quite suppress. it would happen naturally—a lingering gaze over the rim of a glass, his hand resting on her waist just a second too long while they walked through the gardens, or the way his voice would drop an octave, becoming soft and velvety when they were alone in the dark. and then, it would lead to quiet, breathless nights in his oversized bed, nights filled with gentle touches, whispered secrets, and a fierce intensity that felt a lot more like love than either of them dared to admit.
the problem was the ghost that always hovered between them: her ex. a guy who knew exactly how to pull her back in just when she was finally starting to breathe. their relationship was a vicious, exhausting cycle of screaming matches, tearful breakups, and toxic reconciliations. every time he pushed her away or made her feel small, she ran straight to michael. michael was her safe harbor, the one who rebuilt her piece by piece, holding her through the night while she cried over another man’s cruelty. michael hated him. he absolutely despised the way that guy treated her, the way he dimmed her light. but as long as she kept going back, michael kept his mouth shut, playing the role of the devoted best friend who was just happy to have her in his arms for a little while, hiding the dark, possessive spark that was slowly beginning to ignite deep within his chest every time he had to let her go again.
very long time, the toxic shadow of her ex seemed to completely vanish from the picture. the final breakup had been messy, filled with the usual slammed doors and late-night tears, but weeks turned into months, and she hadn't gone back. michael watched her slowly heal, watching the heavy tension leave her shoulders and the bright, genuine laughter return to her voice. they were spending more time together than ever, their days blurring into a comfortable, domestic routine that felt dangerously like a real relationship. they cooked late-night meals together in his kitchen, watched old movies until the sun started to rise, and shared quiet, comfortable silences that didn't need to be filled with words.
but while she was finding her footing and celebrating her newfound freedom, something inside michael was shifting, growing into something far more intense and consuming. before, when she was constantly running back and forth, he had managed to keep his feelings locked away in a dark corner of his mind, convincing himself that being her safe harbor was enough. but now, having her all to himself for months without the constant threat of that other guy changed everything. the casual, no-strings-attached nature of their physical moments started to feel like a beautiful torture to him. every time he held her in his arms after they crossed that line, listening to her soft breathing against his chest, a fierce, protective warmth would wash over him, quickly followed by a desperate, aching hunger.
he found himself memorizing the exact way her eyes crinkled when she smiled at him, the scent of her perfume lingering on his pillows long after she left, and the soft, breathless sound of his name slipping from her lips in the dark. it wasn't just attraction anymore; it was an all-consuming need. michael was falling for her, hard and fast, and the realization terrified him just as much as it intoxicated him. he didn't want to just be the best friend she turned to when she was lonely or healing. he wanted to be the only one who got to touch her, the only one who got to love her. every time she brushed her fingers against his arm or leaned her head on his shoulder, his heart would hammer violently against his ribs, his thoughts spiraling into a deep, possessive territory he had never experienced before. she was finally free, and in michael's mind, she was finally, truly becoming his.
it was a quiet, rainy tuesday afternoon when they found themselves tangled up on her living room couch, the soft hum of the rain hitting the windowpanes providing a steady backdrop to their comfortable silence. a half-empty mug of tea was cooling on the coffee table, and she was leaning back against his chest, her hair brushing against his chin while michael lazily traced gentle, random patterns on her bare forearm with his fingertips. everything felt completely peaceful, the kind of safe, insulated bubble they always managed to create whenever they were alone together.
but the peacefulness shattered the moment she took a deep breath, her body turning slightly in his embrace so she could look up at him. she started talking, her voice low and hesitant at first, but then the words just began to pour out of her like a dam breaking. she needed to vent, to finally empty her mind of the lingering weight she had been carrying around. she started talking about her ex, looking back on the relationship with a mix of confusion and exhaustion. she confessed to michael how hard it had been to completely untangle herself from him, how she still sometimes felt the ghost of his toxic words in the back of her head, and how weird it felt to finally be completely done with that chaotic chapter of her life.
"i just... i don't know, mike," she whispered, her voice cracking slightly as she stared down at her own hands, nervously tangling her fingers together. "some days i feel completely fine, like he's just a bad dream. but then other days, i catch myself wondering why i let him treat me like that for so long. it’s like he still has this tiny, stupid hold on my mind, and i hate it. i just wanted to completely erase him."
michael swallowed hard, his chest tightening as he forced himself to stay still. he reached out, his long, slender fingers gently catching her chin to tilt her face up so she had to look at him. his dark eyes were intense, burning with an emotion she couldn't quite read in the dim light of the room.
"then let him go," michael murmured, his voice incredibly soft, almost a hypnotic purr, though his thumb pressed just a fraction too firmly against her jawline. "he doesn't deserve a single second of your thoughts. not anymore."
she let out a heavy, weary sigh, leaning into his touch, completely blind to the dangerous spark igniting inside him. "i know. you're right. it’s just hard to forget someone who was such a huge part of my life, you know? sometimes i wonder if he ever thinks about me, too. or if he'll ever try to come back."
at those words, michael’s hand dropped from her chin to her neck, his palm resting against the warm skin of her throat, his thumb feeling the sudden, rapid skip of her pulse. his jaw clenched so hard a muscle ticked in his cheek. the gentle, patient best friend was fading fast, replaced by something much darker.
"it shouldn't matter if he does," michael said, his voice dropping an octave, becoming dangerously low and thick with a possessive weight. he leaned in closer, his breath brushing against her lips, his eyes locking onto hers with an unyielding grip. "because you're done with him. you're here. with me. he doesn't get to touch you anymore, and he sure as hell doesn't get to have you back."
the heavy, possessive edge in his voice passed completely over her head, misinterpreted as nothing more than the fierce, protective loyalty of a best friend. a soft, incredibly grateful smile touched her lips, melting away the lingering sadness in her eyes. without a word, she shifted her weight and wrapped her arms tightly around his neck, burying her face into the crook of his shoulder. she pulled him close, holding onto him like he was the only anchor she had left in the world.
"thank you, michael," she whispered into his skin, her warm breath sending a sharp shiver straight down his spine. she squeezed him a little tighter, sighing with absolute relief. "i don't know what i'd do without you. i'm just so incredibly lucky to have a friend like you in my life. you're the only constant i have."
at the sound of that word—friend—michael froze completely, his entire body going rigid beneath her embrace. it felt like a bucket of ice water pouring over the dark, roaring fire in his chest, only to turn it into a suffocating, toxic smoke. his eyes widened slightly in the dark, staring blankly at the wall over her shoulder. a friend. after everything they had shared in the quiet hours of the night, after the way he had held her, after the way his heart practically bled for her every single day, she still neatly categorized him into that safe, harmless little box.
slowly, almost mechanically, his arms came up to wrap around her waist, but his grip wasn't gentle anymore. he pulled her body flush against his, tight enough to bruise, his large hands anchoring her against him with a sudden, desperate force that made her let out a tiny, surprised gasp. he buried his face in her hair, inhaling her scent deeply, his mind spiraling into a dangerous, dark place. he didn't want to be just her friend. he hated the word. he wanted to scream at her that friends didn't do the things they did, that friends didn't look at each other the way he looked at her. as he held her captive in his arms, his jaw clenched, a quiet, terrifying vow settling deep into his soul: she could call him a friend all she wanted right now, but he was going to make sure she belonged to him completely, and no one else would ever touch her again.
as the days bled into weeks, michael found himself sinking deeper and deeper into the sea of his own feelings, completely unable and unwilling to swim back to the surface. every single morning started with her on his mind, and every night ended with the memory of her laughter echoing in his head. it was a beautiful, overwhelming shift that colored his entire world. he noticed a change in the way he wrote music, the melodies coming to him more easily, softer and sweeter, completely inspired by the way her presence seemed to anchor his chaotic life.
what made him truly happy—a deep, glowing kind of joy that he hadn't felt in years—was watching her bloom again. the heavy, suffocating cloud that her ex had left over her was finally, completely gone. michael watched her with a quiet, reverent awe as her natural luminosity returned. she smiled more, her eyes danced with that old, vibrant spark he had missed so much, and her laughter filled his quiet home with a warmth that no amount of fame or success ever could. she was glowing, radiant, and completely free, and michael took immense pride in knowing he was the one who had helped her find that light again.
with her healing, the dynamic between them began to clarify, clearing up the messy, confusing boundaries of the past. they weren't just running to each other in the dark to escape pain anymore; they were actively choosing each other in the bright light of day. their shared moments became lighter, filled with a beautiful clarity that made michael’s heart swell with hope. when she reached out to hold his hand while they walked, or when she gave him those long, lingering looks across a crowded room, it didn't feel like a temporary comfort. it felt like a promise. the unspoken bond between them was growing stronger, purer, and more defined, making michael believe that very soon, the painful word 'friend' would naturally fade away, leaving only the beautiful reality of what they were meant to be.
michael’s growing affection began to manifest in the quietest, most beautiful ways, turning their daily routine into a series of soft, romantic gestures that she never saw coming. he had always been a generous soul, but now, every little thing he did for her carried a deeper, hidden weight. he became hyper-attentive to her smallest desires, making it his personal mission to bring a smile to her face before she even realized she needed one.
sometimes, he would show up at her apartment door completely unannounced after a long day in the studio, hiding his hands behind his back with a shy, boyish grin playing on his lips. when he stepped inside, he’d present her with a single, perfectly bloomed pink rose, its petals still damp with morning dew. he didn't make a grand spectacle out of it; he would just hand it to her gently, his fingertips lingering against hers for a second too long, whispering that he saw it and immediately thought of her. soon, her kitchen counter was constantly adorned with small glass vases, each holding a token of his quiet devotion.
it wasn't just the flowers, though; it was the overwhelming thoughtfulness behind every single attention. if she casually mentioned in passing that she was craving a specific sweet from a bakery on the other side of town, she would open her door the next morning to find a fresh box of them sitting on her welcome mat with a small, handwritten note from him. when she was stressed, he would show up with her favorite comfort foods, dim the lights, and rub her shoulders with a quiet, intense focus, listening to her talk for hours without ever asking for anything in return. he was slowly wrapping her entire world in his care, spoiling her with a tenderness she had never experienced in her life, desperately hoping she would see that the man who loved her like this could never be just a friend.
but beneath the surface of her bright new life, a quiet, unsettling secret was beginning to take root. while she truly appreciated every single rose and every tender gesture michael showered her with, she couldn't completely shut off the back of her mind. the truth was, her ex hadn't entirely vanished. a few weeks ago, a random, late-night call had rang on her phone from his number—a simple, manipulative 'i miss you, can we talk?'—and it had completely sent her head spinning. she hadn't replied, but she hadn't blocked him either.
since then, he had tried to reach out a few more times, leaving vague voicemails and checking up on her through mutual acquaintances. every time the phone rang, a familiar, toxic knot of anxiety and old habit would tighten in her stomach. she felt incredibly guilty about it, especially when she looked into michael's sweet, devoted eyes, which is exactly why she made the conscious choice to never mention it to him. she knew how much michael hated her ex, and she didn't want to ruin the beautiful, peaceful dynamic they had built over the last few months. she convinced herself that she could handle it on her own, that it wasn't a big deal because she wasn't giving in.
the air was crisp and quiet around two in the morning when michael pulled up to her apartment complex. he had spent the last five hours in the studio, but his mind had been entirely focused on her, prompting him to leave early just to surprise her with her favorite late-night snacks and a fresh bouquet of white roses. he walked up the stairwell with a soft, eager hum vibrating in his chest, anticipating the sweet, sleepy smile she always wore whenever he knocked on her door at odd hours.
but the moment he stepped onto her floor, the gentle warmth in his veins turned to pure, freezing ice.
there, sitting right outside her doorway, was a pair of dirty sneakers. michael stopped dead in his tracks, his breath hitching in his throat as his eyes locked onto the shoes. he recognized them instantly. he had seen them a hundred times before, abandoned on her floor during those horrible months when that man was systematically breaking her heart. it was her ex. he was inside.
for a long, agonizing second, michael couldn't move. his knuckles turned white around the stems of the roses, crushing the delicate leaves until the scent of crushed greenery filled the narrow hallway. a sudden, violent wave of raw jealousy and absolute fury surged from the pit of his stomach, hot and suffocating, making his heart hammer against his ribs like a trapped animal. his teeth ground together so hard his jaw ached, a dangerous, dizzying rush of adrenaline clouding his vision. she had lied to him. she had kept this from him. after everything he had done to rebuild her, she had let that toxic bastard back into her apartment, back into the space that was supposed to be safe.
then, through the thin wood of the front door, a sound bled into the hallway. it was the deep, smug laugh of her ex, followed by the faint muffled sound of her voice answering him.
the sound of that man's laughter snapped something profound inside michael’s mind. he froze completely, his entire body turning to rigid stone as he stood right in front of the door, staring at the peephole with wide, unblinking eyes. the sweet, gentle boy who brought her flowers vanished entirely, replaced by a dark, terrifyingly possessive monster. his chest rose and fell in shallow, ragged breaths as the laughter mocked him from the other side. according to michael, she didn't belong to that ghost anymore; she belonged to him. she was his girl, his sanity, his creation. hearing another man in her space made him want to rip the door off its hinges, his hands trembling with a sudden, vicious urge to tear everything apart.
the silence that followed that night was deafening. days bled into one another, and for the first time in years, michael completely vanished from her life.
at first, she didn't think much of it, assuming he was just trapped in an intense, overnight recording session where he lost all track of time. but by the third day, a cold, nagging knot of anxiety began to tighten in her chest. she called his personal line—the private number only a handful of people possessed—but it went straight to voicemail every single time, his soft, recorded voice offering her a mocking contrast to the heavy silence on the other end. she sent texts, starting with casual check-ins and gradually spiraling into frantic paragraphs, asking if he was okay, if he was hurt, or if something had happened at havenhurst.
the phone never rang back.
nearly a week passed in this agonizing vacuum. she found herself pacing around her apartment, her eyes constantly darting to her quiet phone, her mind spinning in desperate circles. she felt entirely lost without him; the daily roses had stopped coming, the comforting late-night texts were gone, and the sudden absence of his warmth left her apartment feeling freezing and empty. she started questioning everything, her thoughts taking a darker, more paranoid turn. had his management taken his phone away? was he sick? or worse... was he mad at her?
she racked her brain, trying to remember their last conversation on the couch, wondering if she had accidentally said something to hurt him or push him away. she never once connected his sudden disappearance to the brief, unwanted visit from her ex that rainy night—a visit she had quickly shut down after realizing the guy hadn't changed at all. she had no idea that michael had been standing right outside her door, listening to that laughter. she had no clue that his silence wasn't a sign of absence, but rather the quiet, suffocating calm before a massive storm, and that michael was currently sitting in the dark of his own home, deliberately ignoring her calls while his jealousy twisted into something completely uncontrollable.
unable to handle the suffocating silence for another second, she finally cracked. she grabbed her keys, drove over to havenhurst, and prayed he would be alone. her heart was beating like a drum in her throat as she walked up to his front door, her hands trembling slightly as she knocked, the sound echoing loudly in the quiet afternoon air.
for a long minute, nothing happened. she was just about to knock again, tears of frustration pricking her eyes, when she heard the heavy lock click.
the door swung open slowly, and the breath completely caught in her throat. it was michael, but it wasn't the michael she knew. he looked completely unraveled, his curls slightly messy and his eyes shadowed with dark, exhausted circles. there was no welcoming smile, no gentle warmth in his gaze. instead, his eyes were bloodshot, burning with a cold, terrifying intensity that made her instinctively step back. he looked entirely drained, yet under the surface, a dangerous, volatile anger was practically vibrating through his skin.
"michael..." she breathed, her voice shaking as she reached a hand out toward him. "oh my god, you're okay. why haven't you been answering me? i've been so worried—"
"why did you lie to me?"
his voice cut through her words like a razor blade. it wasn't a shout; it was a low, guttural whisper, thick with an agonizing mix of betrayal and raw, unadulterated fury. he didn't open the door any wider, standing there like a dark barrier, his long fingers gripping the edge of the wood so tightly his knuckles were stark white. the sheer possessive rage in his stare pinned her to the spot, making her realize in one terrifying second that he knew exactly what she had been hiding.
she stared at him, her mind completely blank as a wave of genuine confusion washed over her. the intense rage vibrating off his body was terrifying, but she honestly couldn't connect the dots in her frantic, panicked state.
"michael, what are you talking about?" she asked, her voice trembling as she took a small step closer to the threshold. "what do you mean lie to you? i haven't lied about anything, i swear! please just tell me what's wrong."
michael didn't answer. instead, a dark, bitter scoff slipped from his lips, his shoulders shaking with a terrifying kind of laugh that had absolutely no joy in it. he didn't want to look at her face, because seeing her look so innocent, so clueless, only fueled the blinding fire screaming in his chest. filled with an uncontainable rage, he suddenly spun around on his heel, abandoning the front door entirely, and began walking down the long, dimly lit hallway toward his bedroom. his steps were heavy, deliberate, and practically radiating a dangerous aura that made the entire house feel small.
"michael! stop!" she cried out, her heart hammering wildly against her ribs as she quickly stepped into the house, slamming the front door behind her so she could chase after him.
she followed him down the corridor, her smaller steps running to keep up with his angry, long strides. "michael, talk to me! you can't just ignore me for a week and then accuse me of lying! look at me!" she pleaded, reaching out to grab the sleeve of his shirt, but he ripped his arm away without breaking his pace. she followed him right into his bedroom, the large doors swinging open as he stormed inside, completely desperate to get to the bottom of the terrifying storm that had just taken over her best friend.
he stormed into the deep shadows of his bedroom, finally spinning around to face her the second her feet crossed the threshold. the large doors clicked shut behind her, locking them both inside an incredibly tense, suffocating space. his chest was heaving, his breathing ragged and uneven as he glared down at her, his hands clenched into tight fists at his sides.
"why did you go back to him?" michael demanded, his voice cracking under the sheer weight of his fury. he stepped closer, towering over her, his dark eyes absolutely wild with an intense, possessive rage. "after everything he did to you... after every single night i held you while you cried over his name... why was he in your apartment, laughing? tell me!"
the words hit her like a physical blow. she froze completely, her entire body locking up as the blood completely drained from her face. her eyes widened in pure shock, her breath hitching painfully in her throat as the realization slammed into her mind with terrifying clarity.
he knew. he had seen him.
the puzzle pieces fell into place instantly—the sudden silence, the ignored phone calls, the terrifying anger radiating from him now. she stood there completely paralyzed under his suffocating gaze, realizing that the quiet secret she had been keeping to protect him had just unleashed the darkest, most dangerous side of michael she had ever seen.
her lips parted, but no sound came out at first. she looked up at him, completely trapped beneath the crushing weight of his stare, her mind scrambling for words that simply wouldn't come.
"m-michael, no... i-it's not what you think," she stammered, her voice shaking violently as a thick, painful knot tightened in her throat. she took a small, hesitant step forward, reaching her hands out in a desperate plea. "he—he just showed up... i didn't invite him, i swear, i—"
she couldn't even finish the sentence. the sheer intensity of his fury, combined with the crushing guilt of having kept it a secret, completely broke her. a hot, heavy wave of tears rushed to her eyes, blurring her vision until michael’s angry silhouette became a dark smear in the dim light of the bedroom. she blinked, and the first tear spilled over, tracking a burning line down her pale cheek, quickly followed by another. her shoulders trembled as she swallowed down a sob, staring at him through her tears, utterly terrified by how twisted and ugly a simple misunderstanding had become between them.
michael took a sharp step closer, closing the distance between them until he was looming directly over her, his shadow completely swallowing her small frame. the sight of her tears didn't soften him; if anything, the raw vulnerability in her face only fueled the desperate, ugly knot of jealousy tightening around his throat.
"why do you love him so much?" he asked, his voice dropping into a ragged, breathless whisper that vibrated with absolute pain and fury. he grabbed her by the upper arms, his grip firm and unyielding, forcing her to look up into his dark, chaotic eyes. "what does he give you that i don't? tell me! why is it that every single time he throws a crumb of attention your way, you run right back into his arms like nothing else matters?"
he shook his head, a bitter, breathless laugh escaping his lips as he stared down at her tear-stained face. his chest was heaving against hers, the proximity suffocating and charged with an intense, dangerous energy.
"after every single night we spent in this bed... after the way i look at you, the way i take care of you... you still choose him?" his voice cracked, thick with a possessive despair that made his eyes burn. "he breaks you, and i have to patch you back up, just for you to hand yourself right back to him on a silver platter. why, because you think he owns you? because you think nobody else can love you like that? look at me! why do you keep letting him ruin us?"
the accusation cut deep, and the sheer possessive weight of his words snapped something inside her, replacing her paralyzing fear with a sudden, desperate surge of defensiveness. she yanked her arms back, trying to break his firm grip, her chest heaving as a fresh wave of hot tears spilled down her cheeks.
"how do you mean us, michael?!" she cried out, her voice breaking completely, a breathless, sobbing gasp escaping her throat. she looked at him through her blurred vision, her face pale and distorted by misery. "i don't—i don't owe you anything to begin with! we are friends, michael! you are my best friend!"
she swallowed hard, her voice trembling violently as she tried to force the words past the thick lump in her throat, desperately needing him to understand the nightmare she had actually been dealing with.
"you don't understand," she stammered, her hands shaking as she pressed them against his chest, not to hold him, but to desperately keep some distance between them. "he... he just showed up. it’s his manipulation, michael! you know how he is. he knows exactly when i'm weak, he knows exactly when i'm starting to feel better, and he uses it. he profits off my vulnerability just to force his way back into my life! i didn't ask for him to be there, i didn't want him there! he manipulated his way into my apartment and i was just trying to get him to leave without making a scene!"
at her words, something shifted completely in michael’s eyes. the dark, simmering fury broke into a cold, terrifyingly sharp clarity. he didn't flinch when she screamed that they were just friends; instead, a slow, dark smile touched his lips, completely devoid of any warmth. it was a terrifying look on a face usually so gentle.
"friends?" he whispered, his voice dropping into a low, dangerous purr that vibrated right against her skin.
before she could even register the shift in his tone, his hands moved from her arms to her waist, his long fingers digging into her hips with a sudden, bruising force. he jerked her forward, slamming her body flush against his chest so violently she lost her breath. he loomed over her, his dark eyes locking onto hers with a fierce, suffocating intensity that made the entire bedroom feel like it was closing in on them.
"don't you dare lie to yourself like that," michael growled, his breathing ragged, his face just inches from hers. "best friends don't cross the lines we've crossed in the dark. best friends don't touch each other the way i touch you. i am not your friend, and i am done playing that stupid little game."
he leaned down closer, his lips brushing against her ear as he spoke, his voice thick with a raw, terrifyingly possessive weight that made her whole body tremble.
"you think you don't owe me anything? you belong to me. you’ve belonged to me since the first night you came crying to my doorstep and let me put you back together. i rebuilt you piece by piece while that bastard broke you. he doesn't get to touch you anymore. he doesn't get to profit off your vulnerability. you are mine, do you hear me? mine. and i am never letting you go back to him."
the breath completely trapped itself in her throat, her chest locked tight against his as his words echoed through the silence of the dark bedroom. she stared up at him, her eyes wide, completely paralyzed by the sheer shock of what was happening. this wasn't the sweet, gentle michael who brought her roses and rubbed her shoulders after a long day. the boy standing before her was completely unrecognizable, his voice dripping with a raw, dominant authority that she had never heard from him before.
he slowly leaned in closer, his forehead coming to rest against hers, though there was no real warmth in the gesture—only a heavy, suffocating pressure. his breathing was deliberate, casting a hot, uneven rhythm over her lips. when he spoke again, the hard, dominant edge in his voice suddenly fractured, shifting into something terrifyingly fragile and wounded.
"look at what you're doing to me," michael whispered, his voice cracking with a fragile, trembling emotion that made her heart instantly twist with guilt. "you're sitting there looking at me like i'm a monster. like i'm the one trying to hurt you. after everything i've sacrificed for you... after how much i've bled just to keep us together."
he let out a ragged, trembling sigh, his long fingers trailing up her arms with a delicate, shaking touch, acting as if he were the one who was completely broken and defenseless in the dark.
"i'm the victim here, sweetheart. not you. i'm the one who has to stay up all night, tearing myself apart, wondering why the only person i love would rather let another man touch her than protect my heart. you threw my love right back in my face, and now you're punishing me just because i'm desperate enough to fight for you? because i'm bleeding out right in front of you?"
he squeezed his eyes shut, a single, perfectly timed tear escaping down his cheek as his chest heaved against hers, making himself look entirely helpless and undone by her apparent cruelty.
"you did this to me," he choked out, his voice dripping with a tragic, agonizing despair that was entirely calculated to destroy her defenses. "you broke me first. i'm only like this because you drove me to it. please... tell me you see what you've done to me. tell me you're going to fix the man you broke."
the words left her lips in a panicked, trembling rush, her hands pressing weakly against his chest as she tried to find some ground to stand on. "m-michael... stop, please. you're talking crazy. you're saying completely ridiculous things."
the moment the protest left her mouth, michael's entire demeanor shifted. the fragile, weeping victim vanished in an instant, his jaw locking tight as a chilling, icy stillness washed over his features. he didn't pull away; instead, he leaned down even heavier, trapping her beneath his frame so completely that she could barely expand her lungs to breathe.
"crazy?" he echoed, his voice dropping into a low, terrifyingly calm whisper that vibrated right against her lips. "you think i'm saying ridiculous things?"
he let out a sharp, humorless chuckle that sent a cold shiver straight down her spine. his dark eyes bored into hers, completely devoid of the warmth she usually found there.
"i'm the one who's crazy? after i watched you welcome him into your space? after i had to sit in the dark and feel my entire world collapse because you couldn't be bothered to protect us?" his grip on her jaw tightened, just enough to keep her completely still, forcing her to look at the cold fury masking his face. "don't you dare try to rewrite what you did to me. don't you dare sit here and gaslight me into thinking my pain isn't real just because you don't want to face the guilt of what you've done."
he leaned in closer, his hot breath brushing against her ear as his voice turned dangerously sharp.
"you don't get to dismiss me. you broke me, and now you're going to stay right here and look at exactly what you created."
he leaned back just enough to force her to look into his dark, unyielding eyes, his fingers tightening firmly around her jaw. the cold fury in his expression suddenly shifted into a terrifyingly intense, dark conviction.
"you still don't get it, do you?" michael murmured, his voice dropping into a low, gravelly rasp that vibrated deep in his chest. "you really don't understand. you think this is a game? you think you can just choose when you want to be with me and when you want to play around with someone else?"
he let out a sharp, breathless exhale, his chest pressing down flush against hers, crushing any space between them until she was entirely pinned beneath his heavy warmth.
"you belong to me. every single piece of you. your body, your breath, your thoughts—they all belong to me," he whispered fiercely, his eyes scanning her panicked, flushed face with an absolute, frightening certainty. "i didn't spend all this time loving you, protecting you, and tearing myself apart just to let you slip away. you are mine. you don't get to decide anymore."
he slid his hand down from her jaw, his long, warm fingers wrapping possessively around her throat—not to squeeze, but to claim, feeling the frantic, rapid flutter of her pulse beneath his palm.
"there is no one else, and there never will be," he purred darkly against her lips, his gaze completely devouring her. "you're locked in this room with me, and you're going to stay right here until you finally understand that you are completely, entirely mine."
the air in the bedroom grew thick, heavy, and suffocatingly hot. with his lips brushing her skin and his hands pinning her hips, the space between them vanished entirely, and a completely different kind of tension began to coil in the pit of her stomach. it wasn't just fear anymore. it was a sharp, dizzying rush of adrenaline that made her whole body tingle, a sudden, dangerous spark igniting right in the middle of all this chaos.
as she stared up at his mouth, her heart hammered so hard against her ribs she was sure he could feel it. the sheer weight of the situation finally crashed down on her with full force. michael—her sweet, gentle, protected michael—was completely out of control, consumed by a fierce, dominant hunger for her. and the most terrifying part? a small, dark corner of her mind was secretly thrilled by the absolute certainty in his voice.
she swallowed hard, her throat dry, her eyes locked onto his dark, burning gaze. she could feel the erratic rise and fall of his chest against hers, the raw male power he was using to hold her still, and the dangerous promises dripping from his tongue. the realization that she was entirely at his mercy, trapped in his bedroom with a man who was ruthlessly claiming her as his exclusive possession, sent a violent shiver right through her core. she was caught in a trap of her own making, and looking into his wild eyes, she realized she didn't even want to run away anymore.
the raw, suffocating intensity of michael's grip finally broke through her defenses, dissolving the last of her confusion into a desperate need to make him understand the truth. she didn't want her ex. she was terrified of him.
"michael, please... listen to me," she choked out, her voice cracking as a fresh wave of tears spilled over her lashes. she stopped trying to pull away and instead let her hands clutch the fabric of his shirt, leaning into his solid chest as her knees threatened to buckle. "i don't want him. i swear to you, i don't. i am so tired, michael... i can't take it anymore."
she swallowed hard, a ragged sob escaping her throat as she confessed the secret she had been carrying alone for weeks. "he... he scares me. he won't stop, michael. he always finds a way to show up, he forces his way into my space, and he doesn't care when i tell him to leave. that night... i was just so paralyzed and terrified of making a scene that i didn't know what to do. i never wanted him there. i never wanted anyone but you."
hearing her voice tremble with genuine fear shifted something volatile in the room. she looked up at him through her blurred vision, her heart hammering wildly as she laid her vulnerability entirely at his feet. she was completely exhausted from running from her past, and in that moment, looking into michael's dark, fiercely protective eyes, she realized she was begging for him to save her—even if it meant completely surrendering herself to his dangerous, absolute control.
the tears she had been trying so hard to hold back finally spilled over, rushing down her cheeks in hot, heavy streams. her shoulders shook violently as she completely broke down under the crushing weight of her exhaustion, her fear of her ex, and the sheer, dizzying intensity of everything happening in this room.
seeing her completely unravel like this caused a subtle shift in michael’s expression. the blinding, volatile fury melted into a dark, suffocating tenderness—something far more dangerous and possessive than his anger had been. his tight grip on her hips loosened just enough for him to bring one hand up to her face. his long, slender fingers, incredibly gentle yet unyielding, brushed against her wet cheek. with his thumb, he slowly, almost religiously, wiped away the tears pooling at her lashes.
"shh... don't cry anymore. don't you ever cry for him again," he murmured, his voice dropping into a low, caressing cadence that carried an absolute, undeniable authority.
he leaned in even closer, pressing his forehead directly against hers, forcing her to drown in the depths of his dark gaze as his presence entirely swallowed her up.
"you never have to be afraid of him again. i’m here now. he’s never going to get near you again, do you hear me?" his hand slid around to the back of her neck, his fingers anchoring themselves into her hair to keep her pinned right against him. "you belong to me. you are mine, and no one else’s. i’m going to protect you from him, i’m going to protect you from everything. but you have to understand that you are my girl now. never again do you let him in. never again do you hide anything from me. you are mine, okay?"
every word he whispered as he wiped her eyes felt like a sacred, unbreakable pact being sealed in the shadows of the bedroom. he wasn't leaving her an exit, erasing the entire outside world until there was absolutely nothing left but the two of them in the dark.
she could barely breathe, her throat so tight with sobs that the words caught and tangled on her tongue. she shook her head weakly against his forehead, her small hands clutching desperately at the front of his shirt as she tried one last time to make him understand the absolute terror her ex had put her through.
"m-michael... p-please," she stammered, a broken, breathless gasp escaping her trembling lips as fresh tears instantly replaced the ones he had just wiped away. "i—i didn't want... i tried to tell him to leave, i swear... i was just so scared... you have to believe me, mike..."
but her frantic explanations seemed to fade into nothingness against the heavy, dominant rhythm of his breathing. michael didn't look at her like a friend listening to a story; he looked at her like a man claiming what was rightfully his. his thumb continued its slow, deliberate path across her damp skin, smoothing away the moisture with a touch that felt entirely too heavy, entirely too possessive to resist.
"shh... it doesn't matter anymore," he murmured, his voice dropping into an even deeper, darker whisper that vibrated straight through her chest.
with every word, he moved closer, pressing his body so firmly against hers that she could feel the hard line of his thighs and the terrifying, steady beat of his heart. he nudged her chin upward, backing her up just an inch until the back of her knees hit the edge of his mattress, trapping her completely between him and the bed.
"forget about him," michael whispered, his lips brushing against her cheek now, traveling down to the corner of her mouth as his hot breath fanned over her skin. "he’s gone. you don't answer to him, you don't look at him. you only look at me. you are mine now. every single part of you belongs to me."
"n-no... michael, we can't... we can't do this," she stammered, her voice cracking as a sudden wave of panic cut through the heavy tension.
with a desperate surge of strength, she pushed her hands against his chest and managed to tear herself away from his suffocating grip. the sudden loss of his heat made the bedroom air feel freezing cold. her heart was hammering wildly against her ribs as she began to pace back and forth across the dark hardwood floor, her hands gripping her own hair, her mind spinning out of control. "this is wrong... you're my friend, michael, we are crossing lines we shouldn't be crossing... i'm so confused, i can't think straight..."
michael stood completely still by the edge of the bed, watching her frantic movements with a calm, unbothered intensity. he didn't chase after her; instead, he just leaned back slightly, a soft, almost disappointed sigh escaping his lips as he shook his head.
"what do you mean we can't do this?" he asked, his voice dripping with a smooth, gaslighting gentleness that made her stop in her tracks. he took a slow, deliberate step toward her, his expression a picture of pure innocence and concern. "sweetheart, look at how worked up you're getting over nothing. you're the one who came into my room crying. you're the one who always comes to me when he breaks you. i'm just giving you the security you've been begging for this whole time."
he walked closer, his dark eyes locked onto hers, completely twisting reality until she felt like she was the one losing her mind.
"don't act like i'm forcing this on you," michael murmured, a faint, condescending smile touching his lips. "you know you want this just as much as i do. you're just scared because for the first time, someone actually wants to take care of you completely. why are you pretending this is a mistake when you've been leading us right to this moment every single night?"
"b-but we're friends, michael! we've always just been friends," she cried out, her voice cracking as she stopped her pacing, her eyes wide and desperate as she stared at him fromacross the room. she was practically begging him to validate the reality she had been clinging to for months, her hands trembling against her sides. "you're the person i trust most in the world, but as a friend... we can't just change that."
michael let out a low, bitter laugh, a sound that sent a cold chill straight down her spine. he closed the distance between them in a few slow, predatory strides, not stopping until he was looming right over her again, his presence completely trapping her against the wall.
"friends? really?" he whispered, tilting his head down so his dark, intense gaze could pierce straight into hers. his voice dropped into that low, dangerous purr, utterly dismissive of her panic. "after everything we’ve done behind closed doors? you're really going to stand there and tell me that?"
he reached out, his long fingers firmly wrapping around her waist once more, pulling her flush against his chest so suddenly that a soft gasp escaped her lips.
"best friends don't hold each other the way we do in the dark. they don't look at each other the way you look at me when you're lonely," michael murmured, his lips brushing against her temple as he tightened his grip, completely shattering any illusion of innocence left between them. "we passed 'just friends' a long time ago, sweetheart. we are so much more than that now, and you know it. stop lying to yourself."
he slowly leaned in closer, his forehead coming to rest against hers, though there was no real warmth in the gesture—only a heavy, suffocating pressure. his breathing was deliberate, casting a hot, uneven rhythm over her lips. when he spoke again, the hard, dominant edge in his voice suddenly fractured, shifting into something terrifyingly fragile and wounded.
he leaned down even closer, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin of her earlobe, his hot breath sending a violent shiver straight down her spine. even with his hand resting possessively over her throat, his touch suddenly became agonizingly slow, almost tender, contrasting terrifyingly with the raw dominance in his voice.
"tell me the truth, sweetheart," he murmured, his voice dropping into a low, hypnotic purr. "did he ever make you smile the way I do? when he looked at you, did your heart race like it's doing right now?"
he trailed his lips down her jawline, planting a slow, burning kiss just beneath her ear before looking back down into her wide, glassy eyes. a dark, deeply confident smile pulled at his lips.
"and what about when we're together? during our little secret adventures... did he ever even come close to making you feel that kind of pleasure? did he ever make your body shake and shatter the way i just did?"
he slid his hand down from her neck, his fingers trailing a burning path over her collarbone before digging firmly into her hip, pinning her completely against the wall.
"he couldn't touch you, and you know it," michael whispered fiercely, his dark eyes burning with an absolute, undeniable triumph. "nobody can love you like i do. nobody can make you feel alive the way i do. you're ruined for anyone else, sweetheart, because no one will ever compare to me."
his fingers slowly dragged down from her hip, tracing a burning line across the sensitive skin of her stomach. the movement was agonizingly deliberate, making her stomach muscles tense instantly under his touch.
"did he even know how to touch you?" michael whispered, his voice dropping into a rough, gravelly murmur that vibrated right against her skin. "did he know the exact spots that make you lose your mind?"
his hand slid lower, moving past her waist and slipping between her thighs, his long, warm fingers making direct, heavy contact with her slick warmth. he didn't push inside right away; instead, his palm pressed firmly against her core, applying a torturous, rhythmic pressure that forced a soft, helpless gasp from her lips.
"did he make you burn like this, sweetheart?" he purred fiercely, watching her face closely as a fresh wave of heat made her hips twitch weakly against his hand. "did he ever make you open up for him this easily? look at how your body answers me. you were made for my hands, and only mine."
"m-michael... what are you doing? please..." she breathed out, the words trembling past her lips in a weak, desperate gasp.
but even as the protest left her mouth, her body completely betrayed her. she didn't pull away. she didn't try to close her legs or push his hand away. instead, her fingers clutched tighter into the wall, her hips melting helplessly into the firm, heavy pressure of his palm. she was completely paralyzed by the sheer intensity of him, trapped in a daze where her mind wanted him to stop, but her body was already entirely surrendered to his touch.
michael let out a low, deeply satisfied hum against her skin, noticing instantly how she wasn't fighting him. he loved the contradiction—the way she questioned him with her voice, while her entire body opened up for him, pleading for more.
"i'm taking what's mine, sweetheart," michael whispered fiercely, his dark eyes locking onto hers as his long fingers began to move against her, sliding through her slick warmth with a slow, deliberate friction.
he leaned down, his lips brushing against her burning cheek as he witnessed her complete, silent submission.
"look at you... you're asking me to stop, but you're shaking for me. you're soaking wet for my fingers," he purred darkly into her ear, his rhythm turning heavier, driving her right back into a state of absolute delirium. "you're letting me do exactly what i want with you, because you know this is exactly where you belong."
"m-michael, please... if you don't stop, i won't be able to..." she trailed off, the words dying in her throat as a sharp, sudden knot of emotion cut off her breath. she couldn't finish the thought, couldn't voice the terrifying truth that she was losing every ounce of her resolve under the heavy weight of his hands and his words.
michael stopped the movement of his fingers just for a fraction of a second, his dark eyes narrowing in the dim light as he leaned down closer, his face mere inches from hers.
"you won't be able to what, sweetheart?" he murmured, his voice a low, challenging rasp that vibrated with dangerous curiosity. "finish the sentence. tell me exactly what you can't do."
but instead of answering, instead of letting him drag another piece of her confession out into the open, she completely snapped. a wave of raw, overwhelming emotion crashed over her—a suffocating mix of devastating sadness from his cruel manipulation and a sudden, burning anger at how easily he could make her crumble.
before he could utter another word, she reached up, her hands tangling desperately into his hair, and pulled his face down to hers, slamming her lips against his.
the kiss was completely chaotic, filled with a bruising intensity that caught him completely off guard. there was nothing sweet or gentle about it; it was a desperate, messy collision of all the pain and frustration she was holding inside. she poured every ounce of her heartbreak into the friction of their lips, crying out silently against his mouth in a furious, grieving surrender that told him everything her words couldn't.
the kiss deepened, turning into a frantic, breathless struggle as michael instantly met her intensity. he didn't back down for a single second; instead, his arms locked around her waist and shoulders, crushing her chest against his with a sudden, bruising force that threatened to squeeze the remaining air right out of her lungs.
it was a chaotic collision of passion and underlying fury. every movement of his lips against hers felt like a battle for absolute control, a heavy, desperate possessiveness that was as intoxicating as it was terrifying. he was holding her so tightly it almost hurt, his large hands digging deep into her skin as if he wanted to physically meld her body into his own, ensuring she could never pull away from him again.
she could taste the raw anger in the way his teeth grazed her bottom lip, but beneath the violence of it, there was a desperate, suffocating need that made her head spin. she clung to him just as fiercely, her fingers ripping through his curls, matching his heavy, demanding rhythm as the dark room seemed to completely vanish around them. they were drowning in each other, completely consumed by a storm of hurt, desire, and mutual ruin.
without breaking the kiss, michael suddenly locked his arms beneath her thighs and hoisted her up in one powerful, effortless motion. her instinct kicked in instantly, her legs wrapping tightly around his waist as he slammed her back hard against the bedroom wall. the sudden impact jolted through her, but before she could even gasp, his mouth crushed back down onto hers with an even more aggressive, unyielding fury.
the kiss completely devolved into something primal and frantic. he was dominating her mouth, his tongue forcing its way inside with a heavy, demanding friction that completely stole her breath away. there was no gentleness left, no hesitation—just a raw, bruising hunger that made her head spin as he pinned her body flat against the wall with his heavy chest.
she clung to his shoulders for dear life, her fingers digging desperately into his skin as the sheer intensity of the collision threatened to pull her under. every ragged breath they shared felt like fire, the toxic mixture of anger, desire, and mutual destruction burning hot between them as he held her aloft, completely at his mercy.
her hands tore away from his shoulders, dropping down to the collar of his shirt with that same frantic, aggressive energy. she didn't care about being careful; her fingers gripped the fabric tightly, pulling and tugging at the buttons with a desperate impatience that nearly ripped the material apart. she needed the barrier gone, needed to feel his bare skin against hers to match the suffocating intensity burning in her chest.
michael let out a low, rough growl against her mouth, his grip on her thighs tightening even more ruthlessly as he felt her nails graze against his chest. he helped her, shifting his weight just enough to let her slide the shirt off his shoulders, letting it drop carelessly to the floor.
the moment her bare palms made contact with his hot, tense muscles, the kiss grew even wilder. she dragged her hands up his chest, her touch a chaotic mix of anger and absolute need, while his mouth continued to dominate hers, pinning her to the wall as they completely lost themselves in the friction of the dark bedroom.
her hands tore away from his shoulders, dropping down to the collar of his shirt with that same frantic, aggressive energy. she didn't care about being careful; her fingers gripped the fabric tightly, pulling and tugging at the buttons with a desperate impatience that nearly ripped the material apart. she needed the barrier gone, needed to feel his bare skin against hers to match the suffocating intensity burning in her chest.
michael let out a low, rough growl against her mouth, his grip on her thighs tightening even more ruthlessly as he felt her nails graze against his chest. he helped her, shifting his weight just enough to let her slide the shirt off his shoulders, letting it drop carelessly to the floor.
the moment her bare palms made contact with his hot, tense muscles, the kiss grew even wilder. she dragged her hands up his chest, her touch a chaotic mix of anger and absolute need, while his mouth continued to dominate hers, pinning her to the wall as they completely lost themselves in the friction of the dark bedroom.
breaking the kiss for a split second, michael leaned back just enough to look at her, his chest heaving violently against hers, his dark eyes wild and completely consumed by the chaos between them. a rough, breathless laugh escaped his lips, his voice dropping into a ragged, fierce whisper against her mouth.
"you're completely insane," he growled, his grip on her thighs tightening until it almost bruised.
"so are you," she shot back instantly, her voice trembling with that same volatile mix of anger and devotion, her eyes staring right back into his with a defiant, burning intensity.
before the words could even fully leave her lips, michael crashed his mouth back down onto hers, and they completely lost their minds. the kiss became a frantic, desperate collision, a beautiful ruin of lips and teeth as they devoured each other in the dark room.
while keeping her pinned firmly against the wall with the weight of his upper body, michael slid one of his large, warm hands down from her thigh. with rough, impatient movements, his fingers hooked into the waistband of her bottoms, dragging the fabric down her legs with a desperate urgency. she kicked her legs out of them blindly, never once breaking the suffocating depth of the kiss, her hands gripping his bare shoulders as her body completely opened up to his touch, entirely surrendered to the madness.
he pulled his lips away from hers just an inch, his hot, ragged breath brushing violently against her mouth as he kept her pinned hard against the solid wood of the wall. his eyes were pitch black, completely consumed by that toxic, relentless jealousy that he just couldn't shake.
"did he ever do this to you?" michael demanded, his voice a rough, breathless rasp that shook with possessive anger. "did he ever have the balls to slide his hands up your thighs, lift you up, and slam you against a wall like this? did he ever look at you and make you feel like you were going to break in half?"
she let out a desperate, shaky gasp, her fingers clutching his bare shoulders as he pressed his heavy frame even closer, giving her absolutely no room to escape his questions.
"tell me, sweetheart. did he touch you right here? did he make you shake the way i do?" he purred darkly, his words dripping with a bitter, obsessive curiosity that was entirely meant to torture them both.
she couldn't take it anymore. the words, the accusations, the suffocating guilt—she just wanted all of it to vanish into the dark. she didn't want to think about the past, and she didn't want to fight the monster he was being.
"shut up," she breathed out, her voice a fierce, broken whisper as she stared straight into his wild eyes. "just shut up and make love to me."
the words left her lips like a direct challenge, and it instantly woke something fierce and predatory deep inside him. a dark, dangerous wave of pride surged through his chest, smoothing out the rough edges of his anger into an absolute, intoxicating sense of victory. he let out a low, gravelly chuckle against her skin, the sound vibrating with a supreme, masculine satisfaction. she was begging him now, entirely consumed by him, completely blind to anyone else.
with his ego fully fed and his possessiveness validated, he slowly lowered her just enough for her feet to touch the hardwood floor, though he kept her pinned firmly against the wall with the heavy, unyielding weight of his bare torso. he intentionally loosened his iron grip on her, giving her arms just enough freedom to move.
"do it then," michael whispered right against her ear, his breath hot and commanding. "take it off me."
her hands dropped to the waistband of his trousers instantly, her fingers trembling but filled with that same frantic, aggressive urgency. she unbuckled his belt with a sharp, metallic click that echoed loudly in the quiet bedroom, her nails scratching lightly against his skin as she undid the button and slowly dragged the heavy zipper down. michael stood perfectly still, his head tilted back slightly against the wall, a dark, triumphant smirk playing on his lips as he watched her through hooded, burning eyes, completely enjoying her desperation.
she hooked her fingers into the fabric, pushing his trousers and briefs down past his hips in one smooth, impatient motion, completely baring his lower body to the cool air of the dark room. his manhood was already fully exposed—thick, heavy, and pulsing with a fierce, hot readiness that completely dominated the small space between them. a thin sheen of pre-cum glistened at the dark tip, catching the faint glint of light in the shadows as his erection strained upward, a raw testament to how much her submission and her words had driven him crazy.
she stared down at him for a fraction of a second, her breath hitching at the sheer size and heat radiating from his lap, but before she could even process it, michael’s hand locked firmly around the back of her neck, tilting her head up to force her to look at him.
"look at what you do to me," he purred darkly, his long fingers sliding down to grip her thigh, lifting her leg up high to completely open her up to him. "now tell me exactly who you belong to."
"you," she gasped out, her voice a broken, breathless whisper as she clung to his bare shoulders for support. "i belong to you, michael. only you."
the answer was exactly what he needed to hear. that dark, possessive pride flared up in his chest again, and without another word, he lifted her leg higher, hooking it securely around his hip to completely expose her center to his heat.
he positioned himself directly against her entrance, the broad, smooth tip of his length brushing firmly through her slick warmth, teasing the very edge of her core. she let out a sharp, involuntary whine at the sensation, her hips instinctively tilting forward, begging for the friction, but michael paused for one agonizing second, staring deep into her eyes to make sure she was looking right at him when it happened.
"stay right there. look at me," he murmured, his voice a dark, commanding growl.
then, with one heavy, unyielding thrust, he drove himself straight inside.
the sudden, massive fullness of him filled her completely, stretching her tight walls so perfectly that a loud, choked gasp tore from her throat. her fingers dug deep into the muscles of his back, her nails scratching against his skin as her body adjusted to the intense, burning heat of him burying himself all the way to the hilt. michael let out a low, ragged groan against her neck, his entire body shuddering as her slick, tight core clamped down fiercely around his length, trapping him inside her suffocating warmth.
he didn't give her time to recover. holding her firmly against the wall with his hands locked under her thighs, he pulled back slightly and drove in again, establishing a heavy, aggressive rhythm that made the headboard rattle against the drywall. each deep, possessive stroke was a reminder of exactly who she belonged to, plunging them both headfirst into absolute madness.
the rhythm became completely frantic, a heavy, seamless friction that echoed loudly in the dark bedroom. each time he drove himself deep inside her, the impact jolted straight through her core, sending a violent, paralyzing wave of pleasure through her entire body. she was completely undone, her head rolling back against the solid wall as ragged, breathless moans tore from her throat with every single thrust.
she absolutely loved it. she loved the terrifying intensity of his weight against her, the bruising grip of his hands on her skin, and the undeniable truth that, despite all the anger and the tears, her body was completely wired for his touch. she clung to his bare shoulders, her fingers digging deep into his muscles, pulling him closer and tilting her hips forward to meet every heavy stroke, matching his aggressive energy with a desperate hunger of her own.
michael let out a low, gravelly groan against the column of her neck, his chest heaving violently against hers. the feeling of her tight, slick walls clamping down ruthlessly around him with every movement was driving him completely insane. he could feel how perfectly she welcomed him, how her body shaped itself entirely around his length, and it fed that dark, possessive pride inside him until it was completely intoxicating.
he loved the absolute certainty of having her pinned here, hearing her voice break as she cried out his name, knowing that no matter what happened outside this room, she was entirely surrendered to him in the dark.
"look at you... you love this," michael panting, his voice a rough, breathless rasp as he pulled back and drove right back in, burying himself to the hilt. "you love how hard i'm taking you, don't you, sweetheart?"
she couldn't even answer with words; she just let out a sharp, shattered cry, her legs wrapping even tighter around his waist as she buried her face into his neck, biting down gently on his shoulder to anchor herself through the overwhelming storm of pleasure. they were both completely drowning in the madness, losing themselves in a chaotic, beautiful ruin where anger, passion, and mutual devotion were completely indistinguishable.
he slowed his pace just a fraction, but the depth of his thrusts remained heavy and unyielding, keeping her completely pinned against the wall as he buried his face in the crook of her neck. his hot, ragged breaths were sharp against her skin, vibrating with the sudden, raw return of that suffocating memory.
"you have no idea..." michael growled, his voice dropping into a rough, fractured whisper that shook with a toxic mixture of pleasure and lingering fury. "you have absolutely no idea how much rage i had burning inside me when i saw him standing there. in your apartment. in your space."
he drove into her again, a hard, possessive stroke that forced a broken gasp from her lips, his hands tightening on her thighs until his knuckles turned white.
"i tried so hard to be a gentleman," he panted, his teeth grazing against the sensitive skin of her jawline as he fought the memory of that suffocating anger. "i stood there, i played the part, i didn't lay a hand on him... but i had nothing but pure hatred in my chest. i wanted to tear the place apart. i wanted to destroy him for even looking at what belongs to me."
he pulled back slightly, his dark eyes forcing her to look straight at him through the shadows, his expression a chaotic mix of intense pleasure and raw, vulnerable bitterness.
"seeing another man in your life... it was killing me, sweetheart," he whispered fiercely, his rhythm picking right back up, driving into her with a renewed, desperate intensity that made her head spin. "and right now, i'm wiping every single trace of him out of your mind."
"m-michael... ah! michael..." she moaned out his name, the sound breaking from her throat in a shattered, breathless sob as his words and his body crashed into her all at once.
she tightened her legs around his waist, pulling him in even deeper, wanting to swallow up all that lingering bitterness he was pouring into her. she could feel the raw pain behind his jealousy, and it broke something inside her, melting away the last of her own anger.
"there’s no one else..." she panted, her voice trembling as she clutched his face between her hands, forcing him to look at her through the dark. "it was only ever you... it's always been you. i don't care about him, michael. i don't care about anyone else."
she kissed him again, a deep, desperate reassurance that tasted like salt and heat, trying to heal the wound she had caused.
michael let out a low, shuddering growl against her lips, her words hitting him right in his chest. that final validation completely broke his remaining restraint. his rhythm turned wilder, faster, driving into her with a fierce, possessive desperation that completely consumed them both, erasing everything else from existence until there was nothing left but his name on her lips.
the tension in the room coiled so tight it felt ready to snap. the heavy, desperate rhythm of his hips against hers grew faster, shallower, driven by a sudden, electric urgency that gripped them both at the exact same moment. a familiar, blinding heat began to bloom deep in her lower stomach, spreading rapidly through her veins like wildfire.
"michael..." she gaspsed out, her fingers tightening into his damp hair, her entire body arching off the wall as her internal muscles began to contract around him in tiny, frantic waves.
michael felt the sudden, tight squeeze of her core, and it pushed him right over the edge. his breathing turned completely ragged, his chest heaving violently against hers as a dark, guttural groan tore from his chest. he recognized that look in her eyes—the way her focus shattered, her gaze rolling back as she clung to him for dear life.
"i know, sweetheart... i feel you," he panted fiercely against her lips, his hands locking around her thighs with an iron grip, holding her up as he delivered a few final, devastatingly deep thrusts. "come on... right now. give it all to me."
the pleasure crashed over them like a tidal wave. she let out a long, broken cry against his shoulder as her climax ripped through her, her body shuddering violently in a beautiful, prolonged release. the sensation of her undoing was too much for michael to handle; with one last, powerful surge, he buried himself to the hilt and let go, a sharp gasp escaping his lips as his own release flooded her core, locking them together in a shared, breathless oblivion.
the intense waves of pleasure slowly receded, leaving her body completely heavy and exhausted. her legs gradually slipped down from his waist, her feet finding the cool floor as she leaned weakly against the wall, her forehead resting against michael's bare shoulder. her breath was still coming in short, uneven gasps, but then, the heavy silence of the room was broken by a soft, hitched sob.
a single hot tear slipped down her cheek, quickly followed by another, until she was silently crying, her shoulders trembling against him.
michael noticed instantly. the post-climax daze vanished from his eyes, and his entire demeanor shifted in a fraction of a second. all the rough aggression, the jealousy, and the dark pride completely melted away, replaced by an immediate, protective panic.
"sweetheart?" he murmured, his voice instantly dropping into a soft, worried caress.
he wrapped his large arms securely around her, pulling her close to his bare chest as he felt her shaking. one of his long hands came up to cradle the back of her head, while the other gently lifted her chin, forcing her to look up at him through the dark. his dark eyes were wide with genuine anxiety, searching her tear-stained face for answers.
"hey, hey... look at me. what's wrong?" michael whispered tenderly, his thumb gently wiping away the damp streaks on her cheeks. his heart was suddenly hammering against his ribs, but this time out of fear. "why are you crying? did i hurt you? tell me, please... you're scaring me."
the moment he asked, the dam completely broke. all the anxiety, the guilt, and the suffocating weight she had been carrying inside for months finally spilled over, and she just couldn't hold it back anymore. she buried her face in his bare chest, her hands clutching at his shoulders as the tears came faster, her voice coming out in a broken, trembling rush.
"i'm just... i'm so scared, michael," she sobbed out, the confession tearing from her throat before she could stop it. "i've been so terrified to start anything with you. every single time i look at you, every time i let myself feel how much i love you, i panic."
michael didn't say a word; he just held her tighter, his chest rising and falling heavily as he listened, his heart aching at the raw pain in her voice. He kissed the top of her head, soothing her silently, letting her get everything out.
"i'm so scared that everything is going to repeat itself," she choked out, looking up at him through her blurred vision, her eyes filled with a deep, devastating vulnerability. "my past relation... the way it ended, the way it ruined me. i'm terrified that if i let myself fully belong to you, it's all going to happen again. i can't survive that a second time, michael. i'm so scared that i'm going to lose you."
the raw honesty of her words hit him like a physical blow. the protective instinct in him flared up instantly, fierce and unyielding. michael didn't hesitate for a single second; he cupped her face gently in both of his large hands, using his thumbs to brush away the fresh tears, forcing her to look directly into his eyes so she could see the absolute sincerity burning inside them.
"hey, look at me," he murmured, his voice incredibly soft, yet completely solid and grounded. "look right at me, sweetheart. i am not him. and i am not going anywhere."
she squeezed her eyes shut as another fresh wave of tears spilled over, her voice dropping into a small, fragile whisper that completely broke his heart.
"that's why i kept pushing you away," she confessed, her fingers tightening into the fabric of his shirt as if she were trying to anchor herself. "that's why i wanted to just limit us to this... to these little adventures, these casual moments that didn't have a label. i kept telling myself that if it wasn't founded on anything real, if we didn't call it a relationship, then i'd be safe. i thought it would protect me if things went wrong."
she let out a shaky, exhausted breath, finally opening her eyes to look at him, her gaze completely raw and stripped of any armor.
"but it didn't protect me, michael. it just made me miserable. I'm so tired... I'm so incredibly tired of suffering, of being trapped by my own fear. i don't want to hide behind these walls anymore. i don't want to pretend. i just want to love you."
michael’s expression softened so deeply it looked like a physical ache. a low, tender breath escaped his lips as he leaned down, pressing his forehead gently against hers. he felt a profound wave of humility and fierce devotion wash over him; hearing her final surrender, her desire to just let go and love him, completely healed whatever lingering trace of jealousy he had left.
"oh, sweetheart..." he murmured, his hands moving from her face to wrap securely around her waist, pulling her flush against his chest so she could feel the steady, rapid beating of his heart. "you don't have to protect yourself from me. you're safe now. i've got you, and i'm never letting go."
michael held her even closer, pulling her completely into his warmth until there was no space left between them. he wrapped his long arms around her shoulders and lower back, rocking her gently in the quiet darkness of the room, letting the steady rhythm of his heartbeat soothe her frantic breathing.
"listen to me very carefully, okay?" he murmured, his voice incredibly soft, like a warm blanket wrapping around her. he leaned down and pressed a long, tender kiss against her wet temple, keeping his lips brushed against her skin as he spoke. "you don't ever have to be scared with me. i know you've been hurt, and i know how terrifying it is to give your heart to someone again. but i promise you, with everything that i am, everything is going to be alright."
he pulled back just enough to look into her eyes, his hands moving up to cup her face with absolute gentleness. gone was the aggressive, jealous man from before; his eyes were filled with nothing but pure, unadulterated devotion.
"i am not going to repeat the past, and i am never, ever going to ruin what we have," he whispered, his thumb wiping away the very last of her tears. "with me, you don't have to build any walls. you can just let go. I'm going to protect you, sweetheart. I'm going to take care of you every single day, and we're going to build something so beautiful, so solid, that nothing can ever break it."
he smiled gently, a small, reassuring curve of his lips that instantly made the dark room feel safe again.
"you just want to love? then let me love you back. just trust me. we're going to take it one step at a time, together. you're safe now, i promise."
without another word, michael slipped one arm securely beneath her knees and the other around her upper back, effortlessly lifting her up into his arms in a gentle bridal carry. she instinctively buried her face into the crook of his neck, her hands clinging to his bare shoulders as he carried her away from the cold wall and across the dark bedroom.
he walked over to the bed and carefully laid her down against the soft, mattress, pulling the plush duvet over her body to keep her warm. instead of pulling away, michael immediately climbed into the bed right beside her, shifting his weight to lie down and pull her flush against his side.
he gathered her back into his arms, resting her head comfortably on his chest while his long fingers gently stroked her hair.
"just let it all out, sweetheart," he murmured softly into the darkness, his voice a soothing, rhythmic whisper as his chest rose and fell beneath her cheek. "i'm right here. if you need to cry, just cry. i've got you."
he held her tightly, completely surrounding her with his warmth and creating a safe, quiet haven where she didn't have to be strong anymore, giving her all the space she needed to finally heal.
rested in the deep quiet of the bedroom, the heavy rise and fall of his chest beneath her cheek was the only sound for a long moment. michael kept his fingers moving through her hair, his touch incredibly light, but his eyes were fixed on the ceiling, dark with the weight of a truth he had been holding back for a very long time.
he let out a long, heavy breath, his chest shuddering slightly under her head.
"can i tell you something?" he whispered into the shadows, his voice dropping into a low, vulnerable rasp. "something i've never had the courage to say out loud?"
he didn't wait for her to answer, his hand coming down to gently squeeze her shoulder, drawing her just a fraction closer to him.
"i hated it," he confessed bluntly, the raw honesty in his voice cutting through the quiet room. "from the very first day, i absolutely hated that relationship you were in. every time i saw you with him, every time you spoke about him, it felt like a knife twisting right in my gut."
he paused, his fingers tightening slightly in her hair as the memory brought back a faint echo of that old, suffocating frustration.
"it wasn't just because i wanted you for myself—even though god knows i did," he murmured, leaning down to press his lips gently against the top of her head. "it was because i had to sit back and watch what it was doing to you. i saw the way it was draining your light, the way you were constantly carrying this heavy, quiet sadness around. i was so sick of it. i was so damn tired of seeing you suffer for someone who didn't even deserve to breathe the same air as you."
a soft, self-deprecating chuckle escaped his lips, a confession of his own desperation.
"i've never been a manipulative man, sweetheart... but with him, i swear i lost my mind sometimes. there were moments where i did everything i could think of, entirely on purpose, just to push the two of you apart. i'd drop hints, i'd create excuses to keep you away from him, i'd do whatever little things i could just to make that relationship crumble. i didn't care if it made me look bad in the dark. i just wanted it to end. i wanted you out of that prison so i could finally give you the happiness you deserved."
the silence stretched out between them, thick with the weight of everything they had finally laid bare. as michael’s confession hung in the shadows, a strange, heavy realization settled over both of them.
they had been trapped in a beautiful, chaotic cycle, spinning around each other for months. in their own way, they had been almost mutually toxic.
she had kept him at arm's length, intentionally reducing their deep, undeniable connection to fleeting, casual encounters—unintentionally torturing him with a calculated emotional distance just to build a fortress around her fractured heart. and he, driven by a desperate, suffocating need to save her, had crossed lines he never thought he’d cross, manipulating circumstances behind the scenes and letting his fierce jealousy bleed into pure possessiveness tonight against the wall.
but as she lay there listening to the steady, reassuring beat of his heart, they both understood the dark truth of it: every toxic move, every sharp edge, and every mind game had been born from a place of desperate survival. it was a twisted, backwards way of protecting one another. she had been trying to shield them both from a repeat of her tragic past, and he had been trying to tear down her prison walls before the misery could completely destroy her light.
"we really put each other through hell, didn't we?" she whispered into the dark, her voice trembling slightly as she tightened her grip on his torso, finally acknowledging the beautiful madness of how they had fought to survive.
michael let out a soft, rough sigh, his long fingers tracing gentle patterns along her spine as he pulled her even closer into his chest.
"maybe we did, sweetheart," he murmured against her hair, his voice dropping into a tender, unconditional promise. "but it was only because i couldn't let you drown. we don't have to fight like that anymore. we're on the same side now."
she lifted her head from his chest slightly, her eyes searching his face in the dim light of the bedroom. the tears had finally stopped, but her gaze was still fragile, carrying the heavy remnant of all those months of fear.
"can i really do it, michael?" she whispered, her voice small and tentative, breaking the quiet safety of the blankets. "can i really just start a completely new page... without constantly looking over my shoulder, without always worrying about my past ruining everything?"
michael didn't answer with words right away. instead, he shifted closer, his long fingers gently cupping the side of her face to tilt her head up. he leaned down and pressed his lips to hers in a deep, slow kiss. it wasn't like the desperate, frantic kisses from earlier against the wall; this one was tender, incredibly soft, and filled with a quiet, solid reassurance that seemed to pour directly into her soul.
when he finally pulled back just a fraction, his lips were still brushing against hers as he spoke, his breath warm and certain.
"yes," he murmured, his voice a steady, unbreakable promise in the dark. "yes, you can, sweetheart. the past doesn't get a say in this room anymore. we're writing the rest of the story together."
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