Pairing: Princess!reader and Knight!Clark Kent 18+
Tags/warnings: nsfw!!!, female reader, oral (f receiving), fingering, p in v, unprotected sex, finish inside, dom/switch Clark if you squint, slight hair pulling, no y/n
Word count: 3.2k
Note: I kinda got carried away from this one, but I’m a strong believer that Clark is a service top who worships you !! and looks at you like you created the world !!
part two here
“I’m so bored, Clark” you whine, stomping your foot and huffing. The knight barely spared a glance at you before keeping watch at his post as your personal bodyguard.
“There's plenty of books, princess. Would you like me to grab you one?” He asked.
“I told you to call me by my first name, we are close like that, Clark.” The name sounded like a purr out of your mouth and he fought back a chill.
Clark didn't respond after that. He took his job very seriously, as the only knight entrusted to protect the King’s most beloved daughter during this tumultuous period. With many enemies lurking outside and within the palace walls, the King couldn't take any chances. And as the best and strongest Knight, Clark was assigned you. While others didn’t know he possessed superhuman strength and abilities, he liked to serve the kingdom and act as protector when others threatened his home and the people in it. It felt like a stab to get assigned to be the babysitter, but he didn’t complain and tried to find the positive. It was hard with such an unruly princess.
You liked the look of Clark. You were upset when your father banished you to your room and with a bodyguard, but it all suddenly became okay when you saw who would be guarding you. A tall, broad man with kind eyes. You were excited at the possibilities, but the man was strict in his professionalism, not even entertaining much of your questions. A pretty face cannot blind me from facing what this is, you thought, a prison.
“I want to go out.” You pouted. After getting no response you straightened your back and put on your best strong, in-charge voice. “Take me outside.”
Clark continued to ignore you as he stayed at the window, overlooking the palace garden, which was busy with people walking too and fro. He envied them slightly. He was desperate to go far away and fly for a while, to stretch his muscles.
“Ugh! I never get anything, I must be the most unfortunate soul in the entire kingdom!” You threw your hands at him and pushed him, but the big Knight didn't even sway. A grunt of frustration led to you stomping towards the door. How dare they keep you locked away? You weren't a child anymore, and there was no real threat. You were about to the door when the Knight appeared in front of you.
“You can't leave this room, princess.” He said, his broad shoulders blocking the door.
“I can handle myself! There is no real danger, and even if there was then I could handle it!” You shouted at his stoic face.
“Princess,” he says calmly, “you wouldn't be able to fight someone who was coming to kill you.”
“Yes I can. I have sparred a few times with the knights and won!” You scoffed. Clearly he was unaware of your skill.
“That's because they let you win.” His eyes bore into yours with uninterest, making you more and more upset.
“Let's fight then, right now.” Your anger blurred the fact that he was much bigger than you, stronger than you. All you saw was a way to escape your room, and you were ready to take it.
“I won't fight a princess, I'll hurt you.” Clark's eyes were genuine then.
“Stop calling me princess and fight. Me.” you sneered, jabbing his chest plate with your finger. “If I win, I get to leave, unchaperoned. If you win, I'll give you anything you want.”
He looked you up and down slowly. Like his eyes were dragging, catching on every tug and fold of your fabric. It made you warm as you fought the urge to squirm under his gaze. After what felt like hours but was only seconds, he met your eyes. A dark look in them.
“Alright.”
You backed up, adrenaline starting to thrum under your skin. You got in a fighting position, or at least your best guess. Your feet firmly planted on the plush carpet of your room, your hands balled in front of your face.
Clark stood across from you in the same position, and it irritated you that he didn't move at all. His hands still hung by his side as his eyes tracked your movement.
“W-why are you looking at me like that?” You hated the way you stammered, but his gaze was warm on your skin.
“Just assessing my enemy.”
Clark removed his gear and took hard, purposeful steps towards you. You back up a few before deciding to go for it. Your instincts kick in, if you could call it that, and you swing at his head.
The Knight moves to the side and your momentum has you toppling slightly forward. His hand comes out to grip the collar on the back of your dress to pull you upright. You attack him again and again, but still he just sidesteps you.
“Is that the best you can do?”
“You're really pissing me off right now.” you growl, turning to face him.
“If you're mad, princess, why don't you use your anger.”
The comment made you see red, your freedom within your grasp. You swing your hand at his head.
His arm comes up and blocks it easily, gripping your forearm and not letting go. You pull back, your eyebrows furrowing at the strength. You couldn't budge even a little bit in his grasp.
No worries, you think, I have another hand. Your other hand comes to his head, but is again thwarted. You let out a frustrated sound before you start to kick, your dress limiting your movement. The Knight took your momentum and swung his leg underneath yours.
Down the two of you go, Clark is sure to soften your blow to the ground. With his hands on your wrists he pins you to the floor. You still try to swing your legs, but he shoves his knee between your legs, rendering your legs useless.
“Ugh! You're so infuriating!” You continue to struggle. The Knight presses his hands into your wrists and his hips to yours. Even when you try to wiggle out, you can't move.
Clark stares at you, looking over all your facial features. He's so close you can feel the heat of his breath fanning your face. His hands feel warm on your skin, and his hips pressing into yours. The sensation was new and it made you ache. From wanting more or less you weren't sure, but it made your hips buckle.
“You're…really close right now” you squirmed under his eye contact, avoiding his gaze. Clark could see your cheeks get redder and redder, and focused on your lips you were unconsciously biting.
“G-get off of me” you squirmed. Clark didn't realize he lifted off you slightly until you squirmed, your center pressing against his as you unintentionally grinded on him.
You're Knight groaned above you.
It paused your movements. It was a deep, manly groan that reminded you exactly what was on top of you. A fully grown male, on top of you, a weak and spoiled princess.
You realized what had happened in that moment. You were hunted, like prey. You didn't know if you would be killed or something else entirely, and your pulse was fast. He was watching the pulse on your neck, his eyes lasered in on the quickness of it. His eyes darkened. Maybe it was the thought of being prey, or some animal instinct kicking in, but you bared your neck slightly and shut your eyes.
Clark leans into your neck, but stops just shy of it. His breath tickles you and it makes you ache down there. Your chest heaves and he watches your chest rise and fall, your breasts pushed up from your corset.
“I think you've lost, princess.”
You whimper at that, the words hot against your skin. Your body presses into his, chasing an unfamiliar pleasure. It's overwhelming and yet not enough at the same time.
Your Knight looks down at you. You're shaking slightly, eyes screwed shut as if the sight of him was overwhelming. He watches your pulse point and fought the urge to bite it. Instead, he leans closer and gathers just a little of his powers and blows cold air on your neck. You whimper at the feeling, goosebumps spreading across your skin.
“Tell me to stop and I will.” His voice is strained. “I won't go any further than this. If you don't, then…” he trails off, moving from your neck to your collarbone. His hips press into your firmly, making you moan out loud.
“I will take my prize, princess.”
Waiting for your response felt like torture. You lay still for a moment before opening your eyes. They found his, hooded and with desire.
You crane your neck to meet your lips together. They clashed hard and fast in a desperate bid for connection. Your Knight groaned and bucked his hips at the feeling of the kiss.
You fought against his restraint and he dropped your arms, his resolve not allowing himself to deny you anything. They went around his neck, pulling him impossibly closer. Clark bit your lip and you moaned, tangling your fingers in his curly hair.
While one hand kept himself up from crushing you, the other went to position himself better between your legs, which wrapped around him. Clark let out a strangled noise at the movement. He felt himself strain against his pants.
He broke the kiss and rose to his knees. He thought you looked beautiful then, hair tossed around you as you lay on your back, lips red and swollen as you looked up to him with need. You made a wounded sound at the loss of heat.
Your Knight took his two large hands and lay them flat on your chest, dragging them down your body slowly. Heat followed his fingertips as they trailed lower and lower. He found the hem of your dress and yanked it to your hips and moaned at the sight of you bare and wet.
“Princess,” he says with a strain as his fingers grip your thighs “why are you not wearing underwear?”
“Well, uh-” you stutter as you try to cover yourself. He stops your hands from moving your dress. “I’ve just been in my room, I didn’t see a point.”
Your Knight can’t seem to take his eyes away from your wet, dripping pussy, watching it clench around nothing. It causes a pained moan to leave him, the sight too much for him to bear. With a trembling hand he strokes the inside of your thigh, causing you to shift. You felt embarrassed being so much on display for him while he was still fully dressed.
“Clark” you moaned. “Yes, princess?” He purred, unable to draw his eyes away. You whined in response, not really sure what you are asking for. Your hips tilted up.
“It’s okay, I’ve got you.” He cooed, moving his hand up to your center. He swipes the pad of his finger through your folds, collecting the wetness before putting it in his mouth. Clark moaned before he even tasted it, just the smell enough to set him off, but oh how divine you tasted.
“If it ever becomes too much or uncomfortable, just let me know, okay?”
You nod as he kept eye contact with you, a desperate look in his eyes. He lowered his face until it was level with your pussy, and without realizing it, you held your breath as you waited for what was to happen next. Clark’s hands bunched the fabric at your waist as he licked a stripe up your folds, collecting as much of your essence as he could. A wanton moan left your mouth as your back arched. Your hands found his hair as he continued. It wasn’t long until his mouth found your clit, and he gave a tentative suck to test the waters.
It was a sensation you had never felt before, and it was so overwhelmingly good and too much. Your fingernails dug into his scalp as you pulled him deeper, resulting in a moan from the man. He lapped from you like you were the fountain of life and he had an unquenchable thirst. You could do nothing but writhe, mercy to what he did to you.
You didn’t even notice when his finger prodded your entrance, too lost in the sensation of his tongue, and producing so much wetness that the tip of his finger slid in easily. However, past the first knuckle you started to feel the pressure.
“Wait, Clark, I’m not sure-” you cut yourself off with a moan as the finger went deeper.
“Shh, it’s okay, let me take care of you.”
His finger started slow, letting you get comfortable with the stretch. Once your moans got louder, he pushed another finger in. His cock was leaking from how tight you felt, barely even able to fit his fingers. He had to stop himself from imagining how you would suffocate his cock.
“Clark, I need -” you didn’t really know what you needed, but you needed something more.
“I know what you need princess, don’t you worry.” The next time his fingers pressed fully in, he curled them inside you, hitting the gummy spot at the top of your walls. He kept massaging that spot, making you feel a deep, building sensation. He kept a fast pace on your clit, licking it and moaning as you lost control. You could feel your stomach drop.
“Clark, it’s too much-”
“No it’s not, just let go. It’s supposed to feel like that.” He cooed. He ground his cock on the floor, providing some temporary relief to his aching cock.
The Knight’s words combined with his skillful fingers and tongue brought you to orgasm, and it hit you hard. Your thighs clenched around Clark’s head as your fingers pulled his hair to bring him closer to you. Your back arched as you threw your head back, seeing stars as you rode it out on his tongue. Clark was moaning too, as if your orgasm was his orgasm. The sight of you reaching your peak was overwhelming, but he couldn’t look away.
You eventually pushed him off, the attention too much on your poor clit. His face came away from your pussy and you saw him, looking like a starved man. His hair was in disarray, his chin covered in you, and a wild and hungry look in his eyes. He sat up and pulled you closer to him. His hard center connected with yours and your eyes widened. Looking down you could see the outline and the wet patch he created.
Clark didn’t waste any time taking off his pants. You watched in awe as he revealed himself, choking back your surprise at how big he is. Clark nestled himself between your thighs, laying his cock on the top of your pussy. He knows he will be able to see himself inside you, but he wanted you to see it. The sight of how deep he will be inside you made his dick twitch and leak pre-cum on your stomach.
“Tell me you want it, please” Your Knight begged, a soothing hand rubbing up and down your thigh. Clark positioned himself at your entrance, not yet pushing in. His hand gripped the base of his cock as he flicked his eyes up to you. You looked at the man before you, who looked ready to break down if he didn’t get inside you, and it made your stomach twist. You nodded, very slightly, but Clark saw it.
Slowly he pushed the tip of himself inside, whispering sweet encouragement to you. His eyes remain glued on where your two bodies met. When he popped his mushroom head inside he stilled, looking up to you to make sure you are adjusting well. He thrusts shallowly with the tip, letting you get adjusted.
You moan in discomfort at the adjustment. You had never had anything inside you, and you briefly wondered if this was ever supposed to feel good. The stretch was too much and you worked to catch your breath when Clark had stilled in you. With him now moving, the pain had transitioned without you even noticing, until your body started craving more. You moaned his name again, reaching out to him.
“You want more, princess? I can give you more, don’t you worry.” He pushed himself in deeper and deeper.
Once his hips met with yours, his head dropped to your shoulder. He fought the urge to finish right then, your pussy was gripping him so tightly. You were so tight it should be painful for him, and when he went to pull out, it was like you were trying to drag him back in.
“Fuck princess, you feel so good. You’re taking me so well. God I can feel you gripping me, like you’re trying to milk me.” This made your walls clench, which made him choke on his own breath. “Don’t do that, I don’t want to finish too fast.”
His thrusts were slow at first as he watched your face, waiting for you to fully give in to the pleasure. Once he was sure you were not in pain, he picked up the pace. Your moans were loud in his ears, a series of pants, his name, and gibberish as you became cock drunk. His big hand covered your mouth when he thrusted faster, his balls slapping your ass with each thrust. He was so deep it was like you could feel him in your stomach.
With his free hand, Clark gently pulled your hair so you could watch as he pistoned in and out of you. You moaned at the sight of him disappearing into you, watching your belly bulge when he was fully inside you. It had you feeling a certain way when he was deep inside you, it was like you needed more than your small body could take.
“Clark, please-”
“What do you need, princess. Anything in the world and it’s yours” He said, his voice full of devotion.
“Deeper”
A growl left his throat. He sat up a little and pushed your thighs down into your body, reaching even deeper into you. You could feel his cock bruising your cervix and kissing your womb. Having him this deep made you forget everything else, even your name. All you could think about was chasing that high.
“Clark, I’m close.” You manage to whimper, mouth hung open as you watch him. His eyebrows were knitted together as he watched your stomach bulge every time he fully entered. His hand left your thigh and came to your clit, rubbing quick and fast circles on it.
“You look so pretty, taking me so well. I was made for you, to make you feel this good all the time. Whenever you want to feel this good, you can take me, it’s all yours.” It sounded like he was worshiping you, like he was the one unworthy of your attention.
Your Knight’s words brought you to the edge and you toppled over it, your climax hitting you hard. Your pussy squeezed his cock, gushing cum onto his cock as he continued to chase his high. He thought about how his whole purpose is to serve you, and that he will do whatever you want him to do.
He buried himself deep inside you and came, the tip of his cock pressed against your cervix and his cum warm. He placed a hand on your stomach as he thrusted through his high, still remaining deep inside you. Your name was on his tongue like a prayer as he finished, his face buried in your neck. Your pussy milked him, as if it was determined to get every last drop, and Clark was happy to give it all to you.
You looked up at him, feeling full and warm, with a lazy smile. He looked at you with wonder in his eyes, as if he was seeing a legendary creature.
“Did you like your prize?” You asked, closing your eyes as exhaustion threatened to take over. Clark didn’t move, keeping you plugged full of his cum as he pet your hair.
have we considered you grabbing the headboard while riding it? his hands gripping your waist and you gripping the headboard for leverage going from slow experimental strokes of your hips, to slamming your pussy down around his cock over and over, while he curses and moans loudly and your tits bounce in his face ??
cock warming but they press a vibrator to your clit, making you cum over and over and over again until they end up cumming from the sensation of your muscles pulsing and spasming around them alone.
thinking about how easy michael is, i perceive him as someone who just lets women do anything to him. he enjoys being in the presence of women so much, and is so appreciative that he’s allowed in their space. some may find it jarring, even times aggressive, but he loves it. so getting with a woman that knows what she wants and isn’t afraid to take it is a huge turn on for him me thinks.
pulling and grabbing at his collar whenever you need to lead him somewhere, getting pulled by his belt when you want him in your air. getting manhandled by a woman in general i believe is his dream, he really enjoys it. his girlfriend stealing kisses from him, jaw in hand, his cheeks squished, and he’s delighted to return the smooch. a toothy grin crawling amongst his lips.
cheeks kisses, getting pulled and yanked around, if he’s not paying attention you’re grabbing his face to look at you and he eats it up. there’s a glimmer in his eye, and it’s not always necessarily lustful. you can’t quite put your finger on it, but you know his eyes twinkle whenever you takes control of him. balling his shirt up in your fist, getting swatted at playfully, his clothes getting tugged on. he likes being bullied! playfully ofc
he flirts and plays around as well. fiddling with your clothes, a bra strap falling down your shoulder and he’s hooking and pulling his finger around it so it can snap against your skin, and you’re shooing him away. toying with your clothes as well, pulling at a skirt, or putting his hand up your shirt to briefly tickle your tummy. he’s really boyish in his approach to flirting but it’s still charming in a way. he never comes off creepy, more like he’s just genuinely having a good time teasing.
if he’s eating little gummy candies or popcorn he’s tossing little pieces at you, and when your frown with annoyance he thinks it’s the funniest thing in the world.
likes to teasingly pinch at your hips, and allegedly he’s a thigh wanderer. god forbid your bare legs are exposed, what was once a innocent tap on the knee has somehow turned into him blatantly feeling up your thigh. any you let him!
and he likes to steal cheek kisses as well, and he’s always staring your mouth, or overly staring with a bitten lip. rightttt
❛ dangerous era!michael jackson 𝑥 fan!reader ❜ ᛝྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀི you send michael letters never thinking much of it until the two of you end up growing close.
𐔌 ݁ 𓂃 ⓘ content ﹕ super feel good fluff, warning may cause heart to ache or feet to kick ok ok bye
May 6, 1993
Dear Applehead,
Hi applehead! It's babyface :) I know it’s been a while since I’ve last wrote. I want you to know I did receive your letters.
I’ve actually read them so many times that the corners are beginning to bend.
The one where you told me about feeding the animals made me laugh. I can practically hear you telling the story in my head. My mom thinks I’m ridiculous because every time a letter arrives, I disappear into my room for an hour and come back smiling.
I hope you’ve been taking care of yourself. I know you’re always busy and traveling somewhere new every week. Sometimes I see photos of you in magazines and wonder if you’re exhausted. You always look happy, but I know pictures don’t tell the whole story.
Things here have been pretty ordinary. University has been boring as usual. I spend most afternoons reading, listening to music, and waiting for the mailman to come down our street. I think he knows me by name now.
You asked me what my favorite place is, and I think it’s the little park near my house. There’s a bench beside a pond where I sit when I need to think. Listen to the birds chirping or the frogs croaking, even the crickets if I go late at night. Sometimes I bring one of your letters with me and read it there. It sounds silly when I write it down, but somehow it feels like talking to a friend.
Thank you for writing back all this time. I know there are millions of people who would love to hear from you, so the fact that you take the time to write to me means more than you’ll ever know.
Anyway, I should probably stop before this turns into another five-page letter.
Write back when you can.
Your friend,
Babyface.
P.S. I still think you should learn how to take a day off once in a while.
P.P.S. I know you’re probably rolling your eyes right now.
michael held the long awaited piece of paper between his fingertips as he read your letter over and over. he did indeed roll his eyes at the last part, before huffing a small laugh out of his nose because of course you knew. it had been months since he last heard from you. he thought maybe it was because he wasn’t home for a while or that you had been busy with school. either way, he was so excited to see the envelope with your name on it.
he had connected with millions of fans and yet you were the one that stood out. your first letter to michael consisted of telling him how much his music moved you, how much of an impact and influence he had on you and a little bit about your personal life. how you had grown up with an alcoholic father who was physically violent. michael seen himself in you and had to write back immediately. well, after a year and a half of writing back to back, exchanging photographs—you sent him one of you and your cat and a detail that stood out to him was the slight baby fat stored in your face that made your cheeks extra plump, which is what caused him to give you the nickname ‘babyface’ and even giving you his personal p.o. box specially for your letters, you two had grown exceptionally close. so close, in one letter michael had included his personal phone number for the two of you to be able to talk more often.
that first phone call was the most nerve wracking. your stomach jumped, turned and flipped as you hesitantly dialed the numbers in your home phone. all you kept wondering was how his voice would sound, what he would say. everything and anything was running through your mind. it took you a good thirty minutes before even deciding to push the call button. and after 3 rings the line finally clicked.
“hello?” said the familiar voice you’d hear through your headphones, but his speaking voice wasn’t as high pitched as you were expecting it to be. it was about an octave lower than what you were used to. hearing his voice made your heart fall to the bottom of your stomach though and it wasn’t some fan freak out, it was because now it felt real. instead of reading ink on a page like a book, you got to hear his tone in which how he said certain words or how he paused whenever he had to stop and think of what he’s saying.
“hi. it’s babyface.” your voice was quite small at first, just jumbled with nerves. you twisted the coil of the cord as you conversed, it was the only thing that helped you focus on his voice instead of your nerves.
“babyface!” he exclaimed over the line, “ahh, i’ve been waiting for your call.” was he really? it was so anomalous to believe that he was waiting for you. that first phone call, you two sat and talked and laughed for what felt like eternity but was really three-ish hours. and when you saw how long you sat on the line for, you couldn’t believe it. speaking with him just felt so nice, you felt like he could’ve been the only person in the world who understood you.
“i should probably let you go.” you laughed quietly, glancing over at the clock sitting on your nightstand.
there was a brief static of silence in your ear which made your stomach turn a bit.
“already?” michael said, almost a bit of a whine caught in his tone.
the disappointment in his voice caught you completely off guard but it made you smile to yourself.
“applehead, it’s been three hours.”
“has it?” the innocent playfulness showing through his voice.
“yes.” you replied, phone stuck between your shoulder as you reached for your glass of water.
there was another pause between you two before michael’s voice rang through once again.
“huh.”
you couldn’t help but laugh and neither could he.
the conversation continued for another few minutes, neither one of you really saying anything important anymore. the topics had long since run dry, yet neither of you seemed willing to be the first one to hang up.
eventually, the silence settled comfortably between the two of you.
“goodnight, babyface.”
the nickname made your heart do that familiar little flip yet you shook your head.
“goodnight, michael.”
another pause of silence.
“sleep good, okay?” his voice soft and low now.
“you too.”
and yet neither one of you decided to hang up which caused you to smile despite yourself.
“bye, michael.”
“bye, babyface.”
this time the line finally clicked.
you stared at the receiver for a moment before slowly placing it back on the hook. somehow, saying goodbye to him felt harder than calling him in the first place.
DISCLAIMERS: This is not an accurate portrayal of anyone depicted in the story. I do not know these people. It's strictly a work of fiction.
PAIRING: Michael Jackson x Fem!Reader.
GENRES: Angst (sorry, it's my speciality.)
SUMMARY: Working tirelessly on his upcoming album, Michael Jackson starts to neglect the one person actually worthy of his attention. It isn't long before the cracks of their realtionship begin to form and emotions run high. Cancelled dinner dates turn into him just blatantly standing her up. He doesn't mean it, of course, but the damage is already set in motion. An argument ensues, he says words he does mean and maybe his ignorance will be their downfall.
WARNINGS: Angst. That's all I think.
WORD COUNT: 4.2k (relatively short for me.)
Another night, another disappointment. She supposed it might have been her own fault this time. Didn't someone smart once define madness was doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results? Sometimes things didn't change and the wises choice was to accept that they wouldn't.
Hours of waiting just to be thrust into the cold reality of always feeling like second best. She'd wasted her time so foolishly, so innocent in her pursuit to make her lover happy, just for all that effort to crumble under the weight of being forgotten.
She had known he'd been stressed. Finishing up any album was hard, but when you're categorised as the biggest artist on the planet, there was an added layer of pressure where you couldn't afford to let the ball drop. Michael knew it.
People had expected greatness from him, others had been patiently waiting for his downfall so that they could turn around and say 'I told you so.' In that mocking kind of taunt that would haunt his darkest nights. As a perfectionist, one of his biggest fears was rejection, so he had spent all his time locked away in the studio, working on melodies, harmonies and vocals.
Whatever it was, he'd been gone and it wasn't only the physical aspect, she could feel him emotionally withdrawing too.
This morning, she'd been brave enough to voice his concern ― waking just before his alarm chriped so she could catch him before he left.
At first, she'd noticed it, the way his eyes kept falling back to the clock, checking the tedious minutes at they passed by with aching precision. He'd felt ambushed and he'd told her so. For a moment, she's almost let it go, seeing the frustration swimming in the depths of those doe-eyes she'd fallen in love with, but then she'd realised if this kind of thing continued, she'd lose him for good.
So with a new sense of determination, she built up the courage to tell him how she'd felt, how she knew his work was important, but she missed him, she missed the two of them together, she didn't want to lose him.
She'd watched as the icy resolve of his face melted away, he'd brought her into his warm embrace and kissed her forehead, promising he would do better, that he would make more time, swearing that he would never allow himself to make her feel that way again. Seeing her upset hurt him too and he didn't want that for their realtionship.
With a firece persistence, Michael had swore to her that he would finish early in the studio today, no later than 7 pm so that they could spend quality time together in the evening, completely alone, without any talk of studio stress of lyric dilemmas.
Naivety made a fool out of her, because she'd actually believed him. Sending him away with a soft kiss and a longing, "see you soon."
But soon never came.
All she had wanted to do was spend time in his company and cheer him up. She'd gone through so much effort to make things perfect for him. Now standing alone in their home, dressed to the nines as the clock reached midnight, she wished she hadn't bothered.
She should've known better than to get her hopes up.
It was only last week she planned a romantic picnic under the stars in the dazzling acres Neverland provided them with, but last minute, he had called from the studio and cancelled.
His promise to her was broken, but he assured that he would make it up to her. That somehow only furthered her issue.
His excuse?
He'd promised the studio musicians they could grab a quite bite to eat before settling back in the studio to power through a particular tricky hook.
Even though she was excited for some quality time with Michael and felt the burning twinge of disappointment settle, she had kept calm, she'd let it go, for his sake more than her own.
His job was demanding, she knew that so she decided to be the bigger person and with a shaking breath, she told him it was okay. Over the phone, she heard his smile as he leaned over the landline with a cheerful, "you're wonderful."
She certainly hadn't felt that way.
Had he made it up to her?
On some level, she supposed he had the intent. With a pleading promise to spend the day after sweeping her off her feet, Michael insisted she be ready by 8 pm and had called at lunchtime just to remind her.
Genuinely excitment swarmed in the pit of her stomach. Michael had a way of making her feel so cared for when he actually put in the effort, which is probably why the ache of his absence felt so raw when he wasn't around.
With a new found perspective, she'd cheerfully dolled herself up for him, even going to far as to use one of her least perfumes simply because she knew he adored it.
But when the clock reached 11:30 pm and there was still no sign of him, she was hit with a wall of exhaustion. He wasn't going to show and she'd been too tired to scream her frustration.
All that time she had spent getting ready for the day had ultimately been pointless. So as she stepped out of the little black dress and wiped the make up away, she watched her reflection in the mirror and wondered if this was how her life was destined to play out for as long as she lived.
It was some time after 3 am when he graced her with his presence. She had felt the bed dip beneath him as he climed under the sheets. His arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her back to his chest while she kept her composure in an attemp to fake being asleep.
He hadn't noticed.
She hadn't wanted to talk to him that night. She couldn't. They rarely argued, but when they did, they were both left deverstated. So like always, she swallowed her pride and let it go.
The next morning, he's explained his absence from the night before while he changed, already on his way out the door.
Apparently one of the studio engineers had been distracted and messed up one of his recordings. Michael had insisted that he would go back in the booth and sing over and over again until he could replace the one vocal take he had actually considered to be up to standard.
Understanding his frustration, she had accepted his half hearted apology and let her anger fade away.
At first, she's been willing to let it slide. Mistakes happen once in a while, but when those mistakes turn into routine, she knew it couldn't let it continue.
It wasn't like she was asking for much. She didn't want to go anywhere. She'd have been thrilled to have dinner at home, so long as Michael was there, the location didn't matter.
She'd have never imagined she could miss the very person she lived with.
The clock now chimed midnight. A brand new day would start to bloom soon and still, she sat pathetically in the wreckage that was her hope for their realtionship.
How many times did she have to sit alone before she realised, she would never be his priority?
Like a fool, she's planned a whole romantic night in. He's promised he'd be back, that they could shared an entire evening in each other's company and she'd vigorously planned for it, even going so far as to phone his mother to kindly ask for the recipe for one of his favourite childhood meals. Katherine had been gracious enough to comply.
Sure, he had a personal chef, but she wanted to make something special for him. So with a new lease of life, she had spent hours trying to form the perfect, stress free night for him.
Through the halls of the ranch, the classic cadence of Debussy bounced off the walls, quite in tone, but setting the perfect ambience of what she hoped would be the building blocks of trust reformed.
She'd planned it all out. Dinner, dessert, maybe even a movie if he was feeling upto it. They could sit in the cinema room, holding each other like they used to when they first started dating.
But once again, nothing went according to plan. The mocking chimes of the clock taunted her, poking fun at the time and effort she'd wasted yet again and so for a final time, she felt the fight leave her body.
She gave up.
He wasn't going to be home anytime soon.
The candles she'd lit had long since burnt out, leaving the only source of light to be that of a silvery wash of color the moon generously provided through the open window.
Ironic that one thing they used to watch in awe together now became a becon of sorrow in the foundations they'd laid.
With a disappointed shake of her head, she looked down at the cold plate on the table and picked her own up. With more grace than she possessed, she crossed the floor and threw the untouched food in the trash. It wasn't like she had much of an appetite now anyway. Michael's reamined stiff on the dining room table, she knew he'd be hungry when he returned.
Following the all too familiar path to their bedroom, she wasted no time. The aching sense of deja vu ripped through her as she removed her make up and changed into a set of comfortable, silk pyjamas. This time when she looked at herself in the mirror, she just laughed.
How much sadness could one person take before they broke beyond recognition?
While exhaustion ached her bones, she decided against allowing the sweet embrace of slumber claim her as it's own tonight. They had to confront this head on if this realtionship had any chance at survival. She would stay awake all night if she had to.
Making her way back down the stairs with a new goal in mind, she cuddled up on the sofa with her latest purchase from the book store and tried her absolute hardest to calm the racing beat of her heart.
The clock handles were nearing 4:05 am when the sound of the front door opening creaked through the silence. Half way finished with her book by now, but understanding she would have to reread since her mind was otherwise preoccupied, she barley flinched as his heavy footsteps grew near. He stopped only once to remove his shoes before making his way into the living room.
There, he came to a sudden and unexpected halt, dark eyes settled on the familiar sight of his girlfriend, sitting in the corner of the sofa with a book clutched in her grasp, but her eyes focused steadily on him.
"Nice to know you remember where you live." Were the only words she dared to utter before she placed the soft cream blanket she'd been using to keep herself warm on the arm of the sofa and leaving for the stairs with book in hand.
It was then Michael knew he had well and truly messed up.
She never screamed or shouted. It was one of the many reasons he adored her so much. She hated conflict as much as he did. If they fought, which was a rarity in itself, she would always manage to keep her compsure and remain calm.
After witnessing the sadness clouding her tired eyes, he didn't know if that still rang true. He'd upset her so much, she verged on angry.
It wasn't his intention, of course. He had never wanted to hurt her. She'd been one of the few people that offered him peace in the crazy uncertainty of his life. She'd loved him through it all and he loved her right back, he just lost himself sometimes and that was more evident in the early hours of the morning than it had ever been before.
It wasn't as though he was viciously ignoring their dates nights on purpose, they just seemed to constantly slip from his mind. Time in the studio moved different than it did in the outside world. So caught up with finding the right sound, he would forget his own name had it not been called so frequently.
Still, it was no excuse. He knew that. Having been a constant source of comfort in his life, he'd failed to show just how much she meant to him and with cripping disappointment, Michael found himself shaking his head at his own actions. He knew he could be forgetful, but he hadn't realised how idiotic his actions were.
Pushing dark hair from his eyes, he allowed himself a couple of seconds to take a few deep breaths before he walked upstairs, following the same path his love had hiked only moments before.
He found her exactly where he thought he would. Sitting cooly on her side of the bed. Only she wasn't under the covers and showed no signs of wanting to sleep. She wanted to talk and he knew it.
Selfishly, part of him wished she wasn't so rational. Maybe if she screamed at him, he wouldn't feel so damn guilty for being the one who constantly let her down.
He called her name, soft and with intent. She barley looked at him. With the corners of his mouth fell into a frown, he caredully walked to her side of the bed and crouched down, taking her now free hands in his own and stoking her knuckles with the pads of his thumbs.
"Come on, mama." He tried, in hopes the pet name would soften her. It didn't. "I'm sorry. Will you let me explain?"
Finally illiciting a response, a heavy sigh passed through her lips. She'd heard that phrase one too many times recently and she didn't know if she could handle another vague excuse.
Still, she deserved to know why he'd rejected her company for what felt like the millionth time in the past two months. So after weighing up her options, she pulled her hands from his and brought her knees up to her chest while responding with a small nod.
Getting ahead of himself, Michael felt himself smile upon her agreement, but that emotion soon fell when with the withdrawl of her hand. He noticed traces of sadness etched across her face and he instantly wanted nothing more than to pull her into his arms and keep her sheltered from any harm.
He'd done this. He was the one responsible for the sorrow she felt and it hit him like a truck.
Despite wanting to rationalise the night and the mishaps that lead him to him being late yet again, he'd be lying if he said he wasn't exhausted too.
The ability to form words was suddenly lost to him and Michael sat there, looking up at her through dark lashes, willing his mind to catch up to the severity of the situation.
"Are you going to stand there with your mouth open all day or are you actually going to explain?" She spoke monotone and the lack of emotion in her voice only further scared him.
The frown lines on his face only became more pronounced the longer she stared at him, but he quickly shook away his fear and willed himself to speak.
"You know studio time is really precious right now. We're really in the midst of something great. I can feel it." He started, hands gesturing with each word he spoke. "I think we're almost done, so long as we can keep this pace up."
The words should have excited her. After all, the recording sessions were the biggest factor into his absence, but not the only one. All she heard as he spoke was that he would be spending even more time away from her.
She knew how he acted with album cycles. Nothing was ever good enoigh and he worked himself to the bone to try and achieve a realm of perfection that didn't exist.
So yes, the album might be close to being fully recorded, but he would keep going back to tweak things until he physically couldn't anymore.
Michael was never fully happy with an album. Even upon release, he would find some flaw in the art and he could never let it go.
As much as she wanted to congratulate him on all his hard work, it felt empty when the result of that time away had been the breakdown of their relationship.
"I've been so busy, so when we finished early today, someone suggested I let off steam. Teddy who owns the arcade close to the studio said he'd close it for me and some of the studio engineers." He spoke and it was honest, she knew it to be true. It wasn't the first time something like this had happened and it wouldn't be the last. "I guess I got distracted. I didn't realise the time until Bill mentioned it."
A simple explanation really. One that he hoped would calm her, but she was anything but calm. Her anger was working over time, something which didn't happen often. She always tried her absolute best to stay rational. She hated conflict, always had, but this entire situation was enough to boil her blood.
Not only was Michael available for dinner, but he had the choice to come home early. They could have spent most of the day together if he'd actually wanted it. Or at the very least, he could've had the curtesy to phone before he'd left so she wouldn't have wasted her time cooking for him.
She understood his life was a roller coaster most days and despite being in it, she would never fully understand the magnitude of the weight he felt crushing his shoulders.
At times, he needed to step back, breath and allow the child within him to take the front seat just for a little while.
She'd always loved that about him. His ability to enjoy the simple pleasures of life, like spending hours playing games in an arcade just because he could. She just wished she hadn't always been placed in the sidelines of his life in order for him to enjoy it.
At least she knew where she stood, she supposed.
Rolling her eyes to the back of her head, she finally allowed herself to catch his eye and cursed at the puppy dog look he gave so easy.
"I'm very happy for you, Michael. I'm glad you had a nice time." She spoke with a sarcastic bite, her eyes darked and her mouth settled into a permanent frown. "You could've at least called. I spent hours cooking, trying to recreate one of your mother's recipes. I'm so tired of being the last person to know your plans."
Guilt settled into his bones. He hadn't known the extend of the effort she'd been willing to go to in order to cheer him up.
Realising she wasn't getting any sleep any time soon, she scooted further up on the bed, arms circling her knees as she watched the frustration start to take place against the soft features she'd always been so enamoured with.
"Like I said, I'm sorry." He stood, wide eyes still focused on her. "I was a genuine mistake, it could happen to anyone."
"That's not fair." He snapped in defence, his kind, soft tone long gone by now. Michael wasn't a cruel man, but he certainly was defensive when he felt like he was being caged in. "Sometimes things just happen and I can't control it."
"Yeah, six days in a row." She scoffed, pulling at the loose thread of her pyjama top. "That's not even counting the amount of times you've cancelled on me within the last two months. It always is a genuine mistake with you, isn't it?"
"Right, like spending all night in an arcade." She scoffed. "I forgot what an obligation that was."
Michael couldn't help it now, he was in the wrong and he knew it, but admitting his fault was an entirely different story.
Pacing back and fourth, stubbornly running his long fingers through his hair, he turned towards her with narrowed eyes. "What was I supposed to do, huh? I've been working around the clock on this album. I needed to blow off some steam and a friend gave me a way of doing that. Did you expect me to turn that down just to eat some lousy meal with you? You're so selfish some times." There was a darkness to his tone, like he wanted to hurt her, but as soon as he said it, he wished more than anything to take it back.
The words settled heavy in the air and for a moment, neither of them so much as blinked.
His blood ran cold. He hadn't meant to say that, his frustrations had gotten the best of him and he'd taken it out on her. It wasn't his intention and as he noticed the crestfallen look on her face, he felt part of his heart crack as a result of his own pigheadedness.
Stepping towards her, he tried to reach for her shoulder. "Bab-"
"Don't." She snapped, expertly dodging his touch and climbing out of the bed, stumbling just out of reach.
The rapid thump of his heart ached, he could hear his pulse in his ears and regret build in layers. Subtle at first until he suddenly couldn't feel anything but painful remorse.
"It's not like I ask for much from you, Michael! I moved to a completely different state, had to find a brand new job, new friends. I rarely see my family and I've had to learn to keep my guard up with everyone around me in case they use me to try and target you. I did that because you asked me to." And as she said it, it wasn't an accusation. She'd done it willingly, but it didn't change the facts. "I'm so lonely and I never complain about it because I love you! But sure, I'm the selfish one here."
For the first time in their entire realtionship, her voice raised in volume and she'd be a fool not to notice the way his eyes grew in shock at the sound she produced. She hated it. She wasn't usually this way inclined and now she was even more miserable than she had been only moments ago when she was only furious at his late arrival.
Michael stayed quite, not daring to intrupt as he learnt something new. His heart ached at the confession. He hadn't known. She did a wonderful job at keeping her emotions in check while smoothing his own.
He listened as she continued, only this time, her voice lowered in volume and sadness stretched across her pretty face.
"I'm tired of feeling like I'm the only one making an effort and fighting to keep this relationship on track." She confessed, eyes glassy as her resolve broke. "You keep cancelling or worse, you don't show up at all and I've tried to stay calm, but it fucking hurts, Michael." As strong as she was, somethings were impossible to ignore and with that revelation, she allowed the tears to fall. "I have more of a relationship with your secretary's answering machine than I do with you these days."
"That's not true." A weak response, but he had nothing else to give.
"Yes, it is." She persisted, angrily wiping her damp cheeks with the sleeve of her shirt. "You're gone before I wake, you return when I'm already asleep. I'm not a priority to you anymore and I deserve to be trested as something more than an after thought."
The heavy weight of her truth came up to bite them both on the ass. This shouldn't have been the way things were between them. When they were happy, even paradise couldn't tempt them away. But things hadn't been that good for months now and denying it would only cause more hurt in the long run.
Mistaking his silence for hesitation, she gave up. Too tired and too tormented to stay up arguing anymore, she felt the fire leave her body.
"Y'know what? I really don't care anymore." She admitted, walking to the closet, she grabbed a jacket to place over her pyjamas to combat the icy chill of the night air.
"W-where are you going?" He stuttered, trying to reach for her again only to stumble back when she flinched.
"My car... a hotel, I don't know. Anywhere but here." She muttered, wishing more than anything she could stop the abyss of tears that continued to fall. "I don't want to be around you right now."
She'd never said anything like that to him before.
Michael was winded, the breath knocked right from his lungs and he wanted nothing more than that to fix this, but she was already reaching for the handle before his mind could catch up to the severity of the situation at hand.
"Oh, and that lousy meal I made for you is waiting on the table downstairs if you decide you're hungry."
And with that, she stepped out of their bedroom and closing the door tight behind her.
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(18+) 𓈒 ݁ ݂ imagine getting to be with michael backstage after his grammy performance in '88—his hair all frizzy and poofy, his body physically shaking from exhaustion, and his skin glistening with beads of sweat. he was gorgeous even when his body was beat and weak, it was so unfair.
you & him would be sitting all quiet in his dressing room, michael's quick panting being the only sound in the room. you came closer to help him with taking off some of his dripping makeup, smiling up at him while doing so. he'd attempt to take a few deep breaths, only for a few small coughs to conjure up in his throat.
after a few moments, he began expressing his disappointment in the event. not a single grammy for his new album that he put his own blood, sweat and tears into—it hurt his heart. and as his girlfriend, it hurt you even more to see your gorgeous man have to endure such a terrible emotion.
so, in an attempt to cheer him up, you decided to intervene. you interrupted him mid-rant, planting kisses on his cheek as he continued speaking. he smiled and shrugged off the first few kisses, but you grew hungrier and needier. your mouth travelled from his cheek to the corner of his mouth, and finally atop his moist lips, cutting him off from speaking completely.
he ultimately gave in, looking at himself in the standing mirror while you began to kiss his neck. his skin was still damp with sweat, but it made the action even hotter. he bit his lip watching you go to work in the mirror, his hands finding their way to your soft hips. your arms were thrown around his neck, your mouth feeling sweet as ever against his body. you roamed his neck slowly, your mouth being able to feel the small curly strands of hair slicked down to his skin.
he groaned under his breath, his loose ponytail beginning to slowly slip out of its shape, his hair sooo fucking close to being fully down. you made your way back to his lips, your tongue being given the freedom to roam around in his mouth. he returned the favor as well, your tongues intertwining and sort of making love in their own special way so to speak. he pulled away for a moment just to chuckle at himself, immediately pressing your mouths together once more.
he tried to speak during the kiss, but it turned into muffled nonsense. you pulled away, cocking an eyebrow as a small 'hm?' released from your chest.
"what i tried to say was," he giggled, tightening his grip on your hips, pecking your cheek a final time. "i love you."
you playfully stuck your tongue out at him, before starting up the smooches all over again. he clearly had forgotten about those pestering grammys.
had this tiny thought while rewatching the performance for the 100,000th time UGH he looked so gorgeous all exhausted and tired. needed this real bad ><
dbf!michael who’s jealously seeps through his actions whenever your boyfriend comes around. he’ll hover over you more than your dad, under the guise of wanting to make sure you’re okay. he knows you’re okay, he just can’t let anything happen further when he’s around. a part of him dislikes the fact that your boyfriend is a big fan of his music but anything to keep him away from you, right?
dbf!michael, who spoils you rotten, sending you money for whatever. he knows you have everything you need usually, being the independent person that you are. the thing is, michael is obsessed with the way your voice gets whenever he sends you money. the guilt dripping from your tone, begging michael to take back at least some of the money but he doesn’t listen. telling you it’s okay, don’t worry your pretty head, spend the money or save it so he can add more to it later.
he also makes sure you’re at most of his concerts, front row, just so he can keep his eyes on you during most of it. dbf!michael makes sure he has dirty diana and in the closet on the set list, needing you to hear his breathy voice and slight moans. he has this hidden smirk and desire on his face, eyes locked on yours, making your heart beat faster. you swear it’s just the performance, but you know it’s more than that. the dreams of michael coming to you, touching your body, reappear. you tried so hard to push them away years ago, but how could you?
dbf!michael, who loves it whenever he takes you shopping, he’ll play it off to your dad and you that he’s just being nice, and yeah, he is but he really wants to see what you’ll pick out. he’ll follow you to the dressing room, standing outside, trying so hard to keep his boner down whenever you come out with something new. he’ll ask you in that soft voice of his to twirl for him, seeing the curves of your body peak out. you feel hot whenever he does that, whenever his eyes and attention are stuck on only you. he chews on his gum harder, licking his bottom lip, fingers playing with something on him cause he can’t touch you.
dbf!michael doesn’t mean to show off his awards and achievements, but he does, reminding you that your boyfriend can’t and will never compare. so many things he does, dbf!michael will remind you what a man is, and it’s definitely not your boyfriend. so, he’ll wait patiently, manipulating everything to his way, because he knows sooner or later your boyfriend will be out of the picture. you’ll cry to michael, be captured in his loving arms, and he’ll take good care of you.
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