Stop associating us Michael fans with these weird 'bae nation' gc jaafar and jermajesty obsessed 15 year olds pls. That shit has nothing to do with me I'm not part of it
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
we're not kids anymore.
taylor price

No title available
Jules of Nature
ojovivo
Keni

❣ Chile in a Photography ❣

JBB: An Artblog!
RMH

No title available
Not today Justin
styofa doing anything
No title available
Alisa U Zemlji Chuda
I'd rather be in outer space 🛸
Sade Olutola
wallacepolsom
2025 on Tumblr: Trends That Defined the Year
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open

seen from Kenya
seen from United States
seen from Türkiye
seen from United States

seen from United States

seen from Ireland

seen from Poland
seen from Singapore

seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Türkiye

seen from Greece

seen from United States

seen from Slovakia

seen from Ireland
seen from Türkiye

seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
@premiumgyu
Stop associating us Michael fans with these weird 'bae nation' gc jaafar and jermajesty obsessed 15 year olds pls. That shit has nothing to do with me I'm not part of it
we as a society need to focus more on how BEAUTIFUL he looked in this interview oml...
— 𝐞𝐫𝐚 𝐭𝐰𝐨 ; 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐑 (michael)
through every era, him. 18+
°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:・
Studio 54 was packed.
People dancing, singing, swaying their hips to the music everywhere you looked. Bottles of tempting liquor and cigarette butts coated the floor more so than the confetti that had once rained from the ceiling.
Everyone was enjoying themselves — grinding back onto a stranger they wouldn’t remember in the morning, wincing as a shot burnt down their throat, or belting the lyrics to a well-known song. All cooped up in their own personal satisfaction in the thriving club.
Not Michael.
His attention was demanded by people all day everyday, especially since his new release album Thriller, he was the name on everyone’s lips. Constantly needed, constantly wanted — commanded to speak or dance or put on a show.
But, right now the only show he cared about was the one you were putting on.
— 𝐞𝐫𝐚 𝐨𝐧𝐞 ; 𝐎𝐅𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐋𝐋 (michael)
through every era, him. 18+
°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:・
Michael was besotted.
From the moment he laid eyes on you, stood with his sister, La Toya, introduced to the family as his sibling’s friend at Hayvenhurst for the first time, in a pretty plaid skirt and a taupe oversized sweater — he knew he loved you.
Loved you so much he’d go to the ends of the Earth for you. Travel miles just to hold you for 5 minutes. Cancel every tour, every show if you needed him, at the drop of a hat.
Especially so once you became his official girl.
He’d do absolutely anything.
Anything but make sweet love to you.
OTW MIKE IS PEAK. WOW.
━━ SUNSHINE .ᐟ ⋆ ⋆
─── ᨳଓ .──── ♡wc: 1.2k
otw!michael jackson x flreader
synopsis ★: micheal has the biggest obsession with you, but your his sisters bsf..
cw: fluff (kissing at the end)
authors note : this is my first ever fluff mj fanfic so please be kind! - .✦ ݁˖
𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗍 2 𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 <3
Michael didn't even know where this obsession with you came from.
It starts from when you first came to the Jackson house with his sister. You were LaToya's pretty best friend. You'd been around the Jackson house for so long that everyone had gotten used to seeing you. Between coming over for school projects, shopping trips and random afternoons spent with La Toya, you'd somehow become part of the Jacksons.
At first, Michael never thought much of it.
But as time went on, he started noticing you more than he probably should.
He'd catch himself looking for you whenever LaToya mentioned your name. If he knew you were coming over, he'd suddenly find himself hanging around the house instead of disappearing into his room, writing lyrics as usual. Sometimes he'd even think about you for no reason at all.
He didn't understand it.
You were just his sister's best friend.
At least, that's what he kept trying to tell himself.
His brothers, however, saw right through him.
The way he'd go quiet whenever you walked into the room. The way his face would light up the second he heard your voice. He'd pretend not to look at you, only to glance over a few seconds later. Michael thought he was hiding it well.
He wasn't. I mean, he had every reason, you were sweet and soft spoken, and you'd play his board games when no one wanted to even letting him win occasionally. He'd share his new song lyrics and asf for your opinion, which were very important to him. Defended him when arguing with his brothers. You were perfect. Like a ray of sunshine. .✦ ݁˖
Now it was a lazy afternoon at the Jackson house.
The pool was loud with splashing and water everywhere, sunlight reflecting off the water.
LaToya and Janet were sitting at the edge, flipping through fashion magazines you brought them, talking about clothes and new music.
The boys were in the pool, pushing each other underwater and fighting, splashing, dunking each other underwater, voices overlapping, making so much noise as usual. It made you giggle.
You were lying back on the pool chair in a yellow checkered bikini you bought at the mall while out with LaToya. Sun shining on your body, you're trying to chill before getting splashed by water. Again.
You lean up on your elbows and look over at them, annoyed.
"Guys, I'm trying to relax..?"
They apologise before going back to their wrestling.
You shook your head a little and leaned back again.
Marlon pushed himself up a bit in the water, resting his arms on the edge.
"Why don't you girls get in?"
LaToya groans before standing and getting in. You walk towards the edge of the pool, then bent over to feel the pool temperature.
Michael stared eagerly as you were giving him the perfect view of your boobs. Making his head almost explode.
You’re in the water, drifting a little closer to LaToya while everyone’s still talking and messing around. Jermaine swims over and starts talking to you, a bit flirty in that teasing way of his, staying a little too close.
“You always look this good, or is it just when I’m tryin' to talk to you?”
You laugh softly, then smile, "I always look like this, Jermaine.."
“I see why La Toya keeps you around, you’re cute."
Michael notices immediately, even if he’s trying not to, he ends up going quiet at the other end of the pool, watching with that tight jaw like he’s pretending he doesn’t care but absolutely does, especially because Jermaine clearly knows what he’s doing, pushing it just enough to get a reaction out of him, and Tito notices it too, glancing between them before saying something.
“You gonna do something or what?" "He’s over there all on your girl,” a bit louder than he means it, and Michael immediately snaps low, scared you've heard. “Will you keep your voice down!?” not even looking at him properly, but obviously you heard everything and look over Jermaine and see Michael covering his face, embarrassed.
You smirk then turn and get out of the pool, saying you’re going for orange juice, but as you walk over to the glass slide door, you glance back to Michael, and he’s already watching you, and after a second, he gets out too and follows you inside without saying anything.
You're both now in the kitchen by the counter. You turn slightly, looking at him like “You really said keep your voice down?” laughing at him because you heard everything, and he just goes a bit still, like he was exposed.
You step closer, smile a little softer now, and go “You’re acting like I didn’t always know you liked me anyway.”
He paused. "Wait, you knew?"
"You're not very good at hiding things, Michael." He laughs under his breath and stares at you properly, taking in how good you look and how he wants you so bad.
"You're staring, Mike." You take a sip of your orange juice.
He snaps back to reality. "Huh.. what."
"Just kiss me already." Michael freezes. "W-what?"
"God.. Fine." You drop your drink, grab his shoulders and pull him into you, your lips touching. He gasps but moans into the kiss. Wrapping his hands around your hips as he holds you tighter, and you dangling your arms around his neck. Michael kisses you back deeply, softly squeezing your hips, then lowering to your ass. Your hands tangle in his curly, damp hair, touching down the back of his head to his shoulder before you pull back, smiling while Mike is trying to catch his breath.
“Thought you said keep your voice down..?” and he can’t even answer properly, he shakes his head a bit and locks eyes with you. Before you both head back out to the pool like nothing happened.
Thank you for readinggg, this is my first ever fluff fic so I hope It's okayy. Ive got a masterlist up now for future mj fics and please comment if you wanna be added to a taglist! This has been in my drafts for a while as it took a while. 🌟 pls send requesttss
- mjsangel .✦ ݁˖
© 𝗆𝗃𝗌𝖺𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗅𝗅 .ᐟ 𝗉𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗌𝖾 𝖽𝗈𝗇'𝗍 𝗌𝗍𝖾𝖺𝗅 𝗆𝗒 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗄!
✮⋆˙ 𝗋𝖾𝖻𝗅𝗈𝗀𝗀𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾𝗌 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝗀𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗅𝗒 𝖺𝗉𝗉𝗋𝖾𝖼𝗂𝖺𝗍𝖾𝖽 ˙⋆✮
𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗇𝖺 𝖻𝖾 𝖺𝖽𝖽𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝖺𝗀𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗍? 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗈𝗇 𝗆𝗒 𝗉𝗂𝗇𝗇𝖾𝖽 <3
Big fan of whatever this is
˖ ⭑ brat | michael jackson ˖ ⭑
pairing: bad m.jackson x fem!reader.
synopsis: you had been a brat towards michael all day and he finally decided to fuck the attitude out of you.
warnings: bratty reader, use of princess, good girl, oral (f!recieving,) back shots, slapping, restraints, choking, rough sex, aftercare.
a/n: this is based on this request and this one. also this is lowkey dominant asf so if you’re a snowflake and only like sub michael, then i wouldn’t read this at all.
the bedroom was dimly lit, only the soft glow of lamplight casting shadows across the silk sheets. you were lounging on the bed, wearing one of michael’s oversized white shirts that slips off one shoulder, pouting as you flip through a magazine with exaggerated disinterest.
michael enters the room, his tall frame filling the doorway as he closes it softly behind him. he’s impeccably dressed in a black leather jacket and matching pants, his hair styled into a perfect wave. he notices your attitude that you had been giving him all day immediately and his expression darkens, the corners of his mouth turning down slightly.
“baby,” michael says, his voice smooth but carrying an edge of warning as he loosens his tie, “i’ve been patient with you all day. the eye-rolling, the snapping at me, the way you ignored me at dinner…” he walks closer, removing his jacket and draping it over a chair. “that’s enough.”
˖ ⭑ bad influences | michael jackson ˖ ⭑
pairing: bad m.jackson x fem!reader.
synopsis: you went against what michael said when he told you not to go out with your bad influences and you pay the price for it, him giving you the cold shoulder until you do something that you know he can’t resist.
warnings: slight angst, smut, mile high club, michael being a little controlling, make up sex, riding, missionary, slight choking.
a/n: this is based on this request. i love this idea so so so much, i hope yall enjoy. also keep sending requests, i love writing what yall want to see. also i’m sorry if there is any mistakes in this, i didn’t proofread this.
you stood before the expensive vanity mirror in you and michael’s bedroom at the hayvenhurst estate, smoothing lipstick over your mouth, dressed in an outfit that was undeniably lethal—black long sleeve bodysuit, sheer tights, sequin black low waisted mini skirt and black heels, an outfit designed to turn heads your way.
michael leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching you with those intense, unreadable eyes. he hadn’t said a word through your entire transformation, but his disapproval was palpable. you knew he hated when you dressed like this, knew he hated when you went out with your friends.
“is that what you’re wearing?” his voice was low, almost dangerous. you spun around, hand on your hip, not backing down. this wasn’t the first fight you’d had about your social life since you started dating the biggest pop star on the planet. “yes, michael.”
dont take the bait…
your shy boyfriend michael is always so hesitant to touch you, even when you two are just kissing.
You straddle his lap as his hands hover above your back—not touching. You grip his face, begging for more, the kiss not helping you begin to move your hips a bit and his breath hitches.
You pull back instantly, “michael.” you huff, he looks up at you with those innocent, oblivious brown doe eyes. “yes? sorry is it my—is it cause I’m hard?” you stifle a laugh. “no it’s not that, I just feel like you don’t actually want to do this.”
His eyes immediately sink down, “what?” his soft voice like music to your ears, he watches as you get off of his lap and take your seat next to him on the bed. “I do want to do this I—I love it I just—“ you grab his hand. “Michael seriously if you don’t wanna do—“ he shuts you up with a quick kiss. “baby..” he starts.
“Can you tell me what it is I’m doing wrong?” he questions, his voice almost sounds like he’s begging to know. “It’s like, I don’t know. You don’t touch me, your hands never roam over me, and you kinda just—it feels like I’m kissing a wall.”
He looks at your expression before bursting into laughter, “michael! this isn’t funny I genuinely—“ he interrupts you. “It’s not a you thing, it’s me—I just get so in my head, and nervous around you, my brain short circuits. I don’t wanna mess up anything when I’m with you.”
A smile plasters across your face, “you’re shy?” he immediately clasps his hands against his face. “I’m so shy.” You can hear him murmur between his hands. You remove his hands from his now rose cheeked face. “Don’t be shy, you can touch me michael. I am your girlfriend right?”
You’re back on his lap, grinding against his hard on. His hands roam everywhere. From your waist, boobs, ass. He’s whining into your mouth like he’s demanding more. You push him onto his back moving back and forth against his clothed cock. “uh huh—“ he whines. “yea—yeah.” he whimpers.
He’s not as shy anymore, you thought to yourself. And him whining and whimpering, hands roaming all over you—it only makes you want more. “Can I take your pants off?” You ask him. He nods but looks to you, “ah, are you sure you wanna—?” you shut him up with a kiss. “shhh.” he smiles, his face lighting up.
“okay—“
“I love you y/n—I love you so much.” he says, at the brink of an orgasam.
short fic !! to anyone who left requests on my other acc redo them here :(!! and to others, keep requesting!!! OKG I’m literally falling asleep goodnight
━ ˙⋆✮Dangerous era!Michael who can’t help but turn doggy style into pronebone every single time. (18+ mdni)
It starts with you on all fours and his all-too-soft grip pawing at your waist— he can never bring himself to be rough with you. In fact, it’s always you who initiates this position.
There’s just something about the way he fills you so nice and deep when he hits it from the back, it’s the kind of angle that sends your hips in reverse meeting his in an echo of skin slapping skin.
And he knows you like it like that— when his dick buries into that one specific spot. So he’ll press you further into the mattress with every stroke until your tummy is flat against the sheets, with only his forearm keeping his weight from plowing into you.
“You feel s’good like this angel.” His breath rasps against your ear between thrusts.
“Wanna keep you right here— like this, all day.”
The words are a dazed groan as he buries into you deeper, his hips colliding with the curve of your ass.
“Then why don’t you?” You’re barely able to form the question with your face smushed into his pillow and your moans getting caught in your throat.
His laugh brushes against your neck and his skin sticks to yours, slick and heaving, as his chest pins you further into his bed. Each precise movement of his hips is slow and steady, sending an incoherent whine to your lips.
“I’d be happy to.” His words of accommodation are soft and sweet. A tender declaration to contradict the weight of his body pressing heavy against you. His gruff moans melt into your skin with every plunge of his cock between your thighs as he thinks about falling asleep in you after you’ve both finished— tucked deep inside your cunt with your cum seeping around his cock.
in love and war
❛ michael jackson 𝑥 long term gf! reader ❜ ....✉︎ established relationship. michael and y/n have a huge fight before attending his friend's wedding. michael likes to problem solve by sending you expensive gifts. but this time, your forgiveness cannot be bought. (setting: elizabeth taylor's 1991 wedding at neverland. not completely canon) ....✎ warnings/tags: long arguments and fighting. implied that michael is having issues (generic, not specified) and keeping secrets. if you've read lisa marie's autobiography it's loosely inspired by the fact that he kept her in the dark about everything and hated when she asked questions. no happy ending btw.
you haven't seen him in days. unreachable is an understatement.
you don't know what he's been up, let alone where he's been the whole week. you spent your mornings leaving him calls everywhere – his other homes, the studio, the record label, the hospital, even the hotels he'd frequent at when he wants an escape. you spent your evenings staying up for him, awaiting his return, only for you to wake up to his side of the bed completely untouched.
you begged and pleaded his security team, his lawyers, his doctors, and the rest of the staff to tell you where he was. no one would budge.
when he got word that you were out and about looking for him, his first line of defense was sending you an expensive flower arrangement with a note that says "i'll be home soon, baby". you threw the flowers in the bin after you tried calling him for the nth time.
bill must have told him what happened, because the next day, he sent over an expensive swarovski bracelet. this time with a note that says "something you can't throw away ;)" the wink taunted you.
an expensive gift usually does the trick. usually.
but this time you were relentless. you went to hayvenhurst and asked katherine if you knew where he was. "he just gets like this sweetie, he disappears for days on end. you need to get used to it by now" she tries to explain to you over coffee. but you refuse to accept it.
while this isn't the first time he'd done this to you, this is the longest time he's disappeared. what is so important that he's unable to pick up your calls for 10 seconds just to let you know he's okay?
you were tired. so you stopped calling. and you stopped looking.
the girl is mine
pairing: thriller era!michael x reader specifically 1983 michael but you can picture him however you want summary: michael's brothers - including jermaine - love to flirt. michael is jealous. that's it. that's the plot. word count: 978 author's note: my last post got more than one like and I am nothing if not a woman of my word so here I am (yes I wrote this because I want to be in a Jackie + Marlon sandwich okay)
oscar winning tears
⋆ FEATURING: michael jackson x fiancée!reader
SYNOPSIS: a big argument between you and michael broke out mere days after he asked you to marry him. you didn’t think it was that serious, which is why you didn’t break off the engagement but michael being the petty man he is, refused to speak or see you for weeks. which leads to you attending the mtv 1995 awards, just to see him.
WARNINGS: 18+ MINORS DNI — fem!reader, secret relationship, angst angst angstttttt, hurt/comfort, makeup sex, public sex, petty!michael, reader lowkey folds but who wouldn’t?, janet being the queen that she is, happy ending, no use of y/n
WC: 6.6k (guys i think i cooked a bit too much)
AN: this is based off of when michael ghosted lisa marie for six weeks and the only way she could see him was when he was performing. but also keep in mind that this is a work of fiction and the events in this fic shouldn’t be taken as an accurate piece of media! for reference to the title, i was listening to “oscar winning tears” and that’s how i got inspired for this fic lol.
michael jackson masterlist ༻ navi
neverland ranch, july 27th 1995
“michael you can’t be serious.” you say, watching the way your now fiancée is pacing right in front of you.
he stops his pacing, looking at you like you just told him to go fuck himself.
“i am serious, baby.” he starts, “what part of me askin’ for us to make our relationship public to the media and you moving in with me is a joke?”
you sigh. “mikey, i love you. and i want to marry you, i do. but im just not ready for my face to be revealed on every single newspaper or magazine yet. or for i don’t know,” you throw your hands in the air, “your crazy fans harassing me all because im getting married to their celebrity sweetheart.”
he pinches the bridge of his nose, like this whole talk you’re having with him is raising his blood pressure. “okay let me ask you this one thing.” he says.
you nod.
“you knew what you were getting into when we first started dating, right?”
“well yeah, but—”
“let me finish.” he snaps, holding up a singular finger.
you let out a scoff in disbelief, at the snappiness of his tone.
he’s never spoke to you like that before.
“when we started dating, i told you what it would be like dating someone like me. i even refused many many times because i never wanted you to have to deal with the media or the tabloids. but it was you that was persistent. it was you that wanted me so bad to the point you never cared about what anyone else thought. it was me who decided to keep the relationship secret because i didn’t want you to get hurt. i didn’t want you to have to deal with all of that pressure. and now because i’d rather let the world know who my wife is on my terms instead of the media leaking it, it’s a problem?”
“no, no of course it’s not baby, but—”
“but what?”
you close your mouth at his words, not even attempting to speak. michael is normally a calm and collected person who seems to have a lot of patience. but now at this moment, he’s giving you no grace at all.
“okay listen.” you start, speaking slowly. you’re trying not to say the wrong thing because one thing you’ll hate to do is make this situation even bigger than it needs to be. “i love you. i want to marry you. i hope to someday start a family with you, but when i said all those things about the media finding out about us, yes i still don’t care what they think because my love for you outweighs all of that worry. but it doesn’t erase the fact that im scared. im scared of what people will think because it’s not like im just a girl that you’re sleeping with, or your date to an award show. i’m going to become your wife soon and that’s, michael that’s a crazy jump. and damn me for wanting to enjoy the buildup of us getting married without the unnecessary stress of people finding out about us.”
you take in a lungful of air, after spilling out everything you’ve been bottling up since michael has made it known that he wanted to make you guys’ relationship public.
“mikey, please say something.” you whisper, when you see him take a seat at the other side of the couch. he rests his elbows on his knees, looking at the ground.
“there’s nothing to say.” he shrugs. “you’re not ready so im going to have to accept that.”
“what does that mean?” you ask.
“it means, come back to me when you’ve made up your mind.” he gets up from the couch, walking to the phone on the other side of the room.
“what do you mean, ‘come back to me’ like i work for you or something?” you snap, your tempter starting to rise.
you’ve been so calm throughout this whole conversation but now you just feel angry.
it’s like he can’t understand that you need time. you need time so you can mentally prepare yourself for your life to be completely turned around.
he stays silent, jamming his finger into the numbers before he lifts up the phone and puts it to his ear.
“michael are you even listening to me?” you stand up walking towards him so you two are face to face.
well not exactly face to face since he’s a couple inches taller than you.
he looks down at you and the look on his face makes you take in a deep breath without realising it.
it’s not the normal, loving look he gives you all the time. i mean of course, you can tell that he still loves you a lot because otherwise he would’ve never been so angry. but the look that is pointed right now at you is somehow distant. like he’s looking straight through you, and closing himself in a tiny box.
he’s secluding himself from you already and you both are still together in the same room, inches away from each other.
the person on the other side of the phone seems to pick up because he looks away from you and focuses on something above your head. “hi, yes i need you to send a car up, immediately.”
you gasp, grabbing his arm. he’s sending that car to come and get you.
“michael don’t do this.” you plead. tightening your hold on his wrist but he doesn’t even move an inch. he doesn’t even acknowledge your presence anymore.
he’s shut you out.
“baby we can talk about this. we’re engaged remember. all im asking for is some time to think but this is too much. don’t hide from me.” you beg, your lip starting to quiver at the thought of him dismissing you so quickly without giving you a chance.
“okay, thank you.” he says, hanging up the phone and placing it back where it was. “the car should be here in a second to take you home.” he mutters, shrugging off your hold on his wrist and walking past you towards the spacious kitchen.
you follow him, tears springing to your eyes. you ignore the chef who’s at the stove cooking, and go to michael who’s opening the fridge, and taking out a carton of orange juice.
“michael.” you whimper, your chest starting to feel tight.
he ignores you, opening the cabinet and taking out a fresh glass.
“michael why are you doing this?” you say. “what happened to talking about things? why can’t you have a civil conversation without shutting people out whenever they don’t agree with you?” at this point tears are already starting to fall freely down your face, messing up your makeup.
you’re hurt. you’re hurt that he’s angry at you all because you want to protect yourself.
he should be able to understand. he should be able to see how terrified you are about the world finding out about you.
“michael!” you shout, openly sobbing in the kitchen and not giving a fuck about the chef staring at you like you’re insane.
you hate it when he does this. he does this every time he’s upset or angry. he just stops talking, stops acknowledging your presence. it’s like in his world, you don’t exist.
and you hate that he’s doing this to you. the woman that he went down on one knee to propose to a couple days ago. the woman that he says everyday is the love of his life. the woman that he wants to have kids with.
at that thought, you put your hands over your face, sobbing into your palms.
“the car should be here now.” you hear him say over your sobs.
you sniff, wiping your tears with the back of your hand. “okay.” you whimper. you turn to leave, because no matter how much you plead, or beg for him to just listen to you, you know that he won’t. once he’s made up his mind, no one is changing it.
“i love you mikey. ill never stop loving you okay.” you stand there in the kitchen, waiting. waiting to see if there’s a change in his expression or even if he’s going to tell you that it’s all a big fat joke and you can still stay the night like you were meant to.
but no.
he says nothing, in fact he even turns his back on you so the only thing you can see is the back of his head.
with one final glance his way, you walk out of neverland ranch, hoping and praying that you’ll get to come back.
17th august, 1995
it’s been three weeks.
three weeks of voicemails, and you trying everything in your power to get michael to pick up the damn phone.
you never thought he’ll take it this far.
and to make matters worse, the times you’ve tried to visit the ranch, he hasn’t been there.
it’s like he’s actively, avoiding you.
the only times you’ve been able to catch a glimpse of him is from the screen of your television or from the tabloids.
and from the looks of it, he’s living his best life out there.
from the moments you’ve seen, he doesn’t look sad, he doesn’t look miserable. he looks… happy to mingle with his fans. and definitely happy to not be in your presence.
you feel sick. you feel absolutely disgusted with yourself for trying to grasp just a pinch of his attention just for him to prance around and act like you don’t exist.
this is the longest you guys have ever spent apart since you both started dating a year and a half ago.
it’s either you would spend a couple nights at the ranch with him or he’ll come and stay at your apartment.
even when he would go on his tours, you’ll always be there in the audience, making your appearance known.
hell, even his family know who you are, and they seem to love you.
you remember when you first started dating michael and you both tried to keep it under wraps but his family found out in mere weeks.
you’ve even been at their home in havenhurst a couple times.
just the thought, that you’ll probably never go back there and see sweet katherine again, has your stomach forming a knot.
but unfortunately you can’t let yourself go on like this. at the end of the day you are a woman before anything else and you can’t be sitting here being stringed along by a man.
even if that man is michael jackson.
31st august, 1995
it’s been two more weeks and at this point you don’t give a single fuck.
a couple weeks ago, you were still calling his landline, crying when the machine told you to leave a message all because you missed him, and all you wanted was for him to hold you in his arms and tell you it’ll be okay.
but now… fuck him.
honestly, fuck michael jackson.
at first you were calling him so he could just hear you out, and so you guys could fix whatever problems you both seemed to have but now the calls starting turning more serious.
you’re calling him so he can come and take the ring back.
it’s been five weeks of him ignoring your calls, or him refusing to be home when you try and visit him and all you’ve been doing inbetween, apart from crying your eyes out, is looking down at your left hand and seeing the big, 10 carat ring that is sitting comfortably on your finger.
if ghosting his fiancée is the new thing for breaking off an engagement then so be it.
because you’re not going to be here looking so goddamn stupid, when he’s there enjoying his life without you.
and to think all of this was because you wanted to wait just a couple more months before exposing your relationship to the world.
and that’s why you decided to do what you’re about to do.
you never wanted to get his sister involved. or anyone else involved, but at this point you’re desperate.
you’ve even tried to reach out to bill, quincy and even some of the staff at neverland and they’ve all told you the same thing.
“michael is busy.”
busy.
busy doing what? torturing your whole being with his silence?
and now you’ve sought out his baby sister because if it’s anyone that can get michael to talk to you so he can take back the ring, it’ll be her.
“hello.” janet’s voice immediately flows through the phone.
you bite your lip, tears starting to form because for the past five weeks, all you’ve wanted was to hear the warmth of michael’s voice and janet, she just sounds so similar to him.
janet says your name, causing you to clear out your throat so she doesn’t know that you’re fighting back tears right now.
“sorry.” you sniff. “um i just wanted to ask if you know where i can find michael because he’s been ignoring me… for so long and i-i need to give him back the ring.”
silence.
just pure silence on the other side of the phone.
you didn’t hear the click to indicate that she hung up on you so she should still be on the phone. why isn’t she saying anything?
“janet?” you ask.
“im sorry.” she clears her throat. “what do you mean you need to give him back the ring? what on earth has happened?”
you start to tell janet about everything, from the beginning where you and michael started arguing at the ranch five weeks ago, till when he practically told you to leave his home and has been ignoring your calls and visits ever since. at this point you couldn’t even hide the fact that you were crying.
“…i didnt even realise he was going to go this far janet. all i-i wanted was for us to talk about it and come to some sort of conclusion, as couples should do.” you sob.
“oh honey, im so sorry. if he wasn’t in new york right now ill go and kick his fuckin’ ass.”
you laugh at her words, despite the fact your nose is all snotty and your mascara is damaged from your endless tears.
you’ve never cried so much in your life ever. these five weeks have made you feel like all you do is cry.
but then you realise what she actually just said. “wait he’s in new york?” you ask.
“yeah, he flew over there early for a couple of press conferences, and signings before the mtv awards. him and i both got nominations for our music video ‘scream’.”
“oh my god, congratulations!” you say.
you’re only congratulating janet, it’s just unfortunate that michael is nominated as well. it’s such a horrible thought since you can’t help but love him so very much. but you’re hurting. just the thought of him makes your heart clench in your chest.
“well i hope you win,” you smile, emphasising on her winning. “but whenever you see michael just tell him from me that he needs to come and get his ring back.” your smile drops, at that thought.
because giving him the ring back is the last thing you want to do.
but you’ve been waiting for weeks just to hear a simple ‘hi’ from him and you’ve got nothing.
and you have to have some sort of respect for yourself.
“why don’t you come to the award show?” janet says, causing your mouth to drop.
“oh no—”
“yes! you have to come. you can fly with me and i can easily get you a seat in the front row. you know what yes, you’re coming. let me add you onto my list right now.”
“janet—”
she cuts you off, saying your name in such a tone that has you clamping your lips shut.
“you’re coming. pack a couple of clothes, we will be flying out in a couple of days. ill send you a car to pick you up and take you to the private airport.”
“janet, you really don’t have to.” she scoffs on the other side of the phone.
“no but i want to. and also i want you to be there when i give my brother a piece of my mind. because one thing you’re not going to is disrespect a woman, not just any woman, his fiancée.”
you go to argue with her again but you stop yourself. you’re so tired, so fucking tired of battling this all by yourself that it feels so relieving having someone take your side. even if that person is his sister.
“thank you. janet, thank you so much.”
“you don’t have to thank me. we’re going to be sisters soon, see you in a couple days.” as soon as she uttered those words, she hangs up the phone.
you didn’t even have enough time to tell her that you’re still giving michael back his ring and there would be no wedding for you both to be sister in laws.
NYC, september 7th 1995
you feel like you’re about to be sick.
this is the first time you will be seeing michael in six goddamn weeks and you feel like you’re going to throw up in your seat.
and to make matters worse, you’re sitting next to some a lister celebrity that keeps on giving you looks and wondering how the hell you even got a ticket, and especially one for the first row.
you swallow, your eyes shifting to the empty seat beside you that michael will be sitting in after he finishes performing.
just the thought of you watching him on stage, knowing that you’re about to hand him back the ring afterwards is another reason why you just may throw up.
the night has already been going on for quite some time, and you’ve been shifting nervously wearing a beautiful black dress, with a slit in the thigh.
it just so happens that it was michael who bought you that dress, the night he proposed to you.
after the first half of awards were presented, the curtain starts to lower and the whole place goes pitch black. the audience starts to scream when the curtain starts to rise and michael. your michael, steps onto stage.
you gasp, because he just looks so beautiful and majestic, which he has no right to be because you’re so very mad at him.
and it’s so hard being mad, when the first thought that entered your mind after not seeing him for six weeks was that you can’t wait to fuck him. even though you know that you’re never going to feel him inside you again.
damn him for making you feel this way.
you look down at your left hand and play with your ring nervously, watching the way the mixtapes of his music hit and how he immediately came alive on stage.
you sit there, staring in admiration at the way he floats around the stage like he owns it.
after about five minutes of his performance, he stops and everyone claps, congratulating him.
i mean you may want to strangle him or fuck him or both. but you can’t deny that he did amazing on that stage tonight.
“thank you.” he says in the mic.
“thank you so much.”
“i love you.” he points to a screaming fan in the audience.
you clench your eyes shut when he says that, wishing that you could hear him say that to you just one more time.
“some of us… likes to play it safe. and take each day as it comes.” he starts. “some of us like to take that crazy walk on the wild side.” you hear a couple of people scream when he says that.
“so… for those of us who like living dangerously. this one’s for you.” and with that he runs to the back of the stage, as dancers start filtering on, distracting us from him switching outfits.
you shake your head, letting out a small laugh at the fact that you thought he was done performing. your laugh immediately stops when his dancers reveal him wearing a suit and tie, with a black hat on.
he starts performing this part of the performance and it’s honestly like he’s trying to seduce you from the stage.
you cross your legs over each other, squeezing your thighs to try and get some sort of friction because there’s no way he’s there humping the air, grabbing his crotch and running his hands down his chest with orgasm worthy expressions on his face, without you getting turned on.
you let out a breath when the music stops and he grabs a mic saying his thanks to the crowd. you don’t think you would’ve been able to take any more of his dirty dancing without at least losing your mind.
this whole time, he still hasn’t noticed you and you’re glad. you’ll probably burst into tears if he locks eyes with you and acknowledges your presence.
“thank you. and for those of you, who made this record number one, i dedicate this to you.”
when the music hits, and he starts unbuttoning his shirt, that’s when you knew it was a huge mistake coming to this award show.
you should’ve stood your ground and told janet no.
because this is your favourite song from michael and he loves to sing it to you all the time, so just hearing him singing this song on stage infront of thousands of people makes your heart lurch in your chest.
as the song goes on, there’s already tears swarming your vision. he walks to the edge of the stage, taking in the audience as he’s singing, and that’s when his eyes fall on you.
“though we’re far apart…” you let a few tears drop when you see him point straight at you when he sings the words with a raise of his brow and a small smirk.
you scoff, wiping your tears with the pad of your finger. how dare he find this amusing after he’s just literally broken your heart, and made you experience twenty different emotions in the span of his fifteen minute performance.
after that song finishes, everyone including you stand up to give him a round of applause.
he smiles on the stage, giving everyone a bow. his eyes lock with yours again, but this time instead of holding the eye contact, you look down at the ground.
you hate that he has you feeling this way. at this point you just may hate him.
the awards continue on as normal and you start to feel more comfortable, watching all these artists get their awards.
you were a bit too comfortable that you forgot about the empty seat beside you until you smelt that familiar cologne.
you look up, your eyes widening when you take in michael wearing a black leather biker jacket with his collars popped out, and a matching pair of black trousers. oh and let’s not forget the signature sunglasses that he always wears.
he sits down silently in the chair beside you, getting comfortable with his legs spread so wide, you’re surprised they didn’t bump into yours.
you clear your throat awkwardly, crossing your arms over your chest and focusing on the two celebrities who are making their way onto the stage.
they start to read out the award and the nominees and you hear ‘scream’ get mentioned. everyone starts to clap including you, and that’s when you see the camera pan to michael who you didn’t notice was staring right at you. he saves himself by pointing to the camera with a shit eating grin.
the camera was already able to catch your face but you still decide to look in the other direction.
“and the winner is,” the announcer calls, “michael jackson and janet jackson.” you start clapping hard when you hear janet’s name get mentioned.
yes you’re that petty.
michael gets up and starts walking to the stage, but stops and waits for janet who was sitting in the front row on the other side.
both of them walk onto the stage together and embrace in a hug. you see janet whisper something into michael’s ear which causes him to give her a terrified look.
they both take turns, saying their thanks to friends, family, producers etc, before they walk off stage holding their awards.
you can’t help but notice that michael is more rigid when he sits back down, instead of his laid back version that you saw before he got up to collect his award.
you still refuse to look at him, keeping your body pushed to the other side of your seat.
at this point, you have no interest in speaking to him at all tonight. at first you wanted to at least do the dramatic ring toss to the chest and then walk out on him but you feel like the only thing you’ll be able to do is cry and beg him to fuck you from the back.
maybe it’s possible to mail him the ring. yeah that sounds like a good idea.
you sigh, when there’s another commercial break and you decide to get up to go to the bathroom. this award show has been going on for hours.
you’re tired, heartbroken, horny and all you want to do is go home.
once you’ve finished in the bathroom, you fix your dress and start to make your walk back to the main room so you can sit back in your seat before the break is done, but you get interrupted by a hand on your arm.
you look up seeing michael, with his eyes still covered by his sunglasses.
“what are you doing?” you blurt out, when he starts to drag you down a long hallway.
“michael let go.” you hiss. trying to pull your arm out of his grip.
he ignores you, the same way he’s been doing for the last six weeks and just keeps on walking.
“michael joseph jackson, let me go before i scream.” you say, still trying to break his grip. but his hand is wrapped around your wrist so tight, that you won’t be surprised if there isn’t already a bruise forming.
you’re still trying to get him to let go of you when michael shoves open a door, that you’re assuming is his dressing room.
“what are you doing?” you yell. “are you— mmphh” your words are swallowed when michael crashes his lips against yours, pushing you up against the door.
at first you start to enjoy the feeling of his slightly chapped lips against yours, tasting just a hint of orange juice but then you remember how he had you leave neverland over a month ago, and didn’t speak to you since.
you push against his chest, panting.
“what. is. your. problem?” you shout, smacking him in the chest.
“you are actually more insane than i thought.” you scoff. “how dare you ignore me for six fucking weeks straight, and then have the audacity to drag me here just to kiss me? have you lost your damn mind?” you can’t stop shouting. after all these weeks of you bottling up your emotions, you can’t help but get it out.
“and,” you let out a dry laugh, “and it was all because i disagreed with you on one thing. not even disagreed, i just asked if we could wait a little more longer and you embarrassed me. you embarrassed me in front of your staff. you embarrassed me in front of quincy and bill when i asked them about you and you told them that you were too busy. yeah right, too fucking busy to check in on your fiancée!”
you didn’t even realise that the whole time you were shouting in his face, michael has been standing there with his hands behind his back with his head down.
he lifts his head up, removing his dark shades.
“you’re not breaking the engagement.” he says, his voice ten octaves deeper than his normal pitch.
you throw your hands up in frustration. “so after all i said, that’s what you have to say? after six fucking weeks of you not speaking to me, that’s what you decide to say to me?” you laugh, in disbelief. “michael i actually can’t believe you. but yes, yes we are done.” you start to twist your ring off of your finger but michael’s hand quickly reaches out to grab onto your wrist.
he pulls you towards him, so you’re flush against his chest.
you look up at him, your eyes filling with tears.
you blink them away, refusing to cry in front of him again.
“well i don’t want us to be done.” he mumbles, pushing your ring back down onto your finger. “i was mad. i was upset because i just wanted the world to see the amazing woman that i want to spend the rest of my life with. so im sorry for shutting you out, and im sorry that i took it out on you without communicating, but one thing i’m not going to allow you to do is walk away from me.”
you try and snatch yourself out of his grip because that was the most shittiest apology you’ve ever heard in your entire life.
“baby.” michael says, pulling you back into his chest. “i said i was sorry.”
“i don’t care. you hurt me. you hurt me in the worst way possible and you think that stupid apology is going to work?” you scoff at his ridiculousness.
“i was angry and i just needed time to think.” he says, his grip loosening which gives you a chance to step back from his hold.
“time?” you say, your eyes narrowing. “one night is considered ‘time’. maybe a couple days, but six weeks michael? i called you every single day and you refused to answer. i cried myself to sleep every night, thinking that you hated me. i even called you on your birthday.” your lip quivers at the thought, and nothing could’ve stopped the tears that now start to fall down your cheek.
you start to openly sob, your heart clenching so tight that you’re convinced death would be a better feeling than what you’re feeling right now.
michael steps forward to embrace you in his arms and you hate yourself for the way you clutch onto his jacket, crying into his chest.
“shhh.” michael whispers into your ear, his hand coming up to rest on the back of your head. “i’m so fucking sorry for leaving it this long.”
“you hurt me so bad.” you cry.
“i know.”
“i hate you.”
“i know.”
“i hate that i still miss you every single day. even when you hurt me.” you hiccup, pulling away from his hold so you’re looking straight into his eyes.
“i missed you too. it’s just, after i got over the fact that maybe you were right to wait a bit before we realised our relationship to the media, i just got told that me and janet got nominated for scream and… and i got so busy with the multiple interviews and the rehearsals for my performance that if i did try and reach out to you it would’ve gave us away.”
you shake your head, your makeup probably a hot mess from your tears. “if you really wanted to fix things with me you would’ve found a way to contact me without the media detecting us.” you sniff.
“i know. and ill make it up to you, i promise baby. it wasn’t meant to happen like this.”
you shrug, stepping back from his embrace again. “i’m still hurt mikey, and just because i love you that doesn’t mean the wounds aren’t still open.”
“i know.” he says softly, stepping forward. “but just give me this one chance to make it up to you. i don’t care if it takes a month, a year or ten years from now. i just don’t want us to be apart for that long again.”
you look up at him, taking in the utter beauty on his face. the tears that are threatening to fall from his eyes and his hands clenched tight like he’s trying to stop himself from grabbing onto you again.
you bite your lip, hating the fact that you’re about to fold after weeks of telling yourself that you’re going to hand him back the ring and move on with your life but you can’t help the way your heart yearns for michael.
“okay.” you nod.
“okay?” he questions, probably shocked that you didn’t try and argue with him.
“okay.” you shrug. “i forgive you but i sure as hell won’t forget and if you ever,” you take a step forward so you finger is pressed to his chest. “ignore me for that long again then i just may cut off your dick and feed it to you.”
michael’s hand instinctively goes to cover his groin.
“i won’t do that again, i promise.” he says, before letting out a loud sigh. “and also because janet basically threatened me when we were on stage.”
you laugh at his words. “good. you deserved it.”
“i know.” he sighs, dropping his head in defeat.
you grab the collar of his jacket. “now come here.” you say, before you pull his lips to yours.
michael doesn’t waste anytime, pushing you against the door and bunching your dress up around your waist.
“i missed this.” michael says against your lips, lifting your leg up so it’s wrapped around his waist.
“you could’ve had this if you didn’t ghost your fiancée.” he smashes his lips against yours as soon as the words leave your mouth. you moan when you feel his hand rub your cunt through your thong.
“im sorry. im so fuckin sorry baby.” he whispers, peppering kisses down your neck as he pushes your thong to the side and slips a finger inside of you.
“shitttt, you’re so fucking tight.” you hold the back of his head, letting out a whine at the thickness of his finger inside of you.
“it’s been so long.” you pant.
“i know. i need to stretch my baby out so ill be able to fit.” he pushes another finger inside of you, curling them so they hit that one sensitive spot.
“ahh— fuck. that feels so good.” you moan, pulling his lips back onto yours. you let out another high pitched moan, when you feel him add a third finger.
he uses his thumb to rub tight circles on your clit, causing you to throw your head back in pleasure.
“im gonna cum.” you grab onto his shoulder, not caring that you’re probably scrunching up the material of his expensive jacket.
“no.” you whine, when he pulls out his fingers and places them into his mouth. he groans at the taste, “fuck baby, you taste so good.”
you pout, undoing his pants just far enough so you can free his cock. “you didn’t let me cum.” you say, when he hitches your leg back around his waist and lines himself up with your entrance.
“baby i need to feel you cum around my cock.” he lets out a deep, guttural groan when he pushes inside of you.
“fuck. ive missed this. ive missed this so much.” he pulls down your dress just far enough so he can suck onto your boob.
you moan, when he starts moving his hips hard against yours.
“you’re so big.” you cry out, wrapping both of your arms around his neck.
“jump.” michael says, letting go of your leg. you jump, wrapping both legs around his waist as both of his hands settle on your ass. he pushes you against the wall, still pounding into you with quick, efficient thrusts.
at this point you’re a blubbering mess as you feel your orgasm build up low in your stomach.
“fuck fuck fuckkkk.” you scream, from the intense pleasure.
“tell me you’re going to cum.” he growls, his hands tightening on your ass so he can manhandle your body to drop you down onto his whole length.
you can’t form words so all you do is nod. you clench, feeling the overwhelming pleasure of your realise.
“shit, im about to cum baby.” michael moans, dropping you down even faster. you hide your face in his neck, as you just let him fuck you like you’re his own personal fuck toy. at this point, you’d love to be.
“godddd— fuckkkk.” you hear michael groan in your ear, pushing you down on his whole length as you feel his cock pulse inside you and the feeling of his seed filling your womb.
you both pant against each other, refusing to break apart.
“that was… the best sex… we’ve ever had.” you pant.
michael places his hand on the door, using it as an anchor to keep him standing.
he sets you down on the ground gently, as you immediately look around his dressing room for some tissues so you can clean yourself up.
you can’t believe you’ve just had sex when there’s literally celebrities right next door.
“i can’t believe we just had sex in public.” you laugh, wiping yourself with tissue and making sure that there’s no bodily fluids on your dress.
“neither can i.” michael scoffs, buttoning up his pants.
just as you two got yourself somewhat presentable, the door bursts open, revealing janet.
“oh my god, there you two are. i was looking for you everywhere.” she says.
you and michael stand there completely frozen. you have never been so grateful in your whole damn life, because if you and michael took any longer, his own sister would’ve walked into you guys having sex.
“are you guys okay? did you sort out everything?” she asks, leaning against the door.
you cover your face in embarrassment. janet has no idea that she is standing in the exact place, her brother just fucked you at.
“we’re fine.” michael says quickly.
“okay.” janet nods. “well just to tell you that the award show is over now and everyone’s starting to go to the after party.” she closes the door but not without giving you a weird glance.
oh she knows.
she definitely fucking knows.
“oh my god.” you say, looking up at michael with wide eyes. “we nearly got caught.”
michael lets out a loud laugh. “it’s okay. we didn’t get caught.”
“yeah but we nearly did.” you sigh, placing a hand on your beating heart.
“anyways,” you start. “i need to go to my hotel room and change so we can head to the after party.” you start to walk out, even though your legs are a bit shaky from the brutal fucking you just endured but you freeze when you realise michael is not behind you.
“what?” you ask.
“you want to go to the after party? together?”
you give him a smile, “yeah.” you nod. “i think it’s time to let all these women know that you’re a taken man.”
michael bites his lip, looking you up and down like he wants to fuck you again.
“i’m never letting you out of my sight again.” he says, grabbing you by the waist, and placing a sweet kiss on your lips.
“you better not.” you laugh. “because i won’t be so forgiving next time.”
and with that you both leave the dressing room hand in hand, preparing for your future of being in the spotlight as michael jackson’s soon to be wife.
extra AN: guys im sorry if the smut is shit or if i forgot to tag anyone. this is the longest fic ive ever done and mama is tired.
tags: @lavnderluv @vict-oryy @nuhveah @phenofeesh @tojiswifeforlife @enhapocketz @littlenerdybee @mtcloudsworld @aureliareadsss @unknwnbrii @daemontargaryenwhore + add yourself here!
mature!michael finds out that he loves to be called daddy
cw: 18+ minors dni — fem!reader, mating press, creampie, guys this one is just smut smut smuttt
michael jackson masterlist ༻ navi
“nghh— fuck!” you moan, feeling the thickness of michael’s tip hit your cervix over and over again.
you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling his lips to yours in a messy kiss.
“it feel so good, godddd. faster, please.” you whine, your lips brushing his with every word.
“oh yeah?” michael says, starting to quicken the pace of his thrusts. the movement of his hips were lethal before, but now that they’re plummeting into you with such speed, you can’t help the way that your legs are shaking while they’re wrapped around his waist.
“oh yes. yes, yessss!” you scream in pleasure. you honestly won’t be surprised if the whole city heard you.
“you gon cum for me baby.” michael whispers in your ear, filling you with the whole length of his cock. you gasp when he stays there, his pelvis grinding into you like he’s trying to puncture your lungs.
it damn sure feels like it.
your mouth opens in a silent scream at the sudden pressure and all you can manage is a weak nod.
“use your words.”
you feel the sudden emptiness when michael pulls out until just the thick head of his mushroom tip is at your entrance and you whine, bucking your hips so you can try and slide him back inside of you.
“please…please i wanna cum. i wanna cum so bad daddy!” your mouth was running at a hundred miles per second that you didn’t even realise what you just called him. and you’re so horny and desperate to cum that you didn’t notice the way michael just completely froze above you, his eyes darkening.
your eyes widen when michael grabs onto the back of your thighs and pushes down on them, practically folding you in half. without a single warning, he plunges back inside of you with quick, hard thrusts.
“fuckkk. you can’t say that baby.” michael let’s a groan, pushing his whole body weight on top of you so your ankles are near enough touching your ears.
“what— ahhh!” you moan immediately after the words spill out your mouth. “fuckkkk, im gonna cum!” you yell, when michael reaches his hand down between your bodies to rub tight circles on your swollen clit.
“yeah do it. cum on daddy’s cock baby.” you don’t even hear his words because all you hear is ringing in your eyes and dark spots start to cloud your vision at the force of your orgasm.
and you definitely don’t hear the guttural groans in your ear and the feeling of michaels cum flooding your insides.
that’s probably the hardest you’ve came in your entire life.
you let out a small whine when michael pulls out, and lays down beside you.
“c’mere.” he coos, pulling you into his chest and placing a kiss on your forehead.
“that was so… good.” you pant.
“you’re something else you know that right.” michael smirks, looking down at you.
“what?” you can’t help but smile at the look on his face.
“calling me daddy?” he raises a brow.
“oh.” you laugh, hiding your face in his chest. he gives your forehead another kiss before getting up and running a shower for you both.
if he fucks you like that… then you’ll be calling him daddy a lot more!
AN: uh… i don’t even know what i just wrote
ㅤㅤ✶ you get hurt
❛ mature era michael & pregnant!reader
in which╵his spouse accidentally injuries herself, and he makes no light of the matter.
contents╵obviously female portrayal. exactly, age gap. slightly suggestive! but mostly just michael fussing over mama and perhaps a bit too fond of the feeling of sharing a baby with you. subtle breeding king undertones if you squint.
Though the mirror suggested otherwise, you couldn’t bring yourself to see anything dramatic in it. In your eyes, it was something that could easily pass for a cat scratch, except you didn't actually have a cat. Just a thin red horizontal line. Not even bleeding anymore. Barely enough to call a wound, most likely the kind to be gone in a week.
You sucked in sharply as your thumb grazed the bone of your slightly injured hip before quickly tugging down the satiny fabric of your gown. Your mouth curled slightly, the impact still throbbing beneath your skin. The silence dragged on as you confronted your reflection and the goddamn stool toppled over on the white tiles.
Contemplation always seemed to elude you before making decisions. Your attempt to fetch the record box by yourself proved to be yet another miserable case in point—you didn’t even register the moment you slipped backward, only to crash catastrophically onto your side and catch yourself on the vanity handle.
The distant scrape of the door latch chilled the life out of your legs in a matter of seconds. It only got worse as you heard Michael call your name tenderly.
Try as you might to answer, nothing came out in the next beat. Instead, you sent the stool hurtling under the sink with a solid kick.
The muted footsteps behind the slightly ajar bathroom door faltered momentarily, and you could practically picture Michael's face scrunching up from the spot. “Lovely?”
“Be right there, honey. Just a sec.”
Unfortunately, the hesitation in your reply was a terrible giveaway.
You stepped into the hallway just as your husband's pace had quickened right past the faux serenity of your words, a paradoxically sincere smile on your face as you traced his silhouette in the shadows of the apartment. Recently, you’d been using your—admittedly rare, given the small swell of your stomach—alone time to dim the lighting to as many candles or table lamps as possible, day or night it be. You claimed it kept you level-headed in the face of your emotional upheaval, and of course, there was absolutely no complaint that could be levelled at you.
Michael unwound at the sight of your cute, pink pajamas. Your belly was the first point of contact for his hands, skimming the curve of your waist while a pair of fingers at the small of your back sowly brought you closer. The heady scent of musk drunk your senses.
“How’s my lady keepin’?” He purred. The same words arose regularly, often standing in for any ordinary greeting. A symptom of how much of his mind was given over to caring for you.
You nodded from deep in your throat. “I missed you.”
While that was your equivalent to a ‘hello.’
“Missed you more, sweetheart,” He conferred, nuzzling your neck to kiss it.
A little titter on your part faded halfway through at the slight change in his hand placement. You forced out an awkward cough when his palms slid lower onto your hips—and, therefore, painfully fresh cut.
He did not miss your sudden stiffness. After a brief pause of recognition, his gaze dropped to your belly on instinct. A sudden, disquieted note as he lowly spoke, “What is it?”
You moved your hands up to his shoulders, trying to maintain closeness. “Nothing, Mike, he's fine."
"Are you?"
You nodded again, unconcerned. Michael breathed softly as he took your earlier move of proximity a step further, his lips gently caressing yours as though every inch of your body aside from the one bearing his baby were also made of glass.
But so soon his thumb dug down into your hipbone, you chomped down on his lip by accident.
Instead of flinching in the least, he leaned back and gave you a look that, the longer it lasted, the more your knees went weak.
“Are you hurt, sweetheart?”
You clicked your tongue dejectedly, your guileful demeanor shedding its pretense as thus far so effortlessly at the familiar edge of the question. Not overbearing nor stern, nor did it in any way rise above the bounds of that usual adoration normally fluttering around you. Yet you never failed to yield. It was the suddenly perceptive stillness with which he searched for any sign that might prove his hunch, too incorriginly prone to ring true. Like right now.
“It was the smallest, most pathetic of falls imaginable." You surrendered, your confidence flagging as you looked away, and then back at him. And then back at the farthest reaches of the walls. Then, inch by inch, finally back at him again.
Michael stared, the sternness so palpable you began to notice blood pooling in your fingertips.
“The smallest ever.”
The thumb he had pressed on the area initiated feather-like strokes, displeasingly confirming your confession in the way your face winced at the touch. Without further probing, he lifted your nightgown just enough to make skin-to-skin contact.
“Oww, careful, careful...“
“Alright, angel. Does it hurt?” You knew he wouldn’t see much in the poor light. He carefully mapped the subtle irregularity in the smoothness of your skin, your spine titillated by the cold, coarse tips of his fingers. “How'd you manage this, mh?”
Your face flushed with humiliation. “…I went looking through the tray records for the doctor's appointments. Up on the shelf."
Michael didn't seem any the happier with your explanation, a sigh through his nose stirring some sense of inadequacy in you.
Your throat vibrated with a grumble. “C'mon babe, that's just a scratch. I did not lose a limb.”
“And yet you couldn't give it twenty minutes and let me do it for you." A rebuttal that inevitably set you straight.
"Probably around fort—"
"Could've waited for me, couldn't you, lovely?"
Your lips pressed together, embarrassment welling up now that you'd noticed the amused look taking shape on your face, at odds with your husband's obvious solemnity.
“…’Kay. But honestly, it's only a scratch.” Right. Your temple nestled against his shoulder as you watched intently. Michael’s hands deftly manoeuvered through the domestic medical supplies and down to your hip, occasionally swapping out the iodine-stained gauze pads for clean ones.
You couldn’t quite understand the point of using more than a couple of them. Or using iodine at all.
A blotchy brownish smear now covered the spot you'd bumped, unevenly.
Michael dabbed at it with the cotton swab, surprisingly sure-handed for someone with virtually no first-aid knowledge or any overall medical expertise.
You’d already protested twice. He wouldn't listen, squeezing more firmly around your underarms instead. Your inner wrist brushed gently against his jaw, bristly with stubble. “Mike, hun... I think that’s enough. Dr. Jackson can stand down now.”
“Let me take care of it, baby.” His hot breath against your ear. “You've been so clumsy. What am I gonna do?"
You couldn't keep your lips from twisting shyly, already leaning in to press them affectionately to him—however, you hadn't quite closed the gap when he captured your chin, tilting it to the perfect angle to properly kiss you. A laugh escaped you when he stopped. "I think you're enjoying this a little too mu—"
The piece of cotton dangled neglected between two of his other fingers while he slowly kissed you shut, an alcohol-scented trail wafting into your nostrils.
His guarding touch dragged up your thigh to your hand, which kept a loose fist on the hem of your flannel to give him a clear view. Your chest vibrated annoyngly when his mouth suddenly left yours. “Here, baby, let me," replacing your hold with his own.
Before you could say anything, Michael diligently resumed the task at hand, now holding the fabric up himself as he lightly petted the soft material over the bruise.
You traced your tongue along your gums, breathing out a smile as your muscles melted back into his chest, both of you on your marital bed.
"Try not to scare me like that again, hm?"
“Fine. I’ll just strap myself to the couch.”
Michael's snarl resented the irony in your voice, which you found nothing but charming. But he met your gaze and you were struck by the same solemnity as before, so you quickly recomposed. “Hey,”
His hand hovered in midair, attending. It was a farcical discrepancy seeing its large proportions against the tiny gauze.
“We’ll be fine, dad. It was just a dumb little accident."
You could so plainly see the muddled and yet quiet fervor writing across his face at your choice of nickname, leaving you temporarily transfixed as you contemplated the endearing onslaught of emotion.
“Oh, boy." He reached for your jaw, your body tilting forward to his grasp. “I'd like t'hear that again.”
“Say what?”
He kissed you on the lips. As he broke not far off, your raised brow of mock innocence hid how much you had suddenly begun to enjoy this.
You tasted it in your mouth. “Dad?”
He hummed, a mellifluous tune to your ears. You started to entertain the idea of spending the whole day teasing him with the name, just to enjoy the novelty of his barely contained reactions.
Michael leaned in to take your lips again, his body warmth more tangible against you—the cotton bit finally cast aside onto some plush game-themed pillow that adorned the duvet. The hand once keeping your gown up now released to cradle your head before pushing you, still ever so gently, onto the wooden headboard, his knuckles cushioning the brunt of impact.
“Being my wife looks great on you, but—” you boldly interjected, bringing him back into the kiss. A tenor “hmh” in response. “God, I love you like this, baby. Lookin' so sweet... doing so good for our baby."
Your bottom half shuddered at the praise. “It has a nice look on you, too.” words mouthed to his parted lips.
A sense of accomplishment settled over you as his teeth lightly sank into your plump bottom flesh, his tongue inadvertently delving deep into the warmth of your mouth shortly after to hungrily lap up every inch. He briefly separated.
"You're makin' it pretty hard for me to stop at one, ain't you, pretty girl?” Your legs already enveloping him, calves pressing down on his bent shoulders. “Soo hard…”
The way your big, dewy eyes gazed up at him, drinking in every syllable he uttered—he pressed down on you a third time, both your bodies weighing down the centre of the mattress, one hand cupping your tummy as he wormed his way beneath the straps of your skimpy thong. “Such a clumsy head... you deserve a little looking after after all that. M' gonna need to keep a closer eye on you to ward off your risky ways.”
His head already trailed down your torso, steadying you against the wall with a palm beside the curve of your breast. He lingered just enough to plant a peck on your hip, sending the night’s very first shiver up your spine.
“You tell me if it's sore, baby."
But you'd pretty much already forgotten about your hip.
author's note╵a quick scribble that came to mind to my moon my man. i will be getting your requests! ik what you dirty hoes are thinking xoxo,
© feverrootlips 2026
this is me and michael, cause i’m delusional and i need that man.