summary: you and Michael are best friends but he cant help but want something more with you
content: just headcanons, fluff, slight pining, friends to lovers?
໒꒱: this is my first time writing in over a year and first time writing for michael so please excuse if its not perfect!
♡ you and michael met right after he first moved to encino, you being one of his neighbors. you guys instantly bonded with the fact that you’re both similar in age.
♡ could’ve been awkward at first given that michael never really had a lot of friends growing up since he was constantly having to rehearse with his brothers but, your witty personality quickly made his nervousness fade and soon you guys were attached at the hip.
♡ every time michael was free (which was sometimes rare) or after rehearsal he would call or knock on your door asking to hang out to which you happily agreed. these hangouts would usually consist of the two of yall playing board games or watching vintage comedy movies laughing at the old-school acting.
♡ even as the two of yall got older and with the new release of his hit album off the wall, you guys only grew closer and michael still made sure to give time just for you, as you were his comfort person.
♡ you guys are so goofy together, never being able to take anything seriously even to the annoyance of his siblings. michael LOVES to make you laugh, having his own reward system for how many times he’s able to make you smile.
♡ he started to take you to studio 54 but quickly stopped after he saw how many other men there took a liking to you, his jealousy (though he would never call it that) taking over. he sometimes feels guilty over the fact that he gets jealous so easily, wanting you all to himself and him only.
♡ he's so careful and loving when it comes to you. michael feels as if you’re the only pure thing in his life untouched by the media which he never fails to remind you how grateful he is and thank you for staying by his side (which you then scold him because there’s no need for him to thank you for the bare minimum?? you’ll always defend him no matter what)
♡ which is WHY he tries oh so hard to ignore the feelings he knows he has for you. poor bby is so anxious that he’ll scare the one constant thing in his life if he were to confess how he has been feeling for years, unaware that you're fighting the same battle in your head.
♡ in your mind, michael is way too good for you. he could probably have any girl that he wanted, so why would he choose you? he’s genuinely the most caring person to you and you’re not sure if your friendship is worth risking it over feelings that YOU’RE sure aren’t reciprocated.
♡ so for now, the two of you will have to be okay with just being “best friends”, even if it slowly keeps michael up at night, imagining you lying in his arms while covering you in his kisses, listening to the giggles that bring him so much joy.
okay bam i lowkey wrote this so fast but part 2?? also this is my first time writing in like over a year so please excuse how bad this is lol!!!
— tags: dom!jaafar, nickname giving, cock riding, pussy eating, blowjobs, praise kink, teasing, public teasing, sex positions, etc.
— this is my first time writing and posting on this app, so this may have grammatical errors. I hope you guys enjoy :)
𓏵 Jaafar would give you soft, passionate kisses as he undresses you and lays you down on the bed.
𓏵 He calls you baby — or ‘MY baby’ specifically — as his go-to nickname during any intimate moment, using it as his way of praising you.
𓏵 Jaafar absolutely loves it whenever you subtly press and grind your ass against his bulge while the two of you are surrounded by a crowded space. The teasing contact, no matter how slight, instantly sends excitement rushing through him and leaves him completely riled up.
𓏵 He would sometimes “accidentally” let his hand slide over your ass before resting it on your waist whenever the two of you were out in public. It immediately sends shivers right up to your spine.
𓏵 He loves it when you wind your fingers through his hair and gently tug on those curly brown locks, it literally sends blood rushing down to his groin.
𓏵 He will purposely trace your clit but refusing to put his fingers in you. He knows exactly how to get a reaction out of you, and he enjoys the way your patience starts to slip the longer he keeps you hanging there, caught between frustration and anticipation.
𓏵 He likes to lubricate his fingers using his saliva to stretch your tight cunt while looking deep into your eyes with his own puppy eyes. He doesn’t want his baby to be in pain, right?
𓏵 Licking up and flicking his tongue, tracing circles and sucking it into his mouth, pressing down and massaging it while he pumps his two fingers inside you. Such a fucking sucker for spoiling your pussy.
𓏵 When it’s about time to hit your climax, he immediately pumps up his fingers on to your tight cunt more rapidly as he curls it into your spongy and velvety walls, while simultaneously sucking your clit— making you cum all over his pretty face.
𓏵 When giving him a blowjob, he likes watching your head bob up and down. He holds eye contact with you, clearly affected by how responsive you are, and it boosts his ego seeing how tears fill up your eyes.
𓏵 Mutual masturbation.
𓏵 He also likes it whenever you slap his hot throbbing cock on to your pretty face while you’re sticking your tongue out. (lol)
𓏵 Addicted to sucking your neck and tits, covering you in love marks all over. He takes his time cherishing your nipples, teasing them with his thumb, sucking and nibbling on them interchangeably.
𓏵 He absolutely loves shower sex. Especially the way every thrust and movement echoes softly throughout the bathroom walls. More than that, he’s completely captivated by the sight of your body covered in soap and bubbles, looking both teasing and irresistible beneath the running water.
𓏵 He wouldn’t mind being called Daddy once in a while, but doesn't necessarily have a huge daddy kink.
𓏵 He loves hearing you curse out his name and infact, he’s hooked to it.
𓏵 Whenever he’s thrusting deeply into you, taking every breathless moan and desperate reaction from you is his proof that he’s making you feel good.
𓏵 Jaafar is not loud during sex, but he makes the filthiest noises—grunting and whimpering sweet nothings into your ear.
𓏵 He has a deep passion with doggy style. Watching your body move with every thrust he gives you is enough to completely drive him insane, and to him, it’s the most mesmerizing sight imaginable.
𓏵 Lights off.
𓏵 Sometimes, he can’t help but let his hands wander over your beautiful body, gripping your waist tightly and occasionally giving your plumpy ass an appreciative squeeze as he loses himself in the moment.
𓏵 He also adores giving you the mating press, loving how close and intimate it makes the two of you feel. Being able to hold you beneath him while watching the sweat bead across your flushed face completely captivates him, and the way you react to every movement only pulls him deeper into the pleasure as he digs in to your pussy more and more.
𓏵 Loves it when you toy him around and take control in just the right way. With his hands firmly on your waist, he carefully guides your movements while watching you ride his cock with swift and confidence. Captivated by how effortlessly you grind against him and set the pace mixing with your soft mewls.
𓏵 He likes watching your facial expressions as he slowly teases the slit of your pussy with his pink fat tip. He finds you adorable whenever your lips part slightly in surprise, letting out a soft whimper, creating an ‘o’ shape as his girth carefully stretches you out.
𓏵 “You want me to fuck you like this?” He emphasizes each word with the press of his heat on your wet folds. It’s both shameful and sinfully hot with how utterly vulnerable you are.
𓏵 He talks you through it, his voice low and steady, praising you for how well you take his fat cock and how obedient you are for him. He makes sure you stay grounded in his words, calling you his good girl and letting you know how much he enjoys the way you respond to him, especially when you start to lose yourself in the intensity as he buries his hard throbbing cock into your cervix, hitting your g-spot.
𓏵 When it’s time for his release, he doesn’t force you to take his cum. He wants you to take it at your own pace, in whatever way feels most comfortable for you.
𓏵 Though he’s intrigued by the thought of filling both of your holes with his hot load. ;)
hm: aftercare.
𓏵 He worships you and your body, softly praising you for how well you did and how well you took everything. He keeps telling you what a good girl you are, repeating it gently like it’s the only thing he wants you to remember, and how much he loves you. Afterward, he holds you close against his chest, humming quiet lullabies as you rest, occasionally running his fingers through your hair and giving you soft, reassuring head pats. :)
☙ SYNOPSIS: you’re janet’s best friend so you got invited to stay the whole summer with her at her home in hayvenhurst. you’ve always been attracted to her older brother, pff who wouldn’t? but little do you know he sort of has a crush on you too. so now you have to figure out how you’re going to survive six long weeks while being under the same roof as him.
⌫ WARNINGS: 18+ MINORS DNI — post!thriller michael, age gap (reader is 21 & michael is 26), janet knows about readers crush and teases her about it, michael is such a gentleman, j*e doesn’t exist cause i said so, michael’s brothers being teases, also randy tries to flirt with reader a lot, jealous!michael, oblivious!reader, horny!reader, first kiss, virginity loss, sub!michael if you squint really hard, oral (m!receiving), riding, unprotected p in v, creampie (oops), no use of y/n, happy ending
☙ WORD COUNT: 6.0k words
✿ NOTES: guys i got a bit lazy at the end as i always do lol. but i hope you still enjoy it, this is also one of my personal favs mwah!
michael jackson masterlist ༻ navi
SUMMER 1985
you hum to the soft music playing in your car, feeling the warmth of a summer afternoon through your car window as you start to get closer to the hayvenhurst gates.
you cannot believe that you're staying the whole summer at hayvenhurst.
you've been friends with janet jackson since you both met at school in indiana but you lost contact over the years when your family had to move away. it was only recently that you both reconnected and have been inseparable ever since.
that's why she invited you over to her beautiful family home, to spend the summer and you are more than excited. not only are you going to be having the best summer of your life with your best friend but you'll also get to meet him.
yes, michael jackson.
when you were younger, you never actually got the chance to meet janet's older brothers but it was only when you moved away to a different state and you saw how popular the jackson's became that you realised that your friend had fine ass brothers.
you remember having a crush on all of them, not knowing who to choose, but there was always one that stood out from the rest and that was michael.
it was just a coincidence that he turned out to be a bigger star than the rest of them, with him going solo and having the biggest selling album of all time.
you pull your car to a stop, pushing your sunglasses on top of your head before opening your car door.
just as you go to open up your trunk so you can get out your multiple suitcases, the door of hayvenhurst bursts open.
“you’re here!” janet squeals, running towards you and giving you a massive hug.
you laugh, hugging her back just as tightly.
“im so excited to be here. oh my gosh this place is much bigger in person.” you gawk, looking up at the massive lawn.
“ehhh you get used to it.” janet smiles, before looking at the multiple suitcases and bags that are stuffed into your trunk.
“girl did you pack your whole life in here?” she laughs, helping you take out your stuff.
“janet im here for six damn weeks, i need options.” you giggle.
“fair enough.” she nods, “i hope you have a lot of bikinis in there because we’re about to be by that pool all the time!” she raises a brow.
you give her a look that means ‘girl be so for real.’
she laughs at your facial expression, grabbing a few of your bags and helping you to the door.
“but seriously,” you start. “are you sure your mom is fine with me staying?” you ask.
“pff of course! mommy is more excited for you to stay than i am. she did say there needs to be more women in the house.” janet laughs, dropping one of your suitcases right by the door.
“what about your brothers, will they be fine with me staying?”
“who cares what they think?” janet shrugs. “plus this estate is big enough for us to never see their ugly faces.”
you laugh at her words, going back to your trunk so you can grab a few more bags. it does really feel like you packed your whole world in here. but you’d rather have too much clothes, than too little!
you jump when you hear janet scream at the top of her lungs. “randy! michael! come down here!”
“what?” janet shrugs, when she sees your expression. “we shouldn’t have to carry all of this by ourselves.”
“janet it’s fine.” you smile. “this is all technically my stuff so i should be the one carrying it all.”
“girl please, i have brothers for reasons like this one.” right as she says those words, randy comes round the corner followed by michael.
“did you really have to shout that loud?” randy raises a brow, putting his hands on his hips.
you stop in your tracks when your eyes find michael’s. he looks even more beautiful in person.
“who’s she?” michael’s questions, his voice so smooth and soft spoken that it feels like you’ve been wrapped in a blanket.
“she’s my friend.” janet smiles, “and she’s staying for the summer so be nice.”
“oh ill be nice alright.” randy says, his eyes trailing your body up and down.
you laugh at his words, pulling out another suitcase.
“now go help the girl, that’s what i called y’all down for.” janet says, pushing michael towards you.
randy sighs, coming towards you and helping you with your bags.
“what’s your name?” he asks.
you tell him your name, fixing your sunglasses that are trying to slip off of the top of your head.
“that’s a pretty name.” randy smirks, shaking your hand. but not before squeezing it gently.
“randy stop flirting with my friend, and michael,” you look over to see that michael still hasn’t moved from his position by the door, “stop gawking and go help randy!” janet huffs, bossing around her older brothers.
michael sighs, stuffing his hands in his jean pockets, and walking over to your car so he can help with the bags.
the first thing you notice when he steps near you is his cologne.
how can a man smell so damn good.
“hi.” michael nods, holding his hand out for you to shake.
his hand is big, way bigger than yours and you look down at the warmth radiating from his palms.
“hi.” you say, sounding just a bit breathless. “thanks for helping with my stuff, i know it’s a lot but i’m here for the whole summer and i wanted to make sure that i had enough clothes…” you trail off when you see the amused look on janet, randy and even michael’s face.
your face starts to feel strangely warm at the realisation that you just word vomited in front of michael jackson.
randy let’s out a laugh in disbelief. “no way.”
michael stays silent, still gripping your hand, and still staring into your eyes like he’s trying to look into your soul.
“girl.” janet shakes her head, a smile forming on her face, “come and get your butt in this house so i can show you your room.”
“right!” you clear your throat, letting go of michael’s hand who still hasn’t moved, and making your way to the massive doors of hayvenhurst.
“thank you again by the way!” you say over your shoulder to the two men.
“just come on!” janet laughs, leading you into the large foyer.
“i just embarrassed myself didn’t i.” you let out a nervous laugh.
“why did you just spill your guts out there?” janet laughs. “and to michael of all people…”
“i don’t know,” you shrug, “he’s just so nice and…”
janet throws her head back in laughter. “oh my god you totally have a crush on michael.”
“wha— no!” you exclaim, following your friend as she leads you up a large staircase.
“you definitely do. i can’t wait to tell the rest of my brothers and la toya. i mean, i think randy already realised.”
“janet i don’t have a crush on him!” you shout, following her down a long hallway until eventually you both stop at a door.
“mhmm, sure you don’t.” she laughs, “well if you do then this will become a very interesting summer!”
“well i don’t. so there will be nothing interesting to see!” you cross your arms.
“okay!” janet holds her hands up in surrender. “anyways this is your room, my room is just down that hall, to the left and if you must know michael’s room is down that way, all the way at the end of the hall. you can’t miss it.”
“janet!” you gasp, pushing her shoulder playfully.
“okay! okay! ill stop.” she laughs. “but i’m really happy you’re here, you’re gonna enjoy yourself so much!”
“i cannot thank you enough for letting me be here this summer, i know we’re going to have so much fun.” you pull her into a hug.
“that we are!” she says, pulling away. “i mean hot girl summer, remember?”
“exactly that!” you both cackle, doing the handshake that you both learnt when you were both just little girls in school.
“i’m going to leave you here and see how the boys are doing with your overwhelming amount of bags, and you can just meet me downstairs at the pool in, ill say maybe an hour?”
you nod. “definitely! i’m going to take a quick shower because the drive here was long, and ill meet you by the pool, if i can even find where it is.” you laugh.
“okay then how about i meet you here in an hour so i can show you where the pool is because id hate for you to get lost on your first day here!” janet giggles.
“yes, that’ll be amazing.” you open your door, stepping inside. “thank you again, janet.” you say, before closing your door and realising that you may have fucked up by coming here.
because the whole time you were speaking to janet, the only person who was on your mind was michael freaking jackson.
“so…” randy smirks, leaning against your car with his arms crossed.
michael looks up at his younger brother in confusion. “what?”
“so what do you think about pretty girl… janet’s friend.”
michael shrugs, “nothing? i don’t even know her.”
“oh but i bet you wanna know her.” randy laughs.
michael scrunches up his face, “no i don’t. she’s not my friend, why would i want to get to know her? stop being stupid randy.”
“well she obviously likes you.” randy says, raising his eyebrow. “pretty girl never even gave me a second glance when she saw you.”
“she has a name.” michael huffs, crossing his arms.
“ohhhh!” randy cackles, pushing his brothers shoulder. “you don’t like me calling her that do you? getting a bit protective aren’t you mikey?”
“oh shut up.” michael mumbles, feeling his face start to burn up.
“just admit that you like her.” randy states.
“i don’t know her, randy. how can i like someone i don’t know?” michael exclaims, getting frustrated by his little brothers pestering.
“so you’re saying you don’t find her attractive?”
“i— i don’t…”
randy laughs at his brother fumbling over his own words.
“it’s okay to find a girl pretty mikey.” randy snickers, finding this whole situation comical.
michael’s face now feels hot to touch, because he does find you attractive, more than attractive and this is the first time he’s ever met you. so how on earth is he going to handle spending the whole summer with you?
“what are you guys just doing standing there?” michael hears janet call from the open door.
“we’re talkin!” randy yells back.
“well less talking and more carrying these bags upstairs for my girl!” janet stomps back into the house.
“i swear sometimes i wonder who’s worse, her or mother.” randy shakes his head, doing exactly what his baby sister is asking him to do.
michael on the other hand is distracted by you. the way you showed up in tiny tank top, showing a sliver of your smooth stomach, and jeans that hugged your arse so perfectly that he wonders if they were painted on.
he sighs in frustration, annoyed by his own mind.
he shouldn’t be thinking this way about another woman, especially not a woman that’s the same age as his damn sister.
but for some reason he can’t, his mind is engraved with the thought of you.
for the past couple of days, all you and janet have been doing is lazing around by the pool, painting each others nails, shopping, gossiping about ex boyfriends, and just having fun.
you never thought hayvenhurst could be this welcoming, and have such a homey feeling. and you also didn’t expect janet to be correct about the mansion being big enough that you won’t even see her brothers or anyone else for that matter, because you’ve actually hardly seen them.
this is only your second week here so far, and you’ve only caught a tiny glimpse of marlon when he was on his way out to a date, but that’s it.
it’s like they all have their own seperate bubbles in the estate and only come out when they feel like it.
that’s why it was such a shock that when you decided to come into the kitchen late at night to grab a bottle of water, you found michael sitting on a stool at the island, with a notebook and a glass of orange juice.
you nearly run back out of the kitchen and back to your room because not only is the one person who you can’t get out of your mind less than ten feet away but also because you’re alone… with him.
a man who has been in your dreams for as long as you can remember and now he’s just there, right in your reach.
you’re probably going to embarrass yourself again.
he still hasn’t noticed you by the door way, too busy scribbling down notes.
“hi.” you mumble, stepping into the kitchen and making a beeline straight for the fridge.
michael’s head pops up at the sound of your smooth, velvety voice and immediately takes in what you’re wearing. he tries not to let his eyes wander, but it’s hard to stay focused when he can make out your tiny pyjama shorts, that look like they just about cover your arse.
he clears his throat, ridding his mind of those filthy thoughts. “hi.” his mouth forms a tight lipped smile, before he ducks his head back down and tries to concentrate on his notebook filled with unfinished lyrics.
you feel a small pang of hurt in your chest at the feeling of being dismissed. you get it, you’re just a regular girl who happens to be his sisters bestfriend and also staying in his home for the summer, but he doesn’t even care that you’re here, at all.
honestly why would he? he probably has hundreds of women fawning over him and you think that out of all of them, you’ll be the one to catch his attention.
ugh, you hate that you’re so delusional and you hate that you can’t get him out of your fucking head.
“sorry.” you apologise, taking out a bottle of water from the fridge. “m’ just here to get water, i didn’t mean to disturb you.” you give him the same tight lipped smile that he gave you and start to make your way out of the kitchen.
“it’s okay.” his soft voice, stops you immediately. “you didn’t disturb me.”
you turn around immediately at his words, biting your bottom lip.
“are you not tired?” you ask, mentally face palming at the question. you just got an invitation to carry on a conversation with your biggest obsession and the first thing you ask him is that? “im sorry, that’s not what i meant, i mean… its late and you’re not in bed like everyone else.” you shrug.
you should really stop speaking. because it’s like the more you speak, the more embarrassing shit comes out your mouth.
michael let’s put a soft chuckle. “it’s okay. i find it hard to sleep at night sometimes, so instead of sleeping, i write down all the ideas that keep me up.”
you nod in understanding.
“why aren’t you sleeping?” you see him raise an eyebrow, a smirk forming on his lips and how he easily flipped the question back onto you.
“i- i was sleeping!” you sputter out.
“yet you’re here standing in front of me.” your mouth widens in shock at his bold words.
he normally seems so shy and secluded but you didn’t know that he could be so bold and dare you say, funny?
before you knew it you found yourself on the stool right beside him, talking, laughing and joking around like life long friends.
“you’re so funny!” you laugh, after recovering from a laugh attack that he just gave you. you swear you probably have abs from how hard he’s made you laugh.
he shrugs, a wide smile on his face.
and that’s when you realise that it’s already later than it was before, and you are getting a bit tired.
you yawn for what feels like the twentieth time, and that’s when michael realises you should probably go to bed.
he stands up, stretching out his legs. “c’mon.” he holds out his hand so you can help you off of the stool even though he doesn’t have to. but he is a gentleman after all. “you need to go to bed. you’re practically falling asleep sitting up.”
“i do.” you yawn. “i really enjoyed talking to you tonight mikey.” you give him a tired smile.
“mikey?” he raises a brow.
“yeah. short for michael, do you not like that?” you ask, wondering if you’ve overstepped a line. you may have just spoken to him for an hour straight but you’re still practically a nobody to him.
“i like when you say it.” he says, causing heat to creep up the back of your neck.
was that him just flirting with you?
“okay.” you nod, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth. “ill call you that more often then.” you smile, grabbing your unopened bottle of water.
“goodnight mikey.” you whisper, leaving him standing at the kitchen island all by himself.
as you walk out of the kitchen, michael takes a deep breath.
he never wanted this. it was okay at first because he thought he could keep himself busy and avoid you. but now that he’s heard your laugh, heard your sassy comebacks, saw the way you looked so relaxed in his presence… he just may have fucked up.
because now he has to have you.
you and michael have sort of made a routine since that one night you both spent talking in the kitchen. it happened once, then again, then again until every single night after that, you found yourself in that kitchen talking to michael about how your day went, what you and janet got up too etc. and he did the same, talking to you about his demo’s that he showed quincy, telling you about how he went to visit a children’s hospital with bill so he could give them toys and read them stories.
you never thought you could become even more obsessed with someone. but michael is genuinely one of a kind. he’s quirky, has a good soul, loves to compliment you. at this point you’ll consider him your friend.
you remember trying to hide it from janet the first night but she saw underneath all of your lies and is aware that you want michael jackson… badly.
she wastes no time with teasing you about him every chance she gets, like now.
“i can practically see you drooling.” janet snickers.
you gasp, hitting her softly on her arm.
“that was so loud, what if he hears!” you exclaim, looking over at the pool where michael and his brothers are relaxing.
“oh please, he’s already staring at you.”
your neck snaps towards michael, who’s laying on a float, with his shirt unbuttoned and swim shorts. you can’t exactly see if he’s looking at you since he’s wearing his shades, and marlon seems to be saying something to him. but with the way his head is pointed in your direction, you can’t exactly rule out the fact that he might be looking at you.
you lean back on your sunbed, scoffing. “why would he even be staring at me?”
“because he likes you, and you unfortunately like him.” she makes a face in disgust, still trying to get over the fact that you have a massive crush on her brother.
you laugh, “it’s not unfortunate, he’s cute. really cute.”
she pretends to gag at your words. “okay i can just about deal with you having a crush on my brother, but i can’t and won’t sit here and listen to you absolutely drool over him.”
“you started it. you should’ve never said anything.” you say, watching the way randy jumps into the pool, splashing everyone even you a bit.
“damn it, randy.” janet yells, wiping her arms off with her towel that was hung at the back of her sunbed.
“that’s what happens when you girls refuse to get in the pool.” randy grins.
“im tanning.” janet holds up her middle finger, before settling back and closing her eyes.
“what about you pretty girl, you wanna come in the pool with us.” you laugh at the nickname randy has given you, because unfortunately from the first day he met you and he called you that, it’s seemed to have stuck.
“sure.” you shrug, taking off your shades and plopping them on your sunbed.
janet lifts her shades up and gives you a cheeky wink.
“stop it.” you laugh, taking off your cover up that’s wrapped around your waist.
you slip into the pool, and right away you’re getting splashed with water from randy.
“randy!” you squeal, splashing water back at him.
you shriek, swimming to the edge of the pool coincidentally next to michael and his float.
“quit it.” michael says to randy, when he sees you trying to get away from him.
“oh you hiding behind mikey now?” randy smirks, when you hide behind michael’s float.
your smile is so big that you’re surprised your cheeks ain’t aching, “i thought i was going to have a peaceful swim in the pool not for you to try and drown me!” you joke.
“that’s why i never go in the pool with them boys!” janet shouts from her sunbed.
“you could’ve warned me!” you shout back, still clutching onto the edge of michael’s float who is laying there unfazed by this whole thing.
“it’s okay pretty, ill get you back next time.” randy gives you a wink before getting absolutely dunked by marlon.
“and that’s what he gets.” michael whispers to himself but you overhear it.
“hey!” you look up at him, brushing some of your wet curls out of your face.
“hey,” he says softly, smiling down at you.
michael tracks the way you bite your lip nervously before opening up your mouth to speak.
“were you watching me over there?” you grin.
“i was.” he says, honestly.
“why?” you question, putting both of your hands on his float, right near his shoulder.
“‘cause you’re pretty.” your heart speeds up at his choice of words.
“you think so?” you ask boldly, you have no idea where this surge of boldness has came from.
“mhm.” he hums, his gaze dropping to your lips. a sudden silence takes over and you realise that your faces are much closer than they were before.
“will yall just kiss already!” marlon shouts, from across the pool.
the tension snaps, you both looking in marlon’s direction.
“that’s what im saying!” janet shouts, making you duck your head in embarrassment.
“you guys are annoying.” michael mutters, settling back onto his float. you were so entranced by him that you never realised that he was leaned over his float just so he could be close to you.
you shriek, when randy catches you off guard yet again with a splash of water.
“you know what!” you shake your head, deciding to splash him back with everything you got.
“wait wait— pretty m’sorry!” he pleads, when you don’t stop.
“that’s what you get!” you laugh, you look back at michael’s float after being distracted by randy for so long, only to see that his float is empty and he’s making his way back inside with a towel on his shoulder.
“where’s he going?” you ask, “it’s still hot outside?”
“he might be jealous...” marlon says, raising a brow towards you and randy.
“huh?” you ask, seeing randy and marlon laughing. “why would michael be jealous?”
“pretty girl, have you not seen the way he looks at you? that man is obsessed!”
you give randy a look in utter confusion. “i- we… we’re friends, i think? i mean i- i find him cute but he hasn’t made any move that suggests he feels the same about me?” you just about sputter out your words, heat creeping up your neck at the thought that michael may feel the same way about you.
he did call you pretty, so maybe that might mean something. but so does randy and there’s nothing romantic about that?
janet says your name with a groan, sitting up on her sunbed. “babe i love you, i really do but you’re acting really stupid right now.”
“what?” you exclaim.
“he likes you!” marlon says, “you really thought this whole time that this was him just being friendly?”
“yeah!” you shrug. “he’s a nice guy!”
“oh my god.” janet throws her hands in the air, dramatically. “girl you better get your butt in that house and search for your man.”
you nearly choke at her words, “he’s not my man!”
“well he wants to be, and i know you want him to be exactly that, so stop acting like you don’t!” janet says, you stay in the pool, staring at her and her brothers in utter bewilderment.
janet says your name, “go!”
you blink away your nerves, swallowing nervously and getting out of the pool with randy’s help.
“make sure he’s not too mad at me aight, i just wanted to give you both a little push,” randy winks at you, sending you into the hayvenhurst mansion in search of michael.
“michael!” you yell, wrapping your towel around your waist.
you check in the kitchen, no sight of him.
you check the living room, nope, not there.
you remember janet saying that his room is on the same floor as yours, just the last door down the hall, so you decide to trust her words and find his room.
you get to his door, knocking on it a few times. “michael! are you in there?” you ask.
“mikey!” you knock again, not hearing an answer.
you go to knock again, but the door opens revealing michael who looks utterly pissed.
you don’t think you’ve ever seen him this furious before, and you want to know why.
“can i come in?” you question, when he just stands at the door in silence.
he steps to the side, letting you come into his room. you look around, seeing albums and vinyls everywhere.
pictures and post it notes stuck to every wall, his room basically looks like a studio booth, just with a bed in the middle.
you turn around when you realise he’s still silent behind you.
“michael what’s wrong?” you ask him, sitting on the couch that’s opposite his bed.
“nothing.” he shrugs. “you didn’t need to come and look for me.”
“well i do because you’re brothers were saying that you were upset, did i do something?”
michael looks at you, really looks at you and sees the desperation in your eyes.
“you did nothing, there’s nothing wrong.” he repeats himself, sitting on the edge of his bed.
you sigh, standing up and sitting beside him. “mikey…” you whisper, trying to amp yourself up so you can ask him the question. you are hoping that janet, randy and marlon aren’t setting you up because if they are, what you’re about to say will be embarrassing. “were you jealous seeing me with randy?”
michael’s head snaps up, and the look in his eyes tells it all. “yes. i was.” he admits, truthfully.
your mouth opens in shock at his words, because they were right. janet, marlon and randy were right, he does feel the same way about you.
“i— i hated seeing you two laugh with each other, or the way he kept on calling you pretty girl and—” before you can stop yourself you lean up and press a deep kiss on his lips, stopping him from speaking. after the initial shock of the kiss vanishes, michael closes his eyes, his hand coming up to the back of your head so he can deepen the kiss.
you let out a small whimper in the kiss when michael gently pushes you down onto the bed so he’s now on top of you. you grip onto his unbuttoned shirt, pulling his mouth harder against yours, as you let his tongue push past your lips. the kiss is desperate, messy, filled with heat and lust. but at this point you don’t care, this is all you’ve needed from when you first saw him.
he breaks away from the kiss panting, his forehead dropping against yours. you give him a few light pecks, not wanting your lips to leave his.
“you don’t have to be jealous.” you pant, your hand coming up to tangle in his curls. “because all ive wanted is you.” this time michael is the one kissing you, his mouth shifting into a grin, kissing you like he just the thought of you makes him hungry.
you wrap your legs around his waist, pulling his body more firmly on top of yours. you gasp in his mouth, when you feel something thick and heavy pressed against your stomach.
michael realises, breaking away from the kiss and looking down to see a massive tent in his swim shorts. you immediately see the embarrassment on his face. “m’sorry,” he sits up and covers his face. “you— you just drive me insane and you’re so pretty and…”
“mikey.” you say, sitting up and pulling his hands from his face.
“it’s okay.” you smile, biting your bottom lip. you put your hand over his bulge, giving it a squeeze.
michael groans, dropping his head back.
“baby…” he moans, just by the light touch of your hand.
“do you want this?” you question.
“yes.” michael says quickly when your hand goes into his shorts, finding his hot and heavy length. “ive never… fuck,” he curses when you wrap your hand around him, your fingers not even touching all the way, “ive never done this before.”
him saying that shocks you because he’s older than you by a couple years, and while you’ve had boyfriends and have fucked a few times… he hasn’t.
you’ll be lying if you say that you being his first doesn’t make you wet.
“that’s okay.” you whisper, climbing off the bed and getting on your knees right in front of him. you pull him out of his shorts fully, gawking at the length and thickness of him.
“baby, you don’t have to—” michael groans, his eyes rolling back when you wrap your warm mouth around his fat tip. you open your mouth wider, trying to get as much of him in your mouth as possible.
you bob your head up and down, humming at the taste of him.
“oh…” he pants, swallowing hard when you look up at him, your eyes filled with lust. “this feels so good.”
you hum, opening your legs a little wider, your clit throbbing just from you sucking him off.
you take him into your mouth deeper, gagging when his tip reaches the back of your throat. you come off his dick with a pop, swirling your tongue around the tip, tasting all the pre cum that’s oozing out.
michael bucks his hips, when you put him back into your mouth, hollowing out your cheeks and bopping your head faster.
you feel his dick twitch in your throat, knowing that he’s so close, “oh gosh…baby!” michael whines. his mouth falling open in utter bliss.
“wait, wait!” michael pants, gently using your hair to pull you off of him.
you look up at him, spit dribbling down your chin, your eyes glossy with lust.
“come here,” michael says, pulling you up from your position on your knees.
“wha— mphhh!” michael kisses you, groaning when he tastes himself on your tongue and pulls you onto his lap so you’re right above his throbbing length.
“wanna feel you.” he mumbles against your lips. you nod, pulling your bikini bottoms to the side and feeling your wetness coating your fingers. you reach behind you, raising yourself up as high as you can, feeling his tip breach your entrance.
your mouth falls open, feeling the delicious stretch of his tip pushing inside of you.
michael pushes his face in the crook of your neck, muffling his moans.
you push your self down slowly, taking in every single thick inch of his length.
once you’re fully seated you pull michael’s face towards you, connecting your lips in a messy kiss.
you hold his face, staring into his eyes when you raise yourself up right to the tip and then drop yourself back down.
you moan, finding a steady rhythm and loving the feeling of his thickness stretching you open every time you reach the hilt of him.
“you feel so good,” michael gasps, leaning back on his hands and watching the way your pussy swallows him.
“hmm… so big. you’re so big.” you whine, bouncing faster and feeling that warm heat low in your stomach.
michael grips onto your hips, laying his back down on the mattress fully, even though his feet are still pressed on the floor.
you grind your hips, rubbing your clit and feeling the coil in your stomach tighten.
gripping your hips tighter, michael starts thrusting up into you, throwing his head back at the utter tightness and warmth of your cunt.
he swears he’s never felt such pleasure before in his life.
you shatter above him, flopping onto his chest, hearing his almost broken moans, while his thrusts quicken until you feel him push his whole length into you, feeling the warmth of his seed burst into your womb.
“holy shit.” is the first thing you hear, after the ringing in your ears subside.
you look up at him with a dazed smile, seeing how fucked out he looks.
his curls are sticking to his head, his eyes are completely glossed over. dare you say that he looks… reborn.
“i didn’t expect that to happen when i just came up here to check if you were okay.” you giggle, dropping your head back onto his chest.
“me neither.” he chuckles, “but im glad it happened.”
“really?” you say.
“definitely. ive been wanting to do that since i saw you.”
you hide your face in his neck, feeling embarrassed after you’ve already rode the fuck out of him.
“mikey.” you giggle.
he drops his head down, giving you a kiss on your temple. “im serious though, i didn’t like the way randy was all over you.”
you laugh, “he said he was just doing that so he could give us a little push and now you have to thank him because it worked!” you gesture between the two of you.
“nah i ain’t ever thanking that big head.” michael grins, rubbing a hand up your back.
you smile, leaning up to kiss him deeply.
who knew staying at your bestfriend’s home would have you shackling up with her older brother.
“you think they’re both okay up there? should i go and check on her?” janet asks her brother’s, who have long since came out of the pool and are just playing catch with a beach ball.
marlon snickers, shaking his head. “if you know what’s better for you baby sis, you better leave that girl alone until tomorrow morning. she ain’t coming down anytime soon.”
randy laughs, shaking marlon’s hand.
janet’s eyebrows furrow in confusion at what they’re getting at. after a couple moments of thinking it over, she nearly throws up at the thought. “ew gross! don’t be saying that marlon!” she shouts, throwing a towel at his head.
“you did ask!” marlon cackles.
“yeah right!” janet pouts, knowing that as disgusting as it is, marlon is right and now she’s unfortunately going to have to share you with michael.
because knowing you and knowing michael, you both aren’t letting each other go.
your best friend is dating one of the jackson brothers and one summer day she invites you over. who knew playing a game of twister would lead to this. (up to bad era).
t/w: smut, 18+ mdni, oral (fem receiving), fingering, p in v, breeding kink i guess? but also no?
statement on ai
part one
The California sun beat down on the pavement as you sat on the grass at the edge of the driveway. Watching through heart shaped sunglasses as the boys played basketball and your best friend sprawled out next to you sunbathing.
You were bored out of your mind and it was too hot to focus on the book you brought.
“Why’d you even bring me with you?”
“You need to get out more and you’re depressed.”
Rolling your eyes, you rested back on your palms. One would think having a friend be engaged to one of the Jackson’s would offer a little more excitement, but apparently not.
You’d been over to the house before, but only briefly. The first time you had been so nervous of potentially getting to see the Michael Jackson that you thought you might puke, but he had apparently been in the studio all night and likely wouldn't be joining.
You were far too embarrassed to ask your friend to get an autograph for you and knew you’d would rather drink a gallon of gasoline than give any sort of a hint of having a crush on the man.
“I’m not depressed,” you muttered.
“Right.”
“I’m not!” You just felt lonely sometimes, is all. And sometimes that feeling grew into not wanting to leave the house for three weeks.
The sound of a car caught your attention as well as the rest of the guys and your heart immediately lodged itself in your throat when you realized it was Michael.
The family yelled their greeting and you watched him get out with bated breath as he dug through the trunk for a moment.
Oh my god I’m seeing him with my own eyes.
“Guys, look! I got Twister.” He held up the box with a smile but it fell ever so slightly when his brothers weren’t paying him much attention.
“Twister? Really?”
“You guys wanna play?” He asked, a little hopeful.
“What are we gonna do with Twister?” Tito asked.
“Come on, it’ll be like the old days—“
“I can’t be playing games,” Jackie laughed him off before turning back to basketball.
“I’ll play with you.” You blurted the words out before you could think better of it.
Marlon pointed at you, “there you go. Problem solved.”
Michael turned to look at you and you felt like you’d been struck by lightning.
He considered you for a moment before he smiled again. “Oh, you must be the best friend I’ve heard so much about, it’s nice to finally meet you.”
Standing up on shaking legs, your own smile was tense. What had you just gotten yourself into? Twister? With Michael fucking Jackson. Good God.
“Keep missing each other, I guess.” There was a brief pause and you nodded down to the box. “So, Twister? Is it alright if I join you?”
You were probably delusional but you momentarily thought you saw him blush.
“Sure, yeah. Follow me.” He gestured with his head as he led the way into the house and you shot a panicked look over your shoulder at your friend whose expression seemed shocked, though amused more than anything.
Breathe. Just fucking breathe. He’s just a guy.
You felt lightheaded as you followed him up the stairs and down a hallway, and holy shit I’m about to be in Michael Jackson’s bedroom.
He opened the door for you and the moment you stepped in, you couldn’t help but smile.
“I love your room,” you said, taking in all the stuff he had.
He set the bag from the toy store down and rubbed at the back of his neck. “Sorry, it’s a bit of a mess.”
“I don’t think it’s messy, just filled with things you love.”
His lips tugged up at the side slightly and he nodded. “I like that.”
A few beats of silence passed and he cleared his throat. “So, I’ll get this set up.”
Forty five minutes later you two were tangled up in a mess of flesh and bone and you had been laughing so hard your ribs hurt.
“You’re cheating.”
“I would never,” he laughed, inching a hand out to flick the spinner.
He tried to move his right foot to blue and the second he shifted you both collapsed into heap on the ground.
“This has been one hell of an ice breaker, I’ve already seen so many sides of you.” You laughed behind your hand and he covered his face, half shy but also an attempt to hide a laugh.
Rolling off of him, you laid down on your back trying to catch your breath. Reality felt fuzzy in a delightful way for the first time in what felt like ages.
“Thank you for doing this, by the way.”
You waved him off, “it was fun. Besides, I needed the reminder.”
Michael rolled onto his side and propped his head up with hand. His focused gaze on you surely made you look like a tomato. “Reminder for what?”
“To not take life so serious, sometimes. I don’t know, be a kid again? It probably sounds silly—“
“No, I get it.”
You shared a smile.
You felt like you had been living on a high the past two weeks after that. Catching yourself smiling without realizing it even though you hadn’t seen him since.
You were in the middle of making dinner when the phone rang. Nearly tripping over one of your cats as you made your way over and plucked it off the wall.
“Hello?”
“Hi, it’s Michael.”
You froze.
“Hello?”
Your tongue felt stuck to the roof of your mouth and then your cat meowed loudly, wanting his dinner.
“Hi, sorry. I just wasn’t… hi.” You squeezed your eyes shut and lightly banged your head on the wall.
“I hope it’s okay, but your friend gave me your number and I just wanted to ask if you were free tonight. I know it’s short notice.”
“No, no. I’m free.” Jesus, desperate much? “Um, what do you have in mind?”
And that’s how you ended up standing on the front porch, too nervous to ring the doorbell. He told you to dress comfortably and you weren’t entirely sure what that meant so you landed on jeans and a crewneck.
Deep breaths, you’re fine.
You rang on the doorbell and a few moments later it swung open and there he was. Dressed in simple black slacks and a white tee. Looking fine as hell.
Focus.
“Come on in,” he smiled and as you walked past him, you got a whiff of his cologne. God, he smelt heavenly.
“So, what’s the plan?”
“You like movies?”
You don’t know how it happened but later into the night you must’ve dozed off, your head slumping onto Michael’s shoulder given the distance between you had gradually dwindled.
You woke up briefly, still hazy with sleep with the glow of the television dancing across your eyes when you felt a weight against you. Michael had dozed off as well, his head resting atop yours and you could now die a happy woman.
You knew it didn’t mean anything.
That’s how your friendship developed. That’s how the weeks went by: simple, elementary-like hang outs. Games and movies mostly. Sometimes a pool day with the rest of the family.
You didn’t mind. You loved it, actually. Getting those small moments with him sprinkled across the months when he had a rare bit of free time.
Your friend flicked some water at you.
“What?” You lowered your heart glasses, glaring against the sun.
“You’re glowing.” She mused.
“In a sun-kissed way or put more sunscreen on way.”
“No, silly. Just… you look happy.”
You shrugged and lifted your shades back up. “I am happy.”
“Good. Keep it up for my wedding, please.”
Rolling your eyes, you kicked water at her.
Meanwhile up on the back patio, Tito had his feet propped up while he and Michael played cards.
“So, what's the deal?”
Michael raised a brow at him, “what do you mean?”
Rolling his eyes at his brother, he nodded to the two girls in the pool. “You and her.”
Michael let out a laugh and shook his head. “We’re just friends.”
“Right. And is that all you wanna be?”
Placing down a card, he let his eyes drift to you. Watching how the sunlight caught in the pool and glimmered off your skin like glitter.
Right off the bat he thought you were beautiful. Seeing you the first time sitting in the sun with those heart sunglasses you always wore, your hair done up in a messy way that still had a sense of intent behind it. When you two first played Twister all those months ago, he couldn’t remember the last time he had been that nervous around a girl.
And he had… thought about it. How could he not? He was a romantic at heart but he felt like with you he had truly found something special. Their own safe little bubble to escape to and he didn’t want to ruin it.
Besides… “I don’t have time for stuff like that, Tito.”
He clicked his tongue, “don’t forget to get out of your own way, sometimes. You’re allowed to want normal things.”
Later that night he woke up in a sweat and his pajama pants feeling a little too tight, the dream he had been having still on the edges of his mind and he groaned before falling back against the pillows.
It wasn’t the first time and probably wouldn’t be the last.
Your sunglasses were perched on your nose as you held some food out to Louie, watching in amusement as the llama plucked it from your hands.
“There you are, Marlon said you were out here somewhere.”
Turning, you saw Michael approach with that smile to die for plastered on his face. “You ready?”
“Mhm.” With a scratch behind Louie’s ears, you followed him back into the house. It was Twister Tuesday, after all.
You had taken off your shoes as Michael shifted through records before deciding which one he wanted to play.
The air felt a little different but you couldn’t quite place why. Maybe it wasn’t different at all. You always felt a little overwhelmed being with him. His presence felt otherworldly. Like his soul was too big for his body.
“I’ve been stretching, so prepare to lose.” You cracked your knuckles for effect and he shook his head with a laugh before spinning the dial.
Twister was a huge mistake.
A massive, horrible mistake.
He didn’t know what was wrong with him. Maybe it was his conversation with Tito, but he knew he’d been feeling… something, for a while now. Maybe his brother just shone a light on it to make it finally click for him.
He liked you.
Which was incredibly annoying because you probably didn’t like him back and now here he was, completely tangled up around your body.
Such a dumb idea.
You turned to get a more balanced angle on your next move and your ass was right next to his crotch and he looked up at the ceiling with a silent prayer.
He was a gentleman through and through but that didn’t stop his mind from racing back to all those dreams he’s had.
Pressing you into his mattress. You bent over in the studio. His head between your thighs in the backseat of one of his cars: the red Corvette to match your heart sunglasses.
Fuck.
“Michael, it’s your turn.”
He cleared his throat, trying to maneuver in the best way possible to reach down to grab the spinner without completely pressing himself into your backside.
A small voice in the back of his head told him to do it anyway, but he snuffed it out.
When it landed on what color he needed to move his hand to, he felt like he was going to throw up his heart but he also couldn’t help the rush of adrenaline.
He could do this. It’s just a game. He bent over slightly to move his hand to the correct position, catching himself from falling over by gently resting his hand on your thigh for a moment and he could’ve sworn he felt you suck in a breath.
“Your turn.” It came out lower than he intended.
When you reached over to spin for your turn, it caused you to push back a bit and directly into him.
He was pretty sure his brain short circuited.
“Sorry,” your voice was a quick whisper and you quickly corrected yourself and he let himself peek down at your face. You were blushing like crazy but what really did it in for him was you biting into your bottom lip.
“It’s okay,” he reassured. Something not quite human was trickling into his mind because he was only aware he had leaned forward till he felt you lightly be pressed into him again.
Your breath slowly grew heavier, or maybe it was his. He wasn’t sure.
“You still haven’t moved.” He muttered, his tone dancing on the edge of a whisper.
What a dangerous game this had turned into.
You hummed and when you slid one of your legs back he couldn’t help it as he sucked a breath in sharply.
Your legs were spread wider now.
And he was as hard as a rock and ninety percent sure you could feel it.
He barely moved and he felt your pulse, there, against him.
Biting down on his lip so hard he thought he might bleed, he spun for his turn.
A moment passed.
Your voice was rough around the edges, “what’s it say?”
He could do this. Either his head was filled with lustful delusions of you also wanting this or he was about to make an absolute fool out of himself. But he wasn’t thinking straight so he went ahead with the reckless idea.
“It says my hand should go here,” and ever so slowly did he dance his fingertips along your side before resting on your hip.
You jolted but he kept his grip firm and when you whimpered he felt whatever restraint he had snap.
He grinded into you.
“Oh.” Your balance shifted and you fell forward on your hands, knees buckling but he went down with you, easily turning you over so you were laying beneath him on the floor.
The moment he caught sight of your blown pupils, he knew he had you.
“Michael?”
“Yeah?”
Your breaths were heavy as his face was mere inches from yours.
“Please—“
His mouth was on yours not a moment later, his heart fluttering when he felt your arms wrap around his shoulder to bring him closer.
It was messy and perfect.
His hips settled against yours and like always they had a mind of their own. But instead of music making them move, this time it was a woman.
He thrusted against you, the layers of clothes between your bodies beyond irritating and having you moan into his mouth only sent him into more of a frenzy.
He had never done this before.
His conscience prayed he locked the door because he knew his mother would have a heart attack even though he was in his twenties.
His tongue danced against yours and his hand lightly gripped your chin. You tasted like those cinnamon candies you loved and he couldn’t get enough of it.
His other hand danced down, hooking onto the edge of your pants to begin tugging them down and he decided he wanted to explore some more. His mouth and tongue trailing down your neck and chest, pushing your shirt up and out of the way.
When his mouth landed on one of your nipples, your back arched off the ground and you slapped a hand over your mouth.
“I wanna hear you,” he tugged your hand away and reached over to quickly turn the music up a little louder.
“Let me hear you,” he repeated, trailing his mouth down over your stomach and his eyes caught yours as he finally began to tug your pants down.
He had no idea what he was doing. But he was a perfectionist and he was determined to figure out how to make you feel just right.
“Michael, I’ve… I've never actually—“
“I haven’t, either.” He leaned forward and kissed you again. “We’ll figure it out together.”
You didn’t know what to expect, just that you were sure you had to be dreaming.
Then his fingers were suddenly down there and your hips jolted in surprise.
You were definitely awake.
And Michael was moving your underwear to the side and lightly dragging his fingers over you and you nearly thought you might cry.
In fact you thought you might start sobbing out of ecstasy when you watched him lift two fingers up to his mouth to get them wet before reaching back down.
Not like he needed to but you appreciated the visual.
God, his hands. You had always loved them but you had suddenly found a new appreciation for them as one slowly started to sink in.
“Oh!” That’s all you could manage with your head thrown back. It was a little tight but it didn’t hurt.
“You’re beautiful,” Michael muttered and you looked back at him and saw he genuinely looked mesmerized.
You were sure you were about to melt.
“I need more.” He was going torturously slow and it wasn’t enough. Not nearly.
He didn’t waste time as he sunk a second finger in and began to thrust them in and out, leaning forward with his other hand to capture your mouth with his.
It felt like you’d been injected with opium the moment his thumb trailed upward and rubbed against your clit. An embarrassing sound left you and you felt him smile into your mouth.
“I like that sound.”
And since he was good at everything almost immediately, he worked you with his fingers like it was second nature to him. Watching you with half lidded eyes as you came undone beneath him.
Just as you realized you were about to come, he disappeared from your line of sight and suddenly felt something hot and wet against you and you had to bite back a shout.
The moment you looked down to see him with his mouth on you as his fingers thrusted, you came.
Although you two still had your regularly scheduled game or movie nights for when he was available, some other things were thrown into the mix.
He couldn’t seem to get enough of you. Even if the hour was absurd after working on his next album, he’d call to see if you were awake.
Now, you two hadn't gone there yet. Though you desperately wanted to and he clearly did as well.
God, you felt high.
Two nights ago he had called a cab to come pick you up from your apartment and had you driven to his studio. It was three in the morning, the night silent.
When you knocked on the studio door and it opened, you didn’t even have time to say hello before his arms were around you and his lips were on yours.
He loved to kiss. Seemed to adore it.
Had you pressed against the wall and devouring you like he was starved.
You loved it and sometimes when you were going to bed at night you grew terrified you’d wake up and this was all a dream.
Two weeks had passed and you hated how much you missed him. Becoming addicted to his presence, which was inherently problematic given most of the time he was on tour for months on end.
You were curled up in bed trying to read a book when the phone rang and you practically lunged towards your nightstand.
“Hello?”
“Hey, baby.”
You let out a silent yell at that and fell back into the bed, kicking your feet in the air.
He had never called you that before.
You cleared your throat. “Hey.” So nonchalant, nice. “How’s New York?”
“Oh you know, busy. But I do like it.” There was a beat of silence. “I wish you were here.”
You stayed up talking till four in the morning.
A few more days had passed and this was supposed to be the day he came back. He said he’d call once he was settled at home and you couldn’t help but pace all day.
Deciding to hell with it and start getting ready.
You really didn’t know what you two were. Obviously not just friends, but you’ve never actually talked about it.
You wouldn’t even know where to begin and dating someone like him came with, well… the whole world being in your business.
You didn’t know if you could handle that. Then again you could be getting way ahead of yourself and Michael just liked fooling around.
He was the biggest star in the world, why would he have time for a girlfriend?
As you finished your hair and makeup you told yourself you didn’t mind, getting these pieces of him was enough. You were lucky. Just appreciate it while it lasts.
Besides, based on literally every news piece about him, girls throw themselves at him all the time. What makes you different?
Tying a robe around you, you were digging in your closet for an outfit when there was a knock on the door.
Your head was so caught up in the depressing cycle of your thoughts that you hadn’t bothered to look through the peephole and you stopped short at the sigh of Michael standing in front of you.
“What?-“
“I couldn’t wait.” He stepped in and grabbed hold of your face as he kissed you, kicking the door shut behind him.
“Michael, I would’ve cleaned—“
“Shut up.” He picked you up, blindly navigating your apartment considering he had never been there before.
You felt a little giddy at his urgency, meeting his mouth with a matched ferocity and eventually felt him lower you onto your bed.
You sat up on your elbows as you watched him undo the buttons on his shirt before tugging it off his head. Biting your lip as he undid his belt with ease.
He paused for a moment as his thumbs latched onto the edge of his pants, looking at you with a hungry glint in his eyes.
“I want you to be my girl.”
You bit your lip, trying to contain your smile and you nodded. “I want that, too.”
“Publicly,” he added. He seemed tense all of the sudden and you sat up, inching towards the end of the bed and you rested your hands on the sides of his face.
“Michael, I’ll be there. Right by your side.”
His eyes shut at your touch. “The press is… they’re like hounds. I just want to protect you from that, but I don’t want to hide you either.”
“Hey,” you pulled him into a hug and felt your heart beat against his as his arms wrapped around you. “As long as we’re by each other's side, they can’t get to us. They don’t matter, it’s just you and I. Okay? I can handle it.”
He pulled back a bit, brushing some of the hair out of your eyes. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
Michael hummed and before another breath could pass, he had you on your back again and was kicking his pants off.
You’d seen him a few times now, but the sight of him still made your mouth water.
As he began to crawl up the bed, he kicked your legs apart with his knee and when you realized you two were about to properly have sex for the first time you felt so lightheaded the room started to spin.
You had honestly been under the assumption he wanted to wait to go all the way until marriage.
“This needs to come off,” he tugged at the sash of your robe and pushed the fabric aside, clearly pleased there was nothing underneath it.
His mouth was on yours, open and hungry, his tongue tracing the inside of your mouth and catching the gasp you left out when you felt the tip nudge against your entrance. Gliding up and sliding against your clit before going back down again, feeling like an absolute tease.
“Michael,” you didn’t mean for it to sound like a whine but it slipped out anyway.
He pressed his forehead against yours, seeming to try and restrain himself.
“I want to put a baby in you,” he said it quietly, almost to himself and you were sure you went even more red if possible.
“I… I mean, maybe one day. I’d prefer a ring first.” You weren’t entirely sure if you had crossed a line saying that because he leaned back to look at you. Really look at you.
Biting the inside of his cheek as he did so, and after a moment he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear and kissed you lightly.
“Noted.”
Then his hips snapped forward and your jaw fell into a silent scream.
It was overwhelming in all the best ways and he laughed as his mouth caught yours, not wasting a second as he began to thrust into you at a relentlessly delicious pace.
Based on his dancing alone, you knew he could move his hips but oh my god.
You didn’t mean to but your nails dug into his back, desperate to find something to cling onto and you were sure you drew a little blood. It didn’t seem like he cared, in fact it might’ve spurred him on further because he then hooked both of his hands under your knees and brought them up, folding you in ways you didn’t think possible and fuck did he hit a whole new angle.
“Michael,” you cried. It felt good. Great. Too much.
“Say my name,” he urged, his pants heavy in your ear and you knew you’d never get enough of him.
You cried out his name again as you came, only half aware you were crying until you felt his thumb wipe away the tears and his thrusts got erratic.
You were sure you were seeing a glimpse of heaven as you watched him falter, his hips slamming into yours, muscles in his stomach tightening and his head thrown back as he came.
He collapsed on top of you, your sweat coated bodies and the scent of sex in the air providing a blanket of comfort.
You felt him twitch inside of you, maybe still a little too delusional to realize what the two of you had just done.
“I told you I wanted a ring first.” You half joked.
Michael kissed your shoulder and laughed.
Actually, he was laughing a little too much and you raised a brow at him. “What?”
“Would it be insane to say I already have one picked out?”
Four months later, the two of you walked hand in hand out of the wedding venue. Waving and smiling to the hundreds of press and fans as Bill ushered you to a car.
It wasn’t your wedding, but you and Michael decided to make it official with the public at his brother's wedding.
The glint of the engagement ring on your finger caught the flash of every camera.
Once the door shut, the outside world got a little quieter and Michael lifted your hand to his and placed a kiss on your knuckles.
The Bad tour would be starting soon and you’d get a little less time with him. That was alright, you’d be joining some of the major shows at least.
You assumed the universe knew the timing wouldn't be right and you didn’t end up pregnant. That didn’t help the slight heartbreak you felt when you handed him the negative test, watching his smile falter a bit but covering it up the best he could. He had pulled you into a hug, saying you’d try again soon. That it would happen when it was supposed to.
“Michael, I love you.”
He squeezed your hand with a smile. “And I love you.”
It was his second show at Wembley and you knew he was exhausted. He wouldn’t be up for a few more hours, given the sun was only just starting to rise.
You had already been up for an hour, fingers thrumming on the counter as you sipped on some tea. The ring on your finger a little heavier given you two had gotten married during a gap on the tour.
You were now Mrs Jackson everywhere you went and it was just a little bit sweeter considered you and your best friend were now sister-in-laws.
You still got butterflies every time you saw him. Your husband. He really wasn’t shy about you and you loved it. Blushing anytime he walked by because he loved to lightly slap your butt.
Your eyes flicked down. Not knowing what to do next. How long to let him sleep. He needed it, you knew that. You also knew he’d mad if he found out you didn’t tell him as soon as you knew. You also knew that anger would evaporate in a second.
He could sleep a little longer.
It was around noon when he finally got up, rubbing at his eyes and calling out for you with a rasp coating his voice.
“Baby?” He walked out into the living area of the hotel suite, pajama pants hung low on hips and he kissed you good morning.
As he turned around to grab some orange juice from the fridge, you slid the pregnancy test across the counter and watched in slight amusement as he came to an abrupt halt the moment he turned around.
You bit your lip, “you’re gonna be a daddy.”
His hand came up to his mouth, apparently speechless for a moment before he turned to look at you. Eyes turning red but you didn’t have time to dwell on it before he picked you up and kissed you.
(this was most definitely nawt a self insert)
michael jackson masterlist
if you’d like to be on the taglist for all mj fics, please leave a comment under this post.
ꫂ᭪݁⋮ ┆ he can't resist watching you get ready. whether it be you getting ready for him, getting ready to go out, preparing yourself before bed so you wake up all pretty. it doesn't matter. michael finds time to watch you at your vanity. he's infatuated.
he'd watch with his mouth parted a little with his head tilted to the side, or with the laziest, prettiest, boyish smile resting on his lips. he'd make sure to remind you how beautiful he thinks you are, or ask you which lipstick you were planning on wearing, or let you know which perfume of yours was his favorite, despite you not asking.
ꫂ᭪݁⋮ ┆ he thinks your little habits are adorable. he begins to pick up on them as well.
you're always fixing your jewelry so the clasps aren't showing. soon enough, michael is twisting your necklaces around for you, putting on your bracelets for you tight enough so that they don't turn, buying you thin little thongs because he knows you hate panty lines.
he wipes the gloss from that little dip underneath your plump bottom lip after you eat, knowing that you were gonna do so as soon as you checked out your reflection in that pocket mirror you carry everywhere. he knows you too well and your little habits become some of his favorite things.
ꫂ᭪݁⋮ ┆ your femininity drives him crazy. the way you have no shame in fluttering your dark lashes up at him when you ask him something or when you smile at him. the tight nightgowns you wear to bed that stop right at the middle of the swell of your ass. your feet are always pedicured and you always make sure to have earrings on.
you never leave without spraying the column of your neck, collarbones, and that spot in between your breasts with perfume. every spot you'd want him to kiss.
angel face needs a pretty girl at his side to love and adore.
michael had been a fan of yours long before he ever met you.
it started with one movie while he was stuck in a hotel room somewhere in europe. then another. then another. before he knew it, he was asking people if they had seen your latest film and getting weirdly excited whenever your interviews came on television. michael liked that you never seemed prepared for them.
while everyone else in hollywood answered questions like they had practiced in front of a mirror before, you always looked like you just wandered into the conversation by accident. half the time you were laughing at something you had said yourself, so when he spotted you across the ballroom at a charity gala in 1997, he knew exactly who you were.
what surprised him was how normal you looked. you weren’t working the room or posing for photographs. you were sitting with a group of older women from the organizing committee, listening so intently to one of their stories that you didn’t even notice half the celebrities walking past your table. he couldn’t stop glancing over, so later while trying to grab a bottle of water, he nearly walked straight into you.
“oh! i’m so sorry.”
you looked up then immediately giggled.
“michael jackson apologizing to me is crazy.”
his face turned pink so fast it was impressive.
after that, talking to you was easy, easier than it should’ve been. he kept waiting for that awkward moment where the conversation stalled out and one of you had to pretend to be interested in the decorations or something, but it never happened. one topic just kept leading to another.
michael’s secretary came over and reminded him that he was supposed to be speaking with one of the donors, and michael nodded, said he’d be there in five minutes, and twenty minutes later he was still standing exactly where she’d left him.
by the time the night started ending, most of the guests had already gone home. staff members were stacking chairs near the back of the room and collecting abandoned programs from empty tables, and somehow the two of you were still talking. when you finally hugged him goodbye, michael sat in the back of the car afterwards staring out the window like an idiot.
this was an idea that came to me last night and i wrote it so fast, so apologies if there is any mistakes ^-^
ִֶָ۶ৎ˖ִ ˚ with love part 2 | michael jackson ۶ৎ˖ִ ˚
this is part 2 for: with love
pairing: !m.jackson x reader
synopsis: two months after the incident, michael finally begins to understand the hurt he caused—but earning forgiveness proves much harder than saying sorry.
cw: angst
˚˖𓍢ִ໋❀ a/n: truthfully, there were so many ways that I could’ve written this, but I wanted it to be a little bit more angsty and for reader to have a bit more of a backbone. it is written that I could possibly write a part three if there is interest!
the first voicemail came three days after you left. you didn’t listen to it.
when you got home from work and saw michael’s name glowing on the answering machine, you walked right past it. the little red light blinked steadily in the dim apartment, reflecting faintly off the kitchen counter whenever you crossed the room. somehow, it felt like an accusatory tiny pulse of hope you were too exhausted to touch or listen to.
then another message arrived. and another after that. they were never long or dramatic. just michael. quiet. hesitant.
“hi.”
a pause.
“i just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”
another pause.
“you don’t have to call back.”
the blinking light remained there for many days before you finally gave in and listened, you mostly listened because you were tired of seeing it every time you walked through the apartment. you stood beside the machine while the message played one by one. one of your hands resting against the counter’s edge. his voice loud through a faint layer of static on the old machine, familiar enough that your chest tightened before he had finished the first word.
the silence you had worked so hard to build these past few months were now suddenly loud with michael’s voice everywhere. the echo of late night conversations in the hallway, the scrape of a chair pulled back from the table, laughter drifting from another room. the apartment seemed larger than it had that morning.
beneath it all sat the uncomfortable truth that you still missed him. deeply.
but missing him changed nothing.
it didn’t erase the nights spent waiting for him, staring at cold dinners and dark windows while the clock crept forward. it didn’t undo the fact that he only realized something was wrong after you had finally left. and it certainly didn’t make up for all the times you had tried to explain your loneliness, only to watch his attention drift away before you finished speaking.
meanwhile, michael kept telling himself this was temporary.
during the first month, every unanswered call became proof that you needed space. you were cooling off, and you would call when you were ready. he never allowed himself to sit with the possibility that you might be done with him entirely. he kept rearranging the story into something so he could survive
then one evening, he dialed your number. the line rang and rang and rang, and michael stared at the wall, already rehearsing what he would say when you picked up. the house smelled faintly of dust and orange juice.
when the machine answered, he forgot everything he had planned to say.
“hi.”
silence on your end was deafening
“i just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”
“you don’t have to call back.”
click.
the apartment felt strangely loud afterward.
standing there with the receiver still in his hand, he suddenly saw things he had ignored for weeks. the packed box by the door that he had stepped around before you left. the nights you had fallen asleep on the couch waiting for him, a blanket twisted around your shoulders. the way you had gradually stopped telling him about your day because he was always in the middle of something else.
what he didn’t see were the countless moments before that. the times you swallowed your disappointment and changed the subject, the times you watched him speak with bright, excited eyes and decided not to interrupt. those memories had disappeared so quietly that he had never noticed them slipping away.
by the second month, they followed him everywhere.
then the gifts started arriving.
flowers at first. then increasingly expensive things he remembered you mentioning or admiring in passing. luxury boxes appeared at your door week after week, each accompanied by a brief note written in his familiar handwriting.
“thinking of you.”
“i’m sorry.”
“i hope you’re okay.”
the words were simple, almost painfully so, as though enough beautiful things could somehow bridge the distance between you. as though regret could be wrapped, shipped, and delivered overnight.
you thanked the delivery drivers and stacked the boxes in a corner of your apartment without opening most of them. the problem had never been that michael failed to give you things.
the problem was that when you needed his time, his attention, his presence, there had always been something else demanding it first. still, he kept ordering more.
designer gifts arrived at your door in the hope that somewhere among them would be the one thing capable of earning your forgiveness. yet every tracking confirmation felt emptier than the last
no package ever came back with a reply.
one night, around one in the morning, michael found himself sitting at the piano. the house was quiet. a cassette recorder rested beside him.
he pressed a few keys absentmindedly, then stopped. normally this would have been the moment he called you.
“listen to this.”
his hand hovered over the keys. the last note lingered in the room, vibrating softly through the wood. the recorder sat untouched beside him. beyond the window, the city glowed.
for the first time, the pattern became impossible to ignore to michael. every memory that surfaced had him talking, performing, explaining.
across from him, you were always listening.
he searched desperately for a memory where he had done the same for you and came up empty. you couldn’t see the man sitting alone at the piano, finally hearing the silence he had left between you. you only knew the version of him who never seemed to notice.
the realization landed quietly. his fingers slipped from the keys.
“damn.”
the word barely disturbed the room.
he dropped his head into his hands. he suddenly understood how long you had been alone while sitting right beside him. and because he understood it now, when there was no one left in the room to tell him. for perhaps the first time in two months, michael stopped feeling sorry for himself, and started feeling sorry for you.
three days later, your phone rang while you were making a drink.
you almost ignored it, but then you saw his name.
for a long moment, you simply stared at the screen while the ringing continued.
once, twice, three times.
before you finally answered.
neither of you spoke at first. you could hear him breathing on the other end.
“hello?” he said quietly, as if he couldn’t quite believe you were there.
you closed your eyes.
“hi, michael.”
the silence that followed felt heavier than any argument you had ever had.
when he spoke again, his voice cracked.
“i’ve been trying to reach you for two months.”
“i know.”
“i didn’t understand before.”
you leaned against the counter. the scent of coffee drifted up between you and the cooling evening beyond the window.
“no,” you said softly. “you didn’t.”
another silence stretched between you.
then the words came spilling out of him.
apologies, regrets, confessions he should have made months ago, maybe years ago.
he told you about the piano. about the empty house. about finally seeing everything he had missed.
“i know saying sorry doesn’t fix it,” he said. “i know that. but i need you to know that i see it now.”
you listened, the same way you always had. only this time, he seemed to notice. when he finished, neither of you spoke for several seconds.
“can we try again?” he asked finally.
the question hung between you.
you looked around your apartment. at the unopened gifts in the corner. at the life you had slowly begun rebuilding without him.
you thought about the woman you had been when you left, and the woman you were now.
“i don’t know” you admitted.
the words settled heavily in the quiet. on the other end of the line, he inhaled sharply.
“please” he whispered.
you said nothing.
“please come back.” his voice broke completely.
“i’ll do better. i’ll listen. i’ll be there. just… please.
you stared out the window at the fading evening light, watching the last gold along the buildings dissolve into blue.
two months ago, you would have known exactly what to say. now you weren’t sure, and maybe that was the answer, or maybe it wasn’t.
michael kept talking, his voice rough at the edges as he pleaded for another chance. you listened in silence, fingertips curled around a mug that had long since stopped steaming.
when the call finally ended, the apartment remained still around you. you set the phone down gently.
you still didn’t know whether you were going back.
and neither did he.
tagging you guys in part two! @michaelswife-jackson @cafe-lectura
𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒂𝒊𝒏𝒔 ❤︎ desperately horny reader who gets princess treatment in the bedroom! 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭: missionary, dirty talk, size kink bc jaafar is big af. breeding kink, unprotected sex, creampie, jaafar is a soft dom because of course he is… also i just had to mention his ass twice sorry hehe.
today had been tiresomely long. your boyfriend had spent the day doing press for 𝑚𝑖𝑐𝘩𝑎𝑒𝑙 from 9 to 5, and you’d gone with him, watching from behind the cameras. of course you loved being there, but the problem was that he looked so fucking sexy in his silk shirt and those perfectly tailored black pants, and by the time you both got home, you were more than ready to rip everything off him. it was ovulation week, so that made sense…
⟡ ۫ . ✉️ — “woah baby, can you at least wait until we get through the door?” jaafar chuckled as you pawed at the collar of his shirt, pressing open-mouthed kisses from his jaw to his adam’s apple, faint lipstick stains marking him up. he kept one arm around your waist to make sure you didn’t stumble. you hadn’t consumed a single drop of alcohol—you were just ditsy with your desperation.
you’d both just stepped out of his car, and he'd forced you to behave in the vehicle during the entire journey, so now, back on the doorstep of your shared home, you decided you’d display your need as shamelessly as ever.
“no, you’ve had me waiting all day,” you murmured against his jaw, before kissing him with tongue. he hummed into the kiss, still smiling, then laughed and pushed your head back gently.
“most days we don’t have sex until evening.”
you gave him a pointed look, threading your fingers through his. “most days i haven’t had to stare at your gorgeous face for eight hours straight.”
“okay, whatever, i get it,” jaafar only chuckled again, and took out his keys to unlock the front door. “i didn’t realise i was that appealing just sitting and talking.”
you wrapped your arms around his neck, leaning into his chest—so, so desperate to feel him wholly. “you’re kidding me, right?” you hummed airily into his skin. he smelled incredible, as usual.
he kissed the crown of your head as the key rattled in the lock, and then he pushed open the door.
“finally,” you sighed as you clung to him. he shut the door behind you both, locking it with the free hand not holding you, and then after you each took off your shoes, both his arms moved to wrap around your waist, and he rocked you in his hold.
“what do you wanna do, baby?” he whispered into the crown of your head, where you still rested in the crook of his neck like a cub clinging to its mother.
“i think you know,” you replied sweetly, pulling back to look up at him with those eyes he could never say no to. not that he would even want for a second to say no to you this evening.
“i think i do too,” he smirked, running his hands up and down your back before resting them at your ass over your jeans. he gave the area a squeeze, and if you weren’t so horny you would’ve made a joke about the ass he was packing down there himself.
you batted your lashes up at him playfully, waiting for him to drag you upstairs and have his way with you, like you’d been waiting for all day.
“jump,” he ordered with a teasing smile, and with a giggle you kept your arms around his neck as you jumped up into his hold, wrapping your legs around him.
you let out a soft gasp as he bounced you a little in his arms, and then he was off up the stairs immediately, bringing you with him pressed against his chest like a princess being rescued. in your case, rescued from the mundanity and sexual frustration of the day.
jaafar brought you to your shared bedroom and let go of you to lay you down in the sheets, a graceful fall from his embrace as you anticipated all that you craved.
quickly, you shimmied out of your jeans and threw off your shirt, leaving you in only a matching set of baby pink underwear. jaafar was also wasting no time getting undressed—you watched as he too threw off his shirt, and began unbuckling his belt.
there weren’t many sexier sights (or sounds too, for that matter) on this earth than jaafar unbuckling his belt after a long day. you bit your lip as you looked up at him. he then pulled his pants down and off, before tugging off his boxers too and tossing them somewhere. now his thick and fully hard cock stood up against his abdomen in front of you, the tip flushed with need.
you moaned involuntarily at the mere sight of him positioning himself over you, and immediately you reached down to stroke his length.
he shut his eyes tight at the feeling. “oh fuck baby…”
“yeah, does that feel good, handsome?” you asked, loving to feel the ridges of each vein against your smooth palm.
“perfect, shit—” he moaned as you sped up your movements, but a few moments later you pulled away and his attention was brought back to your pleasure only. you had been waiting all day after all, and he had a feeling you were ovulating. in some insane way, he could often tell which point of your cycle you were at.
“j, i need you so fucking bad,” you moaned against his lips as he kissed you, his tongue swirling against yours.
“yeah i know, princess,” he cooed, starting to tug down your pink panties without having to be told twice. “patience, alright?” he flung them somewhere by his own underwear, and then lastly he removed your bra, pressing kisses and softly biting all over your chest as he did so.
“wait a sec,” he leaned over to his nightstand and pulled out a drawer, “i'm just gonna get a condom before we get carried away with ourselves and forget.”
but you grabbed his bicep to stop him. “no. i want it raw, please j.”
he raised a brow, having definitely not expected those words when you were completely sober. “you sure?”
“yeah, i’m sure," you said quickly. this didn't need to be a whole discussion—you just needed his cock. "now please shut up and fuck me, baby—i don’t think i’ve ever been more horny in my life.”
he laughed at your words, that beautiful grin lighting up his face, and he positioned himself over you again, thumb rubbing your cheek softly. “okay, i know you need it hard right now, so that’s what we’re gonna do, yeah?” he whispered so intimately.
you nodded, beaming.
“but aren’t you ovulating, baby?” he smacked the head of his cock over your clit several times, and your hips jolted with the force of the pleasure.
“mmph,” you whined against the pillows. “yeah, i am. how did you know?”
“i have special powers,” jaafar smirked, still sliding the weight of himself up and down your soaked pussy. every single slight touch and movement set your body alight with what felt like microdoses of ecstasy, you were that horny. it was almost as if your body truly was begging for a baby.
except that was ridiculous, because neither of you had ever once considered parenthood as a serious reality in the nearby future. the fact was that right now you weren’t thinking about the reality of anything. all that was on your mind was your gorgeous man and his equally gorgeous assets.
“okay, so you’re really sure?” jaafar asked for what felt like the millionth time.
“yes, baby—just fuck me,” you sighed, but the amused look on his face at this unrestrained episode of neediness made you chuckle.
“manners,” he ordered, brows raised in a playful scold, now teasing his tip at your entrance, pushing in ever so slightly just to pull out again, and repeat.
“please fuck me, sir,” you replied with a sweet smile, expecting more teasing, but instead he pushed in—finally.
jaafar's cock was so so girthy, length at least six inches, so he guided himself in gradually, letting you adjust. no matter how horny you were, he didn’t want to risk hurting you.
although, he knew you wanted no mercy tonight, so once he’d bottomed out, that first rough thrust felt like you’d ascended to heaven. he hit your spot instantly, as always, and his low groans above you only added to the perfection of the moment.
he’d worked out a lot in preparation for the movie, so his biceps were a beautiful sight for sore eyes, and you found yourself lost in that sight as he rested one hand up on the headboard behind you, his muscles flexing. with each harsh thrust the headboard knocked against the wall, a rhythmic noise that sounded in between the moans spilling from both of you.
his thick cock hit that spongy, sensitive spot inside you with every stroke, and you gasped and whined each time.
“jaafar, baby, fuck—”
“yeah, you good, princess?” he murmured through groans. he could barely contain himself. to him, it was a slice of heaven being inside you.
your response wouldn’t leave your lips because all that you sounded out were lewd noises as his thrusts never once let up or slowed.
“hm? tell me how good it feels, baby girl. talk to me.”
jaafar then shifted positions slightly, from hovering above you to now being pressed completely against you, skin on skin. his body suffocated yours in the most beautiful way, everything feeling so incredibly intimate. your hands went to his curls the second he moved, the strands always your favourite thing to hold while he fucked you into oblivion.
he was gazing down at you, your foreheads touching, and you tried to meet his eyes, tried to respond to his question, but the pleasure was just too much. your eyes only kept fluttering shut, your incoherent mouth exposing how much of a cockslut you were for your man.
“mhm—i—oh fuck j, i can’t—”
“no, talk to me, beautiful,” he murmured in your ear, kissing every inch of your face. “‘m making you feel so good, huh? you gonna cum for me soon, sweet girl?”
through more gasps and moans, you finally managed to respond lucidly. “yeah—mmh—gonna cum—i love it when you fuck me so deep jaafar, oh m…”
each time you called him by his name during sex, he always nearly lost his mind. it was the most perfect thing for him to hear you moan his name while all fucked out beneath him, his cock plunging in and out of your tight walls—he as the sole cause of your ecstasy-like pleasure.
“that’s it, my angel… keep telling me all about it…”
“baby, i can hardly speak,” you breathed out, giggling in his ear. he smelled so fucking good, and you could feel him everywhere with how his body was caging you in. now you reached one hand down to grip his ass—that ass the whole world was talking about—while your other hand remained tight in his curls.
he chuckled in your ear too, but never paused concentration. he bit his lip hard with the force of his relentless strokes, leaving you wondering how on earth he was managing to keep this up for so long without slowing down. his stamina was off the charts.
“i know, baby girl. but you like getting fucked dumb, huh?”
now your nails were running up and down from his ass to his shoulder blades, the pleasure building constantly.
“yes i do j—mmmh, that’s it baby, i’m close—”
“yeah me too sweet girl… i know… let me get you there.” he pulled back a little in order to reach a hand down and rub your clit, while the other kneaded one of your breasts. he twisted a nipple between his fingers and you almost screamed, having to smack a hand over your mouth because of the neighbours. jaafar only laughed, finding it all so amusing, and that famous smile never failed to give you butterflies even when you were already on cloud nine.
“i’m gonna eat your pussy after this,” he grinned, still toying with your clit expertly.
“yeah?” you half-sighed half-laughed, nails still raking up and down his back. “it’s my special day.”
“well, whatever my girl wants, she gets.”
“i’m so blessed,” you giggled.
now his thrusts were beginning to falter, but you could tell that was due to how close he was to his orgasm.
“j,” you gripped his strong bicep, “i need your cum so fucking deep, i’m serious—”
“i’ll give it to you baby,” he groaned, the pace turning erratic now that he was so close. “shit, this pussy is fucking insane… so tight, fuck—”
and then you felt it all. spurts of his hot cum filled your womb, and he thrusted through his release while you continued to react like a whore beneath him.
it was only moments later that you reached your own climax, toes curling, body seizing in the most ethereal pleasure. you couldn’t believe how jaafar managed to get you like this every time.
when you both caught your breath, jaafar collapsed on top of you, his head on your chest, cock gradually softening inside. you loved this part so much.
he took a deep sigh against your collarbone and then spoke. “i need to fuck you raw again. right now." he began pressing light kisses all over your chest.
you chuckled, playing with his hair. you were the only one who he ever allowed to touch those pretty curls.
"but first, i'm eating you out," he added plainly. "like i said."
you blushed, smiling down at him, a rush of contentment running through your body and down to your most sensitive area. you were in the mood to be overstimulated tonight.
“i love you, baby,” you whispered, beaming. “you’re so good to me.”
tag list .☘︎ ݁˖ @enzo6ekiii @cinnamoncunt @kpheliaox @lov3lylxvender @honey-dip-24 @calicopetal @vheavxly @ladyluvbugs @daniiibananiii @iadoreyourdiioorr @lavendernightsky @imsoborediwannadie @honeygl0ws — let me know if you would like to be added, or just like the linked tag list post above
⊱ Michael is hyper-aware of your mouth. If you're sitting together on a couch he will abruptly stop talking, lean in incredibly close, and just stare at your lips. When you ask him what's wrong, he'll reach out a long, slow thumb and trace your bottom lip, smearing your gloss slightly. He'll give a soft, breathy chuckle and whisper
"You just had a little something right there... looked pretty distracting."
He won't pull his hand away either; his thumb will linger, feeling the heat of your breath until you have to swallow hard.
⊱ If you're wearing a new dress or a tight pair of jeans, he will turn it into a full production. He'll make you stand up and do a turn for him, his eyes scanning you from head to toe with an intensity. He'll walk around you like a hawk, and then, his large hands will slide under your hair to adjust the collar or the zipper at the back of your neck. His fingertips will trail down your bare spine, giving you full-body chills, before he softly murmurs, "Yeah... fits you perfectly. Especially from the back."
⊱ He has a way of mixing absolute puppy-dog sweetness with pure flirtatious filth. He'll look at you with those big, soulful eyes and ask you about your day in the gentlest voice, but the second you lean in to whisper a secret to him in a crowded room, he'll use the cover to whisper something completely unhinged right back into your ear.
"You smell so sweet today, makes me want to find out if you taste the exact same way under that skirt."
Before you can even process it or yell at him, he's already pulled back, giving the people around you a polite wave and leaving you completely burning alive.
⊱ This man cannot stay out of your delicates. He will wander into your dimly lit bedroom, slide open your dresser, and let his long, shaky fingers sift through your panties. Touching the cotton, tracing the lace of your most provocative, see-through pairs. Just the thought of those flimsy pieces of fabric sitting snug against your skin is enough to make him strain hard against his trousers.
⊱ He's a total thief when he's desperate. He will literally bring a pair of your lace panties to his face, breathing in your perfume and the faint linger of your scent until it drives him crazy.
He'll lay back on your bed, close his eyes, and picture you riding him—envisioning your small hands on his chest, your hips bouncing, and your pussy gripping him tight. He'll wrap your underwear tightly around his girth, his breath catching in a broken whimper as he furiously jerks off right into the fabric.
⊱ While he's pleasing himself with your clothes, his mind goes to incredibly dark, possessive places. He isn't thinking about a gentle, friendly encounter.
He's imagining pinning your hips down, cutting off your whimpers with his mouth, and driving into you hard enough to hit your cervix. He loses his mind thinking about the exact face you make when you fall apart, picturing himself filling you completely to the brim, shooting his cum directly inside you until you're overflowing.
⊱ When he finally snaps out of it and sees the mess he made-your light blue lace entirely darkened and soaked by his release—he doesn't even feel guilty. He just gets a thrilling, wicked rush from the sin of it.
He'll carefully fold the damp panty back up, tuck it deep under a pile in the drawer so you won't notice right away, and act like a perfect, innocent angel the second you walk back through the door.
(𝟏𝟖+) ──── notes: childhoodbsf!popstar!reader ╱ see 𝒂𝒖 𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒓𝒐. heavy breeding kink ⋆ description of sex across multiple days around ovulation ⋆ so much cum ⋆ michael loves to watch his release leak out of you! and he’ll eat it too!
𝟏𝟗𝟖𝟏, 𝓵𝒐𝒔 𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒍𝒆𝒔 𝒊𝒏 𝓼𝒑𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈…
To say that you planned to 'try' for a baby seemed like poor wording for a couple who never needed to deliberately attempt to trigger conception. That risk followed you around almost every time you had sex, and miraculously, you'd so far succeeded in never accidentally getting pregnant. There was that one scare though, which you preferred to pretend didn't happen, because it had led to a very embarrassing ordeal with Katherine Jackson.
So with how often you recklessly had unprotected sex, you most definitely didn't need to plan to make your baby. A few nights of mindless insemination would do the trick, but Michael wanted the night you conceived your child to be very special. Or the multiple nights, rather, because you obviously couldn't be certain which night would be the night.
And so, for the entire week around the time of ovulation that month, Michael treated every night with the same grace and thoughtful purpose. He had finally moved out of Hayvenhurst two months ago when you married, so now you had a huge house all to yourselves. He dimmed the lights, lit up the bed with candles, then made sweet love to you in the most heart-achingly slow way, always having one hand interlaced with yours, and the other cradling your jaw. For that whole week, every single night was spent in the same routine, with your husband rocking into you aside warm candlelight and the mingled scent of flowers and sex. Each of those nights you went at it for hours at a time, between missionary, prone bone, mating press, cow girl and reverse...
But Michael refused to do anything with you that he deemed as on the 'dirtier' side while you were babymaking, because he felt those methods of sexuality didn't align with the evening's intention. He wouldn't give you backshots, nor would he let you give him oral, or do anything on your knees. He wouldn't talk dirty—he'd speak only praise, although that's what he did most of the time anyway. And in cowgirl, he hardly even let you bounce—instead planting his feet on the bed and pounding you from underneath, running his hands all up and down your body.
Michael was masculine in a very specific way. To describe him as a soft dom would be putting it too simply, for he was much more complex with the way he loved on a lady in bed. Since he lost his virginity to you in '78, he grew to believe that making love to his goddess was the single most precious thing in life, that he should give her absolutely everything, put her pleasure above all else, and treasure her until the end of the earth. He was inherently soft-natured and gentle, what one may deem submissive in that sense, but such would be an incorrect statement to make regarding Michael Jackson, because while Michael could definitely lean into submission if he wanted to (often he did so in his post-sex haze), his dominance lay in the mode of admiration he displayed during your sexual encounters. He almost always took the lead, and was so naturally talented with his hips. You never had a single night of dissatisfaction.
Throughout those ovulatory evenings, missionary was your go-to, because it felt the most intimate. Chests pressed against each other, your limbs locked around his torso, and Michael's thrusts were beautifully slow and deep; almost too slow at times, because he was treating your fertile body like a sacred object. He always did, except now he'd taken that sacred care to a whole other level, where you were in the arms of a man who adored you so much that he felt he had to pay close attention to every single aching inch of your walls with each stroke. While you made your very first baby, the most important thing to Michael was that he deeply took in and appreciated your inner angelic ambience. Since he was a boy he'd dreamed of the day he would start making his own family, free of Joseph's constraints, and he never believed it would be with the girl he then went on to spend years 'platonically' cuddling and playfighting with. Now he was here, at the grown age of twenty-two, nestled deep inside that same girl, whispering in her ear everything he loved about her. Tender love and care—that's all you deserved. Michael would happily spend a lifetime in a never-ending process of continual conception, because nothing had ever been more intimate.
The first night you began trying, it had honestly felt like you'd lost your virginity all over again. You giggled like shy teenagers as he first pushed in, smooching all over your face while you tugged at his hair playfully.
"Mikey, I can't believe we're really doin' this..." you sighed in half-nervous, half-excited anticipation.
"I know, I feel like 'm in heaven, baby..." Michael moaned, stroking your face as he bottomed out. You gasped and squeezed his hand that he'd already met with yours.
"But remember," he added, "if you change your mind at any point, 'n decide y' not ready, that's perfectly okay. Just tell me."
You nodded, kissing his nose. "No, I really think I'm ready. Wow," you took a deep breath, "this is really happening."
"It is really happenin', angel." As he said the words aloud, Michael had smiled so wide it made your heart ache.
Sometimes in that week you had to actually plead with him to go faster, because while you were perfectly satisfied with the slow strokes, you didn't always need him to be so gentle with you. And of course you were ovulating—which was the whole point—so you had primal urges that needed to be satiated.
"No, honey, I wanna keep takin' it slow... Need to really feel ya..." Michael hummed into your neck as he sucked there, rolling his hips with precision, tip nudging your sweet spot perfectly each time.
"Sweetheart, we've been at this for two hours already," you laughed. "You've made me cum three times. I think we can say you've treated me with more than enough care tonight—now I just really need you to go faster. Please, baby."
Michael giggled, now pressing wet kisses over your breasts, around your areolas. "Okay, fine."
Every time he came inside you, he'd instruct you to lie on your back for ten minutes, then he'd lay with you and cuddle while his warm seed still explored your walls. He'd suck on your breasts, play with your hair, sing whimsically under his breath, talk to you about the most random topics on his mind—doing enough for the duration of what he believed was enough time passed for his cum to really reach enough depth. You told him that all of that was probably mythological—that there was more likely no ritual that actually aided fertilisation. Luck was all you needed, and the sheer number of times Michael had spilled himself into you that week had to have been enough without the alleged pregnancy hacks in between that he insisted on adhering to. But of course he continued to insist.
"Darlin', if y' lay on your back it gives the sperm an uninterrupted path upward. We don't want any slippin' out."
"Whatever, baby," you'd chuckle, heart racing at how obsessed he was with filling you up now that there were no negative consequences. You'd never seen him act so wild before, and he was unironically treating this process as a full time job. Never had he given such focus toward anything outside of the recording studio.
Whenever you laid on your back after a round, obliging with his orders, he'd rest forward on his elbows and examine your soaked pussy like a damn gynecologist. He'd rub his thumb just slightly over your entrance, noticing the way you hissed at the feeling, but without his usual primary intention of making you feel good—rather, he was just genuinely intrigued, and insanely captivated by his breeding endeavours. For those ten minutes you laid there, he'd rest on your thighs, breathing in the scent of your post-sex core, the mixed flavour of his release and yours. You'd stroke through his curls, always ending up smacking his head lightly whenever he lost sight of what he was doing and accidentally started playing with your overly-sensitive clit.
"Nuh-uh," you scolded, with a playful whack to his head. "Wait."
He'd always roll his eyes in frustration, but do as he was told. "Mama, y' not gonna make me lie here without lettin' me touch."
"Michael, you've been touchin' me nonstop. Take a break, honey. Matter of fact, give my pussy a break."
A heart-warmingly genuine laugh came from his throat.
"And," you continued, so amused, "you're telling me I made you lie here when it's you who told me that I have to?"
Michael ignored that, pressing a kiss to your thigh before sitting up on his knees and crawling up to the top of the bed to be beside you.
Once the remaining minutes were over, he eagerly dipped back down to his favourite place, instructing you to lift your hips so that his pearly, sticky release would drip out. It slowly formed a damp stain on the pillow he'd put beneath you, and he watched in awe as the liquid flowed like a filthy river from your sex.
Using two fingers, he dragged the salty filth up and down your slit, circling around your hole before drenching your sensitive flesh. Despite how vocal he always was, he mostly did this part wordlessly, too focused to say anything; and each time, you watched in complete disbelief at how he never grew tired of enacting this same activity. To Michael, smearing his thick cum all over the part of your body that would give his baby life was the most lewdly precious activity, and in the moments where you weren't way too sensitive, he'd lean in after his examination, licking up the sloppy mixture.
"Just wonderful, honey..." his soft voice would murmur against your swollen bud.
On one night that week, you were both attending an award show, and following the ceremony you skipped the afterparty altogether—to your friends' confusion—because despite how incredibly sexually active you'd already been that week, you both couldn't wait to rush home and make love some more. The outside world was secondary to the inner sanctuary you shared, and especially in the most important week of all. You'd initially suggested to Michael that you could both attend the afterparty but have sex in a bathroom or another locked room—or that you could stay out for a while and then later go home to have sex—but your husband didn't enjoy the prospect of either idea. Yes, it was night four, where you'd already spent hours per night in the bed that despite its luxury was so close to breaking, and yes, he'd hoisted you up against the shower wall that morning and gave it to you twice, but in Michael's eyes, those sessions were no reason to disrupt what he had planned.
During your fertile period, he had firmly decided that the evening into late night was for lovemaking, no matter what outdoor activities were on offer. And you couldn't complain that he was so specific about that self-determined rule. What better excuse to have sex with your man all night long for a week straight than for the purpose of conceiving your first child?
And Michael was so excited to meet his unborn child. Outside of the hours he spent buried inside you, he couldn't stop talking about your future baby—and by extension, the babies plural, that would later follow. You would laugh at him when he'd go too far into the future, reminding him to stay in the present and not get too ahead of himself, but when he said yet again that he wished for eighteen children—almost double the number his parents had produced—you obviously weren't on board in the slightest.
"Michael," you chuckled, laid in the crook of his bare neck as you drew circles just above his nipple. "You better shut the hell up about this eighteen kids thing. 'm serious, don't talk about that shit with me." You were serious, but you continued to laugh because he was just so ridiculous, never looking at life situations logically.
"Honey, 'm sorry, I just want so many." He smiled bashfully, pulling your naked body closer into him.
"Oh, I can see that." You raised your brows in amusement.
"We've got a huge house—I just wanna fill it w' so many beautiful children."
"And that would be amazing, baby, except I don't think my vagina would be very happy."
Suddenly Michael froze at the realisation of his accidental bordering on typical male coercion, although you knew that's not at all what he meant. He just hadn't thought it through properly, lost in the heartwarming image of two football teams' worth of kids running around with him.
"Oh—yeah, that's um, really bad of me, 'm sorry, sweetheart. I wasn't thinkin' of it that way."
"Mikey," you laughed, "I don't think my pussy has been out of your mind for five days straight—and now you're tellin' me you forgot about that part of childbirth altogether?"
He chuckled shyly, shaking his head, then shuffled a little downward to face you properly. You squeezed his cheek and ruffled his hair.
But there was another thing your newly-wed husband couldn't stop obsessing over—and that was the prospect of what you'd grow to look like while pregnant. How your curves would swell, how you'd look fuller in all the places he already cherished most. And the thought of your breasts working through hormonal shifts to create milk for his baby... he felt as though he might go insane at the first sight of that image. He hoped you wouldn't think he was strange for wanting a taste.
And oh, you couldn't have been even slightly prepared for how insatiable he'd be. If you thought your husband was addicted to you now, just wait until you were heavily pregnant, all sexy and swollen with his child...
this is my #1 fave thing to daydream about… i’m having a ball writing out all my thoughts for this blog hehehe. <3
──── tag list: @slickdickwitchbitchh @xyahx @nuhveah @darkgreengrl @savagenctzen @filmedlovee ╱ comment to be added!
synopsis: while you were at home caring for you and michael’s new born baby, he was out entertaining other woman while on tour.
warnings: cheating, angst, crying, baby involved, mentions of not eating, arguing with a baby present, no happy ending.
a/n: hi i know ive been gone for a little while, but im in a angsty mood so here yall go. and i don’t believe michael would ever cheat on anyone, especially the mother of his child, but it’s all fiction.
the late afternoon sun filtered through the nursery curtains, casting a warm, golden glow over the room. you swayed gently in the rocking chair, cradling little evelyn against you chest as she fussed softly, her tiny fists bunching up your shirt. it had been one month since she was born, and exhaustion had become your constant companion.
you cooed softly to evelyn as you walked through the house to grab her bottle, “daddy loves and misses you, doesn’t he baby?”
you bounced evelyn gently as you walked into the living room, mourning soothing words into her small head of hair. the tv was on in the background, providing some noise to keep you from feeling completely isolated in this quiet house.
you sank into the plush beige sofa, adjusting your position to support evelyn’s head. the rhythmic drone of the entertainment news was the only other sound in the room besides your daughters soft breathing.
you rubbed your tired eyes with your free hand, feeling the weight of the last few weeks pressing down on your shoulders.
the news ticker scrolled across the bottom of the screen, but your mind was too focused on getting evelyn to finally drift off to pay it any attention. you hummed a quiet melody, one of michael’s songs actually, gently patting her back. just as her eyelids began to flutter shut, the anchorman’s tone shifted dramatically, cutting into the entertainment segment.
“michael jackson spotted getting cozy with a mystery woman at an LA club!” the headline flashed on the screen, and a photo appeared showing michael in a dark club, his arms around some beautiful woman who was definitely not you.
your heart stopped for a moment, your arms tightening protectively around evelyn.
the camera zoomed in on the grainy photo—michael’s face was unmistakable, that signature curly hair, those sharp cheekbones, his lips pressed against the strangers in what looked like a passionate kiss. the woman was stunning, blonde and wearing a red dress that hugged every curve. your stomach dropped, a cold emptiness spreading through your chest as the reporter continued talking.
“—the relationship drama brewing behind the scenes of the bad tour. security footage shows jackson sneaking out of the stage door around 2am. fans are devastated, but jackson’s reps claim this is just a close friend…”
your vision blurred as evelyn started fussing again, sensing the shift in your energy. the remote slipped from your numb fingers, hitting the floor with a thud.
you stared at the tv, disbelief and hurt warring in your mind. evelyn’s cries grew louder, pulling you back to reality. you rocked her frantically, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes as you tried to soothe her and yourself. “shh, baby…shh…”
you managed to quiet evelyn down and settled her in her bassinet, her tiny chest rising and falling as she finally drifted off to sleep. the quiet of the house pressed in on you now, the silence deafening. you walked back to the living room on unsteady legs, your eyes glued to the tv screen even though they’d moved on to the next story.
your hands trembled as you picked up the remote, your thumb pressing the button to rewind the news segment. you couldn’t stop watching that photo—michael’s face, his smile, his arms around that woman, his lips on hers. the denial that started in your gut slowly turned to ash as you replayed the footage over and over.
tears finally spilled over, streaming down your cheeks silently. you pressed a hand over your mouth to muffle your sobs, not wanting to wake evelyn.
how could he do this when you were home alone with his baby?
anger started to mix with the hurt, burning in your chest.
you grabbed your phone with shaking hands, your first instinct to call him and demand an explanation. but then you saw the time—it was 3am in LA. he was probably sleeping, or worse, out with her. the thought made you feel sick.
you set the phone down, your jaw clenching. you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of hearing you cry over the phone. not when he was out there living his best life while you were drowning in diapers and sleepless nights.
your stomach growled, reminding you that you hadn’t eaten all day. but the thought of food made you nauseous.
the hours ticked by slowly as you sat there in the dark, the only sound being the soft hum of the tv. you couldn’t stop staring at that photo, your mind racing with questions and accusations. when dawn finally broke, you were a mess—red eyes, pale face, unbrushed hair.
you heard evelyn stirring in her bassinet and mechanically got up to check on her. she was awake and hungry, her tiny mouth sucking on her fist. you changed her diaper and sat down to feed her, your eyes still welling up with tears every time you looked at her perfect little face.
the days blurred together after that. you told no one—not your family, not your friends. you couldn’t bare the thought of them seeing you as pathetic for staying with a man who clearly didn’t value you. even though you were emotionally exhausted and drained, you still fed evelyn, changed her, sang to her, all while feeling completely hollow inside.
you didn’t eat much, just forced down crackers and water when your body demanded it.
every morning, you’d wake up and immediately check the entertainment news, dreading what you might find out. there were more photos of michael out partying, sometimes with different women but always looking carefree and happy. it was like he didn’t care if you saw these photos, like he was doing it on purpose.
two weeks passed like this—a lonely, miserable existence revolving around evelyn’s needs. you barely recognised yourself in the mirror—pale skin, dark circles, lifeless eyes. but you kept going for her sake. she was innocent in all this, dependant on you completely.
then, one evening, the front door opened. it was michael, standing in the doorway with a duffel bag slung over his shoulder and that dimpled smile you once found so charming. “baby, i’m home!” he announced cheerfully, stepping inside without waiting for your response.
your body went rigid. evelyn was in her bassinet, cooing softly.
“god, i missed you so much.” he breathed into your neck, holding you tightly. “i missed my girls.” he pulled back, looking at you with those mesmerising eyes. “you look tired, baby.” he frowned slightly, noticing the changes in your appearance. “have you been eating enough?”
you couldn’t speak, couldn’t move. all the pain and anger from the past two weeks boiled over, but you kept it inside. evelyn started to fuss, saving you from having to respond. michael went to her, picking her up and nuzzling her cheeks. “my little angel,”
“daddy missed you,” he cooed, bouncing her gently, his face lighting up with pure adoration. the contrast was sickening—this loving father who had abandoned his family for two weeks to party with strangers. you stood frozen in the middle of the living room, watching him play the doting dad while your heart shattered all over again.
“come here, baby.” he looked at you over evelyn’s head, his smile softening. “come give me a kiss.” he moved towards you, expecting you to melt into him like before. but you stepped back instinctively, your arms wrapping protectively around your waist.
the smile faltered on michael’s face, confusion flickering in his eyes. he stopped, his brow furrowing. “baby? what’s wrong?” he adjusted evelyn in his arms, stepping forward again, completely oblivious to the storm raging inside you. “i’m home…aren’t you happy to see me?”
a bitter, broken laugh escaped your throat before you could stop it. “happy?” you whispered, the word tasting like ash. you turned away, walking to the tv stand and picking up the stack of tabloids you’d hidden there. you threw them onto the coffee table; the glossy covers stared back—photos of michael with different women, smiling, laughing, partying, cheating.
michaels expression turned to shock as he looked down at the magazines, then back up at you. evelyn whimpered softly, sensing the tension. his jaw tightened, and for a moment he just stood there, silent. then he sat evelyn down gently in her bassinet before turning to face you fully.
“baby, i can explain,” he started, his voice wavering slightly. he reached out towards you, but you stepped back again, your eyes blazing with hurt and fury. “explain what, michael? that you couldn’t keep your hands off every woman in LA while i was home alone with our daughter?” your voice cracked on the last word, tears spilling freely now.
“it wasn’t like that…” he pleaded, his hands raising defensively. “i was working! the tour—it was stressful, i was just…blowing off steam. that’s all it was.” he tried to touch your arm, but you flinched away violently. “blowing off steam?” you screamed, your voice echoing through the quiet house. “you were humiliating me!”
“you left me here with nothing but a newborn and a credit card! and a promise that you’d be home in two weeks! do you know what i went through? do you even care?!” you gestured wildly at evelyn, who was now crying properly, her tiny face screwed up in distress. michael rushed to pick her up, rocking her frantically, whispering soothing words.
“baby, listen, i was an idiot,” he said desperately, bouncing evelyn in his arms. “i got carried away, i didnt think about how it would look…i wasn’t actually sleeping with anyone, i swear.”
lies. all lies.
“i wasn’t actually sleeping with anyone, i swear.” the words hung in the air between you like a bad joke. you stared at him, at the man you once adored, now reduced to pitiful excuses. your gaze drifted to evelyn in his arms, her cries finally calming as she snuggled into her fathers chest, trusting him completely.
“that’s funny. because it sure looked like you were fucking half of hollywood,” you spat, your voice cold and bitter. michael flinches as if he was physically slapped. he opened his mouth to argue, but no words came out. instead, he just stood there, holding evelyn tightly, looking lost and guilty.
the room was silent except for evelyn’s soft babbling as she played with michael’s hair. the contrast between her innocence and the toxic atmosphere was stark. michael’s eyes searched yours desperately, but you just felt numb. no anger, no sadness, just nothing.
“i don’t even know who you are anymore.” your voice was flat, drained of all emotion. michael looked like he’d been punched in the gut, his confident persona crumbling. “i thought you were different. i thought you loved me.” he stepped closer, reaching for your hand. “baby, please—“ you pulled your hand away. “don’t.”
“don’t touch me. don’t call me baby. you lost that privilege when you decided to break my trust and kiss every gold digger in los angeles.” your words were like knives, cutting deep into michael’s already wounded ego. he staggered back slightly, holding evelyn tighter as if seeking comfort from his innocent daughter.
“i’m not staying,” you said clearly, picking up your phone and purse. “i’m going to my moms. i need air. i need space. i need to not look at you for twenty four hours.” you couldn’t breathe in this house anymore, not with him pretending everything was okay. evelyn whimpered, reaching for you. the sound shattered your soul.
as you turned to leave, michael suddenly grabbed your waist from behind, spinning you around. you gasped in surprise, finding yourself trapped against his chest, his arms wrapped tightly around your waist. evelyn cried louder from her bassinet, sensing the sudden tension again. “no,” michael said firmly, his voice low and commanding.
“you’re not leaving,” he stated, his fingers digging into your hips. his breath was hot against your neck as he held you against him. “not like this. we’re not done talking.” you struggled against his grip, your heart racing with fear and anger, but he was too strong. evelyn’s cries grew louder, more frantic.
“shh, baby, it’s okay,” michael murmured soothingly, his forehead pressing against your shoulder as he tried to calm you and the baby down. but his arms remained locked around your waist, preventing you from leaving. evelyn’s screams reaching a piercing peak, breaking your heart and making michael wince.
“let me go, michael!” you hissed trying to wiggle free. your struggle only made him tighten his grip, he wasn’t letting you leave like this. evelyn’s cries reached a shrill pitch, her little face turning red with frustration.
“no,” michael repeated stubbornly. he was not letting you go, not now, not when you were this upset. not when evelyn needed you. he moved his hands to grip your arms, “look at me.”
you glared at him, tears streaming down your face. “i hate you!” you shouted at him, shoving at his chest with all your might. but he didn’t budge, his grip on your arms tightening. evelyn was hysterical now, her tiny fists waving in the air as she wailed for you.
michaels eyes flickered with pain at your words but he didn’t release you. “you don’t mean that,” he whispered, his thumb stroking your arms gently despite him not letting you go. “you love me. you’ve always loved me.”
“did,” you corrected coldly, wrenching one arm free. “past tense, michael.”
“you don’t mean that,” he repeated, his voice breaking slightly. his eyes searched yours desperately, trying to find any sign of the love you once had for him. evelyn’s cries grew weaker, her son’s turning into hiccups as she ran out of breath. “baby, please…”
“don’t ‘baby’ me!” you spat, wiping your tears aggressively. “you ruined everything. you ruined us. you ruined our family!” the words hung heavy in the air. michael froze, his face crumbling. the grip on your remaining arm loosened, his shoulders sagging under the weight of four devastation. in the bassinet, evelyn whimpered softly, exhausted from crying.
for a long moment, michael just stood there, his hand still resting on your arm, not gripping anymore. his jaw worked slightly before finally breaking. “what do you want from me?” he asked hoarsely, his voice barely above a whisper. “tell me what to do to fix this,” tears spilled over his lash line.
“you can’t fix this,” you whispered back, your voice breaking. “actions have consequences, michael. you slept with other women, you destroyed our relationship, and you broke our family.”
your resolve crumbled at the sight of your baby. you gently pulled away from michael, rushing to the bassinet and scooping evelyn into your arms. she immediately calmed in your arms, feeling safe. you rocked her gently, tears streaming down your face as you held your baby close. michael watched you both, his expression raw and broken.
“i’m sorry,” michael whispered, his voice cracking. he took a tentative step towards you both, reaching out to touch evelyn’s tiny hand. “i’ll do anything,” he pleaded, tears streaming down his face now.
“anything isn’t enough,” you said softly, pressing a kiss to evelyn’s forehead while rocking her. you looked at michael, your eyes cold and void of the love that used to reside there. “some things can’t be unfucked, michael. our relationship is one of them.”
“our relationship?” he repeated, horror evident in his voice. “you’re…you’re leaving me? ending this?” he looked at you both—his crying daughter clinging to you, his girlfriend looking at him like he was a stranger. “i can change,” he begged, stepping forward again.
“no, michael. you can’t change. not enough to fix this,” you said firmly, though your voice shook slightly. evelyn looked up at you, her big eyes filled with trust and love. you knew you’d do anything to protect her from the pain her father had caused. “you cheated on me.”
michael flinched like you’d slapped him, his face paling. “i know,” he whispered, looking away. “i know i did.” he ran a hand through his hair, tugging at the strands in frustration. “but it didn’t mean anything!” he turned back to you, desperation in his eyes. “you’re my girlfriend.”
“girlfriend?” you repeated, the word tasting bitter on your tongue. you held evelyn closer, turning your back on michael slightly to shield her from the toxic energy. “a girlfriend you cheated on, michael. a girlfriend you humiliated. a girlfriend you betrayed.” your voice cracked, and you had to swallow hard to keep from breaking down completely.
michael was silent, his shoulders slumping in defeat. he knew you were right. he’s screwed up. big time. he watched as you turned away from him, cradling his daughter like she was the only thing that mattered. and maybe she was.
“i love you,” michael said quietly, his voice raw. “i still love you.” he took a shaky breath, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. “evelyn…she needs both of us. i need both of you.” he reached out hesitantly, his fingers hovering near your shoulder but not quite touching. “please…”
you exhaled sharply, ignoring his outstretched hand. “love?” you scoffed, a bitter laugh escaping you. “your definition of love seems to include fucking other women.” evelyn stirred in your arms, sensing the tension, her little fingers curling into your shirt. you kissed her head softly, whispering reassurance to her, “she needs stability, michael.”
“i can give her that,” michael insisted, stepping closer despite your coldness. “i’ll be better. i’ll prove it to you both.” his eyes were red and puffy, desperation for redemption. “just give me a chance to fix this.” you looked at him, really looked at him—the man you’d fallen in love with, now broken and pleading.
“no,” you said flatly, the single word cutting through his desperation like glass. “i don’t forgive you.” you adjusted evelyn in your arms, her tiny face peeking at michael—she didn’t understand why her father was crying, why her mother was holding her so tightly. “love isn’t enough when trust is gone, michael. you killed that.”
the reality of your words settled over him—he wasn’t just losing an argument, he was losing his family. “please…” he choked out, sinking onto the sofa, burying his face in his hands. “don’t do this…”
the room was deafeningly quiet, save for michael’s ragged sobbing and evelyn’s soft breathing against your neck. you looked down at your boyfriend, truly seeing him as the man who had shattered your world—not as the king of pop, not as the father of your child, but as a stranger who had betrayed you. you turned away walking toward the door.
“where are you going?” michaels voice was muffled through his hands, but the panic was clear. “don’t leave…” he looked up, his face streaked with tears, eyes bloodshot and pleading.
you paused at the doorway, glancing over your shoulder with a cold expression. “i’m going to my moms,” you stared calmly, as if discussing the weather. “i need some time away from…this.” you gestured vaguely towards michael, your voice dripping with disdain.
michaels heart shrank at your cold tone. he remembered how you used to laugh with him, argue with him, make love with him. now, your voice was like ice—hard and unyielding. “for how long?” he asked hoarsely, already knowing the answer would hurt.
“i don’t know,” you said, your hand on the doorknob. you didn’t look at him. “until i figure out what happens next.” evelyn cooed softly, turning her head to look towards michaels voice, reaching out her tiny fingers instinctively toward her father. michael let out a broken sob. “don’t take her,” he whispered.
“i’m not taking her from you, michael.” you said, finally turning to face him. your eyes were red-rimmed but determined. “she’s my daughter too. but she deserves a mother who isn’t falling apart, and she deserves to grow up in a home without lies and betrayal.” you adjusted evenly carefully in your arms.
michael watched you helplessly as you bent to grab evelyn’s diaper bag, packing it meticulously with her favourite toys, clothes, extra diapers, and bottles of formula. the room was quiet expect for evelyn’s babbling and michael’s silent weeping. as you zipped up the bag, you finally looked at him, tears in your eyes.
“i’ll call you,” you said quietly, though you both knew it was a lie. you walked past him, your shoulder brushing his as you headed for the door. michael reached out, his fingers grazing your arm one last time. “i love you,” he whispered brokenly. you didn’t respond, you just kept walking until the front door clicked shut behind you.
once you strapped evelyn into her car seat, you settled into the drivers seat. the reality of the situation finally hit you. you started to shake uncontrollably, tears streaming down your face.
you broke down completely, sobbing into your hands as you stared at the steering wheel. your chest heaved with grief—for the relationship you thought would last forever, for the trust you’d placed in michael, for the family you were now tearing apart.
you took a deep shuddering breath, trying to compose yourself for your babies sake. she needed you to be strong now. wiping your tears away, you managed a small smile at her through the rear mirror. “it’s okay, baby girl, we’ll see daddy soon.” you started the car and backed out the driveway, looking at the manson one last time in the rear view mirror.
description: you are a lifeguard at one of the most exclusive celebrity pools in california, often keeping to yourself. but a simple errand sparks friendship and more.
content: pre otw!michael, fluff, smut, 18+, fingering, making out, strangers to friends to lovers, kinda long-ish.
word count: 3.5k
your lips pop as you reapply your dark brown lip liner along with your baby pink lip gloss to your pouty lips.
despite all the shouting, splashes of water, whistles, and chatter across the exclusive celebrity pool, michael hears that pop.
his eyes daring to glare into yours from afar, only now impossible due to the bright red hat placed on the crown of your head, shading those big beautiful eyes.
the cold drink, dripping with condensation feels as if it’s getting warmer and warmer in michaels hand the closer he gets to you.
his heart beating just as fast as his current walking pace. his eyes absorbed your presence; noticing the pool water dripping down your neck and arms.
michael was in a daze of admiration up until he came to an abrupt stop—“hey slow down bud, she ain’t goin no where!” ralph macchio teased just before sprinting past michael and jumping into the pool.
michael shook his head nervously and proceeded with a laugh. finally he made it, and there you were, sitting high up.
“hi there.” michael struggled, the words almost didn’t want to come out.
guiding your sunglasses to the top of your head, you glared down blankly.
“hey, is there anything i can do for you?” you say politely, with a look of slight concern.
“oh— uhm, no. i’m totally fine, i was just wonderin’ if you were thirsty, i know you’ve been here for a while.” michael gently grins, using his hand to shade his forehead from the sun to avoid his beautiful view of you being dimmed.
seeing the soda can in michael’s hand, you sigh, “i’ve got my own water up here, thank you though.” you say nearly in monotone. putting your glasses back over your eyes.
“oh okay!” michael says, just before quickly scurrying off into the cafe.
you sigh as you overlook all the familiar heads bobbing out of the waters.
about an hour has passed and your break was finally here. grabbing your book, water bottle, and keys just before going to the clock out station.
before you could even step into the office, your name was called from afar.
turning swiftly, to see your manager, rachel waving you over.
“hey hun, i’m so sorry. i really need a quick favor.” she says, eyebrows raised with hopefulness you’ll agree.
“i’m down for a quick favor, but i was about to go on break. could you maybe let someone else cover—“
“i’ll let you leave early!” your rachel says quickly. “i just need you to go and pick up some fruit from the store, the crates are definitely heavy, but i know you can do it.”
“okay.. leaving early, i like it.” you say with a slight smile. “yeah, it may take longer with those crates but of course.”
“i’m not sure if shawn is back from his break yet, to help you.. maybe i can find someone.” she says, face crumbling in doubt.
suddenly a head peaks around the corner. that familiar afro dripping pool water, that you’ve seen all day; it was michael.
“hey rach did you have anymore—“ he interrupted, cheeks getting hot once he saw you. “oh goodness, sorry for butting in.”
“wow mike, you’re just in time. mind heading down to the store with this kind young lady?” she questioned, a smile creeping on her face.
“oh no i’ve got it rachel…” you said with an expression of reassurance. you strive off of independence and you’d hate for someone to mess that up.
“girl, let that boy help you!” rachel disclaimed, her voice screeching in an annoyed, yet humorous tone— along with the grin still plastered on her face.
the three of you let out low giggles, as michael’s nervousness, your desire for independence, and rachel’s stress died down. “come on michael, i’ll drive.” you say waving him along with you.
the radio blasted summery tunes, as the wind brushed softly against your skin. michael’s cologne and the slight scent of chlorine clouded the car. but you didn’t mind at all.
there was silence for you, but not for michael. he felt as if his heart was about to jump out of his chest. the nerves were eating him up.
soon, they arrived at the small fruit stand. luckily there was no paparazzi— which michael hadn’t even considered due to the fact that he just wanted to spend time with you.
“okay so we need strawberries in this crate, along with mangos, and bananas.” you said pointing to the light blue crate.
michael nodded silently as he loaded the crates up while you paid with rachel’s card.
checking off the list with a smile, you felt accomplished. rechecking it just in case, heart fluttering at the success. now opening up the separate list.
your mind was suddenly distracted. “soooo… how long you been working at the pool?” michael’s voice rang through your ears.
“two summers.” you speak softly, then there was silence.
michael’s voice struck again, “do you enjoy it?”
“mhm. it pays.” you say with a blank expression as you folded the first list and placing it down into the pocket of your red swim shorts.
the silence arrived. michael was unsure what to say. “this one looks good” he said pointing to a watermelon.
you lightly tapped the watermelon and sighed. “it’s terrible.”
“how can you tell?” michael questioned, an eyebrow raising.
“it clearly doesn’t wanna leave with us michael.” you murmer.
the two of you share a small laugh, then you finally finish shopping, after adding more fruit into the second crate.
“a tomato is a fruit!” you exclaim as you and michael walk to the car, you with papers and your purse; and michael holding up two crates, which nearly blocked his eyesight. (but he insisted.)
“oh my goodness girl, i promise you it ain’t!” he says with an unbelievable grin on his face.
from afar, about three girls, probably friends notice michael. they jump up and down and smile. michael just smiles in response.
you keep walking, unaffected as you recall your defense to the very serious disagreement you and michael were having. michael smiled, noticing you didn’t mind the fans.
“michael i’m not gonna argue with you now.” a smile flashes on your face as well. you open up the car door, and the two of you are finally done shopping.
after playfully arguing about fruit and vegetables, the ride back converts back to its silent origin.
“do you ever get tired of being recognized?” your voice topples over the low radio.
michael pauses in his seat. reacting to such an unusual question. “sometimes.”
you just nod, the silence ready to come back once again.
the two of you arrive back to the pool. entering the backside of the cafe, you unload the fruits.
suddenly, a bag of oranges breaks. you groan in annoyance and both of you chase the oranges around the room, giggling.
next thing you know, there’s a smushed orange on the floor and michael’s laying right next to it.
you can’t help but hold your core and laugh. “there’s no way.” you chuckle.
michael is laughing right along with you, despite the light pain on his funny bone.
you come closer to him letting out two hands to help him back up. now, there were two smushed oranges. and you fell right on your bottom.
the laughing got way out of control, the both of michael’s hands still in yours as the two of you laughing from such an unexpected moment.
gently you let go of michael’s hands, just while sitting in front of him, where the both of you slipped, your knees to your chest, same as him.
michael sighed at the loss of your touch, but the sound of your laughter still lingered in his heart.
as the giggling dies down, the two of you are just glaring into each others eyes softly, wondering who will say what next.
“a few friends are having a pool party friday..” you say, gently tracing his knee.
“oh yeah?” michael says, trying his best at acting casual, knowing his heart was racing.
you nod while getting up, picking up some of the messy oranges. “you should come.”
and before michael can even answer, you throw away all the messy oranges and finish cleaning.
“yeah, totally.” he smiles “can i have your— your um number?”
you smile, showing your approval, grabbing a piece of paper towel and a pen, writing your digits and handing them to him.
next thing you know, your back at the clock out machine, a smile lingering on your lips at the thought of him.
it’s now two days later— you brush your hair just before putting on your bonnet and long baby pink night gown.
hopping into bed, you open your new favorite book. the two characters are about to go on a date for the first time, you’ve been waiting all day just for this.
right as you remove your bookmark, the phone sitting on your bedside rings. unsure who it is, you hesitated.
you sigh, picking it up anyways.
“hello?” a warming voice speaks.
“hey there, michael.” a slight smile appears on your face.
“sorry— did i um, call too late?”
you chuckle. “mikey, it’s only 8:00.”
“oh so we’re doing nicknames now?”
“my apologies.. michael, it’s only 8:00.”
“no, no, i liked it.”
you giggle slightly at his playfulness.
“i haven’t been able to stop thinking about you slipping on those oranges— it was supposed to be the bananas.”
“oh wow, that’s what you see me as now?” michael gasps humorously. “don’t ignore the fact that you fell too.”
“woah—woah.. we aren’t talking about me though, are we now, mikey?” you say in a soft sweet tone. something michael has rarely heard before.
his breath hitches in his throat. the way your speaking this late at night, so soft and relaxing. he finally replied, coming out of his daze of admiration. “your right, we weren’t” he breathes.
your smile slowly fades as you readjust in your bed, finger playing with the chord of the phone. “so, the party.. you comin?”
“of course as long as your there.” michael mumbles.
the tension could be felt throughout the phone, it was soft yet, flirty.
you bite your lips, suddenly remembering the situation and how you’d been handling it. you needed to hang up immediately. these romantic feelings are starting to worry you.
“okay, well michael i’ll see you there.” you say back in monotone.
michael shifts at the change in your voice, “oh—okay, see you there.”
next thing he heard were beeps, notifying that the call had ended.
michael leaned back into his pillows sighing in frustration. the thing he wanted most is right there, but she keeps getting away.
you turn on your side getting comfier in the sheets. you groan at the thought of michael. you can’t get him out of your mind— but you don’t need any romance in your life, it stresses you too much ; he’s just a friend.
today’s the day of the pool party, michael agreed to come pick you up, beyond excited you spend plenty of time getting ready.
you turned around in the mirror with ease. your short jean shorts sitting over the revealing bit of your yellow and white polka dot bottoms sculpting your waist, and your matching top, that made your boobs pop, and add a bit a cuteness with the puffing of the short sleeves on the side.
your curls popping, along with your favorite pair of sunglasses— and signature lipgloss.
finally, stepping out of the door, you walk down your driveway, to see michael’s red convertible, with his afro popping out at the top. you couldn’t help but grin at the sight.
michael hops out to open your door, but easily gets distracted by you. “oh wow— you look amazing.” he spoke softly, almost like a whisper to himself.
you thank him as he opens the door for you, allowing you into the luxurious car.
the entire ride is just the two of you glaring at each other, hoping that the other wouldn’t notice.
finally arriving to the party the two of you walk through the luxurious home full of neon lights. as soon as you enter, michael is pulled away by others. you don’t mind so why not go play cup pong? minus the alcohol.
you join the game excited, there was cola in each cup. as you and a few friends played, every now and then you’d see michael across the room searching for you as well.
cup pong is finally over, you didn’t win but you had fun. suddenly ‘blame it on the boogie’ blasts through the loud speakers. dancing along with some of your girlfriends to the music you grin to yourself listening to that familiar voice.
then there’s a hand on your waist. you didn’t even have to turn to know who it was. you knew that cologne by now.
keeping your back pushed against his chest, you and michael began to sway to the music, in a groove. finally you are letting go tonight, not letting the self sabotage ruin something good.
every now and then he’s twirl you around, grind, and even show you some of his moves.
the two of you had been dancing for a while. the entire night you smiled, heart aching with happiness. “i’ve never seen you so loose before.” michael slightly shouts over the loud music in your ear.
you look at him with a questioning face. “oh i know how to get loose, michael jackson.” you grin while flipping your hair in a sassy move.
michael just chuckled in disbelief, yours and his hips both moving in sync to the upbeat. “your always so stern and serious, i thought id never see that pretty smile before this past week.” he states playfully, eyes darting right into mine as we continue to move.
rolling your eyes, you gently grab his hand. “yes, michael— i cut up every now and then. if you don’t believe me, then i’ll just show you.” giggling as the two of you start to walk away from the dance floor.
you and michael stumble through the crowd as you stumble up the stair case. after all, this is your friends home, and you knew it was a hot tub on the roof, but it was private.
finally reaching the roof, michael gasps at the sight.
“there ain’t no way.” he mumbled
“there’s always a way, baby” you say sweetly, not even realizing what you had called him, only because you were having so much fun.
michael blushes at the name, his cheeks now rosy as the two of you slowly sink into the hot tub after taking off your cover ups.
“can i ask you something?” michael finally breaks the silence that flowed along with the bubbles from the hot tub.
“depends.”
“how come you never act impressed?” michael question eyeing her up and down.
silence rang in the air. “should i be?”
a low chuckle slips from michael. “most people are.”
“well—michael, being introduced into the industry by my father, i’m used to it. i’ve met famous people before.”
“and?” he wonders.
you shrug softly, “most of them are just people.”
that exact moment right there, is what made michael see you, and understand you. even after so long of trying to.
“you know… when i first met you, i thought you were kinda annoying.” you say slowly rubbing your arm.
“thats nice.”
you smile, “yeah, you kept finding reasons to talk to me.”
“i did not.”
you eyed him, cocking your head to the side. “now, michael.”
he sighed, following a chuckle. “okay maybe a little.”
“mmm— i don’t know.”
“what?” he questioned
“i’m glad you did.” your eyes glaring right at his.
michael was caught off guard. the common crimson color reaching his cheeks for the hundredth time of the night.
michael continued to stare into your eyes.
“you’re staring.” you giggle.
“i can’t help it.” michael mumbles softly while slowly floating towards you in the small hot tub.
nervously, you play with the curls in your hair. “i’m glad you came, mikey.” you whispered softly while holding your gaze.
michael’s hand traveled up to the curl you were just playing with, “i’m glad you wanted me here.” he spoke, his voice so soft and stable.
the city lights, the music, the people outside, the glare from the pools down below, there were so many things to look at, yet you were looking into michael’s big brown eyes.
he was staring at yours, up until they traveled down to your lips. the steam from the hot tub rises around you both, creating an intimate little world.
michael pulls you closer, your wet bodies pressed together. his hand trembles slightly as he cups your face, thumb brushing your cheek. "can I kiss you?" he asks softly, voice husky.
he leans in, kissing you gently at first—sweet and tentative, his lips moving slowly against yours. but as you respond, his hands slide down to your waist, pulling you flush against his chest.
the kiss deepens, becoming more passionate, his tongue meeting yours in the most delicious way. hot water bubbles around you both as he holds you close.
you whimper softly against his lips, breathlessly whispering "michael..." and it instantly undoes him. he lets out a low groan into your mouth, his grip on your waist tightening under the bubbling water.
hearing his name said like that makes him kiss you harder, tongue slipping past your lips, turning the innocent makeout into something heated and desperate.
michael gently pushes you back against the edge of the hot tub, his lips trailing down your neck.
he kisses and nibbles softly, murmuring against your skin, "god, you're so beautiful..." his hands slide under the water to your hips, pulling you closer as he continues to kiss and praise you.
you tilt your head to give him better access, running your hands through his wet hair. "you’re so good to me, michael..." you whisper, and he lets out a soft moan against your neck.
his hands move to your thighs, squeezing gently as he pulls you apart to stand between your legs.
their kisses turn sloppy and desperate, tongues tangling messily as wet, needy sounds escape both of you. michael presses you firmly against the tub edge, his hands sliding underwater to squeeze your thighs and hips.
you're both trembling and completely turned on, the innocent makeout shifting into something deeply sexual, though he keeps being incredibly loving.
"touch me, michael..." you whimper against his mouth, arching into him. he groans, sliding a hand slowly down your stomach under the water.
but instead of going straight to your core like you need, he teases, running his fingers along your inner thighs.
michael’s trembling fingers brush against your folds before letting out a low chuckle. the hot water making everything feel more intimate. "can I... touch you here?" he breathes against your lips, already positioning himself.
when you nod desperately, he starts slow, gentle circles around your entrance, his eyes wide and sweet. "you're so wet..." he whispers, making you blush. "i thought i was annoying..."
"you're annoying as hell right now," you pant against his mouth, making him laugh softly before diving back into the kiss. he slides two fingers inside you slowly, watching your face for reactions.
"too much?" he asks gently, even as his thumb finds your clit. you shake your head, gasping as he adds a third finger, stretching you perfectly in the warm water.
he keeps a slow, deep rhythm with his fingers, curling them just right inside you. between soft, open-mouthed kisses, he whispers against your lips,
"you feel incredible... doing so good for me." his thumb rubs gentle circles on your clit, making your toes curl underwater. "that's it, sweetheart, just relax... i've got you,"
you cling to his broad shoulders, fingers digging into his wet skin as pleasure builds intensely. your head falls to his shoulder, breath coming in short gasps against his neck.
michael feels you tighten around his fingers and immediately slows, making it sweet and deep. "let go, baby, i've got you," he murmurs, kissing your temple. "i'm right here."
your orgasm crashes over you, making your body tremble violently against his as you bury your face in his neck. "i like you so much, michael..." you whimper out, completely undone.
he holds you through the aftershocks, fingers slowing gently to help you ride it out, pressing sweet kisses to your wet hair. "i like you so much too, sweetheart.”
you kiss deeply and slowly, still clinging to each other as you come down. you can feel his hard cock pressing against your stomach under the water, but he doesn't seem bothered by not getting his own release. he just keeps kissing you softly, hands stroking your back gently.
you two are engaged in a passionate kiss, completely lost in the moment, when suddenly the rooftop door slides open.
your father's shocked expression freezes both of you. michael pulls back abruptly, his hand still resting possessively on your hip under the water. your father's face turns red with anger and disappointment.
"what the fuck are you two doing?!" your father's voice shatters the peaceful atmosphere.
michael stands up abruptly, water cascading off his muscular body, completely unashamed of his nakedness except for the swim trunks around his waist. you shrink back, feeling completely exposed both physically and emotionally.
your father grabs your arm, forcibly yanking you out of the warm water. you stumble out, soaking wet in just your swimsuit, catching michael's eyes one last time.
he nods almost imperceptibly, jaw tight. "call me," you mouth silently as your father drags you toward the rooftop door, his grip bruising.
your dad drags you downstairs and practically yanks you around, furiously. "you are absolutely forbidden from seeing michael ever again. do you understand me? that is final." your face instantly crumples, tears overwhelming you.
your heart breaks completely at the thought of losing michael, who had been nothing but sweet and perfect to you. this was what you were afraid of, letting someone end only for it to fail.— but for michael, you were willing to work for it.
a/n: so guys what do we thinnkkkk???? i’m feeling a part two where she sneaks into michael’s house, or a studio 54 scene —but regardless, i hoped you all enjoy!
a collection of all my manager!michael x gn/fem popstar!reader stories. while works are posted out of order, they're sorted chronologically here <3
i. hold the phone! (album)
hold the phone! — reader's first album with manager!michael, a youthful and girly pop album themed around slumber parties, girliness, prank calls, and fun.
what's in the headlines? — the beginning of something amazing. reader and manager!michael form a strong relationship and fun dynamic during this era. michael subtly begins his habit of spending on and spoiling reader. celebratory dinners are hosted by michael for reader every other night.
works for this era:
sugar daddy tendencies
ii. miss connection (album)
miss connection — reader's second album, a return to her girly sound with hints of more mature themes. this album is themed after connections and misconnections, framing reader as cupid.
what's in the headlines? — fame hits hard. everyone is making choices for reader, choosing her look, sound, rival, and even her boyfriend! reader struggles with her love for her new boyfriend and her fondness of her own manager, juggling both men until finally realizing she truly loves michael.
works for this era:
michael's better company, anyways
him & his sexy ass glasses
he's jealous over your pr boyfriend
vacay? without you? no way!
iii. honestly, (album)
honestly, — reader's third album, a mature exploration of her new self-chosen identity themed around her being the director of her own life.
what's in the headlines? — the messiest era. reader and michael are frequently on and off. both love each other, but fear the consequences of anything permanent. michael reconnects with his ex-wife via co-parenting; reader grows jealous. reader tours this album, selling out stadiums and gaining a reputation for how close she is with her fans.
works for this era:
learning a new lesson (18+)
jealous after an afterparty
it's just the music
iv. intermission (a break in music)
intermission — reader takes a break from music, having established herself thoroughly in the industry.
what's in the headlines? — the resting period. a more domestic time where reader uses her fame to do fun things. reader and manager!michael become official during this era, overcoming doubts and insecurities. reader spends more time with the kids, and the paparazzi and tabloids spread photos of her with them.
works for this era:
none yet!
iv. ask & receive (album)
ask & receive — reader's fourth album. theming tbd.
what's in the headlines? — the victory lap. reader returns to music with a bang. more events tbd.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: inspired by that one video of that fan with her belly piercing but with a twist ━ oops. also me trying to be more comfortable at writing michael that way😭i feel a bit uncomfortable but i hope you guys won’t feel it while reading!
THE GATED DRIVEWAY of Neverland was quiet for once, the last of the evening crew having clocked out an hour ago. Michael had been in the kitchen when he heard the familiar click-clack of heels on the marble foyer. He padded out in bare feet, loose pajama pants, and faded white t-shirt.
She was leaning against the doorframe of the living room, arms crossed behind her back, a wicked little smile playing on her glossy lips. She was wearing a tight, thin, pale yellow ribbed tank top ━ no bra, that he could always tell ━ and some low waisted jeans that she liked.
"Hi, baby," she purred, stepping forward.
Michael tilted his head, suspicious. Despite being together for only a few months, he could already read her like he read himself and, judging by her smile, knew she was up to no good.
"Where did you go? You said you were going to the pharmacy... That was hours ago. I got anxious."
"Mmm," she stopped a foot away. "Sorry, Mike, I made a little detour."
"A detour?" he blinked. "To where?"
"Take a guess," she bit her lower lip. "I have a new… accessory."
Michael let out a soft, airy laugh, the one that sounded like a hiccup of disbelief.
"Aw, c'mon now. I'm tired, woman. Just show me."
She tapped a finger to her chin, pretending to consider.
"Hmm… no. Play with me."
He sighed, a dramatic, theatrical thing, but he obeyed. His hands hovered nervously at her hips, pulling her into his lap as he sat on the couch.
"If this is another one of your pranks with a fake spider…" he mumbled.
"Shh," her voice was a warm whisper near his jaw. "It's better than a fake spider, I promise."
"A ring?"
"No."
"A bag?"
She shook her head.
"A necklace?"
"Getting warmer, baby," she laughed, wetting her lip. "Look closer."
Michael sighed, his eyes observing her face, travelling to her hair for a second. She had obviously not been to the hairstylist and her face was still the same, makeup free like when she had left. Then, he reached up to push his glasses, the thin wire-framed ones he wore when he was reading or working late, further up his nose ━ might as well see whatever prank she was pulling properly.
His eyes lowered to the hollow of her throat where no necklace was present…
And then ━ his eyes gained twice their size.
There, pressed against the thin yellow cotton of her tank top, was an unusual shape ━ two small balls, one on each side of the peak of her breasts, connected by a subtle, rigid bar just visible through the fabric.
Michael stared, his mouth parting. No sound came out for four seconds.
"Wh—"
"Surprise!" she grinned. "Do you know what this is, Mikey?"
His brain short-circuited. He was forty-five years old, he had seen things, done things, but this… this sent him reeling like a teenager.
"You━" Michael shook his head slowly, a disbelieving laugh bubbling up. "Nah. Nah, you playin'. That's not━how is that even possible?"
"With a needle, and a lot of courage, anything is possible," she popped the 'p' with glee. "Right through the little nibble."
"Baby…" he sounded almost wounded.
Flustered pink crept up his neck, clashing with his pale complexion. Michael looked away, then back, then away again, as if the piercings were just too much for him. He pushed his glasses up again, a nervous habit, and swallowed hard. He was definitely too old for this.
"What's the matter, old man?" she laughed. "Never seen a nipple piercing before?"
"N-no," Michael muttered, running a hand over his hair. "Girl, you tryna give me a heart attack."
She leaned closer, pressing her hands flat against his chest.
"That's the opposite of what I want, actually. I want your heart to beat really fast for me."
"It is," Michael swallowed hard. "Trust me, it is."
"Good," she grabbed his hand ━ his long, elegant, trembling hand ━ and pressed his palm flat against her sternum, just above her new accessories. "Want to touch?"
His fingers twitched against the cotton and he could feel the heat of her skin, and then ━ there ━ the faint, impossible hardness of the barbell beneath. His thumb brushed over the shape of the right ball, making her shiver.
"Does it hurt?" he asked.
"Fuck no ━ just sensitive as fuck," she let out a breathy laugh. "So you be nice to me, Mr. Jackson."
Michael looked up at her through his glasses and something shifted in his expression. The shyness was still there, but underneath it, she could see his curiosity.
"Let me see."
Her grin widened. Got him. She hooked her thumbs under the hem of her tank top and pulled it over her head in one lazy motion. And there they were ━ her small, perfect, palm-sized breasts with two gleaming silver barbells piercing each nipple.
Michael inhaled sharply, his eyes tracing the metal through his glasses, the way it was sitting flush against her skin, the way her nipples were already hardened around the jewelry...
"God," he breathed, almost reverent. "That's… that's somethin' else, baby."
"You like it?" she sounded genuinely curious now, the bratty edge softening.
He nodded, reaching out before he stopped an inch from her chest, looking up for permission.
"Can I?"
"Go ahead, but be careful ━ they're very sensitive."
His touch was featherlight, a single fingertip tracing the cool metal of the left barbell, following the bar from one silver ball to the other. She gasped, a quick little sound that made him smile.
"Sorry," he murmured, not sorry at all.
"You're doing that on purpose."
"Maybe…" Michael did it again, slower, watching her face through the lenses. "This what you wanted, woman? Wanted me all flustered and dumb so you could have your way?"
"Maybe," she echoed, rolling her hips just slightly against his lap.
His hands shot to her waist, gripping.
"Uh-uh. Don't start somethin' you can't finish."
"Oh, I fully intend to finish," she leaned down, her lips brushing his ear. "But first, I want you to take good care of me."
Michael whimpered ━ actually whimpered ━ and flipped them in one smooth motion, pinning her beneath him on the velvet couch. She yelped before laughing, then moaned as his mouth found her neck.
"Is that right?" he kissed down her throat, her collarbone, the swell of her breast. "You want me to take care of you? I'll give you some care."
Michael took his time and kissed every inch of her skin, from her wrists to her ribs to the underside of her breasts, avoiding the piercings just to hear her whine in frustration.
"Michael."
"Patience, woman."
He licked a stripe up her sternum, his glasses fogging slightly from the heat of her skin. He paused to wipe them on his shirt, making her snort.
"Seriously?"
"I wanna see," he said like it was obvious. "You went through all this trouble… Let me appreciate it."
Michael pushed the glasses back on and lowered his mouth to her left nipple gently, so gently, his tongue circling the cool metal. She arched off the couch with a cry. Her fingers tangled in his dark hair, holding him there.
"Oh my God━"
"That's it," he murmured against her skin, switching to the other side. "That's my good girl. So pretty, so brave for gettin' these for me."
"For you?" she panted, half-laughing, half-moaning. "I got them for me."
"Mmm," he sucked lightly and she bucked beneath him. "And who you gonna let play with 'em, huh? Who gets to touch?"
"Y-you," she admitted, breathless. "Just you. Fuck, Mike━"
Michael pulled back just enough to look at her. She was flushed, her lip bitten, her eyes glassy. Her chest was heaving, the piercings catching the low light, and his glasses were slightly askew on his face. She thought he had never looked more beautiful.
"I love you," he murmured, thumb still brushing slow circles around the barbell without quite touching the peak.
Her heart melted at his words. She loved how he could be all shy and flustered in one breath, more confident and playful in another, but always ━ always ━ loving and ready to please.
"… I'd love you more if you did something else," she decided to tease instead because, well, that was who she was.
She wrapped her legs tighter around his waist, pulling him flush against her. Through the thin fabric of his pajama pants and her jeans, she could feel him ━ hard and ready. She rolled her hips again just to hear him hiss.
"Looks like I'm not the only one being sensitive," she remarked playfully.
"And I'm the only one having to be careful," Michael soothed a thumb over the other nipple, watching her pupils blow wide.
"And you're being so good at that."
"So I’ve been told."
He lowered his mouth to the left piercing again, but he was not sucking this time, just breathing warm air over the cool metal. Her back arched off the couch, a broken little sound falling from her lips.
"Michael━"
"That's my name," he murmured against her skin. "Don't wear it out."
She laughed despite herself ━ a breathless, helpless thing ━ and tugged at his hair gently. She knew his scalp would still hurt him.
"You're enjoying this way too much."
"Course I am," he licked a slow stripe over the barbell, just the flat of his tongue, gentle as anything. "Got my beautiful girl spread out underneath me, showin' me the pretty new piercings she got just to make me crazy. You think I ain't gonna enjoy every second?"
"I didn't get them just to make you crazy━"
"Liar."
She opened her mouth to argue, but he chose that exact moment to close his lips around her nipple to suck. The pull of his mouth against the metal sent a jolt straight through her, making her hips buck against him. Her hands fisted in his hair, a moan tearing out of her that she could not have stopped if she had tried.
When he pulled back, his lips were shiny, his glasses were fogged again, and his eyes were dark as sin.
"Feel better?" he asked innocently.
Her chest heaved as she stared at him ━ this ridiculous, gorgeous impossible man hovering over her with his hair falling into his face, his glasses sliding down his nose, that little smile playing at his lips.
She grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him down into a kiss instead of answering. He melted into her, one hand cradling her jaw, the other still on her chest.
When they broke apart, she was smiling.
"That's not an answer," he murmured.
"I believe it’s pretty self-explanatory, baby."
Michael kissed her again, softer this time. Then, he pulled back, pushed his glasses up, and looked at her like she was the only woman in the world. God, she loved when he was wearing those glasses.
"Lie back."
She did.
He kissed down her body again ━ kissed her sternum, her stomach, her hip bones, mouthing at the waistband of her jeans until she lifted her hips so he could pull them off. His lips hovered above her underwear, a wet patch already darkening them.
"God," he breathed. "Look at you."
"Michael━"
"Shh," he pressed a kiss to her inner thigh. "Let me. Please."
She nodded, not trusting her voice. He worked his way up slowly with kisses on her thighs, her hips, the soft skin of her lower belly. His fingers traced lazy patterns on her skin, avoiding where she wanted him the most, just to hear her whine.
"P-please," she finally gasped.
"Please what?"
"Please touch me!"
"So polite when you want somethin'," Michael slid his hand between her legs, and when his fingers found her slick and desperate, he groaned like he was the one being touched. "All that just for me?" he asked, almost disbelieving.
"W-who else would it be for?" she managed.
He did not answer and just lowered his mouth to her while his fingers worked. The combination of his tongue on her bundle of nerves and the way he kept glancing up at her through his lashes ━ checking, making sure she was okay, making sure she was feeling good ━ sent her hurtling toward the edge too fast.
"Mike, I'm gonna━"
"Let go," he murmured against her. "I got you. I always got you, baby. Let go for me."
She did and shattered with his name on her lips, her back arching off the couch, her hands fisted so tight in his hair she was probably hurting him ━ but he did not stop. Michael worked her through it, his teeth slightly nibbling her there, until she was limp and trembling and completely, utterly satisfied.
He crawled back up her body, kissed her forehead, her nose, her lips.
"You okay?" he asked softly.
She blinked up at him and managed a wobbly smile.
"I think I almost died," she whispered.
Michael smiled and settled against her side, pulling her close. His glasses were crooked, his hair was a mess, his lips were kiss-swollen and his eyes were soft.
"Good," he murmured, pressing a kiss to her temple. "That's all I wanted."
She curled into him, her head on his chest, her fingers tracing lazy patterns on his stomach. The piercings pressed against his side, cool and solid, and she felt him shiver slightly.
"Cold?"
"No," he breathed. "Just… you, that’s all."
She smiled against his skin. They lay there for a long time ━ him holding her, her tucked against him, the quiet hum of Neverland settling around them.
"You know I'm gonna be thinkin' about them piercings every time I see you now, right?"
She laughed.
"Good."
"Good?" he tilted his head to look at her. "Woman, I'm supposed to be writin' music. How'm I supposed to focus when all I can think about is━"
"Maybe you need a new inspiration," she teased, her hand reaching for still hard length of him.
"Y-yeah," he moaned, pulling her on top of her. "Yeah, maybe I do."
