Hi, can you please make a submissive Michael fit. Specifically in his thriller era, any trope will do. Also maybe add a jealousy plot. Please ive been looking for a fic like that and i couldn’t find any, and I really love your work too.
| Upset and Envious
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masterlist | subby!Michael Jackson x fem!Reader
| Word Count: 1.9k
| CW: 18+ explicit material, angst, insecure Michael, jealous Michael, unprotected piv, creampie, comfort, pet names
| Summary: On the set of the Thriller short film, you spend a little too much time with John Landis and unintentionally make Michael feel left out.
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︎DISCLAIMER: This fanfiction depicts a real person and a sexual scenario. Nothing included in this story is implied to be accurate. This is a purely creative work and is not meant to offend, or make anyone uncomfortable.
You spent all day talking to John. You laughed with him, laying your hand playfully on his arm.
Michael felt sick. His pretty girl, essentially on the arm of another man…
He hung back, by walls, half hidden behind props and people. He felt shameful, almost.
It was weird, he knew you were his girl, and that you loved him dearly, but he was for some reason absolutely certain that you’d now break up with him for this man.
You noticed Michael’s distance, having gotten used to him being stuck to your side for the last six months. It had you constantly glancing around the area during conversations, probably coming off as rude. You didn’t pay any mind to how you were being perceived.
Michael nervously played with his hands, standing in the corner of the rehearsal room, dreading the moment when you’d come up to him and tell him it was over.
He was so caught up in thought that he didn’t hear you approach.
“Sweetheart?” Your honeyed voice came.
His eyes lifted and he immediately felt a wave of sadness.
You walked closer, he closed up.
“I’m sorry…” he mumbles.
Your head cocks to the side, brows furrowing in confusion and concern.
“Sorry? Whatever for, Michael?”
There it was. His real name. It was coming.
He felt tears filling his eyes.
“It’s okay, I— I promise.” He chokes out, his hand rubbing his opposite forearm in a self-soothing motion.
Guilt radiates off him in waves and makes your own stomach twist up in knots.
“Baby— what are you talking about?” You try again, wanting desperately to know what’s upset your sweet boy this much.
Heat blooms under your fingers where they now lay on his cheeks and jaw, cupping his pretty face. The tears in his eyes are now clear to you and you don’t even know what’s wrong.
“…you.” He says simply, gesturing to you weakly. “You want to be with John. It’s okay.”
His eyes avert to the smooth wooden floor, shame clawing its way through his veins.
You frown. Your heart aches, and as if it wasn’t enough, he continues.
“and I’m sorry,” his voice catches. “I’m sorry I couldn’t give you everything you needed.”
“Oh, baby…” you pull him into a tight hug, tucking his face in your neck and kissing his head. “I don’t want to be with John.”
His back is trembling under your rubbing palm and he stays silent for a minute or so before pulling his tear-streaked face from the crook of your neck.
“…are you sure?” He asks, voice shaky and quiet with a crushing self doubt. “You just— you looked so happy with him…”
“Michael,” you laugh gently, running your thumb over his jawline. “If only you could see what I look like when I’m with you.”
You hug him again for a second before pulling away to kiss him properly.
“Why did you just assume that I’d leave you for some rando that made me laugh a little?”
He shrugs, not answering and chasing your lips. You laugh and push him back enough that he can’t reach your face.
“C’mon, baby, talk to me.”
Groaning, he drops his head onto your shoulder. With a huff, he explains that he felt a lot of things when he saw you so close with John. First it was jealousy— a deep, burning jealously. But then it was shame. Who was he to feel any claim over you? Once that thought crossed his mind, there was only sadness and guilt. It had to have been his fault that you were looking elsewhere, right?
You listened intently to his soft, rapid voice. The urgency to explain everything quickly enough that you wouldn’t misunderstand one part because you hadn’t heard the next yet.
When he was done, he hugged you again, knowing better than to go for your lips again after you stopped him.
“You’re allowed to be jealous, Michael,” you tell him, patting his back. “I am your girlfriend.”
That draws a laugh from him, his shoulders shaking against you.
“You are…” he agreed quietly, hands finding your waist.
His touch is gentle, nervous and careful in a way you’d expect to have passed by this point in the relationship. But not with Michael.
“Mm,” you hum, fingers tangling into the hair at the nape of his neck. “And what did you want to do when you first felt jealous? The first thing that came to mind.”
He thinks, tilting his head and looking at a the ceiling for a moment.
“I wanted to push John away from you,” he admits easily. “And…”
He trails off then, finding that part a little harder to admit to.
“And what?” You encourage, giving him a quick kiss.
“I… I wanted to show him that you were mine.” He says finally, bashful smile stretching across his beautiful face. “Y’know, kiss you and… and maybe grab you a little bit.”
“Grab me, huh?” You tease, absentmindedly playing with his soft curls. “I’d have to imagine that that thought got you a bit worked up…”
His cheeks warm and you swear you can see them getting redder.
“Well, I—I wasn’t…” he tries to laugh off your increasingly sexual words, but it comes off nervous. “It wasn’t like I had a, y’know…”
“Hm.” You hum, a hand wandering down the front of his torso. “Oh. But, Michael, what’s this?”
The bulge in his pants fills out the cup of your palm and he groans in embarrassment.
“M’sorry, baby,” he mumbles. “It’s just… when you kissed me…”
“Sensitive boy…” you coo patronizingly. “Do you wanna go to your dressing room?”
He nods meekly.
“Yes, mama,” he adds in a quiet, obedient voice.
The pet name is one that he only uses in bed and it makes butterflies appear suddenly in your stomach. You smile at the feeling and drag him by his hand to his private, locking room.
He sits on the couch in the room right away, hands clasped together in his lap. His back is straight and his eyes are focused on his fiddling fingers as you lock the door.
“How’s that boner feeling, love?” You ask in a sincere voice, even if the question sounds crude or teasing.
“Don’t call it that…” he mumbles, his hands moving instinctively to cover his crotch.
Erections are rather embarrassing in his mind, even around you.
“…it’s fine.” His meek voice adds.
“Can I ride you?” You ask, removing your belt and jeans.
His Adam’s Apple bobs in his throat before answering.
“Of course.”
“Okay. Pants off, pretty boy.” You instruct, sitting down next to him on the couch and rubbing his shoulder.
Obeying immediately, he undoes his belt and chucks his pants somewhere on the floor.
The thickened, hard length of his cock is visible through his briefs, and it makes you bite your lip.
“Take it out.” Your voice comes, low and commanding.
Goosebumps prickle his soft skin and he shivers, taking an extra moment before reaching into his cotton underwear and pulling his cock out.
“Prettiest boy,” you coo as you catch sight of his cock, pulling him into an open mouthed kiss.
Your thighs bracket his and you settle yourself down enough to rub your slick cunt on the length of him.
He makes a pathetic sound into your mouth, but that only fuels the butterflies.
“Put it in now,”
Your instructions keep him grounded, keep his imaginative mind from wandering too far from the sensations.
His hand comes down to grasp his warm shaft, guiding its weeping tip to your opening.
It presses at its entrance, eager and aching. You let yourself sink slowly, accepting every inch with silent gratitude.
When he’s filled you to the hilt, you lay down against his chest, his hand finding your back.
He doesn’t ask to start, just gently rocks his hips up into yours, drawing soft moans from your lips that he wants to kiss so very badly.
“Baby— ” he nearly begs after a minute. “Wanna kiss you.”
You smile at his needy voice and lift your face from his rapidly rising and falling chest.
His mouth finds yours as soon as it’s in his sights, his tongue tucking itself behind your front teeth to keep you there.
It makes you giggle, but that’s cut short by a moan, jostling of the laugh forcing his cock right up against your sweet spot.
“There, mama?” He asks, voice breathless and eager to please.
You nod, sneaking a hand between your tightly packed bodies to rub your clit.
“No—no,” he whines, sounding genuinely upset that you’d even think of depriving him of dragging you to your climax. “Let me rub it, please, baby…”
The sweetness that radiates off him makes you smile and grab his face to kiss him more deeply, allowing for his own hand to find your sensitive nub.
He plays with it while thrusting sloppily up into you, nearing his edge. You can feel him twitching inside, notice his kiss becoming less involved as he tries to block out reality to last a little longer.
“It’s okay, pretty boy,” you coo reassuringly, kissing all along his jawline. “You’re allowed to—mm—to come.”
His hand not focused on your clit squeezes your waist in thanks, his body now allowing itself to peacefully climb to climax.
He pinches your bundle of nerves and rubs it between his thumb and forefinger, causing you to cry out in pleasure into the crook of his neck. Your orgasm washes over you in waves, your gummy cunt squeezing his cock in bursts.
A spasms grasps Michael’s cock and he whimpers, holding you tight to him before you feel milky substance coating your insides and Michael sigh beside your ear.
You come down first, pressing lazy, thankful kisses to his collarbone.
“Felt great, baby,” you praise, rubbing his side.
“Mm,” he hums, eyes still shut as the last of his orgasm rushes through him. “Always wanna make you come…”
His voice is mumbly and tired and you can tell that that took a bit out of him.
“Tired?”
“Mhm…”
You lift yourself off his soft cock, putting your panties on quickly to avoid any of his come leaking onto your thighs.
He looks at you, confused that you’re getting off his cock so quickly.
“Just going to tell John that we’re leaving early,” you say with a smile.
“Wait— ” he tries, but you shush him.
“You’re tired.”
He shuts his mouth and accepts your decision to take him home early. He’s such an obedient boyfriend.
You dress yourself and disappear to break the news to John, returning with a big smile and a fast food cup of orange juice to go.
“Thank you, baby,” Michael smiles as he takes the drink from you, sipping some from the straw as you locate his clothing.
He puts his clothes on himself, but you insist on doing up his pants for him. It’s intimate and you both enjoy it a great deal.
Bill arrives quickly, and you allow Michael to fall asleep on your shoulder in the back of seat of his expensive car.
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A/N: the switching of tenses made sense when I wrote this, so I’m gonna leave it. thank you for the request, by the way! sorry if this was more angsty than you intended, but it’s just how the story unfolded as I was writing it.
this is not proof read!
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