Summary: you and Michael had been friends for as long as you could remember. Best friends. Wasnโt that what best friends did โ help each other soothe the hunger and desire? You couldnโt be sure, but you and Michael simply couldn't stop coming to each other's rescue.
Content/Warnings: childhood best friends, practically porn w no plot, 18+ themes (MDNI!), smut, kisses, public oral sex (f!receiving), mentions of cheating, getting caught.
W/c: 1,9k+
Rome, 1977
โโMike, someone will see us...!โ
You tried to brush his hands away from the hem of your short linen skirt, which lifted playfully with every gust of wind, exposing patches of your caramel skin. Michael smiled softly, that signature shy grin of his, sliding his hands right back onto your thighs.
โNobody will see us, we'll be back soon.โ
He whispers soothingly, pressing your back against the ruins of an ancient temple dedicated to some Olympian god. The sun-warmed stone heats your spine, which, combined with Michaelโs hot breath on your neck, makes you utterly melt in his arms. The nervousness of your absence soon being noticed sends jolts through your body, covering your skin in goosebumps.
โโI'm sure Marlon will notice right awayโฆ imagine the looks heโll give us,โ you whisper over Michaelโs quiet giggling. He just shakes his head as his hands slide up under your blouse. Pleased by the absence of a bra against your chest, he gently rubs your nipples, making you throw your head back in pleasure. Michael takes advantage of this, burying his lips into the crook of your neck.
โโOh God, Mikeโฆโ you groan softly, wrapping your arms around his neck. Something hard presses firmly into your thigh, and you unconsciously rub against his cock. He lets out a low whimper, licking up your sweat-dampened neck in a broad, sweeping motion. The salty taste on his tongue drives him crazy, making him shudder and press his groin hard against your hip.
Getting ready for this excursion this morning, you had obvious doubts that even a single outing with your family and the Jacksons would pass withoutโฆ this. Michael had been overtly hungry these past few days, and you were stepping closer and closer to getting caught red-handed.
Being so close to the Jackson family, you and Michael had been inseparable since childhood โ movie nights, sneaking out of the house to wander the city after dark, gossiping about the boys you used to like, and deep, whispered conversations after your very first taste of alcohol. Together, of course.
The older you grew, the more thrilling it became to discover each other from a whole new perspective. The level of comfort between you had always been boundless, allowing you to explore each other's bodies with pure curiosity. Your very first kiss was shared between the two of you, a shy, tentative brushing of lips. But..
โโMike, donโt use your tongue, itโs gross!โ
โโThatโs how adults do it! Come on, you try using your tongue.โ
โโEw, no way!โ
Such attempts often ended in a pillow fight, which โ naturally, you always lost.
Over time, hands began to accompany the kisses, wandering across each otherโs bodies and forcing you to shift uncomfortably on the bed from a strange, hot ache between your legs. You watched Michaelโs heavy breathing and knew he was feeling the exact same thing.
Once, at one moment you found the boldness to cup his length through his pajama pants. Michael's response was unexpected. He jolted with a sharp cry, and you felt a sudden, warm, sticky moisture spread right beneath your fingertips.
โMike?.. Whatโs happening?..โ
โI donโt know, but it feels so good..โ
When his body finally stopped trembling under your watchful gaze, Michael looked up at you shyly, awkwardly offering a suggestion.
โDo you want meโฆ to help you outโฆ down there?โ
He glanced down suggestively as your cheeks burned crimson with embarrassment.
โOf course he helped. And it wouldn't be the last time you helped each other out. When Michael went on tour with his brothers, he would call you late at night once everyone else had fallen asleep. You would talk for hours until he started whining about how desperately he missed you. Michael would beg you to tell him exactly how you touched yourself while thinking of him, asking if it made you feel good. Of course, you could never truly please yourself the way he could.
From that moment on, every single family vacation culminated in long, drawn-out kisses in your villa bedroom, before using your hands to bring each other to the edge, both stifling groans to avoid getting caught. It became a routine, entirely normal to you. After all, didn't all friends help each other out like this? He would stick to your side during every walk, the two of you always drifting away from the group, giggling quietly together. Losing sight of you became second nature to both the Jacksons and your parents.
Eventually, this worked perfectly to your advantage.
Inside a museum? Youโd wander into a quiet empty hall to steal a few quick kisses from each otherโs lips. During a family dinner? Youโd sit right next to each other, Michaelโs hand softly caressing your thighs, his fingers creeping dangerously high towards your wet panties. It became familiar and expected, almost a routine that passed without any surprises.
And then, out of nowhere, something strange happened. Michael got a girlfriend. You watched his happy face with a sense of confusion as he raved about how wonderful she was. But all your worries vanished away the moment his fingers were inside you right after his story. You had never crossed the line past heavy petting, because Michael didn't intend to โcheat.โ And this was just for fun, right? You were just playing around and gaining experience. Nothing more. It was completely normal โ you were practically family, and he didn't see you as a โgirlโ at all.
Yet here Michael is again, sinking to his knees in front of you, bunching up your skirt as you nervously scan the surroundings. Caressing your legs, he nuzzles his cheek against your knees, as if a jealous cat marking his territory with his scent. He lifts up his large, innocent brown eyes, catching your gaze. With a wicked smile, he ducks beneath the light fabric, washing over your damp panties with his hot breath. Resting your spine against the warm stone, you let your eyes shut. A helpless smile blooms on your lips. You absolutely adore this bastard.
Michael presses his lips to the bud of your clit through the sheer fabric of your panties, forcing a sweet arch into your spine. Letting out a low hum, his long fingers firmly cup your buttocks. His tongue glides between your folds, tasting the moisture brought on by the bare thought of having him down there between your legs once again.
Gripping the hem of your skirt in tight fists, you let out a ragged breath. You feel Michaelโs cautious touch as he slides the fabric of your panties to the side, breathing in your body's musky fragrance with sheer delight. He uses a finger to spread your thick slick across your pussy and clit, leaving your whole body shivering with heavy anticipation.
โMike, babyโฆโ
โMhm?โ
You barely hear his quiet question, but you know exactly what he wants to hear. You swallow hard, bracing your hands against the wall behind you.
โTouch me, please, stopโฆ teasing,โ you breathe out, unconsciously moving your hips. Accidentally, you brush your clit against Michaelโs nose, shuddering from the sudden rush of sensation. He smiles to himself, intentionally nuzzling his nose against your wet cunt, drawing aching moans from you.
โMike!โ
You whimper, biting your lips from the sheer impatience and hot desire pooling between your legs, already on the verge of dripping down your inner thigh. Michael presses his lips to the bead of your clit, sucking gently as your satisfied moans fill the air. He strokes your sweat-dampened legs, adding a faint, tingling touch to the overwhelming sensations. Over the past year, he has memorized exactly how you like it, paying special attention to tender kisses on your most sensitive spots and teasing bites along your thighs.
โโOh, yesโฆ right thereโฆ pleaseโฆโ
You twist in his hands, driving your hips against his tongue while stifling your low moans into a tight fist. Suddenly, Michael pushes two fingers into your warmth, eliciting a sharp cry that you immediately choke back with your palm. You glance around in panic, but the waves of pleasure rushing from below completely override your fear.
Michael skillfully moves his fingers within you, stimulating your clit from inside your soft walls. Under the influence of adrenaline and the scorching heat, you know your body won't hold out much longer in this sweet torture. Michael deliberately rubs his nose against your clit, knowing how much you love to ride it. The only thing that makes him love this part of his face.
โโGodโฆ it feels so incredibleโฆ oh, I think I'm gonnaโฆโ
You thrust your hips in rhythm as Michael works you over with his tongue and fingers. You can practically feel his grin the moment your walls start throbbing around his fingers. His free hand digs into your thigh with bruising force, eating you out with utter fervor and devotion. Michael's knees are already raw and flushed against the sharp surface of ground with stones, even through his lightweight summer pants, yet he pays it no mind, completely locked onto your pleasure.
His own cock aches with desire, rubbing uncomfortably against the fabric of his boxers and begging for attention, drawing a desperate whine from Michael. Yet he maintains his patient focus on leading you to orgasm, well aware that his reward awaits. Sobbing out praises and pleads, your words dissolve into one continuous prayer dedicated to his tongue and to God, making you feel as if you are hovering at the gates of heaven. Sensing the knot coil deep in your lower belly, you whine helplessly, riding the rhythm of his tongue with slight, helpless hitches.
Hearing your moans, Michael hums in approval, sucking your clit until the very last second, right up until you clamp his head between your thighs, coming violently over his fingers. For a split second, he regrets that he can't see your beautiful face, but the feeling vanishes as he watches, completely mesmerized, as you pulse tightly around his fingers. Your whole body shivers as you grasp blindly for an anchor, desperate to keep your footing on weak, trembling legs. The faint, final moans escape your slick, swollen lips the moment Michael slides his fingers out of your warmth.
Looking down, you watch a drop of translucent, thick moisture trace a path down his hand. Michael deliberately sticks out his tongue to lick the slick from his fingers before sliding both into his mouth with relish, savoring them completely clean. The mere sight causes your thighs to press together once more, fighting back a new wave of arousal.
Rising from his knees, Michael claims your lips without warning, sharing what has quickly become his favorite taste. A moan escapes into the kiss, yet Michael literally swallows the sound down, at that same moment impatiently dry humping your bare hip.
Chuckling against his lips, you give him a gentle push. Glancing around, your eyes meet Marlonโs, who is watching you with a knowing smile. Crimson floods your cheeks, but you place a finger over your lips in a quiet โshh,โ pleading with the older Jackson for silence. He flashes a wicked grin, gives a quick wink, and deliberately turns around, steering Jermaine away. A breathless sigh of relief escapes your lips when you turn your attention back to Michael.
โโCome on then, hero,โ you say, looking at the poor guy, who practically has a silent plea scrolling across his forehead to do something about his arousal before he completely explodes. You giggle, nodding at Michaelโs obvious bulge as you pull the bandana off your head to protect your knees. โPants off. Weโve got a few minutes, honey.โ
A Michael Jackson fanfic can be from the pre-Off the Wall era or from his later period, featuring a reader with small breasts. (English is not my first language.)
Summary: Michael and y/n find themselves trapped in an endless cycle of arguments. The โBadโ tour and all its harsh realities take a brutal toll on their relationship, compounded by the presence of certain people lurking around themโฆ Another fierce surge of jealousy triggers an explosive argument in their hotel room, which they end up settling the only way they know how.
Content/Warnings: angsttt, 18+ themes (MDNI!), smut, kisses, praise kink if you squint, unprotected sex, tears, a lot of swearing, jealousy, abuse? and so on. Michael is depicted differently from his usual image.
W/c: 3k+
"No, Michael, I'm tired of this."
You stood in the middle of the massive luxury hotel suite, surrounded by high ceilings and panoramic windows. The view of the city was simply incredible โ Tokyo in all its glory. An achingly beautiful place for another fight.
Michael rolled a nearly empty bottle of expensive whiskey in his hands, seemingly trapped in his own head. He heard you, but he wasn't listening. Again.
The evening had proven to be exceptionally draining.
Everything had started off well enough. Michaelโs show โ flawless as usual. Stolen kisses backstage between his performances, and the lingering promise of a passionate night to follow.
God, the passion between you burned fiercer than ever before. It constantly ignited, sparking off Michaelโs impulsive actions and your own intense emotions. But the moment the BAD tour kicked off, the arguments began.
Women. So many women in Michaelโs life. Dancers, musicians, managers, makeup artists. Youโd have to gouge your own eyes out not to notice just how beautiful this Jackson had become. And God knows, no one on his payroll was blind.
In the beginning, you didn't let it bother you. He was a superstar, it came with his fame. Michael was wildly charismatic and painfully gorgeous โ women craving him was just a fact of life. Trust had never been an issue for you.
And then... the kiss. At first, you thought you were hallucinating. Watching from the wings of the stage, you had to blink a few times. That was absolutely not in the script you had read backstage out of boredom. Tatianaโs happy smile seemed to burn a matching silhouette into the back of your eyes. While she was running away to the opposite side of the stage, you kept your eyes glued to Michael. He didnโt even look taken aback. He glanced toward you, as if the physical weight of your stare had reached him, but he refused to make eye contact.
The argument behind the scenes was heated. Surprisingly, you stayed entirely out of it. Frank DiLeo, Michaelโs manager, was perfectly capable of handling the pressure on the "poor" girl without your help. You stood back, watching with blatant satisfaction as Tatiana withered, seeming to shrink down to nothing with every single word out of Frank's mouth.
Cry. Do it for me, cry.
To your slight disappointment, she didn't shed a tear. But you got your consolation prize: Tatiana was fired before Michael's set was even over.
Perfect.
He stepped off stage as soon as the concert wrapped up, slick with sweat, breathing heavily, and flashing a triumphant smile that dazzled everyone in the room. Of course, Michaelโs disheveled state instantly sparked breathless whispers among the makeup artists. Ohgodhessosexy.
You had to fight the urge to roll your eyes. Groupies.
Michael made his way toward you, noticing your thunderous expression even from a few steps away. Your posture was completely rigid, arms crossed over your chest, one hand tightly clutching the ring that was supposed to be on your finger. And the fire in your eyes โ god, that fire could burn Michael alive.
"Baby..."
Baby?
A resounding slap echoed through the room, instantly plunging everyone into dead silence. Michael let out a ragged breath, his hand instinctively flying up to cover his burning cheek. The next thing he saw was your fingers calmly sliding the ring back on.
How thoughtful of you.
Michael's eyes met yours, and a ripple of adrenaline and chilling fear trailed down your back. In that look, the beautiful brown shade of his irises shifted to almost black.
Oh no, he wasn't mad at you for hitting him, he was mad at how you did it. Humiliated him in front of everyone just like that.
His fingers clamped around your wrist like a vice, dragging you down the hallway with unrelenting force. You fought against his grip, screaming curses at him, until he stopped so abruptly that you slammed right into his chest. Michael snatched your other wrist, yanking you forcefully toward him as though trying to shake some sense into you. His voice came out as a low, snake-like hiss.
"Shut your mouth. You're making an absolute spectacle of yourself," he hissed. "I'm embarrassed to even call you my girlfriend right now."
"Oh, so now you remember I'm your girlfriend?" you spat back. "And you weren't making a spectacle of yourself while kissing another woman right out there on stage?!"
"What did you expect? For me to cause a scene right out there? Use your head! You're acting like a spoiled brat."
A sliver of truth echoed in his words, and the realization of it stung deep inside. Yet, it was too late to surrender. Anger had consumed you completely, and you had no intention of backing down.
"You had the chance to pull away!" you barked in Michael's face. "I saw that you wanted it too!"
Michael groaned in frustration, throwing your wrists away. He tiredly rubbed the bridge of his nose, taking a step back, and threw his hands up as if in defeat.
"Think what you will. I'm so done with this bullshit."
And he just... walked away? Yes, he turned around and walked out, leaving you screaming at his back. You felt abandoned, fundamentally misunderstood, and simply the loneliest girl on the planet. A part of you wanted to sink right there onto the hallway floor and burst into tears as the wave of emotions pulled you under. The injustice of this world tied itself into a tight knot in your throat, desperately needing a release. But another part of you stared at the receding back of the man you thought you loved, and, piece by piece, began constructing a plan.
Fine. Every action bears a consequence.
You refused to let him treat you like a doormat. From that moment on, a subtle fracture appeared in your relationship. The days were swallowed whole by work, leaving you and Michael with practically zero time alone. In those endless hotel rooms, you would fall asleep long before he even walked through the door. You felt as creeping boredom was settling in, despite you having your own work to do.
And loneliness as well.
Your palpable detachment didn't go unnoticed, nor did you even try to conceal it. The dressing room incident was burned into everyone's memory, fueling a constant buzz of whispers behind your back. So be it. If people's lives were lacking in excitement, let them dissect yours. It provided a mild amusement, if nothing else. The idle gossip reached your ears regardless. "What if they've split?", "Looks like it's really over between them." "Tatiana would be so much better for him, poor thing."
Through gritted teeth, you kept up flashing a flawless smile at Michaelโs team.
The only person you genuinely wanted to smile at was Stephen. This sweet guy was Michaelโs photographer, and he made absolutely zero effort to hide his crush on you. It seemed like he was holding out hope that you were finally single, though he never quite gathered the courage to ask. And honestly? That suited you just fine.
Over and over again, youโd catch Michaelโs irritated glare whenever you pointedly giggled at one of Steveโs jokes. When you rested a hand on Steve's chest with a tender smile. When you let him wrap his arms around you. Any second now, Michael was going to have steam coming out of his ears. It was almost funny.
"What the fuck are you doing?"
"And what exactly am I doing?"
"Youโre letting him strip you bare with his eyes. What kind of sick game are you playing?"
"I have no faintest idea what youโre talking about, Michael."
"You think I'm blind? Don't play with fire, y/n..."
"Looks like you have far too much time on your hands if youโre making up this kind of nonsense."
Michaelโs jaw clenched with sheer anger. You could see his fingers repeatedly curling into fists and releasing, fighting the urge to punch the wall, the desk, the door โ anything just to let out the raging burst of emotions.
When he gets like this, his kisses are blistering, like heโs trying to consume you alive. In moments like this, you desperately try to bite down the heat spreading sweetly through your lower belly and pooling between your thighs.
Under the sharp bite of your snarling remarks about the women who throw themselves at him, and beneath his breathless insistence of "this is completely different," he works you to orgasm with his fingers in the semi-dark dressing room, your back pinned flat against the wall by the scorching heat of his body. He walks out onto the stage with an unmistakable hard-on, because there's simply no time left to sate his own hunger with you.
By the time Michael comes off stage, you're at each other's throats again over Stephen, and the two of you ride back to the hotel in separate cars. The silence that follows stretches through the entire evening, thick and suffocating. Until a hotel employee knocks, leaving an enormous bouquet of flowers at your door.
Michael, of course, hurls it straight out the hotel room window, then rounds on you with a snarl, his silhouette looming over your body like a dark, threatening shadow.
It drags on, it seems, for an eternity. You barely recognize your boyfriend anymore. Fight after fight, sparking from the smallest, most insignificant things. Every time you started a conversation, you felt like you were sitting on a powder keg. What would be the final spark to set off the explosion of feelings this time? Getting through each argument was becoming harder and harder.
And today is no different. The same Emily, finding new excuses to orbit around Michael for the second week straight. The same Stephen, still incapable of hearing the word "no." The same you just don't understand and that same exhausted sigh.
When will this all finally be over?
Michael doesn't respond to your words. He's sitting on the floor, a bottle of whiskey chilling his hand, his gaze drifting absently across the patterns of the hotel room wallpaper.
You let out a sigh, dropping your head into your hands and letting out a quiet groan of exhaustion and helplessness. You sink onto the carpet, leaning your back against the wooden leg of the bed, and suddenly feel the cold glass touch your leg. Michael is silently offering you a drink.
Having no other options left, you take the bottle from his hands and swallow a mouthful of the burning liquid. It settles unpleasantly on your tongue, already raw from the alcohol. This is the third bottle of the night. Come to think of it, you've never seen Michael drink this much. Not once in your entire life.
You study his face โ an impossibly beautiful face, shrouded in a fog of heavy thoughts. His eyes hold no emotion whatsoever, fixed on the window with its view of the nighttime metropolis. The room is lit only by a yellow backlight, turning Michael's skin a deep, liquid gold. He silently twirls the chains from his costume in his hands, too drained to even take the suit off.
You pull your knees up to your chest, hugging them close. Your short black dress rides up โ just a little more and it would reveal far more than it should. In any other moment, Michael's lips would have already curled into that signature smile, his teeth sinking into his lower lip in familiar way, but right now he doesn't even glance at you.
The atmosphere in the room feels unbearably heavy, pressing down on your shoulders with all the unspoken words and the terrifying realization that things cannot go on this way any longer.
You bring the whiskey to your lips for another sip. Your clouded mind can no longer weave thoughts into coherent sentences, producing only a dull, roaring chaos within. Michael gently pulls the bottle from your grasp and empties whatever is left.
For some reason, the thought of his lips being right where yours had just been a second ago sends a shiver of goosebumps across your skin.
Michael places the empty bottle alongside the others, his gestures clumsy, brow furrowed heavily above the bridge of his nose, each breath weary and labored. Then, for the first time that night, his eyes find yours. And he actually sees you. The silence stretches as you hold each other's gaze for a handful of seconds.
Click.
"Maybe you're tired of me?"
"What the fuck are you talking about?"
Boom.
His quiet words land like a bucket of cold water dumped over your head. Michael's gaze remains as calm as ever, but inside you the rage is rapidly boiling up. You can tell this has been eating at him for a while, God, he thinks about it all the time. Every time he sees you near Steve, Johnny, Leslie, whoeverthehell it is. He doesn't care about a name, a skin tone, or a title if some motherfucker is touching his girl. His girl.
And you let it happen. And that drives him absolutely insane. Why the fuck do you allow it? The less time you spend together, the lower that photographer's hand creeps down your thigh. You're looking for a replacement โ that's what he sees. You don't get enough attention, you've always needed a lot of it. And apparently, if he's not giving you enough, you'll find it somewhere else. His jaw clenches with pure irritation at these thoughts.
"You're looking for something in other men that you're not getting enough of from me."
"That's not true!" you cry out, refusing to believe the words coming out of his mouth. "How can you even think that?!"
"I'm only saying what I see!" he raises his voice in answer to your shout.
"I see so much too, Michael! Every ass you follow with your gaze! So maybe I'm the one you've gotten tired of? You literally forget I exist!"
"I think about you all the time," he spits through clenched teeth, his face resembling an angry cat.
"You think of me only when you spot someone else handling the role of being a man at my side better than you. That 'damages your reputation,' doesn't it?" you echo his words, your voice dripping with mockery. "Though your little flirtations with the makeup girls don't damage it at all, naturally."
Better than you.
Better than me?
You watch Michael boil over. Here we go again. Once more, you've failed to have a calm conversation without igniting that devastating fire โ a fire that had just barely begun to die out. And now here you are, fanning the embers all over again.
"I'm trying to be friendly! And I'm not the one crawling into their arms, unlike you!"
"Bullshit!" you shout, and the force of it silences Michael mid-sentence. You stare at each other wordlessly for several seconds, breathing hard, before you add, "Tell me the truth... have you found yourself a new toy? I don't satisfy you anymore, do I?"
The last thing you expected was for Michael to grab you by the ankle instead of answering, dragging you toward him across the floor. You open your mouth to say something, but he's already looming above you, settling between your parted legs. The sharp smell of alcohol hits you from his lips as he stares deep into your eyes. A raging fire burns in his gaze just before Michael seals his lips over yours, pulling you under into the kiss.
This is nothing like your gentle, loving Michael from memory, the one with cheeks flushed crimson with shyness, the one who touched your lips for the first time so hesitantly, as if silently asking for permission. Oh, no. Over the past few weeks, Michael has transformed into a starved, wild animal that simply cannot be tamed.
He claims your mouth, barely giving you a chance to breathe between kisses, his hardness grinding insistently against your thigh. The burn of whiskey on his tongue blends with the sharp, coppery taste of blood as he sinks his teeth into your lips just enough to hurt. A small act of vengeance, and it draws a wicked smirk to the corner of Michael's lips at your displeased, breathless groan.
He drags his tongue across your lips in one slow, wide stroke, licking up the crimson droplets from your tender skin. Your hands wander feverishly across his body, mapping every inch. The heat is unbearable, it's far too much. There isn't enough air, it feels as though one more breath and you'll suffocate in his pheromones.
"Mike.."
With a quiet, broken whimper, he buries his nose into the crook of your neck, his lips wandering across your skin. His breath comes in uneven bursts, his whisper grazing your flesh like a fever.
"Don't speak... just don't speak. For once."
Kisses give way to bites, over and over, until vivid red petals unfurl across your neck. Michael's hand slips beneath the hem of your dress and halts there frozen for a suspended heartbeat. Then he practically growls into your ear, his grip tightening on the sensitive inside of your thigh.
"Why the fuck aren't you wearing any panties?"
You whimper at just how scorching his voice is and at how desperately you've missed the feeling of his direct touch. Your hands slip beneath his T-shirt, damp with sweat, pressing against his bare skin.
It doesn't matter, Mike. Absolutely.
"God..."
A whisper leaves his lips, a surrender to the terrifying realization that has just seized his mind. Michael presses himself purposefully against your thigh, his heavy pressure unmistakable, his fingers tracing slow, agonizing patterns up your skin until they find your clit. He spreads your slick wetness, anchoring you to the long-awaited warmth of his body as you let out a broken moan. You arch your back in exquisite pleasure the moment his fingers push inside you. Your lips, swollen and bitten raw, part for another moan and Michaelโs cock throbs responsively inside his pants.
"Don't move."
He pins you to the floor with the full weight of his body, his hips grinding against yours in an unconscious, desperate rhythm. You feel hot tears welling in the corners of your eyes, forcing you to shield your face with your palm, hiding your vulnerability away from Michael. A tidal wave of overwhelming emotions crashes over you, every single one of them inextricably tangled with pure lust.
It was an endless cycle. Your rage fed on the primal urge to sink your teeth into his neck, your sadness found its solace only in Michaelโs kisses, and your jealousy vanished the second he was deep inside you. A desperate need to cry out and scream tore through you. You craved his body, and God, you wanted him so badly.
Michael stubbornly pulls your hand away, allowing a ghost of tenderness to pass between you as he leans down to kiss away the salty tears trembling on the edge of your eyelashes. That single gesture is enough to make your anger vanish, leaving only the bittersweet aftertaste of desperation
You impatiently reach down for his crotch, unzipping his fly with practiced, familiar movements. The sharp sound sends a jolt of an electric shock straight through you, prompting you to slip your fingers beneath the fabric and pull out his hot, hard flesh. Michael groans incoherently against your neck at the sweet teasing of his tip. Only then, you suddenly realize he is shivering slightly, and a tight, heavy ache blooms in your chest.
Oh, God.
"Come on, do it. Show me i'm still yours."
You wrap your arms tightly around his neck, the heavy press of his body leaves you no room to take a deep breath, but you donโt care. In this fleeting moment, he is the only air you breathe, and that is more than enough.
Burying his face in the crook of your neck, Michael rests his head against your shoulder, his damp lips sending a tickling shiver down your sensitive skin. A sudden rush of goosebumps washes over your whole body as you feel his cock sliding deep inside you. Your lips part in a silent, breathless moan, your eyes tightening as a wave of pure sensation crashes through you.
Driven by a fierce blend of anger and lust, Michael sets a sharp, relentless rhythm, his mouth dropping down to claim your chest with bruising kisses and sharp bites. The entire room dissolves into a haze of breathless moans. Instinctively, your thighs tighten around him, trying to lock his frame in place, but he presses heavy hands into your inner thighs, forcing them back down exactly where he wants them.
โ"Spread your legs."
The command is soft yet absolute, making you comply with a breathless whimper. You need more, a consuming hunger to have every inch of him filling you, to merge into one flesh and never exist separately again. Burying your hands in his curls, those beloved black tresses, you kiss Michaelโs slick cheekbones as a ragged breath escapes his lips. With each powerful thrust, your head scrapes uncomfortably against the floor, yet that minor ache pales completely against the heat swelling in your lower belly.
โโI wantโฆ my loveโฆโ
He mutters an unintelligible phrase, his large hands enveloping your frame. Without warning, the motion of his hips ceases, and a hollow, cold ache takes over your core โ only for Michael to lift you and set you onto his lap. Caught off guard, you cry out softly, fingers locking onto his shoulders for balance.
His cock slips and slides over your wet, sticky folds, stimulating your clit each time you roll your hips. He rests his heavy palms on your backside as you grind against his lap, creating an agonizingly perfect friction for you both.
โGodโฆ t'feels so goodโฆโ
You throw your head back, eyes rolling in sheer ecstasy the exact moment Michael buries himself inside you once more. Letting out a satisfied groan, he tugs your dress down past your breasts, his lips instantly claiming the hard nipple that has been aching for his touch. He blows a breath of cool air onto the damp skin, as you cry out sharply, your tight, clenching walls violently clamping down around him.
He lets out a sharp hiss, matching his hips to your frantic rhythm, when he suddenly snaps his hand up to grip your chin, forcing you to look straight into his eyes.
โ"See? Do you see this, y/n? Youโd better remember exactly who makes you feel this goodโฆ" He feathers his lips against yours, and your instinct is to chase the kiss, but he denies you, pulling back just out of reach. "โฆnot fucking Steve, who keeps tailing you. Heโs dying to fuck you, isnโt he? But thatโs my job. Remember that."
The dirty talk leaving Michael's gentle lips feels utterly unfamiliar and aggressive, yet it only serves to ignite your fire further. Groaning, he claims your mouth in a desperate, bruising kiss, teeth bumping and tongues tangling until the salty wet taste reaches his lips. Once again, he has brought you to tears. Again.
Breathless and overwhelmed, he tears his mouth away with a sharp sound, pressing his forehead directly against yours. Your arms drape securely around his neck, your nipples rubbing against the rough, structured fabric of his performance attire.
"I love youโฆ I love you, do you hear me?" Your sobs grow louder, fully exposing your vulnerability to him. At these words, Michael wraps his arms around your waist in a gentle, soft motion. "โฆand I donโt want to fight anymore. I donโt want it like thisโฆ"
You moan, never pausing as you ride his length, as if this is the only way to force him to listen. "I donโt want to see those sluts around you."
Michael whimpers, showering your face with desperate kisses. A feverish shiver racks your entire body as he pecks at your nose and cheeks, hips completely losing their rhythm.
โ"And I donโt want to see him pawing at you," he mutters against your skin. "You belong to me."
โ"Otherwise, you donโt look at me," you sob out. "You donโt even see me."
Your eyes lock, and you realize that right now, that couldnโt be further from the truth. He sees you, and he is utterly drowning in you. Your lips meet in another trembling kiss as you cup his cheeks with your palms. Your legs shake violently as a climax crashes over you in a scorching wave, forcing you to tighten around him and moan directly into Michaelโs mouth. He swallows your whimper, working you through it.
โ"Good girlโฆ just like thatโฆ well doneโฆ"
You let out a broken sob, riding him for those last few desperate friction-filled moments before he shudders, releasing deep inside you with your name stretching like a slow sigh on his lips. You feel the searing hot rush filling your core completely while Michaelโs hands dig ruthlessly into your thighs. Tomorrow, there will definitely be bruises left behind in the perfect shape of his hands.
For a few long seconds, you sit in absolute silence; only your heavy breathing and the rhythmic ticking of the clock indicate anyone's presence in the room. Softly, with all the love he possesses, Michael presses his lips to yours in a tender, shallow kiss. He gently brushes the sticky strands of hair away from your face, staring into the depths of your eyes he knows so well.
"Mikeโฆ I donโt want to say goodbye. I refuse to believe these are our last moments together."
Your words strike the fear lurking deep within Michaelโs chest. A single tear slips down his cheek, and you catch it gently with your lips. He strokes your back, a weary smile blooming across his face.
"Iโm not saying goodbye to you, y/n. Weโll get through this together, right?"
He takes your hand in his, lacing your fingers together. You offer a tearful smile, pressing yourself closer against his chest.
Everything will be fine. It will all be okay, as long as you are together.
โI love you too, baby. I love you too...โ
a/n: love and be loved. and NEVER get into relationships like this, it's not okay guys.
Summary : a man crying on his knees. who needs to know more? inspired by this post.
Content/Warnings : 18+ themes (MDNI!), smut, established relationships, hand job, kisses, praise kink, tears tears tears, dom!reader, teasing.
W/c: 2k+
You knew that the work of an actor was not easy. Not easy at all. Especially when you're young and have no experience, and the weight of duty presses down on you โ duty to your dear uncle and to the whole world that he belonged to. Especially when you have to prove that the name "Jackson" is still worth something.
You saw how much sweat Jaafar put into getting this role. You were right there with him every step of the way, making sure he wasn't going through this journey alone. You knew damn well how tough it was for him.
But you have never thought it would lead to this โ coming home only to find your loved one on the living room floor.
You stood frozen as the door clicked shut behind you, but it seemed Jaafar was too deep in his own world to notice. With bated breath, you watched as he knelt on the plush rug, still wearing his training pants and a white t-shirt, his hands gripping his head and... crying?
Yes, you could unmistakably hear soft sobbing and see his shoulders shaking subtly. As the start of production drew nearer, Jaafar would come home increasingly tired. He grew quiet, often exhausted to the point where you barely exchanged words, and when you did, it was devoid of much emotion.
Placing your bag softly on the table by the door, you stepped onto the rug as noiselessly as a cat, unwilling to scare him with your sudden presence. Jaafar exhaled heavily, brushing away a tear with the back of his hand. At that exact moment, you came into his line of sight, causing him to startle.
"ะh.. y/n." He spoke in a slightly raspy voice, turning his head away to hide his reddened eyes from you.
You silently approached Jaafar and knelt in front of him, mirroring his position. You gently ran your palm through his soft, overgrown curls โ the very ones that drove you so crazy, making you beg Jaafar to keep this hairstyle. Of course, he stubbornly kept insisting that he would cut his hair as soon as he was done with the movie. Bastard.
"Love?" You gently took his chin in your fingers, silently asking him to face you. He only shook his head, continuing to avert his eyes.
You pressed your lips together, cupping both his cheeks with your palms. The skin beneath your fingertips was damp and slightly sticky, likely from the salt of his tears. You felt your heart ache in your chest. Seeing Jaafar like this was unfamiliar, and at the same time, unbearable. Something was weighing heavily on him, and he wasn't letting you help.
โPlease, Jaafar, talk to me.โ
You see him bite his lower lip, and his next breath comes out ragged. Jaafar is hesitating, you can read it in his body language. He tenses up slightly, tilting his head to the left as if fighting his own thoughts. Fortunately, stubbornness loses this battle, and he raises his eyes, meeting yours.
Oh God...
You exhale softly, gazing into the depths of his brown eyes, reddened by tears and unspoken words. Your chest tightens with a boundless love that is simply impossible to exhaust. Poets have already spoken every word imaginable, yet none of them are enough to capture the wave of emotions that crashes over you every time you look into the raging universe of Jaafarโs eyes. He is completely undone in front of you, childlike in his vulnerability and honesty.
The dim light from the lamp in the corner of the living room makes his eyes gleam with gold. It feels as though you could cry right along with him, simply at the sight of it.
โPlease, tell me...โ you whisper, as Jaafar blinks away another tear. His lips tremble with emotion and the touch of your fingers burning against his cheeks. He places his palm over yours, nuzzling against it like a kitten.
โI am so exhausted.โ
He softly presses his lips to your fingers, keeping his eyes locked on yours.
โIt feels like I canโt go on anymore. Iโve drained all my strength. My efforts... they aren't enough.โ
Biting the inside of his cheek, he fights back a new wave of tears. You had seen him weary or discouraged before, but never so utterly shattered.
โYou see, right? I just don't have what they need. I'm working day and night, trying to chase their expectations, but it feels like it's never enough. I regret the time I put into this so much... I wasted everyone else's time, I feel so guilty...โ
Jaafar murmurs this quietly, his voice barely louder than a whisper. He is shaking all over from the sobs, but you donโt interrupt, letting him talk it out.
โThereโs so little time left before filming starts, I canโt back out. But what if I turn out to be a disappointment?.. I canโt... I mustn't tarnish the family name. And right now Iโm sitting here like a weakling, unable to even be a man for my girlfriend. God, just a weakling...โ
You cut him off, covering his lips with yours and drawing him into a tender kiss. You pour all your love into it, along with every emotion that has been bottled up inside you for so long. You simply can't bear to see him like this, and you know you have to do something about it.
"Jaafar..."
You whisper, peppering his entire face with kisses. His lips, forehead, cheeks, jawline. You cover every single inch of his skin with your kisses.
โYouโre the most incredible man I could ever ask for. Hear me?โ
You whisper to his lips, feeling Jaafarโs hot breath. You kiss him again, throwing both arms around his neck, desperate to hold his body close. He catches his breath with a sob between kisses, your words hitting him even harder.
โAnd I admire you. Youโre doing an incredible job, one that no one else could possibly handle. Do you understand me?โ
โJaafar closes his eyes, nuzzling his nose against your neck. He is sitting on his heels while you are kneeling, making you a bit taller than him.
โThe entire crew is amazed by you, but you're constantly tearing yourself down because you set impossible goals. Youโve already gone above and beyond.โ
โโBut...โ
โโNo buts.โ
Pressing a kiss to his forehead, your hands glide across his body, tracing every detail as though it's the first time. At this moment, the fabric of his t-shirt is horribly in the way. Had Jaafar been shirtless, your words would carry so much more weight.
โโI see clearer because I observe you the same way other people do. I see what everyone else sees. Donโt you believe me?โ
You whisper somewhere into his hair as Jaafar places his hands on your waist. You brace one hand against the couch behind his back, while the other slides down to the waistband of his sweatpants.
โAre you listening to me, baby?โ
With those words, your hand slides under the soft fabric of Jaafarโs underwear, coming tantalizingly close to touching his cock. He breathes out heavily against your neck, slurring his words.
โI'm listening...โ
You cup Jaafarโs semi-erect cock, applying a tight, pleasing pressure around the base. His hands on your waist feel scalding, burning your skin right through the thin fabric of your summer dress.
โYou believe what Iโm saying?โ
You whisper into his ear, beginning to slide your hand up and down his hot flesh. His cock goes hard within a few fleeting seconds from your touch alone, drawing a low, faint groan from him. Instinctively, his hips thrust forward, aching for more friction. He doesnโt reply, choosing instead to press his damp lips against your neck.
"Talk to me, Jaafar. I want to hear your voice."
Your hand smears the pre-cum leaking from his cock, making the strokes easier. Jaafar parts his lips, coating your collarbone and neck with the saliva pooling in his mouth. When you tease the head of his cock with your fingers, Jaafar whimpers like a starving dog, dropping his hands to your ass and squeezing it in his palms.
"Oh, mama.."
Suddenly you stop the strokes, pulling back slightly from him. Jaafar lifts his head, his brows drawn together at the bridge of his nose, eyes glistening with moisture. He looks at you with silent pleading and confusion.
"Think you deserve to touch me like that after saying such things about my boyfriend?"
Your voice is quiet, but steady. Jaafar looks at you like a guilty puppy, reluctantly pulling his hands away. He places them behind his back, leaning on them to keep his balance. He knows well enough what position he should take to please you.
You give a satisfied smile as you kiss his succulent lips, tasting the salt on them, somehow it fills you with a strange, perverse pleasure. Your hand resumes its motions, faster and more rhythmic this time, causing Jaafar to arch his back with a drawn-out moan through gritted teeth. Smiling, you press a kiss to your lover's sweat-slicked neck.
"Just like that, baby... s'good for me... you're doing great."
You feel his pulse fluttering wildly beneath his skin as your lips wander lower to his collarbones, pressing light, wet kisses interspersed with feather-light bites. This sense of absolute control over him is more intoxicating than any wine. Seeing him completely unravel in your hands stirs up that same dark, throbbing pleasure.
You run your free hand through his curls, forcing Jaafar to look at you. You gently massage his scalp, simultaneously pressing your thumb against the sensitive tip. Pressing your forehead to his, you rub your noses together.
"Show me how much you want it... show me what a good boy you are."
Jaafar shivers under you, completely vulnerable and incredibly tempting. You catch yourself wishing he could see this from your perspective, so he could appreciate the beautiful picture heโs painting for you.
"You look so pretty like this..." You can't resist dropping the praise directly onto his lips. He chases your mouth, desperate for a kiss, but you pull back. He's overly sensitive, his mind reeling. Jaafar mumbles something incoherent โ a messy sound caught between a needy whine and a soft curse.
"What was that, sweetie?"
Jaafarโs hips roll upward, unconsciously chasing your touch. His lower lip quivers, and his eyes grow glossy with tears from the overwhelming rush of pleasure. Heโs unable to break eye contact, letting out a desperate moan each time you slow your pace, intentionally driving him out of his mind.
"Please... feels s'good... kiss me, please..."
He breathes out the words, practically begging you. A deep flush of shame and embarrassment paints his cheeks as he blinks away new tears, letting them spill down his feverish face.
Unable to hold back, you lean down to lick the salty drops from his chocolate skin.
The gesture tears a wet sob from Jaafar's throat. Heat flares through his entire body at the wet touch of your tongue, feeling so perfectly right against his skin. More tears bead at the corners of his eyes, making him look so overwhelmingly perfect you could just eat him alive.
"I am so proud of you, Jaafar. You're taking this so beautifully."
You murmur the praise as you finally free his length from the restricting fabric of his boxers. Jaafarโs stomach muscles jerk involuntarily alongside a helpless whine, and you can feel his cock pulsing hot and heavy in your grip. Driven by pure impulse, you lean down and take him into your mouth. You lock eyes โ his gaze is stunned and mesmerized, while yours is completely clouded with lust. Itโs the moment his control utterly shatters.
Thick, salty spurts hit your tongue while Jaafar breaks down with a raw sob, gripping fistfuls of your hair. You deliberately hold it in your mouth, leaning in to kiss him instead. Jaafar is so incredibly obedient, opening up right away and tasting his own hot cum as you share it with him. He pulls you close by the waist, knowing full well he isn't being denied anymore. Itโs a slow, wet, heavy kiss as the pounding of your pulses slowly fades into a gentle rhythm.
"You did so good for me, Jaafar." You murmur the words against his mouth, your thumbs sweeping away the lingering tear tracks on his skin. And Jaafar smiles โ God, he actually smiles, for the first time in what feels like forever โ before letting his forehead come to rest against yours. His breaths come in heavy pants, yet a beautiful serenity washes over his features, glowing with the pure bliss of a completely sated need.
"Good... such a good boy. Mama's so proud of you." You smile in return, giving his sweet lips a quick, affectionate peck. With a soft giggle, your thumb wipes the lingering mess of his cum off Jaafar's mouth. You deliberately lick the slick off your fingers while staring right into his eyes.
"Is this the kiss you were begging for?"
a/n: was a good student getting an A+ on every exam, so now i can write smut about jaafar jackson.
making thriller!michael feel soo good during sex that he sheds a few tears:
โโ .โฆ
your hips would be moving in a relentless rhythm as you rode him, your hands braced against his chest as you felt the rapid thumping of his heart under your palms.
michael's head would be rolled back against the headboard, his jaw clenched hard. his hands would lock onto your hips, knuckles turning white from how hard his fingers dug into your skin.
"can't...oh god," he'd whimper, his voice raspy. a high, desperate whine would slip from him every time you hit that perfect sweet spot. he'd be so overwhelmed by it, his head spinning from the feeling of your body.
when you'd look at him, his eyes would be squeezed shut, his long lashes damp and clumped together. tears would gather at the corners before a couple eventually slipped free, rolling down his flushed cheeks.
and if you asked him if he was crying, he'd immediately hide his face behind his hands. you'd reach up and gently pull them away.
his eyes would be all glassy and doe-eyed when he'd looked up at you. he'd glance away in embarrassment, only for his gaze to drift back to yours. he just couldn't look away from the sight of you.
he'd reach up, one trembling hand finding the back of your neck as he pulled you down into a messy kiss, whimpering and whining into your mouth as he held you close.
his whimpers would pitch higher as he came in hot spurts while clinging to you. the sound would break off into shaky gasps while his body trembled.
you'd slump forward over him afterward, both of you trying to catch your breath. his face would drop to the crook of your shoulder, hiding there as his breathing slowly steadied. youโd run your fingers through his curls, gently playing with them while he stayed tucked against you as another tear slipped free.
Pairing: thriller!michael (1984) ร reader (referring to her like "she").
Summary: michael had been working long and hard, and his greatest desire was to come home to his girlfriend for a well-deserved weekend. What he didn't expect is to see his beloved in his brother's arms.
Content/Warnings: angst, mentioning of cheating, psychological tension, smut (mdni!), love triangle!if you squint. ONLY imagination, nothing about person in real life!
WC: around 6k.
She knew it would be a disaster.
She knew it from the moment Marlon stumbled into her apartment with a bottle in his hand.
"Sweetheart..."
The famous "Jackson's smile" blazed across his face as she looked at him with suspicion and a touch of concern. Marlon leaned his shoulder against the door frame, spreading his arms wide.
"Sweetheart, won't you save a poor man from his grief?"
She cast a nervous glance at the clock. Nothing good would come of this.
She took a deep breath, closing her eyes for a moment. A second was enough to think โ and to catch that painfully familiar scent of expensive whiskey with notes of Sicilian orange. Yes, the very same one Marlon had been giving for her birthday year after year.
She snapped her eyes open, grabbed Marlon by the collar and hauled him inside. She shut the door and glanced at the clock again.
Disaster.
She shot Marlon an irritated look from beneath her long lashes while he licked his lips smugly, letting his gaze travel over her.
Oh, she looked incredible.
Her white shirt was unbuttoned just enough to tempt the eye without crossing into vulgarity. The neckline revealed heavy gold jewelry layered around her neck. A shortโvery shortโleather skirt with a wide gilded belt completed the outfit perfectly, accentuating her curves. Neat high heels adorned her feet; gold bracelets and rings gleamed on her hands.
She saw the way he was looking at her. And he knew she knew.
"Marlon, what the hell?"
It had been a disaster from the very beginning.
The first time she met The Jackson 5 was at Berry Gordyโs house. Suzanne de Passe couldnโt attend the meeting and entrusted her with responsibilities instead. Back then, she thought she had hit the jackpotโbeing Suzanneโs cousin and Hazel Gordyโs close friend. She was young, pretty girl with messy curly hair and deep-green eyes. She couldโve fit the showbiz industry perfectly if she had enough desire. She was thinking about her opportunities time to time, but then she realisedโstaying behind the curtains feels more like it. She loved doing Suzanneโs job. Especially when it came to the Jacksonโs brothers. The introduction happened easily. Everything unfolded naturally, effortlessly. From time to time, she helped Suzanne with work whenever she was overwhelmed. In essence, she became her assistant. And so, her friendship with the Jackson 5 developed naturally.
That was when she started noticing it in herself.
She blushed beneath Marlonโs gaze. She looked for opportunities to be alone with him. She had to force herself to stop smiling whenever he spoke. It was the kind of sweet, childish crush that might have become something more.
Because Marlon noticed.
Oh, he noticed. He was so proud of himself. But silently. He never bragged about her as a trophy, as other guys did. Marlon was sweet to her, he loved to give her presents just so she smiles. It was easy and understandable, but they never got to speak about their relationship.
Because she appeared.
Kate, or Claire, or whatever her name was. She didnโt want to know.
Michael introduced Marlon to that woman, and from that moment on, the hope nestled in her chest began to wither.
Marlon got a girlfriend.
And it wasnโt me.
Disaster.
First love. First heartbreak.
Years later, she could look back on it with a smile. She was genuinely happy for Marlon now.
Besides, she had found a love of her own.
She had found it in Michael.
Oh, Michael noticed those looks for Marlon too. He knew the little secret she tried to hide, and he genuinely felt sorry for her. He saw how much she suffered and often did his best to cheer her up. She didnโt even pay attention to it at first. Michael just being Michael. Sweet, genuine boy with this charming smile of his. She was just grateful, even though if felt awkward to be aware that her obsession was this visible to him. But then she understood that he wasnโt making fun of her. Michael tried his best.
Donโt be sad, beautifulโhereโs your favorite ice cream from the stand across the street. Donโt cry, darling. Letโs go to the amusement park. Here, little star, lookโI wrote new a song.
She was sincerely grateful.
Looking back now, she couldnโt even remember when she had started seeing Michael differently. Yet the memory of those first awkward moments, when they became more than friends, always brought a tender smile to her lips.
Sometimes she wondered: What if Michael had deliberately distracted Marlon with another girl just to draw my attention to himself?
But it didnโt bother her. She was happy. Many years had passed, and Michael still kissed her as though it was the first time. She doubted she would ever receive such genuine love and devotion from anyone else. She adored watching him invent new dance moves. She could spend hours listening to him talk about a book he had just read and became fascinated by. She loved the scent of his soft chocolate skin, the careful touch of his long fingers, the sweet taste of trembling lips, the quiet sound of his voice in a breathless moan of pleasure. She adored every part of him. And if she could, she would have devoured him whole.
She missed him.
Today was ment to be special.
Between his working on an album for The Jacksons and preparing for the Victory Tour, she didnโt get to see Michael nearly as often as she wanted. But he had promised that the next three of well-earned days off would belong entirely to her.
And then he appeared.
Disaster.
โYouโre not happy to see me?โ
Good old Marlon. Never a trace of seriousnessโjust the purring drawl of his voice, half a note lower and softer than it needed to be. The Cheshire Cat would have been an accurate description.
She glanced at the clock. Again.
โMarlon, explain this. What are you doing here? Just look at yourself.โ
She gestured at his drunken, fucking ridiculously perfect smile and his messy hair. The bottle swayed dangerously in his relaxed fingers, threatening to slip and shatter into hundreds of tiny pieces.
For a brief moment, she wished it would.
โIโm celebrating the single life, my darling!โ
His bright laughter filled the room as he staggered slightly. She let out a heavy sigh and rubbed the bridge of her nose in irritation.
โYou two fought again? Marlon, tomorrow morning youโre going to her, getting down on your knees, begging for forgivenessโeven if you did nothing wrongโand thenโโ
โNo!โ
Marlon stepped closer to her, nearly pressing her against the wall. He planted the hand free from holding the bottle flat against the wall beside her head, leaning toward her ear. The warmth of his breath swept across her neck. He smelled of alcohol and some expensive sandalwood cologne.
Too cloying. Too sharp. The scent crowded her senses, leaving no room for air. She didnโt like the feeling of suffocation and the sharp, bitter, prickling sensation on her tongue.
Back away.
"It's over."
The soft whisper cracked something in her composed exterior. A shiver ran down the back of her neck. For a second she felt a flash of disgust at the way her body reacted to another man. Her mind was practically screaming at her. No, this isn't your Mike, push him away. You can talk while maintaining the distance. But curiosity was stronger.
What does "over" mean?
"We broke up. It's over."
Marlon's voice dropped even lower. She blinked several times in surprise.
What were the odds that this idiot had learned to read minds?
She placed her hand softly against his chest and pressed him back slowly. Marlon obligingly stepped away.
They had never actually spoken about it โ about that failed connection before the appearance of... whatever you call her name. Their relationship had simply grown into ordinary friendship. Quiet, without second thoughts. It was easy with Marlon. Like nothing happened.
She genuinely loved Michael, and Marlon genuinely loved his girlfriend. It was simple and required no further explanation. And yet, for some reason, whenever Marlon fought with his girlfriend, she was always the first one he called.
Michael found it infuriating.
"God, tell him you're mine and you don't have to listen to his love life problems!"
Oh noโhe loved his brother endlessly. But not enough to share his beloved with him. Michael didn't even want to entertain the thought that his beautiful girl still carried old feelings. He knew she loved him. He did for sure.
โฆDid he?
She loved Michael's softness, his tenderness โ it wrapped around her like a warm blanket draped over her shoulders. His gentle kisses pressed to the top of her head, the way his hands would linger on her hips. But that softness was followed by self-doubt, which led to arguments.
Once, a fight had reached its crescendo when Michael, in his rage, smashed half his dressing room to pieces.
That was the first time she heard him shout.
"Look at him! What the hell is he doing touching you? Do you hear me?"
"I hear you, Michael. He just hugged me. That's what friends do!"
"Hugged? Oh no, dear โ when friends hug, they don't look at each other like they want to fuck!"
"What are you even talking about?!"
That was the first time she had shouted at him.
The memory sent a fresh wave of anxiety through her. She glanced at the clock for the umpteenth time that evening.
She sighed and sat down on the sofa, nervously twisting her dark drown curls around her fingers. A few seconds later she felt the surface dip beside her. Marlon sat down next to her and immediately threw his arm around her shoulder.
She carefully pushed it away, feeling anger begin to boil somewhere deep inside, yet she held it back with all her strength.
"You know, Marlon, your timing is terrible."
Marlon let out a theatrical sigh, dramatically covering his eyes with the back of the hand.
"Suddenly unwanted everywhere all at once. You women are far too cruel."
"Stop that. You showed up at my home without any warning, when I have plans!"
"Oh, your dear Michael isn't going anywhere."
She fell silent and watched as Marlon took another sip from the nearly empty bottle. Oh, his face was irritating her beyond measure right now.
She made a sharp move to snatch the bottle of alcohol from him, but he wouldnโt let her. Off balance, she clutched his collar to keep her body from falling. Marlon's free hand instantly moved to her waist.
"No, no, no, sugar. If you want a drink โ ask nicely."
"Enough. Give me the bottle."
She tried to rise to reach the bottle, but his hand held her back. She frowned, and lightly struck Marlonโs chest in protest. She had a really bad feeling about all that situation. Heโs too close and the smell of alcohol is too strong. Nervousness was overwhelming. Her thoughts started to tangle, while Marlon's hand seemed to burn against her skin at the point of contact. She squirmed slightly, her brows drawn together.
"Let me go."
"No," a smug smile spread across his face.
"Let me go, damn it!"
Marlon placed the bottle on the coffee table, sliding his other hand to her waist to draw her closer. As close as possible. Onto his lap.
"What. Do you think. You're. Doing?"
She spoke each word with sharp precision, her teeth clenched in clear anger. She pushed her hands against Marlon's chest as he leaned in toward her face, his breath heavy with alcohol. None of her actions made any differenceโshe wasn't strong, and her slender frame did her no favors.
Marlon brushed his nose against her neck, inhaling the scent of sweet perfume laced with a subtle sharpness. Oh, it suited her perfectlyโgentle, yet with a razor tongue. He smirked at his own thoughts as he felt her body give a slight twitch beneath his touch. Warm. Alive. And, for a moment, almostโฆ yielding in his arms. For a brief instant, she softened under his hold. She allowed itโjust a little. Only a little. Let him stay in her arms, let him calm himself down. She felt guilty. It wasn't right. But at the same time? They weren't doing anything wrong.
And then, Marlon's hands dropped to her hips.
He still couldn't pull himself away from that scent. Her favorite. The perfume cost thousands of dollars โ a gift from Michael on their anniversary.
Oh God. Michael.
The sound of the door opening seemed to sober Marlon as well.
Disaster.
She snapped her head around and met the eyes of her beloved one. She wanted to cry out.
Oh, her dear Michael. He stood there in silence, staring at them with an empty gaze, his hand still resting on the doorknob. Those few seconds felt like an eternity. It felt as though her organs had dropped to her heels, and her body went ice-cold with fear in an instant.
And then Michael left in silence, closing the door behind him.
You should have yelled. That would have been better.
She rose from Marlonโs lap, his grip on her loosening instantly. She ran after Michael, losing her elegant shoes along the way. Her body was covered in goosebumps from fear of what would come next, as she watched him walk back to his car, slipping on his sunglasses as he went.
"Michael, stop! No, wait, please!"
She grabbed his arm, but he pulled it away without even looking at her. She felt a lump forming in her throat. She had no idea what to do. She hadn't felt this lost since the day she first moved to Los Angeles.
She cut Michael off, blocking his way and not letting him open the car door.
โListen to meโฆโ
Michael stopped, silently looking at her through his sunglasses. She hated that. With her, he had always been openโhe never hid his eyes. He loved eye contact, loved watching her eyes light up when she talked about something important to her. His eyes used to shine when he looked at her.
That empty gaze at the door, though, seemed capable of breaking her completely.
She let out a shaky breath, staring at her own reflection in the tinted glass.
"Say something, please..."
Her voice was trembling. Her whole body was trembling โ from the chill of the summer night and from fear. It was animalistic fear, instinctual. She felt like a deer beneath the gaze of a wolf.
And the wolf remained silent.
Silent for several long minutes. She was certain she might die at any moment. She saw his lips tighten as he searched for words. He was breathing slowly, likely counting in his head to keep himself from breaking. She knew him too well.
"Move."
Oh no. That was not what she wanted to hear.
"No. Listen to me."
Michael smiled โ but it was the most bitter thing ever.
"'It's not what you think?'"
"Mike, I can explain..."
"What is there to explain? I think you've already made yourself perfectly clear," Michael stepped closer, his figure towering over her. He bent down toward her, his voice lowering to a whisper. "How long?"
She furrowed her brows in confusion, pressing her back against the door of the red 1983 Rolls-Royce. A beautiful piece. Expensive and striking. Very Michael. What wasnโt like Michael, however, was his behavior. That was what scared her the most. She had only heard about what he could be like in a surge of anger. Emotions controlled Michael, and he could go very far. She knewโhe wouldnโt hurt her. Not physically.
"How long...what?"
Michael slammed his hand against the car beside her head, causing her to jolt and squeeze her eyes shut. His voice broke into a shout.
"Don't play dumb! How long have you been fucking my brother? Is this some kind of surprise for me, huh? 'Long time no see, Mikey โ here's a little gift.'"
She couldn't believe what she was hearing. Nausea crawled up her throat, blending with anger into a vile, sour mass. She was furious with herself, with Marlon for coming to her home at the worst possible moment, and with Michael for his impulsive nature. She wanted to cry, to scream, to simply disappear into the air.
"I am not fucking your brother! I never have! Michael, get a hold of yourself and let me explain!"
She raised her voice, echoing Michael's tone. Fear, anger, disappointment, and a fragile trace of hope that she might be heard all swirled inside her.
"What exactly are you trying to explain?! That you just happened to fall onto his lap? What, did you also 'accidentally' fall onto his cock too?"
She had never seen her beloved this angry. She would never have guessed that such fury could be directed at her. His voice was low and hissing, sending shivers down her body.
She bit her lip, holding back tears. His words cut deep inside her.
She understood him. And she knew that no matter what she said, it would sound fake. She was trapped โ helpless prey with no way out.
Itโs not your fault. Not at allโฆ itโs not your fault.
Slut.
That's what he thinks of you.
Dirty little whore.
She could no longer hold herself together. Tears streamed down her face. She wanted to reach for Michael, to seize his shoulders and shake him, to force clarity back into his mind.
But all she could manage was to clutch his collar and let out a broken sob, lowering her head. Where had her resolve gone? Hope was slowly dying in her chest.
Michael enclosed both of her wrists in a single hand, silently watching her tears fall. She braced herself for him to shove her away again, to tell her to leave. Her body shook due to cold air and sobs, every second stretching into expectation of abandonment. He was going to leave her. Any moment now.
But that didn't happen.
He only tightened his hold on her hands, watching her break into quiet sobs. His face remained cold, yet something inside him was unraveling. This was wrong. He wasnโt supposed to be losing his anger now. He should have been pulling her away from the car and driving out into the mountainsโsomewhere he often went when he needed to think. Now, however, he wanted to shatter the car on the way and walk home for hours.
And scream. Scream until his voice was gone, until by morning he wouldn't be able to speak. He wanted to lock himself away from everyone and cry until there was nothing left.
He wanted to kill Marlon for touching his girl. He had seen it more than once- Marlon's hand on her waist, Marlon winking at her during rehearsal, Marlon leaning in to whisper something that made her laugh. Laugh at his endless jokes. He had pulled Marlon away from her before, but why do they keep finding their way back to each other?
Michael trusted no one, not ever. He laughed, told amusing stories from his childhood โ but if someone were asked whether they truly knew him... No one did.
That was what hurt the most. Betrayal from the people he loved and trusted the most.
Michaelโs grip on her wrists tightened, sending a sharp tingling through her fingers, but she no longer cared. She tried to speak, to force the words out, yet only broken sobs and ragged cries escaped her lips. She gasped for air in uneven breaths, struggling to steady herself as the cold wall Michael had built seemed to close in around her.
A single tear traced a silent path down Michaelโs cheek.
โWhy are you doing this to me?โ
His whisper forced her to lift her head. Her makeup had smudged, dark streaks running beneath her eyes. She saw Michaelโs trembling, damp lips, and it felt as though her heart had been bound by an endless iron chain.
โDid I do something wrong? What did you lack with me? Am I not enough for you?โ
Michael spoke in a whisper, his grip on her wrists tightening all the while. His words came fast and fractured, as if spoken in a fevered haze.
โAll this timeโฆ were you lying to me? Were youโฆ were you still in love with him?โ
A broken whimper slipped from her lips. She no longer cared if his grip left bruises on her wrists โ none of it mattered anymore. She could feel her heart breaking into pieces inside her chest.
"Mike... I never lied to you. I love you. More than I've ever loved anyone, ever."
Michael pressed his forehead against hers. He cupped her tear-wet cheek with his free hand and shut his eyes tightly, his features contorting in pain. Michael was being torn apart between his own thoughts and the words his beloved was telling him.
โYouโre a cruel womanโฆ cruel.โ he murmured against her lips, barely above the whisper.
โListen, pleaseโฆ what you sawโฆโ
She could hardly collect her thoughts. Every word came out broken, her voice faltering as her lips trembled under the weight of overwhelming emotion.
โIt was an accidentโฆ Marlonโฆโ
Michael pressed his lips together, as though the name alone caused him pain.
โHe showed up at my place drunkโฆ his girlfriend had left him..โ
Michael let out a hiss, his voice laced with venom.
โGod, youโre not making this any better.โ
โListen!โ she shouted, forcing him into silence. โLet me finish.. I tried to get him out, I tried to take that damn bottle from himโฆ he hugged me, seeking for comfort. Nothing else happened, nothing, Mike!โ
โHe was touching you! He was grabbing your ass!โ
Michael snarled into her face, his grip tightening on her wrists until they began to bruise. He couldn't control his strength, driven by anger and confusion.
"Mike, it hurts me..."
"I'm hurt too!"
"No, Mike..."
"Do you really think that makes it any easier for me? Am I supposed to take your word for it, after what I just saw? How am I supposed to know..."
"Michael Jackson!"
She cried out, wrenching her hands free and biting her lip until it drew blood. Michael looked down at his own palm and let go of her as if he had been scalded. He stepped back, watching her rub her bruised wrists, whimpering in pain as she sank to her knees.
This sight struck Michael like a heavy blow to the head. He dropped down beside her, gathering her into his arms. He had promised himself he would never hurt herโnever, in any sense of the word. And yet he had. He had let his fury take control.
Anger and disappointment tangled with guilt. His arms tightened around her, and tears broke from his eyes. It was unbearableโtruly unbearable. He should have held his ground; he should have left immediately, never letting himself be stopped. And yet the longer Michael watched her in pain, the more he listened to her voice, the deeper doubt crept into his mind. What ifโฆ
She wept softly, clinging to his shoulders, feeling against her cheek how his shirt slowly dampened with tears. Michael began to sway gently from side to side, pressing soft kisses to her temples and stroking her hair as if trying to piece her back together.
โShhโฆ Forgive meโฆ Forgive meโฆโ
โMichael, pleaseโฆ believe meโฆโ
He remained silent, unsure of what to say. Michael genuinely wanted to believe her, to let all his suspicions dissolve into nothing but imagination. Yet fear lingered in himโthe way Marlon looked at her, the way their closeness had unsettled him when she visited the Hayvenhurst. The possibility that they might share something that belonged only to the two of them thrilled him.
He couldnโt stand itโฆ heโฆ
โI believe you.โ
He gave up.
And she broke into deeper tears, wrapping her arms tightly around Michaelโs neck. She kissed his cheeks through her sobs, while he found her lips with his, as if trying to drink in every trace of her. Slowly, Michael began to calm, and for the first time, he truly believed her. Something within him whispered: she wasnโt lying. She would never lie.
Naive. He knew it was naiveโthe voice belonged to a lovestruck fool who, despite everything, would still protect the woman he loved. Yet at that moment, he was powerless to resist it. So he believed her.
"Swear to me... there was nothing between you two. You're my girl. Right?"
With trembling hands, she slowly removed his sunglasses, wanting nothing more than to meet his reddened eyes. Holding his gaze, she whispered her promise.
"I swear."
Michael kissed her lips, tasting the salt of her tears, pulling her closer. For a moment, it felt as though he might be able to feel her heartbeat against his own chest. Her heart was racing, nervous, ready to burst out of her. The kiss was exhausted and painful, yet it was followed by a faint sense of relief.
Somewhere behind them, a door creaked open. She felt Michaelโs entire body tense beside her. He rose from his knees and gently took her hand, helping her to her feet. Her own knees were torn and bleeding from the rough asphalt, but she didnโt care. A quiet relief had settled over her, and it was all she wanted in that moment. The pain receded into the background, leaving a soft, hollow calm in her mind.
Marlon approached them in silence, his gaze landing on his younger brother with a guilty expression, almost like a disobedient puppy. He didnโt seem particularly drunk anymore; it was as if his own nervousness had sobered him up.
"Michael, uh..."
He didn't get to finish. A sharp slap cracked through the air, landing across his cheek. Marlon staggered, stunned, his hand rising instinctively to the red mark already blooming on his face. Yet this time, he met his brotherโs gaze with understandingโand a quiet, reluctant respect. He understood. And he regretted everything.
Michael grabbed him by the collar, pulling him in close, and leaned in to whisper a threat against Marlon's ear:
"Just try touching my girl one more time. One more time, Marlon. Iโll knock every single one of your teeth out. One by one."
Michael shoved him away, and Marlon raised his hands in a gesture of surrender.
"I hear you, brother. Iโm sorry. Iโm really sorry, I was justโฆ not myself."
โSober up. We have something to talk about later.โ
Michael glanced at his girlfriend and gently took her hand, squeezing it lightly with tenderness.
"Iโll call Bill. Heโll take you to Encino, Marlon."
He raised his head looking at Michael for a few seconds before giving a soft grateful smile.
โThank you, Mikey.โ
To everyoneโs surprise, Michael smiled back faintly, with the corner of his lips.
"Ouch!"
She hissed through clenched teeth as pain shot through her knee. Michael let out an annoyed sigh, rolling his eyes as he finally pulled the antiseptic-soaked sponge away from the scrape.
โBehave. You had that coming. You really rattled me, you know. Call it karma. Youโre a complete disaster.โ
She sat on the table where, not long ago, their dinner had been growing cold. After everything that had happened, after the storm of emotions that had thoroughly worn them out, neither of them felt much like eating. So instead, they had opened a bottle of wine.
Michael sat in front of her, dressed in the comfortable clothes he'd changed into after the shower. He looked unbelievably endearing like thisโso real, so effortlessly himself. A loose white T-shirt and a pair of comfortable pants. He watched her with a calm gaze, though there was a flicker of poorly concealed satisfaction and smug amusement in his eyes.
Honestly, couldn't blame him. The view in front of him was rather spectacular.
A wide wooden table, holding nothing but two glasses of dry Italian red wine and his girlfriend, perched on its edge in a pair of tiny shorts and a very, very tight T-shirt that hugged her waist and accentuated her beautiful figure to perfection.
She rested her leg across his lap, allowing him to tend to the wounds she had suffered from the fall onto the asphalt. Michael insisted on doing it himself, determined to make sure she was alright. She winced and shuddered at every touch, so Michael had to hold her leg firmly to keep in place.
"Stay still!"
She pouted, lifting a glass of wine and taking a small sip. Turning her head toward the window, she gazed out at the dimly lit street. The next sting in her knee drew an displeased groan from her lips.
Her leg slid subtly to the side, pressing softly against Michael's groin. He glanced at her face, but she seemed completely unaware, continuing to gaze out the window as she sipped her wine.
Michael bit his lip in his usual manner and gently cupped her ankle, pressing it a bit harder against his cock, which was already beginning to harden. He licked his lips, watching as if in slow motion as she froze for a few seconds before turning her head toward him.
Slightly hazy from the alcohol, her gaze met dark brown eyes where desire burned fiercely beneath the lingering emotions. She watched his reaction, and something clicked inside her mind. Keeping her eyes locked onto his, she began a slow, rhythmic massage of his groin with her foot. Michael inhaled sharply through gritted teeth, tossing his head back as his lips moved soundlessly, as if whispering a prayer to some higher power.
A smile touched her lips as Michael gripped the edge of the table, his hips jerking forward to meet the delightful friction. He swallowed a whimper that nearly slipped past his lips, his quiet sighs giving her goosebumps. Michael was incredibly sensitive, having been away from his girlfriend and starved of her touch for so long. She felt a sudden heat pooling between her own legs, completely spellbound by the sight of her lover. Unable to hold back any longer, Michael whimpered, his hips moving in a steady rhythm against her foot, which pressed against him just right.
โHe felt himself balanced right on the edge when suddenly, the pressure vanished. Michael let out a frustrated groan, forcing his blurred vision to focus on her. She was sitting with the most smug, self-satisfied smile he had ever seen. Raising a single eyebrow in a silent question, he caught her under the knees and spread her legs slightly apart.
"Oh, so you want to tease?"
He mumbled the words, stepping up from his chair and pulling her toward the edge of the table until his erection pressed right against her pelvic bone, with only a few thin layers of clothes between them. Just one small nudge of his hips, and a moan escaped her lips, her body already sensitive from their little game. She placed her hand against Michael's stomach as if to hold him back, but instead, her fingers tightly gripped his T-shirt, pulling him closer as she arched into his touch.
Friction alone would have been enough to bring her to orgasm; fueled by the earlier rush of emotions, the alcohol, and the heat of his deeply craved body, she was ready to melt in his hands while his member pressed so fucking perfectly against her clit.
"God..."
โA sly smile playing on his lips, Michael shifted his large hands to her hips, squeezing her buttocks gently. He leaned into her neck, the brush of his tongue making her arch her head back in sheer pleasure. He breathed in the familiar scent of the expensive perfume that still lingered after her shower. His gift. She had genuinely gotten ready for him, and the realization made Michael trust the honesty of her words even more.
โNuzzling his nose against her neck, he suddenly nipped at the delicate skin, making her let out a choked groan. He felt her fingers intertwine with his curls as the fabric of her shorts grew damp, completely soaked through from her arousal.
"I hate thinking that his hands were right where mine are now," he murmured against her ear, his grip tightening on her butt. "I want to erase every mark he left on you." His lips grazed her delicate skin with every spoken word, giving her goosebumps.
Michael lifts her into his arms to take her off the table and sets her bare feet down on the cool floor. He kisses her like a starving animal that has finally reached water during a drought. Their teeth clack as they collide, and their tongues dance some kind of frenzied dance.
The dim kitchen light illuminates her face just perfectly, making her even more beautiful than she already is. If that is even possible.
With a single quick motion, Michael spins her around to face away from him and presses down on the small of her back, guiding her belly-down onto the kitchen table. The wooden surface offers a nice, cool contrast to her flushed skin as Michael slips off her soaked shorts and white lace underwear. A smug smile spreads across his face.
"Matching set โ the one I gave you? Good girl."
She smiles at his words, thoroughly pleased with herself. A second later, however, a soft moan escapes her as her back arches in pure pleasure, feeling two of his long fingers push inside her.
โMichael doesn't play nice; his mind is still a storm of resentment and a possessive urge to mark what belongs to him. Leaning down, he nips sharply at her side, leaving a flush of red teeth marks on her skin. This is completely unlike himโhe is usually so tender when they make loveโand the sudden roughness makes her shudder in surprise.
"Ow, Michael!"
She gasps, but the wave of slight pain blends with the pleasure she receives from the skilled fingers inside her. Michael curves them, hitting her sensitive spot, making her bite her lips until they almost bleed. Wet, squelching sounds fill the kitchen along with the heavy breathing of the two lovers.
โFeeling her soft walls clench around him, Michael pulls out his fingers, completely soaked in her juices, and licks them, tasting the familiar, slightly sour flavor on his tongue. Her unique flavor. His absolute favorite.
She lets out a quiet moan, pressing and rubbing her backside against Michael's groin. He chuckles softly at the sensation and gives one plush cheek a playful smack.
โ"Hold on, mama."
He lowers his zipper, making it rattle slowly and loudly, deliberately testing his girl's patience.
โ"Mmh... please, Mike..." Her face twisted with impatience and overwhelming desire.
โShe whimpers, desperate for him to have mercy and finally give her exactly what she's asking for.
"What do you want, sweetheart? Use your words."
A wicked smile playing on his lips, Michael strokes his fully hardened length, slick with pre-cum. Leaning one hand on the table right beside her flushed body, he leaves only inches between them, deliberately taking his time.
"God, I want your cock!"
"It's very rude to use the Lord's name in that context, you know, honey."
She whipped her head around, shooting Michael an irritated look.
"Shut up and fuck me!"
Finally, he obeys.
The slapping of two half-naked, hot bodies echoes throughout the entire apartment, mingling with the girl's groans. Michael genuinely enjoys the sight of her back arched in pleasure as he plunges into her hot depths. Leaning down over her, he presses soft kisses along the line from her neck down to her shoulder blades, tracing every single vertebra with his lips. She stretches out in his hands like compliant clay, intoxicating him more than any alcohol.
Michael teases her nipples, rolling them between his wet fingers and whispering something sickly sweet, bordering on vulgar, into her ear. She begs for a kiss and, of course, gets it. Lips red and swollen from biting, yet they still can't get enough.
โSweat drips down her thighs, and her cheek aches from sliding against the hard surface of the table, but she couldn't care less, because the sensations are so magnificentโbetter than they have been in a long time.
"Mike... Say it... Please, say it...!"
Leaning close to her ear, Michael lets his rhythm break, his pacing turning wild and chaotic.
โ"I love you, baby," he murmurs with a smile, watching exactly how his words undo her. He keeps whispering praises about her beauty and how perfectly she accommodates him. His hips crash against her backside as his fingers slip down to find her clit, massaging it in slow, circular strokes.
She lets out a strained moan of pure pleasure as a tight knot coils in her lower belly. Tears prick her eyes at the sound of Michaelโs low groans against her neck.
โ"Mike, I'm close..."
โ"Come... come for me, mama."
โHe murmurs into her ear, pouring out promises of eternal love, telling her how desperately desired she is and how much heโve missed her. It completely breaks her restraint. She cums loudly, a heavy groan tearing from her throat with Michaelโs name on her lips. Her body is completely overstimulated as Michael drives in with his final, heavy thrusts, then pulls out just in time to finish across her back.
Exhausted, they both slide softly onto the floor, finding each other's arms. Michael pulls her onto his lap, keeping her skin from touching the cold floor. He gently strokes her hair and presses a tender kiss to her cheek. The sudden contrast makes her let out a genuine, clear laugh, as she buries her nose in Michael's neck. He really missed this.
โ"I love you, Mike... but you are just disgustingly sticky."
