a fan of many things

pairing 𝜗𝜚 off the wall!michael jackson x fem!black!reader

synopsis 𝜗𝜚 when your boyfriend buys you your dream purse, you can’t think of any other way of showing your gratitude.

warnings 𝜗𝜚 dry humping, hints of sugar daddy!michael, shy!michael but not shy!michael at the same time

authors note 𝜗𝜚 first time writing rpf & anything inherently sexual so let’s be nice ! #bringbackdryhumping

word count 𝜗𝜚 1.8k

1980, encino, california

“𝓽he chanel jersey classic bag is to die for.”

michael momentarily stops looking through his vinyl collection on one of his shelves. it wasn’t long enough for you to find it weird, but it was long enough to be noticeable.

pairing: thriller era m.jackson x fem reader.

synopsis: you and michael are trying to have time alone his room, but also have to stay aware of his brothers who are in the house.

warnings: oral (f!receiving,) slight praising, kinda getting caught, smut.

part two.

the jackson house was quiet, save for the soft hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen and the occasional creaking of floorboards as michael's brothers moved around downstairs.

you and michael were upstairs in michael's dimly lit bedroom, the door locked and the curtains drawn tight. the air was thick with anticipation and desire.

you and michael were sprawled across his king-sized bed, the plush comforter bunched up at the foot of the mattress. his long arms were wrapped tightly around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest as he peppered soft kisses along your neck and shoulder. his slender fingers traced lazy patterns on your hip, sending shivers down your spine.

as you arch your back, pressing yourself more firmly against him, michael's breath catches in his throat. he feels your curves holding perfectly to his body and it drives him crazy. his hands slide up your ribs, his thumbs brushing the underside of your breasts as he whispers against your skin softly, "baby..."

your fingers tangle in his curly hair, gently tugging as you turn your head to capture his lips in a deep kiss. he kisses you back hungrily, his tongue sliding against yours as one hand moves up to cup your breast over your bra.

he breaks the kiss, looking into your needy eyes, "we should...we should stop," michel whispers, even as his thumb circles your nipple through the thin fabric of your lacy bra. "what if they...what if they come upstairs?" his voice is shaky with barely suppressed desire.

you arch your back even more, pushing your chest out and pressing yourself against his erection. "then we'll be quiet," you murmur back, your voice low and teasing. michael groans softly, his forehead falling against your shoulder as a shy smile takes over his face even though his hand is already crawling around your back to unhook your bra.

your white lacy bra slips off your arms, and michael's hands immediately cover your bare chest, squeezing gently before his thumbs start teasing your nipples. you bite your lip to hold back a whimper as he kisses along your collarbone. his hips buck against you instinctively, his hard length pressing between your thighs through his pants.

"god..." michael whispers, his body tensing as you spread your leg slightly, allowing his thighs to rub between yours. he swallows hard, his mind racing. "baby...wait..." he warns again softly, even as he unconsciously grinds his body against yours slowly. "listen..."

you hear it too—footsteps on the stairs, tito's voice calling up, "mike, you in there?" michael freezes, his whole body going rigid against yours, his chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath silently. his hand is still cupping your breast, his head buried in your neck to stifle the groan that threatens to escape.

"yeah, yeah i'm here," michael calls back softly, his voice slightly strained. he closes his eyes tight, his heart pounding in his chest as he waits for his brother to leave. his other hand moves to still your wandering fingers, which were unconsciously unbuckling his belt.

"are you coming down?" tito asks from the other side of the door that is locked. michael swallows hard, his mind racing as he feels your hands run over his body. "yeah, yeah i'll be down soon." he replies, his body still pressed against yours. your hands are roaming over his chest, his stomach, slowly unbuttoning his shirt.

"okay. we're gonna order dinner soon, so don't be too long." tito calls through. "we're getting pizza." michael's breath shudders out as you palm his dick through his pants. "o-okay...i'll be down in a bit," he manages, voice cracking slightly. tito's footsteps finally recede.

once tito's footsteps fade away downstairs completely, michael turns to you with desperate eyes. his lips crash against yours in a hungry kiss, his hands gripping your hips tightly. he breaks the kiss to whisper urgently, "we have to be quick...and quiet."

michael pulls away, unbuttoning your pants and sliding them down your legs along with your underwear. he helps you kick them off, his eyes darkening as he takes in your beautiful naked body. without hesitation, he spreads your legs and settles between them, his broad shoulders pushing your thighs apart.

"michael," you whisper but it comes out as a whimper, your back arching as he kisses your inner thigh, his hands gripping your hips to keep you in place. "mm, what are you doing?"

he looks up at you from between your legs with those big brown eyes, his eyes sparkling with mischief and desire. "shh," he whispers back, before pressing a soft kiss to your centre.

flattening his tongue against your pussy, he begins to eat you out like he's starving. his tongue swirls around your clit, sucking hard on the sensitive nub. one of his hands moves to cover your mouth while the other grips your thigh, keeping you silent and spread wide.

you moan into his hand, your legs shaking as he devours you. his tongue pushes deep into your pussy, fucking you slowly before returning to your clit, he circles it over and over again until your legs are trembling and your hips bucking against his face.

you gasp for air, feeling yourself getting closer. "m-michael," you whimper, trying to keep quiet. "shh, baby, be quiet," michael murmurs against your skin, his tongue pressing flat against your clit, sucking gently. "you taste so good," he whispers, "so good, baby."

"fuck," you moan, biting down on his hand to keep yourself from screaming as his tongue pushes inside you again, curling up to hit that perfect spot. your hands grip his hair, holding him in place as you grind your pussy against his mouth, chasing your orgasm.

michael's eyes roll back as you grind against his face, his fingers digging into your thigh to keep you from moving too much. he hums loudly, the vibration sending shocks through your body. his tongue fucks you faster, harder, determined to make you come silently around his mouth.

"baby," you gasp, feeling your orgasm build higher and higher. "i'm gonna—mmph!" michael covers your mouth again, his tongue pushing inside your pussy just as you come, his name muffled against his hand as you ride out your orgasm against his face.

he laps up your release greedily, his tongue slow and lazy now that he's gotten you off. he kisses your pussy softly, his hand that was covering your mouth now slides down to rub your pussy softly. "good girl," he whispers against your thigh, "so quiet and sweet for me."

he climbs up your body slowly, pressing soft kisses along the way. your legs are shaking, your body oversensitive and satisfied from the perfect head he just gave you.

as he reaches your lips he presses a soft kiss to your lips, his hand coming up to softly rub your cheek as he stares into your eyes. "you okay?" he asks, "yeah" you whisper, still trying to catch your breath.

he helps you fix your hair, running his fingers through it gently. his own hair is messy from your hands gripping onto it. "you look perfect," he says, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. "no one will ever guess what we just did." he smirks softly.

he picks up your clothes from the floor and begins putting them back on your body. once you're fully clothed, you stand from the bed, running your hands down your clothes, trying to fix them.

he takes your hand, leading you out the room quietly. as you walk downstairs, you hear the boys laughing loudly. michael squeezes your hand, "just act like i didn't just send you to another world up there, okay?" he says quietly, a grin on his face. "michael!" you say with a shocked look on your face as you push his shoulder lightly.

thinking about !m.jackson x !popstar reader meeting each other while they were recording at the same studio.

everybody knew who michael jackson was, so of course you'd heard stories about him before. some people made him sound intimidating; others swore he was the nicest person alive. you never paid much attention to any of it until you met him yourself, which happened completely by accident.

you were leaving a session when a studio door opened and there he was. notebook tucked under his arm, looking just as caught off guard as you were.

"oh, sorry," he laughed and smiled at you.

that should've been the end of it, but instead, the two of you ended up talking for almost an hour.

michael was surprisingly awkward. once he got comfortable, though, he loved to yap. one minute he'd be talking about music, the next he'd be explaining disney movies, bubbles, or some random fact he learned three weeks ago. you couldn't help but find it endearing and you were immediately attracted to him.

after that, you started running into him all the time. you'd walk past a studio and hear his laugh. he'd poke his head into your sessions just to say hi. sometimes he'd sit around while you were working and somehow turn a five minute conversation into an hour long one.

when he asked if you can help record vocals for "in the closet," saying yes was probably the easiest decision ever. working together felt easy since there was never that awkward stage where you were trying to figure each other out.

most days you'd finish recording and then stay. the music would be done, everybody else would be heading home, and the two of you would still be sitting there talking about music, touring, childhood memories. sometimes about absolutely nothing and just random stuff.

michael started getting a little too happy whenever you showed up. he'd spot you walking into the studio and suddenly whatever he was doing didn't seem as important anymore. pretty much everybody noticed except the two of you. or maybe you both noticed and just didn't want to say anything.

by the time "in the closet" was finished recording, michael wasn't looking for reasons to work with you anymore. he was looking for reasons to see you.

f!reader (non-celeb gf) / post-award show michael

(lowercase INTENDED!) & not proofread ! semi smut, implied sexual activity, etc.

preview: after 3 long hours of interacting with half of the music industry with no breaks, all michael wants to do is go back home, relax, and spend time with his lover.

A/N: wrote this short lil one-shot back in 2021 and found it in my phone notes app for a different fic 😭😭 so i tweaked it and changed a good chunk to fit better and make it fresh. hope you guys enjoy!!

“mmm” you softly moaned out as the hint of vanilla scented and hazelnut candles hit your nostrils while you feel the tip of michael’s cold fingers gracefully go up and down your spine. each fingertip graze sending tingles to spread throughout your entire body.

his strong cologne from before he went to the award show still lingered as it felt like it was surrounding you entirely. your head tilts back slightly hitting his chest, soon for your eyes to close slightly and take in the situation. “i love you…” he whispers as his lips come in contact with your earlobe slightly grazing his teeth on the shell.

you quietly hum, enjoying the feeling of him being so close, your eyes flutter open again already seeing his dark colored eyes on your face. those eyes—the eyes of the man you love. “i love you too…” you respond back as you peck his lips lovingly.

pulling back with so much calmness and tenderness, michael tugs his bottom lip in between his teeth soon licking the small marks dented slightly on the soft skin.

“you don’t understand how badly i needed this tonight.” he continues, talking so softly as if it wasn’t only you two alone in the entire house.

soon you feel his fingers hook on the loop of the back of your dress before zipping it downwards with your consent. before you knew it, the dress falls down to the cold bathroom ground as you turn around to catch michael already staring at your now bare chest.

your hand raises up before slightly hitting his shoulder playfully.

“don’t be such a pervert” he laughs while you simply just playfully roll your eyes at him.

turning back around as your back now faces him again, you slowly start to enter the warm bubble bath water before sinking in completely letting the bubbles cover your now nude body and relax your tensed muscles in an instant.

unknowingly, you let out a sigh of relief while you look back up to see michael now stripping down to his last piece of clothing. soon, he places them next to your clothes on the corner ground while now entering behind; gently wrapping his arms around your waist under the covered bubble water.

his head leans onto your shoulder as the water ripples forward by the sudden movements. his breath can be felt near the nape of your neck as he plants soft kisses onto your wet skin. “i’ll never understand how i got such an amazing girl in my life” he breaths out making you smile like a teen girl as your now bubbly hands reach towards his curls, lacing your finger in between each soft strand.

turning around to face michael, your hands cup his cheeks as you see him roll his head back in satisfaction by such a simple touch. your finger hovers upon the slight features of his face delicately, as your thumb pad passes by his bottom lip touching it— meanwhile keeping ahold of your eye contact with him entirely.

his head moves closer towards yours before softly biting his lower lip. “gosh what are you doing to me.”

he mutters, showcasing a bit of his deeper voice before his lips slightly hover over your own. heat rushes from your tummy to your chest as you feel him almost start closing the gap you had between eachother.

the smell of him was intoxicating in a way it was hypnotic beyond any reason. parting your lips, you feel him washing over like a wave of warmth. unfurling all of your senses as the taste of him nearly silenced all of your thoughts.

your whole body tingled, the feeling of his frame now leaning on your own as his arms wrapped securely around you felt nearly forbidden wise. his bubbly hands move up your now bubbly back as he pulls you in more, claiming your mouth.

now hungry and intense.

the kiss was full of lust yet love and passion as you kiss him back with the same intensity as what he was doing at the start. michael was kissing you back, open mouthed— soft-lipped kissing you as one of his large hands gently wraps around your half wet hair.

time felt as if it slowed down only feeling you both alone in your own world. the kiss slowly started to get more heated and escalated as you both back away making the tip of your noses touch, catching your breaths to the same rhythm.

as your eyes flutter open, now looking into each other’s eyes, you both let out a chuckle at the same time before you lean your head once again towards his chest.

michael looks down at you on his chest now as he smiles, relaxing every bit of his body and his muscles. this is what he wanted and needed the most.

not the flashy cameras, the loud crowd, or the heavy award figurines.

he knows that days like these always get the best of him, till it’s time for him to finally be alone and not worry about the outside world.

just focusing on you and having you by his side at the end of a hectic night was all that mattered to michael.

pairing: !m.jackson x !makeupartist reader

keeping your relationship with michael a secret was usually easy. during shows, everyone had too much to do to pay attention to who was looking at who. people were running around with headsets on, carrying set pieces, checking equipment, yelling countdowns from across the hallway, and you were just another makeup artist in the middle of the chaos.

right now, michael was sitting in front of the mirror while you fixed a spot near his cheek. he was supposed to be sitting still, but he wasn’t. every few seconds, his eyes would flick toward you in the reflection.

“if you move one more time, i’m leaving.”

his lips twitched.

“i didn’t move.”

you gave him a look.

michael immediately looked down at his lap like he was the most innocent person alive. across the room, the head stylist was searching for a missing glove while somebody else argued over michael’s jacket. nobody was paying attention to the two of you.

the second you stepped back to look over your work, michael quietly reached for your wrist. just for a second, and just enough for his thumb to brush against your hand before letting go.

a voice suddenly called his name from the hallway and said “five minutes!”

people grabbed last-minute supplies. security started moving into position. somebody handed michael a microphone.

you picked up your makeup kit and moved aside as everyone crowded around him. before leaving, michael glanced over his shoulder. he simply just looked at you, and you looked back

you found yourself standing near the side of the stage while the crowd screamed loud enough to shake the floor beneath your feet. michael ran out under the lights and the entire stadium lost its mind. it was beautiful to watch

you watched him perform for a while before feeling someone step beside you. it was one of the dancers. he looked between you and michael, who had somehow managed to glance toward the wings for the third time in ten minutes.

then he looked back at you.

“you know,” he said slowly, “for two people who are keeping a secret, you guys are terrible at it.”

I have a story (smut??) idea where Michael (any era idc) and reader are the hottest new celebrity couple in Hollywood but one day Michael makes a sex tape of the two of them and it gets leaked…

Sorry if this isn’t the best description cuz i am not good with explaining things 😭😭

Thank you :)

t/w: 18+ mdni, smut, p in v, oral (f! receiving), sex tape, hair pulling, you get ran through a mattress, choking, mature! era, controversially young gf? soft!dom michael, after the tape leaked no one ever thought he was asexual again and the “are you a virgin?” questions stopped

wc: 2.4k

content/warnings: JEALOUS MICHAEL. reader performs alongside her idol, prince. michael has a crush on you, age gap implied, setting is ofc 2004 grammys so lets pretend he attended and was in the crowd just for you, tiny fan reader energy, somewhat suggestive if you squint, somewhat mature! michael yet he's still a bit shy... flirting! WC: A/N: yes i know they didn't have real beef and i mention that however, that doesn't stop michael from getting a tiny bratty once he sees his crush perform in such a stunning dress next to someone who's given him smart atttiudes here and there... also not to sound so og wattpad lmao but i got surgery recently so writing/putting work out has been somewhat delayed forgive me <3 also, inspired by @svnnywrites !!!

Your Motorola is buzzing nonstop in your jeans pocket, and you have to grimace at the crew member as he gives you directions to the back. He lets out an embarrassed chuckle before directing you down the hall. Bags strapped to your arm, you make it to your trailer, and have to take a breath, a much-needed one. 

₊˚•.

The Grammys have nominated you for your new album and requested that you perform one of your hits for the audience. Your career has blown off since the world realized your vocals were one of a kind, and has supported you (well—some, not all) in buying your new album and helping it be heard by the greats. It was a blessing you were thoroughly grateful for. 

Well, what really was a blessing was the fact that there was one of those greats who personally asked you to join him on the stage for that night, and it was no other than Prince, your idol. When your manager called you to surprise you, you went into shock. And by shock, I mean, you were frozen, stuck in tears until the concerned voice of your manager brought you back to reality. 

You grew up with Prince posters on your walls, vinyls leaning against each other on your shelves. His music was your inspiration to even let your talent shine—and, without him even being aware of it, you were grateful for his existence. He was the reason you were where you were, literally. 

The outfit you’re wearing is a beautiful shade of bright pink, gold details coordinating perfectly with Prince’s gold decals on his purple suit. Your publicist was purely ecstatic at the thought of how the daily newspapers would have your name in big letters across the first page, awarding (hopefully) kudos to your first on-stage collaboration with such a big artist. She initially teased the names around, wanting to see how the names with yours flowed in her mouth, even going as far as printing out a mock newspaper, wanting your name to somehow outshine the professionals who’ve been there way longer than you. There was one name she pulled that had your smile fighting to break, hand leaning against your cheekbone for stability.

“Michael Jackson with your name? Now that has a ring to it, honestly. Is it too late to get a refund? I have changed my mind!” You shook your head at her poor humor, snatching the paper from her hands as your eyes raked over the title. Your name was in a slightly bigger and brighter font, Michael Jackson’s below yours. It did look entrancing, and the unhinged part of your brain genuinely does appreciate how perfect it looked, pondering on the what-ifs. 

While you weren’t as big a fan of Michael Jackson as you were of Prince, you appreciated the influence he had on your career. There was an ongoing rumor that he was a fan of your music, and while you didn’t necessarily believe it, there was a small part of you that acknowledged it just in case. You had heard that there was going to be a possibility of him in the crowd for the 46th Annual Grammy Awards, and subconsciously, your brain was pushing to outshine a bit more. You’d never voluntarily admit it, unless confronted about it, but you found him attractive, and his music was like your own personal sensory meridian. Your guilty pleasure was picturing the muse of his lyrics being you, and this delusion would have you flipping through magazines with a smile on your face, cheeks warm with admiration. Hey, don’t we all do this already? 

₊˚•.

Michael wipes the sweat from his palms onto his jeans as he’s avoiding the cameras pointed at him from across the room. Every breath he’s taken since he’s entered the auditorium has been captured by hungry photographers looking to sell rare Michael Jackson shots, and it’s taken every mature cell in his body to refrain him from sticking the bird up to them. He just wants to enjoy the performances in peace, for God’s sake.  

He originally wasn’t planning to attend the award show; when he isn’t nominated, award shows aren’t his favorite. Michael would never say it verbally (because his facial expressions would say it all), but they bored the hell out of him. The jokes ribbed would never actually be funny, and Michael’s cheeks would always end up hurting from the amount of fake smiling he’d have to put on for the night. 

“Can you try to be positive? For the cameras?” His team would state, and Michael, being the kind human he was, would oblige and make his brand look good. It was annoying, but it’d save everyone from bad publicity for the week. 

That said, when he received the invite, he declined it without hesitation. He had no real reason to attend- he would’ve rather been at home with his kids, hair disheveled in every direction. Michael was content with this until one slick comment his nanny made brought him to a sudden halt. “Will you be streaming the Grammys when the night comes?” She asked, her intentions seeming innocent as she collected toys from the floor and put them into the baskets.  

Michael shrugged his shoulders, hands toying with his daughter’s hair. “Maybe. Do you know who will be performing?”

His nanny pursed her lips, a teasing smile threatening Michael’s curious eyes. “The biggest performance to occur in a long time?” Michael nodded for her to continue. 

“Prince, with that one artist you claim you aren’t fixated on. What’s her name…” Michael finished her thought, and he instinctively gripped onto the couch’s leather, vexation filling his veins immediately. 

Michael, being the educated and respectful gentleman he was, would always be cordial with even those who slightly annoyed him. He didn’t dislike Prince; he would never deny the man’s insanely high musical talent. His personality, however? Now that was a different story. 

You were what Michael thought was a small crush. When he initially saw you on the front cover of a magazine sitting on his manager’s desk, his breath hitched. His fingertips tingled with infatuation, and then shame. He felt too old to be crushing on a young thing like you. Nonetheless, he still went home and used his status to deep-dive into you. He was obsessed with the way your body flowed in rhythm on stage, how the hues of your outfits accentuated your skin tone so radiantly. How your personality radiated through conversations with reporters and interviewers. His eyes showed no exhaustion as your music videos played continuously on his TV, the lyrics engraved in his mind. 

In such a short amount of time, he became a fan. Your voice was blessed with perfect pitch and melodies, and it shone through in your live performances. You were beautiful, your features toned with or without stage makeup. He felt like a teenager all over again; hearing your name was like Pavlov ringing bells for the dogs, it was pure and raw instinct to turn his head and let the warm flush in his cheeks. 

He had his team take that decline back with no hesitation, once again. He would be attending because, one, he wanted to finally have the opportunity to meet you. 

And two, he wanted to make sure he could get some alone time with you, just to let you get a glimpse of what it would be like to befriend two of the greatest male pop stars, who also happened to not be the friendliest duos to exist. Michael knew that he’d sit there in pure envy watching you stand beside Prince. He’d trade anything just to go back in time and reach out to you when he should’ve, because now his chance of creating an iconic performance with you first was out the window. 

God, he felt so delusional and crazy. But that’s the effect you had on him, and he hadn’t even met you. 

₊˚•.

Bright lights surround you, waving to the cameras as you stroll down the carpet. The show has begun, and you’ve just finished changing into your award outfit. The tinges parallel with Prince’s attire, and you’re feeling like an undeniable star. Your name is chanted incessantly, other stars taking not-so-subtle looks to find where all the absorption is shining. You find Prince and capture some pictures together, the photographer’s feelings are achieved as they encapsulate the familiarity between you and Prince.

“I’ll see you on stage, real deal,” Prince whispered against your cheek and gave you a transitory hug before walking away. You keep his words in mind as you let out a deep breath, following behind him and into the celebratory room. Thankfully, a break is scheduled for the next 10 minutes, so you can use that time to find your seat. 

Unbeknownst to you, Michael’s eyes quickly find you, and they never leave. He already knew where your seat was, so his eyes remained there until you sat down and gave a cordial smile to the seat-filler. Michael could declare your beauty impeccable, distinctive, and sui generis. Seeing the way your curious eyes search for comfort, the way your arms rest comfortably despite the loud amplitude filling everyone’s ears. He brings his hand to his chest, resting it over his heart. He feels his heart beating threaten to win a marathon, so he grabs his bottle, forcing the drink to finally close his mouth. 

When he looks back up, your eyes are already on his. He pauses, afraid that you found his stare uncomfortable or odd. Instead, you give him a small wave, lips curving upward with hints of exhilaration and slyness. 

You were nervous to even do that, not knowing if he’d find you weird or fanatic. But you thought, why not build up amicable trust, just in case? 

Michael, on the other hand, let his fingers acknowledge you back. His boomer sobriquet was on display as he pointed to your outfit, then gave a thumbs-up. God, Michael, stop embarrassing yourself, she might think you’re odd, he repeated in his mind. 

A giggle ripples through your chest, attention suddenly pulled by the voice centering on the stage. Michael pretends that the dismay doesn’t pinch his heart as your regard doesn’t immediately return. 

₊˚•.

Prince’s voice dominates the immersion in the room, lights cascading into an ostentatious purple. The crowd acclaims with praise, the infamous strokes of “Purple Rain” reverberating throughout the walls of the room. 

Michael still feels a small grudge against everyone for not having the gift of making the song his—it was such a tragic yet alluring ballad. He gave where credit was due, of course. The song was uniquely Prince’s, but Michael still asserts that his voice on it alone would make it a tiny bit better. 

You take a small breath, brushing the hair out of your face before taking a step on the first stair, waiting for the directions from the crew. Your voice sings in the microphone, melodic in every word. 

To Michael, your voice was outright mellifluous, and he instantly sat up, boredom no longer etched into his face. 

Powerful steps are taken up the stairs, ruffles swaying with every pace. Michael’s eyes, along with everyone else, are enthralled in the way your body just knows. You bring your hand to your hip confidently, tone laced with accusatory and emotion, an ability that not every artist can bring to the table. 

You have a couple of seconds at the front of the stage, the presence being yours. These nanoseconds become Michael’s favorite moment of the night thus far, and he brings his tongue to his top lip, concentrating on your body, your face diluted with attainment and bliss. Your beauty was far more evident in person, and Michael spent every blink savoring it to the core. He never wanted to forget your excited hops, hair bouncing with vigor. 

The moment was cut short for him because Prince strides to you, bringing his face to yours, and singing into the microphone with you. Michael’s mouth parted open in incredulousness because his own microphone was just mere inches away. 

He taps his fingers against his thigh, nodding as a distraction. He knew it was pure annoyance and a child's jealousy that panged inside him, but he was still not a fan of the way Prince’s eyes fell to your mouth. God, would he be a bad guy if he suddenly caused a disruption?

The song transitions into another, and Michael distracts his puerile behavior by concentrating on your impromptu dances, arms swaying in the air as the music reaches your soul. His palms crash together with the beat, lauding at your enthusiastic energy. It brings his lips to a smile, doting on the way that being literally underneath you is something he appreciates without shame. 

There were times when Michael felt that Prince’s eyes fell on you a little too much, but you didn’t notice it, and to Michael, that was enough to bring his lips to a smirk. 

The performance comes to an end, and Michael is the first to stand, cheering at you. He makes sure he even calls your name a few times, and he lets out a satisfying chuckle as Prince side-eyes him. You give Michael a cherishing smile before following Prince offstage. You part ways, changing back into your outfit before walking back inside the auditorium. 

You hesitantly bring your nails to your mouth before muttering a small “fuck it” and walking to Michael. His energy seems reserved from afar, and it makes your steps halt, but his turned head makes you dip your head, and continue. 

The tips of your feet are touching his, and it makes you lick your lips, a taunting smirk forming.

“You looked amazed.” 

“You looked extravagant.” 

There’s a merge of laughter between you both, and you savor the frisson down your spine. You take a bold rake across the man in front of you, savoring the exposed area that his shirt allows. 

“What was that about me looking extravagant?” 

Michael bobs his head, and his brows express his emotions before he opens his mouth. “That show was a beautiful thing. I mean, you did amazing. And your voice. It’s a gift.” 

You ignore the contentment coursing through your veins and focus on the zealot aspect of you, because Michael Jackson was praising you, and every vocable reached your heart. “Thank you, Mr. Michael-“ 

“Please, drop the Mr. You make me sound old.” 

There’s a beat before you speak. A beat where you ponder whether your next words are appropriate. “What’s so wrong about that?” 

Michael’s mouth waters, and he swallows before he chokes; he doesn’t want to embarrass himself in front of you. He swears he catches the dallying in your words, but he wants to physically hear you say it. “I guess there isn’t.” 

There’s a silent second before you part your mouth open, breath uneven due to the internal timorous void you feel build up. “I didn’t think I’d see you here for some reason.” 

“Well, I wasn’t planning to come at first.” 

“Why’s that?” The genuine curiosity in your voice makes Michael grin. 

“I told them that if you were here, then it’d be okay.” Your lips close together, the tip of your nose reddening with shock. For you? 

It’s almost like Michael hears your thought, because he nods. “Yeah, for you.” Laughter eludes from your chest, and you flutter your lashes. Michael counts the pattern, focusing his eyes on every lash and the way they curl so voluptuously. 

“So you liked the performance?” He nods at your inquiry. “What was your favorite part?” 

“Honestly, you.” 

You let out a chuckled breath and notice the candor built in the lines of his face. “We did well.” 

Michael taps his jaw, veins prominent. Your eyes falter to it promptly before bringing them back to Michael’s. “Well, of course, you did well. I mean, the way your voice reached my ears. I fell in awe. Seeing you was like heaven running through my mind.” 

Every word he gives you is a banter uniquely yours. Multiple people surrounded you both, yet your ears alone claimed the words. That was enough to let your hands tap his arm and tug at his sleeve. “And not Prince?” 

Your words receive a roll of eyes, and you cover your mouth to hinder your muffled laugh. Michael feels honored to be the muse of your laughter. There’s no debasement in him whatsoever regarding his bias, and that makes him slightly scold his sophomoric mind. 

“When the show is over, do you want to go somewhere?” Now it’s your turn to be bold. 

Michael nods and brings his hands to where your arm rests on him. It makes your insides quiver, and there’s a small twitch in the back of your neck. “And go where?” 

You shrug your shoulders. “I think I’d like to go anywhere with you.” 

₊˚•. 

The show comes to an end, and before you get a chance to stand and applaud, Michael’s by your seat. His hand is out, reaching for your touch. You give it without vacillation and rise. 

His hand is on your waist, and he’s guiding your steps as you jostle through the crowds of people. There are whispers and cameras out, capturing the infamous moment in front of them. Michael doesn’t seem to care, and if anything, it’s a pleasure to be captured alongside you. 

You’re out the door, and Michael takes you to the quietest place he can find, into the museum sector. There’s security all around, but neither of them moves at the sight of you and Michael Jackson, of course. 

A relief of breath is exhaled, and you fan your face. “I don’t really like those things.” 

“Award shows like this?” 

You shake your head, shoulders shrugging. “They’re always so overstimulating and crowded. Plus, the jokes are never funny. It sounds egotistical to say, but I love being on stage. That’s it.” 

Michael lets out a soft gasp at your words, because there were equivalent emotions from both of you in something you both did for a living. It made his hands cross behind his back, hair swaying with every chuckle. “I think the same exact way.” 

There’s a silence that falls between the two of you, and you’re almost in fear that the awkwardness will win and discard all the tension from the night. Michael’s hands fall to his sides, and his fingers slowly rise to his sparkling belt. Your eyes follow his movement, and there’s a subtle gaze in Michael’s eyes at your entrance. 

“The moment we step out of this room, paparazzi will be everywhere. It’ll take us minutes to get out of here.” You murmur, hands tracing the studs on Michael’s shirt. 

He shrugs and brings his hand to your face. There’s a soft groan at the way your cheek cups so perfectly against his palm. “So be it. Don’t care. I need them to know how much I need you.” 

You lick your lips, mouth dry, unsure of what to feel. It may be too soon, too bold. But your heart beats otherwise. “Hold my hand?” 

Michael doesn’t need to be told twice before grasping your palm, lacing his fingers with yours. He brings his hands to his lips, pressing a kiss against the rings of your fingers before opening the door. 

Cameras flash like irrational timers, and there’s a smile on Michael’s face as he grabs onto his security’s shoulder for steadiness. His head turns back, giving you a teasing grin as his hold never leaves you. 

Finally, you’re outside and quickly pulled into the backseat of the limo. You fall back into the seat, letting out a yelp as Michael pulls your thigh and pulls you into the seat next to him. Your shoulders are touching, and you adore the warmth that steams down your arm. 

Michael’s eyes are on your lips as he lets out a whispered breath. “I’ve been wanting to pull you off that stage and into my own arms for the entire night. Just have your body close to mine, with no one around to take you from me.” Each word is like a tug at your hair, because your head falls back, unsure of what to do or say. You know one thing, and that’s you loved hearing those words fall from his lips. It was possessive and audacious, your exact cup of tea. 

And so you sit up, lips inching closer to Michael’s. There’s a noise that comes from him, and you think to pull away, but he shakes his head, hand gripping your shoulder for certainty. His lips come to yours first, and the collision is melting. Every glide of his lips against yours is like a confession, warning you that he needs you. Not just physically, but his heart sings for yours. 

You pull away, forehead falling to his shoulder. He presses his lips to the side of your hair, eyes closing as your scent fills his nose. 

“It’ll be impossible to ever find that feeling somewhere else.” You mutter, laughter following after. 

Michael shakes his head, voice whining with every word as he responds. “Then don’t. Don’t find it somewhere else. Let it just be me. Please.” 

Every whinge is imploring, and it scares you. You’re not sure if he’s serious or drunk. But for tonight, you don’t dwell on that any further. Because you give him a small nod, hand clasping his.

“Take me to your home. Show me what you’re like.” 

Michael nods and directs his driver to his house. His eyes never leave yours, even as your eyes explore the city outside the window. 

He begins to grin. Proud of himself for finally getting the courage to get what he wanted. He knows he wants you and your heart. He wants to show you what your life could look like alongside his own, and it’s a ponder that sits in his heart for the rest of the car ride. 

Girl dad! Michael Jackson headcanons ╱ fluff + slight angst ╱

Era: intended for dangerous, but any era fits fine

Summary: some headcanons of Michael being a girl dad bc there’s barely any, and I took that personally

Tags: Michael the girldad™, Michael calls the baby “sugar” (bc it’s cute), tooth-rotting fluff (if I do say so myself), slight angst at the beginning & middle, mention of Michael’s childhood trauma, the baby is a cutie, not proof read

Wordcount: 483

Masterlist

Girl dad! Michael who was ecstatic and worried when he found out you were pregnant. On one hand, it had always been a dream of his to have children of his own, but on the other hand, he was worried he couldn’t do. Worried he would turn into his father.

Girl dad! Michael who held his daughter for the first time with the upmost care. Being extra careful not to jostle her when you placed her in his arms. One arm held her firmly but gently to his chest and the other hand carefully held her small hand in his.

Girl dad! Michael who doesn’t want you to push yourself while recovering from labor. He does absolutely everything for you. The dishes, done. Laundry, folded and put away. The baby, fed and down for her nap.

Girl dad! Michael who doesn’t mind when his daughter tugs or yanks at his hair. While you try to gently pry her little hands off the strands, Michael just chuckles. “It’s fine baby, she’s just curious.”

Girl dad! Michael who doesn’t move an inch when his daughter falls asleep on his chest. It doesn’t matter if he’s thirsty, hungry, or what. He will not move until she wakes up.

Girl dad! Michael who can’t stand the sight of his precious daughter crying. Whenever she falls or gets hurt, he immediately rushes over, trying to soothe tears before they can fall.

Girl dad! Michael who dropped everything he was doing when his daughter walked towards him for the first time. Turning around to see the baby girl standing, taking a small step towards him, little arms outstretched, the sight melted his heart.

Girl dad! Michael who is never “too busy” to play with his daughter. He wanted to make his baby girl’s childhood special, he didn’t want to put her through the loneliness he went through as a kid.

Girl dad! Michael who writes songs with her on his lap, bouncing her gently. He asked her what she thought of lyrics and song ideas, even though the only sounds she could muster up sounded like gibberish.

“What do you think of this part, sugar?” Michael said, pointing to the notebook, the baby didn’t even look, her little hands too focused on playing with his hair. “You’re right,” Michael replied. “Needs a bit of work.”

Girl dad! Michael who was secretly hoping that his daughter’s first word would be “daddy.” You and him even made a bet on who she would call out to first. And when she said “daddy” with full confidence, Michael was over the moon.

Girl dad! Michael who watches as his daughter stares at the Thriller and Bad vinyls. She was so confused, why was her daddy’s face on these strange pictures? “Daddy!” She exclaimed, pointing to the vinyls, looking up at Michael for confirmation. “Yes sugar, that’s Daddy.” Michael nodded, patting her head gently.

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a/n: I really enjoyed doing this one, I hope yall like it <3