michael was definitely the kind of person who would just admire what you have down there he wouldn’t want you to do some fancy wax treatment or anything he would want you just for you. don’t even get me started on if you had a long day and he would want a taste and you were hesitant because you wanted to be fresh for him but he ever cared he just wanted you raw, bare and vulnerable. whenever he’d be between your legs he would kiss up your thighs and no matter what size they were he’d always give them a light squeeze and admire them. before he’d take your panties off he’d teasingly kiss and run his nose down your center making you squirm and ride the bump of his nose. he’ll take them off once you protest to stop teasing and once he sees your pretty flower just dripping all for him he’ll moan at the sight “so pretty and ripe” and he’ll use his thumb to run through your folds and clit and get to work leaving you a moaning mess as he eats you like a ripe papaya on a hot summer day. talking you through your orgasm, and once you let go for him he whispers a “thank you” and licks every inch left of your essence even if it got on the sheets he’s sucking it off as he just believes you’re the most delicious thing he’s ever tasted he kissing up your body and eventually your lips and as you taste yourself on him and pulls away say “thanks for dinner baby i’m stuffed”.
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🐆💋 — thriller!michael and you enjoy doing sleepovers, really you enjoy him spending time in your room as you bombard him with skin care routine because you find it entertaining. michael indulges in your fun, letting you cover his face with a homemade clay formula your mom taught you. his many attempts to kiss you only end up in a closed mouth, laughing fit with you. you usually had your radio on low, playing whatever tape was left in from before. it was relaxing to spend time together.
it’s no secret that the two of you enjoy making late-night snacks and eating them in your room as you gossip to him. you’ve found comfort in these peaceful moments with him, no media bothering your sweet man and michael being fully relaxed and safe in your presence.
whenever michael comes over to your place for a sleepover he gifts you with your favorite bouquet, every time, even when your other flowers haven’t gone old yet, his excuse: “i’ll add more and we can turn it into a garden.” with the biggest smile on his face, which earns him a big kiss on his cheek and you calling him a dork after.
you love all the letters michael gives you, his heart and body jittery for a kiss and a compliment and you give him just that. you’re obsessed with him and he’s even more obsessed with you. these little cute sleepovers you have with him are the few reminders of that, plus the date nights where you get dolled up and he gets to show you off to the world.
just imagine gripping his shirt, maybe undoing a couple buttons just to see him bite his lip and turn his head away, embarrassed. i'm not sure which i like more, girlboss reader who rides it like a rodeo champ, rocking the bed, or failgirl reader who does slow, hesitant drags along his belt that causes him to gasp and whine for more. whatever, regardless, i think belt riding is so hot.
esp like... okay, laying against his chest and just grinding from there after a long day of work. lazy, slow grinding. hearing him try his best to talk about his day as you work yourself against him. or maybe you're trying to talk and he's listening with a grin, cheeks flushed but he's all too content to hear you stutter your way through "my day was good". belt riding can be domestic and cute guys you have to believe me you have to understand!!!!
⌗ synopsis: being michael jackson’s bestfriend can be difficult when he expects you to drop everything and answer his calls !
⌗ contents: fem!reader, fluff, small kiss, childhood bestfriends, nicknames.
SATURDAY, 9:27 pm.
you were practically buzzing with excitement, electric feelings that only a saturday night in 1982 could replicate. music was buzzing faintly from your busted up radio player, hair finally doing what you had been begging for it to do all night, and your outfit laid out on the bed reminding you of all the wild memories you’d make tonight.
tonight was supposed to be a funky, crazy night.
one last look in the mirror, okay…actually four last looks in the mirror before you spun on your heels and towards your closet to grab a jean jacket to combat the nipping cold.
right as you reached for the jacket, the phone rang annoyingly down the hall.
you groaned dramatically at the ceiling, “of course.” a quiet mutter.
you had ignored the first call. if it was michael which you were almost positive it was. he would only talk to you about something completely unnecessary, make you forget the time and miss the nightclub completely.
but it continued to ring, two calls in a row couldn’t be anything good. he usually always left a silly voicemail for you to hear after the first.
with a few taps of your feet against the wooden floors and a sigh you padded down the hallway to grab the receiver, twirling the cord around your finger.
“…this you, mikey? or am i talking to bubbles?”
for a moment all you heard was soft breathing—too quiet, far to out of the ordinary for little micheal jackson. not his usual excited mumble jumble of words he shot out within seconds.
“oh y/n! finally! oh man, i thought you fell asleep with your face in the pillow again.”
there he was, the teasing, the loud bubbly voice, the same exact micheal you grew up with.
you rolled your eyes although he couldn’t see it. “cmon michael, why’re you callin’ this late? im about to head out for the night.”
“yeah yeah whatever..” he interjected. “but just hear me out on this mama, its super important.”
“im listening michael.”
he inhaled dramatically, practically hearing the wide smile he had on his face. “no one and really i mean no one wants to watch a movie with me tonight. not any of my brothers, even bubbles keeps falling asleep during the funny parts. it’s insulting really.”
you lowered the phone, biting back a laugh. “really micheal?”
“im serious!” the desperation was evident in his tone, he couldn’t stay occupied by a chimpanzee any longer.
you shook your head, smiling. he truly was still the boy you met all those adolescent years ago, still boyish and silly.
but still—god he was doing it. he was pulling you in without even realizing it. you had plans, plans you waited all week for.
“mikey, i can’t tonight,” you winced internally, saying no to him still felt like kicking a puppy. “the girls are already on their way.”
“but mama..” he whined, whined. like he was eight all over again begging you to color with him. “it won’t be fun without you, it never is.”
“micheal..” you sighed, stretching the phone cord towards the front door, peeking out the window to check if your friends headlights are shining through the dark streets.
“i even got your favorite icecream. also got sprinkles and cherries..”
you opened your mouth to speak but closed it, frustrated between choosing.
“and,” he added, sensing your walls crumbling beneath his fingertips. “i found that real old movie we used to love when we were kids. the one with the terrible acting and even worse special effects, i even set up pillows on the floor, it’s all ready girl. just missin the most important piece.”
you pressed the phone to your forehead and groaned dramatically.
he knew, he always did.
“mikey you’re killing me,” you muttered. “i wanted to dance tonight.”
“you can dance here!” he chirped excitedly. “ill even pretend i don’t notice when you mess up the footwork completely.”
that damaged the ego just a little, “i do not mess up my footwork, rascal.”
“no judgement over here mama, you know that.” hearing the way he was trying to quietly set up the ice cream bowls and sprinkles behind the phone, making your heart tug uncontrollably.
“michael i really can’t,” you mumbled, “my girlfriends are going to kill you once they find out, this is the fourth time you’ve done this.”
“please?” he said, softer. not whiny, not playful. just heart achingly honest. “i really want you here tonight.”
the silence pools between the two of you, both staying silent for different reasons. micheal was quiet because he was afraid if he said anything else you’d change your mind. and you were quiet because micheal was making it real hard to say no.
you sighed, running an irritated hand over your face. “fine micheal, fine. you never play fair.”
he laughed like he had finally won a prize at the fair, like nothing else mattered. which in his case, it really didn’t. he would never get over how easy it was to pull at your heart strings—showing all 32 teeth behind the telephone.
“alright y/n, see you in a few minutes. gotta go wake bill up from his beauty sleep.”
click!
you let out a breath you hadn’t even known to be holding, looking at the ceiling for strength you so desperately needed. why were you such a sucker for him? you don’t know when he got his hooks in you but they had to have been in deep.
˖ ݁♬⋆.˚𝄞.
bill showed up fifteen minutes later in a familiar car, nodding politely as you climbed in. he looked amused—clearly micheal’s dramatic begging hadn’t stopped at the age of ten.
the ride went by quick with polite small talk to the man you practically grew up alongside, pulling into the large home as you have so many times before.
bill led you to the front door and practically vanished, knowing you could map the direction of the house with your eyes closed.
quick pit pattering of quiet feet rushed towards you from upstairs, “you’re here!” his face lit up like a kid in a candy store.
“you manipulated me micheal don’t make it sound like we arranged this.” you tried to fight the smile that came with his infectious energy.
he couldn’t wait a second longer, he grabbed your wrist and tugged you towards the living room—looking exactly how he described it on the phone. blankets everywhere, pillows messily decorating the floor, and a movie waiting to be played on the television.
“well, you certainly weren’t lying.” you looked over at him, heart beginning to race at how handsome he looked tonight. his clean smelling cologne and shiny curls cascading down his chiseled face made this feel so surreal. your lips parted with a shaky breath, eyes flitting down to his full lips that were a pretty pink.
quickly looking away, feeling your pulse hammer against your ribs like it wanted to jump out.
he naturally does the same, taking a glance at the way your lips glossed in the light. “i take my movie nights very very seriously y/n, let’s go grab some icecream.”
he reaches for you without even realizing, grabbing your hand in his and clasps your fingers together. leading you with such a giddy expression it makes your stomach flutter with a sudden warm feeling.
the house felt so unreal at this hour, it was far to big and quiet, too dreamlike. every sound echoed, the freezer door opening, the clinking of spoons, and micheals soft breath as he hovered way too close behind you.
he wasn’t even pretending to help you. just standing there watching every expression that pulled on your face.
“are you just gonna watch me do all the work or help me?” you looked over your shoulder with a teasing glance, noticing how intently he was staring.
“im supervising.” he murmured, voice warm with that shy rasp.
you swallowed harder then you meant to, hands nervously fumbling with the scoop.
when you handed him the bowl, he purposefully let his fingers brush up against yours. not dramatic, just letting them linger a longer then he ever had courage to. like he wasn’t ready to let go yet.
“that good?” you asked.
he nodded, trying to distract himself from how powdery and sweet you smelled.
you just smiled with a playful scoff, reaching for the chocolate syrup—and he literally followed you. as soon as you took the step he also took a step. “youre hovering mikey.”
“i know, just don’t wanna be to far from you.” he admitted quietly.
the confession sat between you, strangely honest for the normally shy man. you handed him the syrup to distract the both of you, and just like he did so many years ago he covered the strawberry icecream in chocolate syrup—a full spiral, then another.
“alright no more michael, don’t wanna hear you complain about a chocolate induced stomachache later,” you giggled, reaching for the bottle.
he held it out of reach playfully, “can never have to much chocolate, doll.”
you rolled your eyes at him, taking a spoonful of the cold dessert and feeling it melt along your tongue.
“you got icecream on ya face,” he said, tapping his own bottom lip.
“where?” you darted out your tongue, trying to lick the dollop of icecream seemingly on your face.
he didn’t raise his hand, didn’t even reach for a napkin. he just stepped in closer, brushing the corner of your mouth with his thumb. light, barley a whisper of touch.
he brings his thumb to your mouth, the same one that was shining with gloss and ice cream and licked it clean. “there.”
you stared at him. lips parting with a quiet breath, heart picking up that same nervous pace.
he swallowed, eyes flitting from your eyes back to your mouth like he couldn’t decide which was prettier. a subtle hint of want lying deep in his gut. before you called attention to it, he leaned in. slow, hesitant, and allowed his body to do all the work for him.
he gently pressed his lips against yours, so gentle, so achingly micheal it made your stomach blossom with butterflies. he truly was a gentleman inside and out, sure he wanted to kiss you till you both lost breath but he knew that wasn’t the way to approach such a beautiful woman like you—he had to treat you like the P.Y.T you were.
when he pulled away he almost looked embarrassed, a gentle pink flush rising on his cheeks.
“sorry,” he whispered. “i just..had to. been wanting to.” a quiet confession.
you put your spoon down beside you, heartbeat loud in your ears. “you don’t have to apologize for giving a girl what she wants.”
finally, a smile rose to his lips. showing all of his thirty two sparkly white teeth like he couldn’t believe you enjoyed that kiss. he had been dreaming of it your whole ride here, planning how to seem calm and collected about it.
“you still owe me a nightclub night,” you laughed, bringing a sweet, gentle kiss to his cheek.
“ill take you every weekend mama,” he said almost instantly, wrapping an arm around your waist as the other held his ice cream.
“you’re ridiculous.”
luckily you picked up that phone, make sure you do everytime !
@dollhabits work ! ,, not proofread :-(
a/n: im literally going to make three thousand of these i need boyfriend micheal so badly rn its not even funny 😭 but please send me ideas in my dms, comments or inbox!! not guaranteed that ill get to it but i literally love talking to you guys and id love to write about what you guys personally enjoy. loves ya!
Hello what about a sweet story about Michael pampering his fiancee. Drawing her a bath then giving her a full body massage talking to her sweetly with kisses 🤭
pampering the love of my life.
thriller m. jackson x fiancée reader. anon states the gist! this is so sweet. established relationships, kissing, massages, fluffiness.
──────────────────────
m'tired...
resting comfortably in the tub, soapy water covered your body in a blanket of warmth that soothed your muscles. michael made sure to add a few drops of essential oils and sprinkles of epsom salt to make sure you could truly relax.
y'can fall asleep if it gets to you. just give me a warning!
michael's playfulness always made you giggle, and that's exactly what he wanted to see. a smile on your face, always.
the scent of lavender soothed you the moment he guided you to settle into the bath. sitting on the porcelain next to the tub, michael's palms were on your shoulders.
rubbing his fingertips into the taut knots, he whispered sweet things under his breath.
i wont fall asleep...
in the middle of your sentence, you yawned out with a breathy sigh. michael knew you too well, knowing that the massage combined with the bath would soothe you just enough for you to doze off.
however, he did want to give you a proper massage. not just your shoulders.
how about in a few minutes i can give you that massage, huh?
michael proposed the idea, humming while he traced his fingertips to your scalp, giving you a gentle head massage. tipping your neck back into his palms, you looked up at him with a grin.
for me?
michael laughed, nodding his head.
for my gorgeous fiancée, anything.
──────────────────────
michael made sure you were pampered even out of the bath. he didn't let you do much work.
helping you out of the tub was the bare minimum; he made sure to swoop you off your feet, set you down on the porcelain, and begin drying you off.
you couldn't help but reach out and caress his forearm, reeling him in for a kiss on the cheek.
you're too sweet, mikey... always pampering me.
whispering, you gazed at michael adoringly. he truly was your person.
love seeing my girl all happy, y'know?
michael's lips curled into a grin, peppering kisses down the side of your face. abruptly, the moment he guided you to your feet, you were soon off the ground once again, in michael's arms, bridal style.
give a girl a warning!
bursting into a fit of laughter, michael held you near while stepping to the bed and positioning you down carefully.
you were his princess; he would always treat you like one.
don't be dramatic!
with a dramatic gasp, you grabbed michael's hand and pulled him close.
mikey! don't call your fiancée dramatic!
michael giggled, rolling his eyes with a playful little smirk. he loved when you both would banter like this, it made him feel comfortable enough to act that way with you.
okay, okay. turn around, baby. let me give you a nice massage...
──────────────────────
michael knew how to make you relax in all the right ways. his attention to detail with the pressure of his palms gliding across your moisturized skin nearly had you falling asleep after five minutes.
fighting to stay awake, you just loved to talk to him. dragging on endless conversations accompanied with a little yawn after each string of words.
michael couldn't help but laugh at your attempts.
baby, quit talkin' and let me just give you a massage...
he scolded lightly, applying a little more oil on your back. he stared at how your muscles relaxed under his fingertips, bringing a smile to his face.
y're so precious, y'know? like an angel,
he whispered, those words making you feel sleepier. you felt so comfortable and safe. always with him.
y'think so?
your voice was light, on the verge of slumber. michael nodded from behind you, sighing out in awe. he loved you.
i know so.
love you...
whispering, your eyelids felt heavier with each passing second. soon enough, you'd drift your way to sleep.
michael didn't stop massaging you. after a few minutes, he leaned close to gently press light kisses up your back and to your shoulders. making sure he didn't wake you, michael pulled the blanket over your bare figure to keep you warm.
for a few seconds, he just stared down at you.
admiring how gorgeous you looked. his heart felt warm, and he couldn't ever rub that smile off his face whenever he saw you.
sweetest dreams, princess.
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usage of princess because like. i feel like the whole fairytales/princesses/prince interest brought them together. so cute.
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the stage lights of the 1986 American music awards were so painfully bright they made everything shimmer—the cameras, the crowd, the gold envelope that trembled slightly within your grip. regardless you held a steady smile, letting out a puff of air.
you weren’t sure if it was the nerves or because your micheal was sitting front row looking like a million bucks.
the quiet, brilliant, endlessly gentle micheal that made it his mission to kiss off all of your lipstick right before you went on stage. lips still swollen with friction. you freshened up of course but the sensation of his soft, plump, warm lips still lingered.
your heels clicked sharply against the polished stage floor as you walked out, making a mental note to not trip. the lights were far to bright, the applause too forced, and the air too thick with perfume.
but none of that is what made your stomach twist.
it was him.
micheal was right there in the front row, leaning slightly forward, elbows resting on his knees. his suit was unbelievably crisp, gleaming just enough to catch the light, curls styled perfectly in his signature hairstyle. but it was the way he stared that made the pressure in your gut intensify.
a smug smile etched onto his face as he watched you walk up on stage, looking beyond proud at how he could see the swollen nature of your kissed out lips from where he was sitting.
you forced your thoughts into a line and stepped to the microphone.
“good evening,” you spoke, smile soft and steady. “tonight, i have the honor of presenting best male rock artist..”
absentmindedly his lips parted, eyes softening just hearing your voice. and something in his posture shifted, like he was silently rooting for you even though you were just reading off a card.
you cleared your throat, trying not to look at him.
“and the award goes to..”
you opened the envelope slowly just like you practiced, dragging out the suspense because that’s what the producers wanted— but also because there was a small shake in your hands.
“bruce springsteen!” you flipped the card around to show the audience.
the crowd cheered so loudly it vibrated your ribs.
you brightened, a practiced smile curling your lips upwards.
and then bruce was suddenly there, jogging up the stairs with the biggest grin, energy exploding off of him as he swept you right off your feet, literally.
“y/n! get over here!” he laughed, arms opening far to wide.
before you could even properly brace yourself for what was to come, which absolutely wasn’t planned. he swept you up.
you were lifted off the ground, feet dangling in the air, dress tightening around your waist from where his arms were braced around you, spinning you around in a full circle like the two of you were headlining a rom-com.
your stomach flipped nervously, but you managed a breathless laugh for the cameras. hands gripping his shoulders for support because you refused to face plant on national television.
“bruce!” you yelped, heat rushing to your face. “this is not what we practiced!” you looked at the camera with a smile, making this all seem natural.
he only grinned wider, setting you back onto your heels while keeping one strong arm braced alongside your back to steady you. his fingers dug into your waist like he had every right to, like he knew your body better then you did.
then he leaned in, warm breath brushing against your cheek.
and before you could react, he kissed your cheek like he’s done it before. quick, playful, dishonest.
but bold above it all.
way, way to bold.
of course the audience loved it, they whooped and cheered with delight. completely eating it up.
but something inside of you clenched, because that kiss was purely meant for the cameras. it felt a little like he was showing off. like he felt comfortable enough to show something off that wasn’t his because your dress hugged you in all the right places.
you forced out a bitter laugh, stepping back a half step, keeping the energy light and playful. “you’re too much, bruce.”
but as he moved to the microphone, you let your eyes drift off to the crowd. most importantly the front row, gauging everyone’s reactions to that ridiculous performance by the rockstar.
micheal hadn’t moved, not even a little.
his expression wasn’t angry, he doesn’t do angry in public. but his jaw was noticeably tight, his mouth drawn into a firm line and eyes were dark in a way that made your heart skip several beats.
like he’d gone very, very quiet in a way that meant he was thinking too much. the same silent storm you knew to be troubling. continuing to eat at him until he finally snapped.
and even worse, his eyes weren’t just roaming your face, they were tracing the spots where bruce had touched you, like he was replaying it. he hated the memory even sitting in his conscience.
“shit,” you mouthed under your breath, half amused, half already bracing for the argument later.
you hesitantly stepped back up to the podium after bruce had finished his speech, trying to swallow the racing pulse that threatened to jump out of your mouth.
“now we present the special guest of the night award,” you cleared your throat, hands gesturing towards micheal. “micheal jackson everybody!”
the crowd exploded with cheers and legitimate excitement, but you could barley focus because when he stood up everything else around you became a distant dull buzz.
he moved with such a different grace then the rockstar previous to him, no rush, no show. just unapologetically himself, smooth careful steps like the entire room was something he already knew how to navigate.
but his eyes?
they hadn’t left you for even a second, even now as he walked up the steps. when he reached you he stopped just close enough to feel your breath against his neck. taking a moment to look you up and down, tongue darting out to his bottom lip.
“you’re staring mikey,” you whispered automatically, softer then you intended.
his eyes snapped to your face, looking at the same cheek that another man had just previously kissed. the thought alone made his hands clench, knuckles flushing white with abhorrent anger.
he took the award when it was handed to him, but it barley registered. his fingers closed around it like an afterthought.
“thank you…very much,” he began. “im honored.”
applause rolled through the room casually, but he didn’t respond to it the way he usually did. he didn’t shy away from it, he didn’t even give a boyish smile.
instead, his eyes angrily flicked towards you again.
your lips twitched faintly, he wasn’t being subtle about this, not even a little.
“i think…it’s important to remember,” he continued slowly, voice tender but firm underneath it all. “to treat women with respect, with unconditional care.”
a silent beat passed.
“i don’t like when people forget that.”
your eyebrows lifted slightly, the corner of your mouth fighting a smile you refused to make a show of.
because you knew him all to well, this wasn’t a speech. this was micheal trying his hardest not to say too much in front of thousands of people. even worse, taking you in his arms and kissing you in places that would absolutely get you two blacklisted from an event like this ever again.
“thank you for this, to everyone who really supports me. knows that i don’t tolerate ignorance.” he finished a little to quickly, like staying up there any longer would make him lose control of something.
then he stepped back, immediately turning towards you. not the audience, not the camera crew, not even at the fan girls in the back. as if his body knew that was the only direction that mattered.
he didn’t even look where he was walking—just bolted straight to your side, close enough that his shoulder brushed alongside yours as he headed backstage.
“come with me,” he muttered, barley audible but his tone made it clear that it wasn’t up for discussion.
the second you two were off stage the noise of the AMA’s dissolved into something distant and muffled, like the world had been wrapped in velvet and shut behind you.
you barley had time to register what was happening let alone a full breath out before his firm hand locked onto your wrist, guiding you to his dressing room.
he stopped only when you reached a quiet stretch of the private room—dim lights, empty chairs, the faint echo of stage music still vibrating against the walls.
and then he turned.
no cameras now, no crowd, no performative smiles and nods. just the sound of his unsteady breathing, chest rising and deflating with an unseen anger. he looked down at your wrist and finally let go, like he hadn’t realized how long he’d been holding you.
“that wasn’t funny,” he said, voice low and trembling with irritation.
you blinked. “micheal—”
“he put his hands on you.” his voice cracked with such real raw emotion, “when he spun you around like that…and then he kissed you—”
he stood several feet away from you now, one hand braced against his hip while the other repeatedly dragged anxiously through his curls. but not because he was trying to fix them, because he didn’t know what else to do with himself.
“from where i was sitting it looked like you were perfectly comfortable being lifted and spun around in front of thousands watching.” his head tilted slightly, something sharp in the way he looked at you now.
that sentence landed like a match striking in dry air.
your eyebrows raising in complete disbelief before you could even stop yourself, “comfortable? are you serious micheal? i was unknowingly picked up infront of those thousand people while being recorded. i didn’t exactly have time to complain.”
his jaw tightened immediately, making a quiet clicking sound with his tongue. clearly fighting an eye roll. “that’s not what i meant and you know it.”
“then speak up, because if you’re trying to accuse me of enjoying that interaction you’ll be walking your ass home.” you shot back, heels clicking harder then necessary onto the cold tile floor because you couldn’t bear to stay still as he looked at you like you orchestrated the whole thing.
“im not—im not angry at you.” he replied quickly, exactly how he did when taking to a family member. not wanting anymore trouble then the conversation was worth, he completely shuts down when arguing was involved. but the tone alone told you he was more then upset.
you let out a humorless laugh, “that’s funny mike, your looking at me like i asked him to lift up my dress and have fun.”
his eyes snapped towards you, as if the words that just came out of your mouth repulsed him. he let out a dry scoff, already irritated by someone touching you let alone pulling up your dress. wrong choice of words.
“don’t even say something that like that, are you crazy?” he laughed angrily, taking just a few strides before he was right infront of you. his long legs allowing him to travel quicker, breath hitting your face as his eyes traced every detail of your pretty face.
both of you far to stubborn to speak up, inhaling each others scent as you tried to swallow the urge to smash your lips against his. anger aside he looked good enough to create a warm heat between your legs, pressing them together hoping he doesn’t notice.
his shoulders rose and fell with a heavy breath before he shook his head. “this isn’t getting us anywhere.”
you folded your arms, “that’s because you refuse to say you’re sorry.”
“and you refuse to understand why im upset.” his eyes narrowed onto your lips, subtly watching the way they glistened and popped with each word.
for a second neither of you moved, then micheal suddenly turned towards the dressing room door with determination simmering in his brown doe eyes.
“what are you doing? im still talking to you micheal!” an irritated glare flashed on your face quickly as he reached for the shiny handle, immediately assuming the worst. that he was going to walk out upset with you, forcing you to follow him like a hurt puppy which you absolutely wouldn’t allow.
“come with me.”
“no.”
“no?” his brow quirked upwards, a toothy grin pulling on his now amused face.
“no.” you finalized, stubbornly crossing your arms over your chest.
he stared at you for a moment before letting out a puff of laughter, throwing his head back in irritation from how stubborn you really had proved to be. instead of arguing with you he just opened the door, latching onto your wrist with his naturally gentle touch.
the sounds of the backstage hallway immediately flooded into your senses, crew members, security, distant arguing, and most importantly. reporters, reporters who’s main goal was to film celebrities all night hoping to catch something raunchy or appealing enough to stir up controversy.
a small cluster of said reporters and photographers had gathered near the end of the corridor, waiting for the celebrities to pass after the show hoping to score a quick two minute interview with someone.
your confusion only grew, “micheal what does this have to do with anything? you’re irritating me.”
micheal looked at them like they could solve world hunger with a quick flash of their cameras, a hungry glimmer decorating his brown eyes. he looked back at you then at them, a smile pulling on his lips.
and suddenly a strange sense of realization started creeping into your chest, trying to pull at his hand to guide him the other way where it was quiet. no press, just a black car waiting to take you two home.
but he wasn’t listening now, or maybe he was but this was his version of ending the argument in a way without words. he had never been good at yelling or getting his point across, far to selfless to allow himself to hurt others with his words. so in his eyes this would solidify his statement.
and before you knew it you were directly infront of atleast ten reports with cameras, expensive microphones that picked up every squeak on the glistening tile.
the second they noticed who was infront of them the flashes exploded, people immediately shoving others to be closer with their cameras, fan girls starting to cry and rush to the scene.
“you wanna argue on camera? what a plan micheal, real childish.” you rolled your eyes, trying to pull your hand away from his to escape from the thousands of cameras that were flashing over your irritated face.
his eyes finally met yours as he shifted his body towards you, a small smile dragging his mouth upwards—looking almost mischievous, and before you could protest any further he pulled you closer. impossible closer.
you stumbled into his chest, flashes starting to become quicker. your heart practically jumped out of your chest, realizing what his plan was all along.
his lips smashed against yours in a heated exchange of, gloss, spit, and the anger of being helplessly in love colliding together on atleast forty different cameras. he didn’t bother pulling away as the flashes consumed your bodies, one hand settling along your waist, pulling you into his firm chest while the other held onto your hand.
you could feel the smug smile on his lips as he kissed you, just like earlier he loved proving that you were undoubtedly his. now you’d be undoubtedly his to every woman in the world.
when he pulled back photographers were practically falling over each other trying to capture even a sliver of a second, on the other hand you couldn’t help but to stare breathlessly at him, a weird fluttering feeling blooming in your stomach.
“tomorrow,” he whispered in your ear, “every magazine is going to have that printed on the front cover, every radio station, every talk show.”
you blinked.
“are you crazy!?” you covered your face, an embarrassed flush heating up your cheeks. covering your mouth with a manicured hand, pulling him away from the crowd as he wore a love struck smirk on his kissed out lips. knowing he didn’t regret a single thing.
“no one will remember that shmuck who picked you up, they’ll remember me kissing you like the last woman on earth.” he giggled behind you, beyond proud of himself.
despite yourself, despite the argument, despite the anger that seemed to dissipate into thin air you felt a laugh threatening to escape.
“you’re ridiculous, mikey. you could’ve just said you were sorry.”
“could’ve, but that felt way better.” he giggled his whole way to the blacked out car, gripping onto your hand like his life depended on it—cheesing like the childish kid he still was at heart.
@dollhabits work!
a/n: this is so booty i think i might rewrite but ever since i saw that clip of him glaring at d*ana at this particular award show i HADDDD to write this like immediately because this is exactly what it gave when he was staring at her on stage like i need that so bad 🥹 also please don’t flame me i literally know NOTHING about bruce springsteen i don’t even know if hes chopped so i will litch swap him out with someone else if you guys want lol
Content: in which Michael's running a fever, yet refuses to stop practicing
A/n: I wrote this with otw Michael in mind, but it can be any era!
“Enough, Michael!” Your voice boomed over the music that blared from the speakers before your fingers moved towards the plug, abruptly cutting the music. The silence that fell amongst the room was almost deafening; the only thing that could be heard was the sound of his ragged breathing, as you watched his chest heave up and down in a rhythmic pattern, sucking up every little bit of air around him, sweat dripping down his forehead and neck, pooling at the collar of his T-shirt.
“But, baby—”
Classic Michael. Using pet names to deflect as soon as he was cornered.
“No, you're clearly not feeling well, yet you'd rather drop dead than admit it and give it a rest.” You crossed your arms, eyes narrowing at his sweaty form. The room felt hot and stuffy, small waves of air hitting the room from the open door, but it wasn't enough to cut through the humidity of the room.
“C'mon, you know I have to practice… I have to be perfect,” his voice was uneven, still catching his breath from the intense dance session that happened moments before. His knees seemed wobbly as he tried his best to hold eye contact. His hand pressed against the wall to steady himself, against the weight of his fatigue and fever. He looked absolutely exhausted, eyes heavy and half-lidded, shoulders hanging low.
“Mike, you've been in the spotlight for so long, performing for fans all over, I think you deserve to give yourself a break. I mean, look at you, you're on the verge of collapsing.” You looped your arm around his own sweaty arm. His skin was hot and flushed, like it could burn your own, but you didn't care. The only thing on your mind currently was keeping him upright.
“Let's get you back to bed, okay? I'll get you a compress and some soup. How does that sound?” You glanced at his features, completely drained of all the energy he had left.
author’s note; the only warning is i wrote this at 3am so if its ass then i am so sorry okay. michael’s cute three are included in this little collection of the concept! so technically the timelines i initially created isnt right but im disregarding the accurate timeline because yolo.
also like i said before, everything is not in order— its just random events. this one is really a filler, ive been working so i haven’t had the chance to write certain blurbs or make the headcanons yet. didn’t proofread!
“i actually accommodate all the kids, thank you very much!” you answered sarcastically as you and michael stand in his kitchen, michael leaning on the stainless fridge with his arms crossed and you standing by the island counter as your hands grip the edges.
the laughter and screams along with the stomping footsteps of the five children in the background, cartoons playing on the living room tv. you glanced over your shoulder to see paris and minnie running with prince chasing behind.
you and michael were bickering over the children, once again. you turned your head back at michael, “you don’t see me complaining about dealing with two kinds of education” you leaned slightly over, “i do the lesson plans with prince and paris at home, bigi learns from flashcards when the two do assignments, minnie and daisy goes to school—“
“you put daisy in a private preschool” michael cut you off, “a preschool..” he repeated, scoffing right after. “why are you willing to pay thousands for a toddler?”
you defensively tossed your hands in the air, “don’t try to say that when you told me you were paying for her!” you exclaimed. a frustrating sigh leaves your lips, “and you’re paying.. so if you want me to take over the pay then speak up”
all michael could do was stare at you, trying to fight back to smirk he was gonna display on his face. he loved (still do) when you would boss him around, or just be in charge of anything.
the custody schedules, the children’s schedules of who has appointments or who has certain lessons on what activities, even bossing him around on his own schedule, event planning, how you took over interviews that were being invasive to you and michael’s private life, sex. he can name it all.
michael shook his head, “i don’t want you to pay” he responded. your hands fell to your side, raising an eyebrow in confusion as you didn’t know where this conversation is going.
“let’s be honest”
“raising five kids by yourself for a week is hard” michael confessed, the kitchen went silent. your lips were curving up into a smile that you were trying to hide.
but you couldn’t contain yourself, letting out the laugh and covering your mouth while you do so.
once you finally held your composure, you waved him off as you were getting your last laugh in. “michael, the only kids that have the most energy are minnie and prince. daisy has attitude problems and i don’t know where—
“she gets it from you” michael interrupted, you rolled your eyes on him butting in again. “she rolls her eyes the exact way” he finally let out that smirk.
“just because you let the kids run you crazy doesn’t mean the kids are doing the same to me!”
speaking of children, little footsteps can be heard stomping towards the kitchen. you and michael both look towards the kitchen doorway, trying to figure out which child would make their appearance.
minnie and bigi walk in holding hands, they stop at the door frame. bigi using his free hand to play with his lips while minnie was swinging their hands back and forth.
“i think blanket needs a nap” minnie spoke, “he just lays on the couch while we play”
your lips turn into a small pout as you make your way to the youngest, minnie lets go of his hand when she sees you come closer.
bigi understood when you approached him, raising his arms up, waiting to be held. your hands grasped his body under his armpits and straightened your body as you put him on your hip. after minnie soon realized you got her younger brother, she took off to play again, hearing her giggles and stomps towards the other room.
“we’ll take nap soon” you whispered as bigi rested his head on your shoulders, his fingers still playing with his mouth. you slightly bounce him up and down.
you let out a sigh, “anyways” you muttered. “are you trying to tell me you’re interested in getting a nanny?” you questioned.
michael pushed himself off the fridge, “i’m not interested in getting a nanny” he answered, “i want us to be in one house again, here” michael continued.
you chuckled, now starting to pace around the kitchen. bouncing blanket in the meantime while he was now in nap mode. “yeah that won’t happen”
“i’m willing to go halfway with you on something.. just not moving back in” you told him, “if you want to unenroll daisy from the preschool then that’s fine— if you want both girls to be homeschooled as well then just say the word”
“but i am handling this whole private school and homeschool process very well” you shrugged your shoulders as you didn’t know what else to say. “besides, the three love to come with me when we need to pick up the girls because they know everyone’s getting ice cream after”
“yeah but when you have to go to work then what” michael crossed his arms, it was like he was starting to get somewhat irritated.
“i literally call all the shots and you know this. my work schedule is whatever i want it to be… why are you acting brand new? how desperate are you to get me back here?”
“desperate enough”
“then prove it.”
author’s note: TO BE FAIR, i did have a certain moment in mind and yet it created this so idk. IM SORRY, I PROMISE IT’LL GET GOOD!! just wanna build things up rn
anywho, i’ve made a tag for this series so it’ll be easier to navigate once i make my masterlist so all the blurbs/drabbles/fics/whatever will be under one thing ;)
Warnings: Smut, 18+, Oral(F rec), Blood, Biting, Vampire!Michael, Singer!reader, P in V, Spit play?, Reader is Ideally black but ANYONE IS WELCOME TO READ, Manipulation if you squint, Sinners 1930’s AU, Reader referred to as Y/N, or bear. BASED IN THE MOVIE SINNERS. This is my first time publishing anythinggg. Sorry if the writing is bad but it’s been on my mind so i had to write it
Summary: You sing at the grand opening of your Cousins Juke joint, Accidentally welcoming in some unwanted evil.
The juke joint was filled with bodies, hot and sweaty bodies. You came alongside your Cousins, Smoke, Stack(Twins), And Sammie. You and Sammie were the two most musically inclined of the Moore family so being apart of this just made sense for the both of you.
You smiled, clapping and cheering for your cousin Sammie who’d just gotten finished singing his song. “Y’all gon’ like this young gal here. She got a voice too” slim announced, helping you up on stage.
“Introduce yourself” he said causing you to nod. “I’m y/n, But everybody call me bear” You projected your voice, earning hums and nods from the crowd.
“The song I’m singing I wrote, not really any meaning” you explained. You took a deep breath as Sammie began playing the guitar, swaying with the rhythm.
Once you began singing it was like you were in an empty room, the pressure of being in-front of a crowd lifted up in seconds.
People began dancing, cheering you on, and watching intently.
You belted out the last note, finally done with the song. The crowd erupted in applause, sending heat to your neck as you smiled wide. You felt very accomplished.
You jumped down from the stage, toying with your mother’s ring that was loose on your finger. You made your way over to the bar where Annie stood, handing out catfish and alcohol.
“Ann, can I get some of that Italian wine please?” You leaned against the counter, earning a hum from her. “Don’t tell nobody i gave you this for free. Me and Elijah gon be in here fussing” she slid you bottle causing you to smile as she referred to your cousin smoke by his real name.
“That man can’t stay mad at you. Plus he knows his little cousin means no harm” you smiled, taking a sip.
“I know. I just don’t feel like arguing with his hard headed ass.” She shook her head, earning a soft laugh from you.
What you didn’t know was outside there was an evil spirit not too far from here. Evil spirits masked as people who meant no harm. And they were coming for you.
You watched Sammie take a seat beside you, a small smile plastered on his face. “You did good, Bear” he spoke, causing you to shake you head.
“Nah. Not as good as you did. I can’t compete with that deep ass voice” you chuckled, Sammie rolling his eyes in response.
“When we get famous we gon do a song together” he nudged your shoulder, causing you to nod, taking another sip of your wine. “‘Course. Gon be real big” you agreed.
“My leg’s gettin numb, let me walk around a bit” You stood, your wine still in your hand. Sammie nodded, causing you to smile before finally walking away.
You hummed along with whoever was singing, chewing on your bottom lip as you weaved through the crowd.
You closed your eyes as your body…and head collided with someone. You stepped back rubbing your forehead looking up at the person. Lord was he handsome.
His skin was glistening under the cheap lights, probably from sweat but that didn’t matter. He wore a blue plaid button up and a blue flat cap, and some grey slacks. He looked put together to be honest.
“Awe I’m sorry. I done ruined your shirt..”you frowned, looking at the large reddish purple stain on his shirt. “It’s fine Miss” He objected, making you feel even worse.
“Nah it’s not. Here let me clean you up” you grabbed his arm, leading him into the closet kinda room. It just had a table and some junk that the twins weren’t using.
“You really don’t have to” he shook his head watching you rummage through crates before finally finding a towel. His eyes were on your ass, and God did you smell good.
He could hear the blood coursing through you veins in a beautiful rhythm. Smooth, thick, warm…sweet.
“I take it you’re that beautiful voice I heard outside.” He removed his shirt, placing it on the table.
“I guess you could say that was me.” You smiled, spreading the shirt to pat it dry. “What’s your name? I ain’t never seen you around before” you pat the towel down on the shirt.
“Michael.” He answered, earning a soft hum from you. “Well I’m Y/N. It’s always nice to see a new face” you smiled.
“You have a really beautiful voice. I love to hear you sing more. Your voice fits your beautiful face” He spoke, and you could feel his eyes practically piercing through you.
“Awe thank you” you flipped the towel on the dry side, continuing to pat. You could see the subtle rise and fall of his chest from the corner of your eye, his eyes not leaving you a second.
Your eyes stayed on your hands as he approached, his footsteps slow. His hands found your chin, forcing you to look up at him.
“Is it okay if i kiss you?” He asked, earning a slow nod from you. A small kiss wouldn’t hurt. His lips brushed over yours before pressing fully against them.
He pressed a few pecks on your lips before demanding access to the inside of your mouth, which you gave him. His hand found the back of your neck, not for control but to ground himself.
He finally broke from the kiss trailing some hot open mouthed kisses from your neck to your shoulder. He threw his head back, eyes closed with a low inaudible groan. He needed to stop now before he turned this into a bloodbath. It was too soon, he needed to do something else to occupy his mouth.
He picked you up, throwing his shirt and the deep red stained towel on the floor, gently setting you on the table. “What you doin boy?” You chuckled, slightly breathless from the kiss.
“Making you feel good” He crouched down, placing a soft kiss on your ankle. You watched him trail up your leg, stopping at your inner thigh to look up at you while his hands were on either up under your dress. You wanted more and he’d be happy to help.
He softly bit your thigh before lifting up your hips to pull down your panties. He couldn’t hold in the hungry groan that fell out when he saw your pussy. Fuck he was so hungry.
Without warning his lips found your clit, a soft gasp escaping you. He began to lightly suck on your clit, your back arching up from the table.
He groaned at your taste, the one of a kind flavor flooding his mouth. He began to practically kiss your pussy, the unique feeling sending chills up your spine a loud moan ripping from your chest. He basically moaned against you once your legs wrapped around his head.
“Oh shit” you groaned, eyebrows knitted together. You grabbed ahold of his hair, using it to ground yourself during your release. He stood, his thumb circling your clit, his free hand wiping his chin clean.
His hand found the back of your neck, bringing your face to his. His thumb brushed your bottom lip, signaling that he wanted your mouth open.
Once your lips opened he bit his lip, imagining his dick in your mouth. But it was way too early to be getting his dick sucked. Too forward don’t you think?
He spit in your mouth before kissing you, his hand now fully wrapped around your throat. His thumb continued to circle your clit, making you grow more sensitive to any kind of contact.
He unzipped his pants, yanking down his boxers to allow his dick to spring free. You looked down, your breath catching once you saw how big his dick was. Your hand wrapped around the base of his dick, using it to lead him closer your aching cunt.
He bit his lip, lining himself up with your entrance. He pushed in, slow at first. His hips bucked at the wonderful sound of your moan. Your fingers scratching his bare back as he began to stroke deep inside of you.
You threw your head back, your neck exposed as you were overwhelmed by pleasure as his dick rapidly jabbed on your g spot. At one point to felt so good you couldn’t even moan, your eyes closed.
“Look at me mama. Let me see your face while you cum on me hm?” Michael spoke, his voice unsteady from the moans he was holding back.
Your eyes fluttered open, landing on his. You could’ve sworn his eyes were glowing but that was just the glint from the light right? Your hips rolled forward into his, the hot orgasm ripping through your body. Your screams were loud, but muffled by his mouth.
He bit at your lip before moving to your neck.
You bit your lip to hold back a moan, a coppery taste filling your mouth, a bit of blood dripping on your chest once you released your lip. “Michael?” You moaned as he worked on your neck, a soft hum to let you know that he was listening.
“My lip is bleeding” you spoke softly. Your words made his hips jerk forward, the soft love bites on your neck slightly growing harder.
You let out a loud scream once his teeth sank into your neck, his hand coming up to cover your mouth. You tasted like everything his imagined and more. You were absolutely beautiful.
He sighed, lying your limp body fully across the table. He picked up a clean towel, attempting to wipe the blood from your neck before it got too dry. He wiped the blood that dripped from his mouth to his neck, the entire bottom half of his face covered in red.
He hummed a soft song, his fingers now tracing your facial features. You were the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen, and he’s been halfway around the world.
Your eyes fluttered open, the man in your face clearer than before. Everything smelt stronger, everything going on inside of you was more powerful, and every one outside reeked of blood.
The thoughts in your head weren’t fully yours at all, mostly his. How beautiful you looked, how he kind of felt bad for getting carried away so early.
You really looked at him now, his face soft. His face was too soft to just had turned you into an entirely different being. “I’m hungry” you expressed causing him to nod.
“You wanna go find you somethin—“ he started, cut off as he looked at you again. You somehow almost had access to your own thoughts too. Anybody he’d ever made by accident shared the exact same thoughts with him.
As you say silent, your mind was reeling, thoughts too loud in his head.
“What did this man do to me?”
“What will I tell my mama?”
“Why am I not bleeding?”
“This feels weird”
You opened your mouth, touching the fangs on either side with your thumbs. “What am I?” You looked over at Michael, his hands resting in his pocket.
“I don’t really know myself” he shrugged, earning a sigh from you. From then on you weren’t normal. You weren’t that girl with went outside early in the morning to watch the deer drink from the pond, and feed the birds the end pieces of bread.
You weren’t the girl who climbed the big tree behind the house and wrote in your journal as the wind nearly knocked you out.
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pairing: jaafar jackson x black!fem oc; aurelia rivers
summary: it’s not getting any easier for our shy man, y’all.
warnings: outfit descriptions, multiple povs, talks of intimacy, cussing, j’s fiancée being very odd from the jump 😃 and possible typos
settings: los angeles
saint’s presidential podium 🪽: back with a new chapterrrr. thank you for the love on the first one you guys, really means a lot. and we’re just gonna pretend chrome hearts is owned by a black family, mkay? 🫨
like, comment and reblog pls!
faceclaim: the pimpcess herself, monaleo
tags are down below, lmk if you wanna be added!
chapter one | series masterlist
jaafar’s home
los angeles, ca
Was it lilies? No, it had to be jasmine or roses. Is that how roses have been smelling these days? It was too strong for it to be any of those flowers. It was oud, sweeter though.
Vanilla oud? Jackpot. Maybe it was layered with something on top to make it a little musky.
And who knew that pink would go so well with gold? It shouldn’t be surprising but it was. The pink was a softer tone, more pale but what could a much brighter shade look like?
Maybe-
“Jaafar! Fuck, I’ve been calling your name like..three times now.” The loud voice coming from across the room snapped him out of his thoughts, his eyes now gazing at his fiance while he played the hem of his shirt. “Sorry, the script. Just running through my head, what were you sayin’?” His brows lifted a bit, indicating that he’s now focused.
A roll of eyes was sent his way. “You’d swear that script’s the one making you toss and turn. I was asking which sandals you prefer with this dress? I haven’t even worn some of them.” Rachel sighed, holding up two pairs on either side of her head.
The brief yet dramatic meeting at the country club was three days ago and Jaafar’s head felt like it was swivelling on a stick because of how busy everything was around him. He thought he’d be prepared, considering the blinding success of ‘Michael’, and that he’d consume himself in a character that had nothing to do with his personal life.
A romcom sounded simple enough to do, just smiles on every scene, slight sarcasm and a hint of angsty scenes to make the audience clutch their hearts and a big kiss at the end of the movie. Life would be normal after then he could finally get back to wedding plans. Unfortunately, it would absolutely go the opposite route.
Rachel wanted to make wedding prep in the middle of shooting, expressing that “he’d have experience from the plot of the movie” and he just nodded along. Reading the script was another thing. There was no twist but it was stated there’d be intense tension between the characters, a couple of kissing scenes and of course, just his luck, a very very intimate scene is included. Rachel almost chewed his head off when he explained it but retreated the anger when Jaafar mentioned that she could come along to Cape Town, a city on their honeymoon list.
And Aurelia Rivers. Well, Aurelia Ivy Rivers - ‘AIR’ on her social media. His agent described her as a talented actress who doesn’t need the job. A nepo baby whose almost always wearing an obscene amount of Chrome Hearts. Jaafar dismissed the tone of his agent as slight bitterness, saying he wants to get to know her beyond the internet articles.
Well, he’d certainly get to know her in Cape Town.
Fuck, he zoned out again. “Sorry, honey. You know I’m hooked.” He apologised with a smile that always made anyone’s heart melt, pointing to the mounted tv playing ‘The Pitt’. It definitely worked now.
“The purple ones would look really nice.” He nodded as she smiled brightly before packing the shoes in the suitcase.
“Thank you! Need to pack the steamer too. Oh, by the way, when’s your meeting?” She stood, blocking the screen as she folded her clothes.
Jaafar looked down at his watch and kissed his teeth. “In an hour. Let me get ready.” He spoke, basically leaping from the couch towards the bedroom.
KLEIN MGMT
Aurelia’s mules clicked through the halls, her hands desperately trying to find something to do while she walked to the exec’s room. Counting down the seconds until she’d have the most awkward meeting she’s ever had in her life.
Intimacy was something she knew she needed to tap into before landing such a big job as lead actress. Since dipping her toe in the dating pool after a long ‘hiatus’, she was willing to explore it all with her partner. Damien had the confidence of a basketball player who knew he could win the league for the team however he had the skill of an intern who slacks off work to play video games. Essentially speaking, Aurelia’s life in the bedroom was stagnant and she tried to avoid being sexually active with Damien or anyone else as much as she could.
Until now.
“Oh, there she is! Leading lady Lia!” Frank boasted, standing from his seat next to the intimacy coordinator and sitting across was none other than Jaafar. His hair looked so full and curly, with a few strands hanging a little loose. Looking cozy from the waist up, Aurelia skimmed at her co-star and focused on Frank leading her to her seat.
The musky scent of sandalwood and something sweet hit her senses all at once, lowering herself rather slowly into the chair. “Morning everyone, hope you haven’t started yet.” She spoke with a soft tone, quickly introducing herself to the lady right across her.
Turning her head to her right, she nodded and smiled in an acknowledgment and he did the exact same. This was work, they’re working.
“You’re alright, sweetheart. We just need to get into the nitty gritty since this meeting was pushed to the very end before leavin’ for Cape Town.” Shonda spoke, opening a file of hers while the leads had their most intimate scenes printed on 4 pieces of paper each.
The pair nodded while Frank sat back and watched the ordeal.
“Alright so starting off on a light note, I usually like to give my clients very soft tasks to do in front of me. I take your partners are okay with this happenin’ because I do not need nobody barging in on set.”
Another nod.
“Perfect! Let’s get started.”
Jaafar stood next to Aurelia, not really noticing the height difference the first time they had met but he wasn’t complaining. Aurelia on the other hand, shifted from side to side and feeling rather uncomfortable from her heels.
“Alright, need y’all to hold hands. Make sure to not flinch.” Shonda pointed her pen at them, watching their hands. His hand twitched, his pinky standing guard as it brushed against her skin and it felt incredibly soft before he slid his long fingers right between hers. It felt oddly comfortable but he dared not to look down at their connected hands, her nails brushing against the bulging veins on his hand and that somehow felt more intimate than anything he’d ever felt.
Letting out a breath at the contact, Aurelia subconsciously squeezed his hand while desperately waiting for Shonda to give them another direction. Thankfully her mind was read and they moved on to holding the inside of his elbow, then side-hugging to actual hugs.
Jaafar couldn’t explain how it felt to have his chest pressed against Aurelia’s own, her arms linking behind his neck and the slight scratch of her bracelets sent shivers down his spine. Her scent enveloped him, oud and vanilla it was and he was sure it’d be cemented in his nose for the coming future. His hands were splayed across her back and he really tried to not let them fall any lower than the middle.
Aurelia initiated the separation, feeling her heart about to race and she couldn’t handle him feeling it against his sweater. “Was that good? You smell fantastic, btw.” She complimented, their eyes connected once again and it’s like he morphed into a bunny with his curls slightly bouncing, it was the cutest thing.
“Thanks….and um, yeah. Great hug, very comfortable.” He spoke, nodding gently and keeping his eyes on the side profile of her face as if he were memorising it all to draw a picture.
Fuck, Jaafar, get it together.
“Ain’t y’all just a great pair? My goodness, Frank.” Shonda lightly hit the director on the hand, silently complimenting the work of casting. “Now, y’all will probably think that I just wasted your time simply for hand holding and hugs. I just needed to scope out the chemistry between you two. The rest of these scenes…they get a lil crazy.” The older woman explained, watching for their faces and how they reacted just being next to each other.
“We got months of filming on our hands and I will be on deck checking if y’all don’t hate each other to do these scenes.” Shonda started. “Alright, this last exercise before y’all sprint out. Aurelia, are you comfortable with all this?”
“Yes ma’am.”
“Jaafar?”
“Yeah, I’m comfortable.”
“Good. Now…Jaafar, go sit on that couch. Sit on the edge of it like you at a party or something. Lia, take a breath with me.” In and out. “Go sit on that boy’s lap and make sure it doesn’t look like you had no place to sit. Act like that was your seat in the first place.”
Aurelia’s stomach flipped before looking behind her where Jaafar was sitting, rubbing his hands on his knees to rid of the nerves. They looked at each other, barely letting the thought simmer between them before Aurelia moved with precision. She touched his shoulder first with the bracelets chiming together and as if already knowing this dance, he opened his arms a little with one on her lower back, guiding her onto his thigh.
Jaafar took a breath, wanting to stay as calm as he possibly could when she finally settled in his lap. He knew he sounded utterly perverted but her ass was one of the softest things he’d ever felt on him. Through denim fabric too. It curved perfectly between where his crotch and hip meet. He hadn’t even realised that his hand was touching her bare skin with the edges of her shirt having risen during the hug. The feeling of his engagement ring slightly digging into Aurelia’s skin to keep her steady was an odd one.
He wanted to pull her closer, to smell the extra sweet scent that he got a whiff of earlier and to keep the warmth from escaping between them. He paused, gazed at the denim on her legs that had a couple black and pink crosses around the knee and hip. These were the ones Rachel had been wanting for months and yet Aurelia had already them like they weren’t a dream for his fiancée.
Fiancée. Rachel. Yes.
“Excellent stuff, y’all. Can’t wait for our next one, you could be my favourite clients.” Shonda grinned, slamming her notebook in a happy mood. The pair had already disconnected by the time the older woman spoke, Aurelia quickly returning to her assigned office chair with Jaafar joining her after discreetly adjusting his outfit.
He knew it was wrong. Completely. He’ll book at Rachel’s favourite restaurant tonight.
A couple of minutes later, the sun shined on the both of them as they walked out of the building. Jaafar was his usual quiet self with his hands in his pocket and next to him, it’s as if Aurelia completely transformed into a new person behind her sunglasses.
“Gotta get used to them.” She spoke, heels clicking against the gravel as she pointed to a nearby bush. He could spot at least three cameras pointed at them and he could already picture it on the internet with all types of false headlines. She - on the other hand - dug through her purse for lip gloss, essentially just putting on a show for the hungry photographers.
They both stopped at their respective Range Rovers, one black and one was white. Sure enough, Aurelia’s had the same crosses on her pants right on the passenger window, a small sticker but it was perfectly in sight. “You really like Chrome Hearts, don’t you? It’s all mysterious and cool.” Jaafar chuckled a bit.
“That’s all my dad wants to hear when you talk about it. Hell, it is his first baby after all.” She shrugged, unlocking her car to chuck her purse inside. He was taken aback a little, she just mentioned it like it was the smallest thing that mattered in her world. Her family just casually founded Chrome Hearts, of course they did.
“Huh.” He sounded out, quite impressed if he was being honest. “I was wonderin’ why you wore so much of it. That’s really cool.” He smiled, staying planted in his spot, not making a move to go any nearer to his car.
Now the sunglasses were off and she gave him a smile, making his breath hitch. “Y’know, I been meanin’ to tell you that you did a phenomenal job with ‘Michael’. You sure do know how to capture an audience, Jaafar.” She commented with her head tilted in the slightest and her smile never fell.
Surely, he was seeing things by now. Maybe the perfumes and colognes got to his head because why would her voice become a tab bit lower with her head tilted? He desperately needed some rest. “Thank you, it really means a lot.” He gushed, his hand reaching to scratch the nape of his neck.
“No problem. So…Cape Town? I’ll see you there, bright and early.” She assured, wanting so badly to smile again just to see him squirm a little. She gave a wave before flipping her hair back and climbing in the car. Once the door closed, he climbed into his own, trying to take a deep breath and hope he was hallucinating because that could not happen again.
Aurelia watched as he drove off, giving little honks to each other once he pulled out of parking. She lightly smirked to herself. “It’s a shame he’s spoken for.” She spoke to herself, pressing push to start and feeling it roar beneath her. “Can’t afford to be distracted though.” She continued.
“Her Siri, text Damien and tell him I’m on my way.” She called out as she also drove off. She desperately needed to get her mind off her co-star. She didn’t need things being awkward so soon into filming so off to her boyfriend’s place it is.
saint’s notes: hope y’all enjoyeddddd!! lmk what you think 🫶🏽
(if your name is blank, that’s because tumblr doesn’t allow you to be tagged! lmk if you wanna be added ofc and no, i won’t change the hashtags because we need more exposure 😛🫶🏽)
through every era, him. 18+ (cassie as singer claim)
°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
Addicted.
That was the only word to describe the way Michael felt about you.
Like a junkie hooked on white powder or burning liquor — he craved you like a man dying of thirst in the desert.
He was spellbound.
He knew it was heavily frowned upon, to be completely and utterly infatuated with you, due to his martial loyalty to another woman — but there was something so tempting and dangerously fascinating about you that he couldn’t deny. A feeling that lingered deep in his soul from the moment he heard your gracious voice, let alone your face.
The crazed obsession started on a bleak, icy morning in November of ‘95, the air had grown colder with each passing day in the winter month, forcing Michael to wrap up in a thick coat as he slipped into the back of Bill Bray’s car. Although Bill, his life-long Head of Security and the embodiment of a father figure, had reduced his day-to-day personal contributions to Michael’s bustling life — he was always there to provide Michael a lift like the good old days.
“Hey, son.” Bill spoke first, turning to face the now older man he had helped raise, a calming smile spread across his face, “Lisa’s?”
“Yes, please, Bill.” Michael replied, his voice soft and gentle even in his adulthood.
Bill started the car, the engine rumbling to life as he slotted it into gear and rolled slowly forwards. Silence consumed the car as the radio played familiar, popular songs of the mid-90’s in the background, Michael eyes transfixed on the blurs of the streets as they sped by.
“How are things with you two?” Bill qiestion, his voice tentative as he raised the obvious question on everyone’s lips.
Lisa Marie Presley, daughter of the famous Elvis Presley and now wife to Michael Jackson himself, hadn’t made their marriage easy. Vacations with ex-lovers, fighting at award ceremonies, silent treatment games back and forth — it was becoming a toxic relationship, something Michael wanted no part in. Everyone in Hollywood, and across the globe for that matter, was relentlessly hounding the pair with questions regarding the state of their marriage — and the answer was simple.
Destroyed.
Michael sighed, “I don’t know,” He started, voice quieter, a tone of sadness evident, “Not good, I think.”
Bill laughed despite the sensitive topic, “You think? Son, that definitely can’t be good.”
“Yeah.” Michael breathed a reciprocal laugh, “It’s not.”
Silence consumed the car once more as Michael’s brain flooded with thoughts of his wife. If you’d even class as her one, as she hadn’t been acting as such. Fights, brutal screaming matches, happening every day — like clock work. Whether it was over the phone, in person or even through their own personal management — there were arguments. Ones that grew so volatile that it had Michael shaking in anger. He didn’t want to grow to hate her, to resent his own wife, but his heart was sure going that way. He was getting older, and ready to settle down, not spend his days in a whirlwind of cuss words and shouting.
It was only the sweet voice of a blissful symphony that dragged Michael out of his depressive trance.
The beat was slow and fluid — the type you’d involuntarily sway your hips to. The backtracking beat was low, something you could easily groove to, paired with a high-pitched, yet not unpleasant, ding! that flowed beautifully with the music.
And then your voice sounded out — and Michael’s heart stopped.
You sounded angelic, like the gates of heaven had opened and dropped you straight into a recording studio, opening your pretty lips and blowing everyone away with your utterance. You sang with such incredible delivery and talent that Michael’s breath hitched in his throat as he listened intently to each words that came through the radio.
‘One touch can bring us closer,
Don’t want this to be over,
You know that you complete me,
Your love is what I need,
Don’t rush to say you’re leaving,
Stay with me while I’m sleeping,
‘Cause you know what you do to me,
I’m weak and you know my heart is beating,’
Michael hummed — hands tapping against his clothed thighs as the fluidity of the beat took control of his body, leg bouncing and head nodding in time.
“Want me to turn it up, Mike?” Bill spoke as the music flowed quietly into the car.
“Please do.”
Once the dial of volume control was turned to the right, your voice now a perfect decibel to hit his delighted ears as you reached the chorus — Michael was a goner.
‘One, two, three, kiss, that’s when I know that we,
Four, five, six, kiss, have the right chemistry,
You don’t have to hold back or be shy,
I can tell you want me in your eyes,’
You repeated the catchy chorus once more, unaware to how besotted Michael was becoming with the sound of your voice and your musical talent — now complete submerged in the effortlessness of your sound.
‘Feels so good ‘cause I know that you’re mine,
Boy I got my eyes closed ‘cause you know that I,
Love it when you kiss me,
Love it when our lips meet,
You intoxicate me,
I barely can breathe,
I love when you kiss me.’
Now, he was hooked.
Mumbling a silent curse of blissful disbelief under his breath, a wild smile splayed across his face, lip coming between his teeth as he attempted to suppress the grin — but failed to prevail, teeth shining in the morning light as your beautiful vocals continued to bless his ears.
“Bill,” Michael sounded out as the song finished, only allowing silence for when you were singing, “Find out who that girl is.”
And that he did — Michael was informed you were an up-and-coming, young singer from LA, born and raised. At first, he was let down, assuming you were going to portray yourself like every other Californian singer — but alas, not. He watched every interview and concert you provided to his willing eyes — you were a sweetheart, always appreciative of your parents for bringing you into this world to provide music, and for selflessly paying for your singing lessons and vocal coaches. He was similarly enamoured by the way you would thank God for helping guide you through the hard, starting years where your career didn’t take off, stating his patience and commitment to your success was forever indebted to them. His heart would flutter, like a small boy with a crush, each time your delicate, gentle voice would hit his ears with a girly giggle.
But, it wasn’t just your lovely, down-to-earth nature or perfect voice that really got him good — it was that face. And by God, that body.
He hated himself for being such a lewd man — but whenever your gorgeous complexion would cloud his vision, he’d physically feel his heart rhythmically fall into tachycardia in his chest. In mind, body and soul, as well as voice and face, you were truly an angel — a truly heavenly being that had swept him off his feet from the moment he fell deep into your orbit. He had grown to love every part of you — the way you talked with such delicacy, the nude lipgloss adorning your plump lips glistening in the bright light of the interview recording he’d been watching, or the way your skin glistened like a glazed baked good begging to be devoured, or the way your slender fingers adorning a fresh manicure moved as you talked, or how your hips moved with experienced precision when you danced to the beat of one of your beautiful songs, hair flailing behind you as you grooved — every part of you had him transfixed, willing to be at your mercy if you so needed him to.
He spent the next few months, his affection for you bleeding into December, completely in love. With his wife, barely. No, he was dangerously in love with you. Something he deep down hated himself for — a thought he’d push to the back of his mind, hiding his guilt behind his fleeting, boyish crush.
He attended a routine interview, one he was bored of the second he arrived, growing increasingly more fatigued as he was grilled about impersonal and inappropriate questions — not once attempting to ask him about his musical career or inspirations, just about his private sexual life and his failing marriage.
It was only when your song, the one he had fallen deeply head-over-heels for, began playing softly in the background of the interview did he perk up — the radio softly crackling as your angelic symphony filled his ears. He hummed, an undeniably wide smile spreading across his face at the sound of your vocal heaven, hand tapping in time along the arm of the chair he was say comfortably in.
The reporter picked up on it — “Do you like this song, Michael?”
Michael really couldn’t hide his grin now, “Hm? Oh, yeah,” He breathed, the mere thought of you in his dazed brain flushing his cheeks burgundy, “I really do love it, yeah. She’s so talented. Truly an amazing, notable artist of this generation.”
“And beautiful too, right?”
Michael knew what the pressing interviewer before him was trying to do — attempting to force him to make a mess of himself on camera after making subtle hints to the decline of marriage, and then admitting he found another woman attractive.
Michael laughed, the answer ‘Oh God, yes’ hitting the forefront of his brain, as he just nodded in agreement, requesting the next question, pushing the thought to the back of his mind, cheeks now scorching hot.
You had heard the interview yourself — wanting nothing more than to watch it over and over again a thousand times as Michael’s words hit your ears. You had squealed so loudly your throat burned — cheeks flushing in admiration at the King of Pop complimenting you wholeheartedly and alluding to your beauty. You were, unbeknownst to Michael, in a similar state of infatuation with the said man — your heart hammering in your chest every time he would appear on your television, or play through the radio, his own beautiful, unlike-no-other voice hitting your ears having a familiar affect on you like you did to him. You had admired him for years — him being one of the main inspirations for starting your music career due to his passion and strong leadership in the artistry — that and he was gorgeous, truly a godly statement of handsome in the industry.
You had responded swiftly at an award ceremony, one that he regretted instantly not attending — talking jovially with a reporter when they asked you about him.
“Oh, yes, I saw that.” You giggled, suddenly shy at the reminder, “He’s so lovely, I’m truly thankful for his kind words. He’s been an idol of mine for many years.” You paused, winking as you spoke your next words, “And I think he’s pretty beautiful too.”
Michael had to practice his breathing after he watched what you said — his heart hammering violently in his chest as you spoke flirtatiously with ease. You had noticed him — yes, he was Michael Jackson, arguably one of the most famous men in the world, but you had acknowledged him, and he was spiralling, unable to wipe the smirk off his face for a good two days afterwards.
But, that smile was soon wiped clean off his face as the latest hot gossip that was revealed to the media.
You had got yourself a boyfriend.
One Michael decided he absolutely despised without even meeting him, let alone even meeting you — he knew he had intense, undeniable feelings for you, growing more so as his marriage declined further, and this idiotic, teenager-looking loser wasn’t about to take you away from. Not that he even had you — you had acknowledged him a few weeks ago, and to him that meant everything, his heart only swelling further, practically begging for you. But, he wanted you, badly — so badly that every chance he got to talk about you, or listen to your new single’s or even the incredible album you released, he did, your name on his lips constantly.
Lisa noticed this — questioning him constantly about your affiliation. He’d reassure her, despite the ache in chest, that he hadn’t even met you in person before — that you were just two artists in the same musical category and had acknowledged one another’s talent. Nothing more, nothing less. Technically, to his dismay, it wasn’t a lie — but, he knew, a thought that constantly plagued his mind, that the way he felt about you wasn’t professional, it was full-blown infatuation.
In January 1996, Lisa-Marie filed for divorce — a bold move that Michael could sense was coming. At first, he was shocked and upset — the end of his first marriage suddenly flooding nostalgia and grief into his heart. But, as a smitten man does, he soon let his soul consume itself with relief — relief that he was finally free of what was holding him back from getting to you, and having you to himself.
Sure, he hadn’t finalised it yet — but when did that ever stop an emotionally detached man from loving another woman who wasn’t his wife?
And it wasn’t until he finally met you did his heart truly skip a real beat.
It was Elizabeth Taylor’s 64th birthday — now February 1996, and a party was now bustling at her large, elegant home. And Michael was antsy at the prospect that you were attending. He had wiped his sweat-stricken hands on his slacks around eighty times before Elizabeth picked up on his unusual behaviour.
“Honey, what is up with you?” She questioned with a giggle, pulling him to the side of the loud room, filled with music, chatted and laughter, “Everything okay? Did something happen with you-know-who?”
Elizabeth, one of Michael’s life-long friends and idols, always respected his sensitivity to certain things — especially now so he was going through a very public divorce, whilst also worried his shy self was overstimulated in the frenzied room.
“No, no,” He reassured, “That’s still being finalised. I’m just..” He paused, “I’m just nervous.”
Something he’d only ever reveal to the older lady stood before him as he swallowed thickly, eyes falling to his shoe as he mindlessly scuffed the floor.
Elizabeth smiled at his timidity, “Nervous about what, sweetie?”
Michael, now forming an obvious blush on his face, attempting miserably to suppress the bashful smile that crept into his face, turning his expression away from her to hide it.
“Is this about a lady? Oh, please, tell me it is! Is she here? Do I know her?” Elizabeth rambled, eyes flashing hopefully as she grabbed a hold of his arm, practically shaking the answer out of him.
“Yes, yes, it is, but please don’t tell anyone.” He whispered, his eyes finally meeting her own, “She’s supposed to be here, but I can’t see her anywhere. ‘S makin’ me nervous thinkin’ about when she’s gonna arrive.”
Elizabeth giggled excitedly beside him as Michael shot her a playful roll of his eyes, he knew she’d always disliked Lisa, so any new romantic interest of his, she already liked.
“Look, honey, I’m sure it’ll be fine and she’ll be here soon.” She reassured, sending him a warm smile, “You’ll have to introduce me when you talk to her, okay? I don’t even know half of these people and it’s my own party.”
Michael chuckled, “Bold of you to assume I’m gonna talk to her. I’m sweatin’ all over, probably make a fool of myself.”
“You will talk to her. It’s my birthday, you have to.”
“That’s an awful excuse, ‘Liz.”
“Hey! Don’t say tha—Oh, sweetie! Hey, come here!” Elizabeth’s excitable voice cut herself off, her eyes lighting up as they met the gaze of another guest who had just entered, her hands beckoning the mysterious person over.
Michael followed Elizabeth’s eyeline — and his eyes shot open.
There you were.
In all your enchanting glory, a beautiful smile spread across your face as you strode towards the older woman — wrapping her in a hug as she welcomed you to the party. You looked absolutely breath-taking, your outfit physically giving Michael a violent, visceral reaction as his jaw fell slack at the sight of you. Your dress was an eye-catching display of the finest jewels only a dedicated miner could obtain, shining diamonds glistening in the light, adorned with white, delicate feathers rimming the bottom hem of the dress — while also dangerously low-cut, the swell of your breasts visible to pretty much every one that was now staring at you as you walked further into the room.
If Michael thought he was sweating before — he was mistaken. The second his glinting eyes landed on your gorgeous frame, his body shuddered, a cold bead of sweat trickling down his temple, one he wiped swiftly with the back of his hand to save himself some dignity, as he let out a shaken breath he didn’t know he was holding. You were a thousand times more beautiful in person — your face dolled up to a T, hair cascading elegantly down your back, nails manicured white to match your captivating outfit as well as your stilettos that clicked against the marble flooring, and the dangerous dress hugging your curves in every way a man could dream of.
“You must meet Michael. He’s just over here.”
Elizabeth’s words hit his ears before he could even compose himself — eyes widening even further as anxiety flooded his system at the idea that he was about to finally meet you in person.
They both approached him, giggling at one another’s jokes, attention on themselves — unaware of the nervousness that consumed his whole body as you grew closer.
“Michael, this is one of the loveliest ladies I’ve ever met.” Elizabeth stated, telling him your name before continuing, “Her Mother and I were good friends back in the day. And, lovely lady, this is Michael.”
When you met his eyes, Michael swore he died and went to heaven — you locked gazes with a genuine smile tugging at your lips that his breath hitching in his throat as you extended your hand.
“Hi, Michael.” You started, in-person voice just as sweet as it had been through the television, “Finally, huh?”
“Y-Yeah,” Michael finally breathed, cursing himself as he stumbled over his words, voice cracking as he attached your hands, a jolt of unmissable electricity igniting through his body at the contact, “Been wanting to meet you for a while.”
“Likewise,” Your voice was as smooth as silk as you shook his head gently, eyes never leaving his own, your fiercely intense gaze sending exhilaration coursing through his veins, “I’m sorry to hear about you and Lisa-Marie.”
Michael smiled appreciatively as your hands dropped, the loss of connection finally allowing his heart rate to decrease slightly, “Thank you, I appreciate that. It’s been hard, but it was expected.”
“I bet you understand that a little bit, huh, honey? You and what’s-his-name just broke up, didn’t you?” Elizabeth questioned, facing you with a pointed finger as she revealed the words that sent Michael ablaze.
Fireworks of delight exploded in Michael’s chest at Elizabeth’s admission — you and that idiotic boyfriend were done. His mind instantly ran away with itself — you were both, on a technicality, single, finally free of your dead-weight partners.
“Yeah, we did.” You smiled despite your saddened news, “Much needed, though, he was a real sleaze-bag. Total bum. Literally jumped for joy the day we split up.”
“Sounds like Michael over here.” Elizabeth laughed, “I was so happy when they filed, god, she is a vulture that woman.”
“Is that so?” The way you smirked, contrasting your angelic persona with a devilish tug of your lips, looking happy that he disliked his ex-wife, had Michael flushing in heat once more — the way you were looking at him, like you were planning something evil and calculated, like a predator who just stumbled across its prey.
Michael was certain his cock had never been harder.
“Wasn’t the greatest marriage.” Michael admitted, voice soft and low, to avoid prying ears, “‘S over now.”
“I’m glad to hear it.”
He wasn’t sure whether you meant for his benefit or yours, but, he didn’t care — shooting you a sly smile as his wondering eyes raked over your frame.
“I’ll leave you to get acquainted. Thanks for coming, sweetie.” Elizabeth spoke pleasantly, squeezing your shoulder before turning on her heel and busying herself in the growing crowd beside you.
“So,” You started, a smile that could kill still plastered on your face as you peered up at him, “Am I as beautiful in person?”
Michael, almost choking on his own spit at your boldness, let his mouth fall open ever so slightly — you were so sweet and delicate for professional interviews and in front of your fans, but right now? A formidable flirt — teasing him with every word.
“Yes.” Michael spoke, all too quickly for a man trying to hide his intentions, “Really beautiful.”
You hummed, satisfied with his response, “I’m going out for a cigarette, care to join me?”
“I don’t smoke.”
“Doesn’t mean you can’t keep me company, Mr Jackson.”
The way his name fell from your lips, in a sultry, provocative tone that he didn’t miss, had him swallowing slowly, nodding, watching as your smile deepened. You took his hand in your own and turned on your heel, leading him through the crowd, not a care in the world for who staring at the pair of you — the King of Pop with America’s new popstar-sweetheart.
You lead him through the backyard, walking straight past the odd small group of people he didn’t recognise nearer to the patio doors, and towards the end of the long garden. The cold air of February whipped around you, engulfing your half-naked frame, hair swaying softly in the wind, as your hand remained a warm testament in his own — guiding him into the dark of night.
You finally stopped, reaching a large, oak bench decorating the farthest end of the backyard, near the edge of a cliff — staring out onto the gorgeous view that adorned the back of Elizabeth’s grand home. You took a seat, letting go of his trembling hand, and got comfortable. Michael, awkward as always, stood by the arm of the bench, awaiting your next move as you rustled into your purse, digging out a pack of Molboro Red’s and a baby-pink lighter. You slid one out of the packet, placing it neatly next to you, before slipping it between the plump of your lips — your lipgloss staining the white paper.
You turned your head to look at his bashful stance, eyeing him up and down as he stood oddly, looking like a kicked puppy, “Are you gonna sit?”
He obeyed as you flicked the lighter, the fluorescent burn of the orange flame lighting your face in a dim glow as you singed the end of the cigarette. Soon smoke flooded his nostrils as you took a deep inhale, holding the cigarette between your two fingers, your elbow resting on your bare thigh as you exhaled with a sigh, eyes fixated on the captivating view in front of you.
“You know smoking is really bad for the vocal cords.” Michael spoke quietly, watching as your face tugged up into a smile.
“Don’t want me to ruin my pretty voice, do’ya?”
Michael blushed for the millionth time that night — turning his face the other way as he grinned, words failing him as he hid from you.
“It’s a bad habit I haven’t been able to kick for a long time.” You admitted, “But, what celebrity doesn’t smoke these days?”
“Me.” He replied, sheepishly, smile deepening as you laughed loudly.
“Well, you are one of a kind,” You revealed, eyes finally meeting his own as you took another drag, letting silence fill the gap in the air before you questioned him, “What does Michael Jackson like to do when he’s not being the King of Pop?”
The question hit him full force — a sensation filling his body that he wasn’t sure of. He didn’t think anyone had ever asked him a question so personal, in the sincerest way, before. And not the improper, raunchy personal like the reporters did — the kind of personal where it seemed like you actually cared.
“I don’t know,” Michael breathed, his breath shaking as he exhaled, eyes fixated on the way you took a particularly long drag, and let the smoke trickle from your mouth like water as it uplifted into the dark sky, “I’m not really sure what I like these days.” He admitted wholeheartedly, the question stumping him, “Ever since me and Lisa.” He paused again, “I feel like I’ve lost myself a little bit.”
You hummed, listening intently as silence consumed you once more, as eyes flickered towards the skyline in front of you both, the bustling high-way and skyscrapers glistening brightly, a sight so beautiful it had have stunned the average person — but Michael couldn’t care less for it, his vision still full of your gorgeous frame, slightly hunched over as you smoked, making the toxic habit look gracious as the end of the cigarette ignited in glinting red and orange colours each time you took a drag.
“I get that,” You finally spoke, leaning back to meet his gaze, “That’s why I plan on not gettin’ married.”
Michael laughed, “Ever?”
“Well,” You breathed with a chuckle, “If I meet the man of my dreams, then maybe I’ll consider it.”
Michael watched you deeply — locked on the way you would smile as you talked, clearly amused by your own words.
“I’m sure that won’t be hard for you.”
You giggled, “Oh, now that was smooth. Whoever said you were shy was lyin’.”
“I am shy.” He protested, failing to his conflicting smile miserably.
“Sure, honey, the second you aired that you thought I was beautiful on live television while being married, I knew you were a smooth-talking flirt underneath.” You teased, sending him a wink.
“Oh, God, that looked real bad, didn’t it?”
“If it wasn’t me you were talkin’ about, I’d say yes. But, since the Michael Jackson thinks I’m hot shit, I’d say it was the best day of my life.”
Your unison laughter filled the space between you, shaking torsos and flashy smiles co-ordinating between you as you shared a humorous moment.
“You’re real interesting, y’know?” Michael’s voice dropped a decibel, suddenly feeling high on adrenaline at your continuing interaction, “I really didn’t expect you to be like this.”
“Good or bad?” You pressed, wetting your plump lips as you slot your long, bare leg other the other.
“Good. Definitely good,” Michael replied, “You intrigue me.”
You smile deeper, titling your head to study him — eyes dancing over the way he sat, comfortable yet awkward at the same time, like he was trying to convince you he was confident, even as his hands rested shyly on his legs, rubbing the material of his black slacks. His hair looked gorgeous as you studied him, not like his usual curls, now sleek, long black locks that rest upon his shoulders — suiting him well.
“How so?” You pressed, bringing the torched stick between your lips once more.
Michael sighed, eyes flickering away from you nervously as he searched for the words, “I don’t know, ever since I heard you singing, something just clicked inside me, I guess,” He started, “You truly have the voice of an angel, which is why I think you should put that thing out.” You laughed loudly, ignoring his request as you exhaled the smoke, “Your voice just—I don’t know, it takes a hold over me. In the strongest grasp I’ve ever felt, like you’re literally there in front of me and squeezing me like a python around its prey.” He carried on, “And now meeting you, you’ve got this intense aura around you like a divine being. You’re so carefree and confident, like this lifestyle is a walk in the park for you. I find it refreshing and therefore intriguing.” He paused before speaking his next words, “That and your beauty is other-worldly. I don’t think I’ve ever met someone with such natural femininity before. And it makes me want to figure everything out about you in one fell swoop.”
Michael, transfixed on the sight before him, distracting him from the love-sickness of his words, missed the way you stared at him in shock — mouth agape as the cigarette sizzled shorter in your hand, utterly gobsmacked at his admission of his infatuation.
He soon picked up on your silence — turning his head innocently to meet your eyes, that twinkled with desire and longing, smiling softly.
“Michael.” You breathed, voice barely above a whisper.
“Oh. I’m sorry, that sounded weird, didn’t it? I didn’t mean it that way, I just—“ “Kiss me.”
“What?”
“Kiss me, please.”
Your words took a few seconds to register in his mind, before any sense of screaming doubt in his mind was quickly evacuated as he rushed to you as you flicked the cigarette to the floor, your hands cupping one another’s face as your lips met.
Michael felt exactly like the song you had sung, the one that sent him into a besotted frenzy, as you kissed. Your lips locking in a frantic, panting connection that had you both heaving and humming into one another’s open mouths as he worked against your rosebuds.
You wasted no time — the kiss deepening as you climbed upon his lap, legs tightening around the thickness of his clothed thigh, a low groan leaving his mouth into your own at the sudden connection. His lips parted from your own frantically, his hand cupping one side of your jaw as his mouth peppered kisses sloppily against the other — hips twitching at the sound of your mewls.
“Michael, please.”
Your plea had him groaning louder than before into your skin, hips bucking up involuntarily at the sound of your quiet begging — your head thrown back to allow him access, your back arching into his touch as his free hand slipped down to cup your waist.
“Patience, baby,” He panted, “I’ve wanted to have you for so long — gonna take my sweet time with you.”
You whined — desperate for the pleasure you had been needing him from the moment you heard him nod in agreement at your beauty. Your own hips moved, beginning the hump the obvious bulge that protruded through his trousers, a lewd gasp leaving your spit covered lips as the head of his cock nudged against your clit. He moaned into the flesh of your neck as he sucked dark marks into it, hands now travelling down the small of your waist to cup your plump behind in his large palm — kneading the plushness of your ass, the feathers of your dress tickling the skin of his hand.
“Wanted you for so long too,” You suddenly admitted, panting, as his lips met the curve of your right breast, peering down at him latching onto your tits, “Loved you for too long—God, way too fucking long.”
Michael whined, a deep, guttural noise from deep within his chest at your words — an admission of your mutual yearning, his hips bucking up languidly to meet every roll of your own, drinking up every erotic noise that fell past your lips, any sense of patience now far gone.
“Take me out.” He ordered, unable to hold back anymore after the words fell from your whimpering mouth, as he pushed your dress up your body, now bunched around your waist.
Your hands moved quicker than your mind could process — fumbling with the buckle of his trousers, fingers trembling as you finally managed to get it open, lip tucked between your teeth as you shoved the tight item of clothing, along with his boxers, down his legs.
Michael huffed as his cock sprang free, the cold February air enveloping around the warmth of his manhood — but soon sighing in relief, head falling back, as the small of your hand, slicked in spit, wrapped around him.
“God, baby, just like that.” He whined, eyes squeezed shut as you pumped him fluidly, tightening each time you would enclose around the tip, his pre-cum drooling over your digits.
He was big — bigger than you had ever had, large in both length and girth, a fact that had you writhing on top of him, anticipation of the fullness he would bring to you sending shivers down your spine.
Michael, regaining some composure, lifted his head, still groaning lowly at the feeling of your tight fist around him, and pulled your panties to the side — eyebrows knitting into his forehead at the sight of your lacy G-string moulding into the shape of your drooling pussy lips.
“Fuck, you been this wet the whole time, baby?”
“Since the moment I laid eyes on you, Michael.”
Michael moaned, your hand never letting up as you jerked him, at the sound of your admission — swallowing thickly. Your hands moved with calculated precision — guiding him between your legs where you needed him most, gasping loudly at his cockend nudged against your clit.
“Tell me how badly you’ve wanted it.” You breathed, teasing him, and yourself for that matter, as you coated him with your seeping arousal, sliding him between your folds.
“God, baby—fuck, needed you since the very first time I heard your beautiful voice,” He panted, chest rising and falling quickly as his eyes locked on his dick slipping between your glistening pussy lips, “Thought about you everyday, fuck, even with her,” He couldn’t even say his ex-wife’s name as you rocked him over your throbbing clit, “You were the only woman I wanted.”
You moaned loudly at his words, his eyes a needy form of begging as they met your own — finally deciding to put an end to his pained misery, edging him towards your clenching entrance, and sinking down. Cries of relieving pleasure left both of your mouths, filling the air around you as Michael bottomed out instantly — tip kissing the sweet spot inside you from the get go, whining as your cunt struggled to stretch around him.
Michael, not wanting to let any more time spent without being inside you slip away, took a firm hold on your hips and slammed up inside you with one brutal thrust. You whimpered and writhed into his touch as the position, allowing him to claim you as deep as possible, forced his cock to kiss your cervix — leaving your back arched and lips agape as he resumed his nibbles against your neck, hips now bucking up into you at a swift pace.
The noises that left your lips were arguably more melodically breath-taking than any song you’d ever sang — his name falling from your mouth like a prayer, eyes rolled to the back of your head and clinging to his shoulders was truly a sight to see, forcing his cock to twitch violently inside you.
“Oh, fuck, Michael.” You whined, nails digging into the skin of his back, as a harsh thrust had you seeing stars, “God, you feel so good—so big.”
Michael’s ego inflated at your whimpered admission, huffing out a large breath as he continued his brutal assault on your pussy, revelling in the way your cunt, now forming a milky-white, frothy ring around his base, spasmed aggressively around him — low groans of his own muffled against your skin.
“You’re all I’ve ever wanted, baby,” Michael revealed, his breath warm against the shell of your ear, his grip on your hips tightening as his pace never faltered, “I’m so in love with you.”
Some may say it was love-bombing and wrong the way he confessed his love to you after only meeting you in person a mere few hours ago — but the way you tightened around him and cried out so loudly that Michael had to muffled your screams with his mouth, the enticing taste of cigarette’s still on your tongue, put any of those thoughts to shame.
It was exhilarating.
Knowing the feelings that were nestled deep inside your body for so long, your ferocious, undeniable love for him, were reciprocated was enough to have you on the brink of orgasming from just his words.
“Deeper—oh, fuck, baby, I love you too—need y’deeper, please!” You cried, mumbling against his lips, drowning in the noises he fed you.
You gasped as he stood abruptly, holding you tightly underneath the plush of your ass, and placing you swiftly, albeit gently, atop of the bench — the cold of the wood in the winter’s air pressing flush against your bare back.
Michael, forcing your legs to your chest in a brutal mating press, slammed back into you with all the strength he had to give — cock now driving the deepest it had been all night as he draped your hovering legs over his shoulders. Your tits, now spilling from your dress, were latched into his mouth — tongue swirling around your erect nipple, as his free hand trailed between your body, toying with your swollen clit, eliciting the neediest, most eager whines from your mouth at the dual stimulation.
“Gonna cum, Mikey!”
Your high-pitched warning hit his ears as he groaned against your nipples, the vibration only furthering your overwhelming pleasure as your orgasm smacked into you — your back arched into a beautiful curve, Michael’s hand, mouth and cock never stopping their attack on your body, fucking you through your release as you squirmed beneath him. The blinding arousal that seeped through your body like blood pumping through your veins had you seeing stars — whining like a bitch in heat whilst your cunt clenched tightly around him.
“God, y’gonna make me cum so quick, baby.” Michael panted, his stuttering as he neared his own release.
Just as you came down from your high — Michael pulled out suddenly. Your eyebrows forced themselves into the crease of your forehead as you studied his actions as his hand wrapped around his length. He moved to straddle either side of your shoulders, cock now inches from your face as he jerked himself in front of your face, chest heaving.
“Open your mouth, pretty.” He ordered, lip coming between his teeth as he watched you loll your tongue out, awaiting his pleasured essence.
Michael leant down, slotting his cock into your mouth, whining as your pretty lips wrapped around his length, suckling the tip, hand moving to grip at the meat of his thighs.
Michael came, not with a groan, but with words that had your cunt, stricken with your post-orgasm slick, clenching around nothing,
“Yeah, ‘m gonna fill this angelic throat,” He started, panting as the first spurt of his seed landed on your eager tongue, “Want those pretty vocal chords coated with my cum so you can only sing so heavenly knowing I painted your beautiful voice box white. So you can bless the world with that voice knowing it belongs to me.”
You moaned loudly around him as he finally let out a delighted groan — head thrown back as his cum flooded the throat he had just claimed, the bittersweet taste of his arousal settling on your tastebuds as you lapped at the underside of his cock, tracing the vein that throbbed underneath, with your tongue.
Michael, crouched over you, one hand wrapped around the base of his cock, while the other gripped the back of the bench so hard his knuckles had flushed white — finally let his hips stutter for the last time before slipping his softening cock from your mouth.
You sat up as he lurched back against the arm of the bench, panting heavily, attempting to catch his breath, his flaccid cock laying gently against his thigh. You too, heaved, eyes fixated on his furrowed eyebrows, completely transfixed on his post-orgasm beauty.
Michael, finally opening his eyes that were squeezed shut, met your intense gaze for that countless time that night — a dazed smile creeping up on his face to mirror your own before you spoke flirtatiously, just as you had the whole night,
I’m so glad this community is waking Tf up about the parasocial behaviour that’s been going on, you’re all as bad as those who treated Michael poorly. Quit pretending to be these virtuous people because you’re not.
I need everyone to take a step BACK and realise that a lot of your behaviour has been genuinely insane, let’s start off with jaafar and maddie, the way you two treat this couple is fucking wild, the concern trolling and virtue signaling is out of this world, A LOT of you don’t care about maddies past posts supporting Israel, a lot of you are simply jealous over the fact she’s with jaafar, it’s blatant by the fact all you lot talk about IS the relationship and her appearance and how you don’t get how they’ve been together for so long and aren’t married. The infantilisation of jaafar is also wild, he’s not some poor little boy who isn’t aware of what’s going on around him, Quit acting like he is.
Now with jermajesty and Randy jr, the fact that two days ago you lot were basically jumping these man’s leg like a bunch of horny dogs and now bc they(liked a post????) you’re cancelling them?Are we fucking mad? 😭 it’s insane, so what they liked a post??
This is how ik that as a society we need to hop off the internet because we are too quick to sensationalise and then cancel someone within days.
y’all pls don’t ask me to do a jaafar fic where he is cheating on maddie bc I think it’s weird. people really can take the fact that their celebrity crushes are in a relationship. jaafar doesn’t know you exist and that’s a tough pill to swallow for some folks but, hey. I know it’s fiction and everything but it just feels weird to make a fanfic that hates on someone’s partner, especially a women in general, and don’t use her beliefs as leverage to be weird and hateful towards her, bc her beliefs doesn’t have anything to do with her marriage.
i feel like people get too caught up in their own fantasy of jaafar being “their man” that it gets too much. don’t be too imbedded in people’s lives, at the end of the day jaafar and maddie are HUMANS, not a weird fantasy in your brain.
and it’s overly weird that some people are plotting on their marriage, like “they’ve been engaged for so long” “they’re not gonna last” like that’s their business boo boo!
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genre(s) - one-shot, lesbian erotica, age-gap, established relationship
description - baran has to deal with being away from you for a little bit. the two of you missing each other, you decide to fix that problem; showing off your new tattoo and new pretty undergarments. teasing your girlfriend more than you should.
warning(s) - profanity, mutual masturbation, implied age gap, vibrator usage, nipple/breast play, pet names (baby, pretty girl, good girl), teasing, praise kink, dirty talk. 18+ only, minors & men dni.
word count - 1.5k
my letter - song: touch myself by kwn
rules | the pitt | taglist
BARAN’S CURSOR CLICKS ON the accept button, her left fingers resting on her bottom lip while her back pressed somewhat against the headboard. The sheets lie low against her laced black bra; she fixes her hair a little as you slowly appear on screen. She smiles at the sight of you, lying comfortably on your stomach in the middle of your shared bed.
You have on a new black bra with pink peaking through, your black lace thong showing as your legs stay up.
Your black Louboutins glint in the light, catching her attention. Baran’s eyes move down from your heels to your body, then back to your face.
You were sin galore to her.
You smirk and lean on your left side, allowing Baran to get a good look at you. “Hi, baby.” You tease, your eyes gleaming at the sight of her.
Baran’s lips curve into a smile before she giggles, “How’s my pretty girl doing?” Her tone is smooth like honey, drizzling all over your skin and down to your pussy.
Resting your hand on your thigh, your fingertips rub up and down your hipbone, making sure her eyes recognize that.
“I could be better, need you here, in bed with me.” You complain, Baran licks her bottom lip and laughs again. “I miss you more, miss your scent, your smile, your lips, your thighs squeezing every inch of my body.” She whispers the last part, you hum and hook the hem of your thong, stretching it up.
Baran shakes her head while biting her bottom lip.
“Think I miss you more, baby. This bed is so lonely without you.” You sigh and stretch yourself on the bed, purposely making the thong slide down a little.
Baran gulps and rubs her lips, missing the way she stuffed her face against your pussy. The tip of her tongue curling up in your hole as her lips suck hard over your folds. She missed her favorite meal so much.
Her eyes squint as her brows furrow, seeing the black ink on your skin. “Wait.” She pauses, you look at it in the camera, and giggle.
Pushing your hip back and forth as you laugh again.
“You see it now?” You question, and your index finger rubs it gently.
Baran nods, “Fuck, baby, when did you get it done? It looks so sexy on you.” She whispers, her breath shortening as she stares at it longer.
“A week ago, honestly, it was kinda impulsive. I mean, I did always want a tattoo, you know that, but I guess placement-wise, I wasn’t sure.” You shrug, and Baran bites her lip, still staring at the tattoo, her body feeling hot from the sight.
“Perfect place to put it.” She whispers, reading off the ‘bite me’ words and imagining herself tracing her fingers over the tattoo as she fucks you with her strap.
You smile wider and drag your thong further down to your knees, keeping it there.
Baran moves her fingers to her bra straps, letting one drop to her arm, her breast ready to spill out of her bra.
“So, how’s California treating you?” You ask, ignoring the small whimpers that leave her mouth as you make your thong reach to your heels, letting it get somewhat tangled against it before taking it off and tossing it on the ground.
Baran’s heart races as her hands move her bra strap off fully, turning the bra around to see the hooks better. She takes it off and places it beside her on the bed. “It’s been good, would be so much better with you here. Missed waking you up with my kisses.” Baran licks her lips as you sit facing the computer, your back pressing the headboard, as your pillow has been pushed against the back of your waist.
Your legs had been spread open, and your knees pushed up to the sides of your stomach, your stretch marks showing better. The glisten on your pussy appears on camera as your fingers go over to your clit, tapping on it before your middle finger rubs it slowly.
Clearing her throat, she sighs and watches you while bringing her fingers up to her nipples, squeezing and twisting them a little.
“You’ve been such a bad, bad girl for me, baby.” Baran breathily states, her eyes widen a little at the way you insert your ring and middle finger in your dripping cunt. Your lips pressed against your curled fingers as you pump them inside you.
You whimper and sigh, biting your bottom lip as you groan. “Yeah?” You let out, still going.
Baran licks her lips and nods, “Yeah.” Eyes staring at the way you keep your fingers curved, stretching yourself out.
“Slow down, baby, need to see that pretty pussy aching.” She whispers while teasing her nipples, her cunt dripping for attention.
You whine and slow your thrusts, your soft walls squeezing your fingers for more.
You watch as Baran places her computer at the end of the bed, coming out from under the sheets, she’s now only in her panties, looking so beautiful in the way they ride up on her ass.
Turning her body to the left, Baran opens the bedside drawer and pulls her vibrator out, checking the charge.
You smile while your thumb flicks at your clit a little. You let out whimpers and stare at Baran as she takes her panties off and keeps her legs open in front of the camera, mirroring your position.
The low sounds of her vibrator being turned on make her cunt pulsate hard as her mouth salivates at the sight of you and her.
“Need your pretty body so bad, baby, look at what you do to me.” Baran moans as she places her vibrator against her folds, brushing it up to her clit and squirming a little. “Fuck.” You both say in unison.
Whines take over from both of you as you slide your fingers back in and out of your twitched pussy.
“Baran, baby.” You whine and lean your head back, your fingers hit your g-spot, and your legs begin to shake.
Baran moans and sighs as she pushes her vibrator against her pussy, visualizing your lips sucking her folds like the good girl you are.
“That’s it, pretty girl, like that, touch yourself just like that.” She pants out, and her free hand grabs her breast, squeezing it.
“Mngh– so cl-close.” You stutter out, thrusting deeper into yourself. Baran closes her eyes and breathes out heavily.
“That’s okay, baby, I’m right here.” She gasps, driving her vibrator up and down, her arousal soaking the device and bedsheets.
You roll your hips up, and Baran does the same, moaning at the same time as you. “Shit, that was sexy.” She chuckles, sweat appearing on her forehead.
You open your eyes and look at her, seeing the way she keeps pushing her hips up, her pussy soaked.
You nod and swallow down your saliva hard. “Yeah.” You let out breathlessly.
“Look at yourself in the camera, see how pretty you are.” Baran coos, her tone making your legs shake, almost closing. “Yeah.” Being the only word you can get out.
The built-up feeling in your stomach comes back, harder now. “Shit, Baran.” You whine and ride your fingers out.
The ache in them became stronger, but you were so close.
She sees it in your face, Baran nods and lazily rubs her vibrator over her clit. “Such a good girl for me, look at you, all fucked out.”
You squeal as you pull your fingers out, only to shove them back in, mimicking Baran’s thrusts. You weep out moans and whimpers, Baran’s eyes darker at the sight as her body jerks forward many times.
You’re covered in sweat as you do one last thrust into yourself, your cum spilling out from your pretty pussy. Your fingers are covered, and so are the bedsheets.
Baran squirms and squeezes her legs at the sight. “Oh fuck!” She moans and rides her vibrator.
“Shit, baby, you make me feel so good.” Baran moans out as she orgasms, her pace getting slower. Your fingers still deep inside your hole, you lay your head against the headboard.
Your eyes stare at the ceiling, finally reaching the peak you’ve been dreaming about ever since Baran left.
Baran slows down and looks at you, admiring the way your cum spills out of you. Wishing she could suck it up and tongue it back into your hole.
“Damn.” She says breathlessly. You blink a couple of times and look back at her on the computer.
You laugh with her and sigh. Seeing the way her cum covers her, her clit swollen, deserving of being sucked at.
“So beautiful, so so beautiful. I can’t wait to get home.” Baran rasps, and you smile shyly.
“Me too, we should do more of this.” You state, covering yourself with the bedsheets, feeling cold now. Baran nods and licks her lips, “Promise, we definitely will in the near future.” You laugh with her and blow her a kiss.
“Later, baby.” You respond, and she blows you a kiss back. “Love you.” Baran finishes and ends the call.
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