Glitter Gloss

We just saw a Black African-American teen die, who was the only black person amongst your kind. Why is it always that way??You know AAVE but you don’t know the struggles and consequences that come behind being BLACK!! It’s irritating!!!!

Recently, Britain specifically has been threatening to deny visas to people who are requesting reparations for all the DAMAGE they’ve caused!!! How crazy is that! They literally RAPED the Caribbean of everything, brought their diseases, and dipped. You guys are literally EVERYWHERE!!! Let us black people have something for ourselves for once!!! Also, nothing is wrong with people of all colours races etc writing for a person of a specific race (At least I don't think so) it’s the way you went about it!!! And you’ve had your account for months and not ONCE did you think to clear that up???

Be fr who looked at your account and said wow that must be because her hair is black or whatever tf your hair colour is???? You telling me you couldn’t use the base name for a hair colour?? Brunette? Something???? You tying yourself up in a big long rope of lies and deception!!!! The more you say stuff, the more I’m getting pissed off because it’s a bunch of bs, and I know you know it’s a bunch of bs!!!! That’s what’s irritating!!! What are you getting out of this???? You showing your friends oh look how I got all these black people COONING over me???? You were giddy from behind your screen looking like a Quaker. We just didn’t know it yet. We’ve, well I’ve been giving you unnecessary power without even knowing it😭

I had my own experience with you that turned me ALLL the way off. I knew something was off with your ass from that point on. Such a shame you had to be a popular blog. I really loved your work. But you're just another one of them. I was just hoping and praying the day came when everyone saw your fake ass like I did. And all those coons running to your rescue are a BIG part of society’s problem and why this shit will NEVER END. The more they save your fraudulent, condescending ass, the more years each one of them is setting us back. Let me let y'all know something, all this running around and kissing white people's ass? Yeah? They'll NEVER return the favour!! You're gonna be waiting like a lovesick puppy looking stuck on stupid!

No matter if you like being black or not they only see colour!(the one thing they say that they don't see which is yet again, bs.) They saw colour when they made separate bathrooms, they saw colour when they wouldn't allow black people to enter certain establishments! Oh they saw colour THEN! South Africa anyone? Segregation? The fact that you needed an ID to get into a community, and if you were black on the white side of town, you were arrested and received harsh treatment?? Sharpeville Massacre? Steve Biko was one of the main leaders of that movement, putting his life on the line for us!! Y'all started this shit, and it's gonna keep going, unfortunately. It's so great, you can be black here, deceiving all your homegirls with your TikTok slang and use of AAVE, then log off and be a white woman! That duality must have been amazing! Shame we can't all do that!! If you don't see colour, then you don't see me! Simple as that.

You can never win when you play dirty. You can NEVER. WIN.

Pairing: Michael x sister's best friend! reader

Era: BAD

Warnings: p in v smut, reader being a slut for her man, forbidden if you make it, jealousy, use of profanity, electric eyes in the audience, not proofread!

Synopsis: You are Latoya's best friend, and Michael is seeing you on the down low. You're at an event, and someone starts getting too friendly. It's really post-event. Let's just say Michael wasn't amused, not in the slightest.

Wc: 2k

A/n: This is basically a re-upload. I submitted this as an ask on one of my mutuals' blogs around two months ago. Ik its bad, just nod and smile, please😭🙏🏼

Imagine bad! era (yes it’s my favourite and I’m not gonna be quiet about it!) and he’s interested in you but you’re friends with Latoya (I love all the sisters I just picked Latoya she’s so adorable) You found him attractive but you didn’t think he felt the same. he doesn’t really want to cross the line but he’s interested and goes behind his sister’s back and starts talking to you! It blossoms!

Soon your aching needy flower was blossoming just by the sight of him. Backstage, hotel rooms, his house…. Anywhere you guys could fuck passionately in private he took the liberty of doing so. You both got off on the thrill of not being caught and being a complete secret. When you both are in public no one has any idea that he just catapulted deep within you with his thick veiny long cock till you saw stars the night before.

Bad! era Michael who is seeing you privately and not exclusively official in public but gets mad when he sees other men getting too familiar with you, and you being friendly back in turn. He fights to keep his face pleasant and unbothered but his insides are on fire. His cock straining through his pants with need to put you back in your place when you leave the event.

In the backseat of the expensive sleek car heading back to his place, he’s rubbing your pink plushy cunt through the fabric, making you whimper and throb. Looking right at you even when your eyes were all over, the bliss coming from the pleasure you were eliciting from his skillful callous hands. He kept at it until you were almost at the climax, then suddenly pulled away. Leaving you frustrated and annoyed.

“You listen to me, you’re gonna hold it until we get home. I don’t care how you do it. Don’t you cum.” He stated. “You couldn’t hold off talking to Mr. Nobody, well you better hold off on this.” He said bitterly.

You finally get to his house, which he then acknowledges the house staff in his sweet demeanour but ready to get you upstairs. As the door of his bedroom closes behind you, he instantly attacks your lips.

“Need to get you out of this dress baby” he says as he hurriedly zips it down, leaving you in your purple with black lace lingerie set, accentuating your curves and beautiful brown skin that lay underneath. He eyes you down. Does his iconic lip bite as he shamelessly drinks you in like a tall glass of apple juice.

“Aw did you plan for me baby? I hope your boyfriend didn’t know you had this on” He sarcastically says as he admires you.”

“Baby I-”

“Shhhhh baby I get it. You thought you could advertise yourself because we’re not known as a couple out there? I get it. I do, truly. And now you’re gonna pay for it.” He says to you menacingly.

He goes to sit in the chair in the corner of the room, watching you under the ceiling lights that illuminate your beauty, your hair in curls that you chose as your style for the evening, your beautiful skin that shone with cocoa butter and body shimmer, the feline cat eye makeup and your plump shaped lips coated with praline lip liner and a rosy, butter almond lipstick combo.

“The louboutins stay on.” He said from the dimly lit, almost dark corner. His eyes were dark and filled with lust. His strain on full display through his pants. Eyeing you down like a prey. Your black curls bouncing as you radiate under the ceiling lights with excitement, and fear under the ceiling lights as you look up at the mirror.

“You’re gonna get off the bed and crawl to me.” He said watching you closely. In turn you glided off the bed, getting on your knees and crawling seductively to him, swinging from side to side giving him the best view you could, or thought you were.

“Mmmhhm princess, I love that colour on you.” He compliments you as you near him. “Do you crawl like this for your other suitors? Or just me?” He says with a sarcastic tone which earns an incredulous expression from you as you feign innocence.

“I’m only on my knees for one man baby, and he’s sitting right in front of me.”

When you reach him he points to the red light in the other corner, perfectly angled. “Say hi to the camera, doll.” You follow where his finger is pointed and shocked isn’t even the word.

Yet you were aroused and gave a shy “hi” waving your perfectly manicured fingers to the professional piece of equipment which lay on a piece of furniture, capturing you both perfectly.

He smirked up at you and held out a hand for you to grab. “Come sit my lap, princess.” You then carefully got up taking his hand and lay in his lap. Seeing the wet spot of pre-cum that he was accumulating. He tapped either side of your legs as he spread them open, taking in the treasure that was your cunt. The spots of wetness from your own arousal building, accompanied by the way he’s been handling you all night, had you slick beyond just slick.

“Such a pretty sight, mama.” He said biting his lip, making a low groan as he admired your dripping pussy. He then reached his hand below and fingered you with those oh so amazing hands that command a stage.

You’ve seen both his stage performances and his music videos, or short films, countless of times, even behind the scenes since you were friends with Latoya and you basically hung around the whole family. They were wonderful to you. All those times you wondered if he could skillfully strum your pussy just like he did in those instances. And you were right.

You moaned as he placed a couple digits over your lingerie-clad cunt, swollen and needy for his touch. “Mhmmm! Baby!” You exclaimed as you feel the pleasure that’s being bestowed upon from his hands.

“Mhm? Baby what? Speak up dollface. You know how this goes.” He says, challenging you to communicate effectively during his assault on your folds. You were enjoying it too much to even respond. He kept going at it. You were stuck between looking at him and the camera, the occasional moan and yelp leaving your mouth.

“Go- go deeper please!” You exclaimed, grinding your hips against his fingers. Your mind was spinning and the only thing you could focus on was his finger working your core to no end.

He then lifted you some to remove your panties so he could get better access. After doing that he grabbed you by the waist and pulled you back into his lap, which he then continued, plunged his fingers further into you.

“Oh princess, you needed me didn’t you? I know you did.” He says as you near your climax and your swollen throbbing pussy starts making sounds reminiscent of mac and cheese being stirred. You feel something snap and your climax reaches as you leak all over his hands and you grab his arms, coming down from your high. He reached his hands to your lips and let you taste yourself which he does after.

“I’ll never get over how good you taste doll. It’s my favourite. I’m the only one that gets to taste you. Don’t forget it.”

“Get back on your knees.” He says to you darkly as he drinks in the site some more. You then carefully get back on your knees, sitting pretty before him, wispy eyelashes blinking up at him behind your doe eyes and your ballerina louboutins that he got you “just because” lay pretty on your pedicured feet as you wait on him to further instruct you.

He grabs you by the chin forcing you to look up at him. Wow he was even better in person. “Open.” You did just that, giving him a full view of your mouth, eagerly anticipating what he had planned.

He then reached over and spit in your mouth, the act turning you on. “Swallow.” He then says to you with no emotions. You do so which in turn he gave you a small menacing smile. “Good girl.” He relayed back to you.

You then tried to relieve yourself by rubbing your slick folds on the Persian rug beneath you. The sensation of the friction overtaking you and your needy pussy throbbed against the expensive carpet. The combination of pain and pleasure while watching him rub his cock and being filmed had you over the edge.

“My dirty girl. Couldn’t wait for me so you fuck yourself on the carpet?” He lets out a pathetic laugh. “God you’re so beautiful, my dirty little princess, You need me don’t you?”

You then nod your head vigorously. “Use your words, baby.” He says to you.

You continued sucking and pulling from his cock, hollowing out your cheeks earning the occasional moan or grunt from him. Alternated between licking his balls and going back to penetrating him long thick member with your mouth. Running your tongue tongue along the veins, almost memorizing the path that each takes.

You end up being pinned on the bed as he mercilessly pounds into you. Doesn’t matter how many times you’ve had sex, you’re still not used to his size, which he’s very cocky about. “Take deep breaths baby, make way for me princess.” He chides you as you struggle to adjust.

“But baby it- it’s too much!” He continues to deepen himself within you, touching your cervix and speeding up his pace.

“Shh baby you can take it, just be my good girl and take all of me.”

“Look up dollface” he says to you in the heat of passion. You look up to the ceiling mirror to find a distressed, dick-drunk version of yourself. Curls all over your face, lips swollen and messy with him cum, heels still on as he holds your legs wide open, fucking you deep and hard. You moan at the site. At this point you forgot about the camera. You were just focused on how hard your cunt was being pounded on by his cock. You looked between the two of you, watching as his cock glistened under the lights with your juices. The noises were explicit and gushy. He was close but made sure you came first. When you did, he was almost there.

He soon came after, filling you up to the brim with his hot cum. The feeling had you blissed out. You kept your legs closed around him to milk him of everything he was offering.

“You look so pretty like this baby, my cum leaking from you, I’ll never get tired of seeing this.”

"You had fun flaunting your little boy toy in my face? You know better."

“You know what we have baby, you know I’m yours mama” He says as he continue pounding into you. Cumming inside you again, he finally collapses beside you on the spacious bed.

He looks you in the eyes, admiring your face. “My pretty baby.” He fawns over you. “You’re mine. Don’t you ever forget it.”

Suddenly you remember about the camera as you sit there wrapped within the 1000 count goose down sheets. “Baby?” You nudge him as he gets lost in his thoughts, maybe overthinking some amazing performance he did, thinking it wasn’t good enough, and how he could push himself more. Damn perfectionist.

“Yes doll?” He answers you almost immediately, ready to do whatever.

“The camera.” You say to him, calm and glowing from the blissful encounter. He peers over and looks back at you.

“Oh sorry!” He says smiling. Going on the other side of the room, he grabs it and brings it back over to the bed. Placing both you and him in the frame.

“Tell em what you you’re really like dollface. You’re my personal little playboy bunny” he says boldly.

You audibly gasp and hide your face in the pillow hiding your laugh. You reach back up looking at him, his beautiful smile causing your smile to spread. He was the epitome of perfection both in looks and personality. How could he ever be insecure?

“Tell em what YOU just did angelface!” Throwing back the sweet innocent nickname back at him. You both laughing and going back and forth, then your eyes really pause on one another and you reach in for a kiss, cutting the camera off with you two laughing afterwards.

“Ain’t nobody’s business but me and my baby's."

How our (yes, our) conscience starts eating us up at night because our bestie Latoya STILL doesn't know that we’re fucking her brother behind her back‼️😔 #gotmetrembling💔💔

video credit: szapoop on TikTok

Aftershow note!: Remember if you didn’t like it just close your eyes and imagine you’re on the creek! When you get to mi tia’s house you can go off!! Love 🩷❤️🩷

Taglist: @prettyangeliczz @glossedupdollxx

© 2026 smoothcriminalgf

All Rights Reserved.

This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Pairing: Michael Jackson x female reader

Era: Bad

Warnings: Apart from the fact that idk wtf it is that I'm doing, hurt feelings, cheating, slight violence, use of profanities, some smut, idk chile.

Wc: 4k (my bad)

Synopsis: Michael has a new assistant, what will you do when she slowly starts pushing you out of the picture?

A/n: Yes, I wrote this from top to bottom and proofread it. I’m not going to post a rough draft with a plethora of grammatical errors and humiliate myself in the process to prove that I didn’t use AI. And plus, AI can’t give you this ok? Also this is my first time ever doing this! Feedback is appreciated🩷❤️🩷❤️

No part of this work may be copied, reposted, redistributed, or adapted in any form. This includes uploading or using the content in AI systems, training models, or automated tools without permission.

It all started with him and that damn fake nerd bitch. Always too polished, her voice always too high-pitched and perfect—so perfect it made you want to pull your own hair out by the roots. Why was she everywhere? Why was she always so near, so carefully woven into the tapestry of your life?

You had no idea.

But you knew that her little innocent, goody-two-shoes, girl-from-the-suburbs act was all bullshit. You just couldn’t prove it.

For now, it was nothing more than assumptions and paranoia on your end.

You’d been a part of his family since 1980. You were familiar with everyone, including his brothers. (ANDDDD we know y’all’s lame asses couldn’t even play Twister, okay???? We know! Aht, aht, aht!! Don’t interrupt me! Don’t feel sorry now. Yeah, Jackie, your fine ass got ran over because you cheated with who??? The 80s version of J.Lo??? It wasn’t no accident—quit stuttering and lying. 😭)

The point is, you were around long enough to know all of their personalities.

Including his.

Thoroughly.

He was in the process of finishing up his album, going back and forth with Quincy over which songs deserved a spot and which ones didn’t. Their creative differences were making the process more difficult than ever.

“Q, just listen. This one’s more upbeat, way different from the others! I’ve gone over it a thousand times, and I think it deserves a spot on the album!” he exclaimed, gesturing wildly from inside the studio. Through the glass, he clutched a notebook filled with carefully and thoughtfully written lyrics.

“We’ve also had this conversation a thousand times,” Quincy replied from his spot in front of the soundboard, his tone carrying more than a hint of irritation. “And I’m gonna tell you the same thing I’ve been telling you every time. All those songs can’t go on there. We have to scale it down to about eleven or twelve. It just won’t work, man.”

“But I want them on there! They all sound great. The sounds, the vision, the life they bring to this album—it’s undeniable! I’ve spent nights staying up late to get every single one right. They gotta go on there, man.”

His shoulders slumped as he threw his hands down in defeat, nearly dropping the notebook in the process.

“Listen, let’s just table this for now. We have—”

The studio phone rang, cutting Quincy off mid-sentence.

—

You’d shown up at the front desk of Westlake Studios.

Michael was usually pretty straightforward with you. The two of you knew each other’s schedules down to a T… unless he was in one of those moods where he didn’t want to see anybody at all. (Even me? Reallyyyy? I cook, I fuck you good and—okay, yeah, I see you. 😒)

Even when he wasn’t technically busy, he’d spend every spare moment obsessing over the same melody or chorus, running himself into the ground trying to perfect something that already sounded perfect to everyone else.

Just not to him.

“Just a minute… hello?”

He answered quickly.

It was the front desk calling to ask whether he could see you any time soon. You already knew the answer before she even finished asking. Michael was a workaholic. You wouldn’t have been surprised if your request got turned down.

Life with the world’s greatest entertainer.

Those were some big shoes to fill.

“Yes… okay. Please let her know that Michael’s hands are pretty full at the moment and he won’t be able to see her. Serious business, you know how it is. Money’s not gonna wait around for us, and neither is the time it’s gonna take to finish this album.”

“Y-yes… okay. I’ll let her know.”

She hung up before looking at you with a sympathetic smile.

You knew that look all too well.

“I’m sorry, honey, but he’s busy. You know how Quincy is. I can’t overrule anything he says.”

She leaned in a little closer, lowering her voice.

“This is my only job. I can’t afford to mess this up.”

Her doe eyes made you feel for her.

You understood completely.

“No, it’s fine! You’re only doing your job.” You offered her a reassuring smile. “I’ll just come back later. Hopefully there’ll be a more hopeful update.”

“Hopefully.”

She laughed nervously before returning your smile.

You tapped your keys lightly against the marble counter, turned on your heel, and sauntered back to your car.

—

By the time you returned, it was already ten o’clock.

A little too late to be driving around, but you’d given them a few more hours.

You stopped in front of the reception desk, brushing a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

“Hi, Patti! Did you miss me? ‘Cause I’ve sureeeeely missed you.”

The sarcasm practically dripped from your voice.

It wasn’t like you’d been gone for days.

You’d been there this afternoon.

Not last year.

She laughed.

“Hi, honey! Isn’t it a bit late for you to be out? Especially driving by yourself?”

“Oh, no. I’m just fine.”

“Would you like me to connect you to the studio?”

“Please do. I’m holding out for that hopeful update now more than ever.”

“Give me just a moment.”

You watched as she dialed a few numbers before placing the receiver to her ear.

A few seconds later, she smiled and held the phone out to you.

“Here you are.”

“Thank you.”

You accepted the receiver.

“Mr. Jones! Haven’t you reached your Grammy Award-winning quota for the day? Or did we get an early start on the tour? It sure seems like it.”

“Sweetheart, you know how it is—”

“You’re telling me.”

You laughed. It wasn’t a “you’re funny” kind of laugh. It was a “I’m not playing with you right now, so don’t play with me right now either.” Kind of laugh. An irritated laugh. All of the above.

A brief silence settled over the line.

Then…

A woman’s laugh.

Definitely not Jennifer. (that woman with the guitar he got down with on stage for Dirty Diana 😭 The way he swiped through her mullet with his hand I never wanted to be a mullet so bad in my life😭)I did not say that just keep reading‼️‼️

“Angelface, you’re so cute when you’re focused! It’s one of my favorite things about you!”

You’d recognize that voice anywhere.

Was that bitch serious?

Angelface?

What part of “professionalism” did she not understand?

🦋 TIME FREEZE 🦋

(You’re standing there with the receiver pressed to your ear, fingers tightly wrapped around the coiled phone cord.)

You’d wanted to choke the hell out of her ever since her second week on the job.

“You’re one of the most beautiful men I’ve ever laid eyes on.”

“You know you can talk to me, right?”

“I understand you more than anyone. I’m your assistant, after all. Isn’t that right, Mr. Jackson?”

Always in that sickeningly sweet, syrupy voice you absolutely hated.

🦋 UNFREEZE 🦋

“Bakestress?”

Quincy’s voice snapped you back to reality.

“Did you go cold on me? You daydreaming about baking something again?”

He laughed.

That was one of his nicknames for you.

Cooking had always been your thing, and Michael, Quincy, and the rest of the crew had become regular victims of your homemade desserts. What started as bringing snacks to one late-night session had somehow evolved into an unspoken tradition.

Truthfully…

Hearing Quincy call you “Bakestress” softened your mood just a little.

Just enough.

Your death grip on the marble counter loosened.

You even laughed.

A small one.

But it was necessary.

“While I love being in the kitchen,” you replied, “my mind was somewhere else.”

You absentmindedly admired your manicure while speaking.

“I was actually wondering when a certain someone was gonna be finished… so that certain someone could take me home and…” You smiled to yourself. “…hone his other skills.”

“You never fail to surprise me.”

You could practically hear the smile behind his words. You could see his dimples too.

“It shouldn’t. You know me well by now, Q.”

“I do.”

“Listen… I just wanted to see how he was doing and whether he was free. I think I’ve gotten my answer.”

A small sigh escaped you.

“Thank you, Quincy. Good night.”

You handed the phone back to Patti.

“Thank you.”

With one last smile, you headed back out to your car.

The drive home was quiet.

Too quiet.

All you could think about was the very—very—real possibility that his little assistant was sleeping with him.

No…

He wouldn’t do that.

Wouldn’t do that to me.

Years beside this man.

Holding him down.

Standing by him through his father’s control, through the fight for creative freedom, through the tours he couldn’t do, the Pepsi accident, the endless criticism from the media, the people insisting he was detached from reality.

Even your own family had believed it…

Until they met him.

You defended him.

Supported him.

Loved him.

All of that…

Just to lose him to some ditzy bitch he’d only known for a few months.

Oh, but those couple of months? Yeah, they had to be some of your worst.

She not only worked as his assistant, but she had completely taken over your life.

If he needed his apple juice, you were always on top of it.

His pain meds, making sure he took them in the right dosage? You were there.

Late-night discussions—it could be about anything. His day. Your day. Society. The press. Your families. Traditions. Marriage. Children.

You were there.

Creating a safe space for him to open up and express himself freely. The occasional crying session here and there, wiping his tears and giving him words of encouragement. Giving him massages all over, mainly for stress relief or to ease the pains and aches from constantly dancing.

Or anything.

He was yours.

You could do it simply because you felt like it.

Nonstop.

You.

Were.

There.

It was too much of a coincidence.

Your hands were tightly clenched around the steering wheel, your mind racing with a thousand thoughts, when, as if on cue, “I’ll Be There” by the Jackson 5 started playing.

You had never switched a station sooo quickly.

That song was such a tearjerker for you.

Given the situation, you looked at the meaning of the song very differently tonight.

One station after another.

He was on every single one.

What the fuck.

Could you complain?

No.

You were dating MICHAEL FUCKING JACKSON, FOR GOD’S SAKE.

It was bound to happen.

With a defeated sigh, you simply turned off the radio and continued your drive home.

—

You were so caught up in your thoughts that you hadn’t even realized you’d made it home already.

The sole reason you got back safely was muscle memory.

Thank God for it.

The way your mind was spiraling, you probably would’ve driven straight out of the state and into another without even realizing it.

You climbed out of the car and locked it behind you.

Making your way to the front door, you swung your bag around and searched for your keys.

Once you found them, you unlocked the door, stepped inside, and locked it again behind you.

You made your way to your room, winding down for the night. After taking a quick bath, moisturizing, and slipping beneath the sheets, you quietly drifted off to sleep.

1:00 a.m.

He quietly let himself into the house. It was late, and the last thing he wanted was to disturb you.

A moment later, a faint scuffle near the front door stirred you from your sleep.

You were awake.

Well… somewhat.

Instead of moving, you stayed perfectly still and listened.

He gently pushed open the slightly ajar bedroom door.

There you were.

Fast asleep.

A small smile spread across his face as he leaned down and pressed a soft kiss against your cheek.

The cool night air swept across your skin as he stepped away.

The full moon, shining directly through the window, only amplified your beauty.

He quietly stepped out onto the balcony.

For a few moments, he simply stood there before pulling out his phone and making a call.

“Hello? Yeah… m’home. Just wanted you to know.”

He sounded giddy as hell.

Like he was talking to his crush.

Pacing back and forth, nervous as ever.

“Don’t worry. I’ll take you up on that dinner offer. It’s on me.”

He said it so matter-of-factly.

You, meanwhile, were eavesdropping.

Eyes closed.

Body still.

Ears.

Wide.

Open.

The more you listened, the hotter your blood ran.

You had to keep reminding yourself that you were supposed to be asleep.

What the hell had gotten into him?

You didn’t know.

But you damn well knew who was on the other end of that phone.

And you were growing tired of her.

—

Months passed.

Preparations for the tour had begun.

Stage outfits were being finalized. Finishing touches were added. Rehearsals became more grueling than ever.

(No time for any TLC from a PYT, for real‼️😭Well… he sure was getting it from some special girl! good ‘ol goldie with the magic box!😭🌊) Girl stop these people reading my thing just chill

Ms. Assistant was in control, all right.

Every phone call.

Every meal.

Everything.

Had.

To go.

Through.

Her.

You heard from her more than you heard from him.

And it was excruciating.

“Can I talk to Michael, please?” you asked politely.

“I’m sorry, but he’s busy right now! You know this is his first solo tour, and the preparation takes a lot of focus. He could do without the distractions.”

She said it in the most condescending tone possible.

This bitch right here.

Goldilocks really didn’t know who she was messing with.

—

It was nighttime now, and both of you were home.

You had to tell him.

You couldn’t go on tour with him.

“Baby?”

You called out to him.

“Yes, mama?”

That tone.

That sweetness.

That eagerness to listen to you like he always had.

He was making this harder already.

“I need to discuss something with you. It’s about the tour.”

You were already terrified to bring it up, but there was no point in dragging it out.

“I can’t go.”

The words left your mouth before you could second-guess them.

“My work schedule doesn’t allow it. I really want to go with you, but I can’t. I’m sorry.”

His usual joyful expression disappeared, replaced with pure sadness.

Like a child watching his helium balloon float away beyond the clouds.

“Are you serious?”

He couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

You had to be joking.

You had to be.

“C’mon, mama. Do this for me.”

He wrapped his arms around you from behind, pulling you close as he spoke softly into your ear.

“I’m sorry, baby, but my boss has me working overtime, and that means I have to work weekends too.”

You said it with a small pout.

He froze around you.

You could feel the tension settle between the two of you.

The look on his face was enough.

“So you can’t even support me now, huh?”

His voice carried disbelief.

“That’s how much that job means to you? You would pick that over me? Over coming on tour with me?”

He repeatedly pointed toward his chest, like he couldn’t understand how you weren’t seeing his side.

(HELL YEAH, I’M ON HIS SIDE BECAUSE WTF DO YOU MEAN YOU CAN’T TAKE OFF TO SEE MICHAEL JACKSON??? HELLOOO??? ANYBODY CAN YOU HEAR ME???)

I’m irritated.

Again.

Yes, I’m irritated again.

You know what? Just keep reading, okay?

Good.

“Baby, I’m sorry, but—”

“You know what?”

He cut you off.

“I don’t even need you there. It’s fine. Don’t worry about it.”

His expression hardened.

“Hope the overtime is worth it.”

And that was it.

He packed his bags.

That was the last conversation the two of you had before he boarded the plane.

—

He had to have been genuinely hurt.

There were no calls.

No messages.

Nothing.

You had to get updates from his team.

Not wanting to tip over the already-full glass of tension between the two of you, you decided it was better to hear things from them instead.

Every time, it was the same thing.

Busy.

Rehearsals.

Meetings.

All that good stuff.

What you didn’t tell him was that you wouldn’t actually be working overtime for an extended period.

After a couple of weeks, you were able to take a leave of absence and join him for the rest of his tour.

What you didn’t know was that while the two of you were growing apart, he and Goldilocks were growing closer.

(While I would loveeee to throw in a chemistry joke, ts probably gonna get tomatoes thrown at me, so I’m… shhhhhh 🤫🤐. But honestly? I don’t care. I’m gonna do it anyway. Like covalent bonding, neutrons all up in each other… yeah, okay, you get the point. Continue.)

They were smiling in each other’s faces, going from hugs to cheek kisses, until eventually she had a whole room that she didn’t even use because she was staying with him.

Forgotten?

You?

Yeah.

Sounds about right.

—

You were so, so, so excited to see him.

You just knew the feeling had to be mutual.

The jet lag was brutal, but you pushed through it. You gathered whatever energy you had left just to see your man.

You were informed of the hotel everyone was staying at.

What room Michael was in.

All the necessary details.

You kept in close contact with one of the band members, drilling it into their brain that under no circumstances should they let him know you were coming.

It was supposed to be a surprise.

So you thought.

After settling into your own room—the room you fully expected to abandon the second he saw you—you made your way toward his.

A HUGE mistake.

The room was a couple of floors up, but that wasn’t surprising. They had several floors booked out for privacy, and you expected nothing less.

When you finally reached his floor, you practically sprinted down the hallway, eager to see him.

Reaching his door, you raised your hand to knock.

Then you froze.

The sounds coming from the other side stopped you completely.

“Uhh, just like that, baby! You’re hitting the spot. Keep going!”

This had to be the wrong room.

It had to be.

But then you heard Goldilocks.

Loudly.

And this was Michael’s room.

The moment the realization hit you, the person you were trying not to think about was no longer just a thought.

You could hear him.

Talking to her.

“That’s it, mama. Keep going. Tell me you belong to me, and no one else can make you feel like this.”

Okay.

So he mentally broke up with me then.

That’s it.

Had to be.

—

A server walked by carrying a tray of drinks.

Probably room service.

Not that you cared.

“Hey, um…”

You looked down at their name tag but couldn’t figure out how to pronounce it.

“Okay, so I can’t pronounce your name. Can I take one of those, please? Pretty please? I really need it.”

You glanced toward the drink.

“I’m currently in the process of getting my heart broken. This looks strong enough to hold it together, don’t you think?”

You lifted the glass.

“Salut.”

The server opened their mouth to respond but quickly closed it when you grabbed the drink and finished it without hesitation.

You carefully placed the empty glass back onto the tray, making sure not to disturb the very busy people inside the room in front of you.

(Goldilocks and Peter Pan.)

The server stared at you in complete disbelief.

You shook yourself vigorously.

Because in less than a minute, there was about to be some WWE-Muhammad Ali fusion type of chaos happening in that room.

“That’s good stuff.”

You patted the server on the shoulder before walking away.

You returned once you saw they were no longer in the hallway.

Standing in front of Michael’s door again, you raised your hand and knocked.

From inside, you heard them both freeze. (Just like when Goldilock greedy self froze when them bears get home for that porridge😭 “just right” OK WE’RE ABOUT TO SEE ABOUT THAT FR😭🙏🏼) Ok I’m done.

“Did you order room service or something?” No. You ordered an ass-kicking. And it was hot and ready too 🥹

Did it have to be room service?

Did he really forget about you THAT much?

“Who is it?” he called out.

“Housekeeping!” you yelled back in a high-pitched voice, attempting to disguise yourself.

“Housekeeping? At this hour?” she responded.

“It’s just routine! I don’t make the rules!” you replied.

“Can’t you see the sign—”

You saw red the moment you saw her.

It was not going to end well for her.

Home-wrecking nobody.

You slapped her across the cheek, not even giving her time to process what happened as she held her face in shock.

You moved toward the mini fridge, grabbed a bottle of cold water, and completely drenched her.

“You like soaking everything up, right? Soak this in, you thirsty bitch!”

You grabbed her hair and pulled her across the carpet.

Michael stood frozen in the corner, trying desperately to get to you.

“Baby, please, let go of her!” he said frantically, reaching for you.

You released her.

Then turned around and slapped him.

“Don’t you dare baby me!”

Your voice shook with anger.

“I go through all this trouble to come and see you, and this is what you’re doing? Huh? All the way out here knee deep in some fucking assistant pussy? Used at that! Is that what you’ve come to? You poked him in the chest, your own chest heaving as your emotions spiraled out of control.

You poked him in the chest, your own chest heaving as your emotions spiraled out of control.

He flinched when you cursed.

He hated when you did that.

But this was not the time for a Disney moment.

It really wasn’t.

You were not in the mood.

“Don’t you fucking come at me about my cursing right now!”

Your voice rose.

“I find you knee-deep in that desperate whore you call your assistant, and the thing you’re worried about is me cursing?”

You laughed bitterly.

“I’ll curse at you, for however long I fucking want to! It’s never going to match up to how much DNA you just shared with Miss Thing over here!”

“Isn’t that right Goldilocks? Hmm?”

You were going off.

And you had every reason to.

Was this really the thanks you got for not being some groupie bitch?

Really?

You crouched down to her level, twisting a strand of her hair between your fingers.

She was trembling.

Tears streamed down her face as fear returned to her eyes.

“You listen to me, and you listen to me good.”

Your voice lowered.

“You ditzy, home-wrecking nobody. Stay the fuck away from me. I’ll stay the fuck away from you.”

You stared directly at her.

“But if you don’t respect my wishes, well… we both know what’s going to happen.”

You stood back up, making sure your message was crystal clear.

“Mama, please. Let me explain—”

“You can stay the fuck away from me too.”

You turned your attention back to him.

“All this running around for what? And you still chose her over me.”

Your eyes scanned the room.

“Look at that! lipstick, the makeup kit, The shoes…”

You shook your head.

“She settled in just fine.”

He reached out toward you, desperate.

“Please.”

“Don’t touch me.”

Your voice was cold.

“I don’t know where your hands have been.”

You walked toward the exit, absentmindedly playing with the set of keys in your hand.

Under your breath, you sang a faint line from the song, “You Can’t Stop the Rain.”

Then you looked back one last time.

“I hope I didn’t interrupt a good time, Mr. Jackson.”

A small smile tugged at your lips.

“Truly. You have a good night.”

You let your body do the rest of the talking as you walked away.

His pov:

Video credit: Gaming Thunder Beast on YouTube

Taglist: @prettyangeliczz @glossedupdollxx @freakinme @michaelsmelodie @softformj @ebvnydesires @soleantoinette @3leni @capricornbrat @unknwnbrii @amilliongoodfish @kittivmj @etherealien @peircetheivyy @michaelsbbg @michaelsbabymother @proseandj @cupidslyrics

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This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

zendaya = 7 letters

michael = 7 letters

michael died at 50

zendaya is 29 years old

50 - 29 = 21

21 / 7 = 3

3 letters = hat

michael joe jackson = 17 letters

17 letters in "don't forget to smile"