kkfwb

Summary: ⁂ღ𐬺𐬿In the midst of the preparation of “The Victory Tour”—You & Michael take a trip to the mountains. Clinging on to whatever time the two of you have left together—before the inevitable months of separation.⁂ꨄ𐬺𐬿

Contents:ꨄ𐬺𐬻𐬿 𐮙Fluff/Mdni/18+/Smut/Angst (if you squint)/One Shot/ Thriller Era/Black Female Reader/Oral (F & M receiving)/Sleepy Sex(?)/Mentions of Jackie Jackson/Just a little Drabble/No proofread/use of dashes—no ai.𐬺𐬿𐬺ꨄ

ღ𐬺Song Inspo:

𐬺Lovin’ You-Minnie Ripperton

𐬺Johnny-Faye Webster

𖦹 A trip to the mountains might have been the best decision the two of you had-collectively-ever made.

You awoke every morning to the soft November rays slipping through the blinds. The sound of the billowing river ensured that it was quiet but never quite silent.

Not that it was silent, anyway. Michael ensured of that.

You awoke every morning to Michaels fingers pushing on your inner thigh; prying your legs apart.

“Mhm. It’s too early baby.”

You’d reached down and tug on his forearm, willing him to cuddle with you and go back to sleep.

He’d press down on your lower abdomen, pushing you onto your back.

“Lemme take care of you.” He’d hum, dragging your panties—slick with your arousal—down your leg.

“Not sure why you even wear these.” He’d mummer, spinning them around on his index finger before tossing them uselessly to the floor.

You always winced when the cold air hit you. You’d always curl up instinctively, conscious of your sopping cunt being so completely visible to him.

“Why you tryin t’ hide this pretty thing?” He’d breathe; his scorching breath tickled your needy pussy, sending tingling sensations throughout the lower half of your body.

You’d wince again when he slid a large finger in with seemingly no warning at all. He’d curl a finger into the spongy part of your gummy walls. You’d hiss, clutching at the sheets, the pillows, or whatever was below you. Desperate to cling onto anything—as the friction sent shockwaves through your core.

A cocky grin would curl at the corners of his lips. He’d say; “Doin’ all that for one finger?” Before sliding a second one in. He curled them inside you, rubbing exactly where you needed him to rub every time.

“Oh my God Michael—Right there.”

He’d peer up at you, humming in satisfaction as he watched you writhe in pleasure above him.

“I know baby. I know how to work you.”

He’d use his thumb to rub at your bean and you’d throw your head uselessly on the pillows beneath you—only to lift it back up so you could watch everything he did to you.

He’d peer up between your legs, flicking his tongue over your sensitive bean, all the while pumping his fingers in and out of your sopping folds, your juices coating his beautiful fingers. This, as a result, would make him painfully hard.

His hips would rut pathetically against the mattress, desperately chasing friction. He’d moan into your needy pussy, the vibrations of his pleasure caused you to lift your hips of the mattress, to rut into against his mouth. He slurped up any juices that slid out of you, using his free hand to still your hips, to hold you in place.

It was one of the most beautiful sights; him between your legs. His mouth and his fingers completely at your mercy. They were for the mere purpose—if only for a moment— to pleasure you.

His thumb continued rubbing your nub in maddening circles, his tongue lapping up the juices his fingers expelled. He was completely and utterly occupied with devouring your needy little pussy. He’d flash you those big doe eyes—watching your every twitch, your every tremble, every time you bit your lip. He enjoyed pleasuring his lady, he enjoyed listening to your every sound.

That sight—above all else—would be the thing that made you come apart every time.

Your walls fluttered, you’d tug at the hair that lived at the nape of his neck, forcing control as you rubbed your pussy against his tongue, his mouth, and his nose. Coating his gorgeous face in your arousal.

“Michael! Fuck. I love you.” You’d cry as you came with an intensity that both exhilarated and terrified you in one intense breath.

He continued lapping at your folds, licking up anything that slipped from you. He’d rut helplessly at the mattress below him, groaning into your cunt as his entire body trembled beneath you.

You’d sit in the defining quiet that was never quite silence, his head resting against your inner thigh as the two of you fought to regain your breath.

Eventually, he’d sit up, his lips and his chin soaked in the evidence of what the two of you had done. Your eyes were hooded with sleep, yet you could see that he’d came in his underwear. He’d tug them off, desperate for comfortability, before curling into you and drifting into a sleep he only ever drifted into when he was with you.

𖦹 A trip to the mountains might have been the best decision the two of you had-collectively-ever made.

Later in the afternoon you’d awake to the smell of freshly cracked eggs and burnt toast. You’d throw on one of his shirts and find him in the kitchen, lazered in on the cooking egg, he insisted on making your egg just right.

He would stand there clad in his character pajama pants, and absolutely nothing else. His collar bone was especially visible, his curls were a wreck. His beauty made your chest hurt. Yet there he was, carefully measuring the correct amount of salt, unaware of his deafening beauty.

He didn’t eat eggs, but he cooked them for you. Something about the thoughtfulness of it melted your heart every time.

It was these little moments that you loved the most with him, the moments where he was stripped of any performance. The moments where you leaned forward to smooth his wild curls, or the moments when you wiped crust from the corner of his eye.

Just looking at him made you want to cry. How could someone be so stunning yet so blissfully unaware of it?

The two of you would sit on the porch—your legs draped over his as you shoved your face. His cooking wasn’t perfect, but it was his.

You would laugh and talk about everything and nothing—desperate to distract your mind from the looming inevitability of him leaving you in a few days time.

𖦹 A trip to the mountains might have been the best decision the two of you had-collectively-ever made.

Just as the sun began to set over the horizon, he’d race you barefooted through the long grass, leaping over sticks and rocks and anything that might be in the way—before plunging dramatically into the freezing creek.

It was always freezing. It was the middle of November. Why wouldn’t it be?

You knew this and followed him there every time anyway.

In a cliché manner, you thought, this could be as an example of ‘love being blind.’ It was corny but was true. You followed whatever he did aimlessly—without a question or a second thought.

Weather that included cheeky little pranks on hotel staff,

Or dressing up Louie and Bubbles for no reason other than the fact that he simply could.

Of waking up in the late hours of the night for a sexual rendezvous

Or leaping into a body of water high in the mountains in the middle of November.

Jackie had called you a love-sick puppy.

And maybe you were.

To your defense, he was just as crazy about you. It was in everything he did.

Weather it was him subconsciously wrapping his hand around your waist as you walked down the street

Or bringing you with him to do the most mundane of things.

Waking you in the early hours of the morning to pleasure you, not even considering himself.

This trip alone was evidence enough.

𖦹 A trip to the mountains might have been the best decision the two of you had-collectively-ever made.

When the sun sank and the two of you changed into warm clothes.

When you’d climbed into his lap, leaning against him as the fire crackled in front of you, laminating your brown skin.

He held a long stick, a blackening marshmallow at its tip. He’d peppering kisses to your cheek, and murmur promises of a lasting love.

“I love you so much mama. Y’know that? I love you so much it hurts.”

You’d turn to look at him, searching for any hint of insincerity in his eyes. You’d find none. Instead, you found the burning intensity you felt every waking moment of every day reflected in his own eyes.

“I love you too Mikey. More than anything.” It was true. The truest thing that had ever escaped your lips.

You’d pluck the marshmallow from the stick and press it to his lips. He’d hold it between his teeth so the two of you could take a dual bite. A bite that always drifted into a kiss, your tongue chasing that sweetness that resided on his lips.

He’d grip your ass, giving you a pat that communicated to you; get up.

The two of you would stumble into the house, yours lips and bodies clashing in a lustful desperation.

You’d tug on his jeans, exposing the hem of his underwear before pushing him onto the edge of the mattress.

You’d kneel between his legs, tugging your shirt down to reveal your breasts because you knew he loved that.

“Oh mama, no. You—” his voice would crack, and he’d take a large gulp, his Adam’s apple bobbing.

“—You don’t have to do that.” He’d whine, tugging at your forearm in a feeble attempt to pull you up from your knees.

“Shh.” You’d whisper, pulling his semi-hard cock from his briefs.

“Lemme take care of you.” You’d hum, dragging his underwear—slick with his arousal—down his leg.

He took care of you so well, why wouldn’t you do the same thing for him?

You’d pump his thick cock, dragging your tongue along it in tantalizingly slow intervals until he was at full mass in your grasp.

You’d drag your tongue along his swollen tip, and he’d hiss at you. “Stop teasing me.”

You smirked, pretending like you were going to take the full of him into your mouth—Only to pull away as soon as his tip hit the roof of your mouth. He whined pathetically.

“I mean it. Stop teasing me mama. Either you do it for real or we ain’t doin’ it at all.”

His brows were scrunched together, his hands gripping at the sheets below him. His cock throbbed in protest when you pulled your lips away completely. You loved when he tried to get stern with you. It never quite worked. At least, not in the way he’d intended.

Your heart lurched as you parted your lips, how could you deny him any longer?

His hips thrusted forward involuntarily as soon as you took him—all of him in. You’d gag, trying to the best of your ability to take him fully.

He pulled out of your mouth completely, holding your face in his hands. “M’ sorry baby. I’m so sorry. Did I hurt you?”

You gently guided his hands down to rest on his thighs. “No Michael.” You gasped, wrapping your hand around the base of his cock. “It felt good. I liked it.”

He’d moaned, tossing his head back. “You’re so good to me mama. What did I ever do to deserve you.”

You took him back into your mouth, hallowing out your cheeks so that there was absolutely no space between your mouth and his aching shaft.

“Fuck mama.” He only ever got profane in the bedroom, when you pleasured him, stripping him bare, tearing down any reprieve. “Y’keep that up I’m gonna spend.”

You hummed in satisfaction around him, causing him to buck his hips—the tip of his cock hitting your uvula. You coughed and saliva dribbled from your mouth, soaking the base of his cock.

You enjoyed undoing him like this. You enjoyed being the only person who could undo him like this.

You quickened your movements on his dick, swirling your tongue around the length him of him—pulling back momentarily to catch your breath—jacking him off all the while—before plunging back down on him.

You reached down, using one hand to hold him at the base, using the other to squeeze at his balls.

That threw him over the edge. You felt them constrict in your hand, his fingers tagging in your hair and forcing you down on him completely.

He began to fuck your throat, your teeth grazing his sensitive shaft. He gave one sloppy thrust, then two, then three.

𖦹 A trip to the mountains might have been the best decision the two of you had-collectively-ever made.

When he held you down on him, so that his pubic hair tickled your nose and the only thing you could smell was his soft, musky scent.

When he cried your name as he came down your throat. Shooting thick ropes and coating your mouth in white.

When your lashes clumped together, wet with tears, your hair a wreck from his tugging, your lips swollen.

When he’d scooped you off the ground and pulled you on the bed beside you, running his hands through your hair over and over again in an attempt to soothe you—and perhaps, soothe himself.

“I’m so sorry baby.” He’d whispered into the sensitive skin of your ear.

You held his face in your hands, you hadn’t realized he’d begun crying.

You pressed a soft kiss on his lips. “Don’t be sorry Michael. Don’t ever be sorry for letting yourself feel with me. Not now. Not ever.”

𖦹 A trip to the mountains might have been the best decision the two of you had-collectively-ever made.

When he curled into you, laying his head on your breasts, and whispered of dreams of this lasting forever. Of being here with you, in this moment forever.

It wouldn’t. It couldn’t

The real world was beckoned for you. The creeping inevitably of responsibility, and the indefinite months of separation that loomed over you like a shadow.

As the sun rose one final morning over the mountains, and the river filled the quiet of the room

Ensuring it was never silent

You ran your fingers through his curls. His voice was drowsy, his eyes were hooded.

“This trip to mountains..” He murmured into your skin, his voice stirring something deep within you. He’d paused for a moment, perhaps nodding off. Perhaps, reconsidering completely.

“Might have been the best decision we’ve ever made.”

ִֶָ𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ🍸✨🩶🪞Imagine This་༘࿐

Flashback, 1 week prior

As you packed for your upcoming trip, your husband hovered nearby, watching your every move. Leaning against the bedroom pillar, his eyes followed each piece of clothing you folded into your suitcase. Little did he know, the lingerie had already been tucked away inside a hidden compartment long before he walked in. Still, you met his suspicious gaze with a reassuring smile, convincing him this was nothing more than another business trip. Before long, you’d be back home… and the two of you would put this rough patch behind you

But this couldn’t be any further from the truth

Immediately upon arriving in Paris, you were welcomed by a warm bath drawn by Dangerous!michael himself. As you sank into the steaming water, he stood behind you, gently massaging the tension from your shoulders and back, the fragrant suds gliding beneath his hands. Champagne flute in hand, you absentmindedly watched droplets of water cascade from your raised leg back into the tub while the two of you savored the rare moment of peace

Between quiet sips and soft laughter, you vented about the chaos you’d left behind. Michael listened without interrupting, occasionally brushing a kiss along your temple before trailing them to the side of your neck, placing his free hand in between your thighs and rubbing your pussy. Smirking against your skin as your lip bites turned into full blown moaning. Gripping at the sides of the bathtub until you reached your climax against his fingers

But this was far from over. Immediately out of the bath Michael bent you over the bathroom counter, one leg draped over the cold marble. Holding your face as he fucked you from behind, his lips pressed against your ear. Telling you how beautiful you are and how much he loved the way your pussy felt around his dick, the way it constricted around his shaft and squeezed when he hit your cervix. Michael always took his time with you & appreciated every part of your body. Eating your pussy like it wasn’t enough, worshipping your body and making up for lost time

Just as you climaxed for the final round, your head draped back and your eyes shut. Digging your nails into his chest as the dopamine flooded your brain. Clenching your walls around Michael’s dick as you leaked out “That’s my baby” Michael coo’d running his fingers through your hair before pulling his attention back to your perky nipples. Just then you were lying on your back, legs wrapped around his waist as he fucked you relentlessly

You stood just behind the stage curtain, absentmindedly biting the cap of your pen as you watched Michael command the stage during Give In to Me. Every movement, every note, every flick of his wrist had the crowd hanging on his every word. Your eyes drifted to the gold chain resting against his chest, and you couldn’t help but blush

Just hours earlier, that very same chain had been brushing against your face as the two of you shared another moment together. The memory was enough to make your cheeks warm, forcing you to look back down at your clipboard before anyone noticed where your mind had wandered

The affair had become full-fledged, and somewhere along the way, you’d stopped trying to fight it. You’d become so consumed by the world you’d built with Michael that the life waiting for you back home had begun to fade into the background. Your husband could barely get a hold of you anymore, probably because you were too busy making love to Michael to hear the phone in your room ringing off the hook

That’s actually how you almost got caught the first time. After weeks of hiding behind excuses like “I’ve just been really busy” and “I’m exhausted,” your husband decided to surprise you in Paris. Unfortunately for you, his timing couldn’t have been worse. Michael was still in your hotel suite, fast asleep and naked when word came that your husband was on his way upstairs

Thankfully, security intercepted him before he reached your floor, buying you just enough time to throw on a robe, compose yourself, and meet him downstairs over coffee,doing everything you could to convince him he was simply an unexpected visitor, not a man who had almost stumbled upon the truth

But instead of easing the tension, it only made things worse. Now you had a suspicious husband back home and an increasingly jealous Michael questioning why your husband had shown up in Paris at all. The moment the two of you were finally alone again, his frustration was impossible to hide. Every touch, every lingering glance, every possessive embrace carried the weight of questions he hadn’t yet asked

He began taking his frustrations out on you sexually, forcing eye contact whenever he was on top. Thrusting in you harder. Intertwining your fingers with his. Asking you questions like “Do you love me?” “When am I going to have you all for myself?”. Everything about the sex had changed, as if this was Michael’s way of getting you to pick him

Truthfully, you were trapped in a cycle of your own making. You loved your husband—you truly did—but somewhere along the way, your feelings for Michael had grown into something you could no longer ignore. He understood parts of you that had long gone unseen, making it harder to remember the life waiting for you back home

Yet the thought of choosing Michael terrified you. The headlines, the judgment, the inevitable backlash that would come with finally living your truth weighed heavily on your mind. So, for now, you remained exactly where you’d been for months—a woman torn between the life she’d built and the love she never expected to find

But it all came crashing down the moment you returned from Paris. Waiting for you in your office was your husband, a handwritten letter you’d foolishly tried to hide clutched in one hand… and a pair of underwear from one of your rendezvous in the other. Your feet felt rooted to the floor as you searched his face for any hint of mercy. There was none. In that moment, every lie, every excuse, every stolen weekend caught up to you all at once. Truthfully… you knew you were fucked

A/N: I’m reaaaaally liking side!michael. Yes I’m writing more as we speak!

𑣲. description: a late-night phone call from tour proves michael can't get you out of his head. guided only by your voice over the line, he surrenders completely to you.

content: 18+, smut, sub!michael, phone sex, softdom reader, tutor x student plot, masturbation, dirty talk

𐙚⋆.˚ the late afternoon sun poured through the high windows at hayvenhurst, casting long golden light across the dark wood dining table. tour itineraries, flight schedules, and notebooks were piled up between you two, making a mess of paperwork.

michael sat right beside you, his chair turned so his knee bumped yours whenever he shifted. he wore a loose red silk shirt with the sleeves rolled up, black trousers, and his curls hung around his shoulders.

over the past few weeks, your tutoring sessions had turned into something way deeper than algebra. a few weeks back, the tension between you two finally snapped right against the bedroom door. you took charge, showing him how to kiss, how to put his face between your thighs, and how to press himself into you until you were both out of breath. ever since, it had been a flirty, intense dynamic between you two. but with tour starting today, time was running out.

"okay," you murmured, tapping the tip of your pen against the lined paper of his notebook. "for the midwest leg budget, you need to solve for x right here..."

the quiet in the room suddenly felt a little too thick. no paper scratching, no shift of his weight, no soft hums of agreement. you paused, the blue ink soaking slightly into the page as you waited, then turned your head to look at him.

michael wasn't looking at the math at all.

he was leaning back in his chair, his head tilted slightly with his chin resting in the cup of his palm. his dark eyes were locked onto you—completely unmoving, completely unbothered by the open ledger between you.

they traced the faint movement of your lips as you spoke, dropped down to the steady rhythm of your hands, and lingered on the little silver chain resting against your collarbone, rising and falling with your breath.

the quiet stretched between you for a long second, heavy and full, until the hum of the room seemed to fade out entirely.

"michael?" you asked softly, lowering your voice almost instinctively. "are you even looking at this?"

it took him a moment to register your voice. he blinked, the fog clearing from his eyes just enough for the sudden, dark blush to flood his cheeks, burning up to his ears.

he swallowed hard, his throat moving nervously, before the silence snapped and he blurted out, "i can't stop thinking about how good you made me feel that day."

you froze. the pen stayed hovering a millimeter above the page, a warm rush spilling straight down your spine and flushing your skin. "michael..."

"i'm serious," he whispered, breaking the distance between you as he leaned in closer, his voice dropping an octave, rich and deliberate. "i've never felt anything like that in my life. i haven't stopped thinking about it."

you let out a slow breath, deliberate and calm, before propping your elbow on the table and resting your chin in your hand. a sweet, playful smile tugged at the corner of your mouth as you let your eyes lock onto his, refusing to pull away.

"is that right?" you murmured, letting the silence sit for a beat. "so my star student is completely distracted." you held his gaze, letting the pause stretch just long enough to make him hold his breath. "tell me something, mike... have you ever touched yourself?"

the tension shifted instantly. michael’s gaze dropped to the floor, his entire body tensing with a sudden, overwhelming shy energy. his fingers dug into the seam of his pants, twisting the fabric over and over as his chest heaved with a shallow breath.

"no... no, baby," he muttered, his voice barely a breath.

"never?" you teased gently, keeping your tone smooth and unhurried. "not even once?"

"no," he whispered. slowly, he tilted his head up, looking at you from beneath the shadow of his dark curls, his eyes wide and uncertain. "how... how does it even work?"

you leaned back in your chair, completely relaxed and unbothered by the sudden shift in the air. you let your hands rest casually on the edge of the desk, using small, measured gestures as you broke it down for him.

"well, most guys figure it out when they're younger, mike. they just use their own hands to touch themselves late at night... until they finish."

michael tried to listen, but having you sit there talking so openly about it had a heavy rush of blood going straight to his lap. he shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his pants getting tight.

"are you even listening to me?" you teased, noticing his heavy breathing.

before he could answer, the heavy wooden doors swung open.

"hey mike!" marlon called out, leaning in. "bus is loaded, we're leaving in five!"

michael practically jumped, grabbing a thick manila folder off the table and slamming it over his lap to hide the bulge. "i—i'll be right out, marlon!" he squeaked, voice cracking completely.

"alright, hurry up!" marlon yelled, shutting the door.

you burst out laughing at his sheer panic, shaking your head as you packed up your bag. "looks like someone got a little ahead of the lesson," you teased, sliding a stack of review sheets over. "here, keep your mind busy on the road."

michael lowered the folder, groaning into his hands. "please don't tease me," he whimpered, face bright red. "that was so embarrassing..."

he stood up, tucking the folder under his arm, and walked beside you toward the door.

"i'm gonna miss figuring out x with you," he murmured, stepping close in the doorway.

"i'm gonna miss it more, baby," you smiled up at him.

gaining some sudden confidence, he set the folder down and pulled you into a tight, warm hug. you wrapped your arms around his neck, burying your face in his shoulder, breathing in his scent of vanilla and linen.

when you pulled back, his hands stayed on your hips. he leaned in close, eyes dropping to your lips, his hot breath hitting your cheek as he went to kiss you—

"michael! let's go! bus is leaving!" jermaine's voice boomed down the hall.

michael let out a defeated sigh, resting his forehead against yours for a second before pulling away.

"duty calls, sweet boy," you whispered, brushing a curl from his forehead. "go shine."

"thank you," he murmured softly. "i'll see you soon."

the next night, his hotel suite in chicago was quiet except for the hum of the ac and rain tapping the window. on the nightstand beside a glass of ice water and a red digital clock, his tour binder sat half-open.

back in california, you were propped up on your pillows with the room dimly lit when your landline rang, breaking the quiet of the night. you picked it up on the second ring, resting the receiver against your ear. "hello?"

"hey..." michael's voice came through, quiet and breathless over the long-distance static. you could hear the faint hum of the phone line stretching across the country between you, carrying the soft, uneven rhythm of his breathing.

a gentle smile tugged at your lips as you adjusted the cord in your fingers, leaning back into the headboard. "hey, stranger. you made it to chicago alright?"

"yeah... we landed late this afternoon," he said softly. you could hear the distant rustle of cotton sheets as he shifted in bed, the low hum of the hotel room’s air conditioner running in the background. "the city's pretty... but it's cold up here tonight. raining real hard outside my window."

"is it?" you hummed, lowering your tone to match his quiet vibe. "sounds cozy."

"mhm... it is," he murmured. he went quiet for a second, just letting the steady rhythm of his breathing carry across the phone line.

it was so quiet you could hear the soft click of his hotel room clock. "i... i was looking over these budget sheets you gave me..." he stammered out, his voice suddenly stumbling a little as if trying to anchor himself to something ordinary. "i just... had a question about page two... i couldn't figure out the second problem..."

you chuckled softly, sinking deeper against your pillows, the warm, knowing sweetness in your tone traveling straight down the wire.

"michael... sweetheart," you murmured, your voice dropping into a smooth, low tease. "what's really on your mind?"

a heavy beat of static passed. on the other end, he let out a long, shaky sigh that sounded like he’d been holding it in his lungs for hours.

a heavy beat of static passed. on the other end, you heard the faint rustle of bedsheets, followed by a long, shaky sigh that sounded like he’d been holding it in for hours.

"i can't sleep, baby," he confessed in a low whisper, the raw honesty in his tone almost painful. "i'm just... lying here in my pajama pants, staring at the ceiling... and my heart is beating so fast i can hear it in my ears."

"why is it beating so fast, mike?" you asked softly, giving him the space to say it, letting the silence hover between you like a secret.

"because..." he paused, swallowing hard, the faint sound of his throat moving echoing through the line. "gosh, baby... i'm so hard right now," he admitted, dead shy, his voice dropping so low it was almost lost to the static. "i... i tried to ignore it, but i can't. i'm lying here losing my mind... thinking about that day. thinking about your hands, how soft you were with me... i just want that feeling again so bad."

you smiled to yourself. "well... remember what we talked about yesterday? that might help."

"i know, but..." he whined softly. "i'm nervous, baby... i've never done it. i don't wanna do it wrong."

"don't be nervous. i'm right here," you purred. "just listen to my voice and do exactly what i say, okay?"

"yes..." he breathed out immediately. "please."

"alright. kick off your heavy blanket. let the cool air hit your skin and lie flat on your back."

you heard the heavy rustle of hotel sheets over the line. "okay... i'm flat on my back."

"good boy. now take your right hand and put your palm flat against your chest. feel your heart."

he let out a shaky breath. "it's pounding so hard... i feel it in my throat..."

"i know. now slowly drag your fingers down past your ribs to your stomach. circle your belly button gently."

"mmm... yeah... it's so warm, baby..." he rasped, his warm breath catching in his chest.

"now slide your hand under the waistband of your pants. just rest your palm on your lower stomach, right above your hip bones."

"god, yes, baby..." he whimpered. "i'm throbbing so bad... it aches..."

"getting so worked up just listening to me," you teased softly. "now slide lower. wrap your fingers around yourself over your underwear first."

a sharp gasp came over the line. "it feels so hot... so tight and hard..." michael whined out, feeling a damp wet spot from his own precum.

pull your pants all the way down, michael. get them out of the way."

you heard the slick, quick rustle of satin sliding down his long legs and being kicked aside onto the carpet. "okay... they're down..."

"good boy. wrap your bare hand around the base. trace the soft pad of your thumb around the tip. tiny, soft circles."

"oh... gh... baby...!" michael groaned loudly, his hips jerking up off the mattress in a sudden reflex. "oh god... it stings, it's so sensitive... ah..."

"i know. use a little bit of your own wetness from the tip to coat your fingers. then wrap your whole hand around the base again."

"okay... i got it, baby..." his voice was visibly shaking now, raspy and thick. "my hand's around it..."

"squeeze just a little and slide your hand up to the top, then all the way back down. smooth, long strokes."

"mhm... ah... ah..." he let out a low, shuddering groan, the slick, rhythmic sound of his grip coming through loud and clear over the static. "like this, baby? oh god... mmm..."

"just like that. now hold on—pause your hand near the top."

he let out a tortured, high-pitched whine, instantly freezing his movement. "baby... why are we stopping?"

"because i wanna know why you're so hard right now. tell me what's going through your head."

michael swallowed hard, his breathing heavy and ragged against the mouthpiece. "i wanna pull you so close there's no space between us," he whispered desperately. "i wanna kiss you everywhere until you're breathing as hard as i am... feel your hands in my hair again. i just wanna make you feel good, mama... i wanna be so close to you."

"oh yeah?" you teased softly. "tell me what else you wanna do to me."

“i wanna kiss your neck until you're trembling... taste every inch of you until you're whimpering my name... feel you soft and warm under me until we're both completely out of breath... you're just so damn pretty—fuck..." his words derailed completely as the mental image swept over him, making him lose his train of thought entirely.

"god, i just wanna feel you, baby..." he whimpered, his face scrunching up in pure frustration in the dark hotel room. "i wanna make you feel so good, mama... ug-gh..."

he squirmed restlessly on the mattress, his knuckles white as he clutched at the hotel sheets, his hips bucking uselessly into the empty air.

"i wanna be inside of you real b-bad, mama..." he whined, a high moan vibrating straight through the receiver. "i wanna—oh, fuck... i wanna be so deep inside my baby..."

miles away in your bed, a heavy wave of heat throbbed between your own thighs listening to him completely unspool. but you kept your focus—tonight was all about breaking him down bit by bit.

"fuck, mama, i just need—i need to be so deep in that stomach..." he gasped out, trembling at the sheer thought of it.

"mhm, baby..." you purred softly into the receiver. "tell mama exactly how you feel..."

"i just wanna lie right on top of you," he rambled on, his voice raspy, desperate, and heavy. "look right in your eyes while i press into you... holding your hands pinned down next to your head, fingers locked so you can't move... just heavy on top of you..."

"mhm, that sounds so good, sweet boy..." you encouraged gently.

michael let out a pathetic, needy whine, his hand involuntarily dragging up and down his shaft in a series of slick glides. "god, if my own hand feels this damn good, baby... i know you feel so much better... so warm and tight..."

he paused, taking a sharp, hitched breath as another vivid memory hit him. "and... those silk panties you wore that day..." he whimpered, his cheeks burning red even alone in the dark. "when you pulled them down... god, mama, i wanted to take them home with me so bad... keep them inside my pillowcase so i could smell you every single night..."

you chuckled softly into the receiver. "aww... you're so nasty for mama, mike... and i love it."

"i'm not, i swear—ah! baby—!" he squeaked, his voice cracking into a loud, high moan as his hand slipped over his slick tip, his hips jerking upward again.

"i love it when you're this hard for me, baby..." you hummed smoothly. "mmm... you'd fit so good down mama's throat..."

michael was panting like he was running out of air, the wet slap of his hand against his skin growing faster and faster as he tried desperately not to lose control.

a loud, high gasp tore from his throat, his back arching completely off the bed. "aah! baby!" he shrieked-groaned, the sound raw and echoing. "oh god, don't say that—fuck, mama! that's making my knees go numb! ah! ah!"

"i can't hold it, mama...!" he sobbed weakly into the phone. "i'm right there... please, baby, let me come..."

"ah-ah, michael," you cut in firmly, your voice dripping with authority. "did i tell you to speed up? slow down right now. long, slow strokes."

"oh god..." he whimpered out, forcing his shaking hand to slow down to an agonizing, torturous crawl. "you're so cruel to me, baby... mmm... it hurts how bad i want you..."

to keep himself from disobeying your command, he yanked his hotel pillow over his face, muffling deep, desperate groans into the cotton while his hips twitched helplessly against the sheets.

he pulled the pillow back just an inch to gasp breathlessly into the receiver. "i'm biting the pillow, baby... i'm holding still... see? i'm being a good boy... please just tell me i can move my hand..."

you listened to his desperate, hitched breathing, absolute mastery over him filling you with satisfaction.

"good boy," you purred. "you talked so sweet for me, mike. now... pick up the pace."

he let out a loud, shuddering sob of pure relief. "oh, thank god—!"

"stroke faster now! press your thumb right on the underside of the tip as you slide up. give it all to mama, every last drop."

a desperate, loud groan echoed loudly through his empty hotel room. "oh god... baby! right... right there—! ah! ah!"

"that's it, michael. speed up for me sweetheart.” you hummed softly, imagining the view of him losing it in your head.

"baby—! i'm gonna—! oh god, it's coming—!" his voice broke completely as his rhythm went frantic and wild.

"let it go, michael! finish for me!"

with a loud, breathless yell into his pillow, michael totally surrendered. you listened as his heavy, ragged gasps filled the receiver, the slick sounds coming to a sudden halt as he rode out the intense, overwhelming wave.

"oh... ah... ah... god..." he panted heavily into the phone, his chest heaving.

for a solid minute, all you heard over the long-distance line was static and the loud, echoing sound of his chest taking in air as he caught his breath.

"michael?" you called out softly. "you still with me?"

a soft, utterly embarrassed giggle came through the speaker, followed by the muffled sound of him hiding his face in the hotel bedding.

"oh, man..." he whimpered out, his voice thick, raspy, and sleepy. "baby... wow. i literally can't move my legs."

"see?" you teased gently. "look how good you did for me."

"you're amazing," he whispered warmly, the edge completely gone from his tone, replaced by pure affection. "i... oh goodness... i made a total mess all over my stomach..."

you laughed softly into the phone. "that's fine, sweetie. grab a towel from the bathroom or nightstand and wipe yourself clean."

you heard him reach over to the bedside table, rustle a hotel towel, and softly wipe his skin clean.

"all clean, baby..." he murmured, settling heavily back down into the plush pillows, totally spent and relaxed.

he set the heavy plastic phone receiver right on the pillow next to his head, turning onto his side so his face was just inches from the mouthpiece. holding the coiled cord lightly in his long fingers, he just rested there in the pitch-dark room, exhausted, warm, and entirely peaceful.

"i wish you were here holding me," he whispered, his voice trailing off into a raspy, slurred mumble. "wish i could hide my face in your neck."

"i know, sweet boy," you murmured, your heart melting at the sound of him. "just close your eyes and pretend my hand is in your curls."

"mmm..." he breathed out, his chest rising and falling in slow, heavy, deep rhythms. you could hear the quiet, steady sound of his breathing right against the receiver, all the tension completely melted out of his body. "don't hang up... stay on until i'm asleep..."

"i'm not going anywhere," you purred softly. "go to sleep, mike."

a faint, contented hum came through the line, and within a couple of minutes, his breathing turned into deep, peaceful sleep rhythms over the steady hum of static.

rival heat part 2 - part 1 pairing: thriller mj x pop!star reader summary: you and michael decided to move in together, and being the annoying brat she was, diana ross came to visit your apartment and made a scene, though michael proved to be the sweetest boyfriend by calming you down and reassuring you afterward. warnings: smut, mdni, f receiving! a.n: from this request <3

two months later, the transition from explosive backstage rivalry to an all-consuming, high-stakes romance has turned both of your lives into a permanent tabloid circus.

every morning, your front doorstep is practically blockaded by a wall of oversized telephoto lenses, flashbulbs popping blindly the second you so much as open the curtains. the headlines are relentless, screaming across the front pages of every gossip rag in america: pop royalty civil war? michael jackson & his fierce rival move in together!

you are still adjusting to the chaos of it all. when michael first suggested that you move out of your cramped downtown loft and into his private sanctuary, you flat-out refused. hayvenhurst—with its towering iron gates, the constant hum of security teams, the zoo animals roaming the lawns, and the suffocating presence of the jackson family orbit—felt too heavy, too much like stepping straight into a gilded cage. so, you compromised. michael packed up a fraction of his wardrobe, his endless stacks of cassette tapes, and his obsessive collection of film books, and quietly moved into your spacious, sunlit duplex overlooking the city instead.

it was supposed to be your safe haven away from the world. but today, even your own living room feels entirely too small.

you are sitting cross-legged on the plush white sofa, wearing one of michael’s oversized vintage graphic tees and a pair of silk shorts, nursing a cup of tea. michael is sprawled out completely across the length of the couch, his head resting heavily in your lap. his long, dark legs hang lazily over the armrest, and he is softly humming an unfinished melody under his breath, his eyes half-closed.

he lifts one hand, his fingers idly catching your right hand. with a slow, deliberate laziness, he brings your index finger to his mouth, parting his lips to suck lazily on the tip. it’s a quiet, intensely intimate habit he’s picked up over the last few weeks—a grounding mechanism whenever he’s feeling particularly content, anchoring himself to the taste of you while he writes lyrics in his head.

"michael, stop it," you murmur, though there is no real heat behind your voice. you gently tug your hand, but he just hums a soft note of protest, his warm tongue swirling lazily around your knuckle, sending a delicious, lazy shiver straight through your lower stomach.

"mm-mm," he mumbles against your skin, his voice thick and drowsy with afternoon exhaustion. "feels good... tastes like vanilla. don't move."

you let out a soft sigh, your free hand automatically tangling into his damp, loose curls, scratching softly at his scalp the way he likes. the quiet afternoon sunlight streams through the tall windows, wrapping the two of you in a golden, domestic bubble that feels miles away from the screaming paparazzi waiting on the pavement downstairs.

until the sharp, insistent chime of the apartment buzzer shatters the silence.

you freeze. michael stops moving entirely, his eyes snapping open.

"who on earth is that?" you whisper, frowning down at him. "did you invite someone over?"

"no," michael says, his brow furrowing as he slowly lifts his head from your lap, sitting up and rubbing his face with both hands. "i told bill we weren't taking visitors today. nobody knows we're here."

ding-dong. the buzzer rings again, longer and sharper this time.

grumbling under your breath, you toss your tea mug onto the coffee table, swing your legs over michael’s, and walk over to the intercom by the entryway. you press the talk button, your voice sharp with annoyance. "yes?"

"darling! open up before my shoes ruin!" a rich, instantly recognizable, theatrical voice warbles through the speaker box. "oh, don't look at me like that through the little glass lens, sweetheart. i know you're in there!"

your blood runs instantly cold, replaced a split second later by a flash of pure fury.

diana ross.

before you can even hit the buzzer to tell her to turn right around and march back into whatever limousine brought her here, the heavy private elevator dings. the secure service foyer doors slide open with a quiet mechanical hiss, and there she stands, stepping straight into your hallway as if she owns the building.

diana wrapped in a sweeping white mink stole over a perfectly tailored yves saint laurent pantsuit, oversized sunglasses pushed up onto her voluminous hair, flashing a blinding, million-dollar megawatt smile that doesn't reach her eyes.

"surprise!" she trills, sweeping past the threshold like a walking hurricane. "oh, look at this place! so cozy. a little bohemian for my tastes, but i suppose it has character. where's my favorite boy?"

you stand frozen by the entryway, your hands balling into tight fists at your sides. your jaw works furiously as you watch her glide right into your living room, completely bypassing you as if you are nothing more than a piece of hallway furniture.

"diana?" michael says, blinking in genuine bewilderment as he stands up from the sofa, hastily smoothing down the front of his shirt. "what... what are you doing here?"

diana wastes no time. she closes the distance between them with feline grace, completely ignoring your existence. before michael can even fully process what's happening, she reaches out, her long, manicured red nails latching familiarly onto the lapels of his shirt, pulling him down into a lingering, overly enthusiastic double-cheek kiss that presses dangerously close to the corner of his lips.

her hands linger. her fingers slide smooth and slow down his chest, smoothing his collar with a sickeningly intimate, proprietary touch.

"oh, michael, darling, look at you," she purrs, her voice dropping into that sultry tone. "when word got out that you two little rebels had finally decided to play house and move in together, i just had to come by and congratulate you myself. i brought champagne, of course. though honestly, michael, living in a shoebox downtown? i was terrified the neighborhood riff-raff would eat you alive before breakfast."

she lets out a bright, melodic laugh, sliding her hand down his arm to intimately link her fingers through his inner elbow, leaning her shoulder right up against his chest.

your internal temperature spikes straight past boiling point.

you don't just dislike diana ross. you harbor a deep, burning resentment for the way she has always treated michael like her personal, lifetime accessory, constantly hovering around him with that mother-hen-meets-flirty-mentor act that makes your skin crawl. but waltzing uninvited into your home, touching your man, and insulting your living space while batting her eyelashes?

oh, hell no.

"well, diana," you say, your voice dripping with a freezing, razor-sharp sweetness that could cut glass. "it's a good thing we keep the front door locked to keep the riff-raff out, though clearly someone forgot to check the back service elevator for stray gatecrashers."

diana’s smile falters for a fraction of a second. she turns her head slowly, looking you up and down through narrowed, assessing eyes, her perfectly arched eyebrows climbing toward her hairline.

"oh, sweetie," diana replies, her tone dripping with patronizing condescension as she tightens her grip on michael's arm. "you're still talking. how cute. i didn't realize speaking uninvited was part of the welcome wagon duties here. michael, darling, you really must teach your little roommate some manners before she barks at the wrong guests."

michael clears his throat, looking distinctly like a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming freight train. he shifts his weight awkwardly, glancing between the two of you with wide, panicked dark eyes.

"diana, look, it's... it's really great of you to stop by, but—" michael starts, trying to gently untangle his arm from her grip.

"your roommate?" you snap, cutting him off entirely, your eyes locking onto diana with absolute venom. you step right into diana’s personal space, towering over her with rigid, unyielding posture. "let's get one thing straight, diana. i am not his roommate. i am his partner. and as for manners, the absolute first rule of basic human decency in my house is not walking through the front door uninvited like a lost ghost, and certainly keeping your greasy, grabby hands off my man."

diana gasps, her hand flying dramatically to her chest, her eyes flashing with sudden, icy offense. "well! i never. the sheer disrespect! i came here out of pure affection for michael, trying to bring a touch of class to this dreadful little dungeon, and you stand there barking like an alley cat—"

"an alley cat?!" you laugh, a sharp, ugly sound of pure disbelief. "at least i don't have to break into people's apartments unannounced just to feel relevant on a tuesday afternoon, diana! your career peaked during the disco era, go back to palm springs and let the adults live their lives!"

"okay, okay, wait—stop, stop!" michael finally finds his voice, jumping physically between the two of you, holding his hands up in a placating gesture. his face is flushed a deep, panicked pink, his eyes wide and darting back and forth. "hey! stop it. both of you. right now. please."

"michael jackson, don't you dare tell me to stop," diana sniffs, drawing herself up to her full height, glaring daggers at you over michael's shoulder. "the girl has no class, no respect for her elders, and clearly no idea how to treat a guest!"

"she didn't invite you, diana!" michael blurts out, his voice cracking slightly under the pressure as he looks desperately at the older icon. "neither did i! look, you've been wonderful to me for years, but you can't just show up here uninvited! especially not... especially not like this."

diana stares at him, her mouth parting in genuine shock. she looks at michael as if he's grown a second head, utterly baffled that he is actually taking your side against her.

"oh," diana breathes, her voice dropping into a chilly, aristocratic frost. she slowly unhooks her arm from michael’s, stepping back toward the private elevator with dignified, icy slowness. "i see how it is. the little princess has completely clouded your judgment, hasn't she? well, don't say i didn't warn you when she drains your soul and leaves you out to dry, michael."

she shoots one final, murderous glare straight at you. "have a lovely evening in your... dungeon."

with a sharp click of her heels, she steps backward into the elevator. the doors slide shut, cutting off her offended huff just as the unit descends back down to the lobby.

the heavy silence that follows is deafening.

you stand in the middle of the living room, your chest heaving, your fists still clenched so tight your knuckles are stark white.

michael exhales a long, shaky breath, letting his hands drop to his sides. he looks down at the floor for a second, running a hand through his already messy curls, before slowly looking back up at you. his expression is a nervous mix of terror and absolute, undiluted awe.

he steps toward you cautiously, as if approaching a wild animal.

"well," michael whispers, a weak, crooked little smile finally breaking through his tense expression. "you... uh. you certainly didn't hold back, did you?"

you cross your arms over your chest, glaring up at him with unamused, burning eyes. "shut up, michael. if you ever let her walk through that door again, you're the one packing your bags and heading back to hayvenhurst tonight."

michael lets out a soft, nervous laugh, closing the distance between you and wrapping his arms securely around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest despite your stiff posture. he buries his face in the crook of your neck, pressing a warm, apologetic kiss against your skin.

"i swear, i won't," he murmurs softly against your pulse, his arms tightening possessively around you. "nobody gets past the gate from now on. nobody. i only want you, you know that."

you let out a huff of breath, the rigid anger finally melting out of your shoulders as your hands instinctively find their way to the back of his shirt, pulling him closer.

"you're an idiot, jackson," you mutter against his hair.

"yeah," michael whispers, a soft, fond smile pressing against your neck. "your idiot."

michael lets out a soft, low chuckle against your neck, feeling the final traces of tension slowly drain out of your frame. he presses one last lingering kiss to your collarbone before pulling back just enough to look down into your face, his dark eyes wide, pleading, and entirely disarming.

"come on," he murmurs, his voice dropping into that smooth, velvety register that always threatens to undo your resolve. "don't stay mad at me, sweet girl. diana’s gone. it’s just us now. i’ll make it up to you, i swear."

you roll your eyes, giving his shoulder a firm, unamused shove, though you don't actually push him away. "get out of my kitchen, michael. you're lucky i don't lock you out on the balcony with the pigeons."

"with the pigeons," he echoes, a bright, helpless laugh escaping his lips as he trails right behind you like an overgrown, affectionate shadow. "you wouldn't. you love me too much."

"keep telling yourself that," you mutter, turning on your heel and walking briskly toward the kitchen counter.

you need to do something with your hands. the lingering adrenaline from screaming at a pop legend in your own hallway is still buzzing aggressively under your skin, making your nerves feel raw and frayed. you tie your hair back into a messy knot, snatching a cutting board and a knife from the rack with a little more force than strictly necessary. you decide to throw together a quick, chaotic midnight snack just to keep yourself occupied—slicing up blocks of sharp cheddar, a handful of grapes, and tearing into a box of crackers.

michael leans his hips lazily against the edge of the marble counter right beside you, watching your every move with those heavy, adoring eyes. all the arrogant superstar posturing is entirely gone, replaced by a soft, domestic vulnerability that is somehow even more dangerous.

without a word, he slides closer, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind. he rests his chin heavily on your shoulder, his warm breath fanning against your neck as he sways you slightly to a rhythm only he can hear.

"you look so pretty when you're murderous," he whispers teasingly, his thumb tracing slow, soothing circles against your hip bone through the thin cotton of your shorts. "seriously, though. my heart was beating like a drum. i thought you were going to physically throw her off the balcony."

"i considered it," you snap back, though your voice lacks any real bite.

instead of answering, michael sighs softly, pressing his face deeper into the crook of your neck, his lips brushing against your skin with feather-light reverence. he acts like a tired, clingy child seeking comfort after a long day, his long arms locked tightly around you as if he's terrified you might actually push him out the door.

"mm... you smell so good," he mumbles, his nose nudging lazily against your jawline. "stop being mad at me, baby. please? look at me."

when you refuse to turn your head, stubbornness keeping your chin tilted forward as you aggressively chop a piece of cheese, michael groans softly—a pathetic, melodramatic sound—and presses a long, lingering kiss right over your pulse point.

"i'm being ignored," he whines quietly into your skin, his arms squeezing you a little tighter, his fingers splaying across your stomach. "by my own girlfriend. on a tuesday. this is tragic."

you let out an exasperated breath, abandoning the knife on the cutting board entirely. you've had entirely too much chaos for one day, and watching diana ross waltz into your living room like she owned the place has completely fried your last remaining nerve endings.

you turn around in his arms, trapping him against the edge of the counter, but instead of answering his sweet pleadings, you reach past him to the high cabinet behind his head. your fingers wrap around a heavy crystal bottle of amber bourbon that has been sitting untouched for months.

michael blinks, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise as you pull the bottle down.

"whoa," he says, his hands sliding up to rest softly on your lower back. "hey, easy. what are we celebrating? the successful eviction of diana ross?"

"yes," you say flatly, unscrewing the cap with a sharp twist.

you don't even bother reaching for a glass. you raise the heavy glass bottle straight to your lips, tipping your head back and taking a long, burning swallow of the harsh alcohol. the liquid hits your throat like liquid fire, making your eyes water instantly as it burns a hot, fiery trail straight down into your chest.

you gasp softly, lowering the bottle and wiping the back of your hand across your mouth, shivering as the alcohol immediately starts to take the sharp edge off your frayed nerves.

michael stares at you, his dark eyes wide with a mixture of shock and utter amusement. a slow, crooked, incredibly fond smile spreads across his face.

"jesus, babe," he breathes, letting out a low whistle as he reaches out, gently taking the heavy bottle from your hand before you can take a second, ill-advised gulp. he sets it safely out of reach on the counter. "hardcore. are you trying to numb the pain or burn a hole straight through your stomach?"

"shut up," you whisper, your voice a little raspy from the burn, leaning your forehead forward until it rests heavily against his chest.

michael’s expression softens instantly. all traces of teasing vanish, replaced by a deep, aching tenderness. his arms wrap completely around you, pulling you flush against his frame, burying you in his warmth.

"hey," he whispers softly, his hand coming up to cup the back of your head, his fingers gently threading through your hair, massaging your scalp with slow, rhythmic strokes. "i'm sorry. i know it's overwhelming. having my world crash into yours like that... it's a lot. i'm sorry she ruined our afternoon."

you close your eyes, letting out a long, shaky exhale as the alcohol begins to pool warmly in your veins, relaxing the tight knots in your shoulders.

"she's exhausting," you murmur against his shirt.

"i know baby..." michael agrees quietly, kissing the top of your head. "she really is. but she's gone now. and i'm right here."

he shifts slightly, lifting you up effortlessly by your hips so you're sitting right on the edge of the marble kitchen counter, bracketing you in with his arms. he steps between your thighs, pressing his body close, his dark eyes searching your face with quiet, unwavering devotion.

"no more interruptions," he promises softly, his thumb brushing a stray lock of hair away from your cheek. "just you and me. do whatever you want to me. yell at me more, drink my whiskey, make me stand in the corner... i won't complain about any of it. just look at me like that."

the burning warmth of the bourbon still lingers on the back of your tongue, loosening your inhibitions and stripping away every last trace of your usual defensive armor. sitting there on the edge of the cool marble counter with michael standing flush between your thighs, the heavy, chaotic noise of the world outside finally fades into absolute nothingness.

you keep your hands resting flat against his chest, feeling the steady, heavy thud of his heart beneath the thin fabric of his shirt. you stare down at the buttons for a long moment, watching the way his dark, heavy-lidded gaze never leaves your face, before you let out a shaky, frustrated sigh.

"i was jealous," you mutter, the words tumbling out of your mouth before you can stop them. you lift your chin, glaring at him with a mix of stubborn defiance and reluctant vulnerability. "okay? there. you happy? i was so furious i wanted to throw her out the window, and it wasn't just because she's obnoxious. i hated the way she looked at you. i hated the way she touched you."

michael’s breath hitches. the playful, teasing softness in his expression instantly shifts into something deep, resonant, and intensely moved.

"maybe it's the whiskey," you continue, your voice dropping into a low, defensive murmur as you look away, your fingers curling into the collar of his shirt. "or maybe i'm just sick of pretending. i don't like it, michael. i hate that she still has that kind of access to you. i hate sharing you, even for a second, with someone who acts like she still owns a piece of your life."

michael doesn't interrupt. he listens to every single word, his dark eyes shining with a profound, aching tenderness that makes your throat tighten.

slowly, deliberately, he reaches up. his long, slender fingers slide under your chin, his thumb gently catching your lower lip, pressing softly until your mouth parts just enough. with infinite slowness, he slides his index finger past your lips, letting you taste the warmth of his skin, a grounding, sensual gesture that silences your racing thoughts and anchors you entirely to him.

you let out a soft, involuntary gasp against his finger, your eyes snapping back up to meet his.

"hey," he whispers, his voice thick, velvety, and dripping with an absolute, unwavering sincerity. he slowly pulls his finger away, resting his hand flat against your cheek, his thumb tracing your cheekbone with reverent slowness. "look at me."

you look at him, drowning in the dark, soulful depths of his gaze.

"you never have to apologize for being jealous, baby," michael says softly, his voice dropping into a low, intimate hum that vibrates right through your chest. "and you sure as hell don't have to share me with anyone. not diana, not anyone else on this earth."

he shifts closer, pressing his forehead gently against yours so your breaths mingle in the quiet space between you.

"i'm not going to lie to you and tell her to drop off the face of the earth overnight," michael murmurs, his tone honest and open, refusing to feed you empty promises. "she's been in my life a long time, and in this industry... completely cutting off history like that is complicated. there are business circles, shared mentors, years of ties i can't just snap with a pair of scissors. but..."

he pauses, pulling back just an inch so he can look deep into your eyes, his expression turning fierce, absolute, and entirely devoted.

"that doesn't mean she gets a key to our life," he continues, his voice firm and steady. "it doesn't mean she ever walks uninvited through that front door again, and it damn sure doesn't mean she gets to touch me or disrespect you. i'm going to set boundaries, crystal clear ones, and keep a wide, unbridgeable distance. because none of that history matters, sweetheart. none of those years, none of the red carpets, none of the applause. none of it compares to what we have right here."

he reaches down, lacing his fingers tightly through yours, pressing your palm flat against his racing heart.

"you are my present, and you are every single thing i want for my future," michael whispers, leaning in to press a slow, worshipful kiss to your lips. it’s not the bruising, frantic clash of the coat room, nor is it the playful tease of a few hours ago. it is soft, lingering, and brimming with a quiet promise. "you're the only one i see. believe me?"

your chest swells, the last remaining walls of your heart completely crumbling under the weight of his words. you let out a soft, watery laugh, lifting your hands to cup his face, your fingers tangling into his dark curls.

"yeah," you whisper against his mouth, a wide, genuine smile breaking across your face. "i believe you, jackson."

michael lets out a breath of pure relief, a dazzling, radiant smile lighting up his entire face before he pulls you forward into a deep, crushing hug, burying his face in your neck as he lifts you effortlessly down from the counter, holding you close like you are the only real thing in a world full of noise.

he keeps his arms wrapped securely around your waist, burying his face in your shoulder for a long moment as if he never wants to let you go. the lingering heaviness of the afternoon completely dissolves, replaced by a warm, quiet stillness that fills the sunlit kitchen.

slowly, michael pulls back just enough to look down at you, a soft, fond smile playing at the corners of his mouth. he reaches out, gently brushing a stray lock of hair behind your ear.

"you know..." michael starts, his voice dropping into a teasing, lighthearted register as a familiar, mischievous glint dances in his dark eyes. "i still can't believe how we got here."

you raise an eyebrow, crossing your arms loosely over your chest as a small, amused smirk touches your lips. "oh, really? and how is that, pop star? are you regretting the day you decided to ambush me in a coat room?"

"never," michael answers instantly, his tone turning fiercely sincere before he laughs, shaking his head. "no, i just mean... think about it. six months ago, we genuinely looked like we wanted to murder each other on live television. you called my music video a twenty-minute ego trip about a graveyard, and i told the press your high notes sounded like a cat being put through a paper shredder."

you let out a loud, genuine laugh, the absurdity of it hitting you all over again. "wait, did you actually say that to the press? i thought the journalists made that up!"

"i definitely said it," michael admits with zero shame, flashing that dazzling, crooked grin that used to drive you insane. "i was bitter, okay? you blocked my single at number one. i was wounded. i spent whole nights plotting how to ruin your next red carpet appearance."

"wow. and here i thought you were just naturally insufferable," you retort, giving his chest a playful shove. "turns out you were actively plotting evil schemes like a cartoon villain."

"i was," michael chuckles, catching your hands and pulling you right back against him. "and look where it got us. from screaming matches at the grammys to domestic disputes over diana ross in less than two months. if someone told me at the beginning of the year that my fiercest rival would end up wearing my oversized t-shirts, stealing my whiskey, and threatening to throw my friends off the balcony..."

he pauses, letting out a soft, dreamy sigh as he rests his forehead gently against yours, his eyes shining with pure affection.

"...i probably would have bought you flowers a lot sooner."

you roll your eyes, though you can't stop the wide, fond smile from spreading across your face. "you are such a smooth talker, jackson. it's disgusting."

"only for you, baby," michael whispers, leaning down to press a soft, lingering kiss to the tip of your nose. "only for you."

michael chuckles softly against your skin, his hands still resting comfortably around your waist. he studies your face for a moment, noticing the lingering trace of frustration still flickering in your eyes from the whole diana ordeal.

"baby," he murmurs, his voice dropping into that sweet, concerned register that always melts your defenses. "tell me what you want. what do i need to do right now to make my girl feel completely better?"

you look up at him, a mischievous, daring little spark flashing in your eyes. you turn back toward the counter, grab the heavy crystal bourbon bottle again, and take another long, burning swallow straight from the glass, letting out a soft gasp as the liquor warms you up.

instead of putting the bottle down, you hold it out toward him with a raised eyebrow.

"you want to make me feel better?" you murmur, a playful, bratty edge to your voice. "drink this first. prove you're not just a smooth-talking coward."

michael lets out a low, helpless laugh, shaking his head. "you're ruthless, you know that?"

he takes the bottle from your hand, tipping his head back and taking a bold sip of his own, coughing slightly at the burn before flashing a lopsided, triumphant grin. "there. happy now?"

"not quite," you whisper, stepping closer and sliding your hands up over his shoulders, tangling your fingers into his hair. your voice drops to a soft, demanding purr right against his lips. "if you really want to erase the rest of this annoying day... get down on your knees and eat me, baby."

michael’s breath catches sharply in his throat. his dark eyes widen, a sudden wave of heat rushing straight to his cheeks as a deep, gorgeous blush creeps up his neck. for all his swagger on stage, the raw, unfiltered boldness of your demand completely short-circuits him for a second.

"oh..." michael breathes out, a nervous, breathless laugh escaping him as his hands tighten instinctively on your hips. "you... wow. you really don't play fair, do you?"

"are you going to do it, or do i have to drink the whole bottle by myself?" you tease, a smug little smile touching your lips.

michael doesn't answer with words. his dark eyes darken with sudden, hungry intent. he drops to his knees right there on the kitchen floor between your feet, sliding his hands up the backs of your thighs.

his face hovers just inches from you, and you can see the adorable, shy flush still dusting his cheekbones. he leans in, pressing a series of soft, lingering kisses up the smooth skin of your inner thigh, his lips feather-light and reverent, making you shiver.

"anything for you," he whispers softly against your sensitive skin.

without breaking eye contact, his fingers slide slowly up your inner thigh, tracing the sensitive skin until they find you completely soaked, hot, and aching.

a sharp, breathless gasp tears straight from your throat, your fingers instantly flying up to tangle tightly into the long, dark curls of his hair as he dips two fingers inside you with a slow, deliberate stroke. the sheer friction of it sends a violent, electric shockwave straight through your core, your hips instinctively bucking forward against his hand.

"michael... oh, fuck..." you breathe out, your voice trembling as your head falls back against the edge of the counter.

michael groans, a low, appreciative sound vibrating deep in his chest as he watches your face twist with pleasure. his thumb sweeping firmly over your sensitive bundle of nerves while his fingers curl lazily inside you, stretching you open. every slow, deliberate push of his knuckles has your vision blurring at the edges.

and then, his warm mouth presses softly against you.

the sensation of his lips parting over you—hot, wet, and utterly worshipful—makes your entire body jerk. you let out a long, high-pitched moan, your heels digging hard into his shoulders.

"michael, oh god, baby—" you whimper, chanting his name like a prayer as the intense, spiraling heat begins to build low in your stomach.

michael pulls back just a fraction of an inch, looking up at you through his thick lashes. he is completely undone, his cheeks flushed, his lips wet and shining. with a slow, deliberate stroke of his tongue, he teases you mercilessly, swirling across your most sensitive spot while his fingers pump inside you in a steady, maddening rhythm.

he lets out a soft, pleased whimper against your skin, feeling you tighten around him in response.

"you like that, baby?" he murmurs against you, his voice thick, breathy, and dripping with adoration. "so wet for me... say my name again. let me hear you, baby."

"shit—please, fuck—michael!" you cry out, your hips rolling frantically against his mouth as the friction pushes you closer and closer to the edge.

he doesn't let up. he quickens the slide of his fingers, matching the wet, desperate rhythm of his tongue, completely erasing every last shred of stress, anger, and the memory of diana ross until there is nothing left in the entire world except the sound of your own breathless moans and the heavy, worshipful heat of michael between your legs.

PART 1.

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 — mature era michael jackson x black 𝒇!reader

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 — you’re a college student who decided to get a side job as a babysitter for a couple months. you start working for this single dad, but little did you know.. he started catching huge feelings for you.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 — smut, 18+, a bit of fluff, fingering, pussy eating, finger sucking, porn w plot, older! michael, flirting, kissing, handjob! m doing it to himself while thinking of you, just a bit filthy.

a/n — this story is inspired by @fictionchic on tiktok 𑣲

i knew, of course i knew my boss liked me. the way he would stare a little too long when i walked into the kitchen in the morning. the way his voice got softer whenever he said my name. the way he always found a reason to stay in the room a few extra minutes when i was putting the kids down for bed. michael never said it out loud, but it was there in the quiet looks and the careful distance he tried to keep between us.

i’d been babysitting for him for almost three months. college was expensive and the pay was good, plus the mansion was beautiful and the three kids were actually sweet once you got used to their different personalities.

prince was the oldest, quiet, observant, always the first to notice when something felt off. paris was the middle child, dramatic, constantly asking questions and bossing her brothers around.

blanket was the youngest, still small enough to climb into my lap without asking and fall asleep against my chest with sticky fingers. michael was a single dad who worked long hours making music and he trusted me more than most people.

i never expected the way my stomach flipped every time he came home early and smiled at me like he was relieved i was still there.

that night started normal. i made the kids dinner, spaghetti and garlic bread because it was the only thing all three would eat without complaining. after, i helped prince with his homework at the big kitchen table while paris colored loudly and blanket tried to eat the crayons. baths came next. prince went first and was in and out in ten minutes.

paris took forever, talking the entire time about school drama. blanket splashed water everywhere and made me laugh until my sides hurt. finally i got them settled in their rooms. prince fell asleep after one chapter of his book.

paris needed two stories and a glass of water. blanket took the longest, but eventually his little breathing evened out against my shoulder before i laid him down.

the house was quiet when i stepped into the hallway. the only light came from under michael’s bedroom door. i was heading downstairs to clean up the kitchen when i noticed it was cracked open.

the soft sound of his breathing and a low, broken moan stopped me cold. i shouldn’t have looked. i knew i shouldn’t have looked. but my feet didn’t move.

he was on the bed, shirt off, pants pushed down just enough. one hand was wrapped around his dick, stroking slow and tight. his head was tilted back, his black hair messy against the pillow, eyes closed. and he was saying my name. quiet, like a secret he didn’t mean to say out loud. over and over while his hand moved faster.

my heart slammed so hard i almost dropped the laundry basket in my hands. i pulled the door shut as quietly as i could and hurried downstairs, face burning, pretending i hadn’t seen a single thing. i cleaned the kitchen on autopilot, washed the dishes twice, and finally went to the guest room i stayed in when the nights ran late. sleep didn’t come easy.

the next morning was awkward as hell.

i was in the big kitchen making pancakes while the kids played on the floor with toys. prince was quietly building something with blocks in the corner.

paris was bossing blanket around, telling him which toys he was allowed to touch. blanket ignored her and tried to put a plastic dinosaur in his mouth.

michael walked in wearing a soft black shirt and sweatpants, his hair still a little damp from the shower. our eyes met for half a second and both of us looked away too fast.

“morning,” he said, voice a little rough.

“morning,” i answered, focusing hard on the pan. “pancakes are almost done. syrup’s on the table.”

he poured himself coffee and leaned against the counter, watching the kids instead of me. every time our hands almost brushed reaching for the same plate, the air got heavier. he cleared his throat once.

i almost spilled the syrup. neither of us mentioned last night. the kids kept talking over each other, completely unaware of the tension sitting between the adults in the room.

after breakfast he helped buckle them into the car and drove them to school. i stayed behind to clean up, heart still racing. when the front door opened again and i heard only one set of footsteps, my stomach dropped.

michael walked into the kitchen slowly, keys still in his hand. he set them down on the counter and looked at me for a long moment. the silence stretched.

“you saw me last night,” he said quietly. it wasn’t a question.

i swallowed, wiping my hands on a towel even though they were already dry. “i… i closed the door. i didn’t mean to walk in. i was just putting the laundry away and the door was open and—”

“i know.” he stepped closer, voice low. “i’ve been trying not to want you like that. you’re younger. you’re here for the kids. but i can’t stop thinking about you. it’s getting harder to pretend i don’t.”

the space between us disappeared. he reached out and brushed a curl behind my ear, fingers lingering against my cheek. then he kissed me. soft at first, testing, then deeper when i kissed him back. his hands slid down to my waist, pulling me closer until my back hit the edge of the counter.

“tell me to stop,” he whispered against my mouth.

i didn’t.

he lifted me onto the counter, pushed my skirt up, and dropped to his knees between my legs. his hands were careful but hungry as he pulled my panties to the side.

the first slow drag of his tongue made me gasp out loud. he licked me like he’d been thinking about it for weeks — long, thorough strokes from my entrance all the way up to my clit, then focused there, sucking gently while two fingers slid inside me.

“you taste even better than i imagined,” he murmured against me, voice filthy and soft at the same time. he curled his fingers just right, pumping them slow while his tongue worked in steady circles.

every time i moaned he answered with a quiet praise. “that’s it… let me hear you angel. i’ve been dying to make you feel good like this.”

he took his time. no rushing. just fingers and tongue until my thighs were shaking around his head and i came hard, one hand buried in his curls. he kept licking me through it, gentler now, then stood up and held his wet fingers to my lips.

“suck.” he said quietly.

i did, tasting myself while he watched me with dark eyes. he kissed me after, slow and deep, like he was still trying to convince himself this was real.

he rested his forehead against mine, breathing hard. “we shouldn’t do more than this yet,” he said. “not until we talk properly. but i needed to touch you. i couldn’t keep pretending.”

i nodded, still catching my breath. “okay.”

•°𓇼 Mature! Michael x Model! Reader

w.c 2,8k

Author notes: Toxic relationship dynamic, not established (on and off type of romance), messy messy messy, both playing in each others faces hehe, she’s a model and in her thirties (just for some background yk)

His heavy wool coat hit the floor with a dull, muffled thud. Michael didn’t look like a poised untouchable legend in that exact second; he looked like a man who spent the past two days of a Bel-Air suite, chain drinking chamomile tea while a slow-burning, ugly fury ate holes right through his heart. He let out a sharp breathe, one that sounded like a dry laugh that had no humor at all, and rubbed the back of his neck, his shoulders hunched tight under his black shirt.

“A billionaire?” his voice was tight and high pitched, a tone that was disgustingly laced with so much petty and acidity that made your stomach drop. He started pacing your pristine hardwood floor, loafers clicking like a ticking time bomb. Any one who had eyes could tell Michael was furious. His hand kept clenching and unclenching at his side. “You went out with a tech guy? What, did he rent out a stadium for you? Or is he just paying for your PR team’s attention now?”

You stiffened. The soft material of the armchair beneath you felt more present than ever. “Don’t start, Michael. You don’t get to look like that.”

“Like what?” he spun around, hid dark eyes flashed with a sudden, volatile spike of temper. He threw his hands up, voice cracking slightly on the edge of hysteria. “Like I care? I don’t care. Go ahead! Date the entire Fortune 500 list for all I care! Have him buy you yacht, put your face on every damn billboard from here to Tokyo! I’m just thrilled you found someone who has the time to take you to dinner, because apparently being with me is too much of a ‘secret’ for your taste!”

He was spiralling and you could clearly see it. Under his razor sharp sarcasm was that raw frantic panic he always tried to bury under a whisper. When Michael got jealous, he didn’t turn into a stoic protector, instead he turned messy, defensive and aggressively petty – lashing out because his absolute control of hi own little world had just been cracked open by a tabloid photo.

“If you hate it so much, you could have picked up the phone instead of sending your assistant to check my flight logs,” you snapped back, your own anger finally flaring up to match his.

Michael froze. For a second the color seemed to drain right out of his face, lips trembling open. That was a direct hit. You had seen the itinerary. You knew about the European socialite, the hotel bookings, the quiet rotation of women he kept in the background while he played house with you at wherever penthouse or hotel suite both your schedules allowed.

The apartment went dead silent.

Michael’s jaw clenched so hard a muscle ticked in his cheek. He looked away from you for the first time, eyes frantically darting around your living room as if looking for an escape route. You got him exactly where he hated to be: confronted. He hated it. He despised being cornered with his own messy and contradictory behaviour. For a very long agonizing moment, he looked like a cornered animal; all defensive and twitchy energy.

“Oh,” Michael muttered, his voice dropping instantly into a low whisper. He crossed his arms tightly over his chest, subconsciously shrinking himself, refusing to meet your eyes. “So that’s what this is about. You went and paraded yourself Manhattan with a walking cash cow because you went snooping through my papers and found a name you didn’t like.”

“I didn’t snoop Michael. It was sitting right—”

“No, you know what? Forget it,” he cut you off sharply, turning his back to you entirely and marching toward the window. He jammed his hands deep into his pocket, his shoulders shuddered with a mix of rage and embarrassment. “This is exactly why I don’t do this. This is why I keep things the way they are. You want a domestic little argument? You want me to sit here and play the jealous boyfriend and confess my sins? I’m not doing it.”

“Then leave!” Your voice cracked, the hurt bleeding right through your anger. You simply couldn’t believe him. “If I’m just a convenience, if I’m just another name on the list of girls you rotate through when you need someone to warm your bed or someone to play step mommy for you kids, walk out the door right now! Go back to hiding and leave me alone!”

Your words hung in the room like a physical blow.

Michael didn’t move. He stood completely rigid by the window, staring out at the New York skyline as the city lights hit the sharp angles of his face. His chest rose and fell in shallow, rapid breaths.

Inside his head though, the panic was deafening. She’s telling me to leave. She actually means it.

He hated himself for being messy. He hated that his jealousy had made him look pathetic, and he loathed even more that he couldn’t just brush it off and pretend he didn’t care. God knows how much he cares, but the thought of walking out that door — the thought of you actually staying with whoever rando you’re seeing, of someone else waking up next to the cold, beautiful face — made a hot, sick ache twist deep in his stomach. He didn’t want to communicate. And for once he hated that not everything is served to him on a golden plate. He wanted to run away, like he always did when things got too human. Instead, very slowly Michael turned around.

His eyes were bloodshot, swimming with a mixture of childish stubbornness and raw terror. He looked smaller all of a sudden. Just a deeply complicated emotionally fractured man standing with his heart in his hand.

“She doesn’t mean anything,” Michael croaked, his voice trembling slightly with suppressed anger and exhaustion.

You blinked, caught off guard by the abrupt shift, “What?”

“The girl on the itinerary,” he quipped quickly, turning around and crossing the room to hold your hands, “I didn’t sleep with her baby, she’s nothing serious… you know you’re the one for me and we love eachother—”

You pulled back sharply, your hands pressing flat against his chest to force some sort of distance between you.

“Are you actually hearing yourself right now?” your voice was dangerously low, dripping with a mixture of sheer disbelief and indignation.

Michael blinked, caught off guard by your resistance, his sweet pliant girl never said no, always knew how to be quiet, his hand still lingered awkwardly beside your waist. “What?”

“The audacity,” you hissed, letting out a dry incredulous laugh. “Let’s rewind the rulebook here Me. Jackson. Who was the one who spent the last eight months preaching about how we ‘can’t have a normal relationship’? who was the one making sure our schedules are locked down by a team of handlers so we only exist in secret?”

Michael’s jaw tightened. He opened his mouth to interrupt, but you cut him off and stepping right into his space. “You are!” you shot back, jabbing a finger against his chest. “You’re the one who wants it casual! You’re the one who keeps things compartmentalised! I accepted the rules you set. I played the part! But the second I actually go out and do the exact thing, the second someone looks at me they way you look at god knows how many woman, you show up here throwing a tantrum like a jealous highschooler?”

Michael flinched. The blunt, unapologetic truth of it hit him square in the chest, and for a second he looked genuinely offended that you were throwing his logic right back at him. He crossed his arms defensively, his shoulders hiking up towards his ears as a flush crept up his neck. “That is completely different,” he muttered, looking towards the ceiling.

“Oh, is it?” you scoffed, throwing up your hands in the air. “Please enlighten me. How so?”

“Because, because I didn’t go parading around downtown Manhattan for the paparazzi to drool over!” Michael snapped, his voice cracking in that messy wounded spike of frustration fuelled by his own delusion that he’s the victim here. He turned back to face you and gestured wildly to the front door. “I don’t call up public relations firms and set up photo ops with tech billionaires just to send a message! You did it on purpose to rile me up!’

“You absolute self-centred jerk! I went on a date because I’m allowed to have a fucking life, god forbid not everything is about you and your little conspiracy theories!” You fired back, voice rising to match his. “You don’t get to lock me away in a hotel room, keep me as your dirty little secret whenever its convenient for your schedule, and then throw a fit when I remember I’m a single woman!”

The jab about being a “dirty little secret” landed like a physical blow, wiping the defensive anger right off his face and replacing it with a look of genuine shock. He hated being called out. Even more he hated when his carefully constructed world of control was exposed as selfish.

For a long moment, he just stood there as he bit the inside of his cheek, his chest heaving under his black shirt. He looked away, his jaw working overtime as he wrestled with his pride. He knew he was doing you dirty. He knew you were completely right. He knew he was a massive hypocrite, demanding total emotional availability and loyalty from the shadows while offering nothing complete in return.

That realisation made him furious. Not at you but at himself, and at the impossible suffocation reality of his life.

“Fine,” he finally muttered, his voice dropping into a harsh whisper. He turned on his heel, running a hand frantically through his loose hair, refusing to meet your eyes. He started pacing to the kitchenette, his shoulders rigid. “Fine. You’re right. I’m a hypocrite. Go ahead. Call your billionaire back. Tell him you’re available for the next flight to Paris.”

“You’re impossible Michael.”

“I know I’m impossible!” he shot back, spinning around instantly, his eyes flashing with a desperate vulnerability. “You think I want to be like this?” you think I enjoy sitting in a hotel suite going crazy over a picture of some guy touching your waist? I hate its! I hate that I can’t just take you out to dinner like a normal person without fifty cameras flashing in our faces! I hate the I’m selfish enough to want you to myself, but too cowardly to give you what you actually deserve!”

The abrupt pivot from pretty, defensive rage to self agonising self-awareness left you speechless. Michael stood in the middle of your living room like a man standing on the edge of a cliff of his own making. He didn’t look like a global icon anymore. He looked messy, complicated and utterly defenceless.

He let out a shaky breath, running his hand that refused to stop shaking down his face.

“Don’t go out with him, I don’t want you going out with him,” Michael whispered in an achingly desperate way. You almost cursed yourself for sympathising with him. He finally forced himself to look at you. And there he was, eyes giving his entire soul away for you to look at. He was terrified and more so confused. He knew he wanted this, wanted you, but God knows he’s too messed up to man up and do the right thing. “I know I don’t have the right to say it. Yes, I’m a self-centred jerk and I’m being completely unfair. I don’t care. Baby please…please it makes me sick.”

Michael.

“If the rules are that we’re casual, that there’s no future and no commitment, then those rules apply both ways, Michael. I’m not sitting around in an empty apartment waiting for a private jet assignment while you juggle your life and whatever else you have going on. If you want to keep things like this, fine. But I am going to live my life. I’ll go out with whoever I want, and I'll sleep with whoever I want, whenever I want.”

You paused, letting the words cut straight through the air between you. “Until you actually decide to man up, deal with your baggage and offer something real instead of expecting me to be your convenient little escape.”

A dark, volatile flash of pure, unadulterated rage crossed Michael’s features. The idea that you would willingly let another man touch you, let another man into your bed, completely short-circuited his system. It went against every instinct of possession, ego, and deep-seated insecurity he possessed.

“You wouldn't,” he scoffed, a bitter hysterical laugh breaking past his lips as he shook his head, backing away a step before pacing back toward you. “You wouldn't do that. You're just saying that to punish me.”

“Try me,” you replied coldly, tilting your chin up. “Watch the news tomorrow. Or next week. See how much I care about your little arrangement when I'm on the front page of every tabloid in the city with someone who actually looks at me in public.”

That was the breaking point. Michael’s composure completely shattered. All the carefully cultivated grace and soft-spoken mystique all evaporated in a single, explosive second. He crossed the distance between you so fast it made you gasp. His hands shot out, gripping you roughly by the upper arms, not violently, but with a desperate, crushing force that practically vibrated with panic and fury. He pulled you hard against his chest, towering over you, his breathing ragged and hot against your skin.

“Don't you dare,” Michael hissed, his voice trembling with a mixture of rage and pathetic desperation, his face just inches from yours. “Don't you dare talk like that. You are not going out with anyone else. You are not letting anyone else touch you. Do you hear me?”

“Let go of me, Michael,” you snapped, struggling against his grip, though his fingers only tightened, anchoring you to him as if letting go meant losing his last tether to reality.

“No!” his voice cracked. The dark eyes staring down at you were wide and frantic. Completely unhinged by the density of his outburst . “You think you can just play games with me? You think I'm just going to stand here and let some other guy walk around with you while you pretend you don't care about what we are?”

“What even are we! You were married twice before me so why is it such a scandal when it comes to me? You let me in your little life when time allows you, then shut me off as soon as you’re not in the mood to deal with me as if I’m just a circus clown always preparing for her next show to entertain you! You're the one who built the walls!” tears of pure frustration pricked the corners of your eyes, but you blinked them back fiercely, refusing to let him see you break. “You're the one who keeps things in the dark! You don't get to demand exclusivity when you refuse to give me a place in your life in the light!”

Michael stared down at you, his chest heaving, the sheer weight of his own hypocrisy crashing down on him like a tidal wave. He knew you were right. Every single word you said was a mirror held up to his own cowardice, and it was choking him. He didn't know how to fix it. But the terrifying thought of you walking away and opening your door to someone that isn’t him terrified him far more than any tabloid headline ever could.

His grip slowly slackened, his fingers sliding down your arms until his hands rested trembling against your waist.

“I can't just... change everything overnight,” Michael whispered, his voice dropping into a ragged plea, all the anger completely bleeding out of him. His forehead dropped forward, resting heavily against your shoulder as he let out a shuddering breath. “You know what my life is. You know what they do to me. If I bring you into the light, they'll tear you to pieces. I'm trying to protect you... and I'm trying to protect myself.”

“Then keep hiding,” your voice colder than you wanted, though your heart was hammering frantically against your ribs beneath his hands. “Keep your secrets, Michael. But don't expect me to wait around in the dark for you to figure out what you want.”

He didn't answer. He just held you tighter, burying his face against your neck, wrapping his arms around you with a desperate, suffocating finality. Knowing that no matter how hard he tried to control it, the messy reality he had created was finally slipping right through his fingers.

Oh messy Mike how I love you. I had toooo much fun writing this 🤭

hair color:

favorite color:

favorite drink:

one thing you love about yourself:

if you could be any animal, what would you be?

dream place to visit:

what's one thing you're looking forward to right now?

your biggest dream:

song that's permanently on your repeat:

10 people i'd like to get to know better tag game

• hair color — brownish-ish black. still fading from when I died it a deep red

• favorite color — pink, light blue, and black !!

• favorite drink — passion fruit/mango lemonade is literally my kryptonite

• one thing you love about yourself — the way I think about and process things.

• if you could be any animal, what would you be ? AN OTTER. they’re so freaking cuteeeee ☹️☹️

• dream place to visit — italy or countryside of france

• what's one thing you're looking forward to right now? MY MF BDAYYYYYY (which is today 😋)

• your biggest dream — to find pure happiness and hold onto it, and be rich asf

• song that's permanently on your repeat — too many to say. imma do a top 3 of just this week alone

follow me x rochelle jordan

rent free x sailorrr

I just died x amerie

ℋ𝒶𝒾𝓇 𝒞ℴ𝓁ℴ𝓇༯ a very deep almost black-brown with blue chunky highlights(literally just had red last week😭)

ℱ𝒶𝓋ℴ𝓇𝒾𝓉ℯ 𝒞ℴ𝓁ℴ𝓇༯ Red & Pink.

ℱ𝒶𝓋ℴ𝓇𝒾𝓉ℯ 𝒹𝓇𝒾𝓃𝓀: Most sparkling water & lemonade/ strawberry lemonade.

𝒪𝓃ℯ 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃ℊ 𝓎ℴ𝓊 𝓁ℴ𝓋ℯ 𝒶𝒷ℴ𝓊𝓉 𝓎ℴ𝓊𝓇𝓈ℯ𝓁𝒻༯ My ability to read intentions and attitudes

ℐ𝒻 𝓎ℴ𝓊 𝒸ℴ𝓊𝓁𝒹 𝒷ℯ 𝒶𝓃𝓎 𝒶𝓃𝒾𝓂𝒶𝓁 𝓌𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓌ℴ𝓊𝓁𝒹 𝓎ℴ𝓊 𝒷ℯ༯ A snake or Panther.

𝒜 𝒹𝓇ℯ𝒶𝓂 𝓅𝓁𝒶𝒸ℯ 𝓉ℴ 𝓋𝒾𝓈𝒾𝓉༯ Thailand, Vietnam, & Italy.

𝒪𝓃ℯ 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃ℊ 𝓎ℴ𝓊𝓇 𝓁ℴℴ𝓀𝒾𝓃ℊ 𝒻ℴ𝓇𝓌𝒶𝓇𝒹 𝓉ℴ 𝓇𝓃༯ Going to the Orlando metro area with my man and my best friend.

𝒴ℴ𝓊𝓇 𝒷𝒾ℊℊℯ𝓈𝓉 𝒹𝓇ℯ𝒶𝓂༯ Fulfillment, meaning, and peace. Also to become an actress but also a figure for other black women and guide us till I can't anymore.

𝒮ℴ𝓃ℊ 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉'𝓈 𝓅ℯ𝓇𝓂𝒶𝓃ℯ𝓃𝓉𝓁𝓎 ℴ𝓃 𝓇ℯ𝓅ℯ𝒶𝓉༯ I literally can't choose but artist that I'm rarely gonna skip are: Miguel, Beyoncé, Megan Thee Stallion, Iyla, & Arctic Moneys.

Okay so boom!

hair color: brown

favorite color: lavender

favorite drink: pineapple fanta

one thing you love about yourself: my drive for determination, even if it means tiring myself out

if you could be any animal, what would you be?: a panda

dream place to visit: Tokyo japan

what's one thing you're looking forward to right now?: my new job! THANK GOD!

your biggest dream: to find peace and stability.

Song that's permanently on your repeat: I have too many so...

Crash out by Tinashe

Hot yoga by Domani

Kehlani by Kehlani

And all pride aside by kwn

𓏲 hair colour: brown

𓏲 favourite colour(s): maroons & purples

𓏲 favourite drink(s): green tea and & mango juice mm

𓏲 one thing you love about yourself: my resilience:>

𓏲 if you could be any animal, what would you be? hmm idk a cat maybe or a unicorn!!

𓏲 dream place to visit: so many! i'd like to travel to as many places in the world as i can

𓏲 one thing you're looking forward to right now? going to sleep nod nod

𓏲 my biggest dream: contentment w myself & the life ill live

𓏲 song permanently on your repeat: hmmm idk tho the last song i listened to was goodbye, my danish sweetheart by mitski

𑣲𝄞 hair color : black

𑣲𝄞 favorite color : alice blue & pink

𑣲𝄞 favorite drink(s) : horchata & dr pepper

𑣲𝄞 one thing you love about yourself : hmmmm my fashion sense (its not consistent at all and thats why i love it)

𑣲𝄞 if you can be an animal, what would you be? : a possum :D

𑣲𝄞 dream place to visit : india and ireland

𑣲𝄞 one thing you're looking forward to : to finally be rid of church boy forever :D

𑣲𝄞 my biggest dream : to finish and graduate college. and become a counselor 🥹

𑣲𝄞 songs on repeat : free by 6lack, radar by lil hero, 3:16am by jhené aiko, champagne coast by blood orange, when the night calls by blood cultures & fantasy by dye (i never get tired of this song)

hair colour: dark brown (my roots are black tho they're growing out lol)

favourite colour: pink, blue, dark brown, white

favourite drinks: any kind of smoothie, apple juice, lychee tea

one thing you love about yourself: naturally have a lot of empathy?

if you can be an animal, what would you be?: a humpback whale (bc i like them but also i kinda wanna mess with orcas)

dream place to visit: wherever whales are, i wanna see a whale in this lifetime

one thing you're looking forward to: traveling with my friendss

my biggest dream: creating a safe space for queer people and being happy with my friends and and uh seeing a humpback whale irl

songs on repeat: kiss n tell - aespa, when it rains - paramore, crash out - tinashe, switchblade - beabadoobee, deep love - split end, さよならロストジェネレイション - asian kung-fu generation, anyway - ephraim, 明弦音 - MyGO!!!!!

♥︎ Hair color: Brown!!! <3

♥︎ Favorite color: PINK!!! NO OTHER COLOR CAN EVER STEAL HER THRONE, MY HEART BELONGS TO HER FOREVER 😭

♥︎ Favorite drink: Kolashanpan/Cola Champagne! Water too ofc

♥︎ One thing you love about yourself: How forgiving I am

♥︎ If you could be any animal, what would you be: A BUNNY!!! A little brown holland lop :3

♥︎ Dream place to visit: EL SALVADOR!!! 🇸🇻

♥︎ One thing you're looking forward to right now: The beach!!!

♥︎ Your biggest dream: Peace, stability, meaningful friendships, achieve my dream wardrobe and to become a geneticist!

♥︎ Song that's permanently on your repeat: Bidi Bidi Bom Bom by Selena!

☆ hair color: black with blonde tips, but i will be dying it another color very soon

☆ favorite color: any and all shades of blue!

☆ favorite drink: hibiscus tea 🤤

☆ one thing you love about yourself: my madness creativity 🌚

☆ if i could be an animal: a perigrine falcon definetely, or a kestrel

☆ dream place to visit; BRAZIL 🇧🇷🇧🇷🇧🇷 or anywhere in the carribean honestly

☆ one thing you're looking forward to: seeing my sister after 2 years!!!! i'm so excited

☆ your biggest dream: being able to make music that helps others. and a regulated nervous system 😭

☆ song that's permanently on repeat: Options by Doja Cat or Off the Wall by Michael Jackson!

☆ hair colour: teal, blonde and brown - i got a cleo denile dye

☆ favorite colour: pink or smoky blue!

☆ favorite drink: bubble tea

☆ one thing you love about yourself: my singing voice!!

☆ if i could be an animal: a meerkat

☆ dream place to visit: would love to visit india!!

☆ one thing you're looking forward to: performing remember the time in paris!!

☆ your biggest dream: broadway star

☆ song that's permanently on repeat: remember the time by michael jackson

let's get to know each other + cure the boredom a little

• hair color: Dark brown

• favorite color: maroon

• favorite drink: fanta fruit twist

• one thing you love about yourself: my empathy

• if you could be any animal, what would you be? A giraffe, not only because i’m tall but i think they’re so cute!

• dream place to visit: hawaii

• what's one thing you're looking forward to right now? Going to university

• your biggest dream: 24/7 regulated nervous system.😭

• song that's permanently on your repeat: ghosts (my fav mj song)

𑣲 . hair color: dark brown + blonde highlights

𑣲 . favorite color: pink

𑣲 . favorite drink: fanta orange

𑣲 . one thing you love about yourself: my smile

𑣲 . if you could be any animal what would you be?: a cat

𑣲. dream place to visit: paris

𑣲. what’s one thing you’re looking forward to right now?: seeing my bf on friday

𑣲 . your biggest dream: becoming a lawyer

𑣲. song that’s permanently on repeat: lyin king by jhene aiko & p.y.t by mj

౨ৎ˚ hair color: still black from when i combed out my locs

౨ৎ˚ favorite color: plum

౨ৎ˚ favorite drink: coca cola!

౨ৎ˚ one thing you love about yourself: my face :)

౨ৎ˚ if you could be any animal what would you be?: a jag

౨ৎ˚ dream place to visit: italy

౨ৎ˚ what's one thing you're looking forward to right now?: this fall semester

౨ৎ˚ your biggest dream: being a rich woman, traveling the world, no kids

౨ৎ˚ song that's permanently on repeat: crush by solange, damned by miguel, be like a woman by chris rainbow, i belong to you by rome. i can’t help it by michael, IDK IDK I CANT PICK ONE 😫

hair color: dyed it sm, but currently brown.

favorite color: pink & brown

favorite drink: passion fruit juice or caipirinhas

one thing you love about yourself: my lips or dimples

if you could be any animal, what would you be? a monkey ngl

dream place to visit: rio de janeiro, brazil

what's one thing you're looking forward to right now? eating smth & taking a nap lmaooo

your biggest dream: to live by the beach

song that's permanently on your repeat:

the lady in my life — michael jackson

only when i’m dreaming — minnie riperton

borderline — solange

come back to me — janet jackson

pink + white — frank ocean

summer soft — stevie wonder

| hair color: black

| favorite color: teal and coral

| favorite drink: Shirley temple

| one thing you love about yourself: my mindset

| your biggest dream: helping kids feel seen towards their parents

| song that’s currently on repeat:

everything is embarrassing - sky ferreira

pyt demo ver. - michael jackson

the feeling - steve lacy

blow - Beyoncé

hair color: black

favorite color: blue, black, and brown

favorite drink: dr pepper😋

one thing you love about yourself: my hair

if you could be any animal, what would you be?: definitely a cheetah

dream place to visit: Santorini, Greece

what's one thing you're looking forward to right now? a nap and my nail appointment

your biggest dream: to move out of state

song that's permanently on your repeat:

porcelain — Lloyd

wasted love freestyle — Jhene Aiko

cranes in the sky — Solange

morning dew — Beyonce

vixen — Miguel

dirty diana — Michael Jackson

Hair color: Dark brown

Favorite color: Black, purple, blue, pink(depend how I’m feeling)

Favorite drink: Sweet tea and Coke Zero

One thing you love about yourself: My smile

If you could be any animal, what would it be? A panda!!

Dream place to visit: Japan and Paris

What’s one thing you’re looking forward to right now? Going back to college and my hair appt💔

Biggest dream: To travel the world

Song that’s permanently on repeat: Do what you do-Jermaine Jackson

• hair color: dark brown

• favorite color: brown, green, and pink <3

• favorite drink: cran-grape

• one thing you love about yourself: the way i can be myself without gaf what anyone thinks

• if you could be any animal, what would you be? a sloth lmfao

• dream place to visit: japan

• what's one thing you're looking forward to right now? the way i'm abt to doomscroll on tiktok for hours when i should be asleep 🙂‍↕️

• your biggest dream: to not have to live to work and work to live ugh

• song(s) that's permanently on your repeat:

love by kendrick lamar ft zacari / anna mae by summer walker / swim good by frank ocean

and mj/jacksons gets their own section LMFAO

lady in my life / sunset driver / shake your body (down to the ground) 7" version specifically / lovely one

* hair color: originally black but rn I’m a blondieeee 😙

* favorite color: blue, red, and neutrals (browns and greens!)

* favorite drink: ginger ale

* one thing you love about yourself: I love my love for music, so much so I decided to go to school for it twice 😭

* if you could be any animal, what would you be? a panda

* dream place to visit: iceland or greece (or japan, im indecisive)

* what's one thing you're looking forward to right now? I’m going to a disco on Saturday and I’m so excited to dress up!

* your biggest dream: to be rich and enjoying all the beautiful things the world has to offer

* song(s) that's permanently on your repeat: (can you tell I’m in my 70’s funk/disco era rn? 😭) do I do by stevie wonder / sing a song by earth, wind & fire / one nation under a groove by funkadelic / can’t let go by earth, wind & fire /

i loved @sunsetdrvr putting the mj section so ill keep it going! mj/jacksons songs that’s permanently on your repeat:

liberian girl / will you be there/ get on the floor / forever came today / all i do is think of you / rock with you / i can’t help it

thank you for the tag @cannonindeez

hair color: currently a mix of red/ginger

* favorite color: green, purple, yellow, deep brown, red

* favorite drink: thai iced tea (and pepsi zero dont whack me thanks!)

* one thing you love about yourself: my heart, i truly love my family and community with a fierceness that was instilled in me from the women in my family.

* if you could be any animal, what would you be? lowkey a bird so i could soar from place to place

* dream place to visit: there's too many. japan, france, italy, maldives, morocco, ireland, switzerland

* what's one thing you're looking forward to right now? relaxing this weekend i have been outside consistently and mama needs to stay home!

* your biggest dream: to be a paid & beloved fiction/short story author. with tv and film options. and to be rich so i can put every bill on autopay AND fly to any place on a whim because its wed and i want a croissant from france. idk id use my money for whimsy.

* song(s) that's permanently on your repeat: there's so many. so many from the 70s/80s since im writing in that era but some new ones too. mercedes boy by pebbles recently, southern girl by frankie beverly + maze, get on the floor by michael jackson, lovely one by the jacksons, morning dew by beyonce, break of dawn by michael jackson, run to the sun by nerd, all i do by stevie wonder, heartbreak hotel by the jacksons (but live), never give up on the good times by spice girls, callin by syd

mj/jacksons songs that’s permanently on your repeat:

all of off the wall except for shesoutofmylife

say say say and specifically the second verse

human nature

wanna be startin something

lady in my life

remember the time

in the closet

come together

another part of me

bad

man in the mirror

heaven can wait

butterflies

jam

morphine

botdf

give in to me

tagging: @1andonlytashae @bewilderedhush @plan3tch1ld @gogoyubari888 @ttangerinexo @saturnzbars

* hair color: black/ginger (ginger has since grown out)

* favorite color: pink!

* favorite drink: prickly pear lemonade and hot chocolate (separately not mixed lol)

* one thing you love about yourself: I’m really a chameleon

* if you could be any animal, what would you be? Leopard

* dream place to visit: Tokyo, Japan

* what's one thing you're looking forward to right now? The next time I see my man lol

* your biggest dream: independence

Tonight was a small housewarming celebration for you and Michael, just an intimate gathering with the people who meant the most. Your closest girlfriends filled the living room with laughter while Michael’s siblings made themselves at home, reminiscing and catching up over drinks. Music drifted through the house as conversations flowed effortlessly, and before long, everyone had blended together as if they’d known each other for years

Just as you finished pouring the mimosas you carried the tray out of the kitchen and served the party, making sure everybody was comfortable before sitting with your girlfriends. The entire time Michael couldn’t keep his eyes off of you, secretly itching at the party to be over so he could have you alone

Jackie watched you disappear into the kitchen before nudging Michael with his elbow, a teasing grin spreading across his face

“Mike” he chuckled, “you never told me you had your woman this in check—I mean, look at her. She already knows what needs to be done without you saying a damn thing”

The pressure settled over Michael the moment he realized every one of his siblings was staring at him, waiting for his response. Feeling the weight of their eyes, he swallowed his nerves and did the only thing he could think to do—play along

“That’s ’cause she knows better” Michael scoffed with a laugh “I got the final say in everything that happens in this house.” He leaned back with a smug grin, playing into the teasing as his siblings erupted into laughter

“Is that right?” Jackie nudged Marlon, pulling him into the drama

“Y-yeah it’s like this, whatever I say that’s just what it is” Michael egged on

“Michael don’t get yo’ ass whooped when we leave tonight because you tryna keep up with Jackie” Marlon snickered

“What’s wrong with me?” Jackie asked

“You listening to a fool that got his leg crushed by the same woman he refuses to divorce”

You couldn’t help but overhearing the conversation and Michael’s two cents. Raising your eyebrows at his cockiness, you’d be lying if you said it didn’t turn you on. As you used your index finger to push your hair out of your face you pretended like nothing was wrong, smiling and engaging in your girlfriends. Even introducing the girls to Michael’s brothers

As midnight fell, some guests were too drunk to drive home so they stayed over. Michael made sure everybody was comfortable downstairs before creeping into his bedroom, the first thing he saw was you lying in nothing but a blue gown, his favorite actually. As you filed your already perfect nails. Smiling at him as he shut the door and walked towards you

“Is everybody okay?” You softly, asked

“Mhm” he nodded. “I made sure everybody was okay”

Michael walked over to your side of the bed and rested his hands on your thighs. Making the weight in the bed shift as he sat down,caressing them but really he just wanted to look up your gown. Licking his lips at how plump your lips were, you spread your lips open and grabbed his index finger, slowly pumping it inside yourself before bringing it to his lips and making him suck off the fluids. Immediately his eyes shut as he moaned taking in your taste “mm”

“Can you do me a favor baby?” You asked unbuttoning his shirt and softly kissing his neck. Your eyes watching goosebumps form as you applied each kiss, listening to him hiss in the process

“Anything”

“Take these off for me please?” Using your acrylic nails to point at the bulge in his pants

He nodded slowly, keeping his eyes on you as he unbuckled his jeans and stripped down until he was naked. Waiting for your next instruction, with the motion of your fingers you called him in. But for some reason the look in your eye was different than normally, making him nervous as he rested his back against your chest. You kissed along the sides of his face and his neck. Softly rubbing his exposed chest as your hands made their way down his body, just feeling your hands get closer to his dick his precum leaked even more “Please, I’ve been waiting on you to touch me all day” he confessed

“Awww, baby” you coo’d pressing your lips against his ear. Softly brushing your pointing finger against his tip, making Michael squirm. “I’m sorry”. Kissing his ear knowing how sensitive this area was, dragging your tongue along various spots listening to him moan and scoot closer so you can keep going. Oozing with each passing

You instructed him to spit on his own tip before wrapping both of your hands around his dick, twisting them in opposite directions while moving them up and down repeatedly. Michael’s head rested back on your shoulder with his eyes shut, moaning repeatedly “Oh honey—please don’t stop”

“I’m sorry I kept you waiting for so long daddy, should’ve known better”

It was obvious what you meant by that, quickly Michael felt his stomach drop. Realizing you had overheard him. He stumbled over his words trying to explain himself, only for you to speed up the process and jerk him off faster. To the point of him breathing hard and turning his face in the crook of your neck “I can’t hear you baby”

You gently lifted Michael’s chin, guiding his gaze to the vanity mirror in front of him. Keeping your hand beneath his jaw, you held him there, making sure he looked directly at his own reflection. “Look at how handsome you are daddy” kissing the side of his face between your fingers “and look at how big you are. I can barely fit it, in my hands” you moaned softly

“I wanna fill you up so badly” he whimpered “Please, pretty girl can I cum for you?”

“Mm” you teased, watching his precum coat your fingers, making the loudest fapping sounds as you twisted your hand around his dick “Look at the man in the mirror and tell him who’s in charge”

Licking his lips, staring at you then your hands wrapped around his dick “You are” he admitted. A proud smirk spread across his face as he finally gave in. Secretly loving every moment of your domination

“You sure? Because Jackie thinks—“

“No” Michael profusely shaking his head “No, no you’re in charge mommy”

His hands gripped at your thighs as his whimpers got louder “I’m sorry baby, please if you make me cum I’ll never do it again”

“That’s too bad, it actually made my pussy wet hearing you talk like that” you whispered in his ear before roaming your tongue around it and whispering for him to cum all over your hand

“You’re gonna take care of me right?” He asked looking up at you

“Yes daddy—now let me have it”

“Oh my god thank you” kissing at your wrist just before bucking his hips into your hand and cumming harder than ever. His head draped over your shoulder as he cried out in your embrace “Fuck” he said, barely above a whisper

“Good job my sweet boy” you coo’d kissing his faint tears as you continued to jerk him off but much slower

Before the night was over Michael rewarded you with eating your pussy until you told him to stop. Riding his face and cumming on his mouth and nose. Apologizing to you for being so cocky earlier in the evening

The following morning, Michael wandered downstairs in search of a glass of orange juice, lazily scratching the back of his head as he leaned against the kitchen counter. On his way back upstairs, he passed Jackie sprawled out asleep on the sofa. Without even opening his eyes, Jackie smirked

“Morning, Mr. Sweet Boy” he teased

Michael’s face immediately flushed with embarrassment as laughter erupted throughout the room at Jackie’s remark. Too mortified to defend himself, he quietly shook his head and spent the rest of the day hiding upstairs, refusing to come back down until everyone had finally gone home

Taglist: @slugstarzz @diorzaep @michaeljacksonsfavfish @mikeysfishfr @mikeysfavoritefish @michaelkisskissgirl @18lkpeters @applesange1s @barnesnnobles @szalipcombo @narratedillusions @savagenctzen @kiwikisses20 @loveposiie @xoxogossipgirl20 @yungrapunzel @botdfaholic @j3nnyluvscupc4k3s @curlypytclubx @neverstreett @matcha-nicolas

── .✦

the bedroom was swallowed in dim golden light, the air thick around you. michael had you positioned right in front of the full-length mirror next to the bed, your hands pressed flat against the glass just to keep your feet under you.

his forehead rested against your shoulder blade, his chest working hard against your back. every time he pulled back and drove deep into you, his moans slipped from between his lips — so gentle on the surface, but rough with the way he was working his hips.

"look up, baby," he mumbled against your neck. his voice was so soft, but it left zero room to disobey. "look at how pretty y'are f'me."

⊹ ࣪ ˖ ໒꒱ description: a rainy night takes an unexpected turn when michael stumbles across your secret toy. what starts as a tense, quiet confession quickly turns into an intense lesson in desire. suddenly, waiting isn't as easy as it used to be.

content: 18+, smut, established relationship, fluff, usage of sex toys, religious michael, otw!michael, my mind is so nasty lmao, not proofread…so if yall see sum, no yall don’t…

۶ৎ the storm outside was unrelenting, the heavy downpour beating a steady, rhythmic thrum against your apartment windowpane. inside, everything was warm and isolated. minnie riperton was playing low on the turntable, the soft needle pops blending into the sound of the rain.

you were sitting on the edge of the sink counter, setting out small glass bottles, while michael leaned against the doorframe, a thick white headband holding back his soft curls. he was watching your hands with absolute, intense concentration as you prepped your skin.

"so wait... you gotta put that liquid stuff on first?" michael asked, tilting his head with wide doe eyes. "before we put the face masks on?"

"yeah, baby," you chuckled softly, lifting the glass bottle to show him. "this is the toner. it balances your skin and cleans off whatever the soap missed so the face mask can actually do its job."

"hmm," michael hummed, stepping closer to inspect the bottle. "i wanna learn it all. show me how to do it. i gotta keep my skin right for these studio sessions this week... quincy’s got me under those bright lights all day."

"well, if you wanna do it right, i need a couple of cotton pads," you smiled, turning to look for the plastic sleeve on the counter before realizing it was empty. "oh, shoot... without even thinking, i left the backup pack in my bedroom."

"where in the bedroom?" michael asked, already turning toward the doorway, his socked feet making no sound against the tile.

"they're right in my nightstand drawer, baby. top one, right in the front."

"top drawer, got it," michael said smoothly, padding down the short hallway into the dim light of your room.

you turned back to the mirror, uncapping the bottle and humming along to the vinyl playing in the living room, completely oblivious to what was resting in that drawer right beside your spare skincare backups.

and then, the entire apartment went dead, suffocatingly quiet.

stepping out into the bedroom, you found him standing rigid by the bed, staring wide-eyed into the open drawer. sitting right beside your spare lotions was your seven-inch realistic dildo. michael stood completely shocked, his jaw slightly open, trying to form words that just wouldn't come out. the silence alone told you everything he had seen.

you hurried over and slammed the drawer shut, grabbing the cotton pads off the top and trying to convince him to come back to the bathroom to finish like nothing had happened. but michael just stood there dead in his tracks, his expression completely unreadable, his chest rising and falling in shallow, uneven breaths.

then, he murmured out so quietly, his voice raspy over the storm. "are you—are you not satisfied in our relationship?"

you could see the deep worry on his face, almost as if he’d been physically hurt by the sight.

you let out a soft sigh, putting the cotton pads down on the nightstand before sitting right on the side of the bed, looking up at his tall, frozen frame. "yes baby, i’m happy. so very happy with you."

michael slowly raised his long hands, rubbing his face tiredly before looking back down at you. "mama, i asked if you were satisfied. not happy."

you sighed, completely unable to lie to his handsome face and big, searching doe eyes. "it’s not that i’m unsatisfied… i just have personal needs, baby."

michael hummed softly and nodded, his hand moving up to nervously pick at his afro, a habit he fell into whenever his mind was racing. "but i thought we agreed we weren’t ready to have— to go all the way."

you readjusted nervously on the mattress, nodding slowly. "yes baby, i know what i agreed to. and i meant it. michael, if you aren’t ready, then you aren’t ready, and i’m okay with that."

michael sighed heavily, his shoulders slumping. "clearly you aren’t... now that you’re using a toy instead of me." he frowned, his dark eyes fixed on the carpet.

"well baby, i know where you stand on sex," you said softly, reaching out to gently grab his long hands, pulling him closer until he was standing right in front of you between your knees. "you’ve told me it all, about how you’d like to wait till marriage or whenever you’re ready. i’d never force you to do anything just for my pleasure. i love you and i could never."

a thick, heavy quiet settled over the room, filled only by the rhythmic drumming of rain against the window and the faint, distant crackle of the vinyl turntable in the living room.

michael didn't say anything right away. he stood there with his jaw tightly set, his chest rising and falling in deep, slow breaths as he searched your face. you could see the war playing out behind his big doe eyes—the deep-rooted shyness, the weight of his upbringing, and the overwhelming desire to just be everything you needed.

slowly, the sharp tension in his shoulders began to thaw. his thumb smoothed over the back of your knuckles in a slow, rhythmic circle, his touch softening from hesitant to deliberate.

"yeah... well, now i’m jealous," he joked softly.

you chuckled to yourself, breaking the heavy tension. "no need to be, i always imagine it’s you anyways."

michael’s big eyes went wide at your vulgar comment. "wow, that’s… sexy," he whispered, saying the word like it was a swear word he wasn't supposed to utter out loud. "tell me more, mama. i wanna know what i been missin' out on."

he moved closer, sitting beside you on the bed. you scooted your back up against the headboard, pulling your knees up, while he remained on the side of the bed, gently rubbing your leg through your nightgown.

the rain kept beating steady against the glass, but inside the room, the air had turned thick and still. michael’s long fingers trailing light, feather-soft circles along the side of your leg. his big dark eyes didn't leave yours for a single second.

"so..." michael whispered, his voice dropping low, almost hesitant. "when you're layin' here by yourself... what actually goes through your head, mama? walk me through it."

michael let out a quiet breath, looking down at your joined hands before bringing one of them up to his lips, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your knuckles.

"i just... i hate thinkin' about you layin' here alone, mama," he murmured, his voice dropping into a thick, low husk that made your heart do a quiet flip. "i thought i was protectin' you, but the thought of another thing—some object—givin' you what i should be givin' you... it drives me crazy."

he shifted closer, on the edge of the mattress until his knee was pressed flush against yours. the vulnerability in his eyes slowly shifted into an intense, quiet curiosity that made the air in the bedroom feel instantly warmer.

you took a slow breath, feeling a sudden wave of heat rush up your neck. "it's... usually on nights after you drop me off. after our dates."

"after our dates?" michael echoed softly, tilting his head. a faint, curious brow raised above those wide doe eyes. "what about our dates makes you go open that drawer?"

"just you, michael," you admitted quietly, shifting your hips slightly against the sheets.

"i come home, and the apartment is so quiet, but my head is still spinning. i'm thinking about the way you looked at me across the table. the way your hand felt wrapped around mine while you were driving... or how your voice sounds when you lean in real close to whisper somethin' in my ear before you leave."

michael’s breath caught sharply in his throat. his thumb stilled on your leg for a split second, pressing a tiny bit firmer into your skin before continuing its slow, rhythmic stroke.

"you... you really lay here thinkin' about my voice?" he murmured, leaning a fraction of an inch closer, entirely captivated.

"mhm," you hummed, your breath growing a little shallow as the memory settled in your chest. "i lay right here in the dark, and i pull the covers up... and i think about what it would feel like if you didn't leave. if you stayed."

"and then what?" michael asked, his voice dropping another octave into a smooth, thick hush. he leaned in so close you could feel the soft warmth radiating off his face. "tell me every detail, mama. don't skip nothin'."

"i reach into the nightstand," you whispered, uncrossing your legs slowly, letting your knees fall open just a little wider as a sudden, restless ache began to pulse between your thighs. "i grab the toy... but when i touch myself with it, i don't think about silicone. i pretend it's your long fingers...or just you."

michael swallowed hard, the sound sharp in the quiet room. his eyes widened, a deep, dark intensity swirling in his pupils as he listened. "you pretend it's my hands on you?"

"yes, baby," you whined softly, your chest rising and falling fast now. "i close my eyes and I imagine your weight on top of me. i imagine you holdin' my wrists down against the pillow, pressing your mouth right against mine..."

"gosh..." michael whispered, his breath completely hitching as he stared at your parted lips. "i had no idea... i didn't know you wanted me like that."

"i want you all the time, michael," you breathed out, your voice trembling as your body subtly twitched, a quiet gasp slipping past your lips at the sheer thought of it. "i lay here and i slide it in real slow... and all i can do is moan your name into the dark. michael... oh, michael..."

michael’s eyes tracking the subtle flush spreading across your chest and down your neck. he saw the way your legs shifted nervously, the way your breath hitched every time you spoke his name, your body visibly growing warm and needy right in front of him.

he shifted his weight, moving his hand from your knee up to the warm, soft skin of your inner thigh, his long fingers pressing in just enough to anchor you there.

"looks like you want it right now," he spoke softly, the words sliding out smooth, deliberate, and undeniably bold.

you were surprised at his sudden words. "michael… baby…"

"shhh," he hushed you softly.

leaning forward, he caught your lips in a warm kiss, whispering against your mouth. "i hate that i can’t please you the way you need."

you just kissed him deeper in response, hands resting on his chest, before mumbling, "s’okay baby. i understand. i’ll wait for you."

michael’s hands began to ride up your legs gently, feeling the warmth of your skin beneath your nightgown as he continued to kiss you, trailing his lips to your jaw.

"i hate how bad i wanna be inside you, but just can’t," he murmured against your skin.

you breathed deeply as michael whispered in your ear, his long fingers rubbing your thighs, turning you on so fast your head was spinning.

"you teasin’ me baby…don’t do that," you whispered against his lips while gently holding his face.

michael pulled away slightly, looking you right in the eye with a fierce, quiet intensity. "maybe i can do somethin’ bout it this time."

eyeing your expression for any doubt, he shifted his body and leaned over back into the drawer, pulling out the dildo. you gasped at how naughty he was being, having never seen this side of him before.

"baby, what are you doin—" you tried to speak, but michael just cut you off with a deep, heavy kiss, his tongue exploring your mouth and stealing your breath away. you whimper against him, pulling his warm body closer by the shoulders.

"you said you think about me kissin’ you, huh?" his lips left yours, trailing down to gently peck along your throat. "all down here?"

you moaned out desperately, clenching his white t-shirt, balling the fabric into your fist needily. "mhm... yes..."

"you think about me touching you all over? like this, mama?" he questioned, pulling back to hold eye contact intensely.

his hands were now roaming your body, reaching up under your nightgown to gently stroke your tummy before moving up to caress your breasts. you bit your lip at this sudden burst of sexual intensity. his long fingers tugged at the strap of your nightgown, pulling it down, exposing your breasts to the cool air.

"you imagine me kissing you right here baby?" he wondered softly.

his long, slender fingers grasped the plump roundness of your breasts, lifting you gently before his lips met the thick hardness of your nipples.

you moaned out, your head falling back against the headboard, hips bucking up begging for something… just something. the lingering thought of his religious stance lingered in the back of your mind as he licked and sucked softly.

"i get those feelings too," he whimpered against your breasts, his breath hot against your skin. "that need to feel you, to hold you close and feel that warmth… and wetness."

your hands tangled in his afro gently as you felt his warm tongue working over your sensitive skin. "i just know it’s so unholy for me," he whispered, almost to himself. "it feels so forbidden mama."

"then baby, why you feelin’ on me so good like this?" you whined, desperate for any kind of pleasure, knowing actual sex was unlikely.

he pulled back from the kiss, his lips hovering right over yours teasingly. "cause you deserve it… mama. y’been holdin’ back for so long. just for me."

you gently rubbed his cheekbone with your thumb, pulling back with a softened expression. "i’d never wanna rush you baby."

michael leaned back in for another kiss before mumbling, "i know sweetheart, and that’s why you deserve it most."

before you could even react, you felt something hard pressed up against your clothed warmth. you gasped, feeling the firm pressure against your clit. half of you wished it wasn’t the toy, and the other half wished it was really michael.

looking down, you saw michael gently moving the dildo up and down your core over your panties, grinding it slowly. before you could speak, his free hand took you by the chin, pulling you to meet his eyes.

"no baby. look at me. feel me," he directed softly, pressing the toy down harder in a slower, torturous grind. he leaned forward, kissing your neck and whispering sweet, filthy promises into your skin.

you begged him not to tease, writhing under his touch. seeing your desperation, michael reached down and pulled your panties down your legs, throwing them aside, completely in love with the sight of you bare and wet for him.

resting the warm, smooth tip right against your wet opening, he paused just to meet your gaze. then, with a slow and deliberate tilt of his wrist, he slid the dildo all the way into you, letting out a soft breath as he set a steady, intoxicating pace.

"look at me," he murmured, keeping his eyes locked onto yours as he established a steady rhythm. with every deep glide of the toy, he talked you through it, his voice low and heavy as he described precisely how he’d take you if it were his own body. his grip stayed firm, anchoring you to the mattress with each smooth stroke.

slowing down, he whispered right into your ear, "this is how slow i’d go when holding you close..." while he kissed down your neck.

and then speeding up, his wrist moving faster, "and this is how fast i’d go, when you keep making noises like that for me."

"look at me, mama," he reminded you continuously, his voice commanding yet infinitely tender. "keep your eyes on me, not the toy. imagine it's me. tell me who's touching you."

"you... it's you, baby," you whimpered, completely lost in his dark eyes and the steady push of his hand.

michael leaned in close, his heavy gaze never leaving yours for even a second. his wrist kept a steady, torturous rhythm, sliding the smooth length deep into your warmth before drawing it back out to the sensitive entrance, only to push right back in.

"that's right, mama," he whispered, his deep voice carrying a quiet authority that made your core pulse tightly around the toy. "i want you to keep lookin' at me. don't look down, don't look away. keep your eyes right here."

"michael... oh god, it feels so good," you gasped, your fingers digging into the cotton of his shirt, your hips rising up off the mattress to meet every deliberate thrust.

"i know it does," he murmured, his thumb moving to gently stroke your cheekbone, wiping away a stray bead of sweat. "i hear the way you're breathin' for me. i feel how tight and wet you're wrapped around this... but you're not gonna rush it. not yet."

you whimpered, feeling the intense coil tightening dangerously fast in your stomach. "baby, please... i'm so close—"

"shhh, hold on for me," michael hushed softly. you were right on the very edge, your whole core coiling tight, ready to snap—when suddenly, michael pulled the toy clean out of you.

a loud, desperate gasp tore from your chest at the sudden emptiness. "michael! wait, no— baby, please!"

"shhh," michael hushed softly, his voice dark and smooth as velvet. he placed the smooth handle of the dildo right into your trembling palm, closing your long fingers tightly around it. "i wanna see you do it."

you looked up at him through heavy, blurred eyes, panting hard.

"what baby?” you questioned, clearly taken aback, as the pleasure lingered in your lower stomach.

"you heard me, mama," he whispered, shifting his body until he was hovering directly over you, his knees slotted firmly between your thighs, pressing his full weight down against you. "you do it for me every night when i'm not here, right? so show me. put it back in."

your hand was shaking so bad you could barely guide it, but with his heavy dark gaze locked onto yours, you slowly lined the tip back up and slid the smooth length back inside yourself. a long, shuddering moan escaped your lips.

"gosh, look at you," michael rasped, his breath hot against your neck as he leaned down, taking your mouth in a deep, heavy kiss.

while your hand worked the toy inside yourself, michael completely took over the rest of your body. he shifted his hips, pressing his weight down right between your thighs, grinding down against your core so you could feel the massive, firm shape of him straining through his trousers. it felt so real—so heavy and solid—it was almost like he was actually inside you.

"mmph... michael," you sobbed into his mouth, your wrist trying to find a fast rhythm, but he reached down, his long fingers wrapping tightly over your hand on the toy, slowing your pace down to an agonizing, deep glide.

"not yet," he commanded against your lips, trailing his mouth down to your jaw, sucking a dark, wet mark into the soft skin of your throat. "go deep, mama. just like that... slide it all the way in."

his free hand roamed up your body, squeezing your breasts gently before his lips tracked down to take your nipple into his mouth, licking and sucking wet friction into your skin while your hand kept moving under his steady guidance.

between the wet heat of his mouth on your chest, his heavy hips grinding against your thighs, and the silicone sliding deep inside you, your mind went completely blank.

you felt a sudden, intense wave of heat build deep in your core—so sharp and overwhelming that your whole body twitched, a sudden, wet gush spilling out around the toy and coating his long fingers.

you gasped out loud, thoroughly embarrassed. "oh god, michael— i'm sorry, i—"

"don't you dare apologize," michael growled softly into your skin, his eyes blowing out wide and dark as he felt the hot wetness soaking his hand.

it sent a visible shock straight through him, his chest heaving as he stared down at how completely undone you were for him. "that's so pretty... you're doing so damn good for me, mama."

he pressed his hips down harder, grinding against you with a slow, relentless tilt that made your head throw back against the headboard.

"now move your wrist faster," he instructed softly into your ear, his breath scorching hot. "don't stop. picture me right here, holding your wrists, taking everything you got."

"i can't— michael, i'm gonna—" you choke out, as you desperately trembled at every wave of pleasure surging throughout your body.

"i know you are," he whispered, his voice dripping with quiet authority as he captured your lips in one final, deep kiss, his hand speeding your wrist up until the movement was a frantic, blurring friction. "let go for me, mama. do it right now. let go. don't hold nothin' back. let me see how good it feels when you're thinkin' about me."

that last, deliberate push pushed you completely over the edge.

a high, helpless cry tore from your throat as your entire core clamped down tight around the toy. wave after wave of intense, shuddering pleasure crashed through your body, making your back arch off the bed and your legs tremble uncontrollably against his sides.

"yes, mama... just like that," michael whispered softly, his own breath hitching as he watched your face undo completely. he slowed his hand to a long, gentle glide, encouraging your wrist to continue plunging the toy deep inside you to ride out every last pulse of your release. "i got you. i got you, baby..."

you sobbed out his name, completely overwhelmed, hiding your flushed face in the crook of his neck as the sweet, lingering waves finally started to settle.

the intense, heavy mood in the room snapped the second your breathing finally slowed down.

michael carefully pulled the toy free, setting it aside on the nightstand with the absolute extreme caution of someone handling live dynamite. he immediately pulled you into his arms, tugging the heavy blanket all the way up to your shoulders.

for a long moment, you both just lay there in the quiet. your head was resting against his chest, listening to his heart beating a mile a minute.

then, a quiet, muffled giggle escaped his throat.

you raised your head slightly, looking up at him. michael was staring straight up at the ceiling, his cheeks flushed bright red, a massive, goofy grin spread across his face.

"what?" you murmured, a tiny smile tugging at your own lips.

"nothin'," michael said quickly, his voice cracking just a little bit before he let out a full, breathy laugh. he covered his face with one long hand, shaking his head against the pillow. "gosh... i can't believe i just did that."

"you were pretty smooth, mr. jackson," you

teased gently, poking his ribs through his white shirt. "where did all of that suddenly come from?"

michael wheezed, curling up slightly away from your poking finger. "stop! don't tease me, mama, i was tryin' real hard to be serious for you!"

"oh, you were serious," you chuckled, leaning up on one elbow to look down at his flustered face. "you were ordering me around! 'look at me, mama, keep your eyes on me.'"

"hey!" michael gasped, his big doe eyes widening as he pulled his hands away from his face to swat playfully at your arm. "i was being attentive! you said you wanted me to talk to you!"

"you sounded like a whole boss," you giggled, resting your chin on his chest. "i didn't know you had that in you."

"well... i gotta make sure i'm doin' a good job," he mumbled, a proud little smirk replacing his bashful look. he reached up, gently tucking a stray lock of hair behind your ear, his thumb brushing your cheek. "did i? do a good job?"

"you did amazing, baby," you soft-smiled, leaning down to press a sweet kiss to the tip of his nose. "ten out of ten."

"good," michael hummed, looking thoroughly pleased with himself as he wrapped his arms tightly around your waist, pulling you back down against his chest. "cause i am not losing to a piece of silicone in that drawer ever again."

you wiggled a bit, getting ready to sit up and tug him by the hand. "alright, mister. come on, let’s go back to the bathroom and finish those face masks before they dry into cement on our faces."

you made a move to toss the blanket off, but michael’s hand darted out, his long fingers wrapping around your wrist with a sudden, surprisingly firm tug that pulled you right back down onto the mattress.

"woah, hold on," he said quickly, his voice pitching up an octave.

"what?" you laughed, turning back to face him. "what's the hold up?"

that’s when you noticed his cheeks were burning a bright, dusty crimson, all the way to the tips of his ears. he was holding his lower half completely stiff, looking like a deer caught in the headlights.

your gaze naturally dropped down past his hands, and your eyes went wide. straining hard against the front of his trousers was a massive, unmistakable bulge—one that was noticeably thicker and longer than the toy sitting on the nightstand.

michael gasped softly when he caught you looking. in a sudden flash of panic, he snatched the big floral throw pillow off the bed and slammed it right over his lap, hugging it against himself like a shield.

"don't—don't look down there!" he squeaked out, hiding his face behind the edge of the pillow.

you couldn't help it; a loud, breathless laugh burst right out of you. "michael!"

"i'm fine!" he mumbled quickly from behind the cushion, his voice muffled and thoroughly mortified. "i'm totally fine, mama, really! it's... it just does that sometimes! it's a natural reaction!"

"baby, that pillow isn't hiding anything," you giggled, leaning over and trying to tug the corner of the cushion. "you look like you're carrying a whole extra package in your pants!"

"stop it!" michael groaned, wheezing with laughter while desperately holding onto the pillow for dear life. "leave me alone! i was tryin' to be a gentleman and now you're making fun of me!"

"i'm not making fun of you!" you laughed, resting your chin on his chest, looking up at his dark, timid eyes peeking over the top of the floral cushion. "i'm actually pretty impressed."

michael flushed an even deeper shade of red, a shy, proud little grin tugging at the corners of his lips despite his utter embarrassment. "yeah? well... don't get used to it. i'm staying right here under this blanket until next week."

"fair enough," you smiled, feeling a huge wave of warmth and affection wash over your chest.

you stopped teasing him, leaning up to press a soft, sweet kiss right onto his warm cheek. instead of pulling him up to the bathroom, you just slid back down beside him under the heavy duvet, wrapping your arms securely around his waist and resting your head over his heart.

"we can do the masks tomorrow," you whispered softly into his shirt.

michael let out a long, relieved breath, letting the pillow drop as his arms wrapped tightly around you, pulling you in close.

Michael x Black Girlfriend who plays GTA but specifically Vice City because two of his songs are on there.

Set in 2002

He’s 44 and she’s late twenties/early 30s

It’s a particularly rainy weekend and what’s more perfect than to play your favorite video games?

✨ he walks into the den where you’re loading up GTA, ready to attempt a mission you kept failing the other day

✨he is amused by your tied up hair, legs crossed on the floor, water and Red Bull on the ground next to you.

✨”did you eat actual food today baby?” He asks as the familiar 80s music theme begins to play as the game loads

✨”yeah I had a sandwich. I swear the memory card better have my last save on it or I’m going to lose my mind” you say as the game slowly loads

✨luckily it did and now you get to attempt the mayhem and destruction mission you were stuck on for hours last weekend (you have responsibilities after all)

✨Michael sits down, finding your intense focus cute. The way you scrunch you face, you sticking out your tongue as your character breaks out a rocket launcher to destroy the helicopters above you.

✨”what is the point of this game?”

“Violence, sex, drugs, money, violence” you fire back as you switch from the rocket launcher to your favorite weapon of choice, the machine gun effective at getting you to FINALLY pass the level.

✨while Michael doesn’t love the violent nature of the game, he’s still amazed at how semi calmly you are playing it. No continued yelling, no shouting just concentration and the occasional “COME ON” when something doesn’t go your way.

✨then you get into a car, turn to fever105.1 and he hears it…his song playing in the game.

✨”wait…I cleared this? When?!”

✨you laugh as you drive in the games version of a Ferrari, weaving in and out of traffic almost seamlessly, give or take a few side swipes. “Baby I don’t know, but I do know I love cruising and shooting bad guys while ‘Wanna Be Starting Somethin’ plays. Billie Jean is on here too.”

✨he watches as you demonstrate the joy you spoke on, effectively running over people who were shooting at your character. The enthusiasm as the chorus plays during a chase scene in the game.

✨”this is crazy, why am I so interested though?” He asked you before joining you on the floor.

✨”cause it’s your music playing while something you wouldn’t do is happe- MOTHERFUCK!” Your character died on screen due to a shootout.

✨”wait is that it? Game over? How many lives do you get?” Michael asked with wide eyes

✨you lightly chuckle at him while the game respawns your character at a nearby hospital. “No honey, there’s unlimited lives I just got to either buy new weapons or use cheat codes to get them again.”

✨you get up to look for the gaming magazine that held the codes for several games, GTA included. As you walk back, you see him eyeing the controller and get a thought.

✨”baby….do you want to try your hand at playing?”

This came to me randomly would you like a part 2???

And yes Wanna Be Startin Something and Billie Jean are both in the game.

Michael x Black Girlfriend who plays GTA but specifically Vice City because two of his songs are on there.

Set in 2002

He’s 44 and she’s late twenties/early 30s

It’s a particularly rainy weekend and what’s more perfect than to play your favorite video games?

✨ he walks into the den where you’re loading up GTA, ready to attempt a mission you kept failing the other day

✨he is amused by your tied up hair, legs crossed on the floor, water and Red Bull on the ground next to you.

✨”did you eat actual food today baby?” He asks as the familiar 80s music theme begins to play as the game loads

✨”yeah I had a sandwich. I swear the memory card better have my last save on it or I’m going to lose my mind” you say as the game slowly loads

✨luckily it did and now you get to attempt the mayhem and destruction mission you were stuck on for hours last weekend (you have responsibilities after all)

✨Michael sits down, finding your intense focus cute. The way you scrunch you face, you sticking out your tongue as your character breaks out a rocket launcher to destroy the helicopters above you.

✨”what is the point of this game?”

“Violence, sex, drugs, money, violence” you fire back as you switch from the rocket launcher to your favorite weapon of choice, the machine gun effective at getting you to FINALLY pass the level.

✨while Michael doesn’t love the violent nature of the game, he’s still amazed at how semi calmly you are playing it. No continued yelling, no shouting just concentration and the occasional “COME ON” when something doesn’t go your way.

✨then you get into a car, turn to fever105.1 and he hears it…his song playing in the game.

✨”wait…I cleared this? When?!”

✨you laugh as you drive in the games version of a Ferrari, weaving in and out of traffic almost seamlessly, give or take a few side swipes. “Baby I don’t know, but I do know I love cruising and shooting bad guys while ‘Wanna Be Starting Somethin’ plays. Billie Jean is on here too.”

✨he watches as you demonstrate the joy you spoke on, effectively running over people who were shooting at your character. The enthusiasm as the chorus plays during a chase scene in the game.

✨”this is crazy, why am I so interested though?” He asked you before joining you on the floor.

✨”cause it’s your music playing while something you wouldn’t do is happe- MOTHERFUCK!” Your character died on screen due to a shootout.

✨”wait is that it? Game over? How many lives do you get?” Michael asked with wide eyes

✨you lightly chuckle at him while the game respawns your character at a nearby hospital. “No honey, there’s unlimited lives I just got to either buy new weapons or use cheat codes to get them again.”

✨you get up to look for the gaming magazine that held the codes for several games, GTA included. As you walk back, you see him eyeing the controller and get a thought.

✨”baby….do you want to try your hand at playing?”

This came to me randomly would you like a part 2???

And yes Wanna Be Startin Something and Billie Jean are both in the game.

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☆ Pairing: bad!Michael x black!makeupartist!reader ☆ Summary: Michael's usual makeup artist calls in sick just when he has to grace the cover of one of the biggest magazines in the world. In a hurry, he gets his team to find a replacement--you--and realizes exactly why people refer to you as the best in the field. Bonus, he might develop a little crush on you. A/N: Inspired by this post by @michaelsbowtie ☆ Content/warnings: fluff, sfw, angst, mention of racist beauty standards, Michael's lupus implied ☆ Word Count: 5.2k

1986.

You were not one to rejoice in someone else's misfortune, but thank God Karen caught a cold. It led you to the biggest opportunity in your career.

You were an established name in Hollywood. A reference. Why? Because your client list was mostly made up of people of color. You worked most often with Whitney, regularly with Janet and LaToya Jackson, as well as, perhaps, the entire modeling industry.

Beauty standards excluded people of color. Black people, especially. As a result, women with melanin were forced to wear shades too light for their skin tone and colors that did not complement their undertone. Some makeup artists straight up refused to work with them simply because 'they did not know how to handle their skin color' or because 'they were not taught at school'.

Bullshit, obviously.

And that was where you came in like a breath of fresh air.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Read Chapter 1

Synopsis: A forgotten meeting. A private conversation. A dangerous attraction neither of them can deny.

Word Count: 2.6K

Warnings: MDNI, 18+, Smut, Forbidden Romance, Cheating

Note: I had so much fun writing this. Kind of got in the zone and just kept going. I'm giving y'all a little smut teaser before we get to the nitty-gritty. Talk about sexual tensionnn.

my requests are open - Reblogs, likes, and feedback are always appreciated. They help keep this story alive and encourage more updates. 🖤

Chapter 2 | Temptation

The week had passed faster than Mya expected.

By Monday morning, Michael had officially signed with Starlight Media Relations, making him the firm's newest client. The announcement had spread through the office almost instantly, and by lunchtime, everyone seemed to have an opinion on what his account would entail.

Mya, however, was more interested in the workload than the excitement.

His file had nearly doubled in size over the weekend. Interview requests, appearance inquiries, endorsement offers, and a growing list of invitations from charities and award shows had already begun piling up on her desk. If they were going to reshape Michael's public image, every appearance had to be intentional.

Which was exactly why she found herself driving across Los Angeles instead of sitting in a conference room at Starlight. Their strategy meeting had been scheduled for 10 a.m., but Michael never showed.

“I can’t believe he’s already acting like a diva. I don’t have time for this shit.” Mya groaned to herself.

Later, she learned it wasn’t because he had canceled, but because he’d gotten lost in the zone. He had been in the studio since 6 a.m., but she still felt her time was wasted.

Ryan's solution had been simple.

"If he can't leave the studio... the studio becomes the conference room."

So she headed towards Westlake Recording Studios, expecting him to reschedule again.

The studio was darker than she expected. The only light came from the soft glow of the control room and the lamp inside the vocal booth. Quincy Jones sat behind the mixing board, one hand resting on the faders while the other tapped lightly against the desk.

Through the glass, Michael stood alone beneath the booth lights. Headphones covered his ears as he leaned toward the microphone, eyes closed.

"Liberian girl...You came, and you changed my world. A love so brand new. Liberian girl..You came, and you changed me, girl. A feeling so true"

His voice was smooth like velvet, gliding through the melody with a warmth that sent a slow shiver crawling beneath her skin. Every word seemed to linger in the air long after he'd sung it, settling over the room like silk.

Mya swallowed.

She'd spent years hearing him through car speakers, but none of them had prepared her for this. He sang the next set of lyrics. More like he moaned them into the mic. It felt like she'd accidentally wandered into a moment she wasn't supposed to witness.

 “I love you, Liberian girl… Mhmmm baby, ahh, ah ah ahh”

A warmth spread through her chest, settling somewhere that it shouldn’t. His voice was smooth, achingly smooth, and every note seemed to wrap itself around her before melting into the room. For a brief moment, she'd forgotten why she'd come. She simply stood there... listening.

Quincy pressed the talkback button, his voice coming through the speakers inside the booth.

“That’s a good one, Smelly. Come in here and listen back.”

Michael slipped his headphones off, a small smile tugging at his lips as he stepped away from the microphone. He ran a hand through his hair, still lost somewhere between the song and the moment, before opening the studio door.

“You think we got it? I hate that they're making us record this again for the single,” he asked, looking toward Quincy.

“Maybe,” Quincy replied with a knowing grin. “Unless you decide you want to do another twenty takes.”

Michael laughed softly, shaking his head as he walked into the control room.

Then he saw her.

For a moment, he froze.

Mya stood near the entrance of the studio, her portfolio tucked against her side, watching him with an expression that was equal parts patience and irritation.

His eyes flickered toward the clock on the wall before immediately returning to her.

“Oh my gosh.” The realization hit him all at once.

“Mya…”

He quickly crossed the room, rubbing the top of his head nervously.

“I am so sorry. I completely forgot about our meeting today.”

Mya raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms.

“Clearly.”

Michael let out a small laugh, but the guilt on his face didn’t disappear.

“No, seriously, I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to waste your time.” He glanced back toward the recording booth. “I came in early this morning just to finish one vocal, and then I got stuck on this one part and —”

He stopped himself, realizing how much he sounded like he was making excuses.

“Frank was supposed to remind me, and my assistant is out sick, and I just — It’s no excuse. I am so, so sorry.” Michael said quickly, looking down with an embarrassed expression.

She had expected arrogance. Maybe even annoyance that she had interrupted his session.

But instead, he looked genuinely embarrassed. Almost like he was more upset with himself than she was.

“Well, I’m glad you understand why I’m annoyed,” she said. The edge in her voice had softened slightly. “I rearranged my entire morning for this meeting.”

“I know,” Michael said quickly. “And I really am sorry.”

Before she could respond, Quincy turned away from the mixing console, a curious smile spreading across his face.

“Well, who is this pretty young lady, Smelly?”

Michael glanced back toward him.

“This is—”

“Mya Richards with Starlight Media Relations,” she said, stepping forward with a polite smile. “I’m Mr. Jackson’s new publicist. It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Jones. I’m a huge fan of your work.”

Quincy smiled warmly, shaking her hand.

“Well, thank you, honey. It’s nice to meet you too, Ms. Richards. But please, call me Quincy.”

His eyes shifted between her and Michael, amusement flashing across his face.

“As for Mr. Jackson over here…” Quincy chuckled. “He has a habit of getting lost in his work. Looks like you’re in big trouble, Smelly.”

Michael smiled sheepishly, looking down for a moment. 

“Thanks, Quincy.”

She was standing in the same room as Quincy Jones, a man whose music had been part of the soundtrack of her entire life. She had grown up listening to his work. Thriller alone was legendary.

And then there was Michael. The man behind the voice she had just heard through the speakers. She glanced back at him, remembering the sound of him singing only moments earlier. His voice was still lingering in her mind.

Michael noticed the look and gave her a small smile before motioning toward the couch at the back of the studio.

Quincy laughed quietly as he turned back toward the mixing table, slipping his headphones on and adjusting the controls.

Mya sat on the black leather couch towards the back of the studio. Sitting down gently, crossing her legs as she had on a skirt that was a little too short, but she was running late to the meeting she was supposed to have and decided to just leave it on. 

Her skirt started to rise as she leaned slightly towards her briefcase. The black seam of her thigh-highs peeked out, giving Michael a full view. She pulled out her legal pad and Michael's press file and turned back towards him.

He was staring.

He paused, and his eyes were focused on her thighs.

The way he looked at her made her feel like the air in the room had been sucked out, like she couldn’t breathe. The look on his face made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. She slightly pulled her skirt down and placed the file on her lap.

“So let’s get started,” Mya said as she cleared her throat. Her voice came out in a high pitch.

Michael slowly trailed up to her eyes and paused for a moment, and she felt like he was staring into her soul. The look in his eyes was something else... she couldn’t put her finger on it, but she suddenly felt exposed.

He let out a short laugh as he bit his bottom lip while shaking his head.

“Ha, yes, let’s get started. What do you have planned for me, Ms. Richards?”

Mya cleared her throat again before speaking.

“Well, you have a few things on your schedule in the next couple of weeks, but let’s start with the two major obligations coming up in the next few weeks."

She began writing notes on her calendar. She held it firmly across her lap.

“You have a meeting with Pepsi's marketing team to discuss the upcoming commercial. We’ll be discussing filming dates, creative direction, wardrobe budget, and your rate, of course.

She paused and took a deep breath. "You also have to show face at the Epic Records charity gala."

“Are you hungry?’ Michael asked, tilting his head.

“Am I hung — What? Michael, did you hear what I just said? You’ve already wasted my time today. This is serious business.” Mya said angrily with a shocked look on her face.

“Yes, Mya, I hear you. I’m listening to you. You have my attention. All of it,” he said calmly in a smooth tone that sounded like honey. “It’s lunchtime. I’m sure you’re hungry. I thought maybe… we could have a working lunch?”

Mya was hungry. Starving really. Running late this morning didn’t give her much time to grab anything. All she had was black coffee and a granola bar.

“Fine.” She rolled her eyes. “Where in the world could we possibly go without you being recognized?"

“I have a little Mexican spot I love to go to. It’s a restaurant my private chef’s family owns. I’ve met them, and they’re a wonderful family. We’ll be good there.”

Michael called right before they left, and they shut the restaurant down early so we’d have the entire place to ourselves.

He decided it was best to take his private car instead of Mya’s.

"Your car is beautiful, but it might draw attention we don't need."

Maybe he was right. Walking outside the studio, Michael rushed to the car door before Mya could open it.

“After you.”

Mya gave a nervous smile and said thank you as she slid into the car while he closed the door and walked to the other side.

Her skirt didn’t stand a chance against the slippery tan leather seats. Slowly rising, showing the black seam again, only this time the top of her thigh peeked through, exposing her skin.  Struggling to pull it down, she scooted up quickly, trying to fix it before Michael got it.

As Bill drove towards the Mexican restaurant, there was a moment of awkward silence until Michael eagerly broke it.

“Soooo you have an entire file on my life, and I know nothing about you. I'm curious, Ms. Maya, what's your story?”

“My story? It's no fairy tale of a story. Just a normal girl with a normal boring life."

"Ms. Mya, nothing is boring about you. Try me."

"Ummm, my story. Ok, well, I’m 29. I have a Bachelor's in Marketing, but my minor was public relations. I’m the first and youngest Senior Publicist at Starlight. And yes, I am tooting my own horn,” she said mockingly, flipping her hair over her shoulder.  

Michael smiled.

“I think you deserve to.”

The compliment caught her slightly off guard. She looked away for a moment before continuing.

“And I have a boyfriend I've been with for about seven years. We met at Howard." she nervously blurted out.

She instantly regretted mentioning Darius. It’s not like she was trying to hide him, but for some reason she didn’t want to broadcast it. Well, not to Michael anyway. Maybe it was to remind herself that she has a man, a good man. Any girl would be proud to be with a someone like him. She shook the thought out of her head.

Michael listened, focused on her lips as she spoke. His attention never left her.  She was beautiful, but it wasn’t only that. It was the way she carried herself. The confidence in her voice. The pride she had in the work she had earned. She was accomplished. Intelligent. Driven.

And taken.

The mention of her boyfriend lingered longer than he expected.

Seven years.

A wave of disappointment flashed across his face, but he quickly fixed it.

His eyes briefly dropped before he caught himself, moving from her lips down to her thighs.  Noticing the way she shifted in her seat, adjusting her skirt as the leather beneath her made the hem move higher than she intended. Her thick thighs peeked through, exposing her golden brown skin.

He couldn’t help himself. Just her presence alone was tempting. Tempting him to break the promise he made to himself... the vow he swore he'd never break.

Again, she noticed him... watching her. She crossed her legs, trying to control what she was feeling deep within her. Raising her left leg over her right just made her skirt rise further. Her sheer black thigh-highs had a lace band at the top. Currently struggling to keep them up.

He felt himself rising, making his pants feel tighter and tighter as his dick throbbed, begging to be freed. His mind wandered...

Stuck on the thought of how her throat would feel choking on his length, struggling to breathe.

Imagining how wet she could get for him.

The faces she'd make as he stretched her out... he wanted her. Right there, right now, in this car. The feeling of guilt for sexualizing her quickly came and went. He couldn't help himself. So he let his lustful thoughts take over his mind.

He followed the curve of her hips to her waist, finally meeting her stare. He smiled shyly, biting his bottom lip as he turned his head towards the window, then back towards her.

"What else?" Michael said in a deeper register than she's heard before. "Tell me what things you're into. Tell me what you like."

She was aching for him… throbbing, her clit was silently begging, desperate to be touched. Her wetness soaked through her panties onto the tan leather seats. His eyes were paralyzing.

She looked down at his hands. The hand closest to the window rested on his thigh, and the other on the seat. She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out.

She was completely speechless. Fantasizing about how his fingers could make her cum.  How they would feel smacking and grabbing her ass as he slowly —

“Alright, we’re here. I parked in the covered parking area in the back so you guys can sneak in.” Bill said, looking at Michael through the rearview mirror.

“Oh thank goodness...” Mya said after exhaling deeply. “I’m um —I’m so hungry. I hope their enchiladas are good...”

Michael stepped out and walked around, opening Mya’s door. He held his hand out, and she paused, looking up at him.

“I feel the same. I’m — starving…” Michael said in that smooth register that traveled down her spine with a smirk as she stepped out, grabbing his hand.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Synopsis: Mya was supposed to manage his image, not become a part of the scandal. But behind closed doors, Michael Jackson becomes the temptation she can’t walk away from and the secret she has to keep.

Word Count: 3.4K

Warnings: MDNI, 18+ , Forbidden Romance, Angst, Fluff, Sexual Themes, Smut in upcoming chapters, Cheating

Note: Ahhh my first fic y’all! I've been overthinking this for weeks sooo yay I'm finally posting it. This will be a series so bare with me. Comment and let me know what you think 🤍

my requests are open

⋆ ──────────✧─────────⋆

Chapter One | First Contact

The city was still waking up when Mya Richards drove downtown toward the offices of Starlight Media Relations.

The morning haze was beginning to lift, and with the roads nearly empty, she actually had the chance to enjoy the drive down Sunset Boulevard. Los Angeles had a different kind of energy in the early morning, before the traffic, the noise, and the constant movement took over.

Her midnight black Mercedes cruised along the road, the cherry red leather seats and matching convertible top still reminding her of the first major purchase she made after her promotion. It had been a reward to herself, a reminder that all the long nights, sacrifices, and years of proving herself had finally paid off.

The top stayed up most days, but the weather was too beautiful to leave it closed. Her hair appointment wasn’t until the following week, and with her relaxer overdue she tied a scarf onto her head and let the morning breeze kiss her face.

Most mornings, Mya walked in closer to 9 a.m. but today was different. Ryan wanted everyone in the office by 7:45 sharp. No excuses. A new client was coming in. According to him, the information remained strictly need-to-know until the contract was finalized.

Of course, that only made everyone more curious.

At twenty-nine years old, she was the youngest Talent Relations Manager Starlight had ever promoted. It was an accomplishment she carried proudly, but she also understood the pressure that came with it. Being the youngest person in the room meant people paid closer attention. They waited for mistakes. They wondered if she had truly earned the title.

She knew exactly what people noticed when she walked into a room before they ever heard her speak. Her coco-brown skin. Her polished smile. The curves that even the finest tailored suits couldn’t completely disguise. More often than not, people noticed her beauty before they noticed her resume.

Unfair? Absolutely.

But Mya had learned a long time ago that she couldn’t control what people saw first. She could only control what they remembered after she opened her mouth.

She eased her convertable into the circular drive and stopped beside the valet stand. While she waited, she flipped down the vanity mirror and carefully reapplied her brown lip liner before filling in her lips with a deep burgundy lipstick.

She flipped the mirror closed and movement in the rearview caught her attention.

A long black limousine rolled into the driveway behind her.

She lowered her sunglasses slightly, trying to see through the tinted windows, but whoever was inside clearly wasn’t interested in being seen.

The valet hurried toward her car, and Mya stepped out, smoothing the front of her tailored skirt before reaching into the back seat for her briefcase. She had chosen her outfit carefully, a charcoal-gray skirt suit, sheer black pantyhose, and black patent leather pumps. Professional enough to command respect, but still feminine enough to feel like herself.

As she walked around the back of her car, Mya took one last glance toward the limousine before turning to the valet with a smile. They exchanged a few words and shared a brief laugh before she thanked him, said goodbye, and headed into the building.

She stepped out of the elevator into the lobby of Starlight and was immediately met with the familiar rhythm of the executive floor. Phones rang, assistants moved quickly between offices, and executives were already discussing campaigns before most people had finished their first cup of coffee.

After dropping off her purse and briefcase in her office, she checked the stack of messages waiting beside her phone. She had barely finished scanning the first few notes before deciding coffee was necessary.

The break room was already crowded when she walked in.

“Girl.”

Mya smiled before she even turned around.

“Good morning, Rhonda.”

Rhonda was the only other Black woman on the executive floor, which meant the two of them had naturally gravitated toward each other. What started as a workplace friendship quickly became something much closer. After realizing how much they had in common, best friend was the only title that truly fit.

Rhonda glanced around the break room before lowering her voice.

“You see that limousine downstairs?”

Mya lifted her coffee mug.

“I did.”

Rhonda leaned closer, her eyes widening slightly.

“I heard it’s Michael Jackson.”

Mya paused for a moment, looking over at her.

“Michael Jackson?”

“Mm-hmm.”

A grin slowly spread across Rhonda’s face.

“Girl… have you seen that man lately?”

Mya laughed softly, shaking her head as she stirred cream into her coffee.

“I mean, I’ve seen him on television. He’s cute.”

Rhonda stared at her like Mya had personally offended her.

“Cute?”

Mya looked over, trying not to laugh.

“Yes. Cute.”

Rhonda placed a hand against her chest dramatically.

“Girl, that man is fine.”

Mya rolled her eyes, but the smile tugging at her mouth gave her away.

“Rhonda.”

“No, I’m serious.” Rhonda leaned against the counter. “Have you seen the ‘Bad’ video?”

Mya laughed.

“I knew you were going there.”

“I’m just saying.” Rhonda shrugged. “That man knows exactly what he’s doing.”

Mya took another sip of coffee, pretending to be far less entertained than she actually was.

“I’m not saying he isn’t handsome. I’m just saying I’m not about to lose my mind over some famous singer. He ain't the first or the last one to walk in here.”

Rhonda laughed.

“Well, if the rumors are true, you’re about to get a real good look at him today.”

Before Mya could respond, the intercom crackled overhead.

“Attention, everyone. Conference room in five minutes.”

The chatter across the executive floor immediately shifted. 

The entire team filed into the conference room, coffee cups and folders in hand, the usual morning chatter replaced by quiet anticipation.

Everyone had their theories.

Everyone thought they knew who the mystery client was.

Mya took her seat beside Rhonda, placing her folder neatly in front of her. Around the table, executives adjusted their jackets, flipped through notes, and exchanged knowing looks. Even without anyone saying it, the curiosity in the room was obvious.

Ryan stood at the head of the table, watching everyone settle in with the calm confidence of someone who already knew exactly how much attention he had managed to create.

“I’ll save everyone the guessing.”

The room quieted.

Ryan looked around the table before finally speaking.

“Our prospective client this morning is Michael Jackson.”

For a moment, nobody reacted.

Then the room erupted in laughter and applause.

Conversations overlapped. People looked at one another in disbelief. A few executives immediately began flipping through their folders, as if the answer might somehow already be waiting inside.

Ryan allowed the reaction to continue for a few seconds before raising his hand.

“Alright. That’s enough. He’s currently interviewing several firms,” Ryan continued. “We intend to be the one he chooses.”

His expression became more serious.

“Mr. Jackson has built one of the largest careers in entertainment history. He already has a team surrounding him. If he’s looking for new representation, it’s because he wants something specific.”

Ryan looked around the table.

“And we need to prove we’re the company that can provide it.”

Mya listened carefully, taking mental notes.

Once everyone else left the room, Ryan closed the door behind them.

“Mya, stay a minute.”

She gathered her folder and looked back at him.

“Your roster speaks for itself,” he said. “You’ve done good work here.”

She nodded, accepting the compliment but knowing there was usually more coming when Ryan started a conversation that way.

“But I also know what people are saying.”

She didn’t need him to explain.

She knew.

Ryan leaned back against the table.

“People think I promoted you too soon. Prove them wrong.”

He slid the folder across the table.

⋆ ──────────✧─────────⋆

She barely made it back to her office before the phone began ringing. Of course, she already knew who it was. A small smile tugged at her mouth before she even picked up the receiver.

“Good morning, baby.”

The smile in her voice was impossible to hide.

“Good morning, baby. Aren’t you supposed to be at practice?”

The sounds of the Los Angeles Rams locker room came through the line. Lockers closing, music playing faintly in the background, and the voices of his teammates carrying through the room.

“I’m allowed to call my girlfriend before practice.”

Mya smiled, shaking her head as she opened the folder Ryan had handed her.

“You mean you’re calling because you’re bored.”

“That too.”

A soft laugh escaped her.

She moved around her desk, settling herself on the edge as she flipped through the paperwork. One leg crossed over the other, her black patent leather pump dangling slightly from her foot while she scanned the pages in front of her. 

“I’m serious,” Darius said. “The season starts soon. I want to spend time with you before everything gets crazy.”

Mya glanced down at the calendar beside her phone. Meetings. Calls. Client reviews. Her schedule was already filling up.

“I know. I do.”

“But?”

She sighed.

“But I’ve been busy.”

The silence on the other end lasted only a moment.

“You’re always busy.”

He didn’t say it angrily. That almost made it worse.

Because he wasn’t accusing her.

He was noticing.

Mya looked back down at the file resting in her hand. Michael Jackson’s name was printed across the top page.

“I’ll make it up to you,” she promised.

“I’m holding you to that.”

A smile touched her lips.

Before she could respond, the energy outside her office shifted.

The usual sounds of the executive floor changed. Conversations lowered. Footsteps slowed. People who had been moving with purpose suddenly seemed a little more aware of who was walking through the hallway.

Mya glanced up.

From where she sat on the edge of her desk, she had a clear view through the open doorway.

The elevator doors had opened.

A group stepped onto the floor, security and assistants moving around them with practiced precision.

Mya recognized the scene immediately. She had worked around enough celebrities to know the routine.

Then he walked past her office..

Her gaze lingered over the fitted black jeans, her eyes slowly moving up towards the red windbreaker he wore zipped to the top, and the dark Ray-Ban sunglasses hiding his eyes. His hair was pulled back into a soft low bun, with loose curls framing his face and one strand falling near his eye.

For a brief moment, he turned his head and their gazes met. His eyes were hidden behind the shades, but she swore she could see right through them.

It lasted only a second. Just long enough for her to realize she was staring.

Mya looked away first.

Professional.

She was at work.

And she was still on the phone with her boyfriend.

“Baby?”

Darius’ voice pulled her back.

“You still there?”

Mya blinked, glancing down at the folder in her hands.

“Yeah,” she said quickly. “Sorry. I got distracted.”

“Baby, I miss you too. We’ll figure something out later this week, okay? My meeting is about to start.”

“Alright,” Darius said, though she could hear the disappointment he was trying not to show.

“I love you.”

Mya smiled softly.

“I love you too. I’ll call you later.”

She hung up the phone and let out a small breath.

A knock against the open door pulled her attention away. She looked towards the door where Rhonda stood there with a grin.

“Did you see my husband walk in?”

Mya laughed.

“Girl, shut up.”

She grabbed a paperclip from her desk and tossed it toward her. Rhonda caught it easily, still smiling.

“Come on,” Rhonda said, grabbing her folder. “We need to get to the conference room.”

Mya picked up her own materials, taking one last look at the file before following her out.

⋆ ──────────✧─────────⋆

Ryan opened the meeting with a brief welcome, thanking Michael and his team for considering Starlight.

Sitting beside Michael was Frank, his manager, a stocky man with a serious expression who had been quietly taking notes throughout the discussion.

The reason for the meeting was clear. Michael needed a team that understood the balance between protecting his privacy while also helping the public see the person behind the headlines. For years, the tabloids had filled in the blanks whenever he chose not to respond, creating stories that often became louder than the truth.

Frank leaned forward, explaining that they weren’t looking to change Michael. They wanted to create a strategy that allowed him to take control of his own narrative while still staying true to who he was.

Ryan nodded, glancing around the table.

“Mya?”

She straightened slightly in her chair, shifting her attention away from her notes and toward the conversation.

“The problem isn’t that Mr. Jackson is private,” she said. “Honestly, I think that’s part of what makes him different.”

The room grew quiet.

“The problem is the space between what people know and what they assume. When someone doesn’t have a voice in the conversation, everyone else starts speaking for them.”

She glanced briefly toward Michael before continuing.

“The goal shouldn’t be to make him more available. It should be to make his presence more intentional. The right interviews. The right appearances. The right moments where people get to see who he actually is instead of only reacting to rumors.”

For a moment, no one spoke.

Then Michael looked at her.

“That makes sense. I think I’ve stayed away from saying too much because I don’t enjoy interviews. And the tabloids…” He shook his head slightly. “Most of what they say isn’t true. Some of the things they write are completely absurd.”

A small smile touched his lips.

“But I suppose you’re right. If I don’t say anything, people will continue telling the story for me.”

His eyes stayed on hers.

“Thank you, Mya.”

For a second, she forgot the room around her.

The sound of her name coming from him felt... different.

Mya cleared her throat softly, forcing herself to look back down at her notes.

“Of course,” she said. “I think it’s a strong strategy, and we can definitely go into more detail as we continue developing the approach.”

Ryan nodded in agreement before continuing the discussion with Michael’s team, but Mya barely heard the next few words.

Because Michael’s eyes had stayed on her just a moment longer than they should have.

She had heard his voice countless times before.

On records and through television speakers.

Coming from radios playing in the background of stores and restaurants.

But hearing it directed toward her was different.

His voice was softer than she expected. Calm. Gentle. There was a low warmth to it that settled somewhere deep…before she had a chance to stop it.

It reminded her of the feeling she got driving her Mercedes with the top down.

That smooth, steady hum of the engine beneath her. 

The quiet power.

The way the car moved effortlessly forward, and then the slight jerk when the gears shifted. That brief change before everything settled back into place and the ride became even smoother.

That was what his voice felt like.

Like something she could feel.

Like it moved through her instead of simply reaching her ears.

Mya’s breath caught before she could stop it.

She crossed her legs tightly beneath the table, forcing herself to settle back into the moment.

Get it together.

But when she looked up again, she realized she wasn’t the only one who had noticed.

Michael was watching her.

Not enough for anyone else to catch.

Not enough to make it obvious.

But enough.

His gaze lingered for a second, and Mya felt the heat of being seen.

She immediately looked down, picking up her pen and turning it between her fingers as Ryan and Frank continued discussing strategy.

Except she wasn’t writing and she damn sure wasn't listening.

The pen moved between her fingers before she found herself biting lightly against the cap, trying to focus on anything other than the man sitting across from her.

Anything other than the way he said her name. 

The meeting continued, moving through strategies, appearances, and possible ways to reshape the public narrative. Mya remained engaged, offering ideas when needed and taking notes when she could.

But every so often, she caught him looking at her.

A glance when she spoke.

A moment when his attention drifted to her smile.

And every time their eyes met across the table, she reminded herself of the same thing.

He was a client.

Nothing more.

The meeting eventually came to an end, with Ryan wrapping up the final points before everyone began gathering their notes and files. The tension of the discussion slowly faded as people moved into the lounge area outside the conference room, where Starlight had set up refreshments for everyone.

Mya stayed near the edge of the room, making small talk with a few members of the team while she waited for the crowd to thin out.

“Umm hello, excuse me miss thang!?” Rhonda whispered as she snaked her arm through Mya's.

“What?” she asked, already suspicious.

Rhonda looked at her with an amused expression. “Don’t even try it.”

Mya almost laughed. “Rhonda, please.”

“I’m serious.” Rhonda lowered her voice, glancing across the room. “The eye contact? The way he kept looking over whenever you talked? It felt like we were interupting yall."

Mya shook her head, trying to hide her smile. “I was doing my job.”

“Sure you were.”

Before Mya could respond, she noticed Michael across the room.

He stood with a few members of his team, smiling politely as he spoke with people who approached him. He was gracious and attentive, but Mya noticed a slight nervousness that didn’t match the confidence everyone expected from someone like him.

Despite being the most famous person here, he seemed a little uncomfortable with all the attention.

Then his eyes found hers.

This time, he didn’t look away.

A few moments later, Michael excused himself from the conversation and walked over.

“Mya.”

She turned toward Rhonda with slightly raised eyes and then quickly turned back towards him with a smoothed expression.

“Michael.”

He smiled, almost shyly, before extending his hand.

“I wanted to thank you for today,” he said. “I really enjoyed your input on how to handle all of this.” He gestured around vaguely, his hands lifting as if he couldn’t quite find the right words, before letting out a small laugh. “You know… all of this.”

She reached out to shake his hand, expecting it to be nothing more than a polite gesture.

Except the second their hands met, she noticed.

His hand were huge. His fingers were long. His grip gentle, but steady, and for just a moment longer than necessary, neither of them let go.

She felt the pause.

And judging by the way his eyes lingered on hers, she wasn’t the only one who noticed.

She smiled. “Of course. I know it’s not easy having so many people trying to tell your story for you. My job isn’t to change who you are, it’s to help make sure people see the person behind everything else.”

Michael smiled again before his attention was pulled away by someone calling his name from across the room.

“I’ll see you around, Mya.”

She nodded. “Have a good evening, Michael.”

As he walked back toward his team, Rhonda immediately leaned closer.

“See?”

Mya looked at her. “See what?”

“Don't piss me off.”

Mya rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t stop the small smile forming.

“He was being polite.”

“Uh huh.”

“He’s a client.”

“Uh huh.”

Mya grabbed her things, shaking her head. “And I have a boyfriend. Remember Darius?”

Rhonda just smiled and shook her head. “Uh huh, I remember Mr. Darius. Looks like your memory is getting a little fuzzy though.”

Mya ignored her, but as she left Starlight that evening, she found herself thinking about the moment more than she wanted to admit. The handshake. The way he said her name. The brief second where everything else seemed to disappear.

She shook the thought away.