mikeybaby

Healing Arc

Timeline: HIStory Era

Pairing: Michael x fiance black rem reader

Preview: Michael reaches a breaking point, you help pick up the pieces.

Content: angst, fluff, comfort, hurt, teeny bit of spice/smut near the end. Pissed off Michael, empathic reader.

Word count: 4.6k

A/N: I apologize for the late drop, I didn't like where the story was heading and scrapped some parts. Slightly proofread, so give me grace. Hope ya'll enjoy!

Los Angeles 1995:

━━ ❖ ━━

It’s a miracle Michael hadn’t completely fallen apart after the last few years he’d endured. 

Health issues.

Allegations of child SA. 

World tour cut short.

New album releasing.

There was only so much a person could take before their breaking point was reached. 

The bubble burst in early May when a local radio station dropped an unauthorized leak of ‘Scream’, the new single from Michael’s upcoming ‘HIStory’ album. 

Neverland, early morning:

A quietness filled the mansion and settled around the estate like a snug blanket. No maids, no groundskeepers, no butlers, just an engaged couple living in the moment and having a much deserved break. 

Early mornings on the ranch were always peaceful to you and even more so when it was just you and Michael. 

Recently you’d introduced him to meditation and by the grace of God, it stuck! On the balcony of the master bedroom, settled on a black yoga mat, surrounded by the aroma of sandalwood incense and eyes closed, Michael released a deep breath. 

Palms resting on his folded knees and the gentle breeze rustling his loose curls, this was peace, this was calm. 

Next to him on your own mat, your thick, plump thighs were criss-crossed , you still wore your hair wrapped under your bonnet and your black and gold frames sat perched on your cute nose. 

A serene smile graced your round face. 

It genuinely brought you joy to see Michael at peace, even for 20 minutes. The hell you both endured over the last several months were probably some of the hardest in your 8 year relationship. 

Watching how the media ate him up like a hungry pack of wolves, seeing the scrutiny from strangers and the cherry on top of this messed up sundae, witnessing his health issues. You weren’t even married yet and already you were being tested for better or for worse. 

Inhaling, you finished your own meditation and brought your hands together as if in prayer and slowly opened your eyes. Taking a moment, you just sat and silently admired Michael for the man he was and how he was actively choosing to persevere. 

He was truly a beautiful man, especially when he was bare faced. When you’d met back in ‘87, Michael had just released ‘Bad’ and you were a junior editor for JET magazine and more concerned with climbing the corporate ladder than getting to know a man. 

Of course you had hook-ups and casually dated, but you weren’t taking any man seriously. Most didn’t want to be in a serious relationship with an ambitious woman, especially one that was coming up on 25, but back then that was considered old. 

However, you were soon going to find out the reason you hadn’t given serious dating much thought was because you just hadn’t met Michael Jackson yet. 

Flashback:

Shoot! The thought rang out in your brain like a bomb. You were running late and couldn’t afford to be this morning. Your boss wasn’t super strict, but she had stressed the importance of being present and prompt at the morning briefing since an important guest would be in attendance. 

Checking your appearance in the full length mirror nestled in the corner of your bedroom, you were overly pleased with the black knee length pencil skirt, red wrap blouse and gold broach you’d paired with the new platform Mary Janes you’d gotten last weekend. 

Jewelry, check. Perfume, check. Hair on point, check. You were finally ready to go. 

Grabbing your black, Coach Skinny Flight tote and doing a last minute check to make sure you had everything, you dashed out the door and locked up behind yourself. 

The commute to work thankfully wasn’t bad and only took 25 minutes, giving you an extra 10 minutes to spare and get your bearings before the briefing. 

When you’d gotten to the office and made your way to your meager cubicle, you’d taken notice of the extra bodies in the lobby and a few on your floor. Shrugging it off as just a coincidence since this was a popular African American publication company and famous people came through all the time. 

Continuing to deposit your belongings and head to the break room to get a cup of coffee, you couldn’t help but notice how chatty some of your co-workers were and especially for a Tuesday morning. 

A little curious, you stopped at your work bestie, Brandy’s cubicle to get the latest gossip. 

“Hey girl, what’s the word? Why’s it so busy in here?” You asked as you raised your mug to your lips. 

Turning toward you with wide eyes and an even bigger grin, she responded. 

“Good morning to you too ma’am!”

Smirking, you shake your head.

“Morning heffa. Now spill!”

“Alright, alright Queen Sheba!” She chuckled. “So word around the office is that a certain King of Pop will be making an appearance today.” Brandy stated with a knowing grin.

She was well aware of your small crush on Michael and of all days, she was relishing in that fact. 

Pulse quickening just a step, mouth suddenly dry and mug paused in mid-air for just a second too long, there was no way you weren’t affected. 

Who wouldn’t be when you hear your secret celebrity crush will be in the same building in just a few short minutes. The man was GORGEOUS!

Carefully setting your favorite coffee mug on Brandy’s desk you lightly shook your hands out and took in a deep breath. 

“Woah girl, you good?” Brandy asked, rubbing your back. 

Nodding, you took a few extra seconds to get your nerves under control. Wouldn’t do any good to have a panic attack at work but shoot, it was MICHAEL JACKSON for crying out loud!

Once you were back in control and had a more solid hold of your emotions, you gave a head nod to Brandy in silent black girl solidarity and scooped up your mug. 

“I’m just gonna be in the room with Michael Jackson, no big deal. I still have a job to do and one day isn’t gonna change that. Pray for me though girl, I’m gone need it.” You chuckled as you turned to make your way back toward your cubicle. 

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

Several moments later

Agreeing to an interview literally the day after releasing his album, some would say is insane, overwhelming, doing too much, but there is no such thing for the perfectionist and King of Pop. 

Michael ducked his head as he made his way into the publication keeping his eyes low even behind the dark tinted sunglasses. It was just another Tuesday for him, however he was excited to talk about this album and the new look. It was a chance to show people he was evolving. 

Gliding past the glass doors, he sauntered into the lobby with a quiet, graceful confidence that just poured from his very essence. Hair coiffed just so, allowing movement through his glossy curls. Black leather jacket fitting nice and sung, the tailored black slacks sitting just right and his red shirt with the top two buttons loose. 

Stepping onto the elevator, along with Bill and Tonya, Darryl Dennard’s assistant, the ride was fairly short and they stopped on the 5th floor. 

Upon making his presence settle into the room, Michael was instantly greeted and made to feel comfortable. It wasn’t until he’d been situating himself in the black, overly stuffed chair that he’d taken notice of the breathtaking creation standing in the background. 

A vision in black and red, it didn’t escape his notice that you matched with him which caused a slow, easy grin to appear across his soft lips. The entire time during the briefing Michael’s eyes kept veering towards you and he couldn’t stop staring. He was mesmerized by your round curves and the thickness of your thighs even under the skirt. 

When Darryl and Tina, the senior editor, called for a quick 15 minute break to arrange time for the interview setup, Michael saw an opening for his opportunity. Stretching his lean 5’9 frame to stand from his seat, he casually glided his way towards you.

Speaking with Marcia, another junior editor,who happened to be in the art department, you two were discussing layouts, captions and Michael’s outfit. It was only 6 minutes into your conversation that you took notice of how quiet Marcia became and the faint coloring on her cheeks. 

“Marcia, what’s wrong? Cat got your tongue girl?” You asked mildly concerned until you felt a sense of immediate calm and warmth flood you. 

“Hello ladies, I don’t mean to interrupt but I didn’t want you to leave before I said hello” Michael politely stated, never taking his eyes off you. 

Stuck. Your body wouldn’t cooperate and move, no matter how many signals you gave it until Marcia slightly nudged your arm with her elbow. As if you were an old Chevy that just needed a jumpstart, legs suddenly free, you turned towards Michael. 

Up close he was even more beautiful. The delicate and slender slope of his nose, rich light brown skin, beautiful wide eyes, long glossy curls and that bright smile. No doubt he’d be the cover model of your dreams tonight. 

“You’re supposed to be getting ready for an interview.” You quipped, faking a level of calm you definitely weren’t feeling. 

Michael dipped his head just a fraction.

“I know but you looked like the better conversation.” He confessed, the left corner of his mouth twitching into a satisfied grin. 

Was he flirting with me?, you thought.  

“How can you be so sure?” You volleyed back coyly. 

Inching his body forward just a hair, being careful not to intrude too much into your personal space, Michael smoothly replied. 

“Only one way to test the theory out. Let me take you out to dinner while I’m in town.” 

“You don’t even know my name and yet I’m still waiting for a proper introduction. I know you’re famous but ya mama didn’t teach you manners?” The retort flew off your tongue before you could even comprehend where it came from. 

Without blowing your cool front, you lightly crossed your arms and a quick smirk appeared on your full glossed covered lips. 

Bested and growing more attracted to you by the minute, Michael could only chuckle and hold his hand out towards you. 

“I’m Michael.” His usual soft spoken register announced. 

Placing your hand in his, your smaller appendage was engulfed in long, slightly calloused fingers. 

“Wow!” You gasped faintly. Hopefully he didn’t notice, you thought as you regained your composure. 

You introduced yourself by giving him your name and shook his hand. 

Neither of you moved to unclasp the other's hand until the clearing of a throat broke up the moment. 

“I hate to disturb this “love connection”. Marcia started. “But we gotta start getting ready for the interview Mr. Jackson.” 

Michael couldn’t let the moment end….not yet. 

“So will you let me take you out now that proper introductions have been made?” He asked again. 

Keeping eye contact with Michael, you didn’t immediately reply. You let the question rest between you two and just barely caught the slight dip in his smile. 

Tilting your head just the smallest fraction, you made the decision then and there to play hard to get with Michael Jackson. 

“While flattered, I’m gonna politely decline that invitation. It was nice meeting you Michael, but we’ve kept you long enough.” You sweetly turned him down. Preparing to make your way across the room, you were stopped with a hand to your elbow. 

Turning toward who you immediately suspected to be Michael and were proven right, you couldn’t help but let a small smile soften your face. 

“Ok, so no dinner then how bout your phone number please?” He pleaded with doe eyes. 

Freaking out internally, that he was still making an effort to try, you ran through different pros and cons quickly to balance out ‘what if’ scenarios in your head before coming to an answer. 

“Alright Michael, you can have my number but you get one shot to “woo” me. Let’s see what you got Mr. Superstar!” You challenged him. 

Once you’d let Michael in, there was no turning back! Shortly after the first meeting, he immediately started “wooing” you. Flowers became a weekly occurrence, nightly phone calls became routine and the letters you’d receive while he was on the road were some of the sweetest, most intimate and filthy admissions of love you’d ever gotten. It wasn’t long before you and Michael were making your relationship official and you were moving from NY to LA.

You two had become inseparable and Michael made you believe living a soft life was possible. After a few years together, Michael proposed and you couldn’t imagine not saying yes. Both agreeing on a long engagement , you two have been happy ever since and planning a wedding for early spring of ‘96.

End of Flashback.

“Take a picture, it'll last much longer baby girl.” Michael’s playful voice teased. 

Snapping out of the time machine you’d gone in, you grinned and tuned back into reality. 

“Well excuse me sir for admiring my handsome man.” You chuckled, swatting a hand out toward him. 

Grabbing your hand, Michael brought it towards his lips and pressed the sweetest kiss against your knuckles.

“Now I love when you admire me baby, but you keep staring any longer I’m gone think you want somethin’ girl.” Michael bit his lower lip and pressed another kiss to your knuckles. 

“Oh get your mind out the gutter sir. Besides, I already know you gone give me something later tonight anyway.” You winked at him as you affectionately squeezed his hand.

He couldn’t help the boyish grin that came to rest on his face as he mulled your words over. It was the pure truth, you both knew that Michael couldn’t keep his hands off your luscious curves and took every opportunity to touch some part of your body. 

“Damn straight and for as long as you let me too. Don’t play girl.” Michael retorted, a thin veil of lust coating his words. 

“Alright Mr. Too smooth, you ready to get the day going?” You asked with a slight yawn. 

Rising to a stand, Michael extended his other hand towards you. 

Grasping his hand, you allowed him to pull you up from the mat and bring you into his arms. 

“ Yes my love, as long as I have you by my side, it’s gonna be a good day.”

Rubbing his back in soothing motions, you tipped your head back to stare into those soul piercing eyes of his. 

“Stuck like glue baby, I’m not going anywhere.” You declared. 

Bending his head to meet your shorter frame, Michael pressed a soft, lingering kiss to your awaiting lips. 

“I’m grateful for you every day.” He confessed with a shaky breath. 

Tightening your arms around Michael, you willed a portion of your strength to pass onto him and give him the extra boost he needed. Sending a quick prayer you asked God to protect Michael’s kind spirit, guide him to make sound decisions professionally and personally, and to keep any evil minded spirits away from Michael in his new journey. 

“Alright baby, breakfast time. I can’t have you out in the world unfed now.” You patted his back once before untangling your arms from around his waist and nudging him back inside. 

Michael’s observant gaze never left your short frame as you made your way through the bedroom and down the long winding stairs of the house. He followed you all the way to the kitchen and obediently ate his veggie omelet, hashbrowns, toast and glass of orange juice. 

Once breakfast was finished and the kitchen tidy, you both returned to the bedroom and began preparing for the day. 

Settling in his study to go over last minute details of the album, Michael had the radio tuned to a popular L.A. station as background noise. As he was looking over a few promotional mock ups, not giving much thought to what was playing until he heard the DJ’s announcement.

“Listen up, this one is for all the Michael Jackson fans out there. We’ve got a brand new track from the King of Pop, featuring none other than Ms. Jackson if you nasty herself and his little sister, Janet. Here’s Scream, you heard it here first folks!” 

As if the sands of time stopped and caused all movement to cease, Michael froze. The paper in his hand stock still, brows furrowing and causing wrinkles to appear in his forehead as his brain tried processing the words he just heard. 

To further play tricks on him, the next sound he heard was the unmistakable static opening of said new song. 

“Ain’t no damn way. I know there ain’t no damn way they playing my song ahead of schedule.” Michael muttered to himself, clearly agitated and feeling the swirl of anger in his chest. 

The levels of disrespect, betrayal, disappointment and fury were all too much for him to keep bottled inside and Michael couldn’t play nice anymore, he was pissed and everybody was going to feel his wrath. 

Picking up the telephone situated on his desk, his first call was to Sony and he demanded to speak with Tommy Mottola himself because there was no excuse for a screw up of this magnitude to have happened. The second call was to Richard Griffiths, the President of Epic Records, Michael’s label. 

“Listen, I don’t care if he’s in a meeting. Tell him to get his ass on the phone right now damn it! Raising his voice wasn’t something Michael took pleasure in doing but today he’d make an exception. 

“No, this is an urgent matter and I demand to speak with him as soon as possible. If he doesn’t want to lose his most popular and highest grossing artist then I bet he’ll come to the phone then right?!” 

What felt like a tortuous 5 minutes later, Michael heard the rustling of the phone passing hands and then a deep baritone flooded the receiver. 

“Michael, I’m here. Where’s the fire?” Richard huffed into the phone with an air of nonchalance to his tone. 

“My fuckin’ song is being leaked on the radio right now Richard! That’s where the damn fire is. How did this happen?!” Michael growled, with a tight grip on the phone. 

“Shit!” Griffiths murmured. “I’ll start an investigation into this leak right away Michael. I’m truly sorry for this mishap and will get to the bottom of it!” He pleaded.

Michael rolled his eyes, already knowing he was being sold a bunch of BS wrapped in a pretty bow. 

“I’m sure you will. FIX. IT!” Michael hissed before slamming the receiver into its cradle. 

No longer able to ignore the shouts and echo of the phone slamming, you picked up the remote to pause the movie you were watching and tossed the throw blanket off your legs to make sure Michael was alright. 

Padding on bare feet, you cautiously poke your head into his study. 

“Baby, what’s wrong? What happened?” You inquired. 

Needing more room, Michael stood up from behind his desk and started pacing back and forth. 

Pointing at the radio with a scowl and narrowed brown eyes, he drew in a deep breath. 

“‘Scream’ was leaked on the got damn radio and nobody at Sony or Epic claims to know how it happened. Angel, I promise I’m sick and tired of all the bullshit cause I can’t take any more.” 

Stepping fully into the room, your left hand fell upon your chest in shock. You knew how hard Michael worked to keep his projects under lock and key and this was definitely not on par with his standards. 

“Are they serious right now?! That is unacceptable and straight bull. I’m so sorry my love.” As you offered your own sentiments on the situation, an ache thudded in your chest at yet another blow dealt to your fiance. 

Allowing him space, you didn’t crowd him and came to perch your butt on the smooth mahogany desk.

“Why they always tryin’ me mama? I try taking 5 steps forward and I get pushed back 10!” Michael unleashed the building fury. 

“I just want to share the gift I was blessed with and live my life. Imagine how them folk would lose they minds if they were actually in my shoes.” Huffing, Michael stopped pacing and propped his hands on his lean hips. 

Pure defeat rested on his face. You hated seeing him in this much distress, the last time he went to a dark place, he started having chronic insomnia and turned to prescription meds to help get even a few hours of sleep. You were sure to nip that in the bud real quick!

Tears of anger, sorrow and frustration began to well in your eyes from how much you hurt for him. 

“Favor ain’t fair and these people are hella mad that a black man has the level of success you have baby.” You stated with a bit of vehemence in your tone. 

No matter how much money or amount of fame he had, racism still affected Michael. At the end of the day, he was still a black man. Plain and simple. 

“Shit, let them tell it and I’m bleaching my skin cause I’m ashamed of being black. They call me a freak, accuse me of touching children, hell I’m even being called a homosexual despite having semi-public relationships. What more are they gonna take from me, my life?” Michael sobbed, shaky hands disturbing the relaxed strands atop his head. 

Swiping away fallen tears, you adjusted your glasses and choked back your own sob. 

“Come here my love, you don’t have to bear the burdens alone. I’m right here baby.” Holding your arms open you beckoned Michael to give you his load to carry. 

Like a moth to a flame, he entered your embrace, tightly engulfing your plush frame in his long arms. Burying his face in the crook of your neck, the flood of tears he held at bay were free to fall. 

Clinging to the only lifeline he believed he had left, Michael wept.

In your arms Michael was free to let his fears go, allowed to be vulnerable and imperfect. 

Gently tangling your fingers in his hair, you softly massage his scalp and pepper kisses along his temple. 

“I’ve got you.” 

“You’re safe.” 

“It’s ok to cry.”

Whispered reassurances passed your lips for the next several moments as you felt Michael begin to relax and his sobs quieted. 

Michael sniffled and drew a hand from around your waist to wipe away the last of his tears. Resting his forehead against your temple, he inhaled what had become your signature scent, vanilla, sandalwood and honey. An instant calming effect overtook him as he squeezed his arms around you and ran his hands over your back. 

He was grateful to you for giving him the space to release his emotions and be his shoulder to cry on, literally. Nuzzling his nose along the column of your neck, he left behind a soft, barely there imprint of his lips. 

“I adore and appreciate you so much, angel.” Michael softly muttered as he raised his head to gaze into your eyes. 

Gracing him with your beautiful smile, you leaned in close to rub the tip of our nose against his. 

“I know baby, I feel your adoration every day.” 

Closing the distance, your lips hover over Michael’s for a few seconds. Only the sounds of in sync breathing were heard before his impatience won out and he captured your lips in a sweet and tender kiss. 

Soon the kiss turned deeper, fiercer, warmer. Teeth scraped against each other, tongues battled and the sounds of your combined moans filled the room. 

Parting, you felt as if a herd of wild horses were running through your chest. 

Michael drew in a deep breath, letting the air fill his lungs before he moved in and captured your lips again. His hands didn’t stay idle either. Slipping under the hem of the oversize t-shirt you’d pulled on, Michael found you braless and let out a tortured groan.

Pinching the nipple of your left breast, he moved his kisses from your lips down to your throat. 

“Off, now.” He growled, voice thick with desire and residual anger. 

Raising your arms above your head, you obliged seeing the dark clouds swirling in Michael’s brown eyes. This was not about to be sweet, romantic or love making. No, Michael needed another way to work out the leftover tension in his body. 

Bending slightly, Michael captured a gum drop sized nipple between his teeth and gently bit down. When you hissed, he swiftly pulled the nub between his lips to soothe the ache. 

“U-use me however you need, baby.” You whispered into Michael’s ear the magic words that unlocked a secret door and that’s exactly where you found yourself minutes later. 

Michael had your thighs draped over his forearms as he held you against the thick wooden door of his study while pounding into your warm and gushy walls. 

“Look at you, being a good girl and taking this dick. Just drippin’ fa me.” Pressing his clothed chest against your bare breasts, he pulled your bottom lip between his teeth sucking, hard. 

“Harder b-bbabe!” Moaning out, you tightened your arms around his neck. 

Snapping his hips forward, Michael began thrusting deeper, and allowing you to slide down further on his dick. 

Grunting, Michael wrapped your legs around his waist, allowing his hands to find your shapely hips. Squeezing he began moving you faster up and down his member, the room filled with the sounds of your juices. 

SQUISH. SQUISH. SQUISH. 

“You’re doing such a good job angel.” Michael uttered faintly in your ear as he delivered faster strokes.

Reaching a hand between your warm and slightly damp bodies, he found your clit and began rubbing small circles on the bundle of nerves. 

“Oooo, yesss daddy!” Eyes rolling to the back of your head, you couldn’t fight the burst of warmth making its way up your body. 

“That the spot right there mama? Mmhmm, who does this pretty pussy belong to?” Michael growled. 

Clinging to the last bit of sanity you had left, you held your rising orgasm at bay long enough to get your mouth to work. 

“YOURS DADDY!” You shrieked as you felt the band snap and sweet relief flood your senses as you came hard. 

“That’s it, cum all over this dick angel. My good girl.” Michael panted as he bounced you on his dick faster and faster, chasing his own release. 

Feeling the tight grip, you knew there’d be bruises but that was the furthest thing from your mind right now. As soon as the first euphoric wave calmed down, you felt the second one building in your low in your belly as Michael’s mushroom head brushed your spongy sweet spot again and again. 

“O-oooh, I’m bout to cum again. Shiiiit Michael!” 

“Cum with me angel.” Michael whimpered before his hips stuttered and his release filled you. 

“Damn mama, you make me feel soooo good.”  Resting his head in your chest, he kissed the top of your right breast. 

Mini aftershocks caused you to clench your walls around Michael’s semi-erect length, still nestled inside. Unclasping a hand from around his neck, you tangled your fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck. 

“Feel better baby?” You affectionately uttered.

Tilting his head up, his chocolate brown orbs met your light brown ones.

“Much. Thank you for taking care of me angel.” 

“You never have to thank me, that’s my purpose, loving you.” 

Wrapped around Michael like a protective blanket, you tugged him closer never wanting to let go. 

━━ ❖ ━━

ᝰ.ᐟ SUPER FREAK!

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: thrill the wall!michael jackson x f!reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: you’re a super freak—but you’re alright with global popstar michael jackson (inspired by ‘super freak’ by rick james)

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 6.1k

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: smut, 18+, (p-in-v), use of (name) once, smut and implied sex, creampie, facial, unprotected sex, cunnilingus, semi-public sex (hand-job), mentions of sex toy’s and kinks, multiple orgasms, sex-crazed reader, freaky reader, groupie esc but not rlly, clubbing, drinking, cursing, smoking (all reader) drug usage (not reader), katherine hates us LOL, down bad mike. mentions of religion/repenting but doesn’t go very well, your friends are as wild as reader, yeah this is uhh this is smth. enjoy!

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: this is obviously inspired by ‘super freak’ by rick james, which has been one of my favourite songs since i was a young teen and instantly thought of michael and the jackson’s when i re-listened to it the other day. this is pretty wild so enjoy!! this a long fic but idk how to find out my word count but strap in LMFAO

She’s a very kinky girl…

Michael wasn’t sure exactly sure how he got here—Tucked into a V.I.P booth at Studio 54, an array of sickly sweet alcoholic beverages sprawled out across a wooden, circular table, music blasting in his ears, and a young lady with minimal clothing on, perched on his lap.

To say he was uncomfortable would be a lie. To the untrained eye—Michael Jackson, the famously shy, timid and gentle man, looked tense and awkward with such a woman atop of him, whispering in his ear, twirling a stray curl at the nape of his neck around her index finger, and skirt hiked up so high her panties were visible to anyone walking by. But, in reality, he was trying his hardest to not let his natural, masculine urges fulfil themselves beneath his black slacks, threatening to get uncomfortably tight.

𝙛𝙪𝙘𝙠 𝙢𝙚 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙢𝙚𝙖𝙣 𝙞𝙩 ⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖

𝙗𝙖𝙨𝙚𝙙 𝙤𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙧𝙚𝙦𝙪𝙚𝙨𝙩!

summary: michael came home frustrated after an unsuccessful studio session. he had the sole intention of taking that frustration out on you.

pairings: thrad!michael x black girlfriend!reader

cw: 18+ (mdni), just when i thought my writing was already nasty, we get even nastier, rough dom!Michael, sub!reader, doggy style!, eating out from the back, he fucks you with his tie around your neck, restraint (?), overstimulation kink (if you squint), ends with a facial (ouu shii), cum eating again! who's shocked!, porn with the smallest plot known to mankind.

wc: 1,936k

a/n: i listened to kissland by the weeknd writing this. i lowkey got a lil carried away, whoops! also, I'm kinda bad at writing angry sex. this the best i could do. pls dont throw tomatoes at me, im sensitive.

(you know i ain't proofread this lol. work is all mine, human written, and fictional!)

1985

the air was particularly chilly tonight, considering the california weather was making its smooth transition from the sweltering, daytime summer heat to its cozy, windy autumn nights.

you stayed inside pretty much all day, not really wanting to be bothered by choosing an appropriate outfit for the sudden changes. you laid on the bed, stretched out across the king size bed. you felt so small and out of place on a mattress this abnormally large for one person.

you flipped through a magazine, not really focused on the articles, but more on the pictures. you examined the faces between the pages, studying their makeup and the way they'd pin their hair up. you hummed and continued to flip, passively taking mental notes on the beauty tips.

you were terribly bored. you tried to ignore the thought of it or else the boredom would consume you whole. you've been waiting on your boyfriend to get back home from the studio. he had been spending late nights working on his new project. part of you felt neglected, not seeing him consistently taking a toll on how much time you got to spend together. another part of you understood it was his craft, and you couldn't be too mad at him for it.

you made it to the last page of the magazine, flipping the final page, and as if on cue, you hear footsteps traveling closer and closer to the door.

your ears perk up and an excited smile threatens to fall on your face as if you were a puppy waiting on its owner.

the door swings open and a slender silhouette stands in the threshold. you close the magazine, not taking your eyes off of him.

he walks through and you catch a better look at him: his face shimmering in the light from assumably sweat, curls sticking to his temple, eyeliner slightly smudged, his tie loosely around his neck, and his eyes lidded in a familiar manner that peaked your curiosity.

he watches your expression melt at the sight of him. he took you all in before speaking; you wore his big mickey mouse t-shirt and long white socks. if only you knew the kind of day he was having. his mind started to wander to what was underneath the baggy shirt. that's when a lightbulb went off in his head.

"michael. i missed you so much. how was--"

"strip." he commanded.

your face contorts, confusion knitted between your brows. your mouth slightly hung open, your brain scrambling to muster up a sentence, but failing. your expression remained perplexed, but you felt your body pulse at the simple, yet demanding word.

"i--"

"uhn uhn," he shook his head slowly, his lips puckered as he exhaled. "i said strip."

you pause for a moment before sliding the magazine to the edge of the bed. you watched as his eyes flicked from your face, down to your thighs, and back up to your eyes. you maintained eye contact while bringing your fingers to the hem of the shirt. you lifted it over your head, revealing yourself in nothing but black panties.

his tongue grazed over his lips, bringing himself back to earth. the sight of your perky breasts immediately sent blood to his growing bulge. the adrenaline pumping in his veins caused his vision to blur.

he walked over to you, sitting beside you, and cupped his hand onto your right tit. he quickly latched onto your nipple, his tongue swirling and licking in tight circles. your breath shuddered, mouth falling agape. you instinctively tangled your hands into his curls, slightly tugging on him. he hummed right against you before sucking hard and then pulling back with a pop, leaving a dark red mark around your brown nipple.

he moved his face from your cleavage and pushed his lips against yours. he brought his hand to your other nipple, rolling it between his thumb and pointer finger, lightly pinching. your back arched intuitively, pushing you closer to his body. you stuck your tongue against his lips, wanting to explore his mouth. he wrapped his lips around your tongue, sucking the same way he just did on your breast.

you moaned at his desperation. his hunger sent waves of pleasure to your clit. your thighs squeezed, wanting to relieve the consistent pulse in your panties. you could feel the wetness sticking onto your core.

his hand traveled from your chest to your neck, lightly squeezing on your pulse points, making your head light with euphoria. he pulled his lips from yours, and trailed kisses down to your neck, sucking hard and giving small kitten licks on the areas to soothe you.

"mikey..." you moaned.

he abruptly lifted his hand from your neck and wrapped his hand right around your mouth.

"who told you to speak?" he hummed.

you involuntarily whimper against his hand, the wetness pooled in your panties becoming unbearable. he glanced down between your legs and caught your eyes again.

"y'being needy? and all i did was kiss you, baby." he whispered into your ear, bringing two of his fingers straight to your clothed clit, rubbing in quick circles.

your eyes roll, your body melting right under his touch.

"you gonna let me use you, tonight? can i relieve my stress on your pussy?" he watched you nod as much as you could under his restraint.

"good girl, baby." he kissed your cheek sweetly, despite how he was manhandling you.

he quickly removed his fingers from your core, causing a groan to vibrate from your lips into his hand.

he took his hands off of your lips and brought them to your jaw, forcefully moving your head to the side. he brought his lips to your ear.

"lay down."

he let go and you flipped onto your stomach, ass perched into the air, the cool ac hitting the wet spot in your underwear. the contrast of cool air and your hot, aching body made you whine into the mattress.

michael hooked his fingers in the waistband of your panties, pulling them down in a swift motion. you could hear him shuffle around before the sounds finally stopped. you opened your lips to speak, before you felt a long lick travel from your clit up to your entrance. a high pitched moan parted from your mouth.

he brought his hands to the fat of your ass, spreading them to get a better look at all of you. he stuck his tongue out, nodding up and down, collecting every ounce of juice from the behind.

"m-mich-- oh, shit." you whimpered, a mix of surprise in your tone by the vulgar acts he was committing.

"you taste so fucking good, angel." he mumbled against your clit before sucking down on it.

your eyes shut tightly, your legs already starting to shake as an orgasm quickly crept up.

"wait-- fuck. i'm gonna cum, mik-- oh god." you cried into the sheets, your knuckles turning white from gripping onto them.

he swiftly removed his lips from your clit, watching a string of his saliva keep you connected.

you huffed at the sudden loss of contact again, your hips instinctively bucking, your entrance clenching onto nothing.

you heard him shuffle around again, his belt eventually unbuckling and his pants falling to the ground with a thud. his dick popped, hitting him against his torso, precum rolling down his tip and down his shaft. he stroked his length a couple times before another idea popped off in his head.

he slid the knot in his tie that sat around his neck and took it off of him. he leaned forward, grabbing onto your hair to lift your neck up.

you moaned under his touch before feeling the fabric travel around your neck. he pushed the knot down, the necktie lingering around you. he brought the tail of the tie to your back, before pumping a couple more strokes to his dick.

suddenly, he brought his tip to your core, collecting all of the natural lubricant that sat in every fold and crease of your cunt. he lined up at your entrance and shoved right into you.

you both moaned, your face immediately falling back onto the mattress. he huffed, grabbing the tie and pulling you up. he slammed his hips into you, your ass rippling with each stroke, the sound of skin slapping filling the room.

"you're such a dirty, dirty girl. look at you, baby. what a mess." he huffed between sentences, bringing a hand to one of your cheeks and slapping it.

"y'fuck me so good, o-oh my.. god." your whimpers and moans started to become sobs, your body overwhelmed with pleasure, lustful tears pricking the corners of your eyes.

"y'wanna cum now? cum all over my dick. fuck--" he pulled the tie tighter, his dick brushing against your walls at a quick pace.

you bounce yourself into him, pushing his length deeper into your opening. michael brought his other hand to your clit, quickly swiping side to side.

your whimpers fill the air before you release right onto him. the coil in your stomach snapped, your body convulsing, your eyes tightly shut, saliva dropping from the corners of your lips.

michael thrusted into you at a steady pace as you rode out your orgasm, a white ring forming at the base of his dick.

"you're so pretty when you cum for me." he groaned, his hips rolling into your overstimulated core.

at this point, your whole body felt like jelly, feeling completely fucked out. but, he continued to pick up his pace, still chasing an orgasm of his own.

"mikey, oh god. 's too much-" you stumble over your words, tears daring to fall from your eyes.

"shh, baby. take me. i know you can." he set the tie down, leaning forward to kiss your spine.

he continued thrusting into you before pulling out and pushing your waist, signaling you to flip over.

he toppled over you, aligning his crotch onto your chest, his tip hanging right in front of your face.

he pumped aimlessly, his breath unsteady. he cocked his head back, tugging at his bottom lip between his teeth.

he brought his attention back down to you, his groans quickly turning into whines. he angled his tip towards your lips.

"open."

you opened your mouth, tongue hanging out. a kitten-like whimper escaped his lips, his semen staining your face. some caught your lips, while most of it sprayed across your cheeks and chin. you brought a finger up to your face, wiping the vacant seed off, and bringing the digit to your mouth, sucking the remnants off.

he let out a breathy sigh, collapsing right next to you.

you both laid there, catching your breaths, trying to recover from the lewd acts that just unfolded.

"um," you cleared your throat. "how was your day?"

michael huffed, a smirk plastered on his face. "the worst. it seemed as if nothing went right at the studio today."

you rolled over, laying on your side, your eyes gazing across his side profile. he looked so beautiful, especially after sex.

"what happened?"

"it's nothing. i don't wanna get into it. it'll work me up again." he answered, slight frustration coating his tone.

you couldn't help but chuckle. "what if i wanna work you up again? i like when you get mad."

he lifted his head, looking at you. you bit your lips innocently, a smile forming at the corners of your lips.

he smirked, bringing his hand back to the tie, pulling you in for a deep kiss.

you were in for a long night.

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It didn’t start that way, of course. In the beginning, it was all soft laughs in the back of dark recording studios, late night phone calls where his voice dropped to a shy whisper, and gentle fingers tracing your jaw like you were made of glass. He was attentive. He was sweet. He made you feel like the only person in his crowded, chaotic world.

But sweetness was just the bait.

It didn't take long for the sugar to turn into poison. The gentle touches turned into tight, possessive grips on your waist whenever another man stepped too close. The sweet phone calls turned into rapid fire interrogation sessions if you didn't answer on the second ring. You gave it right back, testing his limits, pushing his buttons just to see his quiet composure break into a fiery, jealous mess. You loved knowing you had that power over him, and he loved driving you to the edge of sanity just to pull you back in.

You and Michael are soo toxic together.

The real shift happened the night he decided to test how far he could push you. After an intensely intimate night where he held you close, whispering promises of forever into your skin, Michael went completely dark.

One day turned into three, then a week, then three whole fucking weeks of absolute silence. Your calls went straight to voicemail, and his security team blocked you at the gates of the estate with practiced, cold polite excuses. You damn bear sent a Goddamn letter attached to a pigeon just to reach him. You were losing your mind, pacing the floors of your apartment, sick to your stomach.

And then came the knockout blow.

You were sitting in the dark, the glow of the TV illuminating the room, when the news broke. High definition footage flashed across the screen: Michael at an exclusive club afterparty in Los Angeles. And right beside him, practically glued to his hip, was her— Ola. the exact female he knew you despised, the one who’d been publicly throwing herself at him for months.

Michael wasn't hiding from the cameras. He was leaning into her neck, laughing at something she said, his hand resting low and firm on the small of her back. Right as the flashbulbs went off, he looked directly down the lens of the camera. He knew you were watching. It wasn't an accident; no, it was a cold, calculated punishment designed to tear your mind apart.

You and Michael are sooo toxic together.

Blinded by an icy hot mixture of rage, humiliation, and pure spite, you drove straight to the family property. You didn't care who saw you. You just wanted to burn his world to the ground.

Michael wasn't there.

But Jackie was.

Jackie was in the lounge, working on some music, completely unprepared for you to storm in looking like a gorgeous, dangerous storm. You didn't give him a chance to ask what was wrong. You walked straight up to him, the scent of your perfume overwhelming the quiet room, and grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, pulling him down into a harsh, desperate kiss.

Jackie gasped against your mouth, his hands flying up to your shoulders to push you back, his eyes wide with shock. "Y/N—wait—what are you doing?" he managed to choke out, his voice laced with panic. "Shit, Y/N, we can't... Mike’s my baby brother, man, he’ll kill me, we can't—"

"Jackie," you whispered against his lips, wrapping your arms tight around his neck and sliding your leg up his hip. You shushed him softly, murmuring right into his ear, "It's okay... just shut up and hold me."

Jackie groaned, his resolve (that barely existed in the first place) crumbling under the sheer weight of your persistence and the suffocating tension in the room. He didn't fight, he couldn't, his hands drop to your waist, pulling you flush against his crotch as he gave in, the betrayal sealed in the shadows of the shared home.

You and Michael are soooo toxic together.

When Michael found out, the world stopped spinning. He didn't call you to break up. He didn't send his lawyers. He showed up at your apartment like a phantom in the middle of the night, slamming the front door shut so hard the glass rattled in the frames, locking it behind him with a deafening click.

"You slept with my brother?!" Michael screamed, his voice cracking, his face flushed with a terrifying, raw rage you had never seen before. "My own fucking brother, Y/N?!"

"Oh, now you wanna talk to me?!" you yelled right back, stepping straight into his space, chest to chest, glaring up at him with tear stained eyes. "You ghost me for three fucking weeks and then parade that bitch around town for the whole world to see?!"

"So you go and give yourself to Jackie?!" he roared, grabbing a glass off the table and shattering it against the far wall. "I loved you! I gave you everything! And you destroy my family over a damn photo?!"

"You did this to yourself!" you shrieked, shoving him back with all your weight. "You play these sick, twisted ass mind games with me, Michael! You wanted a reaction? You got one! How does it feel?! Tell me how it fucking feels!"

"You're sick!" he yelled, leaning down so his face was inches from yours, his breath hot against your skin. "You're fucking insane, Y/N!"

"I'm insane?! You made me like this!" you screamed, your fists grabbing the front of his jacket, pulling him down to your level. "You pushed me! Don't you dare act like the victim here!"

The shouting match was breathless, vicious, and deafening, both of you tearing into every vulnerability, every lie, and every insecurity until there was nothing left to bleed. But as you stood there, gasping for air, chest heaving against chest, the hatred in his eyes twisted into something dark, feverish, and… hungry.

Without another word, Michael's hand shot out, catching you by the back of the neck and shoving you against the wall, slamming his mouth onto yours in a brutal, desperate kiss. You bit his lip until you tasted copper, pulling his hair, fighting him and clinging to him all at once as the argument dissolved into frantic sex.

Afterward, as you both lay tangled in the dark, gasping for breath, sweat sticking your hair to your forehead, Michael rolled over and pinned you down. His hand wrapped tight around your jaw—not soft, but possessive, leaving no room for escape.

"You think you're getting away from me after this?" he whispered, his dark eyes gleaming with an eerie, unhinged certainty. "You think you can ruin me and just walk away? No. You're stuck with me forever."

He reached into his jacket pocket on the floor, pulling out a heavy velvet box, and slid a massive, blinding diamond ring onto your finger. It wasn't a proposal. It was more of a sentence.

You and Michael are SO fucking toxic together.

The wedding was the event of the century. Millions of dollars poured into every detail—a grand cathedral smothered in thousands of rare white roses, camera flashes strobing outside, high society guests and royalty filling the pews. You looked like an absolute vision walking down the long, carpeted aisle in a custom lace gown, a picture of pure, angelic elegance.

Michael stood at the altar in a tailored black suit, looking every bit the pristine, flawless superstar the world believed him to be. As your father placed your hand in his, Michael took your fingers, his grip tight enough to bruise. He smiled brilliantly for the cameras, bowing his head gracefully as the priest began the vows.

"Do you, Michael, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife..."

Michael leaned down, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear under the cover of your veil. Beneath his dazzling, camera-ready smile, his voice was a razor sharp whisper. "If you ever look at another man again, I swear to God I'll ruin your life."

You didn't flinch. You turned your head slightly, your own angelic smile fixed firmly toward him, and whispered right back into the quiet air between you. "We'll go down together, husband."

"I do," Michael said aloud, his voice rich and clear, echoing through the cathedral.

"I do," you echoed, locking your gaze with his dark, possessive eyes.

The crowd erupted into applause as he pulled you in, claiming your lips in a long, dramatic kiss for the world to see—two ruined people tied eternally together forever in a golden, beautiful cage.

summary: ☄︎ michael lets you know the affect you really have over him

contents: ☄︎ squirting, p in v, dirty talk, spitting, creampie i guess..., porn no plot, i think that's it

authors note: ☄︎ js smth to post for now

your eyes rolled back as your arm reached back to grasp onto the headboard behind you. the wet sound of michael fucking in and out of your gushing pussy coupled with michael’s endless dirty talk and your moans sounded straight out of a porn video. michael was fucking you into tomorrow and you couldn’t do anything but to take it. It’s not like you wanted to do anything else.

“f-fuck, michael! it feels so good,” you whined out. michael’s dick was fucking your pussy so good that the only thoughts in your head was “michael” and “feels so good”. you were fucked completely dumb. “i know, baby, i can feel how tight you’re squeezing me,” michael groaned, moving his hands to hold the back on your knees, folding you in half. “your pretty pussy squeezing me like she wants me to stay and fuck her forever,” michael said, moaning sexily into the room. “yes, yes, yes,” you moaned repeatedly, sounding like a broken record but you couldn’t give a fuck when michael was fucking you this good. 

“you own this dick, baby,” michael said, leaning over to whisper it into your ear, words getting broken up by his own moans. you swear you get even wetter by his words but you could only nod and moan. “you can fuck this dick whenever you want, mama, it’s yours.” michael said, meaning every word he said. “yes, baby, i want it all the time,” you say, moaning pathetically but you didn’t care and michael loved knowing that he’s the only one that could make you feel this good.

you took his head away from your ear to make eye contact with him. your mouth opened and michael smirked, knowing what you wanted. “my dirty girl,” he thought as he spit directly into your open mouth. you moaned as you swallowed. fuck, he was making you go insane. “you want more, mama?” michael asked, moaning softly. you simply nodded and opened your mouth as he spit in it again. you swallowed and michael leaned down to desperately kiss you. it was all tongue and teeth but it was everything.

you didn’t even register that your orgasm was close until you squirted around his dick as he continued to fuck in and out of you. “there we go, baby, look at her,” michael said, looking down at your squirting pussy in amazement. you were so sensitive, you tried to push michael with your hand but he just shooed it away. “unh-unh, i need to fill my pretty girl up,” he said, still continuing his pounding. you could only whine and moan. “i love you so much,” he said, whispering it into your open mouth. you could tell he was close by how choppy his thrusts were getting. you grabbed his left hand and wrapped your mouth around his ring finger, feeling the wedding band on your tongue. michael’s hips stilled as he came inside you, painting your walls with his cum. 

you removed michael finger from your mouth and gave him a small smile, “fuck, michael, that was so good. i love you so much.” you say all out of breath. michael smiled lovingly at you as he removed his dick out of you with a hiss. you whimpered, feeling sensitive but felt better once michael moved you so you were laying on his chest.

you guys stayed silent for a few minutes. you traced small shapes on his chest while he created his own shapes on your hip. “michael,” you whisper. “hmm, baby?” michael hums, his hand rubbing up and down your side. “I’m hungry,” you say with a smile spreading across your face. michael tenderly kisses your forehead. “whatever my girl wants, she gets,” he says. his lips then move to your ear, “you own me, remember?” he says before he gets up to head downstairs to the kitchen.

you bury your head in his pillow to hide the big ass smile that broke out across your face.

damn right i do

authors note: ☄︎ lmk what you guys think..yk i love it!

my asks are open for requests or even if u just wanna talk!!

Michael Jackson x Fem!Reader

Author's note. FINALLY we grown up to write an actual smut. mindalii Masterlist.

Description: After a heated argument with Michael, the two of you don't speak for an entire week. You move into your own apartment, and there are no calls, no messages — nothing from Michael. Then, one evening, there's a knock at your door.

Warnings: porn with feelings, pathetic Mike, tension, hurt/comfort, nasty Mike, breast kink, crying Mike, reader can't stand his tears and will do ANYTHING to stop them, consent kink, domestic intimacy, sudden daddy kink, soft dom Mike, oral sex (f and m receiving).

Raiting: NC-17

You were sitting in your bed, enjoying a few quiet hours before going to sleep. It was your day off, and you'd spent it in complete comfort: you went for a walk, ordered your favorite food, and watched some old movies.

Now you were sitting with a face mask on, listening to music. Your legs were already tucked beneath a warm blanket, and you were finally relaxing.

Just then, the doorbell rang.

The last thing you wanted was to leave your warm bed and cozy bedroom. Still, you clicked your tongue in annoyance, shut your laptop, and walked out into the hallway.

"Who could that possibly be..." you muttered as you headed for the front door.

Shuffling along in your fluffy pink slippers, you looked through the peephole. The moment you saw who was standing outside, you froze in surprise. Your eyes widened.

Immediately, you rushed to the bathroom and peeled the face mask off your skin. You checked your reflection in the mirror—your freshly washed hair had almost completely dried. You looked perfect.

You had always known that your hair looked its absolute best right after washing it. Soft and long, it fell effortlessly over your shoulders, giving you a relaxed yet elegant appearance. Smiling at your reflection, you walked back to the door, already knowing exactly what kind of impression you were about to make on the person waiting outside.

Michael was standing there.

The moment your eyes met, your heart skipped a beat.

You hadn't seen him for an entire week.

He hadn't shown up. He hadn't called. You had no idea where he'd been.

Seeing him again stirred something deep inside you. Your face almost betrayed your emotions, but you managed to hold them back just in time.

Michael seemed just as happy to see you.

You could tell by his eyes how much he'd missed looking at you. Maybe he'd already forgotten what it felt like to have you by his side.

You watched his expression soften. His features relaxed, and his eyes lit up with quiet warmth.

But you knew nothing about the thoughts running through his mind. Instead, you were beginning to grow irritated that he was simply standing there, staring at you.

Folding your arms across your waist, you frowned, your entire posture making your displeasure perfectly clear.

Finally, Michael broke the silence.

"Hi, Y/N," he said.

The sound of his deep, raspy voice cut straight through your heart like a blade. You closed your eyes for a brief second.

"Can I come in?"

Without saying a word, you turned away from the door and stepped aside, silently letting him in.

As he walked inside and you felt his presence beside you again, you leaned away to close the door, almost as if you were afraid of brushing against him even by accident.

Michael noticed how coldly you'd received him.

It seemed to break his heart.

But he had expected it.

Pressing his lips together, his gaze wandered aimlessly around the room before finally settling on you.

"I'm sorry," Michael said, reaching a hand toward you.

The moment you heard those words, you grimaced and instinctively stepped back.

His sad eyes followed your movement. "I'm so sorry. I really am. I've been miserable these past few days..."

"So miserable that you couldn't even call?" you cut him off sharply, your arms folding tightly across your waist.

Just five minutes ago, you'd been peacefully enjoying your day off in your room. Now you were forced to deal with this.

It wasn't even about being angry anymore.

It hurt to see Michael like this...

But it hurt just as much to be standing here yourself.

From the very first day after your terrible argument, your heart had been telling you to let it go. To forgive him.

But your mind kept repeating the same thing over and over:

Don't make it so easy for him. He already has you wrapped around his finger. You have to show him that you're independent.

Michael drew in a shaky breath and covered his eyes with one hand.

"I'm sorry... I wanted to call you right away and admit that all of this was my fault. I've been overwhelmed with the new album... and the kids..."

"So you're doing just fine without me, Mike!" you shot back as you turned away from him.

Your footsteps echoed down the hallway.

Michael followed after you as quickly as he could.

"Baby, don't be like this..." His gentle voice only made you angrier. He could make you forget everything you'd been telling yourself every damn night so easily.

"I'm not your baby," you said firmly. "I am not for you, Michael!"

But he wasn't intimidated by you. He followed after you.

You had already reached your bedroom when he caught hold of your hands. You tried to pull away, but although his grip was gentle, he refused to let go.

"You're so wrong, baby. You're so wrong," Michael said, placing his hands around your arms as he gently backed you against your bedroom door.

You barely had time to realize how you'd ended up trapped there.

You struggled against him, but Michael's hands wouldn't let you go. And truthfully... you didn't have much will to fight back.

The way he held you...

You could feel that he needed you.

And that he was just as necessary to you.

"My life is not good without you. In fact, it's very, very miserable. I can't... I couldn't even sleep without you..."

The moment those words left his lips, he broke down in tears.

For the first time, you felt sorry for him.

Whenever you saw Michael cry, you simply couldn't help yourself. Your pride disappeared. Everything else disappeared.

Feeling an overwhelming warmth bloom inside your heart, you reached up and gently stroked his hair.

Michael lifted his head in surprise.

His face was still miserable, but the tears had stopped. He looked at you, and in his dark eyes you saw hope.

Your heart trembled.

You couldn't play with his feelings.

"Okay... I'm sorry too, if I—" you began hesitantly.

But he wasn't listening anymore.

He immediately leaned in and kissed you.

Resolving an argument was one thing.

This...

This was something entirely different.

Although the kiss left you shocked—and flustered—you still pulled away without kissing him back.

The back of your head touched the door behind you.

He was far too close.

"So... you're rejecting me now..." Mike said quietly, sadness and confusion filling his voice. His eyes slowly closed.

He searched your face desperately for some kind of emotion.

But all he found was confusion.

He was playing with your feelings. It was becoming harder and harder to resist him.

Standing in front of you, Michael looked so vulnerable... so touch-starved. You could feel his hands on you, and it took everything you had not to simply give in.

Inside you, that familiar feeling returned.

That sense of power you always seemed to have over him.

You felt it every time you were with him.

His gaze kept drifting downward.

His hands rested on your hips.

You stood before him wearing nothing but a camisole and a pair of tiny shorts.

Your bedroom felt warm and inviting, just like your bed.

You knew he'd always loved making love in your room.

Of course, once you started dating, you'd moved in with him. But before that—and sometimes even afterward—he loved coming over to your place.

He loved your bedroom because it reminded him of you. It was filled with warm colors, soft fabrics... And it smelled like you.

"Please... don't reject me," Michael said, his voice sounding completely broken.

It was becoming harder and harder to keep yourself under control.

He slowly lowered himself, pressing soft kisses against your neck and collarbones.

You realized he was practically dropping to his knees.

"I can't be anywhere but here. Only in your arms is where I belong."

Hearing those words, it felt as though bells rang somewhere deep inside your heart.

Your eyes threatened to fill with tears at any second. No one had ever said anything like that to you before.

Hearing it from Michael felt like a weight lifting off your chest.

"Okay..." you whispered.

Your hands reached for his jacket. You gently pulled him back up toward you and searched for his lips.

He met you halfway. He'd wanted this, waited for this so desperately.

Finally, it happened.

You heard Michael let out a soft, emotional moan into the kiss.

Keeping your hands on his shoulders, you guided him toward your bedroom.

He immediately took over, steering you toward your bed before you could even do it yourself.

He barely let you do anything.

That was how desperately he'd been holding himself back.

Michael pushed you down onto the bed, pinning you beneath his body. You could hear his soft moans, each one sending a sweet pulse through your chest. You tossed his jacket aside—it was still damp from the rain he'd walked through.

"Mike..." you murmured, your voice strained. Your breathing had become uneven.

"Baby..." He couldn't hold himself back. "Baby..."

He lowered himself until his head rested beside your chest. His skin was still cold from the autumn weather, and you felt the chill of his face against you. You cupped the back of his head, and he pressed a kiss just above your breast. You heard him let out a quiet sigh.

Your back arched instinctively as he nestled into the space between your breasts, finding comfort there almost like a child.

Feeling his kisses across the front of your body while his hands rested against your hips, you felt him everywhere, melting beneath every touch. He covered your chest with kisses—both the bare skin and the places still hidden beneath the fabric. A soft moan escaped your lips as you tilted your head back.

Your hands reached for his pants, and you brushed your palm over the bulge beneath the fabric, immediately realizing how aroused he was. Feeling your touch, he let out another moan and practically collapsed against your chest.

"I can't..." he whispered, his voice still thick with tears.

Exhaling softly, you lifted his face toward yours and kissed him, gently wiping away the tears with your hands. His own hands immediately found your waist. As he slowly pushed your camisole upward, every place his fingertips grazed your skin made your body tense with pleasure.

"Michael..." you whispered.

Your hand slid down to him again, stroking him. He arched into your touch, instinctively pressing himself against your hand. You felt him sink into your embrace, his entire body beginning to relax. With your other hand, you traced the lines of his stomach, lifting the hem of his shirt.

As much as Michael wanted you, there was something he wanted to do for you first.

He reached for your shorts and gently pulled them down over your hips. Your skin was still warm—almost hot—and he was dying to dive into you.

He wasn't embarrassed by how desperate he looked or by what you might think of him. He was much older than you, and perhaps he should have been able to control himself.

But there was no point anymore.

Especially when this was exactly what you needed.

Michael moved down between your thighs, pressing gentle kisses to their inner sides. Your legs drew together ever so slightly, already restless.

"Michael... please..." you breathed, your voice catching. Your thoughts had narrowed to a single point. "Baby..."

Hearing you call him that was the final straw. With a low growl, he moved closer to your pussy. His lips and tongue met you as though he wanted to devour you. A moan escaped your lips at the sensation. Your back fell against the mattress. Your hands reached toward him but froze helplessly in midair.

"Mikey..." you hissed, your voice breaking.

He began licking you, and you could feel the movement of his jaw as it rose and fell. Moan after moan slipped uncontrollably from your lips.

Michael closed his eyes in pleasure, and you buried your fingers in his hair, holding him close. His nose brushed against your folds, and you felt his warm breath against you. A cry tore from your throat before you could stop it.

"Oh God!" You didn't even know what you were saying. "Daddy... please..."

The word escaped you instinctively, though it had filled your mind in that moment.

The instant Michael heard it, his hands tightened around your thighs, hard enough for you to know bruises would bloom there later. He held you firmly against his face, his breathing growing heavier and heavier.

Your back arched. With every movement he made, you felt yourself slipping further and further away from the world around you. When Michael began sucking on your clit, your throat went dry. He ate you as though nothing else in existence mattered.

When his hands slid over your body, you felt yourself on the verge of coming.

That was the sign.

The very next second, your muscles tightened, and it felt as though you were drifting straight into heaven. Tremors ran through your entire body. You felt Michael gently lick you clean, gathering every trace of your release.

Your body went limp against the bed as you felt his hands moving back up toward you.

Michael didn't say anything.

Apparently, he had only one thing on his mind.

"Daddy?" he asked softly.

You felt something pierce straight through your chest.

The high of your orgasm faded, replaced by sudden embarrassment as you remembered what you'd just called him.

But Michael didn't seem angry.

He reached for his belt, slowly undoing it with one hand while the other gently cradled your face.

"Could you please do something for Daddy..." he murmured.

Your breath caught.

A powerful urge welled up inside you—to lean toward him... to obey.

You could feel his possessiveness wrapping itself around you.

Leaning forward, you reached for him and freed him from his underwear. He was still hard, thick, and already glistening with precum.

Taking a slow breath, you lowered your head and wrapped your lips around him.

Michael let out a low moan and rested a hand against the back of your head.

"Oh God..." he breathed. "I can't believe this."

A moment later, you felt him gently stroke your hair.

"I can't believe I have you," he whispered. "You make me so, so satisfied as a man."

Hearing those words from him sent another wave of arousal through your body.

Closing your eyes, you took him deeper.

You felt one of his hands settle against your back before sliding to the side, coming to rest on your breast. Feeling the possessive way he touched you was almost intoxicating.

You knew how vulnerable he really was—so open, so giving.

Only in bed did he become demanding.

Sometimes you thought you were the only person who had ever seen that side of him.

Your tongue glided over his skin as your head moved slowly up and down. Your body rocked with the motion, and he couldn't resist letting his hands wander over you. You felt them slide across your waist and over your hips. A quiet moan escaped your lips around him, earning you a light smack on your ass.

Your back arched as you fought back another moan, your eyes squeezing shut.

"Y/N..." he murmured, his hand moving to the back of your neck. "Can I take control?"

You nodded immediately.

It felt too good to be real.

You loved this side of Mike.

It was the only place you ever got to see it.

Suddenly, you felt Michael guiding your head with gentle but unmistakable firmness. Feeling his strength, you surrendered to him and relaxed your throat. Tears welled in your eyes from the pressure and the ache. Your throat felt scratchy, and you swallowed awkwardly twice, trying not to disturb him...

But Michael seemed to notice.

He immediately stopped.

"Oh God..." he whispered. "You're trying not to disturb me... Oh, Angel... Baby... Oh God..."

His voice broke into soft whimpers. He was so close now.

He threw his head back.

You felt his hand gently stroking your cheek.

Even in that position, you couldn't hold yourself back anymore. Feeling him nearing his climax, your own thighs trembled and drew together a couple of times before another orgasm washed over you—just as Mike came into your mouth.

His hands cradled your jaw, and for a moment you felt completely at one with him.

You swallowed, feeling warmth spread through your body as your own release soaked your thighs.

Your eyes squeezed shut from the overwhelming pleasure and the tears.

Michael immediately pulled you back up and kissed you with all the tenderness he hadn't been able to show while you were beneath him.

The way you'd given yourself to him. The way you'd wanted to make him feel good. He felt your love just as strongly as his own.

And in that moment, he realized there were no longer any limits between the two of you.

You kissed him back as he wrapped you in his warm, strong arms. His hands slid over your bare skin until he noticed the dampness on your thighs.

"Oh God... my poor baby," he whispered with a shaky breath.

He brought his fingers to his lips, licking them clean before exhaling softly.

Then he lowered himself to you once more, his gentle tongue brushing against your cunt again.

You were already so sensitive that you cried out the moment he touched you.

"Ahh... Mike!" you gasped, going limp in his embrace.

Lovingly, he continued kissing and licking you, his hands wrapped securely around your thighs.

When he finally stopped, he let out a long, satisfied breath beside you, and you were left with a warm, lingering wave of pleasure simply from feeling him there.

Michael climbed back up and settled across your waist, resting his head just above your stomach.

"So..." you said, suddenly remembering the clothes he'd been wearing outside. "You're not planning to change?"

It wasn't that you minded—it was Mike, after all.

But having street clothes in bed wasn't exactly ideal.

"Sorry," he said, immediately getting up.

You propped yourself up on your elbows.

"I think I need a shower. Do you?" you asked, a playful sparkle appearing in your eyes.

He smiled instantly.

"Of course. With you, I'd go anywhere."

Before you could react, he scooped you up into his arms and carried you toward the bathroom.

He made it look as though you weighed nothing at all, even though you were fairly tall.

"I'm so happy we can do everything together again," he said softly.

A comforting warmth spread through your chest.

Yes, it had all begun with an argument.

But what mattered was how it ended—

𝜗ৎ description: when late nights and unspoken anger boil over, midnight friction turns soft, giving way to gentle worship, raw passion, and sweet reconciliation in bed.

content: 18+, smut, hatefucking???, arguing, angst, pussyeating, prone bone n missionary, established relationship, married.

𑣲. the faint, luminous green numbers on the digital nightstand clock read 1:47 AM.

you stared at them, the harsh, electronic glow burning into your eyes as you lay alone in the absolute center of the king-sized bed. the white sheets on the left side were still crisp, flat, and untouched—cool to the touch, like a physical reminder of how quiet the house had been all evening.

he promised. he had sworn over the phone at five o'clock that he’d be wrapped up by eight at the absolute latest. then eight had turned into ten, ten had bled into midnight, and now it was nearly two in the morning. this wasn't just tonight; it was every single night this month. between his grueling studio sessions for the new record, endless video rehearsals, and non-stop business meetings, you were sharing a home with a ghost. the frustration between the two of you had been building for weeks—a slow, simmering tension composed of sharp retorts, short phone calls, passive-aggressive silence, and cold, aching distance.

with a heavy, bitter sigh, you yanked the heavy comforter up over your bare shoulder, rolling over onto your side to face the window, and forced your eyes shut.

twenty minutes dragged by in total silence. then, the quiet, unmistakable click of the bedroom door lock broke the stillness.

you didn't move. you kept your breathing steady and slow, pretending to be fast asleep. you listened to the familiar, quiet rustle of his heavy leather jacket sliding off his shoulders and hitting the arm-chair in the corner. next came the faint, soft patter of his socked feet across the hardwood floor, heading straight for the adjoining bathroom. the door clicked shut, and within seconds, the steady, warm hiss of the shower echoed through the dark bedroom for a brief ten minutes.

when the bathroom door opened again, a wave of warm steam, gentle soap, and his distinct, signature cologne drifted into the bedroom air.

the mattress dipped significantly as michael climbed into bed. he didn't hesitate or keep his distance. he immediately reached across the mattress, his long, muscular arm sliding around your waist, his hand broad and warm against your midsection as he pulled your back flush against his chest. his body heat radiated off him, his damp dark curls pressing against the cool skin of the back of your neck as he buried his face deeply into the curve of your collarbone.

"baby..." michael murmured, his voice low, raspy, and thoroughly exhausted against your skin. he pressed a soft, needy kiss to the curve of your neck, his hips nudging instinctively against your rear. "i missed you so much..."

you tensed instantly. your hand came up, grabbing his forearm, and you tried to push his heavy limb off your waist with all the strength you had.

"michael, stop," you muttered, your tone laced with cold, unyielding annoyance. "i'm trying to sleep."

michael didn't pull back. he was frustrated at the moment so he was overly confident, stubborn, and completely unyielding when it came to what he wanted. instead of retreating, he tightened his grip around your midsection, pulling you even closer until there wasn't a fraction of air between your bodies. his lips dragged slowly up the sensitive side of your neck, stopping right at the shell of your ear.

"don't do that," he whispered, his breath hot and dangerous against your ear, his tone laced with a distinct, possessive edge. "don't push me away like that. i've been thinking about getting home to you all damn day."

"well, you should've come home earlier then," you snapped, your voice rising as you shoved at his hands again. "it's almost two in the morning, michael! you gave me your word. 'eight o'clock,' you said. 'i'll be home for dinner,' you said. and where were you? sitting in a studio while i waited around like an idiot!"

michael let out a heavy, frustrated breath against your shoulder, his chest expanding against your back. "i was working! you act like im out partying or running the streets with my friends! im trying to finish this record, and the mix wasn't right. i couldn't just walk out—"

"you always have an excuse!" you spat back, rolling completely onto your stomach and burying your face into the pillow, pulling the covers tight around your shoulders to wall yourself off. "it's always the mix, or the choreography, or a meeting that ran late! you don't care that im sitting here alone every single night. im tired of it, michael. im tired, and im going to sleep."

"don't you dare say i don't care!" michael raised his voice, his tone sharp and defensively laced with anger. he sat up slightly, hovering over you in the dark, his shadow blocking out the faint light from the window. "you think i want to be stuck in a hot studio for fourteen hours? i do all of this for us! i work my ass off so we can have everything, and i come home completely exhausted, wanting nothing more than to just hold my wife, and all i get from you is a cold shoulder and an attitude!"

"because you treat me like an afterthought!" you shouted into the mattress, twisting your head to glare up at him through the dark. "you call me at five to make promises you know you're not going to keep! just tell me the truth for once! tell me, 'don't wait up, i don't care about our plans.' at least then i wouldn't waste my night waiting for you!"

"i do care!" michael snapped back, his jaw clenching tightly. "i lost track of time! is that what you want to hear? i got caught up in the music! but instead of walking in this door and getting a little bit of grace or understanding from the woman i love, i get screamed at! im sick of walking on eggshells in my own bed!"

"then go sleep on the couch!" you yelled, your voice cracking with weeks of built-up hurt and exhaustion. "if it's such a chore to come home to me, go sleep in another room!"

for a second, the room fell into a suffocating, heavy silence. you could hear his ragged, furious breathing right above you. his dark eyes burned into you through the shadows, filled with a mixture of intense anger and deep, aching frustration.

he didn't leave. he didn't get up.

instead, michael let out a low, dangerous growl from the back of his throat. slowly, deliberately, he leaned all the way back down over your body, his broad chest pressing heavily against your back, trapping you beneath his weight.

"i am not going to the couch," michael growled softly near your ear, his voice dropping to a low, commanding rumble that sent an involuntary shiver straight down your spine. "this is my bed, and you are my wife. we are not doing this silent treatment bullshit tonight."

he began to trail soft, slow, but intensely deliberate kisses down the length of your spine. his lips were warm and heavy, pressing firm against the thin fabric of your nightshirt. he moved down inch by inch—first between your shoulder blades, then down to the middle of your back, traveling lower and lower until he reached the small of your back. at the same time, his large, warm hand slid beneath the edge of the comforter, his long fingers cupping the bare, soft curve of your ass, squeezing firmly.

underneath the pillow, despite the fierce anger still boiling in your chest, a slow, knowing grin spread across your face. you knew your husband. you knew how possessive and needy he got when he felt you slipping away, and despite how furious you were, your own body was betraying you, humming with a deep, electric ache.

deciding to play his game, you slowly readjusted your position. you flattened yourself entirely on your stomach, propping your left knee high up toward your chest and arching your lower back prominent, high, and tempting, pulling the hem of your shirt all the way up over your hips. it was a clear, unmistakable invitation.

"go ahead, just be gentle..." you murmured bitterly into the pillow, your voice muffled. "put me to sleep."

michael stared down at the sharp, pronounced curve of your arched hips in the dark, a low, satisfied, and slightly predatory smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

"gladly, baby," he whispered smoothly.

you heard the faint, slow shuffling of him shifting his weight between your spread legs, followed by the soft rustle of his silk pajama pants being pushed down his thighs. a fraction of a second later, the cool night air hit your exposed skin as his broad hands reached down, grabbing the waistband of your underwear and pulling it down to your knees in one fluid motion.

before your brain could even process the sudden exposure, the wet, scalding pressure of his tongue made direct, firm contact with your core.

"ah!" you gasped into the mattress, your fingers instantly digging deep into the soft bedsheets.

michael didn't ease into it. he parted your slick folds effortlessly, his tongue working in deep, frantic, desperate licks, lapping at your wetness like a man dying of thirst. he hooked his broad hands firmly underneath your thighs, hoisting your arched hips even higher off the mattress, eating you out with a fierce, relentless rhythm. the intense combination of his hot breath, the heavy suction of his lips, and the precise, rhythmic flicking of his tongue against your swollen button had your hips twitching involuntarily against his face.

"m-michael..." you whined, your anger rapidly dissolving into a hazy, liquid heat that flooded your entire lower belly.

he didn't answer you with words, only letting out a low, muffled groan directly against your core, his licks growing faster, deeper, and harder until your entire body went completely taut. a sudden, violent wave of pure pleasure crashed through you, and you bucked your hips helplessly against his mouth, crying out softly into the pillow as a sharp, intense orgasm tore through your frame.

you lay there panting heavily, your body trembling from the sudden release, your muscles completely loose. you genuinely thought he was done—that he would crawl back up the bed, pull you tightly into his arms, kiss the back of your neck, and finally let you drift off to sleep like you had asked.

instead, you felt the heavy, rigid, blistering length of his bare shaft press firmly against your dripping entrance.

without a single second of warning, michael lined himself up and drove all the way into you in one long, powerful, unyielding stroke.

"ah! michael, wait—!" you shrieked, your eyes flying wide open in the dark.

he didn't wait. propped up high on his knees directly over you, he began to fuck into you deeply, heavily, and rapidly, his pace fast, heavy, and completely uncompromising. the wooden bed frame groaned under the sudden, forceful impact of his hips slamming against yours.

"michael, slow down!" you cried out, trying to push your hands against the mattress to slide your body forward and break the terrifying angle. "i said be gentle!"

before you could move an inch, michael's large, broad hand came down, wrapping gently but firmly around the back of your head, pressing your face down flat into the soft pillow, pinning you in place so you couldn't turn or escape his gaze.

"shh," michael growled softly against the shell of your ear, his voice deeper, darker, and far more dominant than you had ever heard it before, his hips slamming forcefully into yours without a second's rest. "you're supposed to be asleep, remember? let me handle this."

the sheer, unadulterated boldness of it made a fresh wave of genuine anger flare back up through the intense pleasure. you tried to thrash your lower body under his heavy grip, cursing at him furiously into the mattress. "you fucking asshole! you come home late as hell, keep me up half the night, and now you won't even listen to me—you don't get to be mad at me for being pissed at you!"

michael paused his rapid thrusting for a fraction of a second, his heavy grip on your head remaining rock-solid as he began to grind his hips in an agonizingly slow, agonizingly deep circle, burying himself to the absolute hilt before pulling back out to the very tip.

"im not mad, baby," michael fussed back, his voice thick with raw emotion, lust, and exhaustion as he began to drive back into you with a heavy, deliberate, punishing rhythm. "but you know how my schedule is! you know im working myself to the absolute bone right now, and i come home just wanting to love my wife, and you turn your back on me! i wish you'd just understand that for once!"

"i do understand, but you promised me—oh god—!"

your words were completely cut off as his angle shifted slightly. with your lower back arched high and your face pinned flat, every single deep, grinding thrust hit your sweet spot with terrifying, relentless accuracy. it was driving you out of your mind. you were angry, exhausted, and completely overwhelmed by how impossibly good he felt filling you up.

unable to take the intense sensory overload, you tried to leap forward, attempting to scramble out underneath from his heavy frame.

michael's dark eyes narrowed in the dark. he immediately released his grip on your head, his large hands reaching down to forcefully grab both sides of your hips. with a sudden display of strength that took your breath away, he yanked your hips backward with absolute authority, slamming your core right back onto his waiting length.

"where the hell do you think you're going?" michael breathed heavily, his broad chest heaving as he held you pinned tightly against his groin. "you wanna get mad? you wanna throw a fit? then fuck back! put all that damn attitude into this!"

the explicit challenge hung heavy in the warm, dark air. you gripped the sheets with both hands, a fierce, burning determination taking over your senses, and you began to thrust your hips backward onto him, meeting his force with equal, aggressive energy. you slammed back into his rhythm, using all your frustration, your loneliness, and your aching desire to drive the punishing pace.

"yeah... just like that," michael groaned loudly, his voice breaking as the friction intensified to a blistering heat. "fuck... baby, yes!"

it felt incredible. the raw, suffocating tension that had built up over endless weeks of missed dinners, short phone calls, cold arguments, and lonely nights was finally breaking apart, exploding into a passionate, chaotic rhythm.

michael's hand slid up from your hip, his long, delicate fingers gently wrapping around the front of your neck—not to choke you, but to anchor you, holding your upper body up off the bed slightly as he met every single one of your backward thrusts with a punishing, upward stroke of his own.

"michael... oh god, michael!" you moaned loudly, completely abandoning any attempt to be quiet or reserved.

"don't stop... don't you dare stop now," michael begged, his voice raw, his breath coming in ragged, shallow gasps against your ear. "keep going for me, baby... give it all to me."

"im—im gonna make a mess, mikey, i can't hold it—!" you sobbed out, feeling the telltale, overwhelming pressure building rapidly at the base of your spine.

"do it!" michael ordered, his thrusts becoming completely wild, desperate, and undisciplined. "let it out! make a mess all over the sheets, i don't care, just give it all to me!"

you both fucked like wild animals, completely lost to the rhythm and each other. your body hit the peak first; a violent, trembling wave surged through your core, and you squirted wildly across the sheets beneath you, your entire frame shaking as a loud, breathless scream tore from your throat.

despite your intense release, michael didn't stop. he kept pounding relentlessly into your slick, hypersensitive core, his thrusts rough and unrelenting as he aggressively chased his own climax.

the intense overstimulation became too much to bear. hot tears gathered at the corners of your eyes from the sheer power of the sensation.

"mikey... mikey, please—" you whimpered, finally pushing out from his broad grip on your neck and burying your face back deep into the soaked pillow, trying to hide from the overwhelming pleasure.

michael instantly noticed the sudden change in your tone. he saw your shoulders trembling and heard the soft, overwhelmed sob escape your lips.

his rough, aggressive demeanor evaporated in a single second.

"oh, baby... shh, look at me," michael whispered, his voice dripping with sudden, tender remorse.

instead of just lying over your back, he gently pulled his length out for a split second and rolled over onto his back. before you could pull away or hide back in the covers, his long, broad arms reached out, catching your waist and effortlessly turning you around to face him. he hooked your top leg high over his hip, pulling you up until your chest was resting against his, straddling him in the dark.

slowly, carefully, michael guided his rigid length back into your slick core from beneath, sliding all the way in until his hips were flush against yours.

you gasped softly at the sudden, complete change in view. the stark contrast of being face-to-face, looking directly into his dark, expressive eyes through the dim green light of the room, made your heart hit your ribs.

"i've got you... im right here," michael cooed softly, his long fingers coming up to frame your face, his thumb gently wiping away the stray tears on your cheek. he didn't pound into you anymore; instead, he began a slow, continuous, agonizingly sweet upward grind, rolling his hips up into yours in a gentle, seamless rhythm that filled you completely. "im so sorry, baby. im so sorry for coming home so late... and for being so rough when all you wanted was rest."

"mikey..." you breathed, your hands coming up to rest flat against his warm, bare chest, feeling the heavy, rapid thudding of his heart beneath your palms. "it just... it hurts when you're gone all the time. i miss you so much it makes me angry."

"i know... god, i know, mama," michael murmured, his voice breaking slightly as he lifted his head to press a soft, lingering kiss to your lips. his tongue slipped gently into your mouth, tasting you, taking his time to savor every slow, deep movement. his hips never stopped that slow, intoxicating grind beneath you. "i miss you every single second im away from this house. do you remember last summer? when we shut off all the phones, stayed in bed for three days straight, and just ordered takeout and laughed until our stomachs hurt?"

a soft, breathy chuckle escaped your lips against his mouth, a fresh wave of warmth blooming in your chest. "yeah... i remember."

"that's what i miss every day," he whispered, pressing sweet, peppering kisses along your jawline, down your neck, and right over your collarbone. "every time im sitting in that studio or stuck in those meetings, all im thinking about is getting back here... getting back to my girl. to my babygirl. im giving you everything you've been missing tonight, i promise you."

he lifted his hand to cup your cheek, his long, delicate fingers tracing the soft curve of your cheekbone. as his hips kept up that steady, excruciatingly deep upward roll, his dark eyes fixed entirely on your face, analyzing every single shift in your expression.

he watched the way your eyelids fluttered heavy and low, the way your lips parted to let out small, trembling gasps, and the flush creeping up your throat.

"look at you..." michael purred, his voice dropping to a low, raspy velvet that vibrated directly against your skin. "you're getting so soft for me now, aren't you? look at me, babygirl. keep those pretty eyes right on mine."

you forced your heavy gaze to meet his. the sheer intensity of his stare was intoxicating—full of pure, unadulterated worship, deep love, and a raw, sexual hunger that made your core pulse tightly around him.

"that's it, mama... just like that," michael whispered, his thumb lightly brushing across your bottom lip as his hips rolled deeper, hitting that exact spot inside you with agonizing perfection. "i can feel you tightening up around me... you're so close, aren't you?"

"mikey... yes," you whimpered, your fingers digging into the muscles of his shoulders as the tension began to coil tightly at the base of your spine again—only this time, it was pure, unadulterated bliss. "im gonna... oh god..."

"don't look away, baby. let me watch you," michael commanded gently, his eyes wide and locked onto yours, reading every subtle flicker of pleasure on your face. he speeded his upward grind just a fraction, keeping it smooth, deep, and continuous. "give it to me, mama. let me see how good your husband makes you feel. cum for me... right now."

watching his dark eyes burn into yours while he spoke those sweet, possessive words drove you straight over the edge. you let out a long, desperate moan, your walls clamping down around his shaft in a violent, hot, shattering climax.

michael didn't break eye contact for a single second as you came. he watched your eyes roll back, your jaw drop, and your throat strain with pleasure, a low, triumphant groan escaping his own chest.

"yeah... that's my girl," he growled softly, pulling your head down to capture your lips in a deep, wet, passionate kiss. his hips drove up into you with three hard, final, overflowing thrusts, and with a guttural groan against your tongue, michael spilled hot and deep inside of you, pouring everything he had left into your core.

when the intense pulses finally began to settle, michael didn't pull back or break the connection. he kept his length buried deep within you, wrapping both of his long, strong arms tightly around your waist and pulling your body flush against his chest.

he rolled slightly to the side, cradling you close so you wouldn't take his weight, but keeping your legs tangled together. his face was buried in the crook of your neck, his warm breath fanning across your damp skin as he stroked your hair with gentle, reverent fingers.

"im never letting you go," michael whispered softly into your skin, his voice thick with deep satisfaction and total exhaustion. "i love you so much, babygirl. it's always you and me."

you nestled deeper into his warmth, your fingers tracing soft patterns over his bare chest, finally feeling completely at peace in his arms. "i love you too, mikey."

for a long time, the only sound in the room was the peaceful rhythm of your shared breathing. the heavy, chaotic anger from earlier had completely vanished, replaced by an easy, quiet warmth.

michael reached up with one hand, his fingers tangling gently into your curls to brush a few stray dark strands away from your forehead. he leaned down, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your temple, then to the tip of your nose, making you giggle softly in the dark.

"hey," michael murmured, a tender, dimpled smile spreading across his face as he looked down at you. "i mean it... tomorrow, no studio. no meetings. im canceling everything. just you and me all day."

you looked up at him, raising an eyebrow playfully. "really? you're gonna tell frank you can't come in because you have to stay home with your wife?"

"i'll tell him whatever i want," michael said with a smooth, confident grin, his thumb gently rubbing your bottom lip. "im the boss. and right now, my only job is right here in this bed."

you smiled, leaning up to press a sweet, quiet kiss to his lips. "okay... i'll hold you to that, mikey."

"good," he whispered, pulling the heavy comforter all the way up over both of your shoulders, tucking you tightly against his side like a precious treasure. "now go to sleep, baby. i've got you."

──── michael jackson x fem!reader

content: minors DNI, bad!michael, exgf!reader, descriptions of anxiety, angst, michael is lonely, reader is still in love, they can't stay away from each other, no use of y/n, smut, so much smut, seriously this is filth, unprotected sex (don't be silly...), oral (fem!receiving), mirror sex, fingering, squirting, bathroom sex, semi-public, creampie(s), angry sex, happy sex, sad sex, sweet sex, soft sex, rough sex, passionate sex, dirty talk, overstimulation, pussy drunk!michael, have i mentioned this is nasty?, happily ever after

or, five times michael called you to come over, and one time he showed up at your door

wc: 11.9k

Summary: Pregnant with you and your husband’s second child, tensions boil over when you’ve had enough of him spending so much time away from his family more than usual.

Warnings: fluff, angst, fluff, angst, fluff, angst, fluff, angst :)

WC: 6.3k

A/N: This wasn’t suppose to be that long fr lol, but I love writing cute little family stuff. Not proof read. Thank you for reading. -J

You and Michael were just 18 years old when he decided he wanted to marry you. Three years later during the production of ‘Off The Wall’, you'd unexpectedly give him the greatest gift in the world, his son. Born July 1st, 1979 was Michael Esco David Jackson. When you presented the name to Michael, although he agreed to it, he spent the first month after he was born making sure you were actually okay with it. For Michael, his brothers were a source of strength, comfort, and guidance and you knew that. And if his son were to ever ask him the origins of his name, he could tell him he was named after some legends.

Only 6 months into his birth, he would gain several nicknames. Baby E, Baby Esco, Baby Esky, Junior. And sure enough, Jackie seemed to be his favorite uncle. So for the most part the family ended up calling him either Esco or Baby Esco and it stuck.

"Baby are you sure?" Michael asks as he sits behind you in a warm bath, rubbing your back and shoulders.

"Boy if you ask me that again, I'm gonna have an attitude." you playfully say as you lean your head back against his shoulder. "Yes, I'm sure. I know how much your brothers mean to you and you know how much they mean to me too."

"I just don't want to leave your input and your side of the family out." He presses his lips to your shoulder, giving it a tender kiss.

"As many kids as you want, they won't be left out. There will be room for everyone."

"So we can actually have 18 ki-,"

"No." you chuckle softly as you turn your head to look him in his eyes. "6. 7 maybe if you're good."

"I think I can settle for that."

"Waaaaaaaaaaay down the line though."

Nerves were high between the both of you. At only 20 years old, you were both so young to be parents. But one irresponsible night lead to another and you quickly learned that your husband was terrible at pulling out quickly. Nonetheless, Michael made sure that you knew he was going to be a father and continue to be a devoted husband to you no matter what.

Safe to say, way down the line didn't make it very far. Now, with the impending release of ‘Thriller’, you were pregnant with you and Michael's second child. But that wasn't really the issue. You had been watching your husband drift away for a couple months now, not out of love, just away. You knew that the pressure Joseph had him under was to blame, but that's never kept him so distant. You knew he was stressed, but honestly, when was Michael never stressed? Even when he was having a good time, the stress always lingered.

When he found out you were pregnant, he moved the two of you out of his family home in an instant. You had longed witnessed the tension, the arguments, the passive aggressiveness between him and his father since you started dating him. He needed an out for the both of  you and he took it. He moved the two of you into an estate about the same size and within the neighborhood so that he could keep the family close by.

An attentive father from the very start, it was like he was now running on autopilot when he interacted with either of you. It's been 3 months since the three of you have sat down for dinner as family. It's been 3 months since he's stopped tucking Esco into bed. 3 months since he's last held you in bed. He dare never forget to tell you that he loves you though. And when your son looked into your eyes with a face like his father's and asked you where his he was in his tiny little voice, how could you tell him that he simply did not have the time?

But Michael didn't see it that way. To him, he was going through the motions like a busy husband and father should. He was still next to you every morning you opened your eyes, but not for long. He made an appearance at breakfast, but only to grab two things off his plate and the glass of orange juice before making his way into the family studio. When he stepped out of the studio, he spent an hour max between you and Esco before he was tucked away again.

Today was suppose to be a family day, literally, yet you've never felt more alone. You lay on the big plush sectional in the family den, watching through the glass as your little ray of sunshine ran around in his swim trunks with his cousins. You smile to yourself, cheek resting on the back of your hand, as Jermaine picks him up, flipping him upside before spinning him around. His joyful squeals can be heard from a mile away.

Your happiness was soon replaced by a mild irritation that was growing stronger by the second. Here every single member of the Jackson's and your family was, but Michael. Like usual, he was tucked away in that fucking studio working himself to death for the completion of his 2nd album. Janet and Latoya tried to get you to come back outside, but you just gave them the excuse that you were a little tired from the summer heat. You leave the side door open just incase they need you.

"Uh oh big man!" you hear Jackie yell when he sees Esco attempting to pick up a basketball with his tiny hands. Siggy, Jackie's oldest at 5 years olds, walks over to what his little mind considers an extension of him and helps. He places the ball in Esco's hands and helps him hold it. The two awkward walk around like that for a bit before he gets distracted by one of his aunts, his little feet stomping over in excitement.

You continue to watch as the family interacts, sad not out of jealousy, but because you miss your husband so fucking bad. Janet is chasing him back and forth now, but when he makes eye contact with you he stops dead in his tracks. He turns and looks at you, cheesing harder than ever as he waves. And when you wave back, he waves with two hands, bouncing up and down slightly.

This instantly improves your mood and you sit up, motioning for him to come over and he takes off like a rocket, Janet rubbing his head gently and handing him a juice box before he goes. He throws himself into your arms at full force, choking on his juice slightly and you respond by patting and rubbing his back.

"Slow down there, Boogie." you say, leaning down to kiss his forehead as he twirls himself around comfortably between your legs, sipping on his juice box still. Boogie was the nickname Michael had given him because the moment he could stand on two feet, just like his father, he was grooving.

"Mama." he simply says, his voice a crackling a little and you can only hope that's he's not getting a summer cold.

"Hm?" you respond, your arms wrapped around his little frame, chin resting ever so lightly on top of his head.

"Daddy." he simply says again.

You smiled as you stood in the courtyard of your new home, watching mama Katherine, your husband and your mother from afar. He holds year old baby Esco in his arms, stomach down, like a football, gently swaying him from side to side. He giggles and kicks his feet as your mother tickles and softly pinches his chubby legs, his arms occasionally flailing and grabbing Michael's. Inside, your father and Joseph continue to walk through the house.

"I hope you're prepared to keep up with Mike's crazy ass spending habits." Tito laughs as he stands next to you with his hands shoved in his pocket, also looking towards the affectionate display. Whatever Michael is saying has the two ladies cracking up a storm. His humor and silliness was a major attraction for you. And you grin when you remember him telling you he sure hopes y'all's kids are funny.

"He's already started by buying us a house that's the same size as the one a few streets down." you answer. "As if he's planning seriously for those 18 kids he wants."

"And is still a baby his damn self."

"You were in his shoes once, Toriano." you raise an eyebrow, nudging him with your shoulders.

"Do as I say, not as I do." Tito replies and you both bust out laughing. "He's gonna kill me for telling you this, but I got to."

"I remember when Mike was scared as shit to make the first move on you." Tito begins. "And this was after y'all had already been dating for like a year. He came into Jermaine's room in fucking shambles because he thought he couldn't handle you."

"I mean he was fucking panicking." he continues. "2 years later he marries you. 4 years later you both bless me with one of my nephews."

"When you have a good group of brothers behind you, I'm sure it's easy for your confidence to grow." you say back. "He speaks fondly of all of you any chance that he gets. It's why I wanted to name Esco what I named him."

"Jermaine is very jealous by the way." Tito laughs. "He said y'all gave his nephew an extra middle name just not to make it his."

"This ain't our last kid. He'll get over it."

~

"Heywatchadoin!" Michael playfully says to Esco when he walks back into bedroom and sees him standing in his crib. Esco squeals and jumps up and down before plopping himself on his back. "Woah-,"

"I swear he gets so excited when you walk into the room." you smile as you watch Michael walk over and pick him up. He can't throw himself into his father's grasp fast enough, his little arms locking around his neck and resting his head on his shoulder. Michael carries him over, sitting down on the edge of the bed before laying on his side and setting him between the two of you.

He leans back comfortably against Michael who props himself up on his elbow. You lean forward, tickling Esco on the bottom of his foot and he kicks his feet and squeals. When you pull your hand away he reaches for it, pulling it right back as he plays with your fingers, fascinated by the beautiful wedding ring that adorns one of them. You stop him when he tries to pull it off, grabbing his nose instead.

"Aht aht." you say. "You take my ring, I take your nose."

He finds this so amusing that he throws his head back like an old man in laughter, hitting Michael in his bottom lip.

"Oop." you cover your mouth, trying not to laugh too much.

"Head big as hell.." Michael mumbles as he rubs his bottom lip that is throbbing slightly. "Must of gotten it from his grandpa..."

Within the next hour both of your boys are asleep. Michael lays flat on his back, snoring. Baby Esco is also flat on his back, on his father, fast asleep. You yawn before getting up and stretching, slowly and carefully lifting him up and setting him down in his crib and kissing his forehead. You crawl back into the bed next to your husband, kissing the side of his face before reaching over to turn the lamp off. Just when you thought you're also going to get to finally rest, the phone rings.

"I know you' fuckin' lyin." you mumble to yourself and you can already hear baby Esco stirring in his crib.

"Whoever just woke my baby up.." Michael says lowly as he's also stirred awake. "Is gonna have to answer to me personally.."

~

Latoya gasps dramatically and bounces Esco in his arms as she points in the direction of his father who is making his way into his dressing room. Michael's sweaty and exhausted, but the adrenaline after shows always kept him going. You sit there and watch in amusement at his excitement as you continue your conversation with Katherine. The closer Michael gets, the louder and more excited Esco responds.

"Who is that?!" she asks, still pointing at Michael. "Is that your daddy? Hm?"

He looks up at her, still giggling as he grabs her shirt and hides his face before popping it back out. She laughs that high pitched laugh and you can't help but snicker to yourself.

"That boy really loves his father." Katherine says to you warmly, her hand resting over yours.

"Trust me I know." you sigh out contently. "I think he can tell when someone has a pure heart. He's such a happy baby."

Michael smiles at him, stopping to wipe the sweat off of him with a towel before throwing it over his shoulder. He does a little spin before taking Esco out of Latoya's arms and hugging him, showering him with kisses. He wraps his arms around Michael, clinging to him and finally yawns. His father brought him so much peace that after terrorizing everyone for most of the show, he was finally ready to go to sleep.

He walks over to you and his mother, giving the both of you a kiss on the cheek, baby Esco falling into a deeper slumber by the second. You urged Michael to keep him awake because you knew that there would be hell to pay in the middle of the night if he didn't.

~

You lay comfortably on your side on the floor, eyes on the TV as Esco leans back against you, his little fingers playing with the necklace Michael got you a few weeks ago. When he makes a noise that somewhere between confusion and amazement you grin, grabbing his hands and giving them a kiss before running your fingers through his hair.

When Michael stumbles through the front door, with him he has some roses in his hands, a teddy bear for Esco, and a few bags full of groceries that you asked him to bring home. He sets everything down, but the two gifts, in the kitchen. When he makes his way into the sunken in living room, he immediately gets on his knees next to the both of you, apologetic.

"I know I'm few hours later than I said I would be..." he sighs out. "I'm sorry baby." He leans over to kiss Esco on the top of his head before setting the decent sized teddy bear down in front of him. Esco immediately leans over onto it, rubbing his hands across to determine whether or not he likes the texture. Michael hands you the roses and leans forward to kiss you softly.

"I'm like really sorry." he says again. "I just got-,"

"What are you apologizing for?" you ask as you stare up into his eyes, damn near falling in love with him all over again.

"I hate leaving you and Esco here alone all day while I'm busy." he admits. "I feel guilty."

"You shouldn't feel guilty for showing up and providing." you say, sitting up and kissing him again, watching Esco entertain his new teddy bear out the corner of your eye. "Even when you're at your absolute end, you're here and present."

So then what changed?

You didn't even notice that some of the family had gathered to keep you company until your husband's voice snaps you out of your memories like clockwork. And while you thought you would happy, you just ended up even more irritated instead by the words coming out of his mouth.

"Aw come on Mike!" Randy throws his arms up at the door. "Just have a burger or something man. You've been locked away all day. We haven't seen you for more than 15 minutes at a time."

"Seriously Michael." Janet agrees, also sticking her head out the door.

"Just give me like 30 more minutes!" Michael says to them as he walks backwards to retreat to his studio once again. You finally reach a breaking point as you abruptly get up from your seat and excuse yourself from the few family members in the den, brushing past Randy and Janet that are still standing in the door.

You're quick and heavy on your feet despite being 6 months pregnant. A few eyes follow you across the backyard and they already know that you're on a mission. They don't blame you. Nope. Not one bit. He's so focused on the studio door in front of him, he doesn't even hear that you're catching up to him. And when he swings the door open, he expects it to close behind him shortly thereafter, but it doesn't. He looks over his shoulder before turning fully around when he realizes that it's you.

"Oh sorry sweethe-," he begins, but you immediately cut him off by slamming the door behind you.

"Why are you the only one not out there?" you ask, trying not to raise your voice immediately, tears wanting to form in your eyes. A hand rests on your hip, another on the door handle as you stare him dead in his face.

"I'm working." he simply says.

"On the ONE day that the family decides that everyone shouldn't be? You are literally the ONLY ONE, Michael."

"Not everyone is working on producing-,"

"Michael Joseph Jackson, I promise you that I will cut everything in this motherfucking house OFF."

"Will you calm down?" he says with a calmness that almost makes you turn into a wild animal. He literally cannot be this dense right now, but he is. "I did the same thing during ‘Off The Wall’ and nobody said anything."

"You did the same-," you hysterically repeat before laughing to yourself so you genuinely don't lose your mind.

"What's so funny?"

"No. NO." you say through a clenched jaw. "During ‘Off The Wall’ you were present. During ‘Off The Wall’ everyone still got to spend time with you. During ‘Off The Wall’ you were still paying attention to your fucking family."

"During and after ‘Off The Wall’." you continue, dragging out your words. "I was able to see my husband and my son was able to see his father."

"Baby what are you talking about?" he asks in genuine confusion.

"Yeah I'm about to fuck this whole place up." you say at the height of your pregnant emotions.

"Okay." Michael takes a seat on the edge of the table behind him, running his hands down his face. "Are you serious or is this your-,"

"I'll smack the fire right out your mouth boy." you say with an attitude.

"I really wish you'd tell me what the problem is." he says, starting to get irritated as well. "’Thriller’ is set to be released before the end of this year. I. Am. Working."

"Go ahead and keep prioritizing business over family." You don't really have the energy to fight with him and you're really thinking about crying, but you don't want to break now.

"I'm literally still here!" Michael yells slightly. "You have infinite access to me! I'm still taking care of OUR son. I change his diapers, I feed him, I make sure he has whatever he needs! Every damn day!"

"You just like your damn daddy thinking doing simple shit makes up for lost time." the words slip out of your mouth faster than you can catch them and you both freeze and just stare at each other. "Michael I-,"

"I'm just like my damn daddy huh?" he asks you and you can hear the cry in his throat. The last thing Michael wanted to be was like his father. Sure. Joseph provided everything that his children needed, but he wasn't a father. He wasn't the father they needed him to be. And when Michael married and bred you, he promised that Esco would know what it was like to be loved unconditionally for who he was and not whatever talent he could possess. Hearing these words come out of your mouth, even though you knew it was far from the truth, broke him.

"Baby-,"

"I'm just like my damn daddy..." Michael repeats as he wipes his mouth, chuckling quietly to himself as he walks past you.

"Michael.." you grab his arm and he stops and looks into your eyes and beyond your soul.

"I'm just like my damn daddy." he says to you. "I'm just like my damn daddy..."

"I didn't mean it like th-,"

"So then what the fuck did you mean? Huh?"

"Michael I just.." you begin, your voice cracking. "I just miss you. Esco is always asking about you. The night after you won your grammy.. you just-,"

"I busted my ass day and night for that album just for them to play in my face and give me one grammy." he says through gritted teeth. "They won't get the chance to disrespect me again? You hear me?"

"So you're willing to neglect your fam-,"

"IM NOT NEGLEC-," he stops himself when he looks down at your stomach, not wanting to stress you or the baby out. "I'm not neglecting my family. This album has to be it. It has to be. The world doesn't look at us past our skin color and what we have to offer."

"I gotta make sure my son sees that you can get anything you want as long as you work for it." he continues. "And you wanna know what makes me different from Joseph?"

"Michael I know you're not like him." you say as the tears start falling.

"Esco can call me dad. Esco can come to me crying about the silliest thing and I won't make fun of him and I'd never put my hands on him." he says, ignoring what you just said. He presses his nose firmly against the side of your face incase you can't hear him. "Esco will always know what it's like to feel a fathers love. Esco will get to take part in all his interests and not have any pressure on his back. Esco will get to celebrate birthdays, holidays, and whatever else.."

"So before you tell me that I'm just like my damn daddy."  he chuckles on the side of your face. "Consider the way I was brought up then and then consider the way Esco is being brought up now. I'll NEVER be like Joseph. NEVER."

With those words said, he respectfully pulls his arm away from you and walks through the studio door, leaving you with your thoughts and his words. Everyone is shocked and happy to see him leave as quickly as he entered, but those faces are quickly replaced with looks of concern when they see the look on his face and the way he's walking.

"You alright?" Marlon tries to stop him, but he just pushes right past him and keeps going. The only voice he doesn't have the heart to ignore is the one little one that screams daddy as he walks by. He stops and turns around, forcing a smile to appear on his face when he makes eye contact with Esco who caught him through the den door. He turns and walks in that direction instead, not saying a single word to anyone else in the room.

In one quick motion he scoops him up into his arms, giving him a tight hug before carrying him into the main part of the house.

"Daddy done with work?" Esco asks and Michael simply nods before giving him a kiss on his temple and rubbing his back.

A mixture of yours and his family start to grow extremely worried when they don't see you exit the studio after about 10 minutes. Rebbie and Latoya take the initiative to make the first move and both frown when they find you on the studio sofa in tears. And once you finally calm down and explain the conversation, everyone has different opinions.

"No." Latoya disagrees with Rebbie. "He knew damn well what she was talking about. He took her words and spun them out of proportion. With that attitude he was acting just like his damn daddy."

"Now I do think it's fair to consider Michael's workload and work ethic." Rebbie says. "I think this is all just a big misunderstanding. You girls know. You know when Michael gets in the zone there's no taking him out of it."

"When Michael decided to have a family, he decided to make some sacrifices. And I'm not saying he should sacrifice his entire career.. but..."

"I think that as Michael continues to gain his independence, he needs a little more structure." Rebbie sighs as she rubs your back while you sit there silently, just listening to what they both have to say. "He's so use to doing everything on a schedule.. Joseph's schedule at that."

"I should of never said he was like him.." you interject.

"Well he sure was acting like it..." Latoya mumbles as she rolls her eyes and runs a hand through her hair. "I'm trying to give him some grace, but it sucks to watch the man you love slowly fade away not only in his physical presence, but mentally too."

Inside the house, Michael paced around with Esco in his arms as he tried to determine what his next move would be. He was hot, but couldn't outwardly show it. He didn't want to.

"You sure are getting heavy boy." Michael says to him as they stand in the middle of living room, staring out the window as everyone continues in the festivities outside.

"Big, strong!" he squeals. "Like uncle Esco and uncle Randy!"

"That's right." Michael chuckles.

"Mike." Marlon calls for him as he walks through a side door, Jermaine trailing behind him. A few of Esco's cousins come scrambling behind them as well, asking Michael if he can please let him come back outside and play. Michael sets him down, watching as he runs off towards the group. He slips his little hand into Stacee's as they dart out the door, the sound of children's screams and laughter filling the air.

"You gonna keep ignoring us or what?" Jermaine asks with an eyebrow raised.

"What does everyone want from me?" Michael asks as he faces the two of him, a hard look on his face.

"What are you going on about?" Marlon asks.

"Oh so we're all just gonna stand here in and play the question game now, huh?" Michael shifts his stance slightly.

"What the fuck is your problem?" Marlon asks again.

"No what's everyone else's problem?" Michael asks. "What do y'all want? What does everyone want from me? Tell me."

"Are you really standing in front of us getting mad because everyone wants to spend some time with you?"

Jermaine asks. "You know how hard it is to get ahold of you outside rehearsals?"

"Y'all don't need me."

"We absolutely do need you."

"No, wait. Hold on. What do you mean by that?" Marlon asks. "Cause I know you're not implying what I think you are. So tell me, my twin, what do you mean by that?"

Michael stands there and continues looking at the both of them without saying anything because he is implying exactly what Marlon thinks he is. Which is crazy because that's not even the context of the situation.

"Riiiiight. You think this is about business." Marlon continues with an irritated smirk on his face. "Because I'm sure when your wife marched in there after you, it was about business. Right?"

"Joseph has you so hardwired that now even when we delegate family time, you still can't separate business from leisure." Jermaine adds. "Everyone has spent the entire day with each other except for you. It's 4 in the afternoon and we've all been up since 8. How much have we seen of you?"

"I think the three of us should go for a long drive." Marlon suggests. "Don't you think so Jermaine?"

"Yeah. I do."

"Michael honey, I'm fine." you say to him as you run your fingers through his hair before cupping underneath his chin. This is the 6th time he's stepped out of the booth within the last hour and a half to check on you. You had long offered to leave the studio to give him his space, but he insisted on having you right underneath him.

"You sure? Can I get you anything? Hungry? Thirsty?" he asks with pure devotion in his eyes. He rubbed every part of your aching body, offering you temporary relief.

"Michael. At this rate you're not gonna get through Workin' Day and Night before the sun goes down." You run your finger along his jawline and he grabs your hand and kisses it before pressing it to his cheek. "And I'm not gonna sit here and listen to you tell me that I must be seeing some other guy instead of you."

"Ahahaha." he laughs. "You got jokes."

"I learn from only the funniest man on the planet."

"Ooo don't let Marlon hear you say that."

He kisses you slowly and tenderly, tuning out all thee other bodies in the room before standing up from kneeling and stretches. He rubs your stomach and smiles to himself as he takes a few sips of water before stepping back into the booth.

~

You smile wide as you stand stage side with your mother and your mother-in law as you watch Michael prance around the stage with two year old baby Esco in his arms, his hold and strong firm as he bounces him up and down to the beat of the music. If the crowd wasn't lively already, they were when Randy decided to come scoop him up from stage side.You admire your husband and his brother's work ethic as even with Esco moving around between their grasps, they never missed a beat.

"She's says that workin'." Michael sings into the mic, changing up the lyrics slightly, as he looks at his son who is as giddy as can be in his arms. "Is what a man's suppose to do." 

"And I say it ain't right.." he continues, his smile growing wider and wider at his son's happiness. "If I can't give sweet love to her."

Marlon is right off Michael's shoulder as they continue moving and Esco reaches out for him. Michael passes him off with ease, pinching his cheek gently as he continues to sing. Marlon carries him around now, alternating between carrying him at waist and shoulder level and even in the air. When he needs to use his entire body, he places him on Jackie's shoulders.

His hands make their way around Jackie's forehead as he hangs on for dear life, giggling the entire time while his favorite uncle continues to dance. You wipe the happy tears away from your eyes when you feel your mother’s warm embrace around you.

“You know.” she begins in your ear over the music. “As your father and I watched you grow, I prayed that you’d find someone to love you the same way your father loves me.”

“Now I didn’t think you’d still be so young, but.” she continues. “I’m glad it’s him.” Your mother’s words leave you speechless and all you can do is turn around to hug her.

~

Michael has no choice but to go with his brothers because he knows they won't leave him alone. Jermaine tells everyone that they're "simply going to the store" and will be back in a bit. Michael sits up front with Marlon, Jermaine in the back, but middle seat as they drive off. They reassured Bill that they would be fine.

By the time they had gotten back, the sun was setting, much to everyone's irritation. But, Michael needed the very long conversation. He was still in a piss poor mood when the three of them returned, but he had a better understanding of what the issue was. However, things would remain awkward between the two of you for the remainder of the of the evening even as the both of you continued to interact with the rest of the family.

The two of you assisted in giving y'all's three year old a bath before bed, not exchanging more than a few sentences at a time. After Michael put him to bed, he joined you in bed, scooting over to give you a kiss on your cheek before scooting back over to his side of the bed. You immediately turn around to face him, grabbing him and pulling him back to you before pressing your lips against his.

A slow and heated kiss is shared, but it’s left at just that. The following morning when the sun rises and you open your eyes, you’re slightly startled to see Michael still next to you when he hasn’t been in so many months. At some point in the night the two of found your way into a cuddle and so you find yourself completely snug against his chest. He looks so peaceful when he sleeps and the guilt of what you said yesterday immediately hits you like a brick.

You take the opportunity to slowly sneak out of the bed, taking a shower and freshening yourself up for the day. When you check on Esco, he’s just now opening and rubbing the sleep out his eyes. He turns around slightly still on his stomach and still rubbing his eyes as he looks at you.

“Mama?” he questions, more for himself while he still can’t see. And when he realizes that it is in fact you, his mood changes from still sleepy to excited. “G’morning mama!” He yawns as he crawls out of his bed and walks over to you, one of his stuffed animals by his side.

“Good morning cutie pie!” you say happily as he slips his hand inside of yours. Walking to the top of the stairs, he holds your hand even tighter before stopping completely.

“Need to go slow.” he reminds you. “Can’t hurt your belly.”

“So smart and caring just like your father.” you praise him.

“Daddy is the best!” he agrees as the two of you slowly make it down the stairs.

“He sure is.”

You wish you could take back what you said and you wish you would of approached Michael a different way about it, but it’s in the past now. By the time he wakes up and makes his way down stairs, you’ve already eaten and fed Esco. You almost forget the two of you even argued yesterday as you watch him continue to walk down the stairs. The post sleep look always fits him so perfectly.

“Good morning the loves of my life.” he says groggily as he throws himself onto the soft carpet where Esco kneels, playing with some of his toys, the tv merely background noise.

“Hi daddy!” he says. “You sleep too much.” Michael just chuckles because he knows he actually doesn’t sleep enough.

“I’m sorry.” you say. “We wanted to wait for you, but I didn’t know when you’d get up.”

Michael throws his arms around Esco, pulling him for a hug before he props himself up on his elbow next to him, letting him continue to play with his toys.

“Don’t ever wait on me to eat if you’re hungry sweetheart.” Michael reminds you. “Can we talk actually?”

You don’t even let him finish his question before you start nodding. He rises to his feet before grabbing both of your hands and helping you up. Walking just out of ear shot of baby Esco, you lean against the wall to the entrance of the dining room, looking up at Michael as he stands in front of you. And when he makes eye contact with you, you both say it at the same time.

“I’m sorry.”

“I shouldn’t have said what I did.” you piggyback right off of him.

“Don’t apologize for it.” he says, honestly. “I needed to hear it. Did I want to? Ehh, not really. But I needed to.”

“No, Michael. Listen to me.” You place a finger firmly on his chest. “I was wrong and out of pocket. You’re nothing like Joseph and I know you never will be.”

“I know you didn’t mean it.” Michael wipes away a tear from your eye before it can make its way too far down your face. “But after some thinking and much needed conversation, I realized that maybe you weren’t all the way wrong.”

“I don’t want you believing you’re anything like your father for a split second.” you slide your hands up his chest before cupping both sides of his face. “Maybe I just got too spoiled when things were a little easier..”

“Not at all.” Michael is quick to defend you from yourself. “I don’t consider you spoiled. I think of it as you getting everything that you deserve. And baby you deserve so much.”

“I’m sorry that I haven’t been present with you and Esco.” he continues. “There’s just so much push and I’m so use to always having to do something.. I just.. I don’t know. I guess I don’t know how to take a break.”

“I know how much this means to you and I don’t want to take it away from you. We can wa-,”

“Don’t ever say that to me again.” Michael says seriously. “Wait my ass. You and my children are my priority.”

“But this is your career.”

TW : foodplay :)

Your shirt was buttoned open, your plump breasts on full display for him as you straddled his lap, the rhinestones on his pants slightly poking your thighs.

Michael grabbed a slice of cake, lazily smearing the frosting across your chest and over your tits.

He was a sucker for them—both figuratively and literally. What could be better than making them even sweeter than they already were?

He took another bite of the cake before diving into your lips. You twirled your hands through his hair, grinding instinctively against his clothed, hard cock.

You licked the frosting off his soft lips before he brought his kisses lower and lower, until he reached the sweet area he’d been eager to taste.

He placed small, delicate licks across your tits, occasionally biting them or sucking the remaining pieces of cake from your skin.

“Nghh, Mikey!…” you whined, throwing your head back.

The car’s movement didn’t help, the friction of your clothed cunt rubbing against his hard cock.

He guided your hips slowly, never taking his attention away from your chest.

His tongue moved expertly, his teeth nibbling your nipple as he moved his right hand to cup your boob, helping push it deeper into his mouth.

His moans and groans filled the car. “Oh my God,” he mumbled, or at least that’s what you thought he said.

He grabbed another piece of cake, messily rubbing it over the tit he hadn’t given as much attention to yet.

He took another bite before bringing the cake to your mouth.

“Open.”

You obeyed almost immediately, taking a bite.

He then moved his attention to your left tit, giving it the same attention, sucking on your nipple until you felt his sharp teeth tugging at the soft flesh harder than before.

“Oh! Fuck, Mike!” You kept grinding against him, enjoying the sensation of the stinging pain.

“M’sorry, doll. I just want to eat you.”

He tilted his head up slightly looking at you with those doe eyes of his before moving back to the pump flesh infront of him.

A moment of desperate humping against each other passed before you felt the familiar knot forming in your abdomen.

“I-I’m close,” you barely managed to get out.

“Let go, mama. Just let go f’me,” he whispered against your skin.

And that was all it took for your climax to crash over you like a wave, your back arching as you came.

With your boob still filling his mouth after the desperate grinding, he grunted hard, cumming inside his jeans.

He let go of your chest, but not completely. He still brought his hands up to massage them as you slowly came down from your high.

You felt yourself falling asleep to the sound of both of your ragged breathing and the still-moving car, resting your head against his shoulder.

He brought a hand down to your ass, giving it a squeeze.

“Don’t pass out now,” he continued. “I ain’t done with you just yet,” he breathed.

⋮ ⌗ ┆imagine michael soft launching the idea of having kids

the movie played quietly in the background as your fingers drifted through michael’s hair, gently untangling the curls that had fallen across his forehead.

it had been a long day for him, evident in the way he’d barely made it through the door before finding you on the couch, mumbling about how you were the only part of today he was looking forward to.

now, with his head resting in your lap, the weight he’d been carrying seemed to disappear little by little beneath your touch. your fingers traced patterns against his scalp, earning the occasional sigh that made you smile to yourself.

he’d always melted into your hands like this. “you know,” you murmured after a while, glancing down at him, “you’re supposed to be watching the movie.” he smiled softly, “i am.”

“you haven’t looked at the screen in ten minutes.”

“i like this better.” you laughed quietly, shaking your head before your attention returned to the television. neither of you cared much about what was playing anymore.

it had become background noise hours ago, filling the comfortable silence that neither of you ever felt the need to interrupt. michael’s thumb brushed absent circles against your knee.

it was so absentminded you weren’t sure he even realized he was doing it. “i think…” he started, his voice barely above a whisper, “…our little girl would fall asleep before the opening credits.” your hand stilled.

for a moment, you thought you’d imagined it. “our… little girl?” you asked, your voice just as quiet. only then did he seem to realize what he’d said. a faint pink dusted his cheeks as he tipped his head back enough to look up at you.

“i’ve thought about it,” he admitted, almost sheepishly. “sometimes.”

your heart swelled. “what else have you thought about?” his smile was small, almost bashful. “she’d probably have your eyes.” his gaze softened as it lingered on your face. “i hope she does.”

you smiled softly, looking down at him. “i can see it now.”

he glanced up at you. “see what?”

“her.” you paused, almost laughing at yourself.

“sitting between us while we read to her. probably trying to turn the pages before we’re even finished.”

he smiled at that, his eyes going a little softer. “she’d definitely do that.”

“and she’d probably have you wrapped around her finger.”

you laughed quietly, brushing your fingers through his hair. he settled back against you, smiling to himself. “i think i’d like that.”

“me too.” the room went quiet again, but neither of you felt the need to fill it.

you could almost picture it. the little giggles, the half—finished bedtime stories, a tiny pair of hands turning pages too quickly.

for a moment, it felt almost real.

tags: @swavydadon @mirasjointtttttt @enjoyherself @shaeluvaa @nylauhh @fruitbeg @thatgirl-vee @tickettodream @cillianmurphyapologist @essenceofvxnilla

* ˚  ✶ content/warnings: angstyyy, mean michael with a mean reader, NASTY AND HATEFUL SMUT, rivals to lovers, inaccurate details lowkey, slowburn till it gets real spicy, setting takes place at the infamous 1984 Grammys night  * ˚  ✶ WC: 10k (oops) * ˚  ✶ A/N: this is so long and i debated making this into multiple parts, but i wanted y'all to EAT the tension. comment how you feel about their dynamic because i was ready to punch them both and i was the writer mind you...

﹏﹏﹏

CELEBRATORY DINNER 

Michael rolls his eyes, masking his annoyed look behind his glasses. He spots you across the room, shaking hands with your fellow colleagues in the room. It was a few days after the 26th Annual Grammys, and all the Grammy-award-winning artists were invited to a celebratory dinner. Michael would be content with his victory, as he broke the record and won eight awards that night for his album, Thriller. The problem? You also won eight awards for your album. 

Everyone in the room was shocked- a record like that has never been broken, let alone twice in one night. Michael remembers biting his bottom lip so hard that he drew blood as you walked onstage, a smirk planted on your face as you accepted the award and gave a short yet detailed speech. He would’ve been happy if it were someone else, don’t get it twisted. He isn’t that selfish. However, when it comes to you, he’s the most selfish he can be. 

﹏﹏﹏

5 YEARS AGO 

The competition between the two of you began a few years back, before he released his first solo album. He remembers the first time you met so vividly, more than he should, honestly. He was in Las Vegas for a performance with his brothers and had visited the venue a few nights prior. He walked inside with his security guard, Bill, ready to take a small tour, before a voice so melodic and powerful stopped him in his tracks. His brows furrow, running his hands down his pants before he walks to where the singing comes from. His breath hitches slightly, watching as you pace back and forth on the stage. 

“Guys, let’s fix the light on this part of the stage. I want the center to be on me.” You spoke into the microphone, and people nodded to your orders as they adjusted the light. Michael squints his eyes, making sure his vision wasn’t deceiving him. 

“Is that-“ Bill begins, and Michael hums, interrupting him. 

“Yes, that’s her.”

The Jackson family knew who you were, too well. You were a year younger than Michael, and your success had been skyrocketing off the roof and into the stars, not backing down. You released a single at the same time as them, and it beat them on the charts by one place—number one, to be exact. You were interviewed by some reporters who asked how you felt about beating the talented and famous Jacksons. 

You shrugged your shoulders, brushing your hair out of your face, feeling indifferent to the question. “Well, what can I say? Maybe they’re outdated compared to the new type of music the world wants these days.” The family fumed as your response sat on the front page of the newspapers for weeks. Outdated? The Jacksons? Never. Michael replayed the clip over and over, using it as a motivation as he worked on his album, Off the Wall, during his nights. Michael never wanted to be outdated; he wanted to be timeless. He wanted to make sure his music would live on forever. He knew this wouldn’t happen if he kept just making music with his brothers, so he released his studio album and was proud of the success. He would nod as reporters pointed out how his singles were charting the billboards, not missing how they’d be boldly asking how he felt beating your record.

“I want to be timeless. I think this album does an amazing job at this.” Michael would respond, hinting at your remark in the press. You rolled your eyes as you watched the interview, cigarette in hand, as your knee bounced up and down, as his soft yet taunting voice filled the silence in your living room. 

Michael Jackson was talented; you could confidently admit that. But God, he was so egotistical, just like every other man in the music industry. You were above all the other women in the music industry; you were proud of that. But being a woman kept you from rising above on the latter any further, and your recent single was a barrier you were proud to break. Everyone comparing you to the Jacksons ticked you off. It made it seem like your talent always had to be compared to men. This led you to build a small resentment for the group, one you’d never actually say out loud. Or so you thought. 

You take a small break from your rehearsal, irritated at your team’s inability to comply. You needed this tour to be perfect, and opening in Las Vegas was the ultimate masterpiece move to ensure you’d secure sales for your upcoming album. Your assistant comes up to you and nods his head at two people, just feet away from the stage. You recognized the shadow just by a single glance, and it made your insides begin to swarm. Annoyance, shock, and attraction all in one, and you hated every single lustful flutter.

“Well, look at what the damn cat dragged in.”

Michael lets out a laugh, walking down towards the center of the room, closer and closer to you. “More like the press. Your press, to be exact.” 

You let out a satisfactory hum. “Is that so?”

Michael nods, looking around, mentally noting the details of your stage. He noticed how the stage light perfectly highlighted your features. He wanted that same effect, plus more. You noticed him studying and pointed to your crew member, giving him a warning look. He stops the effects altogether, directing another crew member to turn the lights on. Michael laughs, shaking his head as he smirks at Bill. “I’m not here to steal your ideas, girl. I was just in town, you know, for our three sold-out nights coming up.”

You scoff, wiping the sweat off your forehead as you walk to the edge of the stage, eyeing Michael carefully. “How pitiful it must be, to not be able to sell it out yourself. It seems you still have to have your brothers by your side to keep going.” 

Michael’s eyes widen in surprise at your venomous words. He didn’t expect kindness out of you, maybe cordial words, yes, but this? This was pure disrespect. A level of disrespect so deep that he was scared that biting his tongue wouldn’t do enough justice to help him suppress his resentment towards you. 

You smirk, taking a seat and crossing your legs. “Did I hit a nerve? I’m sorry, I forgot I wasn’t in an interview.” 

“Why must you be so mean? I’ve never once said anything to make you dislike me.”

“Oh, I don’t dislike you, poor thing. I’m just not passing out like every other woman out there, and it seems that bothers you, which bothers me.” You respond, shrugging your shoulders. 

﹏﹏﹏

WEEKS BEFORE GRAMMYS CELEBRATION DINNER 

And since that moment, Michael has disliked your name, your face, and even your music. It was hard to avoid you, given your growing fame. Your music was beginning to stream everywhere, competing alongside other big names on radios and in shopping malls, and even his workers were playing your songs. 

There was a recent moment, a few weeks before the Grammys night, when the two of you were set to be a part of a photoshoot together, meant to commemorate the world’s current big stars. You declined at first, not wanting to share any space with him, but your manager insisted it’d introduce you to another world of business. “Sponsorships,” she called it. You accepted, wanting no unnecessary contact with him before the shoot. 

Michael felt the same, probably even worse. He practically begged his manager not to let him do the shoot. He reminded his team that he wanted to do no press for this album; he wanted to go big because people truly loved his music. 

“This will look good for the members of the voting committee, Michael.” He was told, and if it weren’t for his mother next to him, he’d throw everything in front of him on the floor. They had a point, and he knew this too. The only detail keeping him from being completely grateful for the opportunity was the fact that he’d have to share it with you. 

The day came, and the two of you arrived minutes apart. You walked into the building, sunglasses on, while you signed some documents your assistant was handing to you. You look up, Michael’s gaze on you. He tightens his lips, fingers fidgeting with one another as you walk past him without a double look. Once again, he didn’t expect you to hug him or be so interested. But it’d been years since he’d last seen you, and he expected at least a greeting. 

“Fine, let it be that way.” He mutters under his breath, following behind you. He pretends not to notice the sway of your hips, the way they move so beautifully as you take each step. He puts on his sunglasses, using that to cover the fact that his eyes couldn’t stay off of you. You were mean, a very rude thing, but you were so beautiful. Michael’s exact type. He would’ve asked you out long ago if it weren’t for the weight of your cold heart. His cock hardens at the thought of gripping your hips under his touch, using all his force to pound into you mercilessly. He shakes his head. Why is he thinking like this? He hates you. 

He walks into the office and finds you reading a document. Your assistant looks up, gulping at Michael as he sits across from you. “Hello, Mr. Jackson.” 

“Please. Call me Michael. We’ll be working together for some time, I see.” Michael curtly smiles at your assistant, and you take your glasses off, rolling your eyes. “Since when were you a Michael lunatic?” You turn to your assistant, irritation creeping up on your skin. The last thing you needed was an acquaintance formed between your worker and your pesky colleague. 

“I’m not.” Your assistant whispers, a hint of fear and regret laced in his tone. 

“Good. Keep it that way.” You sharply say, turning to give Michael an annoyed look. 

“How are you?” Michael asks, and your breath hitches. His words would carry purity to them if he meant them. However, you know he wasn’t interested in your well-being. He was interested in your downfall, to see you crumble and call it quits forever. 

“Better than ever.” 

“You won’t even ask how I’m doing?” 

You shake your head, feigning a look of innocence. “No. Because I don’t care how you’re doing.” 

The room is silent, the air conditioning being the only noise either of you wishes you could really focus on. Instead, for you, your eyes rake over Michael’s ungloved hand. The veins in his hand begin to emerge, anger laced in between them. You shift your legs slightly, choosing not to focus on the wetness beginning to drip from your core. His hair was so perfectly styled against his face that it stood no chance against the flyaways standing out from yours. 

You knew about his burn incident weeks prior, and you wished you hadn’t felt the sharp pang in your chest as you looked at the pictures of him in the hospital. Your team advised you to send flowers, a “comprising gift,” they referred to it as. You declined. 

He looked so damn good, and he knew that. He sat there, proud as ever, as he focused on the emotion behind your eyes. He knew the true meaning behind your eyes. It was behind his. He had no shame, raking his eyes down your face, to your chest. He bites his bottom lip, looking away from your cleavage and to the door.

You sit in silence for almost half an hour, humming along to a popular song on the radio (your song), and continue signing documents. Michael takes glances at you, staring at the concentration in your eyebrows, at the shape of your lip as you bite it occasionally. He watches the flicker in your lashes, noticing how real you look in front of him. No makeup, no costumes, no words. Just you in silence. 

The door opens, and you look up, setting your pen down as you stand to shake the editor’s hand. “Hi.” 

You exchange names, and she smiles at you. “Thank you for accepting. The both of you. This will help you both succeed much further.” 

“I’m glad I can help.” You laugh, and Michael gives a sarcastic laugh, shaking the editor’s hand as you all walk out. 

“Okay. Here’s the plan. You’ll be wearing a few different outfits, most of which will match. Mr. Jackson, we got the approving list.” You turn to Michael, eyes twinkling with confusion. He got to give restrictions? 

“I’m sorry. A list?” You huff. 

The editor, Ellen, looks between the two of you, confusion in her eyes as she licks her lips. “Yes, Mr. Jackson sent a list on behalf of both of you.” 

Your mouth parts, and your breathing becomes more aggressive and defensive. Michael lets out a soft laugh, hands on his hips as he watches your face crumble. Smile. You don’t want him to see you fall apart. “That’s correct, my apologies. It seems I may have forgotten.” 

The editor smiles, points to your dressing rooms, and introduces you to your makeup and hair artists. You get familiar with the people and the room, taking a seat in front of the vanity mirror. You shake your head, turning to your assistant. “I hate his guts.” 

Your assistant nods, crossing his feet. He doesn’t say anything; he knows better than to. So he stands there, listening to your pessimistic rantings. He wants to roll his eyes. Just fuck already, is what he wants to truly say. Instead, he hums, nodding his head to every single thing you spit out. You’re interrupted by your makeup artist, who smiles at you as she begins to shade-match your skin complexion with the makeup in her hands. You build a conversation, making the process go faster and much more smoothly. You almost forget what this photoshoot was for, and who it was with, before she applies lipstick on your mouth and whispers, “This will go so perfectly with Mr. Michael’s cheek colors.” 

You let out an unsatisfactory groan. “Right.” 

Michael, across the room, listened attentively to his makeup crew. He was a perfectionist and wanted meticulous attention to detail in his makeup. He, more specifically, however, wanted to make sure the discoloration in his face wasn’t evident. He wanted even strokes and shade, to ensure no one could see it at all. He didn’t want anyone to see the unevenness in his tone; it was an insecurity he had built up over the years. He didn’t want you, out of all people, to notice it up close. 

It was hours later, and you two were finally dressed and in your makeup. You take a look at your first outfit. It’s a beautiful, brown leather dress, one that matches Michael’s brown leather jacket. You run your hands down your sides, pitching at the tight leather. You weren’t typically insecure; you loved your body and knew you captured most people's attention when you walked into a room. But for some reason, right now, you felt uncomfortable. The leather against your skin made you feel suffocated, and the blue details in your hair made you feel like a prop. You brushed off the feeling, feigning a smile in the mirror before walking out of the room and into the crowd of crewmembers adjusting the cameras, lights, and set. 

“You look beautiful. That dress looks even better on you.” Ellen exclaims, clapping as you give her a small smile. You spot Michael walking towards both of you, and you pretend that the sight of him in casual attire doesn’t affect you. Your outfits match well together, and if you weren’t familiar with the distaste you both had for one another, you could easily look like a married couple. However, that wasn’t the case, and you suppress a roll of eyes as he does a spin. 

“This jacket is beautiful. I almost want to keep it.” Ellen laughs, walking you both under the lights. 

“We’ll start with some duo pictures, and then take some solo shots after. Once we’re done, we’ll review them and decide whether to do retakes. Got it?” You both nod and stand awkwardly next to one another. 

Michael hums, inspecting every detail of you from head to toe. A small smirk crept on his face as he ran a finger on your waist. “You dress up nice.” 

You scoff, rolling your eyes as you take a step away from him, crossing your eyes. “This dress is ridiculous. It doesn’t look right on me whatsoever.” 

“Maybe it’s you that makes it look ‘wrong’, because the dress is beautiful.” Michael hums, shrugging his shoulder as he fidgets with his gloved hand. 

You nod, looking down at your feet. Michael was right, it was a beautiful dress, but it just didn’t look good on you. You keep quiet, licking your lip as you clear your throat. “I guess you’re right about that one. First thing you’re ever right about.” 

Michael slows his movements, and regret fills his body. He notices the crack in your voice as you speak, and he feels horrible. He thought you’d give him a smart remark back, but instead, you gave him a hurtful look. “I didn’t mea-“

“You said what you said, don’t take it back.” You interrupted him, giving the makeup artist who was touching up your makeup a small smile. You don’t speak after that, scared you’ll give away any more vulnerability. The artist walks away, leaving you and Michael in your space once again. Ellen yells some directions, so Michael grabs your waist. You pretend your skin isn’t heating to a perfect temperature under his touch, a touch you hate yet yearn for. 

“Perfect! Now, Michael, look at her like you’re proud of her. Remember, the goal is to capture success, wealth, and respect.” Ellen voices, and you nod your head. You take your free hand and wrap it around Michael’s shoulder, and look up at Michael. The camera flashes, and you smile at Michael. A smile that Michael looks down on, noticing the fact that it doesn’t reach your eyes as it should. Instead, it carries resentment. Hurt. Pain. His stomach drops, and it takes every fiber in his body to stop him from calling the flashes off. He feels uneasy, and he hates that he does. 

The flashes stop, Ellen announcing a five-minute break. You release a breath you didn’t know you were holding, and quickly walk away from the center, and to the back, where your assistant hands you a cup of apple cider juice. “Thanks.” 

Unbeknownst to you, Michael’s watching you intensely. He notices the quiver in your lip as you talk with your assistant, the shaking of your hand as you take small breaths. It seemed like you were panciking, and despite the regret seeping deep in his heart, he stood where he was. He didn’t move, not to apologize, or to distract himself. Instead, he kept his eyes on you, even as you walked back and took your place beside him. You turn to Michael and give him a sharp look. “Going to comment on how ugly my makeup looks? Or is that for the next session?” 

“I wasn’t going to say anything,” Michael defends, crossing his arms. He wasn’t sure why he couldn’t apologize; he knew he needed to. You just made it so damn hard to. 

Ellen comes up to both of you and smiles. “The pictures look great. Now, I want you,” she turns to you, “to grab onto Michael’s shoulders as he sits. Michael, grab her hand and smile. You both are going to look so perfect.” You give her a small smile and take a step back as a crew member sets a chair, and Michael sits down. You wipe your hands on the back of your dress and stand behind Michael. You take in his scent, filled with a sweet and intoxicating scent, which distracted you from the fact that you were mad at him. 

“Stop smelling me.” Michael hums, and you scoff. You lightly set your hands on his shoulders, putting on a smile as the flashes begin. Michael grips onto your hand, looking up at you and smiling. You look at him for a second, and the look he gives you makes you want to slap him. He stared at you like you were prey, and to him, that’s what you were. The camera clicks continued, and you looked back up, smiling into the camera.

“More eye contact with each other, please! Michael, don’t squeeze her hand, it looks purple through here.” Thank you. Michael lets go slightly, and the pain subsides. 

“Do you genuinely like seeing me in pain?” You say through your teeth, fluttering your lashes as they continue to take pictures. 

“Seeing you beneath me keeps me going, girl. Get it through your skull.” Michael responds, and your knees buckle. You harden your grip on his shoulder, smirking softly as he lets out a rasped breath. 

“Amazing. Now, outfit change. 15 minutes.” Ellen instructs, and you pinch Michael’s shoulder before bending down to his ear. 

“You’ll be kissing my feet one of these days, Michael Jackson. Remember that before you decide to use your ego on me.” 

Michael grunts, watching as you walk away and into your dressing room. He stands, taking his jacket off and placing it over his hard-on before slamming his dressing room door open, letting out a breath. Why did you have that effect on him? 

You undress and put on a teal suit, a color that was meant to radiate tranquility. Instead, it just reminded you of the insecurity laced in your spirit. You hated feeling this way, and most of all, hated that you felt this way because of him. You come out of the dressing room, standing behind the camera as Michael takes his solo shots. You focus on anything but him, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of admiration that everyone else on this set gives him. 

“Great. Your turn.” Ellen points to you, and you walk past him, taking a seat in the beautiful red chair that matches your lipstick. Your suit is meant to represent “fuck the stigma,” but instead, it makes it seem like you’re falling right into the stigma. Michael looks at you, nodding.

You smile into the camera, leaning back as you lick your lips and let the flashes distract you from the fact that Michael is staring at you, more like focusing on every imperfection of you based on the judgment in his eyes. Nonetheless, you finish your part and move to another background, where it comes to posing with Michael. 

You sit next to one another, watching as the crew works on staging the light just right. Michael clears his throat and looks at you. He opens his mouth, and despite the seriousness in your face, he is ready to let him say what he needs to say, but he can’t speak. He’s frozen, unable to speak. 

“You won’t ever be timeless with that damn attitude. You put on a facade, fooling every single folk out there who listens to your music. They don’t know the real you.” 

“Tell me, darling, what’s the real me?” Michael hums. 

“A real dog piece of crap. You’re a bully, an egotistical man ready to ambush anyone willing to take any sort of spotlight away from you. Unlucky for you, that person happens to be me. A younger girl.” 

Michael stares at you, gripping onto the armrest beneath him. He wanted to hurt you, make you cry, anything to shut you up. And so he venomously says, “Exactly. So stay where you’re at. Don’t try to ignite a fire where a fire already burns. You’ll just be a waste.” 

Your breath hitches, and Michael turns, leaving you completely silent. 

The rest of the shoot goes silent between the two of you, playing your parts as you work together to look good for the cameras, quickly pulling away when Ellen yells, “Done!” You change back into your clothes, removing your makeup, and request to be alone. Your assistant complies, leaving the door slightly open as he walks away. You look to the door, waiting for him to leave before biting your lip, watching through the mirror as your eyes begin to tear, and you close them. The tears fall, and you cover your mouth as you sob. This shoot, despite the constant compliments and reassurance that it was perfect, you felt angry and ugly. You hated the clothes against your skin, the fact that you were in a hairstyle you’d never wear willingly, and most of all, paired up with the one you hate the most. You continue to sob, wiping away the rest of your makeup before dropping the wipe onto the vanity and tucking your face into your hands. 

Michael walks to your door, peeking through the space. He hears your sobs. He knows them all too well. He knows the feeling of crying after hearing constant consolation. However, he felt horrible. He felt like garbage. He knew you were in that state because of him. He took it upon his own liberty to make it up to you by speaking highly of you in his portion of the solo interview.

“She’s a very talented young woman. Her music is amazing, and her ideas are so intelligent. They’ve definitely inspired me. My brothers and I carry so much respect for her, despite all the press forcing us to hate each other.” He quoted, clawing at his pants as he practically had to make sure his heart wouldn’t stop beating as he said the words. They weren’t a 100% lie; he just hated that he even had to say something like that. 

He debated knocking on your door, wanting to give you an apology, but instead, gave you one last look before walking off. You, on the other hand, pull your hands away from your face and smirk. You heard footsteps as soon as you placed your head in your hands, and took a small peek from under your eyes as Michael stood there and watched you. Your assistant had warned you that Michael would say some good things about you in the interview. You, on the other hand? You didn’t hold back. 

“Michael, like every other man, hates to see a woman succeed. I mean, you can be timeless without putting others down. Jackson is the king in ensuring that he’s the saint in every situation. I mean, how jealous can you be? You’re allowed to share. I mean, that just shows the privilege he carries. He makes good music, I guess. But as a person? He’s difficult to work with, and I’ve only met him twice.” 

﹏﹏﹏

MORNING AFTER GRAMMY NIGHT

The magazine and interview came out the morning after the Grammys, and Michael fumed. And I mean fumed. His family had never seen him slam doors so hard. He didn’t even greet his animal friends as he walked past them and into the backseat of his car. He was furious. He had spoken so well of you, even willing to lie to his family, and look at how you repaid him? You probably faked crying, he thought. He ignored the look of his family as he walked up and down the stairs, figuring out ways to get you back. Bill looked at him through the mirror, watching the sweat begin to build up above Michael’s lip as he bit it. 

He had milestones to be proud of- that should’ve been his focus. Instead? He ripped apart every single copy of the magazine they had sent him. He kept one, however. He felt mad at the biological aspect of his body as he raked his dark eyes over your body. God, you were beautiful. In the pictures together, you two could’ve fooled anyone living under a rock and could say you two were in love, and they’d believe it. Michael hated the effect you had on his body, and that just made him despise you more than ever. 

You, on the other hand, looked at your Grammys sitting in a perfect line at the top of your dresser. You drank the champagne in your hand, humming along to a Bruce Springsteen song as you looked through the magazine over and over again. Not only did you look better than you thought, but Michael had fallen into your trap. Although his words did hit a tiny spot, you knew he would feel bad and make up for it in the most cowardly and noble way possible. You traced your manicured fingers along his quotes, smiling. Maybe he was lying, maybe he was finally being honest. Either way, none of it mattered. You had eight Grammy awards in front of you, ready to be cleaned and placed in a cabinet. Oh, and an outfit and speech to prepare for the celebratory dinner that’d take place in a couple of nights. 

﹏﹏﹏

CELEBRATORY DINNER 

You approach Michael, and smirk as the cameras follow both of you. You rake your eyes over his body, a detailed jacket similar to the one he wore a few nights ago, reminding you of the very reason you decided to dramatize your look today. “Hello, Mr. Jackson.”

Michael leans in, feigning a formal cheek-kiss as the cameras click, harshly gripping onto your arm. “Save the dramatics, young thing. You already won.” 

“Oh, honey, but we both did.” You pull away, grabbing his hand on you and interlacing it with yours, turning to smile at the camera. They move away to another guest, and you drop it, rolling your eyes. Michael’s stomach flutters at the nickname you give him, but he tucks that feeling away, focusing on the disdain that sits in his heart. 

“Want the truth? I can’t be happy with that night. I don’t think I ever will be. All because of you.” 

You place a hand over your heart, brushing away the loose piece of hair from your face. “Does it bother you that much to share such a milestone with a woman?” 

Michael laughs, shaking his head. “Oh, please, don’t make it into that. You know perfectly fine why I hate sharing anything with you.” 

You shake your head, grabbing a champagne glass off the waiter’s tray and gently sucking the candied cherry, giving it a small pop as you maintain eye contact with Michael’s dark eyes. The look he keeps on you is intense and dangerous, yet promising. “Michael, let go of the theatrics, and enjoy the fact that we’ve made history. If you drop this immature behavior just for one night, so will I, I promise.” 

“Nothing about what I want to do to you is immature. I promise you.” Michael leans in, whispering in your ear as he softly pinches your cheek, spinning you as you both greet a member from the committee. You shut out the words from everyone else, focusing on the intentionality behind his words. Threatening, poisonous, and toxic. And yet, your body loved every single syllable that came out of his mouth, and you were more mad at yourself for feeling that way. 

You both move on, appreciating the distance as a distraction from the fact that you two didn’t know what you were doing anymore. Michael didn’t care to be cordial or respectful. The things he wanted to do to you, the way he wanted to bend you over and pound into you roughly without mercy, the way he wanted to pull on your hair, putting pressure on your neck to the point where you’d beg him to stop, yet pull his hands back onto your neck if he dared to pull away. The looks he gave from across the room should’ve been forbidden. It carried lust, heat, and vulnerability. All of which he was willing to submit to just for one night, if it meant his mind would finally get rid of you. 

The tables had labels with your names on them, and of course, your names were right beside each other. You took a seat next to him, holding onto your dress as you bent over, wiping away any nonexistent crumbs from the seat, as Michael focused on the softness of your breasts. You smirk, finally sitting and turning to him. “Done being a little crybaby?” 

Michael rolls his eyes, giving a small smile to some guests as they walk by him, offering their congratulations. “I’m keeping track of every smart comment you make, by the way.” 

“For what?” 

Now he turns to you. “So you know how many times you’ll be denied finishing by my hand.” 

Your mouth gapes open, and you lose grip of your clutch. It falls onto the floor, and Michael bends down, keeping one hand on the floor and another on your thigh as he presses a kiss near your ankle. He groans softly, sitting back up and placing your clutch on his lap. “You did say I’d be kissing your feet soon, huh? Guess you were right.” 

You’re silent, clearing your throat as you push your chair closer to the table. You’ve gone completely speechless, and you hate yourself for it. Michael hums, smirking beside you as he takes a sip of his drink. Most of the night passes by, and it takes every smart neuron in your brain to stop you from running to the bathroom and pleasuring yourself. It seems you still have some common sense. 

“Lastly, can we give it up for the record-breaking stars in the house?” Someone speaks into the microphone, and you smile and wave as the camera pans to you, then to Michael. Michael bows his head, waving. The cheers in the room break out of the trance you’ve unfortunately fallen into. 

“You two are so young, and already legends to many. How do you do it?” You playfully shrug your shoulders, pointing to Michael as the crowd laughs. You cross your legs, biting your bottom lip as Michael smirks at the camera, wrapping an arm around you. You huff a breath, attempting to scoot away, but instead, Michael grips onto your back harder. 

The crowd takes note of every single detail of you both- from your facial expressions to the unintentional matching outfits you two are wearing. They keep your interviews in mind as you smile at each other, confused by the sudden friendliness. You, on the other hand, want to kill Michael. Where did he get the audacity to think he could touch you like that? Why is his grip hardening, becoming warmer and warmer? Despite these thoughts, you don’t push his hand away. Instead, you keep it there, nodding along to the speaker. 

“And now, a speech from our record-breaking artists!” You and Michael stand, and Michael takes out his hand, and you look down at it. You turn and spot Lionel Richie sticking out his arm, and you give a smirk to Michael as you grab onto Lionel’s. You hear some gasps around you, but you kiss Lionel on the cheek as you walk onto the stage. Michael stands beside you, grabbing onto your waist. He leans into your ear, and you feel yourself shudder. “You embarrassed me, girl. Another deny tonight.”

You gulp and watch as Michael pulls away, waving kisses to the crowd as he steps onto the podium. He begins his speech, and you don’t care to listen to anything he says. That’s a lie; you just can’t focus on anything besides the way he grips onto the glass podium and licks his lips. 

“And of course, I get to stand here a proud and fortunate man alongside this beautiful artist.” Michael turns to you, and you give a small raise of your eyebrows, walking to the podium as you softly push Michael away. 

“Whatever good he said about me just now, I agree.” You speak, and the crowd laughs. Michael nods his head, biting his lip as he gives a glance at Lionel, rolling his eyes as he keeps his gaze on you. 

“I said most of what I meant the other night, in my speeches. But I truly hold so much love and appreciation for my team, family, and friends who supported me on this journey. As a woman, it isn’t easy getting any higher on the ladder in this industry.” You feel your voice crack, and the room focuses on you. 

Michael tenses beside you, not knowing what to do. He didn’t want to steal your spotlight by attempting to comfort you, but he also didn’t want to see the press label him as a “jerk” for not giving you any solace. 

“For so long, since I started being known, I was always compared to the men in the industry who have come before me. Of course, my respect to them for breaking their own barriers and creating their careers. But, as a woman, it isn’t fair for me to sit there and allow any interviewers to disrespect the career I’ve worked so hard to build.” You turn to Michael and give a small nod. A nod that makes Michael’s breath hitch. That nod, a gesture so minuscule yet so heavy with meaning. It makes Michael’s heart beat faster, confused yet relieved. 

“I’m really grateful I’ve won all these awards- they look so good in my house,” you laugh, wiping a small tear away that threatens to fall, “but I’m more proud of myself. Proud that I’ve endured so much, and yet have come here and broken the barrier. A barrier I’m proud to say I’ve broken with the one and only, Michael Jackson.” The crowd literally erupts in screams, standing as you take a step back and laugh. Michael’s eyes slightly widen, shocked at your words. He takes them in, every single syllable entering his body, running like euphoria through his blood. You turn to him, leaning to hug him, pressing a kiss against his cheek. His cock hardens at your touch, twitching as you pull away, smiling as you run your fingers down his arms and into his free hand. 

“I never hated him, by the way. You all just took away my words out of context!” You say, blowing a kiss before pulling Michael away and down the stairs, and back into your seats. 

Music begins playing, and artists take the chance to group and gossip about what just happened. You grip onto the glass, taking a sip of the champagne. Michael subtly runs his hand over his crotch, wanting to find any friction to stop him from finishing in his pants then and there. 

“You must want to see me worship you like you’re the only thing in the world.” 

“That’s been the plan all along, sweetheart, I thought you knew.” 

Michael hums, keeping a hand on your thigh as you smile at guests who walk by, offering their compliments to you both. He leans into your ear, brushing hair out of your way as he keeps his gaze on your face. “I’m going to ruin you tonight in a way where you’ll be begging for mercy.” 

You lick your lips, smiling and pressing a soft and subtle kiss beside Michael’s ear. “What if I like that?” 

“Then I don’t want you complaining when you’re not allowed to play with yourself, baby.” 

A voice interrupts you both, and Michael begins talking with them. You’re impressed at his ability to act like he wasn’t just the reason your core was practically leaking down your legs. You straighten your posture, pretending not to notice that despite Michael’s attention being on his guest, his hand never left your thigh. You attempted to fidget yourself out of his touch, but he didn’t budge. If anything, it pushed him to keep his hand on you. 

The rest of the night goes by in a blur, Michael keeping a grip on you with no shame. You were embarrassed, secretly. You knew the exact judgment you’d receive the same night by the media tabloids, but a part of you didn’t care. 

You were having fun, that’s what you reminded yourself whenever you caught yourself smiling a little too hard. 

﹏﹏﹏

You closed the door with a bit of aggressiveness, double-checking the lock as you walked to Michael, who was sitting on the bed, glove off and beside him. You throw your clutch and jacket across the chair, sitting in the other, crossing your legs as you throw your head back and keep your gaze on Michael. He invited you to his hotel room, and you refused. 

You gave him a small pat on his back, walking to your car and opening the door, closing it a minute later, and walking back, rolling your eyes as Michael stood by his car door, nodding to it as you walked into the back and sat down, ensuring you had enough space from Michael where the cameras wouldn’t capture anthing suspicious, simply cordial respect between two superstars. 

You changed your mind once you got to the hotel, giving an excuse that you were “tired,” and Michael hummed, leaving you in the lobby as he walked to his room. You stood there, feeling stupid and confused. You made up your mind an hour later, walking to his room and doing the walk of shame. You knocked softly on his door, sighing as he gave a warm “welcome.” 

Michael’s eyes are on you, raking his eyes from your exposed legs to your unblinking eyes. “You had me waiting like a fool.” 

“I wasn’t sure if coming up here was a good idea.” 

“What makes you say that?” Michael jokes, and you let out a laugh. 

Michael stands and takes off his coat. He kicks his shoes off and nods to your heels. You nod your head, carefully taking them off and placing them below the table next to you. 

Michael walks to you, crouching down, bringing his lips to your ear. “Nothing about what I want to do with you is a good idea, baby. Catch up.” 

You sigh, closing the gap between the two of you. The kiss was fierce, harsh, unloving. It wasn’t soft or filled with relief- it was filled with coldness and shame. 

You let out a moan as Michael brings his hand down to your throat, putting pressure on it as you slip your tongue into his mouth. Your nipples harden against your dress, and you bring your hand down to your breast, toying with it as you whimper. Michael notices this, and he immediately tuts, shaking his head as he pulls your hand away. “No touching unless I say so.” 

You shake your head, pushing his hand away as you fight to touch yourself, but Michael just watches, using all his force to keep your hand away. You softly groan, his grip hurting. You eventually give in, allowing Michael to take control as he puts pressure back on your neck. “Good girl, baby. I want you all to be compliant after being so mean to me these past few years.” 

You close your eyes, the pressure on your neck darkening your vision. Michael hums, letting go as you let out a whine. Michael grabs onto your shoulders, helping you up as he unzips your dress. You stand naked in front of him, and you feel the weight of his words in the past haunt your mind. You instinctively cover your body, and Michael grabs your arms, pulling them away and keeping them next to your legs. “Don’t.” 

You stay silent, unsure of what to say. 

“You’ve always been the most beautiful woman to me. Always.” 

“You have a funny way of showing it.” You spit back, anger lacing into your tone. Michael smirks, and you push him, gripping onto his shirt as you give him a frenzied kiss. Michael groans, allowing your taste to consume him whole. You taste so perfect against him. Your tongues play with his so cohesively, like the rhythm you two created was pre-planned. Maybe in a way, it was. All those years of pent-up tension were finally being expressed, and it felt so good. It wasn’t right, of course, but nobody cared about the ethical dilemmas around here. What was important was how the body chemistry worked out, and Michael appreciated a good beat against his own melodies. 

You use all your force Michael’s shirt open, not caring about his whines about how expensive it was. You just cared about running your hands down his chest, his skin so soft against your palms. How can someone with so much disdain in his heart be so physically delicate? 

Michael turns you around, laying you on your stomach against the softness of the bed. Michael presses against your shoulder and down to the waistband of your panties, where he brings them down. He stuffs them in his pocket, smirking as he lifts your bottom. He licks his fingers, moistening them as he runs them down your neck and to your breasts, giving them a hard pinch before bringing them over your exposed pussy. He begins stretching your pussy with one finger, teasing at your whines. “Where’s all that back-talk now, hm?” 

You bite Michael’s free hand, scared to make any more noise as he keeps his finger inside your wet hole. He doesn’t move, and your eyes roll back. “Please.” 

“That’s more like it.” Michael thrusts his finger in and out, wetness coating his finger. He pushes another in, admiring how much you could take without already cumming. He pushes your limit, inserting another, and begins thrusting again. You cry out, grinding onto his hand, teeth clenching against each other as your clit receives stimulation from  Michael’s palm. 

“Look at how wet you get from me. Have you been like this the entire time?” Michael whispers in your ear. You know he’s referring to the entirety of your rivalry, and you suppress your remarks. You’re too busy focusing on the stimulation against your core, and how full Michael’s fingers are inside you. 

“Oh, Michael.” You loudly whine, and Michael groans, rubbing his clothed cock against the back of your thighs. He begins dry humping you, refraining from doing anything more as your ass thrusts back against his stomach. 

“Everything about your body makes me a submissive man. I hate feeling this way. I hate you for making me feel this way. And yet, I’ve never wanted to stay so close to a person like right now.” Michael breathes out, and his words bring more pleasure to you than his actions. You feel your legs begin to shake, and your vision becomes cloudy. 

“I’m about to cum, Michael.” You regret it the moment the words leave you, because as soon as your wet walls began to tighten Michael’s fingers, he slides them out, juices flowing down your thighs. You let out a loud grunt, using all your energy to push away from him and turning around, legs still shaking as you sit up. 

Michael smirks at you as your face heats up in embarrassment and anger, mostly embarrassment. “You’re a jerk.” 

“I warned you, baby. Next time, remember to be nice if you want to cum.” You roll your eyes, and Michael readjusts himself on the bed, crawling to you. He pulls your hair, forcing your mouth open as he slides his tongue into yours, battling for dominance. He brings his hand to your nipple, immediately taking control as you let out a desperate sigh. 

He starts pressing wet kisses down your face and into your neck, sucking gently against the softness of your throat, making sure he leaves bruises on you. He brings his tongue down to your breasts, spilling them out of your bra and stuffing his face in between them, humming. “These will be the death of me.” 

You let out a breathy gasp, lying back onto the pillow as Michael runs his tongue over your nipples, sucking gently on each breast. You bring your hand down his shoulder, squeezing the muscle you began grinding yourself against him. He lays a hand on your stomach, halting your movements. “Let me eat in peace first, please.” 

You whine but comply, holding onto his face as he continues to suck on your breasts, the pleasure becoming a familiar feeling your body knows it could get used to. His tongue builds up a pattern that makes your muscles tighten, feeling your stomach build up with a yearning to release. Michael brings his hand down to your stomach, humming before he pops his mouth off your breast. You whine, shaking your head, pleading incoherent words. 

“Poor baby can’t even speak. How much more submissive can you get for me?” Michael smirks, pinching your nipples before standing up, sliding his shirt off his arms and onto the floor. 

You keep your hazy gaze on him as he runs his hand down his chest and to the waistband of his pants, zipping the zipper down and pulling them down altogether. His cock springs out, and you have to bite your lip to suppress a humiliating moan from escaping your fevered body. He begins pumping it, and you get on your knees, crawling to him once he directs you to him.

“Suck it for me, fox.” Michael rasps, and you wrap your tongue around the tip, sucking gently before shoving as much as you can fit in your mouth, bobbing your head up and down. Saliva trickles down your mouth and onto the base of his cock messily, but neither of you cares. 

Michael brings his hands to the back of your head, pulling gently on your hair into a rhythmic pattern. He hums, and every vibration runs through your body, electrifying every single cell in your body. You bring your hands down to your opening, fingering yourself before Michael harshly grips onto your hair, shaking his head. 

“You don’t even deserve to feel pleasure from yourself.” Michael teases, and you let out a desperate moan into his cock, feeling a harsher grip on your face as he bobs you up and down. You feel his cock pulsate in your mouth, and you open your eyes, finding Michael’s eyes rolled back as he bites his lip. You pinch his thigh, and he lets out a rasped whimer. A whimper so beautiful you take it in, memorizing every harmonic note.  Michael smirks, thrusting himself into your mouth, appreciating every noise you let out. 

Michael thrusts himself into your warm mouth before spilling inside your mouth, keeping your mouth on his cock until it stops twitching.

“Be a good thing for me and swallow it, okay?” Michael grips onto your jaw, and you let out a gasp as you swallow, humming as Michael grips onto your arms, bringing you onto his lap. 

Your breathing falls into a calm rhythm, matching Michael’s. You use the quiet to look into Michael’s eyes, looking for any trace of emotion. Your heart isn’t sure what’s looking for, but you see satisfaction, pleasure, and somberness. You bring your fingers across his face, an action so soft, yet Michael’s skin prickles, heart tingeing at your touch. He’s scared, unsure of why he feels so terrified to continue touching your skin. It felt so soft under his touch, perfect even. And Michael didn’t label perfection to just everything. 

“You’re ruining me, and I hate you for it,” Michael murmurs, lining up cock to your entrance. He teases your slit, closing his eyes at your moans. 

“But I’ve never felt more at home than I do at this moment.” 

His cock thrusts into you, the pain hitting you instantly. He stays still, sighing as your head falls onto his chest. You grind onto him, wanting the pleasure to hit you all at once. Michael takes the hint and brings his hands to your hips, gripping them as he begins thrusting into you. It’s a pound so heavy, filling yet your soul feels empty. You shake your head, biting onto Michael’s chest as his ruts inside you make sin look so innocent. 

“Please. I need more.” You whine, and Michael hums, quickening his pace. You’re stuffed completely, cock disappearing into your body. Michael moans at the pleasure, every massage working his thighs. The pleasure becomes overbearing, and his muscles begin to spasm. You smile softly, turning the languid movements into frenzied bucks, taking control. You grip onto Michael’s shoulders for support and begin hopping on him, the stimulation overpowering you. Your moans were pornographic, a shameful reaction you’d know you’d regret the next morning, but you didn’t care. You didn’t care about the outside world right now, or the sad look in Michael’s eyes; you cared about how good Michael’s cock filled you, every vulnerable thrust swallowing you whole. 

“Yes, ride it just like that, my girl. Ride my cock just like that.” Michael hums, and you whine. Every word assuring, every moan filling your ears like a delicious melody you never want to get rid of. 

“You’re mine.” You shamefully mutter, and it brings Michael to tears. Your words hit him like a brick, not stopping him for his pleasure, however, and using that to bring him to his finish. His thrusts become messy, and you bring his fingers to your clit, demanding more pleasure. He gives in, and you feel the heat pooling in your back, crawling to your neck, and down your stomach, where your legs begin to shake. Michael nips at your lip, and he licks your tongue, every breathy moan filling him so perfectly. 

Your gut tightens, and shockwaves run through your body as you come, and Michael follows, hips stuttering as he lets out a whiny groan, eyes rolling back. He bites your lip, drawing blood and licking it, every tremor making his skin heat up. You fall into his chest, head resting onto him as your knees buckle, Michael’s release running down your thighs. The room is silent, your breath being the only muse as proof of what just happened, setting into reality. You’re still scared to move. Michael hesitantly brings his hands to your face and pulls you to his face. 

Your eyes are closed, scared to find anything you don’t want to see in his eyes. However, Michael holds onto your face, whispering, “Open them, please.” 

You shake your head at first and feel regret. You open them eventually, and tears spring up to your eyes. “I’m lost.” 

Michael nods and bites his bottom lip. “I know.” Your body shakes, silent sobs erupting out of you as you feel every piece of your heart wash away in a lost wind. Michael sits still, allowing your cries to relieve. He doesn’t want to stop you, because he knows you feel that way for a reason, but he feels a sharp pain in his chest. 

“We need to talk about this, baby.” Michael pleads, and you wipe your eyes. 

“Michael, what is there to say? You hate me. I hate you. That’s it. That’s.. all.” You get off his lap, and Michael’s skin cools without your warmth. You feel the chills crawl down your body, but you shake them off, choosing distance over comfort. 

Michael’s silent, because you’re right. He kept replaying that in his head over and over as every kiss and thrust felt familiar against his body. That fueled him to go faster, and now, he regrets it. 

“You don’t hate me, and you know that. That’s why you’re searching for that distance right now, isn’t it?” 

You shake your head, tears falling down your face. “I will not talk about this with you, I won’t.” You say, and grip onto your dress, heading towards the bathroom. Michael steps in front of you, stopping you from moving any further. 

“You do damage to me, that I can admit. But I love it. After tonight, there is nothing better for me out there.” 

“This is abuse, Michael. We do nothing but damage each other. That isn’t healthy; this will not work past tonight.” 

“Then I may just die if you walk into that door.” 

Your heart drops, but you choose yourself. You walk past Michael and go into the bathroom. You turn on the faucet, sobbing as you put on your dress and wash your face. You lay your head against the cold skin, water still running as you pay it no mind. You hear the door open, and your sobs grow louder. After some time, you stand and walk out of the bathroom. The room is empty, no trace of Michael. No trace of anything, besides your heels. You put them on and walk out the door. You close it, leaning against it before you pull out your clutch, and take out a cigarette. 

You smoke it as you walk down the halls and downstairs, finding your driver waiting for you at the front. You get inside the car and direct him to your hotel. 

You walk into your room, heart empty and cold, as you sit on your bed. You knew you made the right decision, so why does your heart sit in a pile of black liquid, lost and unable to find satisfactory beating? 

﹏﹏﹏

Bill groans, shaking his head as he sits beside Michael. “This is a bad idea, son.” 

“Everything about her is a bad idea. Hell, she is a bad idea. But I think I want this.” 

“You think, or you know?”

Michael doesn’t respond, looking out the window as the car pulls into the side of your hotel. He strolls in, not caring about the cameras and microphones pushed into his face as he rides the elevator and walks to your door. He stands outside it, ear pressed up against the door before he knocks. 

“Come in.” He hears, and he assumes you must be waiting for someone. Yet, he walks in, and he finds you reading a newspaper while sipping coffee.

You point to the chair across from you and nod. Michael sits down, silent. He opens his name, breathing out your name before clearing your throat. 

“Sign.” You say, handing him a paper.

“NONDISCLOSURE AGREEMENT,” in big, bold letters. Michael reads over the first and last paragraphs, letting out a laugh. 

“You knew I’d come to chase you, didn’t you?” 

You hum. “Don’t you always?” 

Michael licks his lips, taking the pen from you and signing his name. 

“So…” Michael begins, and you softly smile. 

“I couldn’t sleep last night. Not because I was tired or sore, but because I sat there, my heart feeling lost. Dumbfounded. And I hate feeling that way. I hate you for making me feel like this. But, I also can’t be apart from you without feeling whole. Seeing you walk into that door made me the happiest I’ve been since you last touched me.” 

Michael’s silent, unsure of what to say. What exactly were you trying to say?

You read his mind, because you bite your lip, set down your cup, and let out a shaky breath. “What I’m trying to say is that I still hate you. Maybe I always will. But every touch you linger on me is a molecule that washes in attraction and love, and it scares the shit out of me. But I need more, which means I-“

“You need me.” Michael finishes, and you hesitantly nod. Michael softly smiles, and his soft features build up on his face, making you squirm, but you mirror his smile. 

“You’re poison, you know that, girl?” Michael laughs and stands, pulling you into a hug. He leans his forehead against yours and closes his eyes. 

“And yet we’re still here.” You whisper. 

Michael nods, eyes still closed. His fingers trace your face, familiarizing himself with the face he never wants to stop seeing, kissing, loving. His heart clenches a bit, anxiety and attraction creeping into his system. However, as he holds onto you, he lets out a breath. He’s right where he wants to be, and he can’t complain. You smile against him, eyes admiring his details. You’re in awe of him, of you, but most of all, the will to still yearn for something that isn’t guaranteed to ever work. 

.✦ ݁˖ DANGEROUS. P2 .✦ ݁˖

part 1

𑣲 pairing: dangerous era!michael x secret girlfriend!reader

𑣲 synopsis: after agreeing to join michael on his dangerous world tour, you’re forced to face the quiet unraveling of the bubble you built together… and the mutual toxicity that rises to take its place.

𑣲 cw: 18+ smut, MDNI!, toxic!michael, tbh… toxic!reader, dom!michael, sub!reader, angst!, (self)degradation, praise!kink, spanking, controlling behaviors, unhealthy relationship dynamics (oops), it’s… filthy again.

𑣲 wc: 14.6k (i’m crazy)

𑣲 authors note: thank you guys so much for the love on part 1!! i hope i did a good job at bringing their story to a close <3 enjoy!!!

𑣲 tags: @misscowboyhat @chrollosblackgf66 @bluugangsta @vyvyrulesboisdrool @aloeveraaa333 @smoothcriminalgf @scccm0182 @nodisdino @glitterqueen123 @doefern @cupidslyrics @silentonthedancefloor @savagenctzen @mrsjacksonnnnnn @gleefullywingedvision @michaelsfayvourite @brownsugarbbys-blog @parness @wildpandorasky @cherubae111 @lullora @pvtypyt @nylauhh @jasppppeeee @capevans3000 @sunsetdrvr @1-800-angel-ok @narratedillusions @mikaylajacksonnn @galacticpurpl3 @oidloid @veraberaxx @studio03 @mjsfavouritefish @jazzycurls @nuvv2829 @muchluv4mj @heubstr @urdeftones-grrrl @cupidslyrics @loveposiie @nylauhh

History!michael x black reader. lovely request .ᐟ

synopsis: After watching michaels MV "earth song" you couldn't help but feel a sense of neediness for your husband, a different type of need though....you wanted to please HIM for all the hard work he's putting out.

warnings: whiny!michael, whimpering, edging, slight cursing, use of pet names (baby, mama, darling" mdni.

you were currently straddling michael's hips with your thighs spread wide, heels braced against the wall on either side of him, pinning him exactly where you want. The position forces his back flat, arms stretched uselessly above his head, every inch of him exposed to you. Your mouth crashes down on his again, tongue sliding deep, sucking on his lower lip until he whimpers into the kiss.

You grind down slow and deliberate, the heat of your bare pussy dragging over the swollen head of his dick without letting him slip inside. His hips jerk up on instinct, chasing friction, but you lift just enough to deny him. A wet string of your slick stretches between you when you rise, then you sink back down, smearing it across his tip.

He breaks the kiss with a shaky gasp. "Please, baby—fuck—just let me put it in?" His voice cracks, raw and desperate. You answer by biting his bottom lip, then licking the sting away before diving back in, tongues tangling filthy and wet.

You slide down his body, lips trailing over his throat, chest, stomach, until you're kneeling between his spread thighs. His dick twitches against his belly, flushed dark and leaking steadily. You wrap your fingers around the base, squeeze once, then lean in and drag the flat of your tongue from his balls all the way to the tip. He moans loud, hips bucking, but you pin them down with both hands.

"Touch me…please, I need to feel your touch, mama," he begs, voice cracking again. His wrists strain against the restraints you left on the headboard, fingers flexing uselessly. "I can't—fuck—I need your hands on me."

You hum around the head of his cock, letting the vibration travel through him. "Patience, baby." You said, then taking him deeper, lips stretching wide. You suck hard on the upstroke, tongue swirling under the ridge, tasting every drop of precum. When his thighs start to shake, you pull off with a wet pop, blowing cool air over the spit-slick tip. He whines, high and broken. "Please—don't stop darlin''m'so close—"

You stroke him once, twice, then let go completely. His dick jerks in the air, searching for friction that isn't there. You crawl back up his body, pressing your tits to his chest, letting him feel the full weight of you. Skin to skin. He shudders under you, chasing every point of contact like he's starving. "One more kiss," he pleads again, voice hoarse. You give it to him slow, deep, filthy while your hand wraps around his dick once more, stroking just enough to keep him right on the edge. Every time his breathing hitches, you stop, watching his face twist with frustration and need.

"Please, baby," he whispers against your mouth, tears pricking the corners of his eyes. "I need to cum. I need your touch. I'll do anything. Just lemme feel you." You smile against his lips, grinding your soaked pussy along his dick one more time, and start the whole teasing cycle over again. "I told you to be patient, right mikey?" You cooed.

“m’so proud of you baby, y’know that right?” You asked, you continued grinding your hips along his dick watching his face the entire time. When he didn’t respond back quick enough you stopped. Causing a slight whine to fall out his lips. “I asked a question Michael, answer me.”

“y-yes i know you’re proud of me….oh fuck-“ he breathed out, voice hoarse. “Please mama, i wanna feel you—lemme feel you baby.” He whined, his hands gripping the restraints. He looked as if he was crying. No wait, he was crying. His rosy cheeks puffy and red, his eyes wide watching you.

You stay right where you are, thighs clamped around his ribs, keeping every inch of him pinned and exposed. Your slick folds slide along his cock again, slow and deliberate, coating him from root to crown until he’s dripping with your wetness. Michael’s head thrashes against the pillow, wrists straining in the leather cuffs until the headboard creaks.

"Mama—fuck—please, I can’t—" His voice cracks. You answer by rolling your hips in a tight figure-eight, dragging your clit over the swollen head of his dick without ever letting him slip inside. Every time he tries to thrust up you lift just enough to deny him, leaving him chasing nothing but air.

“you looked so good in that music video baby,” you whispered in his ear. Running your fingers through his curls you looked at his face that looked completely wrecked. You smiled expecting an answer from him or at least a thank you but all that was heard were whimpers and moans.

You sink down in one slow, deliberate motion, letting the thick head of his dick push past your entrance and stretch you open. His eyes go wide, glassy with unshed tears, his lips parting on a broken moan as you take him inch by inch until your ass settles flush against his hips. "There it is," you murmur, voice low and steady. "Feel that baby?”

His wrists jerk against the cuffs, leather creaking. A tear slips from the corner of his eye and rolls down his temple. "Thank you," he whispers, voice cracking. "Thank you, mama—fuck—thank you for letting me inside—"

You roll your hips in a slow circle, grinding your clit against his pelvis while his cock throbs deep inside you. Another whimper slips out of him, high and desperate. "So warm—so tight—god, thank you—" You lift up until just the head remains inside, then drop back down hard enough to make him gasp. His thighs shake beneath you. "Please—please don't stop—thank you for giving me what I want mommy.”

You set a steady rhythm, bouncing on his cock while he sobs out broken thank-yous between every thrust. His eyes stay shiny, tears clinging to his lashes as he watches you take him, completely at your mercy.

You pick up the pace, slamming your hips down onto his cock faster and harder, the wet slap of skin echoing through the room. Michael's moans grow louder, more frantic, his body straining against the restraints as you ride him with purpose.

"Fuck—fuck—mama—" he gasps, voice hoarse from all the begging.

You lean forward, reaching up to unfasten the cuffs with quick fingers. The moment his wrists are free, his hands fly to your body like he's starving for it. They grab your hips first, fingers digging in hard enough to bruise, then slide up to squeeze your tits, thumbs brushing over your nipples. He can't stop touching you palms sliding over your ass, gripping the flesh, spreading you wider as you bounce on his cock. His hands roam everywhere, frantic and desperate, like he needs to feel every inch of you at once.

His hips start thrusting up to meet yours, driving his cock deeper with every bounce. The rhythm turns messy, both of you moving without control now. Your moans mix with his—raw, loud, unrestrained.

"Yes—yes—fuck, yes—" he chants, hands sliding back to your ass, helping lift and drop you onto him. Your clit grinds against his pelvis with every thrust, the pressure building fast and sharp.

"I'm close—I'm so close—" he whimpers, eyes glassy again, tears streaking down his cheeks as his dick throbs inside you. His hands squeeze your tits harder, then slide down to grip your hips, pulling you down onto him with every thrust.

You feel it building, that tight coil in your core about to snap. His dick hits deep with every frantic thrust, and the wet sounds of your pussy taking him fill the room. Both of you are loud now moaning, gasping, crying out together.

"Cum with me—" you pant, riding him harder. "Fill me up—"

His whole body goes rigid beneath you. His hips slam up one final time as he cums hard, dick pulsing deep inside you, hot spurts flooding your pussy. The feeling pushes you over the edge too you clench around him, thighs shaking as your orgasm crashes through you. Your moans turn into broken cries, hips grinding down as you milk every drop from him.

Both of you collapse into the aftershocks, bodies trembling, skin slick with sweat. His hands stay on you, softer now, stroking your hips and ass as he catches his breath, still buried inside you.

You catch your breath falling on top of him, you slowly look up to meet his eyes that were filled with love and adoration. You smiled and kissed his cheek. “You looked lovely in that video baby….i couldn’t help it.” You said.

“thank you beautiful, I’m glad you liked it.” He smiled wiping his tears away.

Summary - Afraid you’ll give Michael your illness, you suggest he sleeps in another room for the night. That proves to be a far more difficult task.

Warnings - none this is just soft fluff whilst I’m fighting for my life with this cold 🫩

It started off as small sniffles as the day had passed by. But by late afternoon, it became difficult to ignore the inevitable defeat of getting ill. You knew it would happen what with your insane decision to play in the rain in nothing but Michael’s oversized shirt. You lay down to take a nap, praying and wishing that after resting for a while, maybe you’d be able to get rid of it prematurely. You were silly to think so.

You had woken up to new symptoms, a fever, an aching body, and a hoarse throat that made breathing feel like a chore. Aside from all of this, you also found a terrified Michael Jackson pacing around the bed, watching you with a face of pure concern.

The minute he saw your eyes meekly open, he was on his knees holding onto your hand. “Baby… what’s wrong? What’s happening? You’re hot to the touch! Why are you so hot? Do you feel ill? What else are you feeling? Does your head hurt? Your stomach?” The bombardment of questions made your heart swell from how worried he was over a simple cold but it made you laugh at how ridiculous he was being. Reaching a hand to his face, “I’m fine honey it’s just a cold I’ll get over it”

He holds your now hot hand to his face, searching deep in your eyes to see if you’re telling the truth or if you’re playing the illness off as something smaller than it is. “ ‘m gonna take care of you mama, don’t you worry. Is there anything I can get for you?” Though your body feels limp, you wished so badly in that moment you could pull him into your warm embrace. But you knew you couldn’t so instead, you offer him a look of love as if he caught the moon for you personally.

“Mmmm maybe you could get me a green tea? With lots of honey? Can you get that for me mikey?” You’re already having to look up at him as he scrambles to his feet, ready to meet your every need. “Yes ma’am” he says with much determination and he scurries off, his only focus being to please you and to help you.

By the time he was back, the evening was fast approaching and Michael was preparing himself for sleep. Without a second thought, he walks to his side of the bed and attempts to get cuddled up with you. Instead, he was met with a quick rejection from you. “Baby I really don’t think it’s smart for you to be in the same bed as me tonight. You’re going to get ill and you cannot get ill, your manager will kill me” you watch as an understanding look of defeat displays on his face, he knew you were right.

As if he was being forced to live countries away from you, he walks out of the shared room to a guest room with his pillow in his hand and his head hung low. You almost felt bad sending him out but you knew one night away from one another was better than being responsible for getting Michael Jackson the busiest most needed man in the world ill. You weren’t sure he understood that.

It took some time getting used to his absence, you searched for a part of his side of the bed that had his musky scent on it and slept with it close. Soon enough, you were fast asleep.

Every second that he was away from you felt like a minute to Michael, he couldn’t stand being away from you. Laying on his back, staring at the ceiling, he yearned to hear your soft breathing fanning his face as it usually did. Throughout his life, Michael felt lonely, he felt that no one would truly understand him or want to understand him. That was, until he met you. You seemed to understand parts of him that he struggled to himself. He felt seen. Since then, he developed an attachment to you, he really couldn’t sleep without knowing you’re there, tucked up under the same blanket as him.

It took him some time of sad silence filled with his desperate need to be around you until he thought of his genius plan. Sitting up in the dark room, he dials your number and sits patiently listening to the soft sound of ringing that elicited from the telephone on the side table.

On your end of the house, you were woken up by the sudden ringing. You jump out of your sleep and calm down when you realise it’s the phone that was creating such a panic. Slowly picking it up, you hold the phone to your ear waiting for whoever has decided to disturb your sleep to explain why they have done so.

“Baby?” The soft voice of Michael’s comes out from the receiver and you smile whilst in your sleepy state. “Hi honey is everything okay?” You question, knowing that everything was fine it was just Michael being adorably clingy. “I missed you…” he sighs out as if he was experiencing the most difficult time of his life. You let out a laugh, unable to control yourself. “Hey! Don’t laugh, I really can’t sleep without you, girl. You’ve conditioned me! I need to hear you whilst I’m sleeping” he speaks in a bashful manner, embarrassed that it had to come to this.

“Sweet baby… I know it’s hard you’ve got me hugging and smelling your pillow to fall asleep” he feels content hearing you say this, finding out it isn’t just him who is going crazy without the other. “Can we just sleep together like this? I’m serious I really can’t sleep without hearing your breathing”. You can tell in his voice that he is desperate, he means every word.

Your heart warms listening to him be so vulnerable with you. “I don’t know how I got to have you all to myself Michael but I’m gonna cherish you forever and ever, you’re so perfect” you speak out without really thinking. Your eyes slowly close, feeling the comfort of his breathing and giggles smother you like a tight hug. “I love you even more sweet girl, I want you to get better soon so I can have you in my arms and never let go, does that sound good to you?” He asks and when he receives a tired hum in return, he knows you’re falling back into your slumber, the soft snores from your end comforting him more than ever.