choreo's old, jackie's old

𝟎𝟐/𝟏𝟑/𝟖𝟗: 𝑇𝘩𝑒 𝐾𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑄𝑢𝑒𝑒𝑛 𝑜𝑓 𝑃𝑜𝑝 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑣𝑖𝑒𝑤𝑒𝑑 𝑡𝑜𝑔𝑒𝑡𝘩𝑒𝑟 𝑏𝑦 𝐵𝑎𝑟𝑏𝑎𝑟𝑎 𝑊𝑎𝑙𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑠, 𝑜𝑛 𝑎𝑛 𝐴𝐵𝐶 𝑝𝑟𝑖𝑚𝑒𝑡𝑖𝑚𝑒 𝑠𝑝𝑒𝑐𝑖𝑎𝑙.

BW: So, we're getting toward the end of our time together today, but I don't think I could've interviewed you both without bringing up a certain picture that's taken the media by storm in the last week.

MJ: Oh God... [shy laughter, holding wife's hand tight]

BW: I have to ask!

♥︎: Do you?

BW: Look, I think we're all just very stunned that your husband went out on stage like that. And he could've kept the shirt completely on to cover up the marks, but he chose to rip it open.

MJ: I didn't—no, I'd forgotten all about um... what was on my back. [grinning bashfully]

♥︎: Did you really? [smirks & nudges him, to which MJ nudges back] No, I'm kidding!

BW: Seems like you both had a great night prior to the, uh… display. Would be rather unforgettable instead, surely?

MJ: No, 'm serious. I get so lost in my performances that 'm not thinkin' about anythin’ else. I'm a gentleman—I don't intend to do anything dirty.

♥︎: Ha! [a quick, loud laugh] Who the hell do you think you're kiddin', sir?

MJ: No, baby, you know 'm a gentleman.

BW: Well, from the look of your back in that picture, 'gentle' isn't the word that comes to mind...

♥︎: Oh my— [trying not to laugh with MJ]

BW: You'd still describe yourself as a gentleman?

MJ: I think there's a time an' a place for everything. I'm gentle in most ways. I just never meant to bring the, uh... other stuff to the view of the public. But I also don't think it's the worst thing ever though, right? Think this reaction is a little dramatic...

BW: So, do you both think that sort of thing is okay? You're laughing it off like it's normal to be displaying the extent of your sex life in front of the eyes of millions?

♥︎: [rolls eyes w/ a sigh]

MJ: Uh, well, like I said I didn't inte—

♥︎: Okay, here's the deal. We're husband and wife. Married for eight years too, by the way. This isn't the 1950s—everyone knows what married couples do at home, and as long as we're not doin' that on stage, what's the issue? I mean, Barbara, you seem to love talking about it so much—you're obviously entertained.

BW: But you don't think that what goes on in the bedroom should stay in the bedroom? Man and wife do have sex, yes, but should the public be given access to such intimacy?

♥︎: I wouldn't really call it getting access. Unless anybody has our tapes from the bedroom, they have zero access. And that's why I don't think this is an issue. No matter how 'media trained' I might be, I'm not going to conform to what you guys want me to say on topics like these. I'm sure you'll ask the same questions to Madonna, and Prince, and all the other artists who are extremely sexual onstage, right? Way more explicit than anything my husband and I have done.

BW: You make a good point, however I think it's a little different when there are undertones of the artist's real sexual acts. To my knowledge, Prince hasn't yet gone onstage with streaks of scratch marks down his back for all to see. And you've seen the pictures, they were very harsh scratch marks. It was immediately evident what they were—especially when you then came onstage for the next song and ran your hands over them. We haven't forgotten about that part, and I'm sure someone back there has the video for us to play. What was the point of that? Were you trying to mark your territory? Prove how good the sex is to somebody in particular, or to the world in general?

♥︎: [laughter] ‘Mark my territory?’ No, I was definitely not doing that. I'm very secure in my marriage, I can assure you. I don't need to prove to everybody how incredibly my husband makes love to me—

MJ: No, honey, don't say th—

♥︎: [shoos him with a hand] Oh, whatever, Michael, who cares? [laughs under her breath] As I was saying, we're way too secure to have to rely on showing the public 'proof' that we're sexually active—or whatever it is that you're getting at here. I obviously can't speak for Michael and confirm that he truly did forget about the marks, but I don't appreciate the suggestion that he or I would ever wish to prove the reality of our marriage to the world. We really couldn't care less about what the world thinks. As you've shown us throughout this entire interview, and as we've experienced in every other interview we've ever done, everything is always misconstrued, either deliberately or just because you want to be ignorant.

BW: I do understand that. But we have to ask these questions so that the misconstrued narratives can be corrected, don't we? And with that, we also don't have to agree with everything you state. I personally believe, along with many others, that a married couple bringing the privacy of their bedroom onto the stage is a very uncouth thing to do, and that in doing so, whether unconsciously or not—maybe it was just unconsciously—you have both garnered the controversy that's often necessary to keep your names in the headlines.

MJ: [scoffs]

♥︎: You think we need to try to keep our names in the headlines? Don't be silly, Ms. Walters.

BW: Listen, I know the two of you are always in the media no matter what, but it's not hard for us to believe that you would intentionally do something to further that attention, right?

MJ: Listen, Barbara, we can't leave our house without being mobbed by fans and paparazzi. We could try to disappear entirely from the public eye for months, or even years, and still they would attack us from all ends.

♥︎: [rubbing her thumb over his knuckles] Honey, there's no point. You know they always decide on their narrative and then they run with it, no matter what we say.

BW: Is that how you both feel? That as journalists we'll never truly understand?

♥︎: [speaking solemnly] Are you seriously asking us that question? None of you could ever understand even slightly. I would hope that at least some of our fans might try to, but me and my husband live such an insanely complex life that really, all you can do is continue to only attempt to examine it through your biased lens, poking holes in the tiniest of things. We rarely do interviews for that reason.

BW: I do understand that.

MJ: Y' sure?

BW: Yes, but if there were no journalists and paparazzi to help promote you guys—and the same goes for all the other celebrities out there—you wouldn't be half as celebrated and as widely known as you are now.

♥︎: Well, we can agree to disagree. Now, would you excuse me and my extremely explicit husband while we go off and fornicate in the corner? He needs some inspiration for his next song.

MJ: [squinting shyly & laughing, averting eyes]

BW: Oh, very funny.

♥︎: And maybe, if you’re lucky, you’ll hear my sex noises in the background of the next single!

MJ: [eyes widen] Uh, I think we’re done. Thank you for having us today, Ms. Walters.

BW: It was a pleasure…

TWO WEEKS AGO ; 𝓲𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒍𝒚 𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒔 𝐨𝐟 𝓳𝒂𝒏𝒖𝒂𝒓𝒚 𝟐𝟕, 𝟏𝟗𝟖𝟗...

"Oh, fuck yes, baby!"

"Honey, don't curse... 's okay, y' close again, huh?"

Michael cooed in your ear as he rocked into you with harsh abandon, slamming his hips against yours with each thrust. His thumb rubbed tight circles over your clit as he had you practically folded in half, your legs spread wide in a V-shape, and pushed up between where his body was a protective cage above you. They'd been up on his shoulders a moment ago, and you were so fucked out that you hadn't even registered the position he'd guided you into, only able to focus on the euphoric pleasure hitting your sweet spot every other second.

"Mikey, y'hittin' it so good, ohhh—right there, baby, keep goin'—"

The two of you had been at it for several hours, impossible in your haze to pinpoint an exact number. You'd lost count of how many orgasms you'd had, and you were honestly beginning to wonder if your body had any left in you. Biologically, how many orgasms could a woman actually produce in one night? You surely were breaking some sort of record here. Almost eleven years together, and while in those years you'd had many a night filled with sex, you were certain it had never been to this extent.

Tonight had been the night prior to Michael's final performance of the Bad tour. You'd been touring throughout Europe yourself since Christmas, so before now you hadn't indulged in a night together in an entire month. The tour was concluding in Los Angeles, and therefore that meant that Michael had been back home in your shared mansion for the last eleven days during the residency.

Your three kids were currently being looked after by Katherine at Hayvenhurst, because she guessed that you and Michael would want your first night back together to be spent alone. So earlier on, you'd surprised him backstage as soon as he finished his second-to-last concert, and then immediately you were whisked away, nestled dreamily in your silk-laden king-sized bed, draped in pale pink, waiting almost no time at all to be filled to the brim with what you’d been craving since the last time you had the privilege of being fucked into the mattress by your husband. That last night had felt like a century ago now.

You knew exactly how lucky you were, but still you couldn't fathom that this was your reality, especially because you often looked to those days back in the seventies when Michael was the most inexperienced virgin in existence. You'd shown him the initial tips and pointers regarding sex, particularly with demonstrating how his eager mouth should perform oral, but over the years he'd exceeded performing the mere basics. And now you wondered if it was even possible that there could be a man on this earth more sexually skilled than Michael Jackson, because he gave you everything and more. It couldn’t be put into enough adequate words how perfect he was. Each roll of his hips felt like an ascension to the heavens, and my God, had you ascended tonight...

"Yeah, right there, mama?" he whispered through high groans, kneading your breast now and taking the hand that was rubbing your clit up to your thigh to hold it in place. "I know, baby girl... been hittin' it jus' right since we got home... whatever my girl wants..."

"Mhm, oh angel, 'm gonna cum—" you whined, hands gripping at the sticky sheets beneath you. The room smelled entirely of the warm musk of sex, with a hint of the clean sweat scent dripping from Michael's face and upper body; and of course where the element of sound was concerned, such was an amalgamation of moans, loud creaking, and the rough hit of the headboard banging against the wall with each thrust. Surely this piece of furniture would soon break, you thought; but you wouldn't say the concern aloud, because what kind of crazy woman would you be to say something that might have the potential to disrupt such mind-numbing pleasure?

"Ugh, God—rub y' clit, baby, I can't do everythin' at once," he murmured into your neck as he licked and sucked the most sensitive inch of the skin.

You did as he asked you to, bringing two fingers to your incredibly sensitive bud and massaging over it fiercely, desperate to reach your millionth orgasm of the night. Michael's strokes were getting erratic now, and he grunted profusely in your ear, big hands roaming everywhere. You took hold of one, interlocking your fingers, and you felt him smile against your ear, before pulling back to kiss you sloppily.

"Mm, tha's it, angel girl, yeah... keep holdin' my hand, 'm gonna get y' there..."

"Oh Mikey... baby, 's too much, I—ohhhhh—"

Your other hand now felt strangely limp, adjacent to a muscle cramp that made the movements over your clit virtually useless. So aggressively horny, you realised you were rubbing so hard that it was making the twist of your wrist uncomfortable, so with that hand you now instead wreathed that hand through your baby's curls, damp with sweat. You tugged on the lower ends of the strands, dragging his face down by his jaw to lick your tongue into his mouth, humming profanities that he always condemned.

"What did I say, hm? Pretty honey, I don't like when y' curse—oh—"

"Michael, you're—ughhhh—fucking me so—mm—dumb right now, I don't even know what I'm sayin'—"

"I know, I know..." he grinned, as he lifted your leg impossibly higher now, and drove into you with somehow even more force.

"Shit, baby—ohhhh my God—oh, 's so good! I can't believe this is real life..."

Your head lolled sideways onto the pillows, back arching as he fed an unbelievable degree of white hot pleasure into your aching body. Surely you wouldn't be capable of walking tomorrow, but you were an incredibly athletic dancer after all, and needed to be onstage for two duets to conclude Michael's tour, so unfortunately you'd have to grin and bear it.

"Been fuckin' you like this for years, honey... Not doin’ nothin’ different…” Michael moaned, head thrown back in euphoria, though pressing forward again to watch the sight of your breasts and the milky white ring around his cock that appeared each time he pulled back to thrust deeper.

"’n I never—shit—I never get used to it, babyyyyy, oh my—"

"Cum for me, beautiful... aw, my perfect lady, need t' feel it, c'mon..."

Your husband's forehead was now settled against yours, his sweat dripping into the beads running down your own face, and he'd never looked so fucking beautiful. The liquid appeared like glistening holiness on a face and an expression so inconceivably angelic, and his hand moved to cradle your jaw as he smiled through the ecstasy.

Your own face felt as limp as your hand had done, where it felt near impossible to say anything with intention; and Michael understood, knowing just how delirious you were after so much mind-blowing sex. And it wasn't merely the act of sex that was exhausting after so many rounds—it was Michael himself, the way Michael performed sex. He did nothing by halves, as was obvious in the way he produced his art, and in his eyes lovemaking was without a doubt the most meaningful, celestial art form in existence, no matter how filthy he had a tendency to make it.

But Michael believed nothing could be filthy that had you at the forefront, and he had carried that same sentiment into this night, a night complete with the sort of thing his mother had spent his entire youth deeming as pure sin. His most cherished sight was to see you reach your climax, and as you came undone yet again in his arms—in equal timing as the spilling of his seed into your welcoming heat—he held you so tight, rubbing his warm thumb over your cheek, gripping your shaky hand with his protection while your body seized and unraveled. He talked you through the comedown, as always, and now the sun was just beginning to come up—dawn was breaking through the silk curtains—so hints of gold and purple shone down all over your body.

In Michael’s eyes, that drapery of colour rendered you the most divine goddess he had ever laid eyes on. He understood in that moment—in the presence of the universe's morning light entwining with your natural, inherent beauty—that this was the most perfect experience involved in last night’s decision to make love until day began.

"So beautiful f'me, baby..." he whispered with the utmost sincerity, slowing his thrusts as he peppered the softest kisses all over your face and returned to knead your tender breasts, one at a time while you caught your breath. That was a specific thing Michael did a lot, providing a gentle massage that although didn't feel gentle in your overstimulation, always worked to calm you.

"Yeah, feel me, sweet girl... love y' so much, mama... my perfect angel..."

As gentle and tender as he never could retreat from, Michael adjusted your overexerted body so that you now lay on your side, with him also sideways, nose to nose with you. He didn't pull out, because he knew you'd whine, and of course he'd always rather stay with his body merged into yours. He kissed you softly, and continued to stroke his hands up and down your body, squeezing your ass, your thighs, and again your breasts, of course. Both of you had impeccable stamina because you were top-quality performers, but it was often the case that even just one orgasm could make you sleepy, let alone as many as Michael had given you in these last few hours. And you hadn't stopped for breath throughout each, so he assumed that now you must surely be done, therefore deciding that he'd give you aftercare until you drifted off into a slumber.

And yet despite all that, miraculously you felt in your heart and in your lower abdomen that you still weren't finished with him.

"Y'want me to run a bath for us, mama?" Michael whispered, pressing soft pecks to your nose and lips as his slender fingers caressed your torso and pulled you close to him, gently dragging your leg over his thigh, before running his hand up and down its softness.

You hummed in content, not even registering his question.

"Y' all spent now, hm?" he tried again, with a small smile at how completely blissed out you looked in front of him.

"Don't want you to pull out, baby..." you sighed deliriously, wrapping your arms around his neck and playing with his curls.

"Oh, but I need to, honey, if you want that bath..."

You did want a bath with your husband, but the mere thought of how it felt to sit between his legs in the water, back against his naked chest, soft member certain to rise against your lower back... it only made your arousal return close to violently. What had gotten into you tonight? Ovulation, probably. But absolutely no protection had been used, so that might prove to be a problem.

"I don't know what I want," you whined. "I want your dick..."

Michael's eyes widened in surprise, and he answered with a chuckle. "Y'want it some more? For real, mama? I don't wanna break this bed. Or you..." He furrowed his brows with genuine concern about your comfort. "Think you're way too sensitive right now, girl—aren't ya?"

"No, Mikey, 'm fine... Want it again... Love how you fill me, baby."

Now you were really just babbling nonsense, but you had to make him see that you were totally serious—unfortunately for your body and its inevitable incapabilities the following day.

"Alright, if you're sure," Michael laughed, kissing your nose. You felt him twitch inside you, and on instinct you bit your lip and shut your eyes tight.

"The sun's comin' up, mama. Been deep in this tight pussy for hours 'n hours..."

Playfully, he delivered a sudden thrust into your sweet spot, and your nails dug into his biceps with a sharp sigh. "Honey, don't... Don't tease."

"Just messin' with y', sweetheart. But first I need to get y' a glass of water, 'cause you’ll be dehydrated. I really put y' through that mattress." He chuckled softly, still gazing into your tired eyes.

"Nooo," you protested, squinting in frustration as you pawed at his upper back.

"Yes. Don't argue w' me—I'll be back in just two minutes, okay?"

"Whatever," you nodded, visibly irritated, but you knew he was right. Having gone the last few hours without water was akin to doing a several-hour workout without a single sip. You definitely needed to replenish your electrolytes, and you knew Michael would make the relevant decision to mix in Celtic sea salt too, to serve that purpose.

To your dissatisfaction, he finally pulled out, the wet pop sound serving as a serious bother to your desperate nervous system, despite how you knew he would be back inside you in under five minutes. A filthy stream of his release slipped out in slow drops between your thighs, coating the sheets beneath, and you made a mental note to make sure you cleaned that up in the morning before the maid unfairly had to.

The whine that left your throat as he disconnected made him shake his head with an amused laugh. He tapped your cheek and kissed your temple, before jumping up out of bed and shrugging on some sweatpants.

Your eyes almost rolled into the back of your head at the sight before you. First, there was the quick glimpse of his ever-hard, aching cock standing up against his stomach, decorated in veiny ridges, the glistening tip resting against his belly button before he tucked it into the grey cotton. Second, there was the view of that same beautifully enormous cock now poking up so harshly against said fabric that his decision to even slip into the sweatpants was rendered useless.

But thirdly, there was the wildest sight of all. Now, to preface, this wasn't the first time that the following had occurred after a passionate night, but you'd never seen it so starkly feral before. That third sight being, of course, the existence of seemingly never-ending bright red streaks of scratch marks running down the plane of your husband's back, and in their depth it felt surprising that you hadn't accidentally drawn blood. He looked as though he'd been mauled and attacked by a wild animal, and that wasn't all too inaccurate, really, as you'd certainly spent tonight behaving like such an animal, so savage and undomesticated with the way you grabbed and pawed at your man relentlessly. You couldn't help it.

As Michael stood up, adjusting the waistband of his sweats, he muttered something to you with a grin. "My entourage are gonna be sick of us..."

Immediately, your face squinted into something of concern. Aloud you gasped as you suddenly learned what you had unfairly been left unaware of.

Indeed, Michael's entire entourage were staying in your house. They were sleeping in various rooms, from the top floor to the bottom, and had been doing so all week of the LA shows. But of course since you'd only just returned to California this afternoon right before the show, and had jumped on your husband with so much aroused aggression immediately upon the show's closing, you hadn't paid attention to anyone else. Michael had made the generous offer to allow his team to stay with him rather than book hotel rooms, since your mansion was more than big enough, but it definitely would've helped for him to have told you so! Clearly it hadn't slipped his mind, and he didn't seem at all bothered by their presence, despite having spent literally all night ploughing into you as loud as ever. He stunned you the way he could be so shy in so many circumstances, and so the very opposite in others.

"Wh—? Michael? What do you mean, your fuckin' entourage?"

He only shook his head with a smile, strolling up to the door, dick still pressing up very visibly against his pants. The early sun was shining perfectly over the print, and it made for the most delightful image.

"Shh, 's okay; y'know they're used to it from whenever we've been with 'em in hotels."

"Michael, we're never that loud in hotels. We were insane tonight, what the f—?"

"Aht," he quietened your cursing before it had a chance to leave your lips. "Whatever, baby. I'll be back in a minute. Play with your clit f'me while y' wait."

You laid there in sheer disbelief, heart hammering with the embarrassment of having sounded like such a filthy slut for hours on end, and with the guilt of almost definitely disrupting their sleep. How would you face them all tomorrow? Michael could be such a mischievous dick sometimes.

Biting your lip in frustration, you pictured his naked image again, how excited you were for him to come back and give it to you all over again—a little quieter this time, or an attempt at quieter—and with a giddy, ditsy smile, you reached a hand down to prepare yourself for what would have to be the final round. Surely.

Meanwhile, in the kitchen, Michael had come face-to-face with Bill, who had also opted to hydrate, although for the opposite reason.

"You guys finally stopped now?" Bill asked, a slight despair in his tone, but amused all the same.

"No," Michael smiled bashfully, pouring a glass of pure filtered water for himself first. For the duration, he maintained a stance in the corner by the wall that concealed the monster he was packing beneath. Of course privacy had been a foreign word to Michael tonight, but nevertheless, it disturbed him that Bill of all people might see his erection so up close.

"What, is this just a short pause for refreshments before you resume with round one hundred million? How many times, kid? Jesus! I knew you had great stamina but... shit, man."

The younger man shrugged, still smirking as he downed the glass. But then Bill walked from where he'd been standing at Michael's side, to behind him, just to put back his glass on the counter, but with that, encountering something that had him almost speechless.

The marks.

Tonight—or this morning, rather—Michael was a walking picture of sex. His curls had been tugged in all different directions; the bottom half of his face was wrecked with faint lipstick stains; his neck was savagely adorned with deep, bordering on unhealthy-looking lovebites; and aside from the boner he’d done well so far to hide from Bill, there was also another element that you hadn't yourself noticed in the bedroom. The newborn light hadn't been gleaming brightly enough over every area of Michael's body, so while it had shone the perfect spotlight over the marks on his back, it had failed to portray to you the product of your gnawing nails all over his chest. There were faint marks on his biceps, but they were surprisingly not a match for how intense the ones on his chest were. They matched those of his back profile, which Bill was staring in astonishment at.

"Michael, what in the name of—? Damn, what are you doin' to her up there that's got her markin' you up like this?"

Michael's eyes widened upon hearing that Bill had seen the extent of your vicious attack, but he turned casually and laughed, now having poured a second glass for you. He opened up a cupboard and took out the salt.

But now Bill had noticed the other thing. Michael was incredibly naive to assume he could've really hidden a whole erection throughout this entire conversation all the way to his journey back up the twisted staircase. For most men it was a struggle to cover up, but for Michael it was just impossible to. He was insanely huge.

"Oh God," Bill groaned at the sight of what couldn't possibly be obscured beneath Michael's sweats. "Well, I didn't see that when you first walked in. That why you won't look at me properly?"

Michael's head whipped to the side, to look in confusion at the man who he deemed his literal father figure.

"Huh?" he squinted, before seeing where Bill's gaze went. "Oh—uh, oh my God, yeah, I didn't want y' to see that, but y'know I can't really help it, so..."

Bill chuckled, shaking his head as he turned from him and walked over to the centre counter. "You're crazy, kid. You plannin' to go 'til sunrise or somethin'?"

"Whatever my lady wants," Michael hummed as he stirred the salt into your tall glass. "What time is it now? The sun's already comin' up a little."

"It's," Bill checked the watch on his wrist, "5.22."

"For real?" Michael snapped his head around, then snapped it back forward immediately afterward when he remembered he'd rather not be looking at his second father right now.

"Yup. But you didn't get back 'til around eleven thirty, so six hours you've been goin' at it for."

Michael's mouth dropped open. He knew he had excellent stamina, and that you did too, but he couldn't believe that neither of you were ready to go to sleep yet. This night was certainly one he'd title as magical, although it never took much for Michael to class a night with you as part of that category of experience.

Now done with preparing your glass, he began walking back over to the door leading out into the hall, and Bill kept his distance, refusing to look ahead.

"Is there another baby on the way, Mike?"

"I don't know—we'll have to wait 'n see. We're not plannin' on it but we also aren't tryna prevent it either."

"Man, you sure sound like you're plannin' on it, goddamn."

Michael only laughed, leaving the room to make his way back upstairs and into your arms.

He sat you on his lap, let you rock over his heavy, clothed bulge while you sipped the water, refusing to resume the sex until you were properly hydrated. And then you bounced on his cock for what felt like another beautiful lifetime, even more ethereal now as your body glowed with the rise of the sun while you worked your dancer's hips, movements always guided by your man. How you had the energy to ride cowgirl after all those hours was beyond you, but it was one of your most favourite positions, and when you did inevitably begin to falter and feel a little dizzy with the overexertion as you neared your climax, Michael took over, ordering you to now do nothing but rest over him, while he thrusted upward in long, deep strokes. Alongside that provision of pleasure, he murmured sweet nothings in each ear, squeezing your breasts, expressing all his devotion.

Yet again, his hot seed hit deep into your womb, and you fell asleep the way you'd missed so much—with him still inside you, the milky substance having more than enough opportunity to explore your walls and keep its place there for conception.

Neither of you had spoken seriously about having another child, and it really wasn't practical for your careers at this stage; but the idea of a fourth baby had always existed in the background of your conversations, in the subtext of Michael's excitement whenever he would see you hold someone else's newborn, or how you would both gush over the adorable sight of the tiniest clothing; or even in the sadness you both expressed at how quickly your children were growing.

If you did happen to have conceived a child sometime during this passionate night, it was doubtful that either of you would regret such reckless, continual insemination.

angelcrescent © 2026 ˖ ࣪🥡🥢⁺˖꙳◦🐚 ╱ inspired by this thought and the picture that accompanied it… ;)

Your foot tapped impatiently against the club floor, bass sounding from nearby. You were stood in the hallway by the restrooms, holding yourself up against the wall.

“Hello?” The familiar voice came out almost sounding like a whisper. “You get on my fucking nerves, you know that?” You immediately started, a small slur in your words.

Even hearing his voice sent an infuriating energy through your body. He stuttered your name, surprised that you would be calling right now. In the middle of a late meeting, he forgot to turn his ringer off.

Imagine the surprise on his face seeing an unknown number. He assumed it was an emergency, asking to step out for a minute. Hearing your drunken voice made his eyebrows furrow.

“Duh nigga, who else?!” You were frustrated, tired of seeing his face everywhere. You guys had a nasty break up a few months ago, accusations of cheating flying around and never confirmed true.

A nice club outing with your friends soon turned into a drunk angry rage after seeing a photo of him pop up on your timeline. You didn’t care if you looked crazy, you care that he heard your voice.

“I’m busy.” A familiar beep played in your ear, and you looked at the phone in shock seeing the call ended. The next few moments consisted of repeated calls, outraged texts that probably lost your ticket into heaven, and tons of voice recordings.

“I hate you so fuckin’ much.”

“Probably busy with some girl, can’t even pick up the phone no more.”

“You plaaayed in my face”

"Fuck you...and every bitch you talk to."

You were even crying in some. Your emotions were everywhere and they all lied in Jaafar’s phone right now.

After the 30th missed call appeared in Jaafar’s peripheral, he rubbed a hand down his face. “I’m sorry, something important came up.” He said standing to dismiss himself.

The executives wished him well, and let them know they’ll let him know any updates. Once Jaafar made it to his car, he sighed reading and listening to every single voicemail and message you left.

The more he listened, the more irritated he got. He was almost fuming by the time he got to the end. You interrupted an important meeting because you were drunk off your ass.

He ended up calling and you didn't hesitate to answer. "What you want, nigga?" Your voice came through the speaker, slightly muffled beneath the booming music.

"Where you at?" He asked, fingers drumming impatiently against the steering wheel.

"Why would I tell you?”

"Because you called me thirty damn times."

You were silent at first, trying to process his words. "...oh."

"Now answer the question."

The roughness in his voice made you hesitate. "Velvet."

He didn't even respond, hanging up the phone in your face once again. By the time he arrived, you were in the midst of pouring another shot into your mouth.

Before you could toss it back, he took the shot from your hand. "What the fuck?" You complained throwing your hands up. He set the shot glass down and rubbed his temples. "Let's go."

You looked around in confusion, "Nobody wanna go with you boy." His jaw clenched, and he caught your chin, pulling you close until his lips brushed against your ear.

"Go get your ass in the car." His tone held poison, enough to have you straighten up immediately. You told your friends you had a ride and followed him out of the club.

Once he managed to get you in the car, you sat with your arms crossed, eyes fixated on the window. "What the hell is wrong with you?" He asked.

"I don't know what you're talking about." Your heeled shoe tapped against the car floor, not wanting to give him the time of day.

"I was in an important business meeting but someone kept blowing up my phone."

You shrugged as if you didn't care only frustrating him more. He started the engine and pulled off. "Should've just stayed then." You mumbled.

•••

"Say it again." He demanded, his hand was pressed into the middle of your back, delivering rough thrusts from behind. You didn't think a conversation would lead to you bent over the bed you once shared, but here we are.

Only cries fell from your mouth, too overwhelmed from his dick pounding inside of you. "You had the most to say earlier, what happened?" He said in an almost mocking tone. He placed one foot on the bed, only digging farther into you,

"P-please!" Your hand flew back to press against his thigh, tears rolling down your face. He was so deep inside, it felt like you could feel him in your chest. He grabbed your hand, holding it back as he didn't slow down.

"I thought you was a big girl, you can't take it?" He cooed. "N-no." You whimpered, legs shaking. "Yes, the fuck you can. If you can cuss me out like that, you can take this dick." One hand came down to slap against your ass.

"Shiiiit." You moaned, another release washing over you. He noticed the white cream forming around his dick, only covering your folds in more essence. He took his foot off the bed before wrapping one arm around your forearms.

You felt your arms slightly stretch back before realizing he was lifting you up. He took a step back, taking you off the bed. "W-what are yo-fuckkk." You felt yourself slide down onto his dick, feet now dangling in the air.

His other arm came up and wrapped around your neck, bicep slightly pressed against your throat. You went absolutely dumb, feeling him in your stomach.

"You still wanna cuss me out?" He asked hearing your moans as he moved you up and down. You shook your head not having the effort to respond.

“What’s my name?” He whispered in your knowing dang well you could barely speak. You literally had no where to go, only being able to rest your head on his shoulder.

“Fuckin’ say it.” He said delivering a hard thrust while simultaneously forcing you down. “FUCK—I-it’s daddy.” You cried.

“Mhm, and whose pussy is this?” All decorum from him went out the window, finally having his ex at his will. “Y-yours, it’s your pussy.” You whimpered still being fucked into.

Your acrylic nails lightly grazed against his abdomen. He sucked on your neck, and you slowly felt your orgasm rising. “D-daddy, I’m cumming.” You warned.

He tightened his biceps around your throat, pressing you against him, while his hips thrusted into you. “Cum on this dick.” You shivered, wetting his dick up once again.

He pulled out, and put you on the bed, flipping you onto your back. He didn’t hesitate to enter you again, pushing your legs back, knees fully touching the bed.

“DADDY—I CANT.” You cried, he pinned your legs down. “Open your mouth.” You were practically shaking, barely understanding what he just said.

He slapped the side of your thigh, “I said open your mouth.” You finally registered the command, opening your mouth. He spat into your mouth, sticking 2 fingers inside right after.

“Suck on that shit.”

You sucked on his fingers, eyes rolling back at the beating your pussy was getting. “You want me to nut on this pussy?”

“Yes, yes please!” You muffled around his fingers. He slowly moved his fingers back and forth in your mouth as if he was fucking it. His hips sped up, and grunts flew out of his mouth.

“Shit.” He mumbled pulling out to cum all over your clit. Your pussy clenched around nothing, missing the feeling of his dick already. He rubbed your clit spreading his nut around making your legs shake.

“Lil nasty ass.” He said removing his fingers from your mouth and delivering a light smack against your clit. He leaned down to kiss you, a heated passion mixed in between. He pulled away, grabbing your chin to keep your attention on him.

“Don’t you ever in your life speak to me like that again.”

“I-I won’t.” You whined, still trying to recover. He kissed you once more but this one was slower, more sensual like it meant something. After cleaning both of you up, he held you against his chest.

“I’m sorry Jaafar.” You mumbled. “I’m sorry too, princess.” He kissed youre forehead.

“You know I never cheated on you right.” You sat up, eyes still lightly puffy from crying, lashes damp as well.

“And I never cheated on you, but you wouldn’t listen.” He said.

Months of miscommunication, just for the truth to be fucked out of both of you. “I still love you.” He said.

“I love you too.”

You both shared one more kiss. Potential hope in the future.

“This pussy loves me so much, doesn’t it baby?” You felt like mush underneath him. Jermajesty was so deep, every stroke was long and sent chills down your spine. Your gummy walls pulsed around him, your creamy love coating him and leaking onto t he sheets.

“J-Jerma…Jermajes—ty…” His name came out in a broken cry, your legs were stiff and your toes were pointed toward the sky. His heavy breathing and the feeling of his hands on the back of your thighs, made you feel overwhelmed with pleasure.

“I know baby, I know…” He cooed in an almost mocking tone, “daddy knows…it’s too good, isn’t it?” He pushed your thighs further back and slow down, slamming into you with enough force to knock the air out of your lungs and drag a quiet, high pitched whimper out your throat every time. “You gonna let everybody know who’s makin’ you feel this good? Hm?” You couldn’t respond. You were breathless and lost in his web of never ending pleasure. The head of his dick kissed the roof of your gummy walls and soft cervix, sliding against the spongy spot before bumping into it. “Say my name baby, say. my. name.” His words were punctuated with heavy strokes that made you shut your eyes and tremble.

You breathlessly mouthed his name, physically incapable of using any words. Including his name. “Don’t go quiet now.” He slipped a hand down, his thumb caught your clit and he begins rubbing fast and tight circles on the wet cluster of nerves. “Let daddy hear how good you feel, let me hear you scream while you take this dick.” Your voice finally broke. It came out in a loud, whiny cry of pleasure before you were silenced for a moment again, only able to pant and let out shallow breaths. “That’s it baby…good girl…good…ha…good fuckin’ girl.” Your legs began to tremble, you reached up to push against him but you couldn’t reach, so your hand fell and you gripped the pillow behind your head as your eyes watered.

“C-Can’t…Can’t take…take it…” Jermajesty’s voice cracked as he moaned, watching you squirm and struggle—and fail—to run from the pleasure. “T-Too…too much…”

His pace quickened when you said this, like he was trying to fuck himself into your stomach, “You can take it baby girl.” He assured, “You can take it…” You tried to reach for him again but failed, babbling on about how good it felt and how you couldn’t take it. Your every sound was fuel for him to keep going, for him to fuck you better. “c’mon pretty girl, take it for me…” He began panting as he watched your face contort into a beautiful, twisted mess of pleasure. Your legs weak and your arms limp as you turned your head, drooling as he drilled into you. “that’s right, that’s it…” he breathed out. “Take it. Take it. Take it.”

You could feel him fucking the command into you, it was like a surge of electricity. Your eyes rolled back and you tried to look at him yet failed, your brain felt like mush and you felt a pressure building up in the pit of your stomach.

Jermajesty released your legs, allowing them to fall weakly beside his own thighs, but you weren’t free at all. He leaned down and grabbed your face, his big hand was gentle but firm as he forced you to look at him. “Don’t look away baby, let daddy watch you…” He groaned and smirked at you as you tried your hardest to keep your eyes opened, you just couldn’t though. “Look at me baby, don’t look away, let me watch my pretty girl cum…”

The tears in your eyes rolled down your cheeks in fat globs, whines spilling from your lips as you pouted with a helpless and desperate expression. Losing yourself completely in the feeling of his thick length ramming into you. “Jer—majesty…” You quietly whimpered out his name, your hand weakly reaching out to him. You pushed against his chest—like a feather trying to move a boulder—and shook your head. “i—i think…I think I’m g-gonna…pee…” You could feel it. That tightness, the pressure and the warmth. All in the pit of your stomach. Every stroke made more leak out, a hot liquid that was thinner than the creamy nectar that left a puddle underneath you just seconds ago.

Jermajesty grinned, that perfect gapped tooth grin that made your pussy clench around him. He didn’t see the problem—in fact—he only had more reason to keep going after hearing you say that. “You gonna make a mess for me? Hm?” He taunted. You let out a sob and lightly hit his chest.

“P-Please…I ca—“ You shook your head, looking down between your bodies. The sight of his toned chest all sweaty and his pelvis slamming into you, made your brain feel fuzzy. Your head lolled back into the pillows and your breathing was caught in your throat for a moment, leaving you breathless before you gasped for air. “I can’t take it I can’t take it.” You babbled out in a whiny moan.

“You can do it baby, you can take it…” Jermajesty cursed under his breath, the clamping of your walls bringing him closer to his own release with every millisecond passing. “you’re doing such a good job…so—fuck…so fuckin’ good, Mmph.” As a chill ran up his spine he kissed you, slowing his pace. The long, slow strokes made your toes curl, it felt like you were being torn apart. You couldn’t take it. You couldn’t go a second longer, the flood gates were opened and the moment his tongue slipped into your mouth, everything came rushing out.

You moaned his name into his mouth, your legs trembled and tensed, weakened then tensed again. Your body quivered and your walls fluttered in frantic beats around him, encouraging him to keep that same pace and drag out your orgasm even longer.

“So good…so fucking good…” his words were muffled by your mouth, you were too weak to even kiss him back, your jaw went slack as you silently laid underneath him. “such a p-pretty…girl…” He swallowed hard and leaned up, sitting back on his knees as he pulled your body even closer without pulling out for a minute. He pulled your body up so that you were practically riding him and began moving your hips so you were grinding on him. “c’mon baby, move your hips for me…move your hips for daddy…show daddy how much you love this dick.”

You did your best. Grinding slow against him, but it was clear that his approaching orgasm wouldn’t allow you to remain slow. He laid you back down and pushed your knees back again, positioned himself so that he could slam directly into you—forcing your body into a deep mating press—and began fucking you like it was his job.

“m-m-majesty…ahh…” You were going to break into a billion pieces, you really couldn’t take it. You were melting and breaking all at once, it felt so good. It felt too good.

“that’s right baby…say my name, say my name.” He went a bit faster, harder even. Plowing you like his life depended on it. “s-say it…” You spewed his name endlessly, over and over again till you couldnt anymore.

“J-Jermajesty…Jermajesty…feels so good—feels so good…I…l-love it…I love it…l-love you.” A soft broken whine left his lips and he grunted in your ear. He was so close. The muscles in his stomach tightened and he was drenched in sweat. Heart pounding and his thick length throbbing, he couldn’t hold out for much longer. You were so warm, fitting around him perfectly like a glove, your own arousal and the remnants of your orgasm dribbling out. Jermajesty knew he was nearing the finish line when a familiar chill ran down his spine.

“F-Fuck…” His voice was meek, sounding almost raspy as he sang your name in a beautifully soft moan before kissing you in a sloppy and anxious manner. Teeth and tongue clashing together as his eyes shut tightly, his eyebrows knotted together and he cupped your face while releasing your leg. “I—I love you…I love—Oh fuck…oh my…I-I…” He couldn’t even get the words out. Jermajesty was fucking you like a madman, his pace completely primal and full of lust. The headboard knocked against the wall in a fast pace rythem that mixed perfectly with the sounds of heavy breathing, moaning, wet skin and, whining. His pace made it impossible for you to see straight. He wanted to warn you so badly, to pull out and not to cum inside of you. But the idea of flooding you with his cum, getting you nice and pregnant was too perfect.

you stay very quiet and michael noticed that. later that night you're both sitting on the hood of his car outside Hayvenhurst, sharing food from a drive thru bag while the radio quietly plays in the background.

he nudges your shoulder. "You got real quiet back there, lady." You shrug. "Didn't have anything to add."

"...Why?" Another shrug. "...Never kissed, or got down to anyone." He slowly lowers a fry. "...You're serious?" He scans your face. You immediately regret saying it. "Forget it."

"No, no." He turns to face you completely. "You've never been kissed?" You shake your head, already embarrassed.

"I just... never cared that much." He studies you for a second, chin resting on his hand. "Don't look at me like that."

"I'm not lookin' at you any way."

"You are."

"I am not." Michael laughs, throwing his head back. "I ain't judgin' you, pretty lady."

"You totally are. Young man." You tease. "I'm jus’ surprised." You roll your eyes. "Ugh mike, shut up." 𐔌՞ ܸ.ˬ.ܸ՞𐦯 He shakes his head, smiling to himself. "I just figured... I dunno."

"What?" You ask curious. "Somebody would've beat me to it."

Your eyebrows pull together. "...Beat you to what?" He freezes. "...Nothin'." The fact he has the nerve to be shy after saying that. "Michael...what do you mean?"

"Nothin' pretty lady, don’t worry."

A few minutes pass before he casually says—"I could teach you both."

You almost choke on your soda. "I'm sorry?"

"You heard me." He chuckles. "No, I definitely didn't." You almost choke again. He grins behind his sunglasses, even though it's literally nighttime.

"I said I could teach you."

"You've lost your mind."

"C'mon."

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because you're my best friend!"

"So?"

"Sooo best friends don't…do that stuff."

"...Since when?"

"Since forever!"

He shrugs like you're the unreasonable one. "I think you're makin' up rules." You stare at him. "I am not kissing you."

"Didn't say you had to."

"I said I could help."

"That's the same thing."

"It's educational."

"Oh my goodness Michael."

"You gonna let some random dude be your first kiss and get down him?"

"...Eventually?"

"What if he's terrible?"

"I can take that."

"But what if he ain't patient?" You don't answer. Michael knew what you did there. His smile softens just a little.

"You'd get nervous, hm?"

"...maybe."

"You'd pretend you weren't."

"...maybe, yeah."

"And then he'd rush you." You look away. He sighs. "I wouldn't, pretty lady." That catches your attention. His voice is quieter now. "I'd wait..whenever you’re ready, I’d wait." The air suddenly feels different.

You look down at the paper cup in your hands. "...You're doing that thing."

"What thing?"

"Making everything sound reasonable." He laughs. "Is it workin'?"

"...A little."

"I knew it." He hops off the hood and walks around until he's standing in front of you.

"No pressure."

"You literally just spent ten minutes pressuring me."

"I spent ten minutes presenting evidence."

"You'd make a terrible lawyer."

"I'd make a great teacher." You roll your eyes so hard it makes him laugh. "...okay, one kiss…and you learn me how to give a blowjob?," you mumble.

His grin immediately gives him away. "So you agreed." You look away shyly. "Don't sound so excited." He laughs. "I'm not!"

"Oh you are."

"I'm happy you're trustin' me." He steps closer, suddenly much gentler than before. His hand comes up slowly, giving you plenty of time to move if you want. "You really want this, pretty?"

"...Yeah." He bites his lips. "Cute."

"..Michael."

"Sorry." He's smiling, but softer now. "Just... don't think so much." Easy for him to say.

The second his fingers brush your cheek, your heart starts racing. "I don't know what I'm doing," you admit quietly. "I know, m’lady and that’s okay."

"You better not laugh, okay?"

"I won't."

"You promise?"

"I promise." He leans in slowly, his voice barely above a whisper. "I got you." The kiss is brief and warm. Gentle enough that it barely registers before it's over. When he pulls away, you're still blinking at him. "...That's all?"

He smiles. "For now."

"...okay well.. show the dirty deed than." He flashes that signature Bad-era grin.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁. . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

he laid out on the bed , his shirt lifted and a lazy smirk on his face as you sat on your knees.

"you look a little flushed pretty girl." his hand coming up to your cheek. "you said you wanted to learn, you getting cold feet now?" Now Michael knows your inexperienced , he’d been taking things extra slow with you but sometimes you surprised him and he didn’t stop you.

"n-no." you started. "but what if i do it wrong , what if i bite you or something? I don’t know."

"you’re not gonna bite me sweetheart... and who knows i might like…that." he chuckled seeing your face flush even more. "c’mon you’re a big girl." his hands wrapping around your thighs. “and i’m here to help you , i promise."

you bite down on your lips, he let out a low groan , he didn’t care how sloppy it might be , he needed to feel your lips around him. "It’s jus’ like a lollipop."

"okay.." he smiled softly , his big hand caressing your cheek. “good girl.” he unbuckled his pants. "Go ahead, take my cock out sweetheart." his eyes were low as he watched you nervously fiddling around with his pants , lifting his hips up to allow you to pull them down enough to pull his cock out,

your eyes widening at his length. "m-Michael..you’re really big." he laughed softly. "Touch it, sweet girl." he groaned softly as you held his soft cock in your hands.

"Y-yeah my sweet girl, now move up and d-down." you obeyed. "slowly." he trailed off as you moved your hands , pre-cum dribbling down his cock. "O-oh fuck…princess , keep going."

"now , if y’want.. give the tip a little kiss." lowering your head down, kissing the tip, the sticky essence coating your lips.

"good girl, open your mouth." he ran his hands through your head softly. "g-go slow." parting your lips , letting his cock slowly slip into your mouth. "fuuuuck." he groaned softly, hissing when your teeth grazed the vein.

"Goodness baby , careful with your t-teeth , you’re doing so good though….so good f’me." he praised,your muffled moans,sending vibrations through his cock. "sh-shit, you like sucking my cock?" he groaned, he tugged at your hair softly. desperately wanting to push your head down and make you gag on his cock…shit he was about to cum. "wait fuck hold on sweet girl , stop.."

"d-did i do something wrong?" you pulled off of him, your lips swollen, eyes teary — and fucked out. "no , of course not – fuck you were too good i almost came." he huffed out a breathless laugh.

"isn’t that a good thing?" you titled your head to the side confused , you were killing him. "Ye-yeah it is angel, but i didn’t want to overwhelm you…" his cock was still hard , twitching against his stomach.

you didn’t know what you were doing, but you picked it back up. "Baby wait you don’t—fuck!" he hissed as you bobbed up and down on his length.

"Ohhhh-baby-fuck." you smiled, mouth full of his cock. "S-shit, sweetheart, i’m gonna c-cum." you kept going , jerking off what couldn’t fit in your mouth.

his cock twitched before his cum shot into your mouth , some of it leaking out the corners of your mouth. "a-ah shitttt, that’s enough f’me..pretty." you pulled off of him , cum and spit coating your lips. "did i do good big daddy." You tease.

"good?" he chuckled breathlessly. "Sweet girl, you sure you haven’t done that before?" you flushed , swatting his chest.

"Mike stop…" he pulled you into his lap. "You did so good." your need for him growing as he praised.

"m-mike-" he rubbed soft circles into your thighs. "getting needy mama?" you whimpered, nodding. "you did such a good job for your first time…only right i help you now right?" you core burning with anticipation. "Wanna sit on my face."

"W-What?" he pulled you further up. "c’mon..let me taste you." he whispered sweetly, hissing the insides of your thighs. "Want you to ride my face , use me. Please."

❤︎ © 888latte.

Marlon

To start, all of them have an understanding that they can’t be there all the time to please you. Whether you wait for them or have fun on your own I think Marlon would want to be the most involved.

I think he’d want to see what you watched or read! Want to know if you’d like to try anything that you seen and what made you click them?

If you say because the person in the video reminded you of him he’d think it’s sweet.

He’d have you put the laptop on the bed and sit in his lap facing the screen

you lean forward to press play while his hands feel up your body

Obviously it’s hard to focus on the screen when your loving boyfriend who you missed so much is finally in your grasp but he kisses your cheek and turns your head back to pay attention.

“ohh this must’ve been where you got the idea to tie me up…”

or

“I think you have a set in that color” he takes his fingers out of you and tastes them before urging you to find it “go put it on so we can get it right”

With him I don’t think he’d look at videos that were too crazy or things he thought were degrading. That doesn’t mean he wouldn’t experiment with you but seriously hurting you was a no.

I imagine that if you ever caught him he’d be using his phone, shirt half pulled up, and pants unbuttoned snd pulled down just enough

He whispers your name whether you hear him or not

Jackie

I wrote a fic about this but I think he likes watching you!

“it’s just me love, keep doing what you’re doing”

He may or may not have a folder of all the videos you sent him when he was on tour, hearing the soft moans of the video combined with yours makes him feel euphoric.

He wouldn’t care what you watched as much as he cared about seeing you feel good. Whatever your thing is that’s fine with him as long as it gets you expressive and responsive to your own touch!

You’d probably catch him with a magazine and when you did I think he’d be more sub leaning…hear me out

You let him continue before helping him

“I see you’re enjoying your magazine…”

“you look better, feel better too” he removes his fingers from his length but you put your hand on top of his and keep going

Sometimes he’d put your favorite video on and have you sit on your knees legs open with the vibrator against you

maybe this is self indulgent but I think he cleans you up with his mouth afterwards

Jermaine

I definitelyy think he’d tease you for it! He likes getting you flustered or embarrassed.

“Jermaine this isn’t necessary!”

you reached for your phone back but he dodged you

“It is though, need to see what my angel baby’s been up to…”

I also think he’d be a little jealous

“Nothing beats the real thing right sweetheart?”

“That guy in the video wouldn’t even know what to do with you…”

I think he’s a thigh man so if yall found a vid with thigh fucking he’s immediately trying it with you

I think you’d catch him using something of yours like your panties or shirt, he doesn’t ‘need’ physical media.

If you offered to help him out by giving head, you got em wrapped around your finger FOR SURE

Tito

I think he would try to act like he didn’t know at first. He’s definitely heard you before and you may have forgotten to close a tab or two but he just smiled and left it at that.

I think if you wanted him involved you’d have to bring it up, but he’d be down 100%

“You’d let me do that to you?” sure he thought it was sexy but it showed you trusted him and that was a huge turn on

I don’t think you’d catch him in the act as easily as the others BUT if you did I think he’d like mutual masturbation.

“Show me how you do it when i’m not around ” type thing

I also see him talking you through it, and he’s real good at it too.

Janet

yall are freaked outtt. The type to share a twitter account, send links, all that!

If she ever caught you she’d think it’s sexy, if anything she’d be upset you didn’t ask if she wanted to watch sooner.

If you caught her it depends on the mood, she may make you watch and beg to touch or immediately reach out for you to come closer.

Very experimental!

I think she’d surprise you with lingerie and other toys

“Mikey, what does this do?” you pointed, watching as he put the rest of his things down, his eyes wide with pure excitement.

You knew him well enough to know that when it came to anything music-related, he loved to talk about it. For hours you’d sit back on his oversized bed that now seemed just a tad bit too big for the room, talking about his music. He’d go on and on about his process, the things he’d like to try in the future, all sorts of things until the sun had finally gone to sleep for the night, after a long day of keeping the sky so bright, now trading off shifts with the moon who played peek-a-boo with the stars, but you didn’t mind. It was almost refreshing to see an artist that was so dedicated to their craft, who strived to touch people's hearts through music.

“Oh! This here makes it so that you only hear that specific sound,” he spoke like a kid that had just entered a candy shop for the first time with their allowance.

“I see,” you nodded, getting up to get a closer look.

Michael had just gotten started explaining all the different knobs when the sound of the heavy door creaking against the frame disrupted his speech, revealing Paul standing there with a smile plastered on his face as he watched the scene in front of him. Michael's hand was still in the position of pointing at one of the knobs, while you watched attentively nodding in response.

“Paul! I've got someone for you to meet," Michael spoke, standing up straight, walking over to Paul, wrapping an arm around his shoulder, guiding him towards you. 

“Oh yeah? Is this the girlfriend you're always talking about?” Paul teased, nudging at Michael as he spoke. 

“Yeah, look at her, so pretty.” 

“Here he goes,” he playfully rolled his eyes at Michael, earning a laugh from him before focusing back on your smiling form. “Nice to meet you,” he stuck his hand out, as you quickly took it in your own hand before pulling him into a less formal greeting.

“It’s nice to meet you too,” you smiled pulling away as Michael got his voice warmed up.

“Oh Michael, I didn't know you talked about me this much,” you teased, sneaking up behind him, pressing a kiss to his cheek, disrupting his warm-up in the best way possible.

The whole reason you were even in the studio is because Michael had a new song planned, “The Girl Is Mine,” he called it, and to be honest, he was beyond excited for you to be able to hear it. Paul was really only there to give pointers on the song, and as someone he’d spent a lot of his time with and who was in the music industry as well, he valued his opinion.

There were a few takes with the beauty of the instruments playing, creating the most gorgeous instrumental as Michael bobbed his head, his body swaying to the feeling of each beat of the song, his mind and body completely immersed in the song as Paul stood across from him, both of their headphones pressed against their ears while they stepped up to the mic.

What was supposed to be a solo moment quickly turned into silly banter between the two of them, creating what you didn't know at the time would be one of the most iconic moments of the song. The playful nature of their back and forth quickly melted into the instrumental, becoming the perfect touch.

You laughed to yourself, amused by the way they went back and forth, Michael making silly faces towards Paul as he spoke. It was such a wholesome moment that made your stomach and heart flutter; maybe it was the deep admiration you had for the two of them, or maybe it was just the scene in front of you.

The song was successful, to say the least. In fact, the whole album was beyond successful, with people talking about it everywhere, constant sales pouring through as it sold out in many stores, and Michael was beyond proud, especially with the fact that the song he was most proud of was gaining attention, reaching number two on the US Billboard Hot 100.

“Were you two really fighting over the same girl?” the interviewer laughed as she watched the two of them laugh, with Michael speaking up first.

“Oh, no, she's mine,” he laughed, looking down at his lap, Paul laughing along with him.

“Is there a specific person that came to mind when making this song?” There was a moment of silence that came with the question as they processed what was asked.

“Yeah, my wonderful girlfriend who I love a lot really inspired me when it came to this song,” he explained, the interviewer nodding as she listened.

“After seeing them two together, I really understood why Michael spent hours talking about her,” Paul spoke up, nudging Michael, who sat next to him.

"Paul!”

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