mindalii

Summary: When Michael invites you to his home, things get heated. He makes it clear that he doesn’t want to spend the night alone.

Warnings: kissing, too much tension, reader is a turn-off lol, mentions of Michael’s children, nervous reader, manipulative reader, reader playing untouchable, begging Mike, sensitive Mike, soft power dynamic, playfulness and teasing about his riches, no explicit sex.

Author’s note: Let them be awkward. Let them hesitate. The tension is the best part.

Word count: 1.2k

While you and Michael were kissing, you could feel the tension growing and growing. The room was getting hot. You reached your hand toward your neck, adjusting your collar, and suddenly felt his palm on you as he tried to slip his fingers under your clothes.

When his fingers touched your skin close to your chest, it worked like a red light going off in your head, and you immediately pulled away from him. Licking your lips, you were still looking at him confused, trying to calm your trembling. His dark eyes were on you, clouded with lust.

Hiding your hands on your jeans and trying to wipe the sweat off them, you awkwardly looked up at him.

"Wow," you said. "This is amazing."

You didn’t want to hurt Michael and maybe you actually wanted to continue, but something in your head was writing the word "Stop" in huge letters.

Feeling his soft hands on you, you closed your eyes, trying to preserve the memory of his warmth.

Michael, as if understanding what you were trying to say, immediately softened his approach. The rough, disorganized touches stopped, and now you felt him gently running his palms along your back and hips.

He moved closer to you and took your face in his hands, leaving a fleeting sweet kiss on your lips. You almost reached for him. A deep sigh escaped your lips.

You could feel in every touch and in the way he looked at you that he was holding himself back. Knowing this brought you so much pleasure. And he didn’t even hide how badly he wanted you.

"What do you want to do next?" Michael asked. His voice came out quiet and muffled. You almost never heard him like this. Completely unofficial, too intimate, exactly how the people close to him heard him…

"I," you began, looking away to the side, trying to gather your thoughts. It was difficult with his hands still on your hips. It sent such a rush of excitement into your stomach… "Maybe you could introduce me to your kids?..."

Genius.

You blurted out the first thing that came to mind. Not that you wanted to ruin the moment by shifting the conversation to Michael’s children, but you had wanted to meet them for a long time, and finally you had such an opportunity.

Michael really stared at you in surprise, but it seemed he wasn’t too embarrassed.

"They’re probably already asleep," he said, shrugging his shoulders. "But you can see them in the morning. If you stay."

Michael’s words made you freeze for a moment. You blinked rapidly, not knowing what to answer. Why did he have to do this…

"But where will I sleep?" you immediately asked about what was bothering you. You couldn’t ignore the elephant in the room.

Michael smiled somehow sweetly.

"Well, being the gentleman that I am, I should offer you to stay anyway. It’s already late, why go home this late," he said, rolling his eyes. "And as the owner of this house, naturally I offer you to sleep in my bedroom."

You roughly knew what he meant. Sleep – with him or without him, in his bedroom. You were sure there were plenty of rooms in his house where you could stay – even here, in the living room. No one would suffer during the night, however you decided to arrange yourselves…

You knew what he was hoping for. Sleeping together didn’t always mean sex, and you knew that if you had already said no, he wouldn’t insist and would respect your choice.

Sleeping together could simply mean spending time together. Touches, caresses, hugs. He could hug you and fall asleep like that. Something told you that a man like Mike needed this. If he hadn’t been seeing anyone for a long time, surely he felt lonely in his huge house, especially at night…

Your lips slowly spread into a smile, and a sparkle appeared in your eyes. The thought of it gave you confidence.

"Michael," you began, stepping a little closer to him. "Do you want to stay with me tonight?"

Your confident look and posture seemed to affect him, and he laughed shyly. For the first time that evening, you saw him blush.

"I would like you to save me from loneliness. I would really like that," he said sincerely.

And once again you saw his childish nature. You couldn’t help but smile at him.

Suddenly he rested his head on your shoulder and pulled you closer by the waist, hugging you.

"You know, I feel such peace when I’m around you, as if you…"

You put your hand on his head, running your fingers through his hair. You felt bigger than him in that moment. That was exactly where that feminine strength was. You liked that he was ready to open up to you.

"As if what, Mikey?" You called him that out loud for the first time, but it came out naturally.

Hearing your words, he hugged you even tighter. His head sank closer into your hair, his calm breathing tickling your neck. You felt his nose touch your skin.

"You’re so warm," he said hoarsely. "You smell amazing, Like home. You so open to me," he said.

You smiled slightly at the ceiling, your cheeks growing warmer. Your hands moved along his strong back and you left them on his shoulders.

You were glad that he thought of you that way and took you so seriously.

His hands settled on your soft sides and he kissed your collarbone, then lower. It seemed he simply couldn’t stop. You silently laughed at the ceiling. Now that you had made such a mistake and come here – he wasn’t going to let you go that easily.

"Y/N," Michael drawled softly, laughing himself. He looked up at you and stared at you. "Please stay."

Seeing him ask so sincerely was more than you could handle. He wanted this. It took away your last doubts about Michael. He really needed you.

"Okay," you said quietly, shrugging your shoulders. Your eyes crinkled with a relaxed smile.

You felt Michael tighten his arms around your waist and lift you slightly in his embrace. You grabbed onto his shoulders and opened your mouth in amusement.

"Oh, come on," you said, starting to lightly hit him on the back. "Maybe I just want to stay in such a huge house."

Mike smiled sarcastically.

"Yeah, of course. I saw your face when I even suggested coming here," he said, catching your playful tone. "Scaredy-cat. Did you really think I could hurt you?"

His tone became serious, and his eyes became like those of a puppy looking straight into your soul. Your lips twitched and you smiled, looking away.

"I don’t know!" you told him. "Stop teasing me. Anyway, Mikey, I’m on guard," you added, confidence shining on your face.

He understood that you were talking about your night together in his bedroom.

"There would be no inappropriate touches," he said, raising and showing you his hands.

You narrowed your eyes as if you didn’t trust him, and he laughed amusingly.

"Stop!" he said. "Or I’ll start thinking you don’t want to touch me at all."

Well, that was already very far from the truth.

Hurrying to convince him of the opposite, you took his hand into your palm and felt his warmth. In response, he trustingly squeezed your hand, and you smiled.

"Okay. Let’s go. Show me where to go before I get lost," you said.

Bonus part is here

Author's Note. So, I was walking in Moscow, listening to Thriller, and I thought about how these two worlds could have crossed in 80s. Then the answer came to me.

mindalii Masterlist.

Word count: 1.5k

Description: You're an actress from the former Eastern Bloc who receives an invitation to take part in the filming of Michael Jackson's Thriller, which turns into a cultural exchange—and lots of flirting.

Warnings: Thriller era, flirting, music video filming, Eastern European Reader, sexual tension, language barrier, Mike being smitten, he's gentleman btw, mutual attraction.

You started filming the music video and immediately realized that it was a real short film.

Half of the humor and interest of the picture was built on the clash of mentalities. According to the plot, Michael took you to watch a thriller, and after that he started scaring you on the way home.

It was very pleasant to work with Michael. Although you didn’t understand everything he said because of the difficulties of translation, you had fun with him.

The camera was filming the two of you as you walked.

“Why are you so obsessed with scary movies?” you asked, smiling. You were leaving the cinema hall, and you still had popcorn in your hands.

Michael took your hand.

“They are associated with Halloween for me. Halloween is cool!” he said.

His attentive eyes were looking at you, and you felt a little lost. But according to the plot, your character was supposed to be a little scared and flustered— that was how you felt.

The scenery changed. And now the picture of a guy and a girl in a mini skirt walking near the forest was beginning to become more dangerous.

“We don’t have thrillers, Mikey!” you said.

The camera was filming your face — you looked charming: red lipstick, dark gray eyeshadow and slightly pink cheeks. Your partner kept flustering you, and you playfully brushed him off, hiding your smile.

He straightened up and looked at you proudly. His mischievous smile stayed on his face.

“Then let me tell you,” he started.

After that, the song began, and Michael started singing along. Your task changed a little, and you had to walk beside him while he made circles around you. You slowly moved your feet, carefully listening to what he was telling you. Your mouth opened in surprise.

You try to scream But terror takes the sound before you make it

Michael scared you by suddenly grabbing your shoulders, and you dropped the popcorn, jumping in place. Coming back to yourself, you rolled your eyes and poked him on the arm. However, a smile appeared on your face, and you continued looking at him and listening.

Michael seemed to enjoy the process. You even doubted whether you were acting or not, because it really looked like a real acquaintance. You had exchanged a couple of words before filming started, and now it felt like your meeting was continuing.

Michael looked at you as if he was genuinely interested in telling you all of this. And he also seemed to enjoy your reactions and your presence.

You didn’t know that he absolutely loved your shy posture, your red skirt and thin T-shirt under the denim jacket, as well as your thick wavy hair tied into a ponytail. You didn’t know that he liked your big blue eyes, your cute expressions, and your soft skin.

The song was long. Michael sang the whole time until the monsters appeared. You nailed the terrified expression, although they didn’t seem scary to you at all. Michael scared you much more with his sudden movements.

At the end, when you were already lying there “without a pulse” and started screaming, he came up to you and moved your hands away from your face.

“Hey!” His soft voice brought you back to life. “What’s the problem?”

You looked at Michael, like you did not understanding what was happening. Just a moment ago it seemed that you were surrounded by creatures, but now you were alone in the room again.

He smiled with that mysterious smile of his again. His eyes sparkled when he looked at you.

“Come on. I’ll take you home,” Michael said, and you grabbed his hand. He lifted you up and pulled you close while leading you out of the room.

The final shot — he looked into the camera and a creepy smile appeared on his face, while his eyes turned yellow. You are kidnapped. It’s the end for you.

A sweet naive girl fell into the arms of a monster.

That’s it. Cut. Done.

You moved away from each other, and Michael took your hands.

“Great job, Y/N!” he said, and suddenly reached out for a hug.

You shyly buried your face into his shoulder, relaxed, and hugged him back.

“Yes. But how can I trust you now? You might drag me away again!” you joked, wanting to play with him.

Michael laughed, and you felt his voice vibrating in his chest next to you. Finally, he pulled away from you.

“No, I’m not like that. I’m a gentleman,” he said, his eyes following your face.

He didn’t move away from you. He was still interested in you.

“So there really are no thrillers?” Michael asked.

You both stood behind the counter. You decided to drink some water, and he leaned against it, standing beside you.

“There are. From Czechoslovakia. Or from Hungary,” you said, smiling. “But not as many as you have!”

“Then you absolutely have to see real horror!” Michael said.

“I already have!” you said, laughing and looking back, where the decorations were still standing and people were walking around in creepy costumes.

“But in real life it’s not that easy to scare me, Mike!” You said defiantly. You were much more thick-skinned.

“So, are we finally on a first-name basis?” Michael asked, smiling. “I like when you call me that.”

His face became warm, and for the first time you felt yourself blush simply because of him, not because of the script. You shrugged.

“I can call you that. You can call me Y/N too,” you said.

Michael reached out his hand and grabbed your small palm, once again noticing how soft it was. You as a whole were a little bundle of quiet femininity, and he loved it incredibly much.

“How long will you be in America?” Michael asked, and then added, his voice becoming quieter and softer. “Will we be able to go to the movie?”

You heard a little happiness appear inside you. It seemed that he really liked you.

It was great because Michael was charismatic, and you liked him too. You were interesting to each other as representatives of different cultures.

“We can,” you said, smiling warmly. “Until the end of the week,” you answered, remembering your schedule. “This will already be quite a big story. Maybe I’ll be able to come here again if there are offers.”

“You will definitely succeed. You’re very charismatic,” Michael said.

Inside, he couldn’t hide his excitement — because of the first part of your answer. He smiled shyly.

“If you're going to be here a little longer, then please leave me your number,” Michael said, and reached toward your face to move a strand of hair away from your eye. His gentle gesture made your heart stop.

You reached for a pen and wrote your number on his hand.

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—

hiding from rain🙂

it's raining for 5 days c mon

I didn't expect 'stranger in moscow' to blow up too (60+ likes already). Thank you, guys!

I honestly thought it was too niche of a story, but I guess the setting isn't what matters most. The story itself is. After all, we're all individuals here, not just our nationalities.

I've actually got another idea that's set in Europe, so it'll be a Michael x European Reader story. Trust me... this one's going to surprise you (glances at Eastern Europe👀) .

mindalii Masterlist.

Michael Jackson × Fem!Reader

Summary: Michael Jackson arrives in Moscow and, before his concert, visits a local hospital. While everyone rushes to greet him, he notices one young woman who stays beside her patient, seemingly paying no attention to his arrival. Unexpectedly, she ends up helping him translate.

Tags: love at first sight (but realistic), hospital setting, language barrier, fluff, mutual attraction, Michael being an absolute sweetheart, sunshine reader, reader accidentally steals Michael's heart, she doesn't fangirl and that's exactly why he notices her, softest meet cute ever, Michael gets treated like a normal person, no smut.

Michael's arrival in Moscow seemed to go off schedule from the very beginning.

As if on cue, heavy rain started pouring, and the weather stayed gray and gloomy. The only thing that lifted his spirits was knowing he was in a new city, ready to share his music with new people.

Even in the rain, Moscow was beautiful.

He walked around Red Square and signed autographs for several fans. Russia, it turned out, had just as many of them as any other country.

The concert wasn't until the evening, leaving Michael enough time to visit one of the city's hospitals. Supporting places like this had always been important to him, and somehow it always made him feel happier.

Very few people spoke English well, but Michael didn't really need words.

When he entered one of the hospital rooms, he asked his security guards to wait outside. Some patients and visitors had already gathered around him, amazed to see Michael Jackson standing there in person.

Michael walked over to the children and asked what illnesses they had.

They barely understood what he was saying, but they smiled shyly and reached out to play with his long hair.

Michael gently cuddled one little girl as she wrapped her arms around him, then tried talking to her.

"Hi! Do you understand me?" Michael asked, looking into her bright blue eyes.

The blonde girl smiled shyly before hiding her face behind her hands.

Michael chuckled.

You were sitting in the same room beside your patient.

Your grandmother had heart disease, and you were helping her recover after her condition had recently worsened.

You noticed someone entering the room but stayed where you were, continuing to feed your grandmother.

Then you realized Michael was trying to speak English with the child.

Trying not to laugh, you hurried over to help them. "Он говорит тебе привет!"("He says hi to you!"), you told the little girl.

The girl immediately smiled and uncovered her face after hearing you.

"Скажи ему 'Hello,'"("Say hello to him") you encouraged her.

"Hello!" the girl repeated in English.

At exactly the same moment, both you and Michael laughed.

He liked the way you interacted with the child, even though he understood almost nothing that had just been said.

"Thank you," Michael said. For what felt like the first time, he really looked at you.

His gaze drifted toward the chair beside your grandmother's bed, and somehow he understood everything without a single explanation.

His eyes softened when he saw you taking care of her.

A mysterious smile appeared on your lips. You suddenly came up with an idea. You absolutely had to impress him with your language skills.

"I just thought the two of you should be able to understand each other at a moment like this," you said in English with a gentle accent.

He stared at you as if you had suddenly started speaking Ancient Egyptian.

Embarrassed, you looked away and stared down at your hands and your red skirt.

Suddenly, you felt your cheeks heat up. You had to distract yourself with something. Your grandmother finished eating, and you set her plate aside.

"What does she have?" Michael suddenly asked, pointing at the little girl in his arms once again. By now, she had climbed into his lap. She definitely liked him.

You looked back at Michael.

The color slowly returned to your cheeks. You stood up and decided to walk over to him, feeling awkward just sitting there.

His eyes followed you the entire way, and suddenly you became painfully aware of his gaze tracing your figure.

You instantly regretted standing up.

"A neurological disorder," you said. Your expression darkened. "There are a lot of children like that here..."

"I will donate them money," Michael said.

The little girl had already started playing with his hat, and he simply let her.

Watching them together made you laugh. Small pink patches spread across your face.

"So..." he asked, lifting the little girl into his arms. "You don't know who I am?"

His eyes, however, had long since returned to you.

You couldn't understand why.

You were just an ordinary girl wearing an ordinary sweater, an ordinary skirt, and your hair tied back in a simple ponytail.

People sometimes told you there was something comforting about your energy. Some even called you "sunshine." But you doubted a man like Michael would notice something like that.

To him, you had to be just another ordinary girl.

"Pfft. Of course I do," you answered, your tone making it clear that was probably the silliest question he could have asked. "Michael Jackson."

You pulled out your phone and smiled to yourself, unable to stop grinning as you looked down.

"Do you see this very often?" Michael asked playfully, amused by your attitude—or maybe by your behavior in general.

Of course Michael was joking. You already knew he wasn't the type to take his celebrity status too seriously.

"Very rarely!" you admitted honestly. "But I really do know who you are. And I know your music," you added, deciding to tell him the truth.

It mattered to you that he knew he meant something to you.

"I just..." You glanced back toward your grandmother.

"I understand," Michael interrupted gently, raising a hand. "You're doing the right thing. I'm just another person, like everyone else. You didn't make an exception for me. And we still got to talk."

You nodded, a faint smile appearing on your face.

You knew exactly what he meant.

The other fans who had spotted him had followed him through the hospital and gathered outside.

You, on the other hand, had simply stayed beside your grandmother.

It just so happened that Michael had walked into your room.

"If anyone else needs something translated," you said, "feel free to ask."

You smiled awkwardly, wiped your hands against the rough fabric of your skirt and were already turning to head back to your grandmother.

Unexpectedly, Michael reached out and took your hand.

You stopped and looked back at him.

His hand held yours firmly.

Even though his coat was still damp from the rain, his touch felt warm.

"I do," Michael said.

His eyes stayed locked on yours, leaving you no opportunity to look away.

You only nodded a couple of times before tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

"Then let me finish helping my grandmother," you said with a smile. "And afterward I'll help you get through all this."

Once you had finished with your grandmother—and after Michael had spoken with several doctors with your help—you left the room together.

Michael walked beside you, and somehow you felt like his companion. Even if only in a professional or friendly sense, it still made you feel strangely flattered.

And he, it seemed, genuinely enjoyed having your company.

Your quiet, gentle energy drew him in, making him feel like your gentleman.

Even if only for a few minutes.

You had no idea then that, just before saying goodbye, Michael would tell you he wanted to write a song about your city.

For the music video, he said, he would need ordinary people as extras.

You smiled at the thought that you would get to see him again—that this wouldn't be the end of your story.

Michael asked for your phone number, and when he said goodbye, he did it so gently and warmly that you were certain of one thing:

He definitely wanted to be your friend.

Author's note. This story is loosely based on Michael's trip to Moscow in 1993. However, the city itself isn't that important—you can imagine your own hometown instead if you'd like (I choose Moscow because of the song). What mattered to me most was writing a story about what meeting Michael might have looked like for an ordinary girl, maybe even from another country.

ready to go to the gym and then write another mj imagine 😆

always have couple pics of michael

he makes me feel very warm in heart 😊