Series Summary: a collection of oneshots, blurbs, headcannons and my thoughts/asks of what vampire! Michael would be like with vampire!reader throughout the years!( This is a 18+ blog but I can't control who clicks on my stuff, just watch what you consume online!)
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a/n: This is leaning more towards sub!mike đ«°đŸthis deadass pretty much turned into a one shot but wtv
warnings: suggestive content, blood, biting, reader wants michael to bite them so bad, readers gender / genitalia is not talked about
wc: 523
vamp!michael who was scared to tell you about his transformation
vamp!michael who didnât want to feed from humans except for you so he resorted to rats and mice
vamp!michael who thought you would be terrified of him when he told you about his "curse", but was shocked when you told him how it made you love him even more.
vamp!michael who tried so hard not to look at your neck and the way your blood coursed through your veins whenever you guys were making out.
vamp!michael who would stay up and wait until he heard your heartbeat at a steady pace before leaving to go feed
vamp!michael who at first refused to drink form despite you constantly begging for him to. He claimed that he "didn't want to lose control" and "hurt his beloved".
vamp!michael who's fangs would come out every time you guys were making out. He especially loved when you would straddle him so he could kiss your neck and imagine just how amazing you would taste with his fangs in you
vamp!michael who constantly apologized for his fangs coming out and felt horrible for even thinking about you in that way even though you constantly reassured him that nothing was wrong with it
vamp!michael who had gone the whole day without feeding due to how busy he was. His body could no longer survive on rats due to the amount of singing and dancing he did. He needed more he needed you.
vamp!michael who was so embarrassed when you saw him in that state when he came home. He was desperate, needy, and drooling just from looking at you. He began to walk over to you with that tired look in his eyes and dropped to his knees begging to taste you.
vamp!michael who, as soon as you said yes began kissing up your legs, his fangs slightly grazing your inner thighs and stomach. When he finally got your neck he whispered in the most desperate tone "Please baby... may I? I need it.... I'll be good baby I promise"
vamp!michael who, when permitted by you, slowly sunk his fangs deep into your neck. Whimpers and soft whines escaped him. He was getting lost in your taste. How had he resisted this for so long? You tasted like everything he ever needed. He felt you tap his shoulder and stopped immediately. Worry took over his face and he was terrified that he had gone too far
vamp!michael who began apologizing profusely stating "I'm so sorry baby. Did I go too far? Was it too much? I am so sorry baby I won't ever do it again". You just simply look at him and smile with your tired eyes. You took a napkin and wiped the blood off of his mouth. God, he looked amazing when he was drunk off of your taste. You reassure him saying "I'm okay Mike I promise I love when you get lost in me" He smiles and embraces you tightly whispering "I love you's" over and over again into your neck.
how many companions have vamp!michael had? and would they ever try to come back?
VAMP!MICHAEL AND HIS PAST COMPANIONS
I have thought about this actually when I'm thinking of vamp!Mike.
I believe that I hinted here that Michael did have a companion before reader but it went entirely to the left.
Many vampires wanted to be Michael's companion because it would mean the ultimate status. They would practically be untouchable. Michael is a very lonely vampire and wants a companion that needs him just as must as he needs them and the people that have come forward were always faulty and insincere so he had just gotten used to being alone.
There was a period in time where Michael was just turning people and hoping that one of them survives the transformation. (None of them did.) He is not very proud of this era of his life because he inadvertently hurt people just to try and cure his own trauma. He doesn't like it when no one brings up how.... desperate he was to just have someone. Makes him feel weak.
But there has been 1 time where it almost worked out for him. They met, they grew their relationship, he turned her and it crashed and burned before it reached a year.
I wanna keep his first companion a mystery because at this particular moment she doesn't matter. But the past always has a way of coming back to bite you in the ass. Imma leave it at that. đ
FAIRY!MICHAEL AFTER YOU STEP INTO HIS RING.... đđ§đżââïž
Warnings: manipulation, fairy!Michael is a little shit, memory wiping, dub con???, mentions of lots of cum (I mean a lot.), cum play, I'm sorry did I forget to mention cum? Cuz if I didn't it.... There's a lot of cum mentions
đ·He had made his fairy ring ages ago. Waiting for just someone to walk and be his forever companion. People have heard about the tales of fairy rings. They are supertiscious enough to not step in them. It makes Michael sad.
đ·But then you come along! You didn't believe the stories and myths. You walked right in and poor! You were transported to a brighter, and softer version of the forest you were trust in.
đ·Michael hides behind a tree and watches you explore his forest. His nervous and shy at first but quickly warms up to you.
đ·You are instantly infatuated with him. There was something about his smile that just captivated you. Logic just leaves your mind everytime you see him . His wings are so pretty.
đ·He shows you the animals, the pretty lakes, his pretty cottage that resides in a tree. When you say that you never want to leave you miss how his eyes darken just a tad.
đ·He whines when you say you are too tired to dance. Even going as far as giving you the silent treatment and acting like you don't exist. Why won't you dance with him? His been so lonely. He purposefully makes himself cry when you say 'no' too much because he knows how much it makes you sad to see him cry.
đ·He purposefully brings you near the aphrodisiacs flowers in his garden. Letting you 'accidently' smell them and let your mind get crowded with lust and need. . If you weren't so horny you would think how coincidental it was that he was already naked and waiting for you.
đ·He grew those flowers himself so he knows exactly how long the effects can last. Michael is fucking you for days . In different positions, different places, clothes don't exist anymore. You forget your name. Why would you need it? All you need to know is how good your fairy is fucking you.
đ·and if he smells his flowers? Good luck. He doesn't stop. Even when you pass out he keeps going. Babbling nonsense with drool running down his face. He likes to put you in a mating press. It's his favorite position. He cries- no he full on sobs at the fill of your pussy clenching around him. He ravages you like a fucking animal. He fucks you when your sleep, fucks you when your awake,
đ·Fairy! Michael cums so much more than a human man. It's a never ending flow of cum going in you, on you around you. His cum tastes sweet like nectar. Sometimes when you are exhausted but still so horny he gives you a cup of his load for you to drink. You down it like water. (his cum has healing propertiesđ«Ł)
đ· to put the cherry on top his cum is addictive. If you aren't whining to be fucked you are whining just to have one little taste.
đ·When you finally come out of that spell you can't move. Your body is sore, your stomach is full, and Michael is behind you peppering sweaty skin with kisses whispering how you did so well for him.
đ·If y'all aren't dancing he is fucking you, and if you spend one minute doing nothing there he is beside you throwing a temper tantrum. You don't care about him! If you did you wouldn't be on the ground. You would be dancing with him all day and night.
đ·If someone else walks into his ring he makes them....disappear. You don't catch on, but you wonder where he is getting all these gifts from.
đ·Whenever you get too close to finding his ring to go back to your world he wipes your memory clean. He can't lose you, he just got you! You don't want to leave Michael all by himself do you?
đ· Afterwards he takes you far away from his ring and lets you wander his forest before he introduces himself again, asking for your name like you haven't told him many times before. Bringing you back to his home introducing to your room again
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But let it have been a (actual) black writer doing some bullshit in this tag. I betcha no one would've been hell bent on defending them or refusing to hold them accountable now, would they?
WHO SAID THAAAT(I did.)
"don't make it about race!" STOP BRINGING BLACK PEOPLE AND OUR SHIT IN STUFF AND WE WON'T!!!! God, is it really that fucking hard to be a decent human being with a functioning brain?
summary: you're a curious scholar who desires information about the vampire outside of town. who would've thought it would've led to something like this?
content: MDNI, smut, vampiric themes, lonely vampire trope (i know), blood drinking, intimate porn w/ plot, oral (f!receiving), pinning, very very gothic environment but i love it
w/c: 3.1k
taglist | requested | masterlist
The rain tapped a steady rhythm against your bedroom window, a comforting pitter-patter as you continued another night of research.
Your desk was littered with open books, their pages filled with detailed illustrations of fangs and accounts of nocturnal beings. A half-finished cup of tea sat cooling next to a notebook filled with your own gruesome imagined theories and illustrations.
But this particular book you were reading â borrowed from the dusty back shelves of the town's tiny library â spoke of a being not just from myth, but one that supposedly resided just outside town.
The book called him "The Lord of Blackwood", a vampire of immense age and power, who had withdrawn from the world centuries ago. The description was vague, but it mentioned something about eyes that held the weight of eternity.
So, you decided to test the waters the next morning. Approaching an old woman who ran an antique shop, her knowledge of the town's history was as vast as you could dream of. You walked into the shop under the guise of 'shopping'.
She looks up from polishing a silver locket. "Can I help you, dear?"
"I was wondering if you knew anything about Blackwood Manor just outside of town? The history seems so fascinating."
Her friendly demeanor vanishes instantly, putting down the locket so sharply you were afraid she might've broken it.
"We don't ask questions like that here."
Over the next week, you ask others â the postman, the baker, the farmer on the edge of town â and their answers were always the same. A nervous glance, a hurried change of subject with intelligible mumbling, or a warning not to speak his name here.
But of course, you didn't listen. They knew you wouldn't. They even started planning a funeral in your name without your knowledge.
You decided to pack a small bag that weekend, full of a change of clothes, a lantern, a notebook, and some fruit. You take the old path leading out of town, the dirt road almost completely covered by long-term abandonment. The woods are dense and quiet, the canopy thick enough to block out most of the moonlight, and the air grows colder.
After an hour of aching steps, you push aside a final, low-hanging branch. And there it stood before you. A monolith of dark stone against the dark blue sky, all sharp angles and towering spires. It wasn't as ominous and scary-looking as you thought.
No light shone against the windows, and the path to the front door was overgrown with thorny vines that snagged your clothes as you pushed forward. The massive, iron-branded door looked like it hadn't been opened in forever.
You take a deep breath and raise your hand, your knuckles hesitating for just a second before connecting to the metal. The knock echoed into the silence behind the door, and for a long moment, there was nothing. You hoped you didn't walk all this way for nothing.
But then the door groaned inward on its own, the sound a deep, weary sigh. It hadn't been locked. You then pushed with all your might, the heavy door moving inch by agonizing inch until there was just enough space for you to slip through.
The air inside was still and cold, carrying the scent of old dust, dried herbs, and something metallic, maybe blood or iron.
The grand foyer was vast, and the moonlight from the open door sliced through the darkness. It fell across portraits in gilded frames â faces from centuries past; their eyes seemed to follow you as you descended into the castle. Your lantern aids your vision, glinting off a suit of armor as you pass by, a marble statue, then a collection of ancient-looking urns.
"Hello? I'm looking for the one they call... Michael?"
Your voice doesn't echo, but is swallowed by the immense silence. You take another few cautious steps forward, your heart beating loudly in your eardrums.
A shadow detached itself from the deeper darkness near the grand staircase. It was tall, impossibly so, and moved with a silence that was more unnerving than any kind of footstep. His voice is smooth as velvet, yet cold as it suddenly spoke from behind you. "You have a great deal of nerve coming here. Or a death wish. Which is it?"
You spin around quickly, the fire in your lantern highlighting his features, sharp and pale. You nearly drop the damn thing. "I was looking for youâ"
"Why?" His voice sounded more like an order than a question as he took a step closer. You felt your blood run cold, and your voice trembled slightly.
"Because... the books. The stories. They couldn't all be wrong. I had to see for myself."
A faint, cold smile touches his lips. "See what? If the monster under the bed is real? You risk your life for a child's curiosity."
"Not exactly from a child's curiosity, but a scholar's. I've studied your kind, and I believe there's more to you than the stories of monsters."
He lets out a soft, humorless laugh that doesn't reach his eyes; his voice is full of mockery. "A scholar. How quaint. And what do your 'studies' tell you I am?" He circles you slowly, and the air grows colder with his proximity. He smelled faintly of wine and old wood, acquainted by faint ash.
You swallow hard as you try to keep your head upright, keeping eye contact as he passes by. "They tell me you value truth, given your own collections and studies. I thought maybe you'd appreciate someone who actually wants to learn, rather than just scream and run at the sight of you."
He stops his circling, now standing directly in front of you. "Appreciate? You think I crave the company of morals?"
"No, but I'd assume a life without interaction would be rather lonely." You try to shrug and laugh, but he continues to stare at you with an unreadable expression. Only continuing the conversation when you fixed your face. He reaches out to touch you, but gently taps at the cover of the notebook sticking out of your bag.
"Your book is full of little fairytales."
You lift your chin, "It's not a book of fairytales. It's full of records with history you left behind. I know you're not the mindless beasts people make you out to be."
"You think you can trace all my steps through history?"
"No, but I could with your firsthand account."
He turns and walks toward the grand staircase, his back to you. "Firsthand account?" He glances over his shoulder. "You want an interview with a vampire?" (haha get it?)
You stay in the same spot, but your voice elevates slightly. "I told you. I'm a scholar. I want to understand."
He turns around and moves back towards you. A slight, genuine smile â the first one you've seen â curves his lips. He stops an arm's length away, his head tilted. "Understanding is a dangerous thing to seek from you. Knowledge has a price."
"I'm willing to pay it."
The weeks turned into months, and your visits to Blackwood Manor became a nightly ritual. The intimidating foyer soon felt familiar, the shadows less threatening, and they were now clean from age and dust, thanks to you.
Michael's library became your home. Floor-to-ceiling shelves held books you were sure existed in places you couldn't bear to think of, and he would watch you â sometimes for hours â as you pored over ancient texts you could barely read yet.
He leaned against the bookshelf, using his nail to pick the human flesh from his teeth, clothes still slightly blood-stained from his hunting. But he did clean up the best that he could, out of respect for you. He didn't want to scare you away just yet.
"Your fascination with the Venetian plague is... odd."
"It's all the eyewitness accounts." You mutter, not looking up from the fragile pages. "I mean, you lived through it. What was it really like?"
"Messy. You humans are so terribly fragile."
"You were a human once. Weren't you?" The silence that followed your question was deafening, aside from the soft crackle of the grand fireplace.
He pushed off the bookshelf, his movements slower than usual.
He walked to the fireplace, staring into the flames before resting his back against the stone. "Yes. I was. A very, very long time ago." He paused for a moment, as if it was difficult to remember how life was before his transformation.
You closed the book fully in your lap, giving him your full attention. "Do you miss it?"
He lets out a short, sharp breath, almost a laugh. "The sickness, the fragility, the inevitable decay? No."
He pauses, his gaze how at the expensive rug beneath him. "But.. I do miss the sun. Cherishing the days well-lived. I used to get the best sleep.
And I do miss the family I had."
He pushed away from the mantle, turning to face you fully, but the vulnerability in his voice was now gone. "But don't romanticize it. What I am now," he gestures vaguely around the vast library. "This is freedom. Of a sort."
You stand up, taking a tentative step toward him. "Sounds lonely."
His eyes narrow, but there's no real anger to them. "Lonely is a human concept. I would say that we're patient."
"You've been patient for centuries. That's a long time to be alone."
"Who said I was alone?"
You give him a knowing look, your arms crossing over your chest, and he chuckles. "You ask a lot of questions under the ruse of a 'scholar'."
"You keep inviting me back. So you must not mind them too much."
A slow smile finally touches his lips. "I don't." He glances toward the tall library windows. "It's nearly dawn. You should stay. The spare room is yours, as always."
He turns and walks toward the door, his cape whispering against the cold stone floor. He pauses at the threshold for a moment, bidding you goodnight before the heavy door clicks shut.
The next few nights progressed this way. Your conversations linger later, the topics drifting from history to philosophy, and then to the small absurd details of your moral life that seem to fascinate him somehow.
Tonight, you find him not in the library, but in a solarium you'd never noticed before, full of meticulously preserved plants that should've died a long time ago. You never thought of him as having a green thumb. "A habit from another life," he says. Some routines were harder to shed than others, but it didn't make him any less admirable. You reach out to touch one of the leaves he was catering to, your fingers brushing against his as your thumb traces over the petal.
He doesn't pull his hand away; instead, he turns his hand, his cool fingers lightly tracing the line of your wrist. "Your pulse is fast. Even after all these months, are you still afraid of me?"
"No. Not afraid."
"Then what is it?"
His dark eyes hold yours, and you could feel your breath catch. You couldn't find the words to describe how you felt. Let alone a vampire. But you knew that wasn't how you saw him anymore. He wasn't dangerous, nor a monster. He's gentle, kind, more than any human could be.
He leans closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. "I can hear it, you know. The shift in your heartbeat."
"Does it bother you, Michael?"
The space between you vanishes, and he closes the distance, his lips meeting yours in a kiss that's so soft, it almost feels airy. His lips were curious against yours, a taste so sweet, you could easily fall addicted to the drug of him.
His hand comes up to cradle your jaw, his thumb stroking your cheek with a tenderness that contradicts his cold skin. His breath ghosts against your lips before deepening the kiss. His other hand slides to the small of your back, pressing you flush against the unyielding coolness of his body, which never seemed to warm against yours. He didn't mind your warmth, though. You felt like sunshine against his skin, inviting him with want and endless curiosity.
In a fluid motion, he lifts you into his arms, and the castle blurs for a moment as he carries you from the solarium through the corridors.
He lays you down upon the vast expanse of his bed, the black silk sheets slippery beneath you as they ground you from your slight dizziness. The room is lit only by the faint glow of moonlight filtering through the floor-to-ceiling windows on the left side of his bedroom.
He kneels over, caging you in, his dark eyes burning with undeniable hunger and desire. A look both thrilling and terrifying.
"Are you sure you want this with me? Truly."
You reach up, your fingers tracing over the sharp line of his jaw, tucking stray strands of hair behind his ear. "I've never wanted anything more."
A low groan rumbles in his chest as he lowers himself to kiss you again, peppering soft kisses downward as his lips find the sensitive skin of your neck. His breath catches as he sucks on the dip of your collarbone. A soft moan escapes you as his mouth finds a sensitive spot against your sternum, your back arching off the silk sheets.
He pulls back slightly, his breathing unsteady â something you thought was impossible with him. And you could feel the tension coiled in his body. His fangs, which you've only seen in glimpses, are a subtle pressure against the skin of your stomach as he kisses his way lower.
His hands slide up your thighs, pushing the simple fabric of your dress higher, exposing you to the room's chilling air. He moves down your body with a reverence that steals your breath more than you thought. His lips brush against the inside of your thigh as your fingers tangle in the smooth sheets.
It seems like forever before his tongue dances on the fabric over your clit, clear with intention as you feel his fingers hesitantly pulling against the waistband over your panties.
You become breathless, your hips lifting in silent invitation. "Michael, you're teasing. Please."
He hooks his fingers into the waistband of your panties and slowly, deliberately, slides them down your legs. The air feels sharp against your core, now soaked with arousal. He lowers his head again, his tongue tracing wet circles against your slit. The sensation was almost too much. You could feel his teeth as he suckled and kissed on your bundle of nerves, and his cold breath ghosts over you, making you shudder slightly.
You cry out as his slender tongue slowly fucks your entrance, tasting you with the focus of a connoisseur, each thrust and flick and kiss a slow, aching torture. A string of pleas falls from your lips as he groans against you, the vibration sending shockwaves of pleasure through you.
His fingers join his mouth, a finger sliding inside you in a way that brings spots to your vision, the dual sensation overwhelming the heat building in your stomach. He looks up to watch your sweet reactions, his eyes glowing faintly in the dark. "Is this what you thought would happen when you knocked on my door, scholar? To come apart on my tongue? Is this what you wanted?"
You can only manage a frantic nod, your hands fisting in his dark hair. "D-Don't stop."
His pace quickens, his tongue circling your clit relentlessly while his fingers curl inside you. Your orgasm washes over you unbearably fast, and you feel his fangs brush against your inner thigh, a sharp threat amidst the bliss. Your vision grows white, and your body trembles uncontrollably against the silk.
He gentles his movements, drawing out the last shudders of your release with a soft, lingering kiss over the same spot as your inner thigh.
He moves back up your body and hovers above you, his gaze dark as he brushes a damp curl from your forehead. His touch is tender as he kisses you, the taste of your orgasm still fresh on his tongue. His bulge presses against your thigh, so undeniably hard and prominent, even through his trousers.
You reach between you, your fingers fumbling with the fastenings of his pants.
He guides himself to your entrance once you free him, the tip of his dick a slick, hot pressure against you. You wrap your legs around his hips, pulling him closer, deeper as his slow thrust steals the air from your lungs. He stills, buried deep inside you, his forehead pressed against yours. You couldn't contain the small pants falling from your lips; it felt like he was splitting you open, and he hadn't even moved yet.
He begins to move, each thrust a rolling movement that pulls your mouth agape, a silent scream as he kisses your cervix. His lips find your neck again, his tongue tracing the frantic pulse there. "You smell so sweet. Practically screaming for me, sweetheart."
You tilt your head back, baring your throat to him in absolute surrender, and it seemed like all of his control frayed at the edges, deteriorating with every moan against his ear.
Then a sharp, sudden pain of his fangs piercing your skin is eclipsed instantly by a wave of euphoria. It became a pleasure so intense it borders on pain, a dizzying rush that syncs perfectly with the fast rhythm of his hips. His mouth is sealed against your throat, a low, continuous moan vibrating through you as he drinks you in.
Your body instinctively jerks against him, your hands flying to his abdomen, but he captures your wrists, pinning them to your chest as he fucks you senseless.
"It's okay, sweetheart. Just relax and take what I give you."
The dual sensations of the intimate fullness of his dick moving within yours and the deep, pulling ecstasy of the bite bring you to your orgasm simultaneously. It is a silent, yet hot convulsion of pleasure, lasting longer than usual as he follows closely behind you.
He holds you there for a moment, his body draped over yours before letting your wrists go, lapping gently at the small wounds on your neck. You drift into an exhausted sleep as you wrap your arms around him, the taste of metal and dizziness on your tongue.
You wake to the soft kisses on your cheek, the curtains now closed as they concealed the grey light of pre-dawn light filtering slightly at the edges. His voice is a low murmur next to your ear, his arm a heavy weight across your waist. "Good morning. Or what passes for morning here."
"Did I pass out?"
A soft chuckle rumbles through his chest. "You did. I may have done too much."
You shift slightly, feeling a pleasant ache in your muscles and the faint mark on your neck. "It's okay. I don't mind. It's the price I'm willing to pay."
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Would you be open to a request for vamp!michael hosting a vampire version of a debutante/introduction to vamp society party for his new fledgling. Feels like something he would do and be over the top in planning. And his spoiled baby would love bc itâs a reason to get dolled up,interact with new people and cling to him all night.
He could introduce her to all the prominent people in vamp society like vamp!jackson 5 while also warning her of which ones to be wary of like vamp!prince.
Maybe end with a dance between sire and fledgling, with a hint of romance if thatâs the vibe between them.
THE BALL OF THE CENTURY
vamp! Michael Jackson x fledgling!black!reader
vamp!Michael collection!
Summary: after your transformation Michael throws you a ball in celebration of your new life. You meet new faces, some good and some ...not so good.
Warnings: social anxiety, mini d***a r*** cameo Prince low-key mean in this, fluff, Michael just adoring the hell out of you, cute vampire shit, protective Michael, brief murder, NOT proofread in the slightest. There is definitely plot gaps.
A/n: Ouuu yesss I love this so much! This is something he would most definitely do.
wc:2.4k
âA ball?â You frowned. âFor what?â
You were in your room reading a book when Michael came bursting into your room with his hardly contained excitement. Although the smile on his face was bright, you had an unsettling feeling in your chest.Â
And now here he was rambling on about some ball.
âFor you, my darling,â Michael smiles. â A celebration for your new life! It is customary for a sire to properly introduce his fledgling to our society. â He flared his arms. âMy family will most certainly want to meet you. Latoya has been bugging me for so long to let her see you.â He plops on the bed, making you bounce a little.Â
âSoâŠother people like us would be there?â You asked. You had seen nomads in passing, and even then, you stuck beside Michael until they were gone. MichaelÂ
âYes,â He confirmed his eyes meeting yours. âDoes that frightend you?â Â
Now you wouldnât say frightened. More so nervous. You haven't been around any other vampire besides Michael. You know about them of course. Michael would tell you about them from time to time.Â
But you know that all vampires arenât like him.Â
âNo..â You say. âIt just makes me nervous I guess.âÂ
He gives you an understanding look.Â
âI understand, darling. Quite well actually.â He smiles. âI donât do people myself.âÂ
âReally?â You gaped âBut youâreâŠyou.â He raised an eyebrow at your words.Â
âIâm me?âÂ
âYou know what I meant, Michael.âÂ
âI donât think I do.âÂ
You grab a pillow and hit him with out. He laughs.Â
 He leans an elbow on your bed, taking your free hand in his grasp.Â
âWe donât have to do this if you donât want to. Just say the words. âÂ
âNo! No.. I wanna do it. â You answer. âIâve actually never gone to a ball before. It sounds interesting.âÂ
âJust âinterestingâ?âÂ
â....okay, it sounds pretty exciting.â You admitted.Â
His thumb grazes over yours.Â
â You will be right by my side the entire night. Nothing will happen to you, alright?âÂ
âAlright.â You sheepishly said. Seeing how Michaelâs face lit up with happiness. He kisses your forehead.
âWonderful! Oh, I must get decorations, invitations must be sent, the catering- oh, I have so much to do. BILL-âÂ
You giggle at Michael's ecstatic behaviour. His words gave you some comfort, but your nerves were still on edge. How many were going to be there? Will his family like you? What if they didnât like you?Â
You helped Michael with the invitations. Signing your name alongside his. Putting up decorations( which let you practice your flying ability), he took you shopping for not only a new dress but an entire new wardrobe. But in the end, that was a disaster.
You stood on the platform. Looking for Michaelâs approval for the dress you have on. You had tried on countless of them. Each one feels the same. But Michael was so endearingly annoying because he pointed out everything that wasn't the same.Â
âHm.â Michael tilted his head. âI don't like this one. It dulls your eyes.â He tsks disapprovingly. â You said that about the last one. â You saidÂ
âAnd I will talk about this one as well.â He sassed. Â
âMikey, this is the 6th dress I've tried on.â You whined. âCan we go? I am getting hungry.â
âOh, hush now, darling, and go try this on.â He puts the dress in your arms and gives you a look. âRun along now. Let's see if this one will work, â he goes back to sit on the couch with his expensive cane that he âneedsâ because he is just âso oldâ
You glared at him before turning back into the dressing room. Mumbling under your breath about stupid, dumb dresses and wanting to go home.
Later on, Michael left to look at the jewellery section. He was gone for maybe 5 minutes when a scream erupted from the dressing room.Â
He sped over and found you draining a shopper. Her body twitched, and her eyes stared wide.Â
âY/n!â You flinched at his volume. Dropping the shopperâs body to the ground. MichaelÂ
âWhat? I told you I was hungry.âÂ
After the⊠incident at the dress shop, Michael had settled for a seamstress( he supervised so you wouldnât eat her) who personally designed and made your dress. Taking your measurements and preferences like her life depended on it. (It most likely did.)Â
If there was an inch of dislikement on your face, he would make her start over. You like the colour? He will send for more fabric, and you will get to pick. Was the dress too long or too short? Itâs getting fixed before you could even blink.Â
You were so used to masking your comfort. It was a skill from your mortal life that you had mastered to a tea. But Michael knew all of your faces. Your happy face, your sad face, your pouty face..
The face you make when you are saying you like something, so you can please everyone.Â
He says something before you can. Making the seamstress redo whatever had pleased you. He wonât let you lie. Not under his watch. Your dress was going to be made how you want it to be.Â
After much trial and error, your dream dress was made.Â
And for the first time in a long time, you feltâŠ.
Beautiful.Â
You looked at it in the mirror. Feeling the fabric, twisting and turning to see its flow. The biggest smile was plastered on your face. It was perfect. Â
You make eye contact with Michael through the glass.Â
To him, this was his purpose. To protect you, to love you, to cherish you.Â
To make you happy.Â
***
The big day had finally arrived.Â
Servants gathered around you and helped you prepare for your ball. You didnât need their help, but Michael insisted.Â
Your hair was done in your favourite hairstyle. Draped in jewellery you hand-picked (and Michael bought.)
You can hear all the guests in the ballroom chattering about things you couldnât decipher. The scents of multiple vampires under one roof clashed with your new senses. Some smelled sweet, others bitter, and some smelledâŠrotten, almost.Â
When you leave your room, Michael is already at the bottom of the staircase waiting for you.Â
He wore a fabulous suit. The design and colouring match your own dress. Holding a fancy cane that was just for show. His hair was half up, half down. Coming down in little waves.Â
He looked gorgeous. Breathtaking.Â
He was talking to Bill when he noticed your approach. Stopping in the middle of his sentence to look at you.Â
You blushed when he looked at you from head to toe.
Wordlessly he offers his elbow, eyes still burning into your frame. He guides the both of you to the main entrance. The only thing seperating you from the hundreds of people awaiting to see you.Â
âYou look beautiful, darlingâ He whispered his breath making your ear tingle. Â
The doors opened. The chatting stopped. All eyes were on you two.Â
Michael says a brief introduction. One that you didnât hear. You were too focused on the faces in the crowd. Some didnât believe that you existed, others looked happy.Â
You two walked around the room. Michael meets friends he has not seen in centuries. With you clinging onto his arm, your cheek pressed against his arm. You were so thankful that your heart couldn't beat anymore. It would have been beating like drums. Crowds like this always made you anxious.Â
Whenever your anxiety peeked Michael would gently press a kiss in your hair. Wordlessly saying that he was right there and he wasnât going anywhere.Â
You meet vampires like Quincy, Brooke, Ola, Diana (who you almost hissed at), and countless others who were prominent figures in Michaelâs life.Â
There were only a select few you hadn't met: his family.Â
He had kept you hidden from the vampire world. Fearing for your safety. Your transformation changed nothing. That included his own kin. He never fully explained his paranoia to you. Just said that the vampire world was not like the one you had lived in.Â
You know that one of his sisters was just dying(pun intended) to meet you.Â
Then you see them. The Jacksons.Â
They radiated power and wealth. One of the best-dressed vampires at the ball.
You hold onto Michaelâs arm tighter. A grip that would have broken his bones if he were mortal. These were the people who mattered the most. If they didnât like you, then what happens?
The family stopped talking at your approach.Â
âEveryone, this is-â
âY/n!â A woman bounded over to you excitedly.Â
âJanet,â Michael sighed, pulling you back from her grasp. âDo not crowd her.âÂ
âOh, I am not doing anything, you big baby.â She huffed. âGod, you're such a mother, Mike.â
âI am not-ââ
âYeah, yeah, yeah, whatever,â She interrupted. âYou have had her basically underneath your skin; let her meet the rest of the family. â
âThat is what I came over to do, brat.â Michaelâs nose flared.Â
Your eyes looked from Janet and back to Michael. It didnât take you long to figure out that they are siblings.Â
âMay I hug you?â She asked. You couldnât say no even if you wanted to. She introduces you to the rest of the family. The sisters, brothers, wives and husbands all greeted you with open arms.Â
While Michael talks to his brothers, his sisters crowd around you, asking about your life before, how you met Michael. At the beginning, you were tense, not knowing what to expect from them, but as time passed, the conversation flew like a riverâs current.
But they treated you like family.Â
In the middle of Latoya telling a story, you begin to feel weird.Â
Like someone is watching you.Â
Your eyes trace over the crowd, trying to find the source of the burning gaze. You almost didnât find it.Â
When you did, you froze.Â
From across the ballroom, a man stood by himself. Staring directly at you with a smile that wasnât nice. The way he stared at you rubbed your gut the wrong way.Â
He looked you up and down. Like you were someâŠmeal.
Michael was a few steps away, talking to one of his brothers, but he felt so much further with the man across the hall looking upon you like⊠that.Â
Before you could alert Michael, he was already by your side. Having sensed your discomfort through the bond.Â
âY/n? What is wrong?â Michael felt the change in your body. How tense and timid you became. He followed where your eyes were, his eyes that looked upon you delicately turned dark and malicious.
And his chest rumbled with a deep growl. You had never heard a sound like that from him before. He stood in front of you, blocking your view of the man from across the ballroom.Â
âWhat is he doing here?â The words left Michael in a hiss.
His brothers flank to his side, following his train of sight.Â
â How did he get in?â Michael asks no one in particular.
You lean to peak over Michaelâs broad form. The man wasnât looking at you anymore. He was looking straight at Michael. Smirking like all of this was some game.Â
He was toying with him.Â
âI donât know, man.â Jackie finally responds. âMaybe he was a plus one or something.âÂ
âWell, I donât care about whatever he was. Someone remove him before I do.â Michael sneered.Â
âBrother, calm yourself. You are frightening your fledgling.â Tito pointed out. â Prince just wants to start problems like he always does. Do not let him bait you. That is exactly what he wants.âÂ
âYeah, man.â Marlon butted in. âThis party is about you and y/n. Not him. Kick him out and quarrel later.âÂ
For a long time, Michael stood still. Too still. He didnât breathe. Didnât move. Not even a single piece of his hair moved. It was unnerving to look at.Â
From your places beside, Janet and Rebbie, you noticed something.Â
All of Michaelâs brothers were crowded around him.Â
They stood near not to protect Michael.Â
But to hold him back if necessary.Â
It was then that you realised you didnât understand the sheer power that Michael bore, and you probably never will.Â
âRemove him. If he causes any commotion. Inform me,â He said with a smile. But not the one he always gave you. This was all teeth but no lips. A predatory smile at best.Â
Michael walks towards you. The tension in his shoulders was still prominentÂ
âWho is he?â You asked. Watching Jermaine and Bill walk over to Prince.Â
âHe is nobody to concern yourself with, sweetheart.â Michael smooths your hair. Nothing was out of place. You reckon he was doing this to settle his nerves. It was one of the habits he had grown since you two met. Sometimes to soothe you, sometimes to soothe himself, or both.
You look back at the place Prince once stood. Curiosity running through your veins.Â
Who was he? Why did Michael despise him?
The endless question stayed put in the back of your mind. The party continues like nothing happened. You meet more people whose names you were going to forget. Drank blood wine that wasnât as good as thought it would be.Â
Michael did a dramatic bow and held out his hand.Â
âMay I?â You giggle, grabbing his hand, letting him guide you to the centre of the room.Â
Soon, others had joined with their partners, but in the sea of all of them, it was just you and Michael. Fast music played, then slow, and at some point a opera singer took the stage.Â
The party was magical.Â
That night, you lay in Michaelâs coffin. Fleshed up against his body. Your sire was asleep, but even then, he absently rubbed your shoulder like a second habit. It was soothing, but it did not lull you into a sleep like it usually does.
You lay awake, your mind racing with the memories of the night.Â
Meeting his family, the dance, the endless hours of music that had your feet pulsing.Â
Seeing Prince- or more accurately, Prince seeing you.Â
Something about the vampire made you uneasy. Scared even. He hadnât even said a word to you. Just gave you a look that matched an inhuman smile that wore on his face. For some reason, you canât get his face out of your mind.Â
He was gone, miles away from you and Michael.Â
But have a feeling that this wonât be the last time you will see him.Â
At that thought, you hold onto Michael just a tad bit tighter.
Your vampire michael x reader au is so cute omg!! I love the sire and fledgling dynamic they haveâŠplease Iâm so curious about their relationship, i need more of them!!
Im so glad the MJ community on here likes Vamp! Michael. Eventually I will get into some backstories and other headcannons in the future so stay tuned.
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Am i going to get gunned down in this fandom if I state my opinion on something? đ
It's hard writing for Michael when you got people left and right telling you that it is disgusting to be writing for him. I'm fairly new to writing for him, so I that this fandom/ community on here was toxic but I didnt really think it was this bad. I always knew that writing for a real person(who is deceased, toxic, or just downright problematic) has different responses than that of a fictional character writing.
Idk I just went with the 'if you don't like it then don't read it ' moto no matter for fictional or real. I think anyone who writes for a celebrity(not just Michael) has the collective that we know that this is not how the person acts or acted. It's just fanfiction. Silly little things from our imaginations. I just think that with celebrity fanfics you just gotta be more careful cuz one thing can just really twist the whole narrative and BOOM. You're burned at the stake.
Would it be crazy for me to stay that fanfiction is subjective and you don't gotta like every subject given? No?....yeah?....
I'm so happy that you love vamp! Michael! It's a CRIME that there isn't enough of that on Tumblr. Don't worry, more will arrive shortly! I'm currently working on another ask that I should be finished with by tonight and I'm very excited about that since its just so adorable.
Me seeing everyone loving Vamp! Michael like I do:
