#bad era

Pairing: Michael Jackson x fem!reader

Tags: smut, dom!michael, sub!reader, freaky!mike(in other news, grass is green), big dick!mike, creampies, size kink, light exhibitionism, praise kink, spit kink, nipple play, temperature play, pussy eating, blowjobs, possessiveness, hes a gentleman at heart though, etc.

Word Count: 1.1k

Requested: yes/no

Author’s Note: Posting this quickly after the last one as an apology for being gone for months.

Links: navigation | masterlist | taglist

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ᴡᴇ ᴀʀᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ, '85

Michael Jackson x Reader

Synopsis: Michael loves to call reader while he's away on tour and spill the tea on all the drama backstage Content: Michael swearing, drama queen, established relationship Era: Any W.C. .8 k

Masterlist

Michael calls you all the time when he's on tour. All. The. Time. Not that you have any issue with it of course. But it does occasionally wake you up from a deep sleep just to tell you what's going on between two of his back up dancers. Despite this, you live for the drama and always end up getting way too invested.

2:30 AM and the phone by your bed rang loudly. You groaned and rolled over, holding it to your ear.

"Michael, this better be good, it's so late here." Your voice slurs together from exhaustion.

"I know I know! I'm sorry... but I got more information about Becky, Trina, and Laurence." His voice brimmed with excitement.

You sat up immediately, switching on your lamp.

bad era!michael jackson x journalist!reader

summary: michael jackson has a surprisingly good time being interviewed, maybe it has something to do with the cute interviewer wink wink 1/2

a/n: thanks for all the love on my other ff!! hope you enjoy this one, i’m feeding a large family here… xxx

part 2

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The burgundy Mercedes crawled down the busy streets of Los Angeles, the traffic particularly bad at this time of day. Michael was on the way to another interview, marking this as the tenth interview this week alone. His head tipped back against the leather seats as he watched people pass by the heavily tinted car window, unaware that the biggest global pop star was watching them as they went about their day.

The cars thankfully began to move, allowing his car to finally round the corner towards the studio. A large brick building with large windows scattered around the top floors, an old, paint chipped gate opening up as the security gave his name.

As the car pulled to a stop, Bill, in the drivers seat turned around to face Michael briefly,

"You ready, Mike?"

Nodding faintly with a heavy sigh, the security crossed to his side of the car, pulling the door open and guiding him quickly into the building in order to avoid the screaming from outsiders and most importantly, to avoid the nosy tabloids.

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Michael stepped out of the elevator, a bodyguard on both sides of him. He looked around, quickly realising that this wasn't the usual interview set up. No bright white studio lights or white backdrop, just the warm sunlight streaming through the floor to ceiling windows onto two green armchairs, a dark oak coffee table in the middle, creating a cozy ambience.

"Mr Michael Jackson! How lovely to meet you", an older man walked steadily towards him, a large friendly smile on his face.

He held his hand out to shake Michael's. He stared briefly in surprise before sliding his hand into the embrace, a firm shake before the older gentleman patted the top of his hand.

"It's lovely to meet you too, Mr..." he trailed off, realising he never got his name.

"Ah, how silly of me! I'm Bobby Stuart, manager of Miss Y/N. She asked me to pass on her apologies as she has been held back by a job that was supposed to be done much earlier than it was... but anyway! shes on her way now, not to fret!" he gushed quickly, before releasing his hand from his grip.

"It's okay, Mr Stuart. Erm, would you like me to go and sit down, ready for the interview?" Michael giggled nervously, his hands rubbing together with nerves.

He wasn't going to admit it, but he was actually in a way relieved that she was running late. This meant that he had more time to mentally prepare for the draining questions they would ask. Maybe they'd ask about his private life, or if he's dating anyone, or if the absurd and sickening things they say in the tabloids are true.

As he sat on the velvet chair, the sunlight warmed his hands and his legs under his black trousers. Michael watched his manager, Frank DiLeo, run around the studio, quickly going over the contract and any concerns he had about the interview. The light chime of the elevator rang through the floor, followed by the rhythmic sound of high heels clicking on the floor.

"Sorry I'm late! Gosh, the traffic usually isn't too busy at this time." you said exasperated.

The black Chanel bag you were carrying dropped on the table, the clank of the chain hitting the wood catching peoples attention through their chatter, before turning and walking towards your manager.

"Hi Mr Stuart, sorry for my tardiness." you whispered sheepishly, taking your notes from him before turning to Frank.

"It's... Mr DiLeo, isn't it" you said before sticking your perfectly manicured hand out for a handshake.

"It is, lovely to meet you", he said with a growing smirk, before lifting your hand to his lips, placing a big smooch on your knuckles.

A look of surprise crossed your face before you smiled slightly, turning on your heel towards Michael whilst wiping the back of your hand on your black pinstripe suit pants. A large smile growing along your face as you made eye contact with him, nearing closer.

"Hi Mr Jackson, I'm Y/N, the person interviewing you today, obviously" you giggled.

"H-Hi", heat beginning to crawl up his neck, "It's nice to meet you".

He ignored the hand you had stuck out towards him, standing up and wrapping you in a quick embrace, not only shocking you but also shocking himself at his sudden forwardness.

You parted from him, quickly moving backwards, sitting yourself onto the chair. Fixing your hair and grabbing the lipgloss the stylist had passed to you, reapplying the shimmer onto your lips.

"Would you like anything, Michael? Like water, tea, coffee, juice?"

His thoughts stopped, his name from your mouth, wow. He'd decided that you were the best person at saying his name.

"Erm, do you have any orange juice? If not, water is fine! Really I'm not fussy" he rubbed the back of his neck before moving his hand to the front of his face, parting the dark curls to the side of his face more.

A glass of orange juice was placed on the dark oak table in front of him by an assistant, all of the staff began to move quickly to their places. A man with a headset picking up the large boom microphone to hold above their heads, and the man behind the large camera tilted it to get both of them in the shot.

"Before we start filming, I just want to remind you that if theres anything you don't want to include, we can always cut it out, just let me know, okay?" You whispered with a small smile, as he nodded with a grateful look.

"Quiet on set! Five, four, three, two, one, and rolling!"

The questions began.

"So, Michael, obviously you have just released your Bad album, congratulations by the way," you said.

"Thank you" he giggled out.

"When people listen to Bad, they often hear a different kind of energy from your earlier work. What was shifting for you internally while you were making it?" you asked, seeming genuinely curious in his answer, as you clicked your pen to write quick notes of his answers.

His eyebrows shot up in shock for a quick second. This wasn't the question he was expecting. No latest rumour, no private life. Just pure and innocent curiosity about his music. He quickly cleared his throat.

"Music is always a reflection of whats happening within. With Bad, I think I was discovering a different kind of confidence within myself and my music... a different kind of voice. It wasn't about leaving anything behind. It was more about stepping into something new and breaking barriers that had never been tested" he answered truthfully.

It felt nice to be asked about his music and his reasoning behind certain aspects of his discography. Your eyes lit up at his response, your pen freezing on the paper.

"What a beautiful answer, Michael" you said in absolute awe. Michael stared wide eyed at you, hidden behind his dark aviators but still slightly visible, his teeth beginning to show in a shy grin.

"Okay, next question" you began.

"When you think about everything you've created so far... what do you hope people feel when they listen to your music?" you questioned softly, watching him shift slightly in his seat.

He paused for a moment, as if choosing the right words to express his feelings.

"I hope they feel understood" he said softly. "I hope it makes them feel something honest... something real. Even if it's just for a moment.

That's all I want from it. For someone, somewhere, to feel less alone when they hear it. To feel as though they can get up and dance to lift their moods" he almost teared up but pulled himself together just as quickly.

In the studio, people turned towards each other, sharing looks of disbelief. Had Michael ever sounded this connected with an interviewer and their questions?

"Wonderful. I'm sure your fans feel exactly the way you describe it, as I'm sure you know, they absolutely adore you and every piece of music you create and release", your pink, glittery lips pulling into a soft, melancholic smile as you reassured Michael of his feelings.

And so the questions continued on just like that. With meaningful and deep answers returned to curious questions.

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"Thats a wrap, everybody!" you gleefully exclaimed.

A loud round of applause echoed throughout the room, the sunlight turned to a light copper shade as the daylight passed into a beautiful painting of pink and orange.

"Thank you so much for having me everybody, and Miss Y/N, I really appreciated your questions. Thank you" he leaned closer in an intimate moment of pure thankfulness.

"It was absolutely my pleasure, Michael. I hope you enjoyed your experience here today" you smiled and bowed your head down in shyness.

Michael stood up, wiping his sweaty palms on his trousers, before embracing you quickly. Your own arms sliding comfortably around his waist and interlocking around his slender frame.

He took a step back, looking down at you. "Goodbye, I hope you interview me again" he giggled before walking past her.

He said goodbye to all of the crew he walked past on his way to the elevator before stepping in alongside Bill, and his manager Frank.

"You know Bill, I really like her" he admitted once the elevator doors slid shut.

Bill smirked knowingly at him. Oh young love.

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