#mjj

michael jackson!bad era 𝑥 𝒇!model reader ╱ you in a silk nightgown in front of your vanity removing your makeup while michael lies in bed watching you lovingly.

contains fluff, horny flirting, cunnilingus, fingering & heavy smut, so minors KEEP SCROLLING.ᐟ

𝓉here was something almost hypnotizing about the way you stood in front of the vanity in nothing but silk and perfume. it was cluttered with makeup wipes, expensive perfume bottles, and gold jewelry carelessly tossed aside.

michael thought it was the prettiest thing he’d ever seen. it had him in a trance while he lay against the pillows behind you, completely incapable of taking his eyes off you.

“baby,” michael said from the bed, watching your reflection through the vanity mirror.

“hm?” you cooed.

“you’re real pretty, y’know that?”

you couldn’t help but bat your lashes at your boyfriend through the reflection, a smile spreading across your face.

“oh stop it, you.” you were practically melting from his tender gaze.

“what,” he chuckled, “i’m serious.”

you rolled your eyes playfully at his attempts at flirting, knowing damn well how easy you always fell for it. the only sound to be heard throughout the room was the bracelets clinking on your wrist as you applied the moisturizer to your skin and the city bustling over a soft ronettes record you had playing. you leaned in a bit closer to the mirror to apply your vanilla flavored lip gloss—specifically the one michael really likes.

you noticed how quiet he got, peering back at him again to find him fidgeting with the silver rings around his fingers. michael sank slightly deeper into the pillows, dragging his teeth across his bottom lip as his eyes followed your every movement, admiring you lovingly. you caught his eyes drifting down to your chest that glistened in the light from the body oil you applied prior, causing you to smirk because you knew exactly what he was doing.

“you gonna keep starin’ at me like that?” you whispered, placing the lipgloss down while your eyes never left his.

michael’s eyes flickered back up to yours through the mirror, a crooked smile slowly pulling at his lips like he’d just been caught red handed.

“depends,” he murmured.

“on what?”

“on if you’re gonna keep lookin’ this pretty in front of me.”

you let out a quiet laugh beneath your breath, shaking your head while reaching for your brush again. “you’re unbelievable.” you couldn’t help the sensation he brought you with his sly words.

“mhm,” he hummed absentmindedly, though he clearly wasn’t listening anymore.

your movements slowed slightly as you watched him push himself up from the bed out of the corner of your eye. the mattress dipped quietly before his footsteps crossed the suite, slow and unhurried. your stomach tightened embarrassingly fast at the realization he was walking toward you.

michael stopped behind you, close enough for you to catch the warmth radiating from his body almost immediately. one of his hands settled lightly against the vanity beside you while the other found your waist with familiarity.

“michael,” you whispered with a smile, though it came out far less composed than intended.

“what?” he grinned innocently, lowering his head slightly near your shoulder.

you could see him perfectly through the reflection now. the dark curls hanging loosely near his face, the silver rings glinting beneath the warm bedroom lights, the way his eyes shamelessly wandered over you before returning back to your lips.

his fingertips traced slowly against the silky material hugging your waist, almost absentmindedly. “can you blame me?” he murmured. “been sittin’ over there tryin’ real hard to behave myself.”

your breath caught in your throat at the confession.

“oh really?” you teased quietly.

michael laughed under his breath before he started leaving a trail of lingering kisses from behind your ear and down your freshly perfumed neck.

“mhm,” he said between kisses, “you’re not makin’ it easy.”

your stomach went all in knots over the way he pampered you with his affection. he swiftly moved your hair to rest on your other shoulder before his hands started feeling down the lace hem of the night gown to your bare thighs. you watched him in the reflection with heavy eyes, his gaze briefly locking onto yours before his kisses traveled down to your shoulder—god he couldn’t get enough of your scent.

in a careful movement he turned you around to face him, taking a moment to appreciate you in all your beauty.

“may i kiss you?” he asked under his breath. no matter how impatient he was to slip that little piece of satin off of you, he was still gentlemanly which made your heart melt every time even though the answer was always yes.

you gave him an affirming nod with a small smile as he leaned in, embracing you with his long arms. it was deeply passionate, not rushing. he wanted to take his time with you, you were his safe haven.

after a few minutes, he led you to your queen bed and laid you down on the mattress, being careful not to let you down too hard with a hand on the back of your head. his tenderness toward you just made you even needier for him.

you pulled him on top of you, him now kneeling between your legs. warm kisses trailed down your neck again, you could feel how impatient he was with how hungrily he was attacking your skin with small nips. your hands felt up his back as his felt up your thighs, grazing the tiny piece of cotton you had underneath your nightgown which caused you to shiver beneath him.

he pulled away from your neck to murmur in your ear, “this okay, doll?” his fingers hooked around your panties, drawing circles with his thumbs on your bare skin.

you cupped his face with one hand and nodded, “yes my love.”

and with that, he slowly pulled them down and over your feet, watching your facial expressions as you watched his movements. you grabbed him by the collar of his shirt to pull him back, a boyish grin on display. you could feel yourself getting wetter and wetter, just from how handsome he looked in the moody lighting.

his mouth met yours once again, the same hungry passion from before. you groaned against him as you ached for his touch.

“someone’s needy.” michael teased in between your guys’ lips as his hands explored your figure once more, knowing how sensitive you were to his touch, before guiding your legs to spread for him. your hands ran underneath his shirt, your nails lightly dragging against his warm skin, a pleased hum buzzed through his lips. you felt his hard member through his pants against your sensitive core.

“please..” you couldn’t help but plead for a bit of ease from the ache between your legs.

“what’s wrong, mama?” he purred as he kissed against your collar bone now, “use your words.”

you hesitated at first as his eyes were glued to your face. he made you so unbelievably nervous underneath him, but he was so convincing and assuring.

“please touch me..” you mumbled. your hands were ahold of his biceps, lightly squeezing them the more you craved some sort of touch from him.

he smiled at your shy obedience but gave in very easily, knowing those little noises you make are one of his biggest weaknesses. your wish was his command. his hands moved painfully slow down your body and up your night gown, giving each of your breasts attention with lingering squeezes. your thighs squeezed a bit against michael’s torso and he loved it. he loved seeing the effect he had on you. but you hated how much he teased with his slow movements.

finally, one of his hands traveled down your stomach and over your heat, his middle finger slipping in between your folds and circling it lazily. you closed your eyes and let your head fall back against the mattress from the pleasure of having some sort of friction now. michael watched you in awe as his middle finger and ring finger swirled around your clit, a sweet moan slipping from your lips. you looked so beautiful unfolding from his touch, your breathing uneven and your legs unable to stay still.

your hips slightly elevated against his fingers, craving more when he moved his hand away from you. this snapped you back to reality as your gaze drifted back to his, chest rising up and down from your quickened heartbeat.

“i gotta taste you, sweetheart.” he said with a lick of his lips and began moving down, his face hovering over your clothed torso before meeting your lower abdomen. his hands carefully pulled your nightgown up towards above your hips, his gaze still fixed on yours. your bottom lip caught between your teeth as you watched him, his hands slowly spreading your thighs apart once more before his face buried between them.

he gave your sensitive bud a few licks before sucking on it slowly. your fingers combed through his hair, moving a few pieces away from his face as harmonious yet filthy noises escaped your lips. his tongue swirled around it and paired it with a suck while his fingers rubbed your lubricated hole, teasing it a bit.

“fuck, baby,” you sucked in a breath from the magic of his mouth on your clit, bucking your hips slightly.

“mm, so needy just for me.” he mumbled against you before easily slipping his middle finger inside of you, the work of his tongue never stopping. you whined quietly as your gummy walls squeezed against his finger. this alone was enough to make michael get off, your sweet moans and how wet you were made him so weak.

he pumped it in and out at a steady pace before slipping in another, carefully stretching your hole to fit both his fingers. your head was turned the other direction, but michael didn’t like this. when he saw that you were looking away, he took his free hand and got a grip on your chin to turn you to face him. your hands grabbed at the freshly done—now ruined—bedsheets as your eyebrows knit together in pleasure. a low satisfied moan escaped his lips at the sight of your satisfaction.

his pace quickened as you got louder, he loved how much you didn’t care one bit if the neighbors heard you—unlike him.

he could feel you getting close the more you squeezed around his fingers and the more you started getting whinier. this caused him to carefully remove his fingers as a tiny cry slipped from your throat.

“why’d you stop?” your breath hitched as your eyes flickered back to him.

he sat up for a moment to undo his belt buckle and remove his button up, “i’m sorry, doll,” he planted a kiss on your lips, “i just need to be inside of you.” his voice oozed desperateness as he slipped off his undergarments. you hummed and wrapped your legs around him as he positioned himself at your entrance, the both of you watching as he slowly slipped inside of you.

a breathy “fuck.” came from michael’s mouth with a low groan as he pushed further inside of you. your shaky hands found his back, nails grabbing at his skin as he moved in and out, slowly at first, but picked his pace up shortly after.

his face hid in the crook of your neck as his hips snapped against yours, the sound of his skin slapping against yours, the headboard knocking against the wall and both of your sweet moans filling the room.

you turned your head to face him and enveloped his lips with yours desperately, his nails now digging into the flesh of your hips as his hips continued driving into you, a much faster and deeper pace now.

“you’re taking me so well,” michael whimpered as your pussy sucked him in and in all the most addicting ways. the angelic noises that danced against your lips became higher pitched while his thrusts quickened even more—he was close and so were you.

your fingers moved to your clit which caught michael’s eye and nearly destroyed him.

“mm, yes,” he uttered as he pulled away from the kiss to watch you, “play with yourself- just like that-“ he pleaded while your fingers rubbed the bud back and forth. the immense pleasure took over you, a knot forming in your stomach while your legs locked around michael’s torso.

“im gonna cum, baby-“ you choked out between whimpers as he pounded you relentlessly.

“me too, angel.” he huffed as his dick twitched inside of you, the squelching sounds of your arousal mixed with his precum as he continued. “please- please cum for me honey.” he whined as his thrusts became more sloppy.

with a few more thrusts, you were sent over the edge with your walls clenching around his throbbing cock, the prettiest moans filling his ears. he drove one last thrust into you with a sweet cry before he released his seed inside of you.

your bodies stayed entangled together for a moment as the both of you caught your breath before you unwrapped your thighs from him. he couldn’t take his eyes off of your flustered state which caused you to cover your face.

“uht-uhh,” he giggled quietly and uncovered your face, “i want to see you.” he insinuated as he looked at you with such admiration. and you did the same, caressing his damp face, “you’re such a doo-doo head.” you joked with a small laugh.

“so are you.” he joked back, resting his head on your chest with the duvet covers now rested on top of the both of you. you placed a soft kiss to his forehead while dragging your nails up and down across his bare back, which helped him drift off to sleep. and not too long after, so did you.

michael jackson x f!reader ────୨ৎ──── ♡ wc: 4.3k

synopsis: childhoodbsf!mj and reader in a hot tub... what can go wrong? (or right :D)

cw: smut, switch!michael, hot tub sex, dry humping, dirty talk, praise, tensionnn, mutual pining, michael jackson being a whimperer (surprise), creampie

based off bad!era mj but any era works (i think)

the hot tub lights cast soft blue ripples across the water, reflecting against the stone around the edge of the patio. the early summer night air brushed against your damp skin coolly in contrast to the heat of the water, while music drifted faintly from somewhere inside the house. overhead, the sky was dark and cloudless, a soft breeze moving through the otherwise still night.

synopsis. In the fresh modern age of 2026, the last thing you'd expect was to get thrown in a Back to the Future plot. You and your totally basic life go haywire during a moment of curiosity when you decide to test out a stubborn retro camera with mixed up dates. What happens when it wasn't just any old camera? What if it had taken you back to the 20th century? And what will you do when you find the chance to change his fate?

starring. multiple eras!michael jackson x time traveller!reader

content warnings. death, sexual content later in the story, tobacco, alcohol, mental and physical abuse, michael's childhood, and many more content labels yet to come! muahaha

PAST EXPOSURE PLAYLIST <- Spotify link

MASTERLIST

(total episode count has not been determined yet)

—prologue | Say cheese!

—episode 2 | This is far out!

—episode 3 | Oh, dear child...

—episode 4 | Funky 21st century girl!

—episode 5 | ...

—episode 6 | ...

—episode 7 | ...

—episode 8 | ...

—episode 9 | ...

—episode 10 | ...

—episode 11 | ...

—episode 12 | ...

—episode 13 | ...

—episode 14 | ...

—episode 15 | ...

—episode 16 | ...

—episode 17 | ...

(Further episodes will be decided later on.)

If you would like to be tagged for this series or for my general taglist, please let me know!

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

﹏﹏﹏

CELEBRATORY DINNER 

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

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

﹏﹏﹏

5 YEARS AGO 

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

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

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

“Yes, that’s her.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

﹏﹏﹏

WEEKS BEFORE GRAMMYS CELEBRATION DINNER 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Better than ever.” 

“You won’t even ask how I’m doing?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m sorry. A list?” You huff. 

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

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

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

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

You let out an unsatisfactory groan. “Right.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Tell me, darling, what’s the real me?” Michael hums. 

“A real dog piece of crap. You’re a bully, an egotistical man ready to ambush anyone willing to take any sort of spotlight away from you. Unlucky for you, that person happens to be me. A younger girl.” 

Michael stares at you, gripping onto the armrest beneath him. He wanted to hurt you, make you cry, anything to shut you up. And so he venomously says, “Exactly. So stay where you’re at. Don’t try to ignite a fire where a fire already burns. You’ll just be a waste.” 

Your breath hitches, and Michael turns, leaving you completely silent. 

The rest of the shoot goes silent between the two of you, playing your parts as you work together to look good for the cameras, quickly pulling away when Ellen yells, “Done!” You change back into your clothes, removing your makeup, and request to be alone. Your assistant complies, leaving the door slightly open as he walks away. You look to the door, waiting for him to leave before biting your lip, watching through the mirror as your eyes begin to tear, and you close them. The tears fall, and you cover your mouth as you sob. This shoot, despite the constant compliments and reassurance that it was perfect, you felt angry and ugly. You hated the clothes against your skin, the fact that you were in a hairstyle you’d never wear willingly, and most of all, paired up with the one you hate the most. You continue to sob, wiping away the rest of your makeup before dropping the wipe onto the vanity and tucking your face into your hands. 

Michael walks to your door, peeking through the space. He hears your sobs. He knows them all too well. He knows the feeling of crying after hearing constant consolation. However, he felt horrible. He felt like garbage. He knew you were in that state because of him. He took it upon his own liberty to make it up to you by speaking highly of you in his portion of the solo interview.

“She’s a very talented young woman. Her music is amazing, and her ideas are so intelligent. They’ve definitely inspired me. My brothers and I carry so much respect for her, despite all the press forcing us to hate each other.” He quoted, clawing at his pants as he practically had to make sure his heart wouldn’t stop beating as he said the words. They weren’t a 100% lie; he just hated that he even had to say something like that. 

He debated knocking on your door, wanting to give you an apology, but instead, gave you one last look before walking off. You, on the other hand, pull your hands away from your face and smirk. You heard footsteps as soon as you placed your head in your hands, and took a small peek from under your eyes as Michael stood there and watched you. Your assistant had warned you that Michael would say some good things about you in the interview. You, on the other hand? You didn’t hold back. 

“Michael, like every other man, hates to see a woman succeed. I mean, you can be timeless without putting others down. Jackson is the king in ensuring that he’s the saint in every situation. I mean, how jealous can you be? You’re allowed to share. I mean, that just shows the privilege he carries. He makes good music, I guess. But as a person? He’s difficult to work with, and I’ve only met him twice.” 

﹏﹏﹏

MORNING AFTER GRAMMY NIGHT

The magazine and interview came out the morning after the Grammys, and Michael fumed. And I mean fumed. His family had never seen him slam doors so hard. He didn’t even greet his animal friends as he walked past them and into the backseat of his car. He was furious. He had spoken so well of you, even willing to lie to his family, and look at how you repaid him? You probably faked crying, he thought. He ignored the look of his family as he walked up and down the stairs, figuring out ways to get you back. Bill looked at him through the mirror, watching the sweat begin to build up above Michael’s lip as he bit it. 

He had milestones to be proud of- that should’ve been his focus. Instead? He ripped apart every single copy of the magazine they had sent him. He kept one, however. He felt mad at the biological aspect of his body as he raked his dark eyes over your body. God, you were beautiful. In the pictures together, you two could’ve fooled anyone living under a rock and could say you two were in love, and they’d believe it. Michael hated the effect you had on his body, and that just made him despise you more than ever. 

You, on the other hand, looked at your Grammys sitting in a perfect line at the top of your dresser. You drank the champagne in your hand, humming along to a Bruce Springsteen song as you looked through the magazine over and over again. Not only did you look better than you thought, but Michael had fallen into your trap. Although his words did hit a tiny spot, you knew he would feel bad and make up for it in the most cowardly and noble way possible. You traced your manicured fingers along his quotes, smiling. Maybe he was lying, maybe he was finally being honest. Either way, none of it mattered. You had eight Grammy awards in front of you, ready to be cleaned and placed in a cabinet. Oh, and an outfit and speech to prepare for the celebratory dinner that’d take place in a couple of nights. 

﹏﹏﹏

CELEBRATORY DINNER 

You approach Michael, and smirk as the cameras follow both of you. You rake your eyes over his body, a detailed jacket similar to the one he wore a few nights ago, reminding you of the very reason you decided to dramatize your look today. “Hello, Mr. Jackson.”

Michael leans in, feigning a formal cheek-kiss as the cameras click, harshly gripping onto your arm. “Save the dramatics, young thing. You already won.” 

“Oh, honey, but we both did.” You pull away, grabbing his hand on you and interlacing it with yours, turning to smile at the camera. They move away to another guest, and you drop it, rolling your eyes. Michael’s stomach flutters at the nickname you give him, but he tucks that feeling away, focusing on the disdain that sits in his heart. 

“Want the truth? I can’t be happy with that night. I don’t think I ever will be. All because of you.” 

You place a hand over your heart, brushing away the loose piece of hair from your face. “Does it bother you that much to share such a milestone with a woman?” 

Michael laughs, shaking his head. “Oh, please, don’t make it into that. You know perfectly fine why I hate sharing anything with you.” 

You shake your head, grabbing a champagne glass off the waiter’s tray and gently sucking the candied cherry, giving it a small pop as you maintain eye contact with Michael’s dark eyes. The look he keeps on you is intense and dangerous, yet promising. “Michael, let go of the theatrics, and enjoy the fact that we’ve made history. If you drop this immature behavior just for one night, so will I, I promise.” 

“Nothing about what I want to do to you is immature. I promise you.” Michael leans in, whispering in your ear as he softly pinches your cheek, spinning you as you both greet a member from the committee. You shut out the words from everyone else, focusing on the intentionality behind his words. Threatening, poisonous, and toxic. And yet, your body loved every single syllable that came out of his mouth, and you were more mad at yourself for feeling that way. 

You both move on, appreciating the distance as a distraction from the fact that you two didn’t know what you were doing anymore. Michael didn’t care to be cordial or respectful. The things he wanted to do to you, the way he wanted to bend you over and pound into you roughly without mercy, the way he wanted to pull on your hair, putting pressure on your neck to the point where you’d beg him to stop, yet pull his hands back onto your neck if he dared to pull away. The looks he gave from across the room should’ve been forbidden. It carried lust, heat, and vulnerability. All of which he was willing to submit to just for one night, if it meant his mind would finally get rid of you. 

The tables had labels with your names on them, and of course, your names were right beside each other. You took a seat next to him, holding onto your dress as you bent over, wiping away any nonexistent crumbs from the seat, as Michael focused on the softness of your breasts. You smirk, finally sitting and turning to him. “Done being a little crybaby?” 

Michael rolls his eyes, giving a small smile to some guests as they walk by him, offering their congratulations. “I’m keeping track of every smart comment you make, by the way.” 

“For what?” 

Now he turns to you. “So you know how many times you’ll be denied finishing by my hand.” 

Your mouth gapes open, and you lose grip of your clutch. It falls onto the floor, and Michael bends down, keeping one hand on the floor and another on your thigh as he presses a kiss near your ankle. He groans softly, sitting back up and placing your clutch on his lap. “You did say I’d be kissing your feet soon, huh? Guess you were right.” 

You’re silent, clearing your throat as you push your chair closer to the table. You’ve gone completely speechless, and you hate yourself for it. Michael hums, smirking beside you as he takes a sip of his drink. Most of the night passes by, and it takes every smart neuron in your brain to stop you from running to the bathroom and pleasuring yourself. It seems you still have some common sense. 

“Lastly, can we give it up for the record-breaking stars in the house?” Someone speaks into the microphone, and you smile and wave as the camera pans to you, then to Michael. Michael bows his head, waving. The cheers in the room break out of the trance you’ve unfortunately fallen into. 

“You two are so young, and already legends to many. How do you do it?” You playfully shrug your shoulders, pointing to Michael as the crowd laughs. You cross your legs, biting your bottom lip as Michael smirks at the camera, wrapping an arm around you. You huff a breath, attempting to scoot away, but instead, Michael grips onto your back harder. 

The crowd takes note of every single detail of you both- from your facial expressions to the unintentional matching outfits you two are wearing. They keep your interviews in mind as you smile at each other, confused by the sudden friendliness. You, on the other hand, want to kill Michael. Where did he get the audacity to think he could touch you like that? Why is his grip hardening, becoming warmer and warmer? Despite these thoughts, you don’t push his hand away. Instead, you keep it there, nodding along to the speaker. 

“And now, a speech from our record-breaking artists!” You and Michael stand, and Michael takes out his hand, and you look down at it. You turn and spot Lionel Richie sticking out his arm, and you give a smirk to Michael as you grab onto Lionel’s. You hear some gasps around you, but you kiss Lionel on the cheek as you walk onto the stage. Michael stands beside you, grabbing onto your waist. He leans into your ear, and you feel yourself shudder. “You embarrassed me, girl. Another deny tonight.”

You gulp and watch as Michael pulls away, waving kisses to the crowd as he steps onto the podium. He begins his speech, and you don’t care to listen to anything he says. That’s a lie; you just can’t focus on anything besides the way he grips onto the glass podium and licks his lips. 

“And of course, I get to stand here a proud and fortunate man alongside this beautiful artist.” Michael turns to you, and you give a small raise of your eyebrows, walking to the podium as you softly push Michael away. 

“Whatever good he said about me just now, I agree.” You speak, and the crowd laughs. Michael nods his head, biting his lip as he gives a glance at Lionel, rolling his eyes as he keeps his gaze on you. 

“I said most of what I meant the other night, in my speeches. But I truly hold so much love and appreciation for my team, family, and friends who supported me on this journey. As a woman, it isn’t easy getting any higher on the ladder in this industry.” You feel your voice crack, and the room focuses on you. 

Michael tenses beside you, not knowing what to do. He didn’t want to steal your spotlight by attempting to comfort you, but he also didn’t want to see the press label him as a “jerk” for not giving you any solace. 

“For so long, since I started being known, I was always compared to the men in the industry who have come before me. Of course, my respect to them for breaking their own barriers and creating their careers. But, as a woman, it isn’t fair for me to sit there and allow any interviewers to disrespect the career I’ve worked so hard to build.” You turn to Michael and give a small nod. A nod that makes Michael’s breath hitch. That nod, a gesture so minuscule yet so heavy with meaning. It makes Michael’s heart beat faster, confused yet relieved. 

“I’m really grateful I’ve won all these awards- they look so good in my house,” you laugh, wiping a small tear away that threatens to fall, “but I’m more proud of myself. Proud that I’ve endured so much, and yet have come here and broken the barrier. A barrier I’m proud to say I’ve broken with the one and only, Michael Jackson.” The crowd literally erupts in screams, standing as you take a step back and laugh. Michael’s eyes slightly widen, shocked at your words. He takes them in, every single syllable entering his body, running like euphoria through his blood. You turn to him, leaning to hug him, pressing a kiss against his cheek. His cock hardens at your touch, twitching as you pull away, smiling as you run your fingers down his arms and into his free hand. 

“I never hated him, by the way. You all just took away my words out of context!” You say, blowing a kiss before pulling Michael away and down the stairs, and back into your seats. 

Music begins playing, and artists take the chance to group and gossip about what just happened. You grip onto the glass, taking a sip of the champagne. Michael subtly runs his hand over his crotch, wanting to find any friction to stop him from finishing in his pants then and there. 

“You must want to see me worship you like you’re the only thing in the world.” 

“That’s been the plan all along, sweetheart, I thought you knew.” 

Michael hums, keeping a hand on your thigh as you smile at guests who walk by, offering their compliments to you both. He leans into your ear, brushing hair out of your way as he keeps his gaze on your face. “I’m going to ruin you tonight in a way where you’ll be begging for mercy.” 

You lick your lips, smiling and pressing a soft and subtle kiss beside Michael’s ear. “What if I like that?” 

“Then I don’t want you complaining when you’re not allowed to play with yourself, baby.” 

A voice interrupts you both, and Michael begins talking with them. You’re impressed at his ability to act like he wasn’t just the reason your core was practically leaking down your legs. You straighten your posture, pretending not to notice that despite Michael’s attention being on his guest, his hand never left your thigh. You attempted to fidget yourself out of his touch, but he didn’t budge. If anything, it pushed him to keep his hand on you. 

The rest of the night goes by in a blur, Michael keeping a grip on you with no shame. You were embarrassed, secretly. You knew the exact judgment you’d receive the same night by the media tabloids, but a part of you didn’t care. 

You were having fun, that’s what you reminded yourself whenever you caught yourself smiling a little too hard. 

﹏﹏﹏

You closed the door with a bit of aggressiveness, double-checking the lock as you walked to Michael, who was sitting on the bed, glove off and beside him. You throw your clutch and jacket across the chair, sitting in the other, crossing your legs as you throw your head back and keep your gaze on Michael. He invited you to his hotel room, and you refused. 

You gave him a small pat on his back, walking to your car and opening the door, closing it a minute later, and walking back, rolling your eyes as Michael stood by his car door, nodding to it as you walked into the back and sat down, ensuring you had enough space from Michael where the cameras wouldn’t capture anthing suspicious, simply cordial respect between two superstars. 

You changed your mind once you got to the hotel, giving an excuse that you were “tired,” and Michael hummed, leaving you in the lobby as he walked to his room. You stood there, feeling stupid and confused. You made up your mind an hour later, walking to his room and doing the walk of shame. You knocked softly on his door, sighing as he gave a warm “welcome.” 

Michael’s eyes are on you, raking his eyes from your exposed legs to your unblinking eyes. “You had me waiting like a fool.” 

“I wasn’t sure if coming up here was a good idea.” 

“What makes you say that?” Michael jokes, and you let out a laugh. 

Michael stands and takes off his coat. He kicks his shoes off and nods to your heels. You nod your head, carefully taking them off and placing them below the table next to you. 

Michael walks to you, crouching down, bringing his lips to your ear. “Nothing about what I want to do with you is a good idea, baby. Catch up.” 

You sigh, closing the gap between the two of you. The kiss was fierce, harsh, unloving. It wasn’t soft or filled with relief- it was filled with coldness and shame. 

You let out a moan as Michael brings his hand down to your throat, putting pressure on it as you slip your tongue into his mouth. Your nipples harden against your dress, and you bring your hand down to your breast, toying with it as you whimper. Michael notices this, and he immediately tuts, shaking his head as he pulls your hand away. “No touching unless I say so.” 

You shake your head, pushing his hand away as you fight to touch yourself, but Michael just watches, using all his force to keep your hand away. You softly groan, his grip hurting. You eventually give in, allowing Michael to take control as he puts pressure back on your neck. “Good girl, baby. I want you all to be compliant after being so mean to me these past few years.” 

You close your eyes, the pressure on your neck darkening your vision. Michael hums, letting go as you let out a whine. Michael grabs onto your shoulders, helping you up as he unzips your dress. You stand naked in front of him, and you feel the weight of his words in the past haunt your mind. You instinctively cover your body, and Michael grabs your arms, pulling them away and keeping them next to your legs. “Don’t.” 

You stay silent, unsure of what to say. 

“You’ve always been the most beautiful woman to me. Always.” 

“You have a funny way of showing it.” You spit back, anger lacing into your tone. Michael smirks, and you push him, gripping onto his shirt as you give him a frenzied kiss. Michael groans, allowing your taste to consume him whole. You taste so perfect against him. Your tongues play with his so cohesively, like the rhythm you two created was pre-planned. Maybe in a way, it was. All those years of pent-up tension were finally being expressed, and it felt so good. It wasn’t right, of course, but nobody cared about the ethical dilemmas around here. What was important was how the body chemistry worked out, and Michael appreciated a good beat against his own melodies. 

You use all your force Michael’s shirt open, not caring about his whines about how expensive it was. You just cared about running your hands down his chest, his skin so soft against your palms. How can someone with so much disdain in his heart be so physically delicate? 

Michael turns you around, laying you on your stomach against the softness of the bed. Michael presses against your shoulder and down to the waistband of your panties, where he brings them down. He stuffs them in his pocket, smirking as he lifts your bottom. He licks his fingers, moistening them as he runs them down your neck and to your breasts, giving them a hard pinch before bringing them over your exposed pussy. He begins stretching your pussy with one finger, teasing at your whines. “Where’s all that back-talk now, hm?” 

You bite Michael’s free hand, scared to make any more noise as he keeps his finger inside your wet hole. He doesn’t move, and your eyes roll back. “Please.” 

“That’s more like it.” Michael thrusts his finger in and out, wetness coating his finger. He pushes another in, admiring how much you could take without already cumming. He pushes your limit, inserting another, and begins thrusting again. You cry out, grinding onto his hand, teeth clenching against each other as your clit receives stimulation from  Michael’s palm. 

“Look at how wet you get from me. Have you been like this the entire time?” Michael whispers in your ear. You know he’s referring to the entirety of your rivalry, and you suppress your remarks. You’re too busy focusing on the stimulation against your core, and how full Michael’s fingers are inside you. 

“Oh, Michael.” You loudly whine, and Michael groans, rubbing his clothed cock against the back of your thighs. He begins dry humping you, refraining from doing anything more as your ass thrusts back against his stomach. 

“Everything about your body makes me a submissive man. I hate feeling this way. I hate you for making me feel this way. And yet, I’ve never wanted to stay so close to a person like right now.” Michael breathes out, and his words bring more pleasure to you than his actions. You feel your legs begin to shake, and your vision becomes cloudy. 

“I’m about to cum, Michael.” You regret it the moment the words leave you, because as soon as your wet walls began to tighten Michael’s fingers, he slides them out, juices flowing down your thighs. You let out a loud grunt, using all your energy to push away from him and turning around, legs still shaking as you sit up. 

Michael smirks at you as your face heats up in embarrassment and anger, mostly embarrassment. “You’re a jerk.” 

“I warned you, baby. Next time, remember to be nice if you want to cum.” You roll your eyes, and Michael readjusts himself on the bed, crawling to you. He pulls your hair, forcing your mouth open as he slides his tongue into yours, battling for dominance. He brings his hand to your nipple, immediately taking control as you let out a desperate sigh. 

He starts pressing wet kisses down your face and into your neck, sucking gently against the softness of your throat, making sure he leaves bruises on you. He brings his tongue down to your breasts, spilling them out of your bra and stuffing his face in between them, humming. “These will be the death of me.” 

You let out a breathy gasp, lying back onto the pillow as Michael runs his tongue over your nipples, sucking gently on each breast. You bring your hand down his shoulder, squeezing the muscle you began grinding yourself against him. He lays a hand on your stomach, halting your movements. “Let me eat in peace first, please.” 

You whine but comply, holding onto his face as he continues to suck on your breasts, the pleasure becoming a familiar feeling your body knows it could get used to. His tongue builds up a pattern that makes your muscles tighten, feeling your stomach build up with a yearning to release. Michael brings his hand down to your stomach, humming before he pops his mouth off your breast. You whine, shaking your head, pleading incoherent words. 

“Poor baby can’t even speak. How much more submissive can you get for me?” Michael smirks, pinching your nipples before standing up, sliding his shirt off his arms and onto the floor. 

You keep your hazy gaze on him as he runs his hand down his chest and to the waistband of his pants, zipping the zipper down and pulling them down altogether. His cock springs out, and you have to bite your lip to suppress a humiliating moan from escaping your fevered body. He begins pumping it, and you get on your knees, crawling to him once he directs you to him.

“Suck it for me, fox.” Michael rasps, and you wrap your tongue around the tip, sucking gently before shoving as much as you can fit in your mouth, bobbing your head up and down. Saliva trickles down your mouth and onto the base of his cock messily, but neither of you cares. 

Michael brings his hands to the back of your head, pulling gently on your hair into a rhythmic pattern. He hums, and every vibration runs through your body, electrifying every single cell in your body. You bring your hands down to your opening, fingering yourself before Michael harshly grips onto your hair, shaking his head. 

“You don’t even deserve to feel pleasure from yourself.” Michael teases, and you let out a desperate moan into his cock, feeling a harsher grip on your face as he bobs you up and down. You feel his cock pulsate in your mouth, and you open your eyes, finding Michael’s eyes rolled back as he bites his lip. You pinch his thigh, and he lets out a rasped whimer. A whimper so beautiful you take it in, memorizing every harmonic note.  Michael smirks, thrusting himself into your mouth, appreciating every noise you let out. 

Michael thrusts himself into your warm mouth before spilling inside your mouth, keeping your mouth on his cock until it stops twitching.

“Be a good thing for me and swallow it, okay?” Michael grips onto your jaw, and you let out a gasp as you swallow, humming as Michael grips onto your arms, bringing you onto his lap. 

Your breathing falls into a calm rhythm, matching Michael’s. You use the quiet to look into Michael’s eyes, looking for any trace of emotion. Your heart isn’t sure what’s looking for, but you see satisfaction, pleasure, and somberness. You bring your fingers across his face, an action so soft, yet Michael’s skin prickles, heart tingeing at your touch. He’s scared, unsure of why he feels so terrified to continue touching your skin. It felt so soft under his touch, perfect even. And Michael didn’t label perfection to just everything. 

“You’re ruining me, and I hate you for it,” Michael murmurs, lining up cock to your entrance. He teases your slit, closing his eyes at your moans. 

“But I’ve never felt more at home than I do at this moment.” 

His cock thrusts into you, the pain hitting you instantly. He stays still, sighing as your head falls onto his chest. You grind onto him, wanting the pleasure to hit you all at once. Michael takes the hint and brings his hands to your hips, gripping them as he begins thrusting into you. It’s a pound so heavy, filling yet your soul feels empty. You shake your head, biting onto Michael’s chest as his ruts inside you make sin look so innocent. 

“Please. I need more.” You whine, and Michael hums, quickening his pace. You’re stuffed completely, cock disappearing into your body. Michael moans at the pleasure, every massage working his thighs. The pleasure becomes overbearing, and his muscles begin to spasm. You smile softly, turning the languid movements into frenzied bucks, taking control. You grip onto Michael’s shoulders for support and begin hopping on him, the stimulation overpowering you. Your moans were pornographic, a shameful reaction you’d know you’d regret the next morning, but you didn’t care. You didn’t care about the outside world right now, or the sad look in Michael’s eyes; you cared about how good Michael’s cock filled you, every vulnerable thrust swallowing you whole. 

“Yes, ride it just like that, my girl. Ride my cock just like that.” Michael hums, and you whine. Every word assuring, every moan filling your ears like a delicious melody you never want to get rid of. 

“You’re mine.” You shamefully mutter, and it brings Michael to tears. Your words hit him like a brick, not stopping him for his pleasure, however, and using that to bring him to his finish. His thrusts become messy, and you bring his fingers to your clit, demanding more pleasure. He gives in, and you feel the heat pooling in your back, crawling to your neck, and down your stomach, where your legs begin to shake. Michael nips at your lip, and he licks your tongue, every breathy moan filling him so perfectly. 

Your gut tightens, and shockwaves run through your body as you come, and Michael follows, hips stuttering as he lets out a whiny groan, eyes rolling back. He bites your lip, drawing blood and licking it, every tremor making his skin heat up. You fall into his chest, head resting onto him as your knees buckle, Michael’s release running down your thighs. The room is silent, your breath being the only muse as proof of what just happened, setting into reality. You’re still scared to move. Michael hesitantly brings his hands to your face and pulls you to his face. 

Your eyes are closed, scared to find anything you don’t want to see in his eyes. However, Michael holds onto your face, whispering, “Open them, please.” 

You shake your head at first and feel regret. You open them eventually, and tears spring up to your eyes. “I’m lost.” 

Michael nods and bites his bottom lip. “I know.” Your body shakes, silent sobs erupting out of you as you feel every piece of your heart wash away in a lost wind. Michael sits still, allowing your cries to relieve. He doesn’t want to stop you, because he knows you feel that way for a reason, but he feels a sharp pain in his chest. 

“We need to talk about this, baby.” Michael pleads, and you wipe your eyes. 

“Michael, what is there to say? You hate me. I hate you. That’s it. That’s.. all.” You get off his lap, and Michael’s skin cools without your warmth. You feel the chills crawl down your body, but you shake them off, choosing distance over comfort. 

Michael’s silent, because you’re right. He kept replaying that in his head over and over as every kiss and thrust felt familiar against his body. That fueled him to go faster, and now, he regrets it. 

“You don’t hate me, and you know that. That’s why you’re searching for that distance right now, isn’t it?” 

You shake your head, tears falling down your face. “I will not talk about this with you, I won’t.” You say, and grip onto your dress, heading towards the bathroom. Michael steps in front of you, stopping you from moving any further. 

“You do damage to me, that I can admit. But I love it. After tonight, there is nothing better for me out there.” 

“This is abuse, Michael. We do nothing but damage each other. That isn’t healthy; this will not work past tonight.” 

“Then I may just die if you walk into that door.” 

Your heart drops, but you choose yourself. You walk past Michael and go into the bathroom. You turn on the faucet, sobbing as you put on your dress and wash your face. You lay your head against the cold skin, water still running as you pay it no mind. You hear the door open, and your sobs grow louder. After some time, you stand and walk out of the bathroom. The room is empty, no trace of Michael. No trace of anything, besides your heels. You put them on and walk out the door. You close it, leaning against it before you pull out your clutch, and take out a cigarette. 

You smoke it as you walk down the halls and downstairs, finding your driver waiting for you at the front. You get inside the car and direct him to your hotel. 

You walk into your room, heart empty and cold, as you sit on your bed. You knew you made the right decision, so why does your heart sit in a pile of black liquid, lost and unable to find satisfactory beating? 

﹏﹏﹏

Bill groans, shaking his head as he sits beside Michael. “This is a bad idea, son.” 

“Everything about her is a bad idea. Hell, she is a bad idea. But I think I want this.” 

“You think, or you know?”

Michael doesn’t respond, looking out the window as the car pulls into the side of your hotel. He strolls in, not caring about the cameras and microphones pushed into his face as he rides the elevator and walks to your door. He stands outside it, ear pressed up against the door before he knocks. 

“Come in.” He hears, and he assumes you must be waiting for someone. Yet, he walks in, and he finds you reading a newspaper while sipping coffee.

You point to the chair across from you and nod. Michael sits down, silent. He opens his name, breathing out your name before clearing your throat. 

“Sign.” You say, handing him a paper.

“NONDISCLOSURE AGREEMENT,” in big, bold letters. Michael reads over the first and last paragraphs, letting out a laugh. 

“You knew I’d come to chase you, didn’t you?” 

You hum. “Don’t you always?” 

Michael licks his lips, taking the pen from you and signing his name. 

“So…” Michael begins, and you softly smile. 

“I couldn’t sleep last night. Not because I was tired or sore, but because I sat there, my heart feeling lost. Dumbfounded. And I hate feeling that way. I hate you for making me feel like this. But, I also can’t be apart from you without feeling whole. Seeing you walk into that door made me the happiest I’ve been since you last touched me.” 

Michael’s silent, unsure of what to say. What exactly were you trying to say?

You read his mind, because you bite your lip, set down your cup, and let out a shaky breath. “What I’m trying to say is that I still hate you. Maybe I always will. But every touch you linger on me is a molecule that washes in attraction and love, and it scares the shit out of me. But I need more, which means I-“

“You need me.” Michael finishes, and you hesitantly nod. Michael softly smiles, and his soft features build up on his face, making you squirm, but you mirror his smile. 

“You’re poison, you know that, girl?” Michael laughs and stands, pulling you into a hug. He leans his forehead against yours and closes his eyes. 

“And yet we’re still here.” You whisper. 

Michael nods, eyes still closed. His fingers trace your face, familiarizing himself with the face he never wants to stop seeing, kissing, loving. His heart clenches a bit, anxiety and attraction creeping into his system. However, as he holds onto you, he lets out a breath. He’s right where he wants to be, and he can’t complain. You smile against him, eyes admiring his details. You’re in awe of him, of you, but most of all, the will to still yearn for something that isn’t guaranteed to ever work. 

To Have and To Hold (You Down)

Pairing: Michael Jackson x fem! reader

Summary: The night after losing his virginity, Michael Jackson finds he can't control his body or his obsession. What begins as a tense ride home from the AMAs erupts into a raw, relentless claiming in the one place he was always meant to be innocent: his childhood bedroom. (established relationship)

Word Count: 4530

Tags: off the wall era, smut, porn with plot, oral sex (f receiving), prone bone, sexual awakening, sort of romantic smut?, michael is pussy drunk y'all, slight praise kink, marking, unprotected sex, creampie (oop) overstimulation,

Authors Note: this was a request. people want more otw mike! and another anon requested pussy drunk michael otw era as well, so NATURALLY this was born. im so sorry if this is not what either of you had in mind lmao. rarely see smut or much at all in this era tbh (ITS HIS BEST??? ARGUE W THE (off the) WALL -- hAH get it?)

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18+ minors dnu!!!

pairing: bad m.jackson x fem!reader

synopsis: michael notices that his brothers find his girlfriend hot and he gets jealous, proving to them that you’re all his.

warnings: marlon attempting to flirt with you, jealous michael, angry sex, fingers in mouth (bring it back), overhearing, smut, dom michael, that’s genuinely just dada.

a/n: guys i’m sorry i’m ovulating i don’t know what came over me with this one. i got a little carried away.

you, michael and his brothers—tito, jackie, jermaine, marlon, and randy—were all having a pool day at hayvenhurst as it was a hot summer day. all six boys were dressed in their swim trunks, you were dressed in a skimpy red bikini that sat on your body perfectly.

michael’s eyes were fixed on you as you emerged from the house in your red bikini. the colour complimented your sun-kissed skin, and the string ties on the sides accentuated your curves.

his brothers all looked your way as you walked out the door, walking towards them—tito let out a low whistle, jackie raised his eyebrows, jermaine smirked, and marlon sat up straight in his lounge chair—michael felt a surge of possessiveness he hadn’t experienced before.

as you walked towards michael, his eyes darkened with desire and jealously. he knew his brothers were checking you out—your long legs, your toned stomach, and your tits that sat perfectly—he wanted to throw a towel over you and carry you inside. “baby,” he called out softly.

you heard michael’s soft call and looked over at him, a warm smiling spreading across your face. his eyes were dark, intense—focused on you with that hungry look he only ever showed when they were alone—you walked over to him, sitting on a lounge chair.

“what’s up?” you asked, tilting your head slightly at him.

before michael could answer, his brothers were making their presence known, clearly appreciating the view. marlon was the boldest, sliding his sunglasses down the bridge of his nose to get a better look, his eyes shamelessly sweeping over your body.

“damn, mike,” marlon called out with a teasing grin, leaning back on his elbows. “where have you been hiding her?”

michael’s jaw tightened, his fingers curling into fists at his sides. he stepped closer to you, his hand finding the small of your back possessively as he pulled you against his chest. “she’s not hidden anywhere, marlon,” michael said, his voice tight with restrained irritation. “she’s mine. has been for two years.”

marlon just laughed, clearly not taking michael’s warning seriously. “relax, mike. we’re just admiring the view.” he grinned, pushing michael’s buttons on purpose.

tito chuckled from his lounge chair, flipping through a magazine but clearly paying attention. “marlon, you’re gonna get your ass kicked today.”

jermaine smirked, swirling the drink in his hand. “can you blame him though? that bikini is doing something to me.” he said, joining in on the teasing.

jackie joined inc leaning forward on his knees. “mike, you better put a collar on her man. we’re all thinking the same thing.” the competitive teasing among the brothers was escalating and michael’s body was rigid against yours, his hand tightening on your waist as he pulled you flush against his wet chest.

his lips brushed against your ear, voice dropping to that whisper that you knew meant he was dangerously jealous. “ignore them, baby. they’re just being stupid.” but his hands were already sliding lower, his fingers playing with the strings of your bikini bottoms possessively.

marlon wasn’t done with his teasing, standing up and stretching deliberately. “two years, huh?”

you rolled your eyes at the brothers’ antics, used to their teasing by now. you wrapped your arms around michael’s neck, pressing a soft kiss to his jaw to calm him down. “pay them no mind,” you murmured, nipping lightly at his earlobe.

michael’s breath hitched at your touch, his eyes fluttering briefly closed before he opened them again, dark with desire and frustration. he cupped your face with one hand, thing brushing over your lip. “i wish they’d shut the fuck up,” he whispered.

marlon laughed like he knew exactly what he was doing. “two years and she’s still not as when you first snatched her. you fucking that every night?” everyone went silent. michael’s body stiffened dangerously. “marlon…” tito warned.

michael’s eyes narrowed to dangerous slits, his fingers stilling on your waist. he didn’t answer marlon’s crude question. instead, he grabbed your wrist and turned toward the door. “mike, we were just playing!” jackie called out, but michael didn’t turn back.

without a word, michael dragged you into the house, his strides long and purposeful. he didn’t stop until he reached his bedroom, kicking the door shut behind you. once inside, he stood in front of you, chest heaving with angry breaths.

“i swear to god, ive never wanted to punch marlon more in my life,” michael muttered, pacing away from you. he was jealous and clearly trying not to explode. “that was so disrespectful.” he ran a hand through his curls.

you watched him pace, knowing he needed to cool off. when he finally paused, you stepped up behind him, pressing a soft kiss between his shoulder blades. michael’s shoulders sagged slightly, his voice strained. “don’t touch me right now, okay?”

he sounded mean, but you knew it wasn’t directed at you. you kept kissing his back softly, his shoulders, his neck. michael didn’t push you away. he groaned instead, his body relaxing gradually. “baby, stop,” he muttered softly, but his voice lacked real irritation.

“i’m not stopping until you stop being so mad at your brothers,” you murmured against his damp skin, your lips trailing down his spine.

michael exhaled sharply, his hands bracing against the dresser. “they were looking at you like they wanted to fuck you,” he admitted in a low, wounded tone. “and marlon…”

“and marlon was being an asshole,” you finished for him, your fingers working to massage his tense shoulders. “but you’re the one i’m with, mikey. not them. i’m wearing your ring on my finger, not theirs. i’ve been sleeping in your bed for two years.” you pressed closer.

michael turned around slowly, his dark eyes searching your face. the jealousy was still there, simmering beneath the surface, but your words had softened him. he reached out, cupping your face in his hands, his thumbs caressing your cheeks. “two years,” he repeated softly, leaning his forehead against yours. “and you still look at me like that.”

his lips found yours gently, a soft, apologetic kiss meant to reassure rather than arouse. his hands stayed on your face, thumbs brushing over your cheeks as he kissed you slowly, deeply.

you pulled back just enough to breathe, your forehead still resting against his. “you know i only have eyes for you, michael.” you smiled softly, pecking the tip of his nose. “always have. always will. those brothers of yours can look all they want, they’ll never have me.”

michael chuckled softly, the tension finally leaving his body. “yeah, well, i don’t like them looking.” michael admitted, his voice dropping low. “especially marlon, he’s got a dirty mouth.”

you laughed softly, cupping his jaw. “marlon’s a shit-talker, everyone knows that. you’re the only one i want, mikey.”

michael nodded, the last of his jealousy fading away as he looked into your eyes. he took a deep breath, then sighted contentedly, wrapping his arms around your waist to pull you closer. “let’s go back downstairs,” he said, resting his chin on top of your head. “i’m sure they’re wondering where we disappeared to.”

you both returned downstairs after a few more calming minutes. the brothers were still by the pool, now joined by randy who’d just arrived. when they saw you both walk out together, the teasing immediately resumed.

“look who finally decided to come back!” marlon called out with a grin. “did you finally get some, mike? you seem less tense.”

michael shot him a death glare but kept his arm wrapped firmly around your waist. “funny. real funny.” he guided you to sit with him on one of the lounge chairs, your back against his chest.

you smiled at marlon sweetly, “actually, yes. your brother is amazing. you should find yourself a good woman instead of staring at other people’s girlfriends.”

marlon laughed, looking away exaggeratedly. “damn, she’s got a sharp tongue.” the other brothers chuckled, knowing marlon deserved it. michael smirked, “that’s my girl” he murmured possessively.

the teasing and joking continued, but michael kept you close, his arm around you all the time. you could tell he was still a bit territorial, but the real anger was gone. when jackie started playing around in the pool, splashing everyone, michael actually laughed.

marlon suddenly dove into the pool, surfacing near you with a mischievous grin. “come on, get in.” he splashed water playfully in your direction. you laughed, standing up from the lounge chair. “oh, you’re on.” you walked up to the edge of the pool and jumped in.

michael watched you with a smile, leaning back on the chair as you and marlon started messing around in the pool. they were just playing, but michael couldn’t help noticing how comfortable you looked with his brothers. you fit in so well with their crazy dynamic.

marlon splashed you playfully, ducking when you tried to retaliate. “come on, princess, let’s see what you got!” he teased, grinning widely. you wiped water from your eyes, laughing. “princess? ill show you princess!” you lunged at him, splashing water everywhere as you both splashed around.

marlon caught your wrist as you splashed at him, pulling you closer with a smirk. “you know, you’re even prettier when you’re mad.” he lowered his voice, leaning in slightly. “ever thought about dating a jackson properly? i could treat you real nice.”

you rolled your eyes, shoving his shoulder. “in your dreams, marlon.”

marlon chuckled, refusing to be deterred. “hey, just saying. michael’s got the temper, but i’ve got the charm.” he winked, making a show of flexing his arms. from the lounge chair, michael leaned forward, his voice carrying across the pool deck. “marlon, keep your charm to yourself before i drown you.”

marlon raised his hands in surrender, laughing as he floated backward. “i’m just playing, mike! damn, can’t a man compliment his brothers girl?” he shot you a wink. “you look better wet anyway, sweetheart.”

you laughed, splashing water directly into marlon’s face. “keep dreaming, marlon.”

marlon wiped water from his face dramatically, then swam closer to whisper in your ear. “but seriously, princess. when this inevitable blow-up happens, you know where to find me.” his hand brushed your waist under the water.

before you could respond, michael was already in the pool, coming towards you and marlon. michael grabbed marlon’s shoulder, his grip tight. “i swear, marlon, if you’re hitting on my girl…” his voice was deadly calm. “i’ll break every bone in your body.” he then looked at you, “baby, come here.”

you didn’t hesitate, swimming away from marlon and straight into michael’s waiting arms. he wrapped them around you securely, glaring daggers at his brother. “keep your hands to yourself,” michael warned him, kissing your temple. marlon held his hands up, splashing water innocently, “i was just playing!”

michael scoffed, pulling you closer. “yeah, right. you’ve been flirting with her since she got here.” he buried his face in your neck, his possessiveness on full display. “i’m not stupid. i can see what you’re doing.”

marlon grinned unapologetically, swimming backward. “and what if i am? she’s gorgeous. any man would try his luck.” he looked at you appreciatively. “those legs, that smile…damn, mikey. you got yourself a keeper.”

michael’s arms tightened around you possessively, but you could tell he was trying not to explode. he took a deep breath, “marlon, shut up and go flirt with someone else. like jackie’s girlfriend. she seems into your smooth talk.”

after a few more minutes of acting like kids in the pool, everyone finally climbed out of the pool. you wrapped yourself in a towel, sitting on one of the lounge chairs next to michael. everyone sat close, drying off and chatting casually. marlon sat closest to you and on your other side.

marlon stretched out on the lounge chair next to you, propping himself up on his elbow. “you know, i bet you look even better without this towel.” he smirked at you, eyes trailing down your body lazily. michael’s jaw clenched so hard you heard it.

marlon reached over and tugged lightly at the corner of your towel. “just a peek, princess? come on”

that’s when michael snapped. he was off the lounge chair in an instant, grabbing marlon by the collar and yanking him up. “touch her one more time with that tiny dick energy and i’ll leave you floating in the pool with a broken jaw.”

marlon laughed, holding his hands up in surrender. he was used to pushing michael’s buttons, but he knew when to back off. “whoa, okay! jeez, you’re touchy about your girl. i was just messing with you.” he grinned mischievously.

michael slowly released marlon’s collar but didn’t look away. “if you ever pull that shit again, i don’t care if we’re brothers. got it?” his voice was low and dangerous. marlon raised his hands, still smirking. “got it, mike. god, possessive much.” he flopped back onto his chair dramatically.

you laughed softly, shaking your head at the two of them. michael kissed your forehead then sat back down, pulling you onto his lap. “ignore him. he’s got no self-control.”

marlon shot back, “me? days the guy who nearly murdered me for complimenting his girl.” michael rested his chin on your shoulder, “you were doing more than complimenting.”

marlon rolled his eyes, grabbing his sunglasses form the side table. “i’m going in to get the rest of them. at least they appreciate my presence.” he sauntered off towards the house, calling over his shoulder, “call me if you get tired of mr. grumpy!”

once the house quieted down and the brothers filtered inside, michael was still angry. he stood up, taking your hand firmly. “come on. upstairs. now.” his tone left no room for argument.

you followed him up the stairs, noticing how tightly he gripped your hand. you reached his bedroom, he kicked the door shut behind you.

michael paced the room, running his hands through his damp hair. he looked frustrated, jaw tight. “i swear, if he touches you again—“ he stopped, turning to face you. “why did you let him get away with it? you laughed it off like it was nothing, as if you liked it.”

you smirked, knowing what game you could play with this. you crossed your arms over your chest, grinning. “maybe i did like it. maybe i liked how he touched me in the pool.” you watched michael’s face darken with anger, exactly the reaction you wanted. “what if i want him to do it again?”

michael stood in front of you, his face inches from yours. he was breathing heavily, his jaw clenched. “don’t test me. you know exactly what will happen if you let him touch you again.” his voice was low and dangerous.

you tilted your head, looking up at him through your lashes. “or what, michael? you’ll hit your own brother? break his jaw like you threatened?” you stepped closer, poking his chest. “maybe i like making you jealous.” michael grabbed your hand, pinning it against his chest. “you think this is funny?”

his grip tightened slightly around your wrist. “you think my possessiveness is a joke?” he backed you up until your legs hit the edge of the bed, forcing you down. “i don’t share. period. and i sure as hell won’t share you with my brother.” he leaned over you, caging you in with his arms.

michael’s breathing was heavy, his eyes dark with jealousy as he hovered over you. “you’re mine. do you understand me?” his voice was rough, desperate. “i can’t stand the thought of anyone else touching you.”

you could feel his anger and jealousy radiating off him in waves. you looked up at him calmly—even though you were anything but calm, you were extremely turned on by the jealous side of him that you had never seen before—a small smile playing on your lips. “prove it then,” you whispered, leaning back on your hands, spreading your legs slightly in a silent challenge. “if you’re so jealous, prove it.”

michael’s eyes darkened further at your challenge. he didn’t hesitate. one moment he was hovering over you, the next his hands were on your thighs, pushing your legs wider apart as he settled between them. his mouth crashing against yours with a fierce, almost punishing intensity.

his kiss was rough, possessive, and demanding—everything you’d teased him about. he bit your bottom lip hard enough to sting, then soothed it with his tongue. his hands roamed your body possessively, gripping your hips like he was staking a claim.

his hands traced over your bikini clad body, rough and urgent. “i’ll remind you who you belong to all night long.” he marked your neck, marking you where everyone would see. “let him flirt with his heart out when you’re walking around with my markings on you.”

michael’s hand slid under your bikini top, his thumbs brushing over your nipples. “these are mine. not his. never his.” he leaned down, capturing one in his mouth through the fabric, the feeling of his tongue running over you made you gasp.

he wasn’t playing games anymore—he was staking his claim loud and clear.

with a sharp tug, he removed your bikini top altogether, exposing your chest to the cool air and his hungry gaze. his hand immediately replaced his mouth, squeezing and massaging your breast possessively. “if he looks at you again, i’ll rip his eyes out.”

he kissed down your body, tugging at the strings of your bikini bottoms with his teeth. “and if you ever say anything like that to test me again, i’ll make you scream my name so loud the whole house hears you.” his lips found your inner thigh, trialing slow, torturous kisses.

you gasped as his teeth grazed the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, your hands tangling instantly in his curls. “is that a threat or a promise?” you managed to breathe out, arching your hips up towards him. “because i think i like making you jealous.” you looked down at him, biting your lip. “fuck me.”

michael growled low in his throat, his eyes flashing with dark possessiveness. “oh, i’m going to fuck you alright. until you can’t remember your own name, let alone marlon’s.” he ripped the fabric of your bikini bottoms aside, not bothering to untie them properly, his fingers sliding through your wet folds. “wet for me already, baby.”

he slid two fingers inside you, you gasped as his fingers pushed inside you, “god yes—“ michael’s eyes darkened as he leaned in, his mouth replacing his fingers. he ate you out with a desperate, possessive hunger, tongue deep, his hands gripping your thighs like you might try to escape. he wasn’t gentle, but he wasn’t rough—he was obsessed.

his mouth was relentless, sucking and licking like he wanted to devour you. his fingers joined back in, curling inside you as his tongue circled your clit. “michael…michael…” you moaned his name repeatedly, your hands gripping the sheets tightly.

hearing his name fall from your lips like a prayer only made him more possessive. he doubled his efforts, adding another finger and sucking harder on your clit. one hand snaked up to cover your mouth as he muffled your loud moans against his palm since his brothers were still downstairs. “shh…quiet, baby.”

you whimpered against his palm, squirming beneath him as he worked you over mercilessly. his fingers pumped faster, hitting that spot inside you that made your toes curl. “that’s it…take it all.” he murmured against your thigh, feeling you clench around his fingers. your hips buckled upwards, chasing his mouth.

“i can’t—“ michael pressed his hand harder against your mouth to silence your broken moans. “yes you can. come for me.” he curled his fingers just right, sucking harshly on your clit, sending you tumbling over the edge instantly. your body shook violently, your back arching off the bed as you came hard against his mouth. “that’s it…” he praised softly.

michael didn’t stop until your tremors subsided, lapping up every drop of your release before pulling away, his mouth glistening. he kissed his way back up your body, hovering over you as he removed his hand from your mouth. you were breathless, chest heaving, “still think jealously is a joke?”

you were panting hard, eyes dazed and lips parted, still catching your breath. your chest rose and fell rapidly as you looked up at him, a lazy, satisfied smile spreading across your face despite the lingering haze of your orgasm.

“mmm…proving a point, baby.” you whispered, reaching up to trace his jaw.

michael caught your hand, pressing a kiss to your palm before moving lower, trailing his lips down your stomach. “point proven.” he looked up at you, eyes dark with hunger again. “now it’s my turn.”

he stood just long enough to strip off his clothes, revealing his body before lowering himself between your legs.

you watched him, biting your lip as he settled between your thighs. he was hard and thick, the head of his dick pressing against your sensitive entrance. he leaned down to kiss you deeply, swallowing any sounds you might make as he slowly pushed inside. “shhh…quiet baby.”

you gasped into his mouth, your nails digging into his shoulders as he filled you completely. he paused, letting you adjust to his size, his forehead pressed against yours. “you feel so good…” he groaned, his hips twitching forward. “so tight.” he started moving slowly, pulling out until only the tip remained before plunging back in deep.

you threw your head back against the pillow, a choked moan escaping your throat as he set a slow, deep rhythm. your legs wrapped tightly around his waist, pulling him impossibly closer. “michael…god…” you whimpered, your fingernails scraping down his back. “please…faster.” you arched your hips up to meet his thrust.

hearing you beg and whimper his name snapped something in him. he grabbed your legs, pushing them back to expose your chest and stomach completely, changing the angle to hit that spot inside you that made you cry out loud.

you bit your lip hard, trying to stay quiet as he pounded into you relentlessly. your thighs trembled around him, your eyes rolling back. “can’t—can’t be quiet—“ you gasped, your back arching off the bed. “feels too good—you’re too deep—“ his grip on your thighs tightened. “i know, baby…”

michael leaned down, his moth hovering over yours as he picked up the pace, each thrust making the headboard bang against the wall. he didn’t seem to care if his brothers heard anymore. “you like this, huh?” he slammed into you hard, hitting that spot inside you over and over. “yes—fuck yes—“

michael swallowed hard, watching you writhe beneath him. your tits bounced with ever thrust, your face contorted with pleasure. he realised something—you were loud as hell when you had sex. like, really loud—he covered your mouth with his hand experimentally, muffling your moans.

you moaned against his palm, the vibrations sending shivers through you. your walls tightened around him involuntarily. “mmph—“ your eyes fluttered shut, overwhelmed by the depth and angle. he removed his hand, replacing it with his mouth, kissing you deeply, swallowing every guttural sound you made.

he broke the kiss, his breathing ragged against your lips as his hips snapped harder into yours. “you gotta be quieter, mama…” he groaned out, though his rhythm didn’t slow down. instead, he went deeper, “they’re downstairs…” he groaned out. “i know—im trying—“

michael suddenly pulled back, his eyes blazing with intense possession. he slipped two fingers into your mouth, pushing them deep as he continued to fuck you. “suck…” he commanded hoarsely, watching your cheeks hollow around his fingers. “keep quiet for me.”

you sucked on his fingers obediently, muffling your moans a little ad he thrusted deeper and faster. tears pricked at your eyes from the intensity, your walls clenching around him relentlessly. “mmph—“ you mumbled around his fingers, your hips meeting his in desperate, hungry thrusts. your orgasm crept upon you unexpectedly, your thighs trembling dangerously.

michael watched you closely, noticing the way your eyes squeezed shut and your jaw clenched around his fingers. he knew exactly what was happening. he spread your legs wider, going even deeper inside you, hitting that spot over and over again as he silently commanded you to come apart around him.

the coil in your stomach snapped violently, your back arching off the bed as you came silently. your walls fluttered and clenched tight around him, your scream muffled perfectly by his fingers buried deep in your mouth. your entire body shook violently, your toes curling tight. “that’s it…” he whispered, fucking you through your release.

michael groaned deeply, feeling your orgasm crash around him. he didnt slow down, determined to chase his own release. his hips snapped harder, faster, his fingers still deep in your mouth as he chased your climax. “come again…for me…” he hissed through clenched teeth, his own pleasure building rapidly.

you gasped for air, your mouth sore from sucking hid fingers as he came down hard inside you. his whole body shuddered, groaning your name against your neck as he spilled deep within you. he collapsed on top of you, breathing heavily, his heart pounding against your chest..

“fuck…” he muttered against your skin, pressing open-mouthed kisses along your shoulder.

you lay there stunned, your body over sensitive and shaking from the intensity of it all. michael’s fingers were still curled inside your mouth as he recovered on top of you. the only sound throughout the whole house was the muffled conversation from downstairs and their laboured breathing.

michael slowly pulled his fingers out of your mouth, watching as you licked your lips, still feeling the ghost of his fingers on your tongue. he pressed a gentle kiss to your mouth as he felt you squirm underneath him, feeling his come leaking out of you.

he rolled off you gently, pulling you into his arms. your body was a mess—hair disheveled, lips swollen, thighs shaking and sticky with sweat and come. he kissed your temple softly. “i’m sorry…i got carried away.”

from downstairs, you could hear the faint voices of his brothers. “mike, you coming down?!”

“two minutes!” he yelled back before getting up and putting on fresh clothes for himself and grabbing you fresh underwear and his oversized tee for you, then getting you a towel. he leans down, softly wiping between your legs, as he comes back up he presses a soft kiss to your lips. “you okay?” he asks softly as he begins dressing you.

you nod your head as you stand up on wobbly legs, attempting to fix your messed up hair.

he watched you closely, making sure you were okay before opening the bedroom door. he stepped out the door, then turned back to offer you his hand.

as you both entered the living room, the chatter died down instantly. all five brothers turned to look at the two of you—michael looking slightly disheveled, your hair messy, lips swollen, and wearing his oversized shirt—their eyes flicked between the two of you, eyebrows raising.

jackie leaned back on the couch, a knowing smirk spreading across his face.

michael tightened his grip on your hand, pulling you closer to his side. he looked at his brothers calmly, his expression neutral. “what?” he asked simply, challenging their stares. he didn’t look guilty or ashamed.

you and michael sat down on the loveseat, his arm wrapping around your shoulders. the silence stretched for a few seconds before jermaine suddenly cleared his throat, his face breaking into a grin.

“oh—oh god, yes” jermaine mimicked, his pitch high and mocking. tito and marlon burst into laughter, echoing the sounds.

jackie joined in, throwing his head back dramatically. “michael…michael…can’t—can’t be quiet—“ he pitched his voice impossibly high, clutching his chest dramatically. “oh, the humanity!”

marlon was practically wheezing, slapping his knee. “i thought the ceiling was gonna come down!”

michael just sat there, letting them mock you both. he didn’t look embarrassed or angry—just amused, trying not to laugh. “you guys are ridiculous.” he laughed out.

you blushed deeply, burying your face in michael’s chest as they continued to laugh and tease you. “i do not sound like that!” you protested weakly, your voice muffled against his shirt. michael just chuckled and kissed your head, enjoying your embarrassment way too much.

— SUMMARY: Michael’s sleeping over at your house for the first time without your family there. You decide to play a game and give him a taste of your favorite lipgloss.

— WARNINGS: sub!mike, fluff, dual loss of virginity, face-fucking, oral, fingering, protected sex, dry humping, premature ejaculation, scent kink (?), reader is a tease, reader is experienced, use of daddy to tease, manipulation (sorta), michael is lowkey a himbo LMAO, dirty talk, pleasure dom reader. jermaine feature.

— WC: 7.7k (let’s all act surprised).

— A/N: Loosely based on this request. Let’s pretend the strawberry shirt he has on in the photo is a pj shirt. Please leave feedback in the comments and don’t forget to like and reblog!