alwaysformike

[alwaysformike]

girlll, i am in LOVE w your page already, your so well spoken like i turned ur notifs on SO FAST.

i was wondering if we could get arguing/being mad at michael hcs? ty in advance! 🎀

ִֶָ𓏲࣪ 𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓'𝐒 𝐆𝐎𝐎𝐃 𝐓𝐎 𝐘𝐎𝐔, 𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐓 𝐀𝐋𝐖𝐀𝐘𝐒 𝐆𝐎𝐎𝐃 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐘𝐎𝐔. 🫂༉‧

In which drugs are becoming increasingly prominent in Michael Jackson's life -- needless to say, you're tired of it.

hi, yes, it is i... tati... anywayssss enjoy this guys 💋 ! and also for my requestor, i know u asked for hcs but i've had this idea for soo long.. if u still want hcs tho i got u!!!

warnings; heavy drug mentions. heavy angst, some without comfort but ultimately ends with comfort. michael being a stubborn dick😔

Neverland was dead quiet and empty. The maids had long since left for their off-home housing, chefs retired to their chambers the minute they heard their dismissal, and all was well for Michael Jackson in his fairytale dreams.

He was standing atop a large mountain, a grassy hill with plains of flowers sprawling out before him. A beautiful sight, he turns his head to see his lover admiring it too. You're rolled out onto the grass, little weeds littering your hair, and your milky-covered eyes staring over the hills.

He turns his back, seeing what is behind them.

Down below, way down below was a tiny village.

Citizens talked and chattered, passing through the town square like it was New York. He looks to his right, seeing a cozy cottage and a swing set in the front yard.

That's his house. He knows for sure.

His lover looks up at him, your lips curling down.

"Well then, are you going to just stare and sulk or are you going to come down here?" You smile slyly.

He turns away from the townsfolk and back to the rolling plains of what could've been Italy, or maybe even some quiet spot in Spain. "I do apologize, baby. I was just admiring the life we've built for ourselves."

You chuckle and lay on his chest. "I miss it sometimes, y'know?" He hums confusedly. "The heat of L.A and the city life."

He jumps up. As much as Michael loves his little countryside lifestyle, and would hate to leave it behind, theres nothing he hates more than seeing his girl unhappy. "We can be on the first flight back by tomorrow morning." Your eyes widen as she falls off his chest.

"Oomph!" You too, rise onto your elbows. "What? No no Mike, that's not what I meant. I just miss it. But I love our little life here-- our home is here Mike. Our kids, our friends, they're all here. We can't just up and leave."

He quirks a brow. "Are you sure?"

"Positive." So, with your affirmations in mind he lays back down onto the grassy hills of Italy, watching the view from down below.

All was well, Michael was relaxed and his beautiful black curls framed his face as they entangled with grass below. Until it wasn't. The sound of sniffles hits his ears, and he looks down. You're crying.

Oh god! You're crying! His lover was crying! Your face was puffy and red, swollen with dried tears that had been silently pouring until you just couldn't hold it in. "Nonono, you're crying. Why are you crying? Look at me, pretty girl."

You don't budge, and he reaches out to cup your face into his hands. But suddenly, hes no longer touching you. You fall through his chest like hes a ghost and cradle yourself into fetal position.

Ohmygosh, ohmygosh, ohmygosh.

"Baby?" He asks, attempting to console you again.

But his hand goes through you, like something straight out of his 1997 music video "Ghosts".

Suddenly he's falling, down down down like Alice in Wonderland. His breath became hard and raspy as he attempted to gasp for air. Finally, he lands down with a hard jerk and shoots up, gasping for breath. Darkness fills his vision but the man doesn't notice, too caught up in his mist of confusion and delirium.

Maybe the drugs are becoming too much.

From his left, the sound of sniffing fills his ears.

Wait a second. It all clicks. Michael rushes out of his delirious frenzy and to the side of his wife.

Shaking you panickedly, his hand doesn't go through you.

"Baby. Wake up. Baby. Baby. Get up. Hello?Helloo?? Can you hear me?"

He sighs miserably. This night had turned into a nightmare.

"Baby." Finally, he shakes you so hard you roll off the bed with a loud scream. He cringed back as the sound of your body hits the ground. You're even more panicked now, open and exposed to the cool bitter air pouring in from you two's balcony.

You had once told Michael you hated sleeping in a stuffy room. So since then, he's never let you sleep without at least a window open. Even in the freezing cold winters.

The darkness wasn't helping either. "Mike?" You ask hoarsely. When he doesn't respond, too busy caught up in his own confusion, you ask again more panicked. "Michael?"

Finally, he snaps out of it, quickly realizing he has to be the strong front in this nightmare situation.

"Baby. It's okay, I'm here." You sob again at the sound of his voice.

He helps you climb into bed, over the pillows and covers that fill your space and make it the comfortable heaven is it. But something catches your eye behind Michael, and it sends you even further into a frenzy.

It's an IV drip, halfway full with a milky warm substance that has no warmth for its users. You gulp and begin to cry again. Michaels confused, his brow quirks up and the wheels in his head begin to turn.

What in the hell could possibly have you so worked up?

The room is quiet with small sniffles and sobs, and thats when he hears it.

Веер.

Веер.

Вееер.

Tossing over, be doesn't hesitate to rip the IV cord off his arm and toss it onto his nightstand. You're sniffles slow, down to just small sobs here and there.

Michael envelopes you into his arms, cradling you protectively.

"Michael." You finally croak out.

He shushes you. "Shh, baby, i'm here."

You sobs again. "Yes, but for how much longer?" His heart seems to shatter, and with how quiet it is you must've heard it. It's no secret he was on drugs, if it wasn't the very obvious pill bottles littering the room, it was his ghastly appearance.

Thinning cheeks, not yet thin enough to frame his skeleton but still thin enough to see his sharp and chiseled jawline, his bobbing apple cheeks.

It was only a matter of time before he began to look sickly.

His skinny, slender hands cradle your face, holding you as close to him as physically possible.

You two had talked about the drug usage. In fact, talked about it is an understatement. 'Argued' would be more plausible. It didn't help that both you and Michael were as stubborn as a mule and often clashed during situations like this.

"What I do with my body is absolutely NONE of your concern. This discussion is over." He sayss sharply.

"Not my concern?" You scoff. "Serious? I am your wife. And incase your nitwitted brain can't comprehend that, your business is my business."

"I will not debate this topic with you no more. / hate when women try to tell me what to do. If you don't like it, leave it. But I am who I am and clearly you cant accept that."

Your eyebrows raise at the honesty. And, in any normal circumstances, you would've found it increasingly difficult to hold back your salty tears. But not a single tear even swelled in your eye, you were so angry it was killing you.

"Y'know what? I want a divorce. I'm tired of this Michael. You think you're so high and mighty because you're the Michael Jackson and what you do doesn't affect others but truth is, some nights when you're knocked out on propofol l sneak downstairs and sleep on the couch." Your admission makes his eyes widen in shock. His eyes harden and he almost starts spitting out anything he could to get out of this situation.

You cut him off before he even starts. "You wanna know why? Because most nights, I can't sleep. The V drip runs and runs and the cords tangle into the bed, I can't sleep knowing you're not asleep, you're in a coma. And I'm tired of it."

He shrugs carelessly. In any other circumstance, Michael would be on his hands and knees begging for your forgiveness. But drugs? Drugs were the one thing he had. The one thing that could never betray him. He couldn't let that go.

"Then leave then."

You scoff, bewildered at his carelessness. "You're willing to give away your marriage for drugs?"

"You said it not me."

"No Michael, you brought this upon yourself. I love you and I will always love you but I cannot live like this. In this house where oxygen tanks litter each room. So y'know what? You wanna use, use! But the least you could do is own that shit! And, new rule, no more wasting my time!

Stop saying you'll quit when you know you'd rather take a bullet to the head than have to be off drugs."

Luckily, the argument ended in a heavy makeout session and Michael being weaned off drugs and sober for 2 years.

2 years of your life where you saw that little Jackson 5 boy back in him. 2 years where you didn't have to sleep on the couch or worry about entanglement in V drip cords.

You stand up, your legs hurting and the ghost of soberity far behind. "I'm leaving." You croak out.

His eyebrows shoot up.

"What?"

"I can't live like this anymore, Michael. Either you quit or l quit and I take the kids. I'm done. Either you stop or it's over."

He gulps. It's now or never. Luckily for him he's had a change of heart in the past two years.

Michael nods, curls bouncing. "I'll stop. I promise. I want to be better, I want to get sober."

He's serious, you can tell. And, if it wasn't obvious by the deadpan look on his face, it was by the way he turned over, pushed the V drip away from him and knocked all the pill bottles off his nightstand.

"We'll see." You toss over and bring the blankets back over your body. Your breathing slows and you're nulled into the warm embrace of sleep--only this time its full of love and warmth. Before your consciousness slips, you feel a warm arm slip over your hips and plush lips kiss your cheeks.

You two would make it through this. You always did.

masterlist

@michaelsfavgirl @mj4eva @mjj-nostalgia @stillovrit @angeline-cake

[alwaysformike]

new post coming tonight???? told yall im back... this might be one of my cutest ones.. EVER.

masterlist

[alwaysformike]

Hi Tati!! How have you been? How’s life so far?

Hey sweets!!! I'm good, im finally back! It definitely felt good to take a break. Ive been posting on my tiktok recently, @mikesfavgirl if anyone is interested. Its good to be back 😌

[alwaysformike]

to my dearest first love,

it has been 15 years since you left us but it still feels like yesterday.. i may have never gotten the chance to see you in real life but my love for you runs deeper than you can imagine. you were the root of my being afterall.

wherever you may be, whatever you may be doing, i hope you’re happy, safe, warm, and full of love. i miss you dearly and i love you, angelface. thank you for everything you’ve done. i hope i get the chance to meet you in the next life <3

oh, and happy world vitiligo up there!

sending you many hugs and kisses.

(240625)

[alwaysformike]

It's been 15 years since Michael sadly passed away. There's not a day that I don't think about him or how life would've been if he would still be. His children would've never suffered after their poor father's death. I hope that he knows how much we still love him more than anything and that we'll always defend him. Michael saved me more than anybody could've. I had a time when I was depressed and even suicidal. I tried to kill myself many times but the thought of never being able to see his beautiful smile, hear his cute little giggles or admire his angelic voice kept me back from doing the worst decision of my life. There was one particular night when I was thinking that was it for me. I had my phone laying on my bed and I stood up from my bed, ready to take as many pills as I could so I would overdose. But just as I stood up a video started playing on my phone. A video of Michael. It was a short sequence from the interview he did in 1993. I didn't even touch my phone yet that video started playing. I couldn't do it anymore...I sat back down on my bed and cried for a little before feeling the relief of not doing what I intended to. If it wouldn't have been for Michael I wouldn't be here now. We all love you Michael and we'll never forget about you.

[alwaysformike]

can i request where reader and michael are in rome in 1988 for the bad tour and they go to a museum on a little date and end up getting a little riled up in public because of michael's tedious tour schedule that prevents them from having any "sex time"?

ִֶָ𓏲࣪ 𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐄𝐍𝐒 𝐈𝐍 𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐄, 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐘𝐒 𝐈𝐍 𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐄 🫐༉‧

in which tedious tour schedules force sweet sighs of bliss to fill the sound of people-filled museums.

content warnings: public sex, fingering, p in v, fem! reader, MICHAEL BEING SO SEXY???!

my first request omg??!!! 😣 okay anyways enjoy mls

THE SPRINGTIME AIR OF MAY FILLS YOUR NOSE, DRENCHING YOU IN A WARMTH NEVER FELT BEFORE. Cars zoom past, blowing your hair into your face. Your hand, wrapped thinly around your lover, squeezes.

You are glad people in Rome know how to mind their business, save for the couple of people that clearly don’t get the memo; you and Michael are alone for a reason.

Though, you will admit, you couldn't be sure if the feeling of eyes staring at you in every direction were any better than the constant clicking of paparazzi cameras.

"Well, my love, where to next?" The voice rings through your ears, sending that funny feeling to your tummy again. You blush slightly, ducking your head.

You and the former Jackson 5 member are out for a day on the town, exploring all there is to see in Rome. This, you think, may be the best part of Michael's fame; being able to tour the world with your love.

"Hm," you hum. Of course, it had its downsides, like the schedule that made it almost impossible to see him. "I heard there is a museum just a way down, perhaps we could go there?"

He grins down at you. "The fact you think you even have to ask is blasphemy."

There it was again, that fluttering feeling in your stomach that just would not go away. The two of you make your way down to the Museum, hands still interlinked like chains.

As you walk, it is impossible not to stare at him. Him, with his curly black hair fanning around his face. Him, with his dark eye's cautiously observing as you two cross the street.

It is a crime that you have became so lucky, a sin that he has ended up with you of all people. Because, truly, he was a piece of art that deserved to be in the Museum. Him, with his sharp and chiseled jaw, his lanky but tall figure, his long seductive fingers.

Him.

It is so unfair, the way he floats so gracefully, dancing around with a small quirk of his lips. Your breath catches in your throat.

"Michael." You whisper feebly. The museum was just up ahead, you could see the line following out through door.

"Hm?" He half-heartedly answers. His attention is on moving you through the crowd of people and into the Museum. No lady should stand in line for that long especially not his.

Your throat goes dry and suddenly words have escaped from your list of skills. Your brain, fuzzy and now blank. He pauses in his step, waiting for you to say something. Michael turns, looking at you . Your eyes are staring up at him, those big round eyes that could have any soldier fall to his knees and retreat in seconds.

He was the soldier and the heart was his battlefield.

"Doll?" He questions. It is unlike you to be so quiet, typically yapping about anything that remotely catches your interest.

Your breath hitches. You two are now inside the Museum, statues and paintings lining each wall. "Mike," you whisper. "Something is wrong."

It does not take more than a millisecond for Michael to have you in his arms, hugging you tightly. He cannot help but to worry. "Has something upset you, is the museum too small, was the line too long?" He is throwing questions after questions to you.

Your brain is still fuzzy and woozy, but you mange to peep from his arms and stare deep into his onyx eyes. "Michael, listen. Something is wrong with me."

That does not help. You are back in his thick arms once more, and he is questioning you again. You peel from his arms one last time. You glance up at him, then to his long and vein-covered fingers. Had he always been so sexy? Stupid question, of course he had.

There was something about not seeing him for weeks on end unless it was on stage that made you so feral, so weak in the knees. If it was possible, he looked so much more handsome. Small eyebags rested underneath his eyes but it did not take from his beauty, only added.

You realize now that you sre utterly fucked.

"Michael. Bathroom." You croak, nodding towards the restroom. In seconds the two of you are shoving into the family one and the door is locked behind you.

Michael is frowning, but you can tell he is slowly starting to understand your dilemma. "Need you," you whine out. A smirk unravels onto his face.

"Oh," he nods in understanding. "This is what had my pretty girl all worked up." You agree desperately, hands roaming his t-shirt covered chest.

His fingers wrap around your thighs, picking you up and setting you on the sink. Within seconds his lips are hungrily fighting yours. They dance, a tango of dangerous lust. His hand comes up to hold your jaw, forcing your mouth open so his tounge can slide into your mouth.

You grunt into the kiss. He pauses, pulling away. "Patience, love." You whimper at that, grinding onto the sink.

You would look back and cringe at that, you were sure, but for now, you were desperate. So utterly desperate for anything. You can feel a pool begin to clog your lacy panties. His fingers wander down, they are snakes that slither their way to your garden of eden. Your breath comes out in panted huffs as the snakes constrict your thighs, squeezing with a pain so lustful.

"Michael." You beg. "Please."

"Well, if you insist." He rolls his eyes, bringing his breath closer to your heat. In seconds, the snakes that were once his hands is now his tongue, twisting and twirling around your aroused clit.

You moan, hips rolling against his face. Your hands are white from gripping the sink. He pulls away lustfully and you whine. "Not enough."

He frowns, wiping his face off. "You really are the prettiest idiot, hm, doll? You really think i'm that cruel as to leave my sweet baby so needy, all alone?"

Your doe-eyes peak up at him, and they shine with words you will not say; "but mike, you would do that."

Michael Jackson was infamous for teasing. It'd be no surprise for him to leave you in the dust once again. But after weeks, almost months, of barely seeing him, you know he needs it just as bad as you do.

His mouth is back on you now, and its twisting and twirling everywhere you need. He sucks on your clit, holding there for a couple seconds. Your voice is resonating through the restroom, and reaches it's peak when he pinches your clit with his long fingers.

It hurts so good, and you whimper once again when he pulls away. He chuckles cruelly, turning you into the sink so you can see your fucked out face. Your pigtail braids with bows, now messily drenched with sweat.

"Mike, hurry." You whine.

"God," he groans, unbuckling his fancy pants. "You're so fucking needy. My little needy girl."

He's shoving inside you in a mere second, no room for preparation. It hurts, his thick and veined cock just being pushed into you; though, you don't wuite mind.

Your pretty eyes roll back. Hes moaning into your ear and it's all too much—not seeing him, being so public, your smeared lipstick from all the smooching.

Pleasure hits you like a wave on the ocean, your toes curling in your pretty little mary-janes, hands white from gripping the sink. You feel your orgasm push over you and he presses your cheek into the mirror, letting you watch how his hips snap vigorously into you.

The raw and slutty sound of him over-stimulating you until he finally releases with a grunt is overpowering.

You spend a couple minutes cleaning up. "So good for me, lady-bug. Good girl." He whispers to you sensually, his big hand cupping your cheek.

The two of you exit, eyes widening as the sight of a line fills your vision. A woman is in front of you, her face pulled back in both anger and digust.

"Get a room!" She mutters. As you two walk away, giggling, she yells again. "And not the restroom!"

You and Michael make eye-contact, giggling once again and continuing on your museum date—though you spend the rest of it limping—.

masterlist

[alwaysformike]

i wanna request but just wondering if you have any rules before so?

hi ml thank uuu for asking !!! no i dont really have any 💪 i may make a request rules later but as of rn no!

[alwaysformike]

guys pls request cause idk what to write 😓

[alwaysformike]

I’m sorry, did you say kicked out of a friend group for being too in love with Mike?

Hahahaha what the fuck

Well you’ve come to the right place because we’re all just a little insane here

Chat yes 😭😭 who do they think they are omg???

glad i can join the insanity 💪💪

[alwaysformike]

ִֶָ𓏲࣪ 𝐒𝐍𝐀𝐑𝐊𝐘 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐈𝐄𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐒🫐༉‧

when a nosy and hateful interviewer attempts to woe michael by tearing you, his fiance, down, he must show her that you are not to be tested.

chat i'm cooked this is my first michael ff 😔💪 i actually hate this tho 😓

jk in all seriousness heyyy pyt, how u doin love? content warnings : fingering, public and risky sex (ish?), suggestive content, bitchy interviewers, michael being TOOO FINEEEE

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐆. it filled the room, worming the void of sound into every inch of the space. you sigh, desperate for someone to speak, for someone to fill the emptiness.

of course, it was your choice to come with michael to his interview. but, in your defense, this one was definitely different! it wasn't like you had never been to one with him before, but this one seemed to have something tense in the air.

michael, your fiancé, was hunched over a table. his hand ghosts the paper, signing off on which questions he allows to be asked. if it wasn't for the unyielding stare on you, you may have stayed like that for the rest of the night. just simply observing your love.

you look up, eyes darting around. they land on your starer, a lady. a clipboard in her hands, she is glaring at you. your eyes crinkle in confusion. her lips quirk up into a seductive smirk as her green, cat-lined orbs dart to michael.

it is then, you realize, that she is trying to say what her mouth will not. you attempt to wave this off by raising a arched brow and looking her up and down. she snickers to herself coldly. michael looks up, wandering what the noise is but she has already gone back to writing on her clipboard. the two of you make eye contact, and you shrug at him.

something was off with this woman.

you try to understand, perhaps she was just simply a fan.

but in the deepest corner of your mind, you can't unsee the way her lips turned up into a cruel smile. the way she seemingly mocked you, glowered at you.

the interview has started. you only came, thinking you'd be off to the side to watch. but the lady from earlier, ( sofia, as you've learned ) insists that you join. michael argues her suggestion at first, but when you see her taunting grin, you can't help but agree.

you stare at her, eyes daring for her to try something.

she clears her throat. you can tell she's up to something. her introduction is long-since over and she's ready to ask questions. "michael, i've seen you've brought your lovely fiancée here with you today. so, how did you two meet?" she exaggerates the word 'lovely', eyes batting at michael much more sweetly than they were to you.

he launches into the story of how you two met, specifically at the 1984 grammy awards. its a long story, one he's told far too mant times. you zone out, hands fiddling with your lacy skirt. your squint your eyes, desperately observing sofia. you try to make out her face as she smiles fondly at michael.

"right, love?" he asks you. you're too busy watching how sofia's face changes, how her eyes go dreamy and then snap back to a startling glower at you.

"huh?" you realize he had been speaking to you. "oh right! um. what was the question again?" you smile shyly. he grins, his eyes going up.

"anyways, back to you, mr michael." the interviewer points out. "if you could change one thing about her, what would that be?"

oh.

it finaly clicks what she's doing. you gawk at her in disbelief and then pull your face back disgustingly. lucky for you, michael is not stupid. he sees the pointed looks sofia has thrown to you, sees the puzzling looks you throw back.

all hell would break loose if he wasn't being filmed right now. quickly thinking, he points out how far you are from him. "little one, come closer. you're so far." he scoots your chair closer to his, throwing a small smirk at sofia. "back to the question, nothing. absolutely nothing."

you blush slightly and look back towards your snarky interviewer. her face has flushed red in embarrassment, her plan seemingly backfiring. "of course, mr jackson." his hand wanders to the small in your back, gently rubbing.

you are glad the table is there to cover the way your hands fiddle in your lap, attempting to wave off his affection. she continues on with her insufferable questions, each one meant for michael himself. she never seems to pay much mind to you, until her gaze is steady on you.

michael has moved his hand down to your hip, and you can tell sofia has began watching his actions towards you. this time, it is you who is smirking.

"mr. jackson, as much as we all adore the happy couple, may i suggest we leave affection for the bedroom?" she chuckles, thinking she must've cracked him up with the way his lips turn up into a smile.

what she misses, however, is the cheshire appearance to it.

"thank you for that lovely advice, however i think i'm more than welcome to touch my fiancée." his hand is lowering, and you gulp.

"well yes, mr. jackson. just simply a recommendation." she tries to play it off with a bat of her eyelashes, grinning seductively at him.

you feel heat rush to your face and something has snapped. "we only take recommendations from people that actually matter to us, thank you."

the room is silent, her face flushing up once more with embarrassment. michael, whose wandering hand is now on your thigh, squeezes tightly.

"of course." she mumbles, trying desperately to hide the roll of her eyes.

she continues on with her questions, never once addressing you or even looking your way. you resist the urge to grin with pride.

the hand on your thigh is moving downwards, and you are glad the table is there to hide it. he's hiking your mini-skirt up, hand sliding between your legs. the heat, once in your cheeks, is now in your stomach.

your teeth tug at your lip, desperately attempting to hide the up-coming whimpers and pleas.

you heard it here folks, michael jackson was an utter tease!

his hand gently rubbed your inner thigh, just mere centimeters from where you needed him most. though he nodded along to the questions and answered when necessary, you could see his mind was elsewhere.

your eyes float back over to sofia, and you hear her throw another quip to you, a small one that would typically go unnoticed, but you caught it.

you always did.

but you resist the urge for gasp when his slender fingers finally make contact with your clit, rubbing slow and painful circles. you look up, your eyes watching how he's smirking knowingly.

oh, so he knows what he's doing.

you want so desperately to whine and beg for him, but he knows you all too well. he looks down at you, eyes meeting yours and presses his fingers into your clit.

all in once, hes pinching and rubbing your clit. massaging it in fast circles that seemed to never end.

you were close and he had barely even touched you yet. then his fingers were pushed inside, going in and out at a rate faster than you could comprehend. you were sure someone would notice soon, and bit your lip as you tried to push his hand away discreetly.

he simply pulled his fingers out and slapped your hand away. then he was back in, going faster and deeper than before. moans threatened to escape at any given point.

and then it happened, the coil in your tummy breaks and you're letting go. juices seep over his hands. he grins wildly, playing it off as though he was laughing at one of her jokes.

but her eyes look over to you, brows furrowing in confusion. you reach over, simply knocking her clipboard off the table.

"oops," you shrug. she leans down under the table to grab it, and looks up. his finger is still in your puffy pussy, hand dripping in your aroma.

she come back up, her face twisted in anger. this time, it is you who smiles sweetly at her with batting eyelashes.

that is how the rest of the interview goes. her glaring at you both now, not just you. michael catches on, a smile dancing on his lips the entire time.

the interview is over. she's cut it short. whether because she was too angry to continue talking, or because she looked as though she may faint.

the three of you stand up. "thank you so much for coming, you two. it was definitely a pleasure." she keeps things cold and curt.

"you as well, ms sofia." michael smiles charmingly at her, reaching over to grab her hand and press a kiss against it. you curl your face back into shock, brows raising in rage. it is then, however, you notice that he has grabbed her hand with his own sticky, mess filled hand.

she looks down, presumably realizing this two and drops his hand like it's the devil's book of lies.

"well, i certainly hope you had fun. i know i sure did." you say to her, rosy-lips pulling up into a charismatic smile.

masterlist

tags:

[alwaysformike]

HI!! it’s nice to meet you, tati! can i just say, your friends are so weird for kicking you out of the friend group for liking michael, like why does that bother them so much ✋🏼😭

SO REAL CHAT 😭😭 LIKE WHAT?? they kept shitting on him and got mad when i got mad knowing how much i love him... like girl what?? anyways hii ml thanks 4 being my first ask on this account 😣

[alwaysformike]

ִֶָ𓏲࣪ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ִֶָ🫐༉‧

𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐓𝐒 , 𝐁𝐋𝐔𝐑𝐁𝐒

snarky interviewers and wandering hands

- when a nosy and hateful interviewer attempts to woe michael by tearing you, his fiance, down, he must show her that you are not to be tested.

sfw alphabet

- not published

what happens in rome , stays in rome

- in which tedious tour schedules force sweet sighs of bliss to fill the sound of people-filled museums.

what's good to you, ain't always good for you.

- in which drugs are becoming increasingly prominent in michael's life -- needless to say, you're tired of it.

𝐌𝐘 𝐀𝐒𝐊𝐒 / 𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐓𝐒

ask away, pyt!

- requests

none yet

scream

- rant posts

none yet

tell me all about it, susie!

- miscellaneous asks , questions etc

friend group troubles 🙄

more on the way :)

[alwaysformike]

ִֶָ𓏲࣪ 𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐄 𝐓𝐎 𝐌𝐘 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐆 ִֶָ🫐༉‧

hey pretty young thang! how are you love? i'm tati and welcome to my michael jackson centered blog!

𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐞

- i've been writing for about five years now, and i've been a moonwalker basically my entire life now. my father (passed in 2022) was the biggest mj fan everrrr. i still have a video of me, aged maybe six or seven, singing "heal the world" with my minnie mouse ukulele.

however, i will say that despite growing up with michael, i was never really involved in his fandom. in march 2024, i began to look more into his death and i spent about a week researching it out of pure curiosity.

that research led me to mjtok. i have since made an editing account and have been kicked out a friend group for being too in love with michael, ahem ahem.

back to the topic of writing, i've been writing since 2019. this is also a secondary tumblr account, as i have another one that i haven't posted on in months... #livelaughlove.

anyways, that's enough about me :)

for anonymous asks, please choose an emoji for me to identify you so i dont get my anons mixed up. thank you 💪.

ps. i have a life.

𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞’𝐬 𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐢?!

tiktok , mikesfavgirl

wattpad , seriouslytati

my other blog , tatisbooks

thank you for reading :)

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