𝚃𝚆: includes strong language, Sexual content, Explicit content.
Readers discretion is Advised
Imagines Between you & Michael Jackson.
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🟠 1988. Kansas City Word Count:1.8k
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Tonight, Michael had a show in Kansas City for his Bad world tour. You had recently designed a new pair of pants for him, knowing he trusted you implicitly as both his costume designer and his wife. Of course, when it came to costumes, Michael Bush held a special place of trust too.
The pants you created were striking, adorned with buckles and straps down both sides of his legs and three badges sewn onto the right side near his thigh. You were incredibly proud of them and eagerly wanted Michael to wear them for tonight's performance.
"Baby, where are my pants? I have to go out soon," Michael called out, stepping from behind the screen. He was already wearing his silver satin jacket but was otherwise in his briefs, pacing around his dressing room.
"Oh, you're not wearing those old ones," you said, excitement in your voice as you pulled the new pair from the rack. "I designed something new for you."
Michael's eyes widened with admiration as he took the pants from you. "Oh, these are amazing. When did you make these?" he asked, holding them against his waist, the fabric accentuating his muscular thighs.
"I've been working on them for a few months," you replied with a proud smile. "Go try them on. I want to see how they look on you."
Michael bit his lip, his eyes twinkling with appreciation. He leaned in and placed a tender kiss on your cheek before heading back behind the screen. You listened intently, the sound of belts and straps clinking as he put the pants on filling the room.
"Shit," Michael muttered under his breath.
Your heart skipped a beat as worry surged through you. "What's wrong?" you asked, trying to keep calm.
"Uh, baby, we've got a problem," Michael said, his voice betraying his anxiety.
"What is it?" you asked, walking behind the cover. Your eyes quickly scanned down his legs, but it was immediately clear the pants fit perfectly, hugging his form just as you had envisioned. However, it was evident there was a much bigger issue at hand.
Michael's face mirrored your concern as he gestured downwards. "It's not the pants," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. You followed his gaze and realized the enormity of the situation. It wasn't about the costume at all, but something far more pressing.
"Michael, now isn't the time for that. I didn't even do anything this time," you said, shaking your head in disbelief.
"Baby, I'm sorry, but you just look too good tonight," he replied, coming closer and squeezing your hips, his eyes filled with undeniable desire.
"You can't go out like that, you know that, right?" you said, pointing out the obvious problem.
Michael nodded, licking his lips. "I've done it before, but I know," he admitted, a sheepish grin on his face.
