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𝝑𝑒 ────────𝗚𝗘𝗧 𝗬𝗢𝗨𝗥 𝒞𝗔𝗥𝗡𝗜𝗩𝗔𝗟 ℱ𝗔𝗜𝗥 𝗧ℐ𝗖𝗞𝗘𝗧 𝗛𝗘𝗥𝗘. ᜊ ๑ ۪ ࣪ 𝖾𝗋𝖺: 𝟣𝟫𝟩𝟦 𝗌𝖾𝗍𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀. 𐔌𝓢ummary ͡꒱: "I lost my heart on the carousel to a circus girl..." ♥︎ 𝑤𝑐; 𝟒.𝟖𝒌. 𝒯hird person pov. ๑ mentioning of readers hair, the reader has curls , reader is a woc. but everyone can read. it's friendly for everyone. and cameos of Katherine.
ⓘ 𐔌𝓒𝓸ntent ͡꒱: friends to almost lovers , carnival romance , first love , coming of age , mutual kindness , heavy yearning , missed timing , no happy ending.
The carnival arrived without ceremony.
By Monday afternoon, trucks had already begun lining the edge of an empty lot a few streets beyond the neighborhood baseball field, their faded paint carrying the dust of towns no one in Encino had ever visited. Men unloaded steel beams beneath the California sun while children gathered along the chain-link fence, balancing on the lowest rails to watch pieces of another world assemble themselves one bolt at a time.
By Wednesday, the Ferris wheel had risen above the rooftops. By Friday evening, the lights blinked awake together, turning an ordinary stretch of dirt into something that looked as though it had wandered there by mistake. Families came first. Teenagers followed.
The music carried farther than anyone expected, drifting through open bedroom windows long after supper had ended. It mixed with the scent of buttered popcorn and caramel, finding people before they had decided whether they intended to go.
Michael lasted three evenings. On the fourth, curiosity quietly won. He borrowed a baseball cap from one of his brothers, tugged it low over the curls of his afro and left the house before anyone could ask too many questions. The walk took little more than fifteen minutes. He knew the neighborhood well enough to reach the fairgrounds without thinking, though each step slowed as the lights grew brighter ahead, as if some part of him wished to make the anticipation last a little longer. The entrance buzzed with familiar sounds.
Children pulling impatiently at their parents' hands. Coins rattling against ticket booths. Someone winning a prize large enough to draw applause from strangers. A calliope melody circled endlessly around the carousel, disappearing beneath laughter before beginning again.
For the first hour, he wandered. He watched a little boy insist he was tall enough for a ride everyone knew he wasn't. A pair of sisters argued over which horse on the carousel ran the fastest despite neither horse ever moving farther than the other. Near the ring toss, an elderly man spent nearly ten minutes trying to win a stuffed bear for his wife, who laughed every time another ring bounced harmlessly away.The carnival seemed built upon small victories.They mattered enormously for exactly five minutes.
Then another one appeared around the corner. The cotton candy stand stood beside the carousel. Children reached it before they reached anything else.The machine spun without rest, wrapping strands of pink and blue sugar around paper cones while music drifted lazily overhead. Every few moments another burst of laughter rolled across the midway, followed by the creak of painted horses beginning another slow circle beneath the lights.
She worked behind the counter. Soft curls had escaped whatever attempt she'd made to gather them away from her face, catching the glow of the bulbs strung above the booth. Her sleeves remained folded neatly to her elbows despite the warmth pouring from the spinning machine. Every order seemed to arrive with the same patient smile, whether it belonged to a child barely tall enough to see over the counter or a tired father carrying two balloons and a sleepy toddler on one shoulder.
Business slowed only when a little girl wandered up alone. She couldn't have been older than five. One hand clutched three coins so tightly the edges had already left faint circles across her palm.The girl emptied them carefully onto the counter. "I'm... um..." Her eyes drifted toward the price board. "...I'm short." The words barely reached above the music. The woman behind the machine counted the coins anyway. Not because she needed to. Because the child had. She gathered them into her hand before looking toward the spinning cloud of sugar.
"I think you're right." The little girl lowered her head. "But..." A smile returned. "...I also think I made this one too big." She lifted an already finished cone from beside the machine, its pink swirl leaning slightly to one side as though it had grown too quickly. "I can't sell one that's crooked." The girl looked from the cotton candy to the woman and back again. "Really?"
"I'd get in trouble." She leaned forward conspiratorially. "You'd be helping me." The little girl accepted it with both hands. "Thank you." Then she ran. Not because she was in a hurry. Because children rarely walked anywhere happiness could carry them. The woman watched until she disappeared into the crowd before returning the three coins to the cash drawer as though the transaction had happened exactly as it should have.
no announcement accompanied the gesture.The next customer stepped forward.The machine continued to spin. Some acts of kindness were so quietly done that they slipped into the rhythm of the evening without asking anyone to remember them.
Michael remained where he was, the line moving around him almost without his noticing. It reminded him of home. not of fame, rehearsals or television cameras, but of the house before breakfast, where Katherine would always see the smallest things first: a loose button, an empty glass, a child pretending not to be hungry so someone else could have the last biscuit. She had never made those moments seem remarkable. They belonged to ordinary days. Perhaps that was why this one stayed with him. By the time he reached the counter, he'd forgotten to decide whether he wanted pink or blue.
She smiled. "Looks like you've been thinking awfully hard." He laughed under his breath, a little embarrassed. "I guess.. i have."
"So..." She rested one hand lightly against the wooden counter. "Which color's winning?" He looked at the spinning sugar. Then back at her.
"...Could I have both?" A grin spread across her face before she turned back to the machine. "I had a feeling you'd say that." For reasons he couldn't have explained, hearing that pleased him far more than it should have.
She worked with practiced hands.The paper cone turned slowly between her fingers while thin strands of sugar gathered around it, changing from pale blue to pink with the simple pull of a lever. It looked effortless, though the children watching from the front of the counter regarded it with complete amazement, following every movement as though they were witnessing a magic trick rather than melted sugar spun through warm air. She held it out. "There you go." Michael accepted it carefully. "It looks better than everyone else's."
"I'm not supposed to have favorites."
"But you do." She tilted her head, pretending to consider it. "...well, maybe." The corners of his mouth lifted. He thanked her, stepped aside, and nearly walked straight into a little boy racing toward the carousel with a balloon tied around his wrist. The balloon slipped free. It climbed into the evening sky before either of them could react. The boy froze. For a second, he only watched it disappear.
Then the tears came, it wasn't loud or dramatic, it was the quiet sort children made when they were still deciding whether something could be fixed. Michael looked upward.The balloon had already become a dot against the fading blue. He glanced toward one of the game booths instead. Rows of balloons hung there in every color imaginable, swaying gently whenever the breeze reached them. A minute later, the little boy stood clutching another one.The game operator smiled without explaining where it had come from.
The child looked around, searching for the stranger responsible, but Michael had already drifted back toward the cotton candy stand, taking a determined interest in the paper wrapped around his cone.The balloon bobbed happily behind the little boy as he ran back toward his parents. (Name) saw the whole thing. Not because she had been watching him. Because she rarely seemed to miss what happened around her. "You've been here before." Michael looked up. "What..makes you think that?"
"You know exactly where the balloon booth is." He laughed. "I guessed."
"You guessed correctly."
"I got lucky." She leaned one elbow against the counter. "I don't think so." There wasn't an accusation in her voice. Only amusement. Another family stepped forward, ordering four cotton candies all at once. (Name) apologized with a small smile before returning to work, her hands never slowing as she reached for fresh cones and another scoop of sugar. Michael nodded as though she'd asked permission.
He wandered away. At least... that had been the intention. Ten minutes later, he found himself standing only a few booths away, watching an elderly couple argue over whether they were too old for the bumper cars.The husband insisted they weren't.The wife reminded him his knees disagreed.He laughed so hard she glanced over instinctively.Their eyes met across the midway.
She smiled. He looked away first.
The evening settled comfortably into its own rhythm. Children grew bolder after sunset.
Parents stopped checking their watches quite so often.The Ferris wheel turned against a violet sky, each carriage glowing softly as it climbed above the fairgrounds before disappearing again behind the trees. Somewhere near the entrance, a saxophone player had begun entertaining the growing line with melodies older than most of the people listening.The line at the cotton candy stand finally disappeared.
She stretched both arms overhead before reaching beneath the counter for another bag of sugar. It caught. She pulled once.Then twice.The heavy sack refused to move. Michael had crossed the distance before thinking. "Can I..." He hesitated, one hand already half-raised. "...help?" She looked over her shoulder. "I don't think customers are allowed back here."
"I can pretend not to be one." A laugh escaped before she could stop it. "It pays terribly."
"I can live with that." She studied him for a moment. More as though deciding whether he could be trusted with something unexpectedly important.
Then she stepped aside. "All right." He slipped behind the counter.The space felt much smaller from this side.Children appeared even shorter. The machines sounded louder.The scent of warm sugar lingered in the air, sweet enough to settle into clothing. He gripped the sack with both hands and lifted it easily onto the shelf beside the machine. She blinked. "...Well."
"What?" She blinked again. "I've been wrestling with that thing all afternoon." He smiled shyly, brushing invisible sugar from his hands. "There are advantages to having five brothers."
"I imagine there are also disadvantages."
"Oh..." He laughed softly. "Definitely." For a moment, neither of them spoke.The silence wasn't uncomfortable. It simply settled between them while another carousel song drifted across the midway. She folded the empty paper bag she'd been holding. He looked toward the children circling on painted horses. "You like watching them." It wasn't really a question. She followed his gaze.
"I think they're the happiest people here."
"They probably are."
"They don't worry about tomorrow." He nodded. "No."
"They only worry about whether they'll get another ride."
"And whether the blue horse is faster than the white one." She looked at him. "You saw that?"
"I've been here longer than I planned." A smile spread slowly across her face. "I noticed." His ears turned warm. "Oh." She hadn't meant to embarrass him. "You've been very good at pretending to look at everything except this booth."
He laughed into the sleeve of his jacket, ducking his head with the kind of quiet embarrassment only fifteen year old Michael Jackson could manage. "I didn't think it was that obvious."
"It was." A beat passed. Then she added, gently—"...I'm glad you stayed." For the first time all evening, Michael couldn't think of a single thing to say. The carousel continued its endless circle behind them, children calling to parents below as the horses rose and fell to music that had been playing for hours. He looked down at the cotton candy that had long since begun to sag in the warmth of the night, smiled to himself, and decided it didn't matter that he'd forgotten to eat it. There suddenly seemed to be far more interesting things to do than finish dessert.
The evening settled into the quiet that always arrived before closing.The longest lines had disappeared. Parents began gathering jackets from the backs of benches while children negotiated for one last ride with remarkable determination, each promise of five more minutes
stretching into ten before anyone thought to object. Somewhere near the entrance, a worker lowered the volume of the carousel music for the first time since sunset. The melody remained, only softer now, blending with the distant hum of generators preparing for another night. The cotton candy machine finally stopped.
Steam curled lazily into the cooling air before disappearing altogether. She wiped the last traces of pink sugar from the counter with a damp cloth while Michael gathered empty paper boxes into neat stacks beside the stand. Neither of them had spoken much during the past hour. They hadn't needed to. Every so often she'd ask where something belonged, and he'd carry it there without another question. The work grew lighter with two people instead of one. Children passed the stand on their way toward the exit, many of them no taller than the counter itself. One little girl lifted her arm high above her head. "Bye, Miss (Name)!" She looked up immediately. "Goodnight, sweetheart." Another child followed. "See you tomorrow!"
"I'll be here." A boy carrying a stuffed lion nearly twice his size waved so enthusiastically he almost lost hold of it. "Night, Miss (Name)!" She laughed softly and waved back. "Sleep well." It happened over and over again. Different faces. Different voices.The same goodbyes. each child seemed entirely certain she would be standing behind that counter again tomorrow evening, exactly where they'd left her. Michael watched the last family disappear through the entrance gates before reaching for another folded box.
"You know...all of them." The words left him so quietly they were almost carried away by the breeze.She smiled without looking up from the counter she was wiping. "They know me." There was a difference. One she never tried to explain.
a small pair of footsteps came hurrying back across the midway.The little boy with the blue balloon had returned. He stopped in front of the stand, breathing hard from running. "I forgot." She leaned forward. "What did you forget?" He reached into his pocket and carefully placed a single wrapped peppermint on the counter.
"My grandma says you should always thank nice people." Before either of them could answer, he turned and sprinted back toward the parking lot where his parents were already waiting.The peppermint remained where he'd left it. She looked at it for a long moment before smiling to herself. "I think I made twenty dollars tonight."
Michael looked toward the little sweet. "And one peppermint." She nodded. "I'd say I came out ahead." He laughed quietly. The sound disappeared into the emptying carnival almost as quickly as it had arrived.
By now the midway belonged mostly to workers. Games were covered with canvas sheets. The ring toss bottles disappeared into wooden crates. Somewhere beyond the Ferris wheel, someone began tightening ropes against the night breeze while another called out tomorrow's schedule across the grounds.The carnival never truly slept. It just became quieter.
She folded her apron carefully before hanging it on a small hook inside the stand. The curls that had escaped throughout the evening had fallen farther around her face now, catching the last warm glow from the carousel lights. She tucked one behind her ear without thinking, then reached for a lantern resting beneath the counter. "I should lock up." Michael nodded. He had known this moment would come. Still... he wasn't ready for it. He picked up the last empty box, though there was nowhere left to carry it.
9 minutes later.
the last of the lights above the game booths disappeared one by one. Only the carousel remained awake, turning slowly through another empty song while workers crossed the midway carrying folded canvas beneath their arms. The laughter that had filled the grounds all evening had drifted toward the parking lot, replaced now by quieter sounds—the scrape of wooden crates across packed earth, the click of locks settling into place, the distant murmur of people finishing long shifts before another town and another morning.
She fastened the latch beneath the counter and tested it once with her hand. Satisfied, she reached for the lantern. Its small flame painted warm circles across the wooden boards as she stepped around the side of the stand. Michael followed almost without thinking. Not close enough to crowd her. Only near enough that, if she stopped walking, he would too. They wandered between rides that looked strangely different without children. The carousel horses had become still, each frozen mid gallop beneath rows of quiet lights. The Ferris wheel no longer reached for the sky. It waited patiently against the darkness, enormous and silent, as though it had grown tired after carrying hundreds of people through the evening. Workers passed them every so often. Most offered her a smile. One older man tipped his hat before disappearing toward the trailers. Another reminded her not to forget breakfast in the morning.
She answered each of them by name. It occurred to Michael that this wasn't simply where she worked. It was where she belonged. The thought settled somewhere inside him with a weight he couldn't quite explain. She stopped beside the carousel fence, resting the lantern on one of the painted posts. For the first time that evening, there was nowhere left to tidy. Nothing left to carry. No child searching for a parent. No spilled popcorn to sweep away. Only the quiet that arrived after everyone else had gone home.
"I think that's everything." He nodded. "I think so too." The words disappeared into the night.
as they reached the edge of the midway. Beyond the entrance, the road disappeared into quiet neighborhoods where porch lights had begun going out one by one. The carnival remained awake behind them, though only barely. Somewhere in the distance, someone laughed inside one of the trailers before a door closed softly against the night. "You really should head home."
Her voice carried the same kindness it had all evening. "Your mama's going to wonder where you've disappeared to." He smiled, lowering his eyes for a moment. "She probably... is." The thought made him laugh quietly to himself.
Katherine never scolded first. She worried first. Then she scolded.
he slipped his hands into the pockets of his jacket, though neither of them seemed ready to take that first step toward saying goodnight. The silence lingered comfortably between them, neither awkward nor heavy, as though the evening had simply slowed enough for both of them to notice it. She shifted the lantern into her other hand.
"I'll see you tomorrow, Michael."
Hearing his name in her voice caught him off guard. it sounded different now that the carnival had emptied. Smaller. More personal.
He looked at her for a moment before smiling. "You remembered.." A faint smile touched her face. "You've been helping me all evening." As though forgetting would've been impossible. He laughed softly. His gaze drifted briefly toward the trailers standing quietly beyond the Ferris wheel. A few windows still glowed warmly against the darkness. Someone had hung laundry beneath an awning before nightfall, and it swayed gently in the breeze. It looked peaceful.
When he looked back at her, she was still waiting. Patiently. He hesitated. Not out of uncertainty. Out of respect.
His mother had raised him to leave people more gently than he'd found them. He stepped forward, slowly enough that she had every opportunity to move away if she wished. She didn't. He reached for her hand instead. Carefully. His fingers barely closed around it, warm from carrying the lantern. For the smallest moment, he simply held it there.
Then, with all the quiet courtesy that seemed to belong to another generation, he lowered his head and pressed a gentle kiss against her knuckles. It lasted no longer than a heartbeat. A thank you.
Nothing more. When he looked up again, she was smiling. Not surprised. Only... touched. warthm had risen softly into her cheeks. "Goodnight, Michael." His smile grew almost shy enough to disappear.
"...Goodnight, (Name)." The way he said her name made it sound as though he'd been quietly repeating it to himself all evening, afraid he might forget it despite knowing perfectly well he never would. He turned reluctantly toward the road. She remained where she was, lantern glowing between her hands, watching until he reached the entrance gates. Only then did she call after him.
"Don't stay up too late." He turned around, walking backward for two steps with a grin. "I'll try."
"You won't." He laughed. "No..." He admitted. "I probably won't." She shook her head, smiling to herself as he finally disappeared beyond the gates. The lantern remained lit for another minute before she turned toward the trailers.
Michael walked home far more slowly than he'd walked there. The sweetness of spun sugar still lingered faintly on his jacket. Every now and then he caught himself smiling without knowing exactly why, replaying little pieces of the evening that already felt oddly precious—the little boy with the balloon, the carousel music, the way she tucked one curl behind her ear while counting paper cones, the sound of children calling her name as they left.
He wondered whether she had already finished locking the stand. Whether she had reached her trailer. Whether she was asleep yet.
Tomorrow wasn't very far away. He had no reason to believe it would be any different from today. And perhaps that was the happiest thought he'd carried home in a very long time.
Sleep came reluctantly. The carnival had followed him home. It lingered in the faint scent of spun sugar that refused to leave his jacket after Katherine hung it by the kitchen door, in the carousel melody that found its way into his thoughts while he brushed his teeth, in the memory of colored lights drifting lazily above the midway long after he closed his bedroom curtains. He woke before the alarm.
for a few moments he remained where he was, staring at the ceiling while morning light crept quietly across the room. Somewhere downstairs, dishes touched softly against one another as breakfast was prepared. One of his brothers laughed at something he couldn't quite make out, followed by the familiar sound of Katherine asking someone to come to the table before everything got cold. Ordinarily, he would have stayed.
breakfast was never hurried in their house. It was one of the few moments everyone belonged to the same room before the day carried them in different directions. this morning, however... his thoughts had wandered elsewhere before his feet ever reached the floor.The carnival wouldn't be busy this early.
She had mentioned mornings. Supplies. Preparing the stand before families arrived. Perhaps she would appreciate another pair of hands.The thought settled comfortably enough that it no longer felt like an excuse. It felt reasonable. Katherine looked up when he entered the kitchen.
"So early?" Michael smiled sheepishly. "I thought I'd go for a walk."
"A walk before breakfast?"
"I'll eat when I get back." She studied him for only a moment. Mothers often knew when questions weren't likely to produce honest answers. She reached across the table instead, smoothing the front of his shirt where one button had slipped into the wrong place. "There." He glanced down. "I didn't even notice."
"I know. honey." She smiled. "Have a nice walk." The morning air carried none of the excitement that had filled the previous evening.The streets remained quiet, interrupted only by sprinklers ticking patiently across front lawns and the occasional newspaper landing against a driveway somewhere in the distance. Sunlight rested gently across the sidewalks, warming the pavement long before anyone had begun filling it. Michael walked a little faster than usual. Not enough to call it rushing.
Enough that he caught himself smiling more than once without any particular reason.
He wondered whether she'd already unlocked the stand.
Whether she'd laugh when she saw him arriving so early.
Perhaps she'd tease him for ordering both colors before noon.
He rehearsed little pieces of conversation without realizing it, only to abandon each one before reaching the next street corner. None of them sounded quite right. the fairgrounds appeared at the end of the road.
Something felt different. It took him several moments to understand what it was.
The music.
There wasn't any.
He slowed. The Ferris wheel should have been visible above the trees by now. It wasn't. His pace slowed again. Perhaps they had turned the lights off during the day. That made sense. He kept walking.The chain-link fence came into view... there was only grass. He stopped.
The field stretched quietly beneath the morning sun, empty enough that it almost looked untouched. Pale circles pressed into the earth marked where heavy rides had stood only hours before. Tire tracks crossed the dirt before disappearing toward the highway, already gathering dust beneath the warmth of the day.
He remained where he was.
Certain he had taken the wrong road. He looked left. Then right. The baseball field stood exactly where it always had.The old oak tree remained beside the entrance. Even the faded sign pointing toward the parking lot hadn't moved. Only the carnival had. He stepped through the open gate. He frowned.
Another few steps.The carousel. Gone, he kept walking. Faster now. the gravel parking lot still marked by fading tire tracks. He stopped so suddenly the gravel shifted beneath his shoes. The field stretched quietly beneath the morning sun.
No rides.
No ticket booth.
No trailers.
No music.
Only flattened grass and pale circles pressed into the earth where heavy machinery had rested through the night. For a long while... he simply stared. his eyes wandered across the field as though they refused to accept what they were seeing.
The cotton candy stand had been there.
He knew it.The carousel had stood a little farther behind it.The Ferris wheel had cast its shadow across the grass sometime after sunset. He remembered every step he'd taken. Every corner they'd turned. Every place she'd smiled.The field offered nothing back. "No..." His voice barely reached beyond himself.
He stepped through the open gate. One pace, then another one and again. Soon he was walking quickly, his head turning from one side of the field to the other with growing urgency. The place where the trailers had stood. Empty. The path she'd taken carrying the lantern. Gone.
He crossed toward where the cotton candy stand had been, stopping exactly where he remembered the wooden counter. His shoes rested on flattened grass.Nothing else. He looked around again. "They wouldn't..." The words caught in his throat. "They wouldn't leave..." Not after saying she'd be there. Not after tomorrow. Not after—A truck rumbled slowly along the edge of the lot.
Michael hurried toward it. The driver leaned an arm out of the open window, looking at the young man standing alone in the middle of an empty field. "You alright, son?"
Michael opened his mouth. Nothing came out. He tried again. "There was..." His voice trembled. "...the carnival."
The man nodded. "Sure was." Michael glanced back across the field. "...Where is it?"
"They packed up around midnight." The answer came so casually. As though it happened every week. As though there had been nothing remarkable about it at all.
Michael blinked. "...Packed up?"
"Traveling carnival." The man offered a sympathetic smile. "They don't stay in one place long." Silence settled between them. Michael's fingers curled tighter around the peppermint inside his pocket. "...Do you know where they went?"
"I heard Bakersfield."
"Bakersfield..."
"Think that's the next stop." Michael nodded once. It happened automatically. "...Thank you." The truck rolled away. He watched until it disappeared beyond the road. Only then did he look back toward the field.
Bakersfield. He whispered it once beneath his breath.Then again.Trying to hold onto something that suddenly felt impossibly far away. The breeze stirred the grass around his feet. A torn strip of pink paper skipped across the ground before catching against the fence. He stared at it. His breathing had become uneven. He reached into his pocket and took out the peppermint.
The wrapper had been warmed by his hand during the walk. He turned it over slowly between his fingers. She had smiled. The children had waved goodbye.
"I'll be here."
She hadn't lied. She couldn't have. She simply... had to leave. Something inside him gave way. His shoulders folded first. Then his head. The peppermint slipped from his fingers into the grass without him noticing.
He covered his face with both hands.The first sob escaped before he had the chance to stop it. It startled even him. Another followed. Then another.
The empty field offered no comfort, no explanation, only silence stretching endlessly around him while tears slipped between trembling fingers and disappeared into the sleeves of his jacket. he cried the way only fifteen year olds sometimes do—without dignity, without restraint, as though the heart had not yet learned that some losses were supposed to be carried quietly.
Minutes passed. Or perhaps only seconds. He couldn't have said. When he finally lowered his hands, his eyes searched the field one last time.
Not because he expected to find her. Because some small, stubborn part of him still hoped he had simply missed the stand.That if he looked once more... she'd be there. Smiling. Ready with both colors.
The field remained empty.The wind rolled gently through the flattened grass, erasing the last traces of footprints left by children who had laughed there only the night before. Michael bent slowly, picking the peppermint back up from the ground. He brushed away a few blades of grass with his thumb.Then held it carefully in his palm all the way home. He never unwrapped it.
He didn't know her last name. He didn't know which company she travelled with. He didn't know where Bakersfield was, exactly.
Only that fifteen minutes had been enough to find her yesterday. And this morning... they weren't enough anymore.
. ⊹ 🍮🥄 ៹ ݁ How kissing & life would be with 1976 bf braces michael!
݁ ˖Ი𐑼⋆let’s talk about 1976 michael! becoming completely obsessed with the fact that you both have braces. not in a weird way—he just thinks it's the cutest thing he's ever seen. he catches himself smiling every time you laugh because the little flash of silver reminds him that he isn't the only teenager dealing with sore teeth, broken brackets, and being told not to eat caramel every other week.
he notices everything. the way you subconsciously cover your mouth when you laugh too hard. the way you refuse to smile in photos until he tells you to stop hiding. eventually he starts smiling with his teeth on purpose whenever you're around, hoping you'll realize neither of you has anything to be embarrassed about. after you've been dating for a while, kissing becomes less scary than either of you expected. there are still the occasional tiny bumps of metal that make both of you stop for a second before laughing, foreheads resting together while michael quietly mumbles, "we're gettin' better at this."
he likes that it's something only the two of you understand. nobody else gets why the two of you randomly grin at each other after orthodontist appointments, or why he immediately notices when you switch the color of your bands. he definitely notices. every single time.
sometimes he'll spend half of rehearsal distracted because you've changed from pink to red. and when someone jokingly tells you you'd both look "so much better" once the braces come off, michael almost looks offended on your behalf. because, honestly? he doesn't think they take anything away from you.
if anything, he thinks they make your smile even sweeter. he'd probably miss them a little once they're gone, not because he likes braces themselves, but because they'd become part of this little chapter of growing up together. something only the two of you shared. years later, he'd still laugh whenever he'd find an old polaroid of the two of you, all afros, bell-bottoms, wide smiles, matching silver brackets catching the sunlight without either of you caring anymore. <3
whenever he kisses you. at first he was so careful, stopping every few seconds because he was terrified of bumping your brackets or hurting you. now he just naturally knows how to tilt his head, how to move a little slower, how to smile against your lips when you accidentally laugh halfway through. it's become something only the two of you understand. sometimes you'll pull away after a kiss with the tiniest click of metal, both of you freezing for a second before dissolving into quiet laughter. michael always laughs first. not because it's embarrassing, but because somehow every awkward little moment feels special when it's with you.
he starts finding reasons to kiss you more often than necessary. before rehearsal. after rehearsal. when you hand him his jacket. when you tell him goodnight. sometimes just because you smiled at him from across the room.
he'll lean in like it's the most natural thing in the world, one hand tucked into the pocket of his flared jeans while the other gently cups your cheek, smiling into the kiss because he already knows you're smiling too. he secretly loves that your braces make you both slow down.
there's no rushing. no dramatic movie kisses. just two teenagers learning each other a little more every day. and every now and then he'll pull away only an inch, forehead resting against yours, looking at you with the biggest grin. "...still not tired of kissin' me?" you'll shake your head before he can even finish asking. he smiles even wider. "Oh you pretty girl." then he kisses you again anyway. not because he needs to. just because he can.
later that night, lying in bed, he'll catch himself touching his own braces while thinking about you. it makes him laugh, realizing the thing he'd once been so self-conscious about has somehow become one of his favorite reminders of being seventeen, because every memory attached to those silver brackets somehow includes you.
. ⊹ 🍮🥄 ៹ ݁ How kissing & life would be with 1976 bf braces michael!
݁ ˖Ი𐑼⋆let’s talk about 1976 michael! becoming completely obsessed with the fact that you both have braces. not in a weird way—he just thinks it's the cutest thing he's ever seen. he catches himself smiling every time you laugh because the little flash of silver reminds him that he isn't the only teenager dealing with sore teeth, broken brackets, and being told not to eat caramel every other week.
he notices everything. the way you subconsciously cover your mouth when you laugh too hard. the way you refuse to smile in photos until he tells you to stop hiding. eventually he starts smiling with his teeth on purpose whenever you're around, hoping you'll realize neither of you has anything to be embarrassed about. after you've been dating for a while, kissing becomes less scary than either of you expected. there are still the occasional tiny bumps of metal that make both of you stop for a second before laughing, foreheads resting together while michael quietly mumbles, "we're gettin' better at this."
he likes that it's something only the two of you understand. nobody else gets why the two of you randomly grin at each other after orthodontist appointments, or why he immediately notices when you switch the color of your bands. he definitely notices. every single time.
sometimes he'll spend half of rehearsal distracted because you've changed from pink to red. and when someone jokingly tells you you'd both look "so much better" once the braces come off, michael almost looks offended on your behalf. because, honestly? he doesn't think they take anything away from you.
if anything, he thinks they make your smile even sweeter. he'd probably miss them a little once they're gone, not because he likes braces themselves, but because they'd become part of this little chapter of growing up together. something only the two of you shared. years later, he'd still laugh whenever he'd find an old polaroid of the two of you, all afros, bell-bottoms, wide smiles, matching silver brackets catching the sunlight without either of you caring anymore. <3
whenever he kisses you. at first he was so careful, stopping every few seconds because he was terrified of bumping your brackets or hurting you. now he just naturally knows how to tilt his head, how to move a little slower, how to smile against your lips when you accidentally laugh halfway through. it's become something only the two of you understand. sometimes you'll pull away after a kiss with the tiniest click of metal, both of you freezing for a second before dissolving into quiet laughter. michael always laughs first. not because it's embarrassing, but because somehow every awkward little moment feels special when it's with you.
he starts finding reasons to kiss you more often than necessary. before rehearsal. after rehearsal. when you hand him his jacket. when you tell him goodnight. sometimes just because you smiled at him from across the room.
he'll lean in like it's the most natural thing in the world, one hand tucked into the pocket of his flared jeans while the other gently cups your cheek, smiling into the kiss because he already knows you're smiling too. he secretly loves that your braces make you both slow down.
there's no rushing. no dramatic movie kisses. just two teenagers learning each other a little more every day. and every now and then he'll pull away only an inch, forehead resting against yours, looking at you with the biggest grin. "...still not tired of kissin' me?" you'll shake your head before he can even finish asking. he smiles even wider. "Oh you pretty girl." then he kisses you again anyway. not because he needs to. just because he can.
later that night, lying in bed, he'll catch himself touching his own braces while thinking about you. it makes him laugh, realizing the thing he'd once been so self-conscious about has somehow become one of his favorite reminders of being seventeen, because every memory attached to those silver brackets somehow includes you.
when you're requesting. 𑣲 no smut or very dark or weird themes. But suggestiveness (like make-outs & more.) will be present in some of my works. do not, copy, repost as your own, or plagiarize any of my works. TAGLIST.
𝖬𝖨𝖢𝖧𝖠𝖤𝖫 𝖩𝖠𝖢𝖪𝖲𝖮𝖭.
𓂃 oneshots , headcanons , drabbles , smaus , & series. all of michael !
ONESHOTS.
pyt. pt.2
tlc.
break of dawn.
give in to me.
let the light in.
❤︎. more to come.
HEADCANONS.
thoughts. baby daddy michael.
❤︎. more to come.
DRABBLES.
comfort.
hottie in sunglasses.
playing with michaels hair. request ♡
baby daddy michael.
divorce with michael.
❤︎. more to come.
SMAU'S / TEXTS
lovers rock.
❤︎. more to come.
SERIES.
hopeless romantic. still going on
❤︎. more to come.
𝖩𝖠𝖠𝖥𝖠𝖱 𝖩𝖠𝖢𝖪𝖲𝖮𝖭.
𓂃 oneshots , headcanons , drabbles , smaus , & series. all of jaafar !
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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૮◞ ‸ ◟ ა drug dependence michael. lets elaborate on what finally starts breaking their marriage? it isn't the arguments. it isn't even the dependency, not at first. it's the lying.
because michael has always hated letting you see him struggling, always convinced himself that if he could just get through one more rehearsal, one more tour, one more week, he'd tell you 'after'. after he was better. after he'd figured it out. after he wasn't disappointing you anymore.
except 'after' keeps moving further away, and suddenly your husband starts locking bathroom doors. spending forty five minutes behind them with the tap running. disappearing into bedrooms halfway through family dinners because he has a "headache." sleeping with the door locked, which he has never, ever done before. and every single time you ask if he's okay, he smiles that same tired smile, kisses your forehead, and says, "just exhausted, angel."
except exhausted people don't flinch when you accidentally walk into the room. they don't hide little orange bottles in jacket pockets. they don't jump every time someone knocks on a locked door.
you start living in this awful space where you know something is wrong but can't prove it, and somehow that's even lonelier than knowing. because the man you've loved for years is standing right in front of you, holding your face in his hands, telling you he's fine....and your heart is screaming that he isn't.
the truth doesn't come from him, either. it comes from finding a prescription bottle tucked behind folded shirts while you're putting laundry away, your own name catching in your throat because you don't even recognize the doctor's name on the label. your hands shake so badly you nearly drop it. maybe there's an explanation. there has to be. there's always an explanation.
he comes home an hour later carrying flowers. he sees the bottle in your hand. and everything stops. "michael..."
he doesn't answer. "tell me what this is." his eyes fall to the floor. "it's nothing." nothing??? the word actually makes you laugh. because that was fucking unbelievable. "don't ever lie to me." your voice breaks. "please don't lie to me." He can't even look at you. "m' not lying."
"Look me in the eye and telling me it's nothing." he sighs. "it's just medication."
"for what?" he waits too long. too long. "i've been havin' trouble sleepin'." another lie. ૮◞ ‸ ◟ ა you know it's a lie before he even finishes saying it. because wives know.
they know when their husbands are smiling too much, they know when hugs become shorter, they know when "I'm okay" starts sounding rehearsed. "look at me." he can't. "look at me." slowly, he does. his eyes are so tired. so frightened. and for a second you think he's finally going to tell you the truth..."you're makin' this into somethin' it isn't." He lies again.
your heart breaks so quietly you almost don't notice it, and not because of what he's hiding. because he still thinks he has to hide it from you
that night, you hear the bedroom door click shut. then the lock. you stand outside for a long time. hand resting against the wood. "michael?" he doesn't answer. "please open the door." still no word. "i'm not angry." still no word. your forehead rests against the door. "i'm just scared."
on the other side, he hears every word. he slides down until he's sitting on the floor, back against the door, knees pulled to his chest like somehow making himself smaller will make the guilt smaller too. his hand lifts. he almost unlocks it. almost..
but instead, he whispers so quietly that only the empty room hears him, "i'm sorry." because that's the tragedy of it all. he keeps shutting the door because he thinks he's protecting you from the worst parts of himself.
never realizing...you're standing on the other side of it, wishing he'd just let you carry some of the weight with him.(◞‸◟)💧
𝙖𝙡𝙤𝙙𝙞𝙚'𝙨 𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙚𝙨. ౨ৎ i'll be making more of these and a fic, stay tuned and please take care of yourself <3
I LOVE your works smm, but I was wondering if you could do Thriller era Michael and reader who is eager for his touch but Michael is too busy talking on the landline to Quincy soo.. reader gives him a blowjob while hes on the phone 😃??
I LOVE THIS ASK ND U *KISS* *KISS* i’ll keep this in mind! I don’t take request but i genuinely looooveee this 😋, thank you so much anon much love (˶>⩊<˶) (˶>⩊<˶)
Michael shut the office door a little harder than he meant to.
The laughter downstairs carried through the walls anyway. Someone had started another round of "Happy Birthday," though half the kids had already abandoned the song in favor of yelling over each other.
The music from downstairs dulled instantly. Michael didn't even look at you. Instead, he crossed his arms and stared out the window like he'd been personally wronged by the sun. You sighed. "Really?" still no answer. "Michael." Still nothing. "Oh, so we're doing the silent treatment now?"
"I have nothin' to say." You blinked. "Then why did you drag me in here?" His jaw flexed. "I didn't drag you."
"You literally grabbed my wrist."
"I guided you." You laughed once. "You're so unbelievable."
"So are you."
"What does that mean?" He finally turned. "What does it mean?" He gestured toward you. "You're wearing that."
You looked down at your dress. The black one.
The one that hugged your waist just right, dipped a little lower in the back, and had earned the nickname 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙠𝙞𝙨𝙨 𝙢𝙚 𝙝𝙖𝙧𝙙 𝙙𝙧𝙚𝙨𝙨 years ago, because every single time you wore it, Michael couldn't keep his hands off you.
Back when he was your husband. "It's a dress, Michael..get over it."
"It is not just a dress."
"It absolutely is." He scoffed. "You know exactly what dress that is."
"Oh god."
"You wore it on our anniversary in Paris. You wore it when we renewed our vows, goodness.. you wore it when i couldn't stop makin' love to you."
"That was eleven years ago." His face twisted. "You don't have to remind me miss." Your lips pressed together. "You don't get to tell me what I wear anymore."
"I know."
"But you're acting like you do."
"I know."
"So what's the problem?" He looked away. His voice came out quieter. "I don't like other men looking at you."
Your face slightly softens. "...Michael." He looks up. "I don't."
"You lost that privilege." You said with no empathy. "I know." He laughed bitterly, rubbing the back of his neck. "Believe me, I'm painfully aware." The tension softened.
You hated when his voice did that. That tiny crack. That little glimpse of the man you'd built fifteen years of your life with. "You looked..." He searched for the words. "Beautiful."
Your heart jumped. "I couldn't stop noticing." His gaze dipped "You weren't supposed to." You tease.
"And every man downstairs was looking at you." You folded your arms. "Were they?" He shot you a look. "Don't do that." A smile tugged at your lips. "Are you jealous?"
"No." He said fast. "look at me...michael." and he did. "I'm irritated." You roll your eyes. "That's jealousy."
"It's different."
"It really isn't." He groaned dramatically, dropping into your brother's desk chair. "I hate this."
"What?"
"Being divorced." Your smile faded. "I hate that I can't walk over and put my hand on your waist." He looked at the floor. "I hate that I have to pretend it doesn't bother me." Another beat of silence. Then, from the hallway— "uncle applehead?"
Both your heads snapped toward the door.Your brother's oldest son. Cameron, muffled voice came through.
"Auntie (name)? Uncle bryan said we're taking a family picture." You and Michael exchanged a look.
He stood, straightening his jacket. "You still drive me crazy," he muttered.You smirked. "Oh, I know."
"...You wore that dress on purpose." you bite your lips. "I did." His eyes widened. "You are evil." You grinned all the way out the door. "And yet..." You glanced over your shoulder. "...you married me."
He couldn't even argue. He just shook his head with the tiniest, most lovesick smile. "Cameron..tell uncle bryan we're a little busy 'kay?"
ᯓᡣ𐭩.ᐟ ⊹
he murmured, his hand brushing your cheek. "Let Daddy take care of his girl, hm?" His words made your heart skip and your thighs clench around him as he lined himself up with you.
The first slow push had you gasping. He was still stretching you inch by inch after all this years, your nails pressing into his back as he moved carefully.
"O-oh sooo good," he groaned, burying his face in your neck. "Still so tight—So warm, baby.." Your breath hitched, eyes fluttering shut as your body adjusted to the feeling of him...so big, filling you so deeply you couldn’t think.
"You’re doing so good, sweetheart," he whispered, kissing your shoulder as he bottomed out. He stayed still for a second, letting you breathe, his hand still holding your waist, his touch grounding. Then slowly, he began to move. Your moans were soft at first, breathy and needy, hands gripping onto his back like it was the only thing grounding you.
But then he started to go deeper. His hips snapped forward harder, more purposeful, and your sounds shifted, whimpers, then moans, broken and high-pitched.
He groaned low in your ear, his pace steady but rough, his large hands locked tight around your waist. "Y-you feel that, mama?" he rasped, eyes dropping down between your bodies.
You blinked through the pleasure, dazed and flushed, until you followed his gaze, and your breath hitched. There. A faint bump rising under the skin of your stomach every time he drove into you.
"Look at that," he muttered, voice full of awe. "You feel me here, huh, sweetheart?" Your lips parted, no words coming, just a shaky moan as he flattened his palm over the bulge. You trembled under him as he pressed down, and your body clenched tight around him.
"Shit," he hissed, "You’re so Beautiful, mama. Can y'feel every inch of me?" You nodded frantically, tears almost pricking your eyes from how full you were, from how deep he was.
"C-can’t believe I’m this d-deep in you," he growled, thrusting up again, and again, letting his hand stay firm on your stomach while your fingers gripped the sheets. "Taking it so well f’me. My perfect girl." Michael's hotel room was filled with the sound of skin against skin, the wetness between you obscene and constant, your voice breaking into gasps as he kept pounding into you.
You moaned louder and louder, he brought his hand down between your legs, fingers finding your clit with ease.
He started circling, slow and firm, and it was like your entire body shutdown. "C’mon, let go f’me," he murmured, lips grazing your temple. "My pretty lady." It only took a few more strokes of his fingers, perfectly timed with the deep thrusts of his hips, and your body tensed underneath him.
a loud moan broke from your throat as you came hard, everything pulsing, your walls fluttering around him, your thighs shaking uncontrollably.
He groaned at the feel of it, hips stuttering slightly, hands tightening around your waist to steady you through it. You barely had a moment to breathe before he pulled out and flipped you onto your stomach.
still trembling from your orgasm, you blinked up at him over your shoulder, dazed. He was already stroking himself at the sight of you like this. Face down, ass up, skin flushed and glistening. He leaned over and kissed the base of your spine, both hands caressing your ass as he lined himself back up. "Y-you can give me one more for Daddy, yeah?"
You were already nodding, dazed and needy. His large palms smoothed over the curve of your ass before he gave a sharp, affectionate squeeze.
You whimpered into the pillow when he slipped back inside, deeper now somehow, your body so sensitive. He bent forward over your back, mouth brushing your shoulder. "You’re so good to me..mmh.." he praised, hips rolling into you harder.
"I miss you mama,.. i dont deserve you." Your fingers clawed at the pillows as your body rocked with his rhythm, a fresh wave of pleasure building fast, hotter, messier.
He slid a hand around your waist, fingertips finding your clit again, rubbing soft circles that made your legs tremble. "mmhhm!!—mikey!" you whimpered, body arching as his hand kept moving so deliciously. "Close, sweetheart?" murmured in your ear, his voice hoarse, strained. "shit, m-me too…" you nodded frantically, barely able to form words. "Y's-so big.. i missed you daddy—M’so close!"
"I’m gonna make you a mommy," he whispered, voice gravelly in your ear. "Fill you up just right—watch you carry my baby, yeah?" Your whole body jolted at his words, the sound of them shooting straight to your core.
You nodded uncontrollably, thighs clenching, the pleasure unbearable now, building fast and out of control. "Daddy—m’gonna—ahh!" you moaned, voice breaking into a high-pitched moan as the wave finally hit you.
Your body shook violently, hips jerking, and then it happened, your climax crashing over you so hard, you couldn’t stop the gush that followed, soaking everything beneath you. "yesss atta girl, so good mama," he hissed, watching it happen under him.
The sight alone was enough. His thrusts faltered and his grip on your waist tightened almost bruisingly. "s-shitttt, I’m gonna cum—shit—" With a final, deep groan and whimper, he buried himself to the hilt and came inside you, cock pulsing as he spilled every last drop into your still twitching cunt.
He flipped you over, and shoved his mouth onto yours, kissing you hungrily, his hand cupping your jaw. You both lay there for a long moment, chests rising and falling in sync, the quiet only broken by your mingled breaths.
His forehead rested against yours, eyes half lidded and soft as he murmured, "I missed you so damn much baby..divorce sucks, I’ll buy you the pill in the morning, okay?" you smiled sleepily, brushing your fingers gently over his cheek. "I missed you more angel, its okay." you whispered, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to his lips.
A few minutes passed, and then Michael shifted, letting out a long exhale before resting his head against your bare chest, his arms lazily wrapping around your waist like he never wanted to let go. You threaded your fingers through his hair without thinking, letting your nails lightly scrape over his scalp in slow, soothing motions. He let out a quiet hum, almost like a purr, before speaking—voice lower than before, like a secret he hadn’t meant to say aloud. "Would you like to get on tour with me again, love? i miss you so bad."
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. ⊹ 🍮🥄 ៹ ݁contains: sexual themes, blowjob, soft!dom bad michael. fem!reader & use of ! nicknames. Michael loves teasing you, lwk fwb (m! receiving.) ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ໒꒱
݁ ˖Ი𐑼⋆ bad era!michael who notices you've never really dated anyone and becomes way too invested in fixing that.
1988'
it starts after a group dinner when everyone keeps talking about their first kisses and their first time getting down on someone.
you stay very quiet and michael noticed that. later that night you're both sitting on the hood of his car outside Hayvenhurst, sharing food from a drive thru bag while the radio quietly plays in the background.
he nudges your shoulder. "You got real quiet back there, lady." You shrug. "Didn't have anything to add."
"...Why?" Another shrug. "...Never kissed, or got down to anyone." He slowly lowers a fry. "...You're serious?" He scans your face. You immediately regret saying it. "Forget it."
"No, no." He turns to face you completely. "You've never been kissed?" You shake your head, already embarrassed.
"I just... never cared that much." He studies you for a second, chin resting on his hand. "Don't look at me like that."
"I'm not lookin' at you any way."
"You are."
"I am not." Michael laughs, throwing his head back. "I ain't judgin' you, pretty lady."
"You totally are. Young man." You tease. "I'm jus’ surprised." You roll your eyes. "Ugh mike, shut up." 𐔌՞ ܸ.ˬ.ܸ՞𐦯 He shakes his head, smiling to himself. "I just figured... I dunno."
"What?" You ask curious. "Somebody would've beat me to it."
Your eyebrows pull together. "...Beat you to what?" He freezes. "...Nothin'." The fact he has the nerve to be shy after saying that. "Michael...what do you mean?"
"Nothin' pretty lady, don’t worry."
A few minutes pass before he casually says—"I could teach you both."
You almost choke on your soda. "I'm sorry?"
"You heard me." He chuckles. "No, I definitely didn't." You almost choke again. He grins behind his sunglasses, even though it's literally nighttime.
"I said I could teach you."
"You've lost your mind."
"C'mon."
"No."
"Why not?"
"Because you're my best friend!"
"So?"
"Sooo best friends don't…do that stuff."
"...Since when?"
"Since forever!"
He shrugs like you're the unreasonable one. "I think you're makin' up rules." You stare at him. "I am not kissing you."
"Didn't say you had to."
"I said I could help."
"That's the same thing."
"It's educational."
"Oh my goodness Michael."
"You gonna let some random dude be your first kiss and get down him?"
"...Eventually?"
"What if he's terrible?"
"I can take that."
"But what if he ain't patient?" You don't answer. Michael knew what you did there. His smile softens just a little.
"You'd get nervous, hm?"
"...maybe."
"You'd pretend you weren't."
"...maybe, yeah."
"And then he'd rush you." You look away. He sighs. "I wouldn't, pretty lady." That catches your attention. His voice is quieter now. "I'd wait..whenever you’re ready, I’d wait." The air suddenly feels different.
You look down at the paper cup in your hands. "...You're doing that thing."
"What thing?"
"Making everything sound reasonable." He laughs. "Is it workin'?"
"...A little."
"I knew it." He hops off the hood and walks around until he's standing in front of you.
"No pressure."
"You literally just spent ten minutes pressuring me."
"I spent ten minutes presenting evidence."
"You'd make a terrible lawyer."
"I'd make a great teacher." You roll your eyes so hard it makes him laugh. "...okay, one kiss…and you learn me how to give a blowjob?," you mumble.
His grin immediately gives him away. "So you agreed." You look away shyly. "Don't sound so excited." He laughs. "I'm not!"
"Oh you are."
"I'm happy you're trustin' me." He steps closer, suddenly much gentler than before. His hand comes up slowly, giving you plenty of time to move if you want. "You really want this, pretty?"
"...Yeah." He bites his lips. "Cute."
"..Michael."
"Sorry." He's smiling, but softer now. "Just... don't think so much." Easy for him to say.
The second his fingers brush your cheek, your heart starts racing. "I don't know what I'm doing," you admit quietly. "I know, m’lady and that’s okay."
"You better not laugh, okay?"
"I won't."
"You promise?"
"I promise." He leans in slowly, his voice barely above a whisper. "I got you." The kiss is brief and warm. Gentle enough that it barely registers before it's over. When he pulls away, you're still blinking at him. "...That's all?"
He smiles. "For now."
"...okay well.. show the dirty deed than." He flashes that signature Bad-era grin.
. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁. . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.
he laid out on the bed , his shirt lifted and a lazy smirk on his face as you sat on your knees.
"you look a little flushed pretty girl." his hand coming up to your cheek. "you said you wanted to learn, you getting cold feet now?" Now Michael knows your inexperienced , he’d been taking things extra slow with you but sometimes you surprised him and he didn’t stop you.
"n-no." you started. "but what if i do it wrong , what if i bite you or something? I don’t know."
"you’re not gonna bite me sweetheart... and who knows i might like…that." he chuckled seeing your face flush even more. "c’mon you’re a big girl." his hands wrapping around your thighs. “and i’m here to help you , i promise."
you bite down on your lips, he let out a low groan , he didn’t care how sloppy it might be , he needed to feel your lips around him. "It’s jus’ like a lollipop."
"okay.." he smiled softly , his big hand caressing your cheek. “good girl.” he unbuckled his pants. "Go ahead, take my cock out sweetheart." his eyes were low as he watched you nervously fiddling around with his pants , lifting his hips up to allow you to pull them down enough to pull his cock out,
your eyes widening at his length. "m-Michael..you’re really big." he laughed softly. "Touch it, sweet girl." he groaned softly as you held his soft cock in your hands.
"Y-yeah my sweet girl, now move up and d-down." you obeyed. "slowly." he trailed off as you moved your hands , pre-cum dribbling down his cock. "O-oh fuck…princess , keep going."
"now , if y’want.. give the tip a little kiss." lowering your head down, kissing the tip, the sticky essence coating your lips.
"good girl, open your mouth." he ran his hands through your head softly. "g-go slow." parting your lips , letting his cock slowly slip into your mouth. "fuuuuck." he groaned softly, hissing when your teeth grazed the vein.
"Goodness baby , careful with your t-teeth , you’re doing so good though….so good f’me." he praised,your muffled moans,sending vibrations through his cock. "sh-shit, you like sucking my cock?" he groaned, he tugged at your hair softly. desperately wanting to push your head down and make you gag on his cock…shit he was about to cum. "wait fuck hold on sweet girl , stop.."
"d-did i do something wrong?" you pulled off of him, your lips swollen, eyes teary — and fucked out. "no , of course not – fuck you were too good i almost came." he huffed out a breathless laugh.
"isn’t that a good thing?" you titled your head to the side confused , you were killing him. "Ye-yeah it is angel, but i didn’t want to overwhelm you…" his cock was still hard , twitching against his stomach.
you didn’t know what you were doing, but you picked it back up. "Baby wait you don’t—fuck!" he hissed as you bobbed up and down on his length.
"Ohhhh-baby-fuck." you smiled, mouth full of his cock. "S-shit, sweetheart, i’m gonna c-cum." you kept going , jerking off what couldn’t fit in your mouth.
his cock twitched before his cum shot into your mouth , some of it leaking out the corners of your mouth. "a-ah shitttt, that’s enough f’me..pretty." you pulled off of him , cum and spit coating your lips. "did i do good big daddy." You tease.
"good?" he chuckled breathlessly. "Sweet girl, you sure you haven’t done that before?" you flushed , swatting his chest.
"Mike stop…" he pulled you into his lap. "You did so good." your need for him growing as he praised.
"m-mike-" he rubbed soft circles into your thighs. "getting needy mama?" you whimpered, nodding. "you did such a good job for your first time…only right i help you now right?" you core burning with anticipation. "Wanna sit on my face."
"W-What?" he pulled you further up. "c’mon..let me taste you." he whispered sweetly, hissing the insides of your thighs. "Want you to ride my face , use me. Please."
݁ ˖Ი𐑼⋆bad!michael being so hopelessly gone for his personal assistant! that the smallest things completely throw him off.
𐔌՞. .՞𐦯 like he's in the studio, jacket half zipped, sunglasses pushed up into his curls, flipping through lyric sheets while sipping a glass of orange juice, he sets it down beside you without thinking. you're busy highlighting tomorrow's schedule.
"…can i?" he barely looks up. "mm-hm." so you take a sip. completely innocent. completely normal. Right...
until michael finally glances over. and realizes. you're drinking from his glass. the exact spot his lips were just on. his brain practically short circuits. he just...stares. you lower the glass. "..what?"
"...nothin'." except his ears are turning hot 𐔌՞ ܸ.ˬ.ܸ՞𐦯 the next day...he "accidentally" leaves his drink beside your notebook again. "...oops."
you raise an eyebrow. "...oops?" He slightly smiles. "...forgot." you know he didn't. you absolutely know he didn't. but you play along anyway. "mind if i steal some?"
he tries to sound casual. "…go ahead." you smile to yourself before taking another sip. this time...making eye contact with him over the rim of the bottle. completely on purpose. michael forgets what sentence he was reading.
".…you okay?" he blinks. "y-yeah." You play the game a little tooooo well. "we’ll…you've been on the same page for like...five minutes." You smirk. "...have i?" He says with full innocent.
"michael..." He looks at your lips then back at you. "...hm?"
"you were literally reading it upside down." he looks down.
...it is upside down. "Oh." after that it becomes your favorite little game. he orders a milkshake. takes exactly one sip. then slides it toward you. "It’s..too sweet." You look at the milkshake confused. "...really?"
"yeah." you know he's lying because it's his favorite flavor.
still...you take a sip anyway. "...it's good." he smiles. "Oh yeah?" You took another few sips while making eye contact "Yeah." He smiles even wider now "..Okay ma’am." WHY IS HE SO PLEASED 😭
one afternoon rehearsal finally wraps after six exhausting hours.
everyone is scattered around the studio. dancers are stretching. the band is packing equipment. michael is sitting cross legged on the stage, sweaty from rehearsal, quietly scribbling changes into his notebook.
without looking up, he reaches beside him. "Angel…could you please hand me my orange juice?" you're halfway through organizing tomorrow's call sheet. "...one second." you grab the bottle. except...you're a lil thirsty too. so without thinking...you take a sip first.
then hand it to him. still reading the schedule. "...wardrobe fitting moved to ten..interview at one…and Quincy called—" you stop talking. because michael...isn't listening. he's staring at the bottle. "Mr Jackson..what’s wrong?"
"nothin' angel." he takes it anyway. his thumb brushes the rim where your lipstick left the faintest mark. your eyes follow the movement. "...oh." you suddenly realize. "I apologise." You fake then you immediately reach for it. "I'll get you another one." before your fingers reach the bottle...michael pulls it back. "why?"
"...because i drank from it." He smirks. "i know angel…i don't mind." then—without breaking eye contact—he takes a sip from the exact same place.😭😭😭
and the worst part? he never tells you to stop why? he just likes it. TOO MUCH.
likes seeing your lipstick on the rim of his cup, likes that you're comfortable enough to share without asking twice, likes that it's such a tiny, ordinary thing that somehow feels weirdly intimate to him.
one day you catch him smiling down at the bottle after you've handed it back. "Is there a problem mr Jackson?" he looks up immediately. "Nah nothin'." Still smiling. "But…you're smiling."
"...am i?" He teases. "yes, you are." he ducks his head with the cutest, most embarrassed grin. "...sharing's nice." you grin back, pretending not to notice the faint blush creeping across his cheeks.
"sharing is caring." You tease back. "...yeah," he mumbles, taking another sip from the same spot you just drank from. "...it surely is Angel." ☹️🤍
and because you're his assistant...nobody questions it. to everyone else it's practical. you're constantly checking if his tea is still warm. making sure he's drinking enough water.
handing him bottles between rehearsals. sharing whatever's closest because neither of you has time to think about whose is whose. except...for michael...he thinks about it every single time.
mil talks ૮ • ﻌ - ა. i love personal assistant diaries….. he’s such a shy flirt fuck Michael come kiss me pls, I hope you liked it ily 👼🏽 again I did not proofread soooo.. if any mistakes u didn’t saw that.
contains: sexual themes, fingering, squirting , soft!dom thriller michael. fem!reader & use of ! baby & mama. Michael loves teasing you, kinda rushed? ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ໒꒱
݁ ˖Ი𐑼⋆ thriller!michael who loves to make his baby feel good <3 You gasped when you felt his hand drift lower, past the waistband of your shorts, past your panties — until his fingers were finally pressed against your bare and soaked slit. He kissed your neck like a hungry man, just touching you there was enough to knock the breath from his lungs. 𐔌՞. .՞𐦯
“F-fuck, do you feel me baby?” he whispered, slow and reverent, fingers parting you gently. “Y-you’re so soaked.” You whimpered softly, the tension you’d been holding onto all day was unraveling with each slow stroke of his fingers. “Ah… mikey fuck—don’t tease.” Ignoring you, his fingers parted you slowly, tracing your folds. Teasing every slick inch like it was his favorite thing in the world. And it was. “All this’ for m’ baby?” he murmured, fingers gliding up to swirl over your clit, light but deliberate. “You don’t have to act shy wit’ me mama, when your pussy’s begging you jus’ tell me alright?”
Your legs fell open without thinking, hips moving toward his big hand like your body had completely given up on pretending it didn’t crave him. The wet disgusting sounds of his fingers working you open made the heat twist tighter in your belly and throat, your breathing shallow and uneven as he circled your clit. You whimpered, thighs trembling around his wrist. Your head leaned against his shoulder, pressure building between your legs and the way his fingers moved on your heat. He slipped two fingers inside you without warning, and you cried out, your hand shooting up to grip his arm hard. He groaned at how tight you clenched around him, curling his fingers deep, fucking you slow. “Soooo wet… mmhh fuck, you’re dripping, mama.” He muttered, lips dragging hot down your neck.
Your shaky, grinding harder on the thick length of his fingers, it also made you cling tighter to his shirt as your thighs still trembled around him. “Mmmhh so good for me, f-fuck, I know baby—needy girl, huh?” he teased, a soft chuckle leaving his mouth. “M-Michael…. P-Please…” you whined, voice barely above a whisper. His grip on your thighs (to keep u open.) tightened, guiding your thighs to stay open, as he did that he tilted his head to look at you, lips parted and eyes basically rolling. “Yeah? You feel good? Mmhh i know you do, don’t you mama? you’re making me so hard f-fuck baby.” Your only answer was a soft, desperate moan as you rocked against him again, your panties damppppp, Michael licked a stripe up your neck before sucking another very visible mark into your skin, right over your collarbone, slow and possessive. Your hips moved on instinct now, slow, needy rolls that made your clit even more throb. Making it feel like your 2th orgasam.
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Your whole body was trembling now, every movement of his fingers pushing you closer to the edge. He knew exactly where to curl them, how to angle each thrust, how to grind his thumb over your clit just right. Your moans had turned to helpless little cries, your body rocking into his hand, chasing the high he was so expertly giving you. “Mike—Michael, I’m gonna cum,” you gasped, voice nearly breaking as you teetered right on the brink. And then he stopped. You choked out a whimper, the sudden absence of his fingers leaving you aching and empty. “N-no —Michael, please. Baby please.” you whimpered, hips still twitching, trying to chase the pressure he’d stolen away. He pulled back slowly, trailing his wet fingers up your stomach as he leaned in to kiss your jaw, your cheek, and then your mouth, all soft and sweet. His kiss was gentle—too gentle, considering the way your body was still shaking with need.
then slammed his two fingers back in, hard. You cried out, body jolting beneath him as he set a brutal rhythm, each thrust deep, the sound of skin slapping echoing in the dark room. “Say it to me baby,” he panted, his pace unrelenting. “Say you’re mine, and tell me what you’re about to do.”
“I—I’m yours, Michael! Fuck!” you moaned, voice high and shaking. “All yours b-baby!” He leaned down, teeth grazing your neck as he fucked you harder wirh his fingers again, the bed creaking under his pace. “Damn right you are my baby, cum for me.” Your moans came out in broken little sobs, your hands scrambling to hold onto his hair as each thrust knocked the breath out of you. He was so deep, his fingers are so thick and stretching you to your limit, the sound of his hand slapping against your soaked cunt obscene in the dark room. You then came hard on his fingers with a loud, shuddering scream. “Michael—! Fuck, I’m cumming—!” Your entire body convulsed hard, thighs clamping around his fingers, shaking your head and stopping his hand, powerful waves of pleasure crashed through you.
“Fuckk.. atta girl, mmhh so, so good.” Your pussy clenched and fluttered around his fingers gushing wetly on his lap and fingers while he continued to rub your clit, to see a small reaction. “Mean, huh? aww look at you mama…You did so good. Took it all for me.” Once you were clean, he crawled back into bed and pulled you into his chest, wrapping you up in his arms, his hand rubbing soft circles into your back. “I adore you so much baby, i love seeing you feel good. Now go to sleep mama, I got you.” he murmured, lips brushing your forehead. (๑ᵔ⤙ᵔ๑)
mil talks ૮ • ﻌ - ა. This took ME so long *sigh*... lmk if this was good! I did not proofread lol,,, so if u see any mistakes please ignore! I love feedback and talking to u guys (so don’t be scared to comment.) >.< so much loves nd kisses mwa.
݁ ˖Ი𐑼⋆thriller!michael feeling guilty because his personal assistant practically lives around his schedule ☹️ 𐔌՞. .՞𐦯
like one night it's almost midnight and you're still sitting in the studio with your planner open, crossing things off tomorrow's itinerary while everyone else has already gone home. michael looks up from the piano. "...you ever do anything for yourself?" you don't even look up. "this is for myself."
"no," he laughs softly. "this is for me." you shrug like it's no big deal. "i don't mind." and that's somehow worse. because he starts noticing everything after that. how you always eat after he does.
how you never leave until he's safely back at the hotel. how every weekend somehow turns into another workday because if michael needs something, you're already there before he asks. one evening he finally sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. "you know... you're a pretty young thing."
"...thanks?"
"i'm serious." he smiles sadly. "you should be out with friends. on dates. doin'... whatever people our age do." you laugh. "our age?" he points at you.
"your age."😭 you just shrug again. "i like being here."
"...because it's your job?"
"...because it's you."
…silence. michael just stares at you. because you said it so casually, like you didn't even realize what came out of your mouth. you freeze about three seconds later. "...i didn't mean—"
"yeah," he says quietly. you immediately start rambling. "i mean, i did mean it, just—not like—"
"hey." he steps closer. "look at me." you finally do. he's smiling. (๑ᵔ⤙ᵔ๑) "you deserve somebody who looks at you the way you spend all day lookin' after everybody else." you blink. "...michael..."
before you can overthink it again, he reaches up and gently brushes a loose strand of hair behind your ear. "thank you," he whispers. and then, almost like he surprises himself...he leans in and kisses you.
so gently it almost doesn't feel real. just the lightest press of his lips against yours. lowkey testing. like he's giving you every chance in the world to stop him. instead...you kiss him back.
michael lets out the quietest little breath against your lips, almost relieved. his thumb brushes your cheek. he kisses you again. this time slower…..and trying to add tongue *ehem*
your brain goes completely blank. you've imagined what kissing him might be like more times than you'd ever admit, but nothing compares to the reality of it. he's impossibly careful.
like you're something precious. when you finally relax, your hand finds the sleeve of his jacket without thinking, gently holding onto it. michael smiles into the kiss. he absolutely melts.
so do you. for a few perfect seconds, the schedules, the rehearsals, the cameras, the job title...none of it exists. it's just michael. just you.
his forehead rests lightly against yours when he pulls back for air, both of you breathing a little unevenly. "...wow girl," he whispers.
you can't even answer. he laughs softly, almost shy. "been wanting to do that for a while." your cheeks burn. "...really?" he nods once.
"...really." he leans in again almost instinctively, brushing another soft kiss against your lips, a little more certain this time. you almost let yourself disappear into it—until your eyes suddenly fly open. "...oh no." michael blinks. "...what?"
you gently pull back, staring at him in complete disbelief before covering your face with both hands. "...this is not what Joe- mr Jackson would've wanted." there's a complete silence. michael just... stares at you. "...that's..."
his shoulders start shaking."...that's your first thought?" you peek through your fingers, mortified. "I panicked!" he bursts into laughter. the kind that makes him bend forward slightly, one hand over his face.
"I kiss you..." he says between laughs, "...and you're worried about Joseph?"
"I'm trying to process this!"
"Oh, Lord..." he's still laughing when he reaches for your wrists, gently pulling your hands away from your face.
"There’s my pretty young thing’."
"I'm embarrassed."
"I can see, but it’s okay."
"You should've noticed before you kissed me."
"I definitely wasn't thinkin' about Joe Jackson." That only makes you groan louder. He smiles so warmly it almost hurts to look at him. "...Neither of us is ever gonna live this conversation down, are we?"
You sigh dramatically. "...Probably not."
"...Worth it, though." And before you can come up with another panicked excuse, he steals one last quick kiss—grinning the entire time you gasp in protest.
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. ⊹ 🍮🥄 ៹ ݁contains: sexual themes, blowjob, soft!dom bad michael. fem!reader & use of ! nicknames. Michael loves teasing you, lwk fwb (m! receiving.) ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ໒꒱
݁ ˖Ი𐑼⋆ bad era!michael who notices you've never really dated anyone and becomes way too invested in fixing that.
1988'
it starts after a group dinner when everyone keeps talking about their first kisses and their first time getting down on someone.
you stay very quiet and michael noticed that. later that night you're both sitting on the hood of his car outside Hayvenhurst, sharing food from a drive thru bag while the radio quietly plays in the background.
he nudges your shoulder. "You got real quiet back there, lady." You shrug. "Didn't have anything to add."
"...Why?" Another shrug. "...Never kissed, or got down to anyone." He slowly lowers a fry. "...You're serious?" He scans your face. You immediately regret saying it. "Forget it."
"No, no." He turns to face you completely. "You've never been kissed?" You shake your head, already embarrassed.
"I just... never cared that much." He studies you for a second, chin resting on his hand. "Don't look at me like that."
"I'm not lookin' at you any way."
"You are."
"I am not." Michael laughs, throwing his head back. "I ain't judgin' you, pretty lady."
"You totally are. Young man." You tease. "I'm jus’ surprised." You roll your eyes. "Ugh mike, shut up." 𐔌՞ ܸ.ˬ.ܸ՞𐦯 He shakes his head, smiling to himself. "I just figured... I dunno."
"What?" You ask curious. "Somebody would've beat me to it."
Your eyebrows pull together. "...Beat you to what?" He freezes. "...Nothin'." The fact he has the nerve to be shy after saying that. "Michael...what do you mean?"
"Nothin' pretty lady, don’t worry."
A few minutes pass before he casually says—"I could teach you both."
You almost choke on your soda. "I'm sorry?"
"You heard me." He chuckles. "No, I definitely didn't." You almost choke again. He grins behind his sunglasses, even though it's literally nighttime.
"I said I could teach you."
"You've lost your mind."
"C'mon."
"No."
"Why not?"
"Because you're my best friend!"
"So?"
"Sooo best friends don't…do that stuff."
"...Since when?"
"Since forever!"
He shrugs like you're the unreasonable one. "I think you're makin' up rules." You stare at him. "I am not kissing you."
"Didn't say you had to."
"I said I could help."
"That's the same thing."
"It's educational."
"Oh my goodness Michael."
"You gonna let some random dude be your first kiss and get down him?"
"...Eventually?"
"What if he's terrible?"
"I can take that."
"But what if he ain't patient?" You don't answer. Michael knew what you did there. His smile softens just a little.
"You'd get nervous, hm?"
"...maybe."
"You'd pretend you weren't."
"...maybe, yeah."
"And then he'd rush you." You look away. He sighs. "I wouldn't, pretty lady." That catches your attention. His voice is quieter now. "I'd wait..whenever you’re ready, I’d wait." The air suddenly feels different.
You look down at the paper cup in your hands. "...You're doing that thing."
"What thing?"
"Making everything sound reasonable." He laughs. "Is it workin'?"
"...A little."
"I knew it." He hops off the hood and walks around until he's standing in front of you.
"No pressure."
"You literally just spent ten minutes pressuring me."
"I spent ten minutes presenting evidence."
"You'd make a terrible lawyer."
"I'd make a great teacher." You roll your eyes so hard it makes him laugh. "...okay, one kiss…and you learn me how to give a blowjob?," you mumble.
His grin immediately gives him away. "So you agreed." You look away shyly. "Don't sound so excited." He laughs. "I'm not!"
"Oh you are."
"I'm happy you're trustin' me." He steps closer, suddenly much gentler than before. His hand comes up slowly, giving you plenty of time to move if you want. "You really want this, pretty?"
"...Yeah." He bites his lips. "Cute."
"..Michael."
"Sorry." He's smiling, but softer now. "Just... don't think so much." Easy for him to say.
The second his fingers brush your cheek, your heart starts racing. "I don't know what I'm doing," you admit quietly. "I know, m’lady and that’s okay."
"You better not laugh, okay?"
"I won't."
"You promise?"
"I promise." He leans in slowly, his voice barely above a whisper. "I got you." The kiss is brief and warm. Gentle enough that it barely registers before it's over. When he pulls away, you're still blinking at him. "...That's all?"
He smiles. "For now."
"...okay well.. show the dirty deed than." He flashes that signature Bad-era grin.
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he laid out on the bed , his shirt lifted and a lazy smirk on his face as you sat on your knees.
"you look a little flushed pretty girl." his hand coming up to your cheek. "you said you wanted to learn, you getting cold feet now?" Now Michael knows your inexperienced , he’d been taking things extra slow with you but sometimes you surprised him and he didn’t stop you.
"n-no." you started. "but what if i do it wrong , what if i bite you or something? I don’t know."
"you’re not gonna bite me sweetheart... and who knows i might like…that." he chuckled seeing your face flush even more. "c’mon you’re a big girl." his hands wrapping around your thighs. “and i’m here to help you , i promise."
you bite down on your lips, he let out a low groan , he didn’t care how sloppy it might be , he needed to feel your lips around him. "It’s jus’ like a lollipop."
"okay.." he smiled softly , his big hand caressing your cheek. “good girl.” he unbuckled his pants. "Go ahead, take my cock out sweetheart." his eyes were low as he watched you nervously fiddling around with his pants , lifting his hips up to allow you to pull them down enough to pull his cock out,
your eyes widening at his length. "m-Michael..you’re really big." he laughed softly. "Touch it, sweet girl." he groaned softly as you held his soft cock in your hands.
"Y-yeah my sweet girl, now move up and d-down." you obeyed. "slowly." he trailed off as you moved your hands , pre-cum dribbling down his cock. "O-oh fuck…princess , keep going."
"now , if y’want.. give the tip a little kiss." lowering your head down, kissing the tip, the sticky essence coating your lips.
"good girl, open your mouth." he ran his hands through your head softly. "g-go slow." parting your lips , letting his cock slowly slip into your mouth. "fuuuuck." he groaned softly, hissing when your teeth grazed the vein.
"Goodness baby , careful with your t-teeth , you’re doing so good though….so good f’me." he praised,your muffled moans,sending vibrations through his cock. "sh-shit, you like sucking my cock?" he groaned, he tugged at your hair softly. desperately wanting to push your head down and make you gag on his cock…shit he was about to cum. "wait fuck hold on sweet girl , stop.."
"d-did i do something wrong?" you pulled off of him, your lips swollen, eyes teary — and fucked out. "no , of course not – fuck you were too good i almost came." he huffed out a breathless laugh.
"isn’t that a good thing?" you titled your head to the side confused , you were killing him. "Ye-yeah it is angel, but i didn’t want to overwhelm you…" his cock was still hard , twitching against his stomach.
you didn’t know what you were doing, but you picked it back up. "Baby wait you don’t—fuck!" he hissed as you bobbed up and down on his length.
"Ohhhh-baby-fuck." you smiled, mouth full of his cock. "S-shit, sweetheart, i’m gonna c-cum." you kept going , jerking off what couldn’t fit in your mouth.
his cock twitched before his cum shot into your mouth , some of it leaking out the corners of your mouth. "a-ah shitttt, that’s enough f’me..pretty." you pulled off of him , cum and spit coating your lips. "did i do good big daddy." You tease.
"good?" he chuckled breathlessly. "Sweet girl, you sure you haven’t done that before?" you flushed , swatting his chest.
"Mike stop…" he pulled you into his lap. "You did so good." your need for him growing as he praised.
"m-mike-" he rubbed soft circles into your thighs. "getting needy mama?" you whimpered, nodding. "you did such a good job for your first time…only right i help you now right?" you core burning with anticipation. "Wanna sit on my face."
"W-What?" he pulled you further up. "c’mon..let me taste you." he whispered sweetly, hissing the insides of your thighs. "Want you to ride my face , use me. Please."
. ⊹ 🍮🥄 ៹ ݁contains: sexual themes, blowjob, soft!dom bad michael. fem!reader & use of ! nicknames. Michael loves teasing you, lwk fwb (m! receiving.) ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ໒꒱
݁ ˖Ი𐑼⋆ bad era!michael who notices you've never really dated anyone and becomes way too invested in fixing that.
1988'
it starts after a group dinner when everyone keeps talking about their first kisses and their first time getting down on someone.
you stay very quiet and michael noticed that. later that night you're both sitting on the hood of his car outside Hayvenhurst, sharing food from a drive thru bag while the radio quietly plays in the background.
he nudges your shoulder. "You got real quiet back there, lady." You shrug. "Didn't have anything to add."
"...Why?" Another shrug. "...Never kissed, or got down to anyone." He slowly lowers a fry. "...You're serious?" He scans your face. You immediately regret saying it. "Forget it."
"No, no." He turns to face you completely. "You've never been kissed?" You shake your head, already embarrassed.
"I just... never cared that much." He studies you for a second, chin resting on his hand. "Don't look at me like that."
"I'm not lookin' at you any way."
"You are."
"I am not." Michael laughs, throwing his head back. "I ain't judgin' you, pretty lady."
"You totally are. Young man." You tease. "I'm jus’ surprised." You roll your eyes. "Ugh mike, shut up." 𐔌՞ ܸ.ˬ.ܸ՞𐦯 He shakes his head, smiling to himself. "I just figured... I dunno."
"What?" You ask curious. "Somebody would've beat me to it."
Your eyebrows pull together. "...Beat you to what?" He freezes. "...Nothin'." The fact he has the nerve to be shy after saying that. "Michael...what do you mean?"
"Nothin' pretty lady, don’t worry."
A few minutes pass before he casually says—"I could teach you both."
You almost choke on your soda. "I'm sorry?"
"You heard me." He chuckles. "No, I definitely didn't." You almost choke again. He grins behind his sunglasses, even though it's literally nighttime.
"I said I could teach you."
"You've lost your mind."
"C'mon."
"No."
"Why not?"
"Because you're my best friend!"
"So?"
"Sooo best friends don't…do that stuff."
"...Since when?"
"Since forever!"
He shrugs like you're the unreasonable one. "I think you're makin' up rules." You stare at him. "I am not kissing you."
"Didn't say you had to."
"I said I could help."
"That's the same thing."
"It's educational."
"Oh my goodness Michael."
"You gonna let some random dude be your first kiss and get down him?"
"...Eventually?"
"What if he's terrible?"
"I can take that."
"But what if he ain't patient?" You don't answer. Michael knew what you did there. His smile softens just a little.
"You'd get nervous, hm?"
"...maybe."
"You'd pretend you weren't."
"...maybe, yeah."
"And then he'd rush you." You look away. He sighs. "I wouldn't, pretty lady." That catches your attention. His voice is quieter now. "I'd wait..whenever you’re ready, I’d wait." The air suddenly feels different.
You look down at the paper cup in your hands. "...You're doing that thing."
"What thing?"
"Making everything sound reasonable." He laughs. "Is it workin'?"
"...A little."
"I knew it." He hops off the hood and walks around until he's standing in front of you.
"No pressure."
"You literally just spent ten minutes pressuring me."
"I spent ten minutes presenting evidence."
"You'd make a terrible lawyer."
"I'd make a great teacher." You roll your eyes so hard it makes him laugh. "...okay, one kiss…and you learn me how to give a blowjob?," you mumble.
His grin immediately gives him away. "So you agreed." You look away shyly. "Don't sound so excited." He laughs. "I'm not!"
"Oh you are."
"I'm happy you're trustin' me." He steps closer, suddenly much gentler than before. His hand comes up slowly, giving you plenty of time to move if you want. "You really want this, pretty?"
"...Yeah." He bites his lips. "Cute."
"..Michael."
"Sorry." He's smiling, but softer now. "Just... don't think so much." Easy for him to say.
The second his fingers brush your cheek, your heart starts racing. "I don't know what I'm doing," you admit quietly. "I know, m’lady and that’s okay."
"You better not laugh, okay?"
"I won't."
"You promise?"
"I promise." He leans in slowly, his voice barely above a whisper. "I got you." The kiss is brief and warm. Gentle enough that it barely registers before it's over. When he pulls away, you're still blinking at him. "...That's all?"
He smiles. "For now."
"...okay well.. show the dirty deed than." He flashes that signature Bad-era grin.
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he laid out on the bed , his shirt lifted and a lazy smirk on his face as you sat on your knees.
"you look a little flushed pretty girl." his hand coming up to your cheek. "you said you wanted to learn, you getting cold feet now?" Now Michael knows your inexperienced , he’d been taking things extra slow with you but sometimes you surprised him and he didn’t stop you.
"n-no." you started. "but what if i do it wrong , what if i bite you or something? I don’t know."
"you’re not gonna bite me sweetheart... and who knows i might like…that." he chuckled seeing your face flush even more. "c’mon you’re a big girl." his hands wrapping around your thighs. “and i’m here to help you , i promise."
you bite down on your lips, he let out a low groan , he didn’t care how sloppy it might be , he needed to feel your lips around him. "It’s jus’ like a lollipop."
"okay.." he smiled softly , his big hand caressing your cheek. “good girl.” he unbuckled his pants. "Go ahead, take my cock out sweetheart." his eyes were low as he watched you nervously fiddling around with his pants , lifting his hips up to allow you to pull them down enough to pull his cock out,
your eyes widening at his length. "m-Michael..you’re really big." he laughed softly. "Touch it, sweet girl." he groaned softly as you held his soft cock in your hands.
"Y-yeah my sweet girl, now move up and d-down." you obeyed. "slowly." he trailed off as you moved your hands , pre-cum dribbling down his cock. "O-oh fuck…princess , keep going."
"now , if y’want.. give the tip a little kiss." lowering your head down, kissing the tip, the sticky essence coating your lips.
"good girl, open your mouth." he ran his hands through your head softly. "g-go slow." parting your lips , letting his cock slowly slip into your mouth. "fuuuuck." he groaned softly, hissing when your teeth grazed the vein.
"Goodness baby , careful with your t-teeth , you’re doing so good though….so good f’me." he praised,your muffled moans,sending vibrations through his cock. "sh-shit, you like sucking my cock?" he groaned, he tugged at your hair softly. desperately wanting to push your head down and make you gag on his cock…shit he was about to cum. "wait fuck hold on sweet girl , stop.."
"d-did i do something wrong?" you pulled off of him, your lips swollen, eyes teary — and fucked out. "no , of course not – fuck you were too good i almost came." he huffed out a breathless laugh.
"isn’t that a good thing?" you titled your head to the side confused , you were killing him. "Ye-yeah it is angel, but i didn’t want to overwhelm you…" his cock was still hard , twitching against his stomach.
you didn’t know what you were doing, but you picked it back up. "Baby wait you don’t—fuck!" he hissed as you bobbed up and down on his length.
"Ohhhh-baby-fuck." you smiled, mouth full of his cock. "S-shit, sweetheart, i’m gonna c-cum." you kept going , jerking off what couldn’t fit in your mouth.
his cock twitched before his cum shot into your mouth , some of it leaking out the corners of your mouth. "a-ah shitttt, that’s enough f’me..pretty." you pulled off of him , cum and spit coating your lips. "did i do good big daddy." You tease.
"good?" he chuckled breathlessly. "Sweet girl, you sure you haven’t done that before?" you flushed , swatting his chest.
"Mike stop…" he pulled you into his lap. "You did so good." your need for him growing as he praised.
"m-mike-" he rubbed soft circles into your thighs. "getting needy mama?" you whimpered, nodding. "you did such a good job for your first time…only right i help you now right?" you core burning with anticipation. "Wanna sit on my face."
"W-What?" he pulled you further up. "c’mon..let me taste you." he whispered sweetly, hissing the insides of your thighs. "Want you to ride my face , use me. Please."
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