𐀪𐀪 ───────────────────ᴏɴᴇsʜᴏᴛ
masterlist | FWB!Michael Jackson x fem!Reader
| CW: 18+ sexual material, making out, groping, fwb (kind of), cumming in pants, patronizing, slightly subby Michael, a bit of vitiligo and insecurity (Michael) related angst, Michael picks up reader
| Summary: Michael’s family have all left on a vacation and he’s all alone in the Hayvenhurst house. He calls up his longtime friend to hangout and she comes right away. They’re close in a way that isn’t common, but feels right to them.
︎DISCLAIMER: This fanfiction depicts a real person and a suggestive scenario. Nothing included in this story is implied to be accurate. This is a purely creative work and is not meant to offend, or make anyone uncomfortable.
With the Hayvenhurst house empty for the first time in a long time, Michael feels free. His fingers pressing hard into each key of his grand piano in the grand entrance.
Normally, Michael plays the piano with a light touch, not wanting to trigger his father of his presence. But with his father gone, he’s free to let the melodies ring throughout the house.
His mind wanders, colours and cartoon characters creating a beautiful collage behind the notes. He has no fear, and his body is finally able to relax, even on the shellacked wood of the bench he’s perched on.
The song that comes together under the pads of his fingers starts to sound like words to him. Namely, words that describe you.
He stops playing and plops his hands onto his thighs and huffs; he misses you.
It’s been nearly two weeks since he saw you, and he’s really been missing you. If it were up to him, you’d live in his bedroom with him, but he doesn’t like having you around his dad. It’s like a gut feeling.
The house is empty now, though…
Your phone rings and nearly bounces off your kitchen counter with Michael’s call, almost as if it itself was overjoyed by the number.
You groan, spitting out the toothpaste in your mouth and rushing out of the bathroom to catch that call.
“Hello?” You ask, voice a little grumbly from sleep. You clear your throat away from the receiver.
“Baby?” Michael’s soft tone greets you, a smile blooming on your face with instant recognition. “Are you busy today?”
“Michael!” You almost squeak, the gleefulness in your voice making him twist the phone cord around his index. “No, I’m not busy at all. Why?”
He smiles to himself before responding through a light laugh.
“Just wonderin’ if you wan’ed to come over,” he bites his lip before continuing. “My whole family is out of town for the next few days and I thought… sleepover?”
The nervousness in his voice makes your chest warm and you frown in a happy, sympathetic way. Always such a bundle of nerves, that one…
“Of course, sweet,” you respond kindly, already glancing to your bedroom in excitement to get a nice outfit. “I’ll be over in the hour.”
Michael’s presence always warrants a nice outfit, and you never take that for granted. You don’t get the same opportunities to dress up as he does because of all his galas and awards shows, so this is a cherished tradition.
The search doesn’t take long and you decide on something functional, yet fashionable. You got your hair professionally cut and styled yesterday, and it really boosts everything about your look. You toss on some jewelry and you’re on your way in a half hour.
Michael makes a tray of snacks for the both of you while he waits for your arrival, plating it as pretty as he can. He sighs contentedly when your knock comes just as he’s placing the platter on the coffee table. Perfect timing.
He bounds to the door and captures you with his arms. You’re locked against him, squealing as he lifts you up off the ground.
Your feet only touch the ground again so that he can grab your face in his hands and kiss you, letting it linger until it’s just smiles pressed against one another.
“You’re so touchy today, Michael,” you giggle, rubbing your hands over his tiny waist.
“Mm,” he hums, pressing his lips back to yours. “Told you, family isn’t home. Wanna be normal with you again.”
His words are mumbled into your mouth, his tongue trying to find its way in too.
“Okay— okay, baby,” you put your hands on his chest and put some space between the two of you. “Let’s get inside first, hm?”
He looks sad for a moment before his face lights up. You give him a suspicious look but before you can say anything, he’s whisking you off your feet and gathering your body in his arms.
“Oh!” You gasp, eyes wide with awe. “When did you get so strong?”
“Come on,” he rolls his eyes as he kicks the front door shut. “Gimme’ some credit; I’m still a guy.”
“Don’t worry, baby,” you assure, letting your lips press along his strong jawline. “‘Wasn’t takin’ a shot at you.”
He smiles down at you in his arms and takes you into the living room, tossing you onto the plush couch before diving onto it beside you.
“I made snacks.” He points excitedly at the charcuterie board on the table infront of you. “All your favourite things.”
“Ooo,” you pick up a finger food and pop it into your mouth. “It’s perfect. Thanks, sweet.”
He blushes at the nickname, something he’s always been sensitive to with you.
You’re his best friend and you’ve been his safe space for his entire adult life. Naturally, your relationship became almost as close as a couple. But when he finally tried to take your bra off while you guys were… cuddling, you stopped him. That led to a serious discussion about how your relationship would function.
He agreed that a girlfriend wasn’t what he needed, and you said the same. But he also mentioned that physical touch was important to him and made him feel comfortable, that he’d really miss kissing you and having free-roam access to your body.
You understood his need for intimacy, and decided to continue it even after settling on being ‘just friends’.
The relationship would be complicated to explain to anyone outside of it, but between the two of you, it was incredibly simple.
“M’glad you like it.” he smiles, and stares, his eyes going all puppy-like the longer he looks at you. “…I’ve been thinking about you a lot.”
His hand finds your forearm and rubs it kindly. He sighs softly, a little tired.
“Everything has been kind of stressful lately, and— and it’s been kind of, well, lonely…” he admits quietly. “…Do you mind if we do that thing?”
His meek request makes you frown, pulling his body to your chest on instinct.
“Yeah, we can.” You answer simply, messing with the hair by his temples as you feel his heartbeat calm against your breasts. “Right here is okay?”
He nods, trying to discreetly nuzzle his face into your barely visible cleavage. It makes you laugh softly, his neediness so sweet— hence the nickname.
Your hand slides down to his thigh, rubbing it soothingly before it works its way closer to his sensitive places. His hips nudge forward with a quiet whimper into your soft breasts, encouraging your hand to pet his inner thigh.
“Shh, baby,” you hush him, kissing the top of his head. “I’m not teasing you, you can relax.”
He visibly relaxes at your gentle words, his arms wrapping lazily around your waist. His lips start pressing kisses to the silky skin where his face has been resting. It sends a shiver down your spine.
The bulge in his pants is starting to become visible and you keep your promise, cupping your hand over his crotch and pushing your palm down slightly. He gasps and moves to tuck his now warm face into the crook of your neck.
“Been a while, hasn’t it, sweet?” You coo, almost patronizing, just the way he likes it.
He manages a pathetic nod, not daring to show his face at this point.
“I’ll take care of it,” you assure him, tucking your free hand under his chin and lifting it up to kiss him. “Do you want me to take it out?”
“No—” he almost cries. “Please, don’t.”
His reaction makes you frown.
“I won’t, Michael,” you kiss the words into his mouth. “Don’t worry.”
He smiles weakly, grateful that you’re being understanding and not asking any questions.
You squeeze his cock through his pants, swallowing his shameful little whimpers. Your thumb rubs the side of the bump, finding where his sensitive tip is to stimulate it.
His hips rut against your hand, trying to reach his climax without you ever actually making direct contact with his cock. He presses his face straight back into your boobs.
“It’s okay, it’s okay, baby,” you coo into his soft curls, smelling his girly hair products that he absolutely isn’t shy about. “All twitchy already. Let it go, sweet.”
He nearly starts crying at your kind, patronizing words, his body getting ready to release and mixing his mind up.
The come makes a small mark on his pants and he pulls one of your thighs between his legs to—shamefully— hump through his orgasm.
It’s always magical to watch him finish, like his brain is short circuiting and all he wants is to be right up against your body.
You laugh quietly into his hair and he notices it as he starts to come down. He lets go of your thigh and pouts, staring down at the new stain on his pants.
“…don’t laugh…” he mumbles, embarrassed.
“I’m not laughing at you, Michael, I promise.” You shake your head, still laughing. “I just think it’s cute. Here— c’mon, kiss me.”
You pull his face up and kiss him, powering through his pout until he melts into the kiss.
“Do you feel better?” You ask after allowing him some time to calm down.
“Yes, much better.” He smiles bashfully. “And— and I… I guess I owe you an explanation for that little outburst…”
He nervously rubs the back of his neck.
“You don’t owe me anything.” You kiss him reassuringly. “But, yeah, do you wanna talk about that?”
It’s silent for a moment, and you can tell that this is a sensitive thing for him.
“…The… vitiligo. It’s, uhm… it’s spreading.” He finally admits, averting his eyes.
“Oh,” you frown, glancing down at his crotch. “You didn’t think I’d care about that, did you?”
“No, I— I didn’t think that you’d say anything.” He rushes to reassure you. “It’s just… I haven’t gotten used to it myself yet.”
“It’s okay, baby,” you take his hand and rub your thumb on the back of it. “I can’t imagine how something like this can mess with someone’s head.”
He smiles at you, his hands coming up to cup your cheeks and pull you in for a thankful kiss.
“You’re my favourite,” he whispers. “I love you I love you I love you—”
“Okay!” You giggle, pushing him off of you to save yourself from being smothered. “I love you too, sweet.”
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A/N: this wasn’t supposed to be angsty at all but here we are… I was half asleep writing this so if it doesn’t make sense, that’s why 😭 also this is my first Michael fic so lmk if you guys want more!
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