Minty

Mj x reader // friends to lovers // Chapter one

Michael Jackson x Female Reader

Pairing: Michael Jackson x Fem!Reader

Genre: Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn, Romance, Drama, Angst, Comfort, Emotional Healing, will eventually progress into 18+ content in later chapters. Mentions of verbal and physical abuse

Era: Begins during the early Thriller era (1982–1984) and follows Michael and Reader through multiple stages of his career.

Reader Background: Female Reader (Y/N), childhood friend of Michael and close to the Jackson family since childhood.

They were best friends long before he became Michael Jackson.She was there for the tears, the dreams, the fears, and the moments no one else ever saw. For years, their friendship survived everything life threw at them. Until fame changed the rules.

As the world demands more and more of Michael, the distance between them slowly grows. What begins as an attempt to protect their friendship may force them to confront feelings neither of them is ready to admit.

Having grown up alongside the Jackson family, she becomes Michael’s closest confidante, his safe place, and the keeper of his deepest secrets. But as his fame explodes, staying close to him comes at a price.

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Before the world took you // Chapter one

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The sharp scent of antiseptic hit you the moment you stepped into the room. Eventhough it was raining, a bit sunlight spilled through the curtains in long golden stripes, painting the floor in warm patches of amber. Michael sat curled into the corner of the oversized sofa, knees drawn close, dark curls falling over tired eyes. To anyone else he was already becoming a star, the boy with the dazzling smile and impossible talent, but to you he was simply Michael. The same Michael who had built blanket forts with you as a child, who stole your fries when he thought you weren't looking, who whispered his fears into the darkness during sleepless nights. You knew every version of him. The one the world applauded, and the one who sometimes sat trembling with tears in his eyes after another cruel word from his father. There were no masks here. No stages. No screaming crowds. Just the two of you, surrounded by years of secrets, loyalty, and a friendship that had become as natural as breathing.

For a second, you simply stared. Michael was sitting propped against a mountain of pillows, White bandages wrapped across the center of his face, disappearing beneath dark curls that looked as though he had been running his fingers through them all day. The sight stopped you cold.

“What happened?” you asked.

He immediately looked away. A bit embarrassed and shameful.

“Nothing.”

"Michael." You kept staring.

“It's not a big deal.”

You let out a disbelieving laugh.

“Not a big deal? You're covered in bandages.”

His jaw tightened.

You had known him long enough to recognize every defense mechanism, every attempt to retreat into himself. Most people would have backed off. But not you. You never did.

“You couldn't even tell me?” you pressed. “I had to hear from your brothers that you had surgery?”

The hurt in your voice surprised even you as his eyes flickered toward yours before dropping again.

“I didn't want anyone worrying.”

“Well, guess what? That's not your decision to make.”

Silence settled between you. Outside the window, rain tapped softly against the glass. You folded your arms.

“I don't understand.”

His shoulders stiffened.

“You don't have to.”

“Yes I do Michael. I need to understand”

The words came out sharper than intended.

“Because I've known your face my whole life, Michael.”

He froze. You immediately regretted the way it sounded, but the confusion had been building inside you since Jackie told you Michael had surgery on his face.

“Why would you do this?” you asked quietly. “You were handsome before. You know that, right?”

For a long moment he said nothing. Then his laugh came out small and bitter.

“That's easy for you to say. You don’t have a big nose”

Something about those words made your irritation falter.

You watched him stare at his hands. The room suddenly felt much quieter.

“I've been looking at myself differently than everyone else does for a long time.”

His voice was barely above a whisper.

“And sometimes when people tell you something often enough…” he swallowed. “You start hearing it even when they are not there anymore”

The anger drained out of you. Because suddenly you weren't looking at the bandages. You were seeing the little boy who used to cry in your arms after harsh words had cut deeper than anyone realized. The little boy who had spent years being told exactly what was wrong with him. The little boy who never seemed able to believe the compliments that came later. Your eyes burned.

“Oh Michael”

For the first time since you arrived, he looked at you. And beneath all the embarrassment, defensiveness, and pain, you could see it. Fear. Not fear of the surgery. Fear that when the bandages came off, the person who knew him better than anyone else might look at him differently.

Slowly, you moved across the room and sat beside him.

“I am just angry you didn't tell me, we never keep secrets from eachother” you said softly.

His lips twitched.

“I noticed.”

“But I'm not angry because of this.”

You carefully reached for his hand.

“You're still you.”

For a moment neither of you spoke. Then his fingers tightened around yours, and some of the tension left his shoulders.

Not all of it. But just enough to let him breathe again.

The conversation lingered in the air long after the words had faded. Michael was still holding your hand. Not tightly anymore. Just enough. As though letting go might somehow bring all the walls back up again.

You glanced toward the bandages. Then back at him.

“Can I see?”

Immediately, his expression changed.

“No.”

“Michael. Come on”

“No.”

You couldn't help smiling.

“You know saying no just makes me more curious.”

“I'm serious.”

“So am I.”

His eyes narrowed. You had seen that look before. Usually right before he lost an argument.

“You'll make fun of me.”

The accusation was so ridiculous that you actually laughed.

“I have never made fun of you.”

“You called my new jacket ugly in 1978.”

“Because it was ugly.”

“It was fashionable.”

“It looked like a couch”

A reluctant smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. There he was. The Michael you knew.

“You really want to see?” he asked quietly.

You nodded.

After a long hesitation, he slowly reached up and began loosening part of the bandaging.

You watched carefully, suddenly feeling guilty for pushing. The bruising was obvious. His skin looked swollen and tender. Everything was still healing.

Your heart sank immediately. Not because of how he looked. Because of how uncomfortable he must have been.

“Ouch”

Michael instantly looked away. You could practically see him bracing himself. But instead of shock, all you felt was sadness.

“That looks painful.”

His eyes flickered back to yours. Painful. You did not say ugly nor strange. But painful.

“It is,” he admitted.

You swallowed.

“Then why are you sitting here acting like you're fine?”

A soft laugh escaped him.

“I don't know.”

“You're terrible at letting people take care of you.”

“I know.”

“Good. At least we're making progress. You at least admit you’re terrible at letting people take care of you”

For a few moments, neither of you spoke. The afternoon light had begun to soften, casting long shadows across the room. Somewhere in the house, a record was playing quietly, barely audible through the walls.

Michael stared down at his hands.

“I wanted everything to be perfect.”

You sighed immediately.

“There it is again”

His brow furrowed.

“What?”

“That word. Perfect. Why does everything has to be PERFECT?”

A small smile appeared on his lips.

“You always hate that word.”

“Because you're obsessed with it.”

“I'm not obsessed.”

You gave him a stern look.

“Michael.”

“Okay, maybe a little”

“ A little?” you laughed. “You work harder than anyone I've ever met. Most people finish one thing and celebrate. You finish one thing and immediately start worrying about the next.”

He looked away, unable to hide the smile that crept across his face. You reached over and nudged his shoulder.

“You're allowed to be proud of yourself, you know.”

“I am.”

“You don’t act like it”

His gaze drifted toward the window. For a moment, he looked thoughtful.

“I am proud.”

The words came quietly.

“I worked hard for everything.”

You nodded. Because that was true. You had watched it happen. The endless rehearsals. The shows. The recording sessions that stretched into the early hours of the morning. All the pressure and the expectations. And the criticism.

Most people only saw the success. You had seen the cost.

“So what is it this time?” you asked softly.

His eyes brightened immediately. And there he was again. The artist. The dreamer. The part of him that came alive whenever he talked about music.

“I'm working on a new album.”

You smiled.

“I know that.”

“No, I mean...” He leaned forward slightly. “I think this one could be different.”

His excitement was contagious.

“Different how?”

Michael hesitated, searching for the words.

“Bigger.” His eyes sparkled. “I want every song to matter.” He gestured with his hands as he spoke. “I want people to hear it and feel something. I want it to be cinematic. Like every track belongs in its own world.”

You smiled.

“That sounds ambitious”

“It is.”

“What's it called?”

A grin slowly spread across his face.

“Thriller.”

You raised an eyebrow.

“Thriller?”

“I know, I know.”

“It's dramatic.”

He laughed. His laughter filled the room, and for a moment he looked excited and happy. Then the smile faded into something more serious. Something vulnerable.

“I think this album could change everything.”

The words hung between you. You studied him carefully.

“What does 'everything' mean?”

Michael looked down. When he spoke again, his voice was quieter.

“It means maybe people will finally stop seeing me as just a Jackson.”

Your heart squeezed. The room suddenly felt smaller. Because underneath all the talk about records and songs and success, you knew what he was really saying. He wasn't talking about music. Not entirely.

“I want something that's mine,” he admitted. “Not my father's.”

The silence that followed felt heavy. You remembered the tears. And the fear. The years of Michael trying desperately to earn approval that never seemed to come.

Michael swallowed. “I don't know if I'll ever really get away from him.”

The confession was barely audible. You moved closer.

“Michael.”

His eyes remained fixed on the floor.

“What if I never do?”

You shook your head.

“You will Michael. You will”

His gaze lifted.

“You just don't see it because you're standing in the middle of it.”

A small frown appeared on his face.

“You're not that scared little boy anymore.” The words made him look away.

“You've built something incredible. You’re doing it and I’m so proud of you” You squeezed his hand gently. “And one day people are going to hear your name and think of you. Not Joseph. Not the Jackson Five. Just you. Michael”

His eyes met yours again. For a moment, neither of you spoke. Then a shy smile appeared on his face. The kind of smile he only showed when he actually believed you. Even if it was only for a second.

“I hope you're right.”

You smiled back.

“I know I am.”

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And before you realized it, your mind drifted backward. Years backward. To a house filled with music. And fear.

You remembered how confusing it had all seemed when you were younger. One moment there would be laughter. The next, complete silence. The kind of silence that made everyone stop breathing. The kind that warned you something bad was coming.

You remembered hearing Joseph's voice from another room. Loud and Sharp. And angry. Cutting through walls like a knife. You remembered the cusses and the namecalling. The harsh criticisms. The impossible standards. The way Michael would shrink into himself whenever he heard footsteps approaching. Even as a child, you had noticed it. How quickly Michael’s smile disappeared eventhough you both would be laughing and giggling just seconds before. How carefully he measured every word when Joseph was appraoching. How hard he worked just to avoid making any mistake.

You had wanted to help. But you had been scared too. Everyone had been scared. And you were just a young girl. The memory hit you with startling clarity. You were thirteen. Maybe fourteen. Standing frozen in the hallway. Michael was on the receiving end of another lecture.Only this time it wasn't just yelling. You remembered the belt. The sound of it. The way your stomach had twisted. The way nobody moved. Because nobody wanted the attention turned toward them.

Your heart had been pounding so hard you thought you might faint. You still remembered gripping the wall beside you. Telling yourself not to move. Not to interfere. Not to make things worse. You wanted to run out of the house and back home to your mummy and daddy. Then Michael had looked up. Just for a second. And you had seen something in his eyes. It was not anger. Not even sadness. It was defeat. As if he had already accepted it. As if this was simply how life worked.

Something inside you had snapped. Before you could think about what you were doing, you had marched forward and straigth toward father and son. Straight between them. The memory still felt unreal.

You remembered Joseph staring at you as though you had lost your mind. You probably had. Because somehow your shaking hands had reached out and grabbed the belt. Actually grabbed it.

For a second nobody moved. Not Joseph. Not Michael. Not anyone.

You had been terrified. So terrified that tears filled your eyes. But you hadn't let go.

“Stop it.” You yelled

Your voice had cracked. You remembered that. You were scared to death.

“Stop it,” you'd repeated.

The room had gone completely silent. Joseph had looked genuinely stunned. As though the possibility of someone standing up to him had never crossed his mind. Especially not a teenage girl.

“What did you say?”

You remembered your knees trembling. All you wanted to do was run. Instead, you tightened your grip on the belt.

“He didn't do anything wrong.”

The words had flown out before you could stop them. The silence afterward had been deafening.

You had expected Joseph to yell. Expected him to throw you out. Instead, he had simply stared. Then looked at Michael. Then back at you. And for the first time in your life, you had seen uncertainty flash across his face. Just for a moment. Long enough for Michael to slip away. Long enough for the moment to break.

That evening you found Michael sitting on the porch crying. You sat beside him without saying a word. After nearly ten minutes of sobbing he had finally whispered,

“Why did you do that?”

You had stared out at the darkness.

“Because you are my best friend, Michael.”

You remembered the look on his face. As though the idea had never occurred to him. As though he genuinely couldn't understand why anyone would risk getting in trouble for him.

The memory made your chest ache. Back then he had been so young. He was convinced he had to earn love.Earn protection. Earn kindness. As though those things weren't supposed to be given freely.

The movement beside you pulled you back to the present. Michael was watching you.

“What are you thinking about?”

You blinked. A small smile touched your lips.

“Nothing.”

His eyes narrowed immediately.

“That's a lie.”

He laughed softly. You looked at him And you looked at the bandages and the bruising. There is still an uncertainty lingering behind his eyes. Then you saw something else. The same determination that had carried him through every obstacle life had thrown at him.

The same determination that had brought him here. To Thriller. To freedom. To becoming something entirely his own. And suddenly, for the first time, you found yourself believing your own words. One day people really would hear the name Michael and think only of him. Not because he had escaped his past. But because he had survived it.

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You did not know then just how right those words would become. Because after that, everything changed. Not all at once. Not overnight. But steadily. Like a wave that kept growing larger and larger until it became impossible to stop.

Thriller was released. And suddenly the world belonged to Michael Jackson. Everywhere you looked, there he was. Magazine covers. Television interviews. Radio stations. Billboards. Record stores.

His voice seemed to pour from every speaker in America. Then every speaker in the world.

At first, it felt exciting. You remembered sitting on his living room floor, grinning like an idiot while you nervously paced around during his television appearances. You remembered screaming louder than anyone when the album shattered records. You remembered calling him at ridiculous hours just to remind him that he was still the same dork who once wore the world's ugliest jacket. And somehow, despite everything, he never forgot to call you back.

But fame was hungry, and it wanted more. More appearances. More interviews. More performances.More travel. More Michael.

The world seemed determined to take every second it could from him. As if not enough, Joseph had forced the brothers on a joint tour. Days became weeks and weeks became months.His schedule became impossible.

You still talked. There would be late-night phone calls and quick conversations between rehearsals. Sometimes messages left on the answering machine.

However the friendship never disappeared. But it changed. Because life changed.

You attended concerts whenever you could, very often from backstage. . Sometimes from the wings. You loved watching thousands upon thousands of people scream his name. Watching grown adults cry simply because he looked in their direction. Watching entire stadiums move as one whenever he stepped onto a stage.

It was surreal.

Because no matter how loud the crowd became, part of your brain still remembered the shy boy sitting on a couch covered in bandages, worrying he wasn't good enough.

The world saw a superstar. You still saw Michael.

One evening after a sold-out show, you found yourself standing beside him near the backstage exit. Security guards surrounded the area. Fans were pressed against barriers outside.Photographers waited near the cars. The moment Michael stepped outside, flashes exploded. The crowd erupted. People screamed. Some even cried. Many reached toward him.

You were overwhelmed by the crowd and the blitz flashing all around you. You couldn’t even see. His hand found yours automatically. The way it always had. It was a familiar gesture. Nothing more, nothing less. And firmly he guided you towards the awaiting car. The next morning, your phone wouldn't stop ringing. Apparently the tabloids had a narrative ready.

"Michael Jackson's mystery girlfriend."

You stared at the headline in disbelief. Then laughed so hard you nearly spilled your coffee. When you finally got Michael on the phone, he was laughing too.

“I told you.”

“You told me what?”

“People think we're dating.”

You could practically hear him smiling.

"I think one magazine said we secretly got engaged”

You groaned. “Oh, that's my favorite one. This means you owe me a ring right?”

His laughter echoed through the receiver. The sound instantly made you smile. It always had, even after all these years. But when the laughter faded, the familiar ache returned. Because the call ended. Like they always did now. Too soon.

There’s always another interview. Another flight. Another rehearsal. Another obligation. Another piece of Michael claimed by the world.

You stared at the silent phone after hanging up. The apartment suddenly felt much emptier than before. And that frightened you. Because you missed him.

Not the celebrity. Not the performer. Not the global phenomenon. You missed your best friend. You missed movie nights. You missed spontaneous conversations that lasted until sunrise. You missed being able to find him whenever you needed him.

Sometimes it felt like the entire planet had gained Michael Jackson at the exact moment you had started losing him.

That thought made you feel guilty immediately. Because how could you possibly resent his success?

You were proud of him. No one was prouder. You had watched him fight for every inch of it. Watched him endure things that would have broken most people. You have witnessed him transform himself into something extraordinary. He deserved every standing ovation, and every award. Every screaming crowd.

And yet..sometimes, when you sat alone after another rushed phone call, you found yourself wishing the world would let him belong to himself for just one day.

Or selfishly, let him belong to you for one day.

The realization stopped you cold. You stared out the window as your heart suddenly beating a little too fast. You realized that thought didn't sound like friendship.Not entirely. And for the first time in your life, that possibility terrified you more than anything

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From Michael’s POV :

The strange thing about fame was that the more people claimed to know him, the lonelier Michael sometimes felt.Everywhere he went, there were people. Managers and dozens of bodyguards and executives. And the endless numbers of journalists. Fans. Thousands upon thousands of fans.

Yet somehow the world had become quieter. Less real. Conversations felt rehearsed. Compliments felt expected. Smiles often came with requests attached. Everyone wanted something. Whether it is a photograph or an autograph. Endless requests for performance. Everyone wanted a piece of him. And Michael gave it. Over and over again. Because he didn't know how not to.

But on the rare nights when he found himself alone in a hotel room halfway across the world, staring at a ceiling he didn't recognize, there was always one person he wanted to call.

You.

It had become a habit. A necessity, really. No matter what city he was in. No matter what time zone. No matter how exhausted he felt. His first thought after something exciting happened was always, I should tell her.

When Thriller broke another record. When he won another award. When he had an idea for a song. When something made him laugh. When something made him cry. When the pressure became too much. You were still the person he reached for.

The only problem was that lately, every time he called, the conversation ended too quickly. Not because either of you wanted it to. Because somebody always needed him.

“Michael, five minutes.”

“Mike, car’s here”

“MJ, they're waiting.”

One evening he sat alone backstage after a performance, still dressed in costume. The roar of the crowd could still be heard through the walls eventhough the show ended an hour ago. Yet thousands of people were still outside. Waiting. Praying for one more glimpse.

Michael stared at the phone in his dressing room. Then picked it up. He knew you probably wouldn't answer. It was late, but he dialed anyway.

To his surprise, you picked up on the second ring.

“Hey.”

The sound of your voice instantly made him smile.

“Hey you”

“You sound tired.”

“I am. I just finished a 3 hour show”

A pause.

“Was the show good?”

Michael laughed softly. Only you would ask it like that. Not how many people attended. Not what celebrities were there. Not how loud the crowd was. Just, was the show good?

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “It was good.”

“I'm proud of you.”

The words hit harder than they should have. For a moment, Michael couldn't speak. He heard praise constantly. Every day. From everyone. But somehow it never sounded quite the same. Not as much as when it came from you. Eventually he smiled.

“Thank you.”

Another silence settled between you. The kind that only existed between people who had known each other most of their lives.

“You know,” you said suddenly. “I saw another tabloid today.”

Michael groaned immediately. “Oh no.”

“They've upgraded us.”

His eyes narrowed. “What does that mean?”

“Apparently we're secretly married now."

He burst out laughing. Not a polite laugh. A real one. The kind that doubled him over.

“Really? Secretly married?”

“Mhm. Now you owe me an engagement ring and a wedding ring”

Your laughter joined his. For a few moments it felt exactly like old times. No fame. No pressure. No expectations. Just you and him.

Then the laughter faded.

Michael found himself smiling at the sound of your voice. Smiling because you were there. Because after everything had changed, you hadn't. The realization lingered longer than it should have. Long enough to make him uncomfortable.

Because lately he had started noticing things. How much he missed you. How every event felt a little better when you attended. How he looked for you automatically in every crowd. How he saved stories specifically because he wanted to tell you about them later. How his day somehow felt incomplete if he hadn't heard your voice.

It was ridiculous. You were his best friend. Had been for years. Nothing had changed. Nothing was different.

And yet...

When reporters asked if you were dating, he found himself laughing a little too hard. Denying it a little too quickly. Thinking about the question long after the interview ended. That couldn't mean anything. Could it?

“Michael?”

Your voice pulled him back.

“Hm?”

“You still there?”

His smile returned immediately.

“Yeah. Still here”

Always. For you, always, he thought to himself.

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Most people assumed you were part of the entertainment industry. It was a reasonable assumption. After all, you spend a lot of time with one of the most famous entertianer on Earth. You attended concerts. Award shows. Industry parties

Yet somehow you belonged to none of those worlds. And you preferred it that way.

The truth was much less glamorous. You worked as an elementary school teacher. Most of your days were spent helping seven-year-olds learn how to read, breaking up arguments over crayons, and convincing children that glue was not food. It was a life so dramatically different from Michael's that people often laughed when they heard about it.

You didn't mind. At least not at first. You loved your job. Loved the routine. Loved the normalcy.

In fact, none of your students had any idea that you were friends with Michael Jackson. To them, you were simply Miss x/y The teacher who always carried extra pencils. The teacher who stayed late to help struggling students. The teacher who somehow remembered everybody's birthday

Because before Michael Jackson became Michael Jackson... You had both simply been kids growing up in Gary. Your mother and Katherine Jackson had become friends long before anyone knew what the future would bring. Back then, life had been simpler. Your families borrowed sugar from each other. Shared meals. You both had run in and out of eachothers houses without knocking. You had spent so much time at the Jackson home that eventually nobody bothered asking why you were there.

You simply belonged. The Jackson brothers and sisters became part of your daily life. There were games in the yard and arguments over board games. Homework spread across kitchen tables. Music drifting through hallways.

And somewhere along the way, one particular friendship had quietly become something irreplaceable.

Michael.

You couldn't pinpoint exactly when it happened. There was no single moment. No dramatic event. Just years. Years of shared secrets. Years of laughter. Years of growing up together. Years of understanding each other in ways nobody else could.

That was why the tabloids never made sense to you. They always wanted a beginning. A headline. A scandal. A grand romance. But your story with Michael didn't have a beginning. At least not one you could remember. He had simply always been there. As familiar as breathing. As permanent as home.

And perhaps that was why you never noticed how extraordinary the friendship had become. Because when something has existed your entire life, you stop questioning it. You start assuming it will always be there. Just as you assumed Michael would always answer the phone. Always be by your aide and always remain your best friend. No matter how much the rest of the world changed.

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At first, nobody at school seemed particularly interested. Most people simply didn't know. You couldn't really blame them. The idea sounded ridiculous even if you were to say it out loud. Yes, you had grown up with Michael Jackson. Yes, he was your best friend. No, you didn't have any interesting stories to tell. Yes, he really was that nice. No, you couldn't get them concert tickets. The conversation usually ended there.

For years, your worlds remained surprisingly separate. At school, you were simply Miss x/y. The teacher.

Then Michael became impossible to ignore. Thriller happened. The moonwalk happened. And suddenly the entire world knew his name. Even your students were informed, little by little.

It started innocently. A little girl approached your desk one morning carrying a magazine.

“Miss x/y ?”

You looked up from grading papers.

“Yes?”

The child pointed to a photograph. Your stomach immediately dropped.

It was you.

Standing beside Michael outside an awards show. The picture wasn't even interesting. You were laughing at something he had said. That was all. But the headline suggested otherwise.

The little girl frowned.

“Is this you?”

Twenty tiny heads immediately turned toward your desk. You closed the magazine very carefully.

“Let's focus on math.”

That only made them more curious. By lunchtime the entire school seemed to know. By the end of the week, parents knew too. Most were harmless. They are all just curious and friendly. But curiosity had a way of growing. Questions became more personal and more invasive.

Some parents seemed fascinated. Others seemed skeptical. One mother actually requested a meeting. You assumed it concerned her son. Instead she spent the entire meeting asking questions about Michael. His house. His schedule. His life. You left the meeting exhausted. And strangely angry. Because none of it had anything to do with your work.

The real trouble started a few weeks later. A reporter called the school. Then another.Then another. They gathered outside at the school gate. The administration wasn't thrilled. Neither were you. For the first time in your career, your personal life had become a professional problem.

One afternoon the principal called you into her office. Your stomach twisted immediately. You already knew why. The newspaper was sitting on her desk. A photograph of you and Michael occupied nearly half the front page. You closed your eyes.

The principal sighed.

“It's becoming a distraction, x/y. I’m sorry, I cannot let this continue. This is afterall, a school”

The words stung more than you expected. Because teaching mattered to you. It wasn't a hobby. It wasn't something you did while waiting for your real life to begin. It was your real life. Suddenly people were acting as though your entire identity revolved around being Michael Jackson's friend, or as they thought, the mystery girlfriend.

After the meeting with the principal, you went atraight home. The appartement was quiet. Normally this place felt like a happy place. Today it didn't. You found yourself staring at the newspaper on the kitchen counter. At the photograph. At the smiling faces. A friendship that had once belonged entirely to you and Michael, now seemed to belong to everyone else.

The phone rang. You knew who it was before answering.

“Hello?”

There was a lingering silence.

“I heard.”

The sound of his voice immediately softened some of your frustration. Not all of it. But just enough.

“It's not your fault.”

The words came automatically. Because you already knew what he was thinking.

Another silence. Longer this time. Then quietly, “It feels like it is.” You closed your eyes.

For a moment neither of you spoke. Because deep down, both of you knew something had changed. Not the friendship. Never that. But the world around it. And neither of you knew how to protect it anymore.

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At first, the distance happened so gradually that neither of you seemed to notice. One missed event. Then another. Then a concert invitation politely decline. Then a charity gala. Then an awards show.

The excuses were always reasonable. And that was what made them so difficult to argue with.

The truth was that you still wanted to go. You missed those nights. Missed sitting backstage listening to Michael ramble about music. Missed watching him transform the moment he stepped onto a stage. Missed laughing with him in hotel rooms at two in the morning when neither of you could sleep. You missed all of it. But lately, every appearance came with consequences.

You have atarted a new job and the questions have already begun. Questions from parents. Questions from coworkers. Questions from strangers. Reporters calling places they had no business calling. Photographs taken when you weren't looking. Stories invented by people who had never met either of you. It had become exhausting.

You weren't angry at Michael. You never could be. But you were tired. And more importantly, you had started realizing something uncomfortable. If you wanted to keep your life your own, you needed boundaries. Not because Michael was doing anything wrong. Because the world around him had changed. And there was nothing either of you could do about it. So you began saying no. A little more often. A little more firmly. Every single time it hurt.

The first concert you missed, you spent half the evening staring at the clock. The first awards show you declined, you found yourself wondering what Michael was doing every few minutes. The first time he invited you somewhere and you chose not to go, you cried afterward.

You weren't ending a friendship. You were simply creating healthier boundaries. That was all. At least that's what you kept telling yourself.

Across the country, Michael noticed almost immediately.

At first he didn't think much of it. He understood life happened and you got busy. You had your own career and your own responsibilities. He understood that. Or at least he thought he did.

Then another invitation was declined. Then another. Then another. The phone calls became shorter. Not less warm. Just shorter. And suddenly Michael found himself checking the calendar before calling. Wondering whether you would be busy. Wondering whether you wanted to talk. Wondering things he had never wondered before.

One evening he found himself standing backstage after a performance, scanning the crowd automatically. He was looking for a face that wasn't there. The realization hit harder than expected. Because for years, no matter where he was in the world, some part of him always expected to find you nearby. Backstage. In the audience. Waiting afterward. Smiling at him from somewhere in the crowd.

Now there was only empty space

“Mikey, You okay?”

Michael blinked. Marlon was looking at him.

“Hm?”

“You seem distracted.”

Michael forced a smile. “I'm fine.”

It was a lie.

Not because anything terrible had happened That was the problem. There had been no fight. No argument. No dramatic goodbye. Just distance. The kind that couldn't be fixed because nobody knew exactly what was wrong.

Later that night, alone in his hotel room, Michael found himself reaching for the phone. His fingers hovered over your number. Then stopped.

You were probably asleep, he thought to himself. Or busy. Or out with friends.

The thought shouldn't have bothered him. Yet somehow it did.

He set the phone down. Picked it up again. Set it down once more.

He laughed at himself sadly. Because for the first time in his life, calling you no longer felt automatic. And he hated that.

Meanwhile, hundreds of miles away, you sat alone on your couch with a stack of papers waiting to be graded. The television played quietly in the background. You weren't watching it. Instead your eyes drifted toward the telephone. You wondered if Michael had enjoyed the concert. You wondered which songs he had performed. You wondered whether he missed you.

The thought lingered.

You ignored the pain in your chest and picked up your grading pen as you tried very hard not to notice how much quieter your life had become without him in it.

~<3 <3 <3 ~

Not sure what to make of this story yet, if I'm being honest. 😅 I have plenty of ideas floating around in my head, scenes, conversations, little moments, and a rough direction for where I want the story to go. The challenge is turning all of those ideas into actual words on a page.

I'm definitely not an experienced writer, so please be gentle with me. ❤️ I write because I enjoy it, because I love storytelling, and because these characters have somehow taken up residence in my brain.

This is very much a work in progress, but I wanted to share it anyway. Thank you to everyone who's reading along, leaving comments, and encouraging me as I figure things out chapter by chapter.

Hopefully you'll enjoy this journey as much as I'm enjoying writing it.

Synopsis: Your childhood best friend moved away without warning. Years later, he comes back...but you're already in a relationship, leaving you in an impossible position. Right person, wrong time.

Theme: Romance, Angst, Longing, Childhood friends-to-lovers, Temporary unrequited love.

Content warning: brief mentions of eating problems

Tag for my angel: @botdfaholic (forgive me, My sweets. This has part one and two! I added: ⟡ to mark where part 2 begins so you don't have to reread part one)

꒰ა𑣲໒꒱ pairing: Michael x Reader

꒰ྀི১ꨄ︎໒꒱ིྀ꒰ྀི১ꨄ︎໒꒱ིྀ꒰ྀི১ꨄ︎໒꒱ིྀ꒰ྀི১ꨄ︎໒꒱ིྀ꒰ྀི১ꨄ︎໒꒱ིྀ꒰ྀི১ꨄ︎

Confetti and streamers rained down on you as your parents celebrated your 7th birthday. The colorful confetti covered your vision for a moment, and happiness lit up your face. Despite not having any friends show up to the party, your siblings and parents made sure you still had fun.

Your pink plastic fork dug into the moist, delightful slice of cake you were offered, and frosting coated your mouth and cheeks as you ate, completely lost in your own world.

Once the party was over and your siblings were complaining under their breath while cleaning up the mess, you decided to go outside and play. "Mama! I'm going outside to play!" you shouted while putting your shoes on.

You held the doorknob, looking into the house as you waited for her approval.

"Be back before it gets dark!"

At the sound of her voice, you pushed the door open and ran onto the sidewalk.

You didn't have many toys, but you did get a brand-new, colorful set of chalk to play with. You drew on the sidewalk absentmindedly when a pair of small feet appeared in your line of vision. Looking up and squinting against the hot sun, you saw a boy who looked to be around your age. He rubbed the back of his neck while shyly mumbling something to you.

"Pardon... I didn't hear you," you said as you stood up. "Can I play with you?" he asked, his voice soft and filled with hesitation. You took his hand and nodded once.

"Yeah! You wanna draw with me?" The boy's face immediately lit up when you agreed, and he nodded enthusiastically.

The two of you sat down on the grass and drew all over the sidewalk. He drew a map to Neverland and took you on an adventure, climbing trees and playing pretend as if he were Peter Pan and you were his Tinker Bell.

You learned his name was Michael, the boy who lived next door to you. Every afternoon, you would knock on his door and wait for him to come outside so the two of you could play.

Adventures to Neverland became the norm. Climbing trees and telling each other secrets were things only the two of you did.

One afternoon, you told him that you didn't have many friends, feeling insecure about your lack of them, only for him to quietly admit the same thing.

Shocked, you quickly exclaimed, "How? You're kind and funny, and your hairstyle looks great on you!"

He got flustered and stammered, "Yeah... that's not what I meant."

You tilted your head in confusion. "Then what do you mean?" He kept looking away before finally meeting your eyes.

"Well... last night was actually the first show I ever did. I'm in the Jackson 5 now... on... Motown 25..." His voice kept fading as insecurity and fear filled him. He was afraid that once you found out he was an up-and-coming star, you'd view him differently.

Your brows furrowed before it finally clicked.

"Oh..."

Silence stretched between the two of you. You felt knots form in your stomach. One of your biggest insecurities, and the reason you didn't have many friends, was because your parents weren't the wealthiest. Every time you tried to make friends, they would talk about cartoon channels you couldn't afford. The kids at school thought you were strange for never talking about cartoons, choosing instead to read books, which they found boring.

Tears stung the corners of your eyes as you looked down at your lap and quietly muttered,

"I don't have cable... We only have four channels... Motown 25 isn't one of them."

You sniffled, unable to look at him.

You glanced up at him, believing you were about to lose him, that he no longer wanted to be your friend. Gathering your courage, you quietly asked,

"Well... does it matter? ...Can I still be your friend?" Michael blinked, startled that not only did you not care, but you still wanted to be his friend. His head nodded so quickly you thought it might fall off.

"Ye-yeah!" His voice cracked with excitement, and he immediately looked away, completely flustered. You tried to hold back your laughter but ended up giggling, which only made him laugh too.

"Pinky promise, Mikey? No matter how big of a star you become... we'll still be friends?"

Before you could even finish your promise, his pinky was already linked around yours.

"I pinky promise!"

Despite your hangouts becoming less frequent now that Michael was working night and day, he was either at school or practicing for a show.

You started rebelling, desperate to see him.

Once night had completely fallen and your house was quiet enough to hear a pin drop, you would climb out of your window and tap on Michael's.

Michael was practicing his dance moves alone in his room when he heard a rhythmic tapping against the glass. He glanced back, a little frightened, thinking it might be one of the night monsters his brothers always tried to scare him with.

His shoulders tensed all the way up to his ears, but the moment he saw your wide eyes peeking through the window, he let out the breath he'd been holding.

"Wh-What are you doing?" he squeaked, afraid of waking his father. You simply gestured for him to open the window, your toes beginning to ache from standing on them for so long.

He pushed the window open before grabbing your hands and pulling you inside with all his strength. The two of you ended up tripping and tumbling onto his bedroom floor, but you didn't care. You only smiled brightly.

"Michael!" you exclaimed, but he quickly shushed you.

"Shh! They're all asleep!"

Blushing in embarrassment, you nodded and kept your mouth shut.

This soon became a ritual.

Before a show or gig, Michael would tell you to come over because he would only have the night before as a day off. So, you would sneak over to his window, and the two of you would quietly play card games, trying your hardest to hold back your laughter.

Sometimes, the two of you would hide beneath his blankets and read more Peter Pan stories together. Some nights, Michael would grow unusually quiet. You had become so observant that you could tell he was dealing with emotions far bigger than himself.

Those nights stood out the most. All you would do was hold him, and eventually, he would wrap his arms around you too. Neither of you needed to say a word. Holding each other was enough, it was exactly what you both needed.

As time went on, it became harder and harder to meet up. Michael would travel far away for shows and return days later. Sometimes, he couldn't even tell you where he was going. The distance between you grew, and so did your sadness.

You would wake up in the middle of the night and cry softly into your hands, staying as quiet as possible so you wouldn't wake anyone.

One afternoon, you saw Michael and his family packing their things. You ran toward them, hoping to catch up to Michael and maybe ask his parents if the two of you could hang out.

The look on his face made your heart sink. He already looked defeated before he even spoke the words that made your whole world tilt.

"We're moving... to Encino."

You couldn't help but feel as though your whole world was caving in. You had just started believing that he was going to be your best friend for the rest of your life, not for just six short years.

"...Why? But... you'll come back to Indiana, right?"

Michael stayed quiet, giving a small shake of his head. He was too afraid to see the look on your face.

"I don't think so..."

For someone so young, you never expected to experience such a deep sadness. After he left, you didn't want to go outside anymore. You grew quieter, pushed food around your plate, and left your books untouched. Your parents grew more worried with each passing day.It was difficult for them as well, watching their bright little girl become so dim.

The loneliness was what stayed with you.

Although you had his new house phone number, it was nearly impossible to get an answer from either him or his parents. You left countless voice messages, only receiving one in return every month or so. As the years passed, even those stopped coming.

You hadn't seen Michael since he moved away.

But when you finally reached high school, your parents were able to buy you a radio for your 16th birthday. You were overjoyed and immediately ran to your room. Plugging the radio in, you immediately started searching for that unmistakable sweet voice, the one you would recognize anywhere.

Then the radio clicked onto a station, and you heard him.

"One day in your life, you'll remember a place / Someone touching your face, do you believe she was true to you?"

You stayed frozen on your bed.

Those lyrics felt familiar.

Were you still... in his memories?

"One Day in Your Life" became your comfort song. You would always hope it would start playing whenever you missed him too much. You wondered if he was still the same.

He definitely sounded the same, just more mature and sure of himself.

You only caught glimpses of him in newspapers or through your friends' magazines. You started saving your lunch money to buy The Jacksons magazines, reading every page as a way to feel connected to him. There were little stories about him and his brothers, what they liked, what they hated, their type in girls, what they liked to eat, and what they did during breaks.

You already knew most of the things Michael would say. Reading the interviews only confirmed what you already believed.

He was still that tree-climbing Peter Pan from your childhood.

Though sadness gnawed at your heart, you couldn't help but feel like just another fan in love with a celebrity, even though you knew Michael's secrets and insecurities. It felt so incredibly unfair that the world had swept your dearest friend away from you.

You moved out of Gary, indiana after you graduated from high school and went on to college, majoring in accounting. It wasn't really what you wanted, but it was stable enough to build a future. Michael's career only continued to flourish with each passing day. He was loved by millions.

You loved him.

In private, you tried to move on and even explored your sexuality. You went on blind dates and even let your new friends play matchmaker. But whenever you were with someone, your mind always wandered back to Michael.

Eventually, you convinced yourself that second best was all you'd ever have.

So you started dating.

You knew how much Michael had wanted this life, and you couldn't help but feel proud that he was living his dream.

During finals season, while you sat with your head in your hands, an upbeat, funky disco rhythm burst from your radio. Frustrated by the pressure of college, you got up to turn it off, only to hear Michael's unmistakable voice.

"Don't Stop 'Til You Get Enough."

It was him. You'd recognize that voice anywhere.

As the years passed, you only saw Michael through magazines and interviews. Whenever you missed him too much, you would replay his old voice messages just to hear him again.

Eventually, you caved in.

You decided to buy his album as a form of closure. He was worlds away from your ordinary life.

Off the Wall.

You picked it up, staring at his face on the cover. You didn't feel sadness anymore.

It was something different. Something you couldn't quite name. You wandered through the aisles of the music store, absentmindedly running your fingers along the edges of the records. The sound of hurried footsteps and the rapid clicking of camera shutters caught your attention.

You glanced toward the growing crowd, wondering what all the commotion was about. As you made your way toward the bright flashes and excited voices, you saw him.

Your eyes widened the moment they landed on him.

He was smiling, signing autographs for fans, and posing for pictures, completely in his element. Suddenly, you felt shy, clutching his album tightly against your chest.

Then his eyes met yours. His smile slowly faded as recognition dawned on his face.

He remembered you. Immediately, he started walking toward you, reaching out his hand. But the fans misunderstood and began grabbing at his hands and arms, believing he was reaching out to them instead.

The crowd quickly became too overwhelming, and his security rushed in to pull him away. Even as he was being escorted through the crowd, he never took his eyes off you. You watched him try to tell someone that he needed to get to you, but his words were swallowed by the chaos.

Eventually, the crowd either followed after him or dispersed, leaving you standing there as everything returned to the ordinary life you were used to.

Your heart hammered in your chest.

He was there.

You had been so close to him.

You returned to your dorm completely dazed, unsure of what to make of the fact that you had just seen him...

And that he recognized you.

You stared at the album in your hands, a wave of shyness washing over you.

He remembered you.

That was more special than anything.

You tried to focus on your studies, you really did, but how could you when he had reached his hand out to you?

On the morning of your last final, you woke up late.

You rushed toward the exam hall, bumping into people and repeatedly smashing the elevator buttons. Eventually, you gave up and sprinted up the stairs, nearly tripping over your own feet.

You stumbled into the exam hall out of breath, your heart pounding as you clutched your pen and tried to focus on the paper in front of you.

Unbeknownst to you, over the past few days since your encounter with Michael, he had been trying to reach you the entire time.

He called your parents' house, your college, and your dormitory. When his call finally connected to your phone, you weren't there to answer it.

With a heavy heart, he left you a voice message, asking if the two of you could meet somewhere private. He wanted to reconnect before he had to say goodbye again.

Exhausted and completely spent, you returned to your dormitory and flopped onto your bed.

You noticed the dorm phone blinking, signaling that a voice message was waiting for you.

Assuming it was your parents asking when you'd be coming home for summer break, you closed your eyes and drifted off to sleep.

Meanwhile, Michael paced back and forth, wondering when you would call him back. But once the clock struck 2 a.m., he reluctantly gave up and headed to the studio.

The next morning came far too quickly.

Peeling your tired eyes open, you reached forward and picked up the house phone, wanting to listen to the voice message before you forgot.

As the static faded and the beep sounded, you heard a familiar, nervous laugh.

"It's Applehead!

Um... I was wondering if maybe we could meet up somewhere? Possibly tomorrow night? We could see a movie... It'd be really nice to catch up with you...

So, I can call you tomorrow and check if you're free... y'know, before I have to say goodbye for the Victory Tour.

I'll tell you all about it tomorrow...

Thank you... and goodnight."

You fucking idiot.

You shot upright the moment you heard his voice through the phone. You were completely stunned. Not only had he found you, but he had called you... and you had slept through it.

Tomorrow night.

Which meant...

Tonight.

Movie night.

You nervously got to your feet and looked through your closet, too afraid to call him back just yet.

You picked out an outfit before pacing back and forth around your small dorm room.

Do I call him now? No... he's busy. He's literally a star. He's not just Applehead anymore, he's Michael Jackson. I can't just casually call him... can I?

You reached for the phone, found his number, and dialed it.

The ringing felt agonizingly slow, making your stomach twist into knots.

Please leave a message after the tone.

Of course.

You knew he'd be busy.

You sighed and decided to keep it short.

"Hey... uh... yeah! I'd love to see a movie tonight. Just... call me back whenever you're free.

Talk to you soon.

Bye."

You gently placed the phone back on its receiver, sighing to yourself at yet another missed opportunity to speak with him.

Once night had fallen, you waited by the phone anxiously, determined not to miss his call again. At the very first ring, you picked it up so quickly that you accidentally smacked the receiver against your ear.

"Hello?"

"Hi, sweetheart. When are you coming home to visit?" You hated that you were disappointed that it was your worried mother.

"...Mom... uh... I don't know... Can I call you back? I have something urgent."

"Is something wrong?"

"No, nothing! I... just... I'll call you back!"

"Dear, if you're in trouble—"

"Mom! Please!"

You hung up on your mother.

Taking a deep breath to calm yourself, you nearly jumped when the phone rang again. You quickly picked it up, holding your breath, worried it might be your mother calling back.

"Hi, It's me... Michael." He said shyly and you nervously replied. "Hi Michael..." he nervously repeated himself. "Hi... it's been a while." Your palms were sweating and you felt hot and cold at the same time.

"Yeah... yeah, you could say that." He cleared his throat.

"So... how's life been?" You shrugged not sure what to really say.

"...Just... peachy."

He laughed softly.

"Haha... uh... I saw you at the record store. I thought you were still in Gary, so I tried calling your house there..."

Before either of you realized it, you had spent hours on the phone. The movie had completely slipped your minds as the conversation flowed effortlessly, as though you'd never been apart.

You suddenly gasped.

"Michael! The movie! Shouldn't we go?"

His own gasp came through the receiver.

"Yeah! The movie! I'll come pick you up! Don't worry!"

He hung up, and you stared at the phone in disbelief.

You quickly snapped out of it, got dressed, and rushed out of your dormitory building. You waited on the sidewalk, wondering if you'd even recognize his car.

Then you saw a Rolls-Royce Silver Spirit pull up and stop beside you. Michael rolled the window down, leaned over, and opened the passenger door for you.

You climbed inside and sat beside him nervously. The two of you looked at each other for a moment before smiling brightly and pulling each other into a tight embrace.

He was warm against you.

The feeling took you right back to when he used to hug you while the two of you sat on tree branches or when he'd help pull you up onto a higher one.

When you finally let go, Michael signaled to his chauffeur to drive to the theater.

The two of you exchanged awkward glances before laughing softly.

Finally, Michael broke the silence.

"Um... you look... pretty." His cheeks visibly reddened.

"Thank you... you too. Fancy car... and a chauffeur..." you trailed off looking around the cars interior. He laughed nervously, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Yeah... yeah... all fancy."

A comfortable silence settled between the two of you. Somehow, talking face-to-face felt much harder than talking over the phone.

After a moment, he quietly spoke.

"I never meant to break our promise. I really did try to keep in touch."

You nodded, smiling softly.

"I know..."

Almost instinctively, the two of you reached for each other's hands, intertwining your fingers just like you used to.

Michael told you all about Thriller and the upcoming tour, while you told him about college and what it had been like moving away from home.

You talked the entire way to the theater.

The only thing capable of silencing your nonstop chatter was the movie's opening music.

Throughout the film, Michael kept stealing little glances at you.

Eventually, he pretended to stretch, lifting his arms over his head before awkwardly resting one around your shoulders, gently pulling you closer. You smiled at his shy attempt to keep you near and rested your head against him.

After the movie ended and the lights came back on, Michael turned toward you. The two of you simply looked at each other, quietly taking in how much the other had changed.

His eyes flickered down to your lips for the briefest moment before returning to yours.

Slowly, he leaned in, giving you every opportunity to pull away if you wanted to.

You were just about to close your eyes and accept his affection when guilt stabbed you sharply in the stomach.

You swallowed hard before quietly blurting out,

"I'm dating someone."

⟡ Michael stopped and leaned back into his chair. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to...I...you didn't tell me...uh...how's it...going?"   You swallowed your nerves, your throat having gone dry and feeling a tightness in your chest at his saddened expression. "It's only been a few months...maybe 2..."He nodded his head, not looking at you, biting the inside of his cheek, "Mhm." He seemed disappointed. You wanted nothing more than for the ground to open up and swallow you whole. All of a sudden the theater felt stuffy and too small. He cleared his throat and said, "Let me drive you home; it's late." He got up quickly, and you scurried behind him.

Was he upset? Was he mad at you for being in a relationship? You couldn't tell what was going on in his mind. He opened the car door for you and let you in before getting in himself. The car ride was strikingly different from the ride before. He didn't look at you as much, only glanced once or twice to make sure you were ok and not too cold.

"I'm dating someone" felt like poison in a well while you both thirsted.

Once the car stopped at your dormitory building you wanted nothing more than to escape from the car as if it were burning. You pushed open the car door while muttering a quiet goodbye to him. You walked away with your head down, feeling disappointment linger in your emotions. Were you disappointed by the fact that you were in a relationship? Or disappointed that he couldn't kiss you? Well, both answers were similar.

You felt guilty for trapping your partner into a relationship where you weren't fully in yourself. You knew you could put more effort in; you did move on from Michael. Well, at least you thought you did. You didn't believe that you could have fallen for him while he was away. You made it to your dorm room in a daze; you kicked your shoes off and sat on the edge of your bed. The urge to call him made you mindlessly start to dial his number. You placed the receiver in your ear, your fingers reaching for the dials, only for Michael's voice to be heard.

"You picked up quick"

Your heart hammered hard; you weren't expecting him to call you, let alone for your timings to be in unison.

"How funny," you said with fake confidence.

"I just wanted to check in on you... you made it safe to your dorm?" You felt shy; your partner never called your dorm to check in on you, only dropping you off. "Yeah, I'm in my dorm..."

You could hear the small sigh of relief in his voice. "That's good. I wanted to apologise as well... I didn't mean to end our night on a sour note... I'm sorry."

You fidgeted with a phone cord nervously. "It's alright..." but it wasn't, but what could you have possibly said that wouldn't make you sound hypocritical.

"Can we still hang out as friends?"

A cold wave of relief flushed over you as you nodded your head. "Yeah, of course. You pinky promised after all," he chuckled a little. "Yeah, I did. I'm going to keep it." When the call ended there were many unspoken words and feelings lingering on both ends. Michael only stared at the phone, upset he didn't try harder to find you and make you his while he had the time.

Michael was always in love with you. His brothers teased him for liking you when you both were kids. But in his mind you were an angel sent from heaven just for him. You inspired many of his romantic songs. Your sweet face would always appear in his mind when he was writing; you were also his muse. Whenever he felt stuck or couldn't get the right words out, the memory of you would soothe his mind and the muse would pour out of him.

Michael lay in his bed staring up at the ceiling lost in his thoughts. He wasn't just upset; he felt grief. He always wanted you by his side; he never wanted fame to take him away from you. He mourned deeply what you two had and could have had. His heart ached painfully because now you were here but not in the way he wanted. He should be happy for you for moving forward in your life for finding love but that left a bitter taste in his mouth. It wasn't bittersweet; it was disgustingly loathsome bitterness.

The sickness twisted in his stomach making him toss and turn in bed. He wanted to hear your voice again; he wanted to be selfish but as he reached for the phone to dial you up the image of you lying in your partner's arms made his face sour completely. It sat in the pit of his stomach, churning away at his abdomen like a live virus. He wasn't the jealous type; he was the mourning type.

You were no better, tossing and turning more than he was. Your relationship wasn't something you went into just for the sake of it. You were already committed; you didn't want to be selfish and back out now; that was unfair, hypocritical, and unlike you.

You always prided yourself for being fiercely loyal to the people you love; now said pride was being challenged.

Love was a complicated thing. You were torn between the relationship you had built and the man you feared might be the love of your life.

You did like Michael; fear held you back. His fame, his father, his growing fans. You felt as though you didn't deserve him but now it all felt like you lost your chance. You wondered how his lips would have felt against yours if you didn't confess your relationship. You wondered, would you have been in his arms right now instead of on an empty bed? Those thoughts circled your head, mixing guilt and longing in your chest. Why did he have to go and make things so complicated? The early morning light shone through your blinds; you had stayed up all night conflicted by your situation.

Desperately not wanting to face the day, you pulled the covers over your head, hiding away and letting the exhaustion settle in. You didn't realise you had fallen asleep till you felt a hand gently pull the covers away from you and your partner's familiar voice speaking. "You awake? You overslept... it's the afternoon."

You groaned and opened your eyes; looking at your partner made the shame twist at your heart. Sluggishly sitting up, you rubbed your eyes.

"I wanna take you out on a date today... since you finished finals." Now the guilt only felt painful. You smiled politely. "Where are you gonna take me?" Your partner smiled and sat next to you, wrapping their arm around your shoulder, pulling you in. It reminded you of how Michael pulled you in at the movies last night, how gentle and shy his action was; you smiled at the memory, then looked at your significant other. "I wanna take you out for lunch, get you some cake and maybe spoil you with a milkshake." You laughed shyly, nodding; you couldn't stop the thought of, "If I was with Michael he would have surprised me and said lunch, not act like he was spoiling me with a slice of cake or a drink."

You got dressed for your lunch date; while doing your makeup, your significant other admired you, complimenting your beauty and kissing your skin every now and then. You felt shy; you wondered if Michael would have gone the same. Would he have had you sitting on his lap while you applied your blush, or would he have kissed your lips making it impossible to put on your lipgloss? Would Michael have held you from behind, or would he have rested his chin on top of your head like how he used to when you played pretend in Neverland?

At the restaurant, your mind kept going back to Michael. You knew he would have held your hand on the table. You knew he would have sat next to you instead of in front of you. You knew he would look at your menu instead of his; his knees would probably bump into yours while he acted like he wasn't doing it on purpose. You ordered your food and ate lunch while your significant other did most of the talking.

Getting embarrassingly full too fast, you decided to stick with your celebratory milkshake, sipping on it while listening to your partner. At the end of your date, your partner held your hand and walked you back, having to end the date a little soon because of their part time job.

Once at your building, they held your waist and pulled you in, and you felt shame, and when they kissed your lips your mind drifted back to Michael. You were utterly disgusted by yourself. Walking back to your dorm room you shut the door harder than you wanted to, the frustration doubled as tears stung in your eyes.

The whole time you were thinking of him. There wasn't a single thing your lover did that wouldn't remind you of Michael.

How could you? How could you betray your committed loving partner for someone who came into your life too late?

Frustration wasn't the only thing gnawing at your soul. You couldn't name it. But it took your appetite and energy. You lay on your bed as tears welled in your eyes, letting them fall on your pillow. Your phone rang, cutting through the silence; you weakly reached out and answered the call.

"Hello?" Your voice was weak.

"Honey... are you ok? You didn't call me back after your urgent matter." Your mothers voice felt stable and consistent, exactly what you needed at the moment.

"Mom... I'm alright, just... Michael reached out to me." Your heart was heavy in your chest.

"Oh my... I knew he would. So? Tell me! Did you two rekindle?" Her excitement was usually infectious but this time it only dampened you mood more.

"Yeah... something like that." She immediately recognised the tone of your voice.

"You sound upset..." not wanting her to worry more than she already was with you so far away you redirected.

"It's nothing... just a long day." She seemed to accept the answer.

"Are you coming over this summer?" An escape.

"Yeah, I'll book a flight... next week, ok?" She sounded happier

"See you then baby."

You smiled and bid your goodbye to your mother, hanging up the phone. Maybe you should go back to Gary. You'd be away for a good reason and you won't have to face your lover or Michael.

Coward.

After booking your flight for next week, you began to pack your stuff to distract yourself but you really couldn't because Michael's album was all that ever played on your radio.

The days went by quietly without Michael reaching out to you. You wanted to tell him that you were visiting home for the summer, but his last reaction to you lingered heavily on your mind. You swallowed your nerves and called him. He was still your applehead.

Leave a message after the tone.

Oh, how you hated how famous he was.

"Hey Applehead... it's me... I don't know when you'll get this message, but if you do, call me. I'm going to be in Gary for the summer. So call my parents' landline instead of my dorm. My flight is next week. Bye."

You hung up, your heart beating too loudly in your ears; you felt choked up on tears you didn't realise were filling your eyes. When did Michael make you so emotional?

Michael ended up calling you that very night; you picked up the call half asleep, your voice groggy and tired.

"Hello," your voice was raspy and your eyes were heavy.

"Can I drive you to the airport?" Michael said quickly as if he was going to lose you. "What? Mikey?" You questioned, thinking you were dreaming of him in your hazy state.

"Please let me drive you to the airport." His heart pounded desperately.

"OK..!ok... pick me up at 4 in the morning; my flight is at 6." You rubbed your eyes.

"Yes ma'am," he teased and you scoffed.

"How gentlemanly of you, Applehead." You sat up more comfortably.

"Thank you, I do think I am a gentleman." His voice was cocky before he cleared his throat, suddenly growing shy. "So how's your day?"

"Michael, it's 6 in the morning; the day hasn't started." He got quiet for a second. "So how was your sleep?"

You ended up talking through the night; you forgot how easy it was being with him. Almost too easy. Talking to him through the phone felt intimate in a different way. That's when it fully dawned on you. You are in love with Michael.

You were beginning to regret agreeing to let him pick you up. At exactly 4 in the morning he was there, always so punctual with you. You were about to put your bag in the trunk but he quickly took it out of your hands and lifted it himself. "I got it." Your heart fluttered. You moved to get the car door only for him to rush over again and open it for you. "After you, my lady," you laughed as you got in and he followed after you, closing the door firmly.

You felt tense in the car. Conflicting thoughts filled your head. You hated cheaters and you weren't going to cheat just to be with applehead... to be with Michael. You wanted a genuine start out of love, not because you felt desperate. It was selfish and tacky. But also incredibly unfair to your lover because now you were emotionally cheating. Michael noticed your tense features and quietly spoke, "Are you a nervous flyer?"

You nodded quickly to not reveal the real reason. "Yeah... motion sickness and all."

Michael wanted to hold your hand, but you were a taken woman, and he wasn't that kind of man. He respected your choices, your relationship, even if it upset him.

His eyes lingered on your lips for a moment too long while you fidgeted with your fingers.

The boarding announcement called your flight, and you both stood up. Michael refused to let you carry your suitcase, rolling it behind him as he guided you to the gate.

You stood there for a moment before embracing each other tightly.

"Call me when you land," he told you shyly.

You nodded against his chest. He was incredibly warm. You could hear his steady heartbeat beneath your ear. You wished you could stay in his embrace a little longer, but you forced yourself to pull away.

"I'll see you soon."

You waved, and he waved back, watching as your silhouette disappeared beyond the gate.

When you came to your childhood home, your parents hugged you tightly. Your siblings gave you awkward side hugs, but you were welcomed all the same.

Your parents told you to take a nap, knowing the jet lag was going to hit you hard. You nodded, appreciating the care.

You went to your childhood room and sighed.

There was a different kind of warmth to it. An innocence that hadn't yet met the harshness of reality. You placed your suitcase in the corner and sat on your bed. Under the dresser, you noticed something. It caught your attention because you didn't remember leaving anything there.

You bent down and pulled out a stack of crumpled papers. Your heart warmed at the sight.

They were all the maps to Neverland that you and Michael used to draw together. The stolen stickers from your siblings. The little plans for the future the two of you came up with as if you had any clue how life would turn out.

You had clearly never planned on losing him.

Michael always hid his drawings from you as a kid, and you respected his privacy, never looking. Seeing them now made you wish you had. One drawing showed the two of you holding hands, with a huge rainbow behind the two of you. Another showed the two of you standing in what looked like a church, getting married.

He drew you in a big, puffy white dress, while he drew himself in a bright red suit. It made you laugh at his ridiculous fashion choices. It dawned on you slowly.

You both loved each other.

And you were both still in love. You got up and picked up the phone, calling him. He answered almost immediately, as if he'd been waiting.

Because he had.

"Hey... I just got home." He let out a sigh of relief.

"That's good... I'm glad you're safe."

You hummed, fidgeting with the phone cord again.

It was hard being casual. It was hard trying to give him space.

Because now it felt anything but casual.

You ended up calling him every day during the summer. You felt like a high school girl talking to her crush on the phone. It felt exactly like a teenage romcom, but the guilt lingered in the back of your mind. Your partner didn't call as often as Michael, though you did try to call them. Michael would just call you more. When you were going to fly back because college was starting soon, you called Michael first. He told you he was going to be waiting for you. You agreed, then called your significant other, and they said they were going to greet you at the airport too. You severely miscalculated. Both were now going to be waiting for you at the airport.

Oh well. Problem for future you.

꒰ྀི১ꨄ︎໒꒱ིྀ꒰ྀི১ꨄ︎໒꒱ིྀ꒰ྀི১ꨄ︎໒꒱ིྀ꒰ྀི১ꨄ︎໒꒱ིྀ꒰ྀི১ꨄ︎໒꒱ིྀ꒰ྀི১ꨄ︎

Part 3 will be the last! I did accidentally reach the character limit writing part 3 so I gotta lock in more.

Love and light, xoxo 🪷

feeling deeply emotional over his sweet little face.

˙⋆✮ STARBOY

pairings: bad!michael x fem!reader

synopsis: michael’s dirty dancing seemingly caught up to you in a matter of minutes.

warnings: smut 18+, sexual themes, cowgirl, switch!michael, sub!reader, creampie, hair pulling, pet names, public sex (ish) overstimulation, oral (f receiving) minors dni.

requested: yes or no

This was one of Michael’s best performance you seen, hands down.

Sometimes you came with him when he went on tour, and you loved every bit of it. Or even when you’re back at home, you’d watch all his shows live. But this time, he let you tag along for his Wembley tour circuit in 1988. It was a pretty lengthy tour; anyone else would probably be tired by now or, truly, not have the capacity to sit through it, but you?

You had no limits with Michael. You were just a girl madly in love with your partner. You’d do anything for him, especially when supporting him. So, he was on either his second-to-last song, about almost time to an end, which you weren’t complaining about, but it definitely was refreshing to watch him do what he does best.

You felt, and Michael most certainly felt, that his performance was definitely him giving his all and more, because you were there.

Michael is a perfectionist, he was gonna do amazing regardless, but the way he moved his fingers, his body, and the faces he made. You knew they were all for you, only for you. Doing so, he eventually got what he wanted because without your knowledge, he performed ‘The Way You Make Me Feel.’ One of your favorite songs because of obvious reasons; It’s about you.

Once you heard the song blare through the loudspeaker, your ears perked up as you looked towards the entrance of the stage. Whatever you had been doing was interrupted because now you were just inches away from the stage, watching from behind the scenes as Michael did his opening piece.

“You knock me off of my feet now baby!”

“Wooooo!”

The crowd erupted into cheers, and the stage lights illuminated Michael, bringing him out of the dark. The beat thumped as Michael did his signature moves, popping his chest and doing the small spins in place. His background dancers stayed in the back while the song began, officially starting Michael’s performance.

Your heart thumped out of your chest as you watched him prance around the stage. His calculated movements, incredible voice that projected perfectly, and his fingers that could not stop moving in seductive ways, all had you backstage warming up. He eventually caught your figure and gave you a few winks, keeping it professional.

You’d shy away by angling your head downward or biting your lip, or even nibbling on the tip of your fingernail. Michael saw all of it, and it fueled his little teases even more. Michael smirked as he walked closer toward your end and waved his guys over. They came, as Michael finished the lyrics; now with a perfect view of you and his audience.

“I like this feeling you’re givin’ me.”

He was close. Your pupils grew big as you watched him precisely, knowing these lyrics were directed to you, and he sang them to you at this moment, making butterflies tear up your stomach. You smiled like an idiot and folded your arms against your chest; you were so shy in this moment that all you could do was cheese and twist your hair occasionally.

“Just hold me baby, and i’m in ecstasy.”

He pointed his hand out, then reached back, placing it on his crotch and slightly thrusting in the air. Your eyes went big, only just the slightest while you watched and anticipated his next move. Though, you should probably sit down because standing and shifting your feet isn’t going to give you the satisfaction you need down there.

He continued the choreo, with his hips continuously popping and one hand supporting the mic, the other all over his body. He’s still positioned to where he has a good view of you, while the guys in the back moved accordingly. He held a smirk while making small gestures towards you.

He then turned fully towards the crowd, where you only had a sideways view of him. His hand traced an outline of a curved body— “I swear I’m keeping you satisfied.” He swayed his arm down and thrusted repeatedly in the air, as if he was giving it to you. The slight, uncomfortable warmth that you felt below meant your body had betrayed you to the fullest. Michael got you, without even touching you.

“Oh my god..” You whispered before letting your head fall into your hands. All of your buttons had been turned on, creating a small thump in your clit, that left you squeezing your legs together while standing. Now you were just about ready for this concert to be over.

—

Michael could tell something was up.

He finished his last song, giving a small outro before leaving the stage. There you were waiting for him by his dressing room door that read ‘Michael Jackson’, “You did so good, Mikey!” He swiftly lifted you off your feet, engulfing you with a hug and swindling you with a kiss. His body was hot and damp, his hair laid messily on his forehead, and his collar stretched ever so slightly, displaying his toned chest.

All of these being a contribution to the arousal you began feeling minutes ago, which is why you were so eager to get out of there. “You ready to go?” Michael’s eyebrows turned downward with a gentle smile on his face.

“Yeah, baby, we’re leaving soon.”

Usually, you wouldn’t inquire about leaving so early; you’d just wait for Michael to tell you. So you took a seat in his dressing room chair, coming down with a slight slouch as Michael wiped the sweat from his forehead, not missing the slight demeanor change within you. He looked over his shoulder at you; you caught his eye and straightened up a bit, flashing him a forged smile.

He squinted his eyes in the slightest.

You couldn’t fake it with Michael, a pout unintentionally formed on your lips as you waited for his attempt at interrogation. “What’s wrong?” There it was. He discarded the towel and put his attention on you fully. It necessarily wasn’t anything wrong, just something that needed to be fixed.

You shook your head. “Nothing, Mike, I’m okay.” Just off of him standing above you, as you sat in the chair looking up at him with a masked feeling of lust, turned you on even more. He couldn’t necessarily point out what was wrong or if you were telling the truth.

He raised an eyebrow at you. “You sure? No one made you uncomfortable or anything?” You didn’t respond verbally, just a small ‘unt unt’. He finished his sentence— “because you look kind of—” There it was. He quickly put two and two together on his own. He got his answer already; he couldn’t help but notice the way your plush thighs would press together and shift against one another.

“Ohhh, I see. She needs me?” Your lack of response gave Michael his answer, again. He chuckled and shot you a faux frown. “I can’t help you right now, baby.” Another squeeze came from you as disappointment seeped through your heart. Knowing Michael, he was going to tease you alllll the way until it was time for him to get his hands on you.

“Then don’t tease me Michael.” Your doe eyes being captured with his big ones as well made him lick his lips, pausing for a second to reconsider it. How can he say no to a pretty face like that? You weren’t saying how badly you needed it, but Michael could tell from your body language alone, and the fact of you using his full name.

“Please…” That was enough for him to turn his head and open the door to his dressing room, peaking his head before spotting bill. “Bill, how long?” Michael asked with his body halfway peaking out of the door frame. Bill stopped in his tracks and held his wrist that contained his watch, close to his face.

“I say about 30 minutes.”

More than enough time messing around with Michael;) He nodded his head and slid back into the room. You watched his every move, watching as he approached you by holding his hand out for you to take. He guided you both to the large black couch. He sat first, while your hands were still together. You followed his movement and positioned yourself to straddle his lap. Your hands fell on his chest, and his eased on your waist, after he gave your ass a nice grip.

“What’s got you so worked up, honey?” He started a conversation while leaning in toward your neck area, showering it with small kisses. Out of instinct, you started grinding yourself against Michael. He felt it, and his hands held your waist, pressed you down, signaling you to stop.

You whined and answered his question. “You, Mikey.” He still gave sweet kisses to your neck, but now he began kitty licking those spots and sucking on your neck. You breathed out and dragged your hands down his warm chest.

“Aint’ even touched you though” He mumbled.

“O-on stage.” You responded quickly, trying to move your hips, but Michael had you restrained. You moaned in his embrace as he applied more pressure on your neck by sucking harder. He might not have made you wait, but he still was going to tease you and work you up even more no matter what. C’mon now. He detached from your neck and placed both hands on the sides of your face, pulling you in for a hot and steamy kiss. You quietly yelped at the sudden movement, but once your lips connected, it somewhat fueled your neediness. Michael, of course, dominated the kiss, his lips capturing yours whole, his tongue swiping against your bottom lip, immediately gaining access. The two of your tongues connected as you lazily sucked on his tongue. He gently pulled back before coming back with a wet, full-lip kiss, then nibbling on your bottom lip, drawing a pinch of blood.

It was clear as day the Michael wanted this as bad as you.

You whimpered while breaking the kiss and fidgeted with your skirt, that had already been risen by now, desperately trying to get it off. You succeeded in doing so, and began fidgeting with Michael’s pants. You were crazy as hell if you thought Michael was going to proceed to fuck you without getting a taste of his favorite fruit. Pffttt.

“Need to taste you first baby.”

One of his arms snaked around your back side, lifting you in the air, while standing himself. He kept a tight grip on you while shimming himself out of his pants, still keeping his boxers on. He placed you on one of the sturdy tables in the dressing room. You immediately fell into position, holding yourself on your elbows with spread legs.

You let out a breathy sigh as Michael placed himself between your legs, in awe at the large, dark spot that decorated your panties. Not that Michael needed anything to feed his ego, because he didn’t have an enormous one in the first place, but seeing the way you were nearly dripping through your panties from watching him perform inappropriately would definitely be a contribution.

He removed your panties, not missing the sticky trail that came from your soaking wet bottoms and your clit. He discarded them somewhere on the floor and kissed your inner thighs. His hands hooked on the back of your thighs, inching them forward. “Just a taste mikey.” You said in a low voice, almost like a whisper, because once again you knew your boyfriend and his tendencies to get carried away. He pursed his lips together and hummed.

“Just a taste baby, then you can take what you want. Yeah?” He nodded his head in attempts to assure you.

You nodded, giving him an okay. His eyes left yours as he connected his lips to your sweet bundle of nerves. He started from your entrance and licked all the way up to your clit. This made you shiver and grip the ends of the table you were laid on. He then began sucking on your clit, lapping up your juices making sure none of your sweet nectar went untasted.

“Ohh my…” You moaned softly with an unconscious attempt to clamp your thighs together, but Michael’s hands kept you restrained. Your body became hot the more Michael’s lips attacked your cunt, and the more he flicked with your clit repeatedly with the tip of his tongue. “So sweet, taste so good pretty.” You felt the vibration of his voice on you making you jolt, and hold onto his semi long curls for support.

“Yes, mikey… right there.” You whimpered with a wobbly voice. Michael groaned and grunted while creating wet noise with his lips and your juices, leaving his chin a dripping mess. His dick stiffened in his boxer, causing him to move his hips into the air, slightly and very few times. His lips pulled at your bundle of nerves surrounding your clit before coming off with a loud pop noise, before coming back in, stuffing his face deeper into your pussy. His movement became more effective as his teeth grazed against your clit each time he dove back in, slurping in the process.

You dragged out a whine.

Your face turned, and your abdomen tightened. “M-Michael… y’said just a taste.” Your words fell deaf to his ears. Michael’s eyes weren’t even open; he was too busy in a daze from the sweetest smell and touch known to man.

You let out a sob and a frustrated moan while yanking his hair. That seemed to grab Michael’s attention because his eyes shot open and at you. With the strength that you had, you eased yourself away from Michael. His lips still working their way on you, as he moved his hands from the back of your thighs, then his lips away from your slobbery cunt.

You gasped from the sudden pull and tried to control your breath. “S’enough, just a taste. ‘member?” He was still between your legs, his eyes were dark and full of lust in that moment. He didn’t even reply to you; instead, he lifted both of your legs, placing them on his shoulders before locking his arms around your thighs and heading back to work.

“I’m sorry baby. I need more.”

You came to defeat as your head fell back and your thighs trembled in Michael’s hold. His tongue put in the same work as before, flicking your clit as you felt an orgasm creep up. Your stomach churned, and you caught chills all over your body. “mikeyy..” You whined.

His adjusted the position by pulling you closer, and adding more aggression.

“Ohh m-mikeyy..” A high-pitched moan erupted from your throat, as the once-built-up tension snapped and washed over you like a tidal wave. You grinded into Michael’s face, feeling his nose bump against your clit. He hummed, slurping up every droplet of cum that exited you, as if it were forbidden not to do so. You came down with a breathy moan, and your legs fell weakly from Michael letting you go.

He wiped his chin with the back of his hand.

You tried steadying your breath as Michael removed his shirt. He discarded it and placed his hands on each side of you, going in for a kiss. You caught it as your lips sloppily danced with one another, and you tasted yourself faintly on his lips. Michael broke this kiss. “I’m sorry I got carried away, angel. I couldn’t help myself. I love tasting you, gorgeous girl.” Michael said.

You nodded your head lazily and wrapped your arms around his neck, he got the message and lifted you swiftly from the table. He sat back down on the black couch again, keeping you leveled as he freed himself. His incredibly long and thick dick slapped against his stomach with a small tap. Pre cum oozed from his agitated tip as it was just inches away from your area.

“Go ahead sweet girl, take what you need.”

The intense eye contact Michael held with you while keeping his hands by his side made you clench around nothing. You brought a shaky hand to your lips as you dropped a wad of spit, then stroked Michael gently, causing him to grunt and attach his large hands to the cushion. You lubed his dick up and lifted your hips, aligning him up with your entrance.

Since you didn’t have the best stability, your hands went to his shoulders, while your head looked downward. “Michael.. Hold me.” You weren’t going to be able to fit his fat tip inside of you without missing your hole the first time.

His hands instantly went to your hips.

“I got you, baby, come on.” He said lazily. Your hands gripped his shoulders as his tip began slowly disappearing inside you. Your eyes shut quickly with a tight squeeze. Every time you and Michael had sex, his dick size never fell to amaze because it always took a second for you to adjust. You let out a breathy moan as he finally bottomed out. Michael licked his lips and swallowed harshly, he wasn’t in charge anymore it was all up to you.

Your hips stuttered as you lifted yourself up, then came back down. You’d repeat the same steps, but each time you’d add a little bit more force. Until you were completely bouncing on Michael’s dick, with such perfect ease.

“Jesus christ.” Michael groaned out load.

Continuous amounts of moans left your mouth as the feeling of his mushroomy tip abusing your gummy walls consumed you. You bit your lip and threw your head back as Michael stared at you the whole time, being in a trance-like state over how good you were making him feel. He shoved your top up and latched his mouth onto your left tit. His tongue swirled around your nub, sucking and pulling at the sensitive spot while he whimpered and groaned into your chest. “Angel… you’re so warm. All for me.” He let out a pathetic whine as your face twisted up with pleasure, small tears threatening to spill out of your eyes.

You couldn’t even form a complete sentence. “Mich—” You were so close but yet so far. Eventually, the strength you had minutes ago began dying down. You still had movement, but it was slowed, and you were more so grinding rather than bouncing. Michael pulled from your tits, leaving them marked up, and quickly put his hands on your hips, manually bouncing you and thrusting into you.

He sensed your tiredness but that wasn’t stopping the show. He loved this position and didn’t plan on switching it.

“Don’t stop, baby. Please, don’t stop.” He moaned, catching his bottom lips between his teeth. You let out a muffled, what could almost be a scream into Michael’s shoulder. Because now you were laid against his shoulder, panting loudly while he peeked around you to see the way your ass came down on him. The sound of wet, squelching sounds coming from your pussy, and the clap sound created by yours hitting Michael’s thighs, all filled the room along with the smell of perfume mixed with cologne and sex.

He felt the way you clench around him multiple times and could tell you were near your end. He gripped the back of your hair, nothing too tight, and faced you toward him, pulling you in for a kiss, something to add fuel. The kiss was very sloppy and all over the place; it didn’t shush either of you; it only made more nasty and lewd sounds come from both of you.

Michael was reaching greatness as well, but he couldn’t let himself go without you going first. His hand with a grip on your hair pulled your head back, and his lips attacked your neck. You let out high-pitched cries as you felt the familiar tightness in your stomach.

“Y’Gonna cum for Mikey? Show him how much you needed this? Y-Yeah?” Michael grunted into your neck, fucking into you at a devious pace. God, he was so dirty. All you could do was nod your head, barely even that, while biting your lip as your orgasm reached its peak.

“Yes Mikey.. Oh my god..” You felt the tightness snap again, and an immediate wave of pleasure rose over you, beneath you, inside of you everywhere. You came with an ear-piercing moan. Your fingernails dug into his thighs as he still held you in the position of your head being back, chest perked up, and your back arched. Your cum created a thick white ring around his dick, and from the sight of that alone, that was enough to make you cum. He thrusted into you hard, a couple more times, the last few becoming sloppy before you finally spilled his load inside of you.

He moaned and groaned, made a mixture of noise while still fucking you through the rest of your orgasm and now him. “Ohh my… Baby.” He grunted while coming down from a big explosion. The warm feeling of cum crowded your belly, making you hyper aware. You gently fell into his hold with a breathy sigh as you stayed in place. Not bothering to remove yourself.

Your breathing was very uneasy, so was his. He rubbed your back gently and kissed the top of your head. He lifted you up so he could pull out, and the loss of contact made both of you release sounds of pleasure. He was so obsessed with your defeated state that he could almost get another hard-on. You laid your head back on his chest while still straddling him with a naked lower half.

Michael stretched his neck and lifted your face giving you a quick kiss.

“It’s probably time to go babygirl.”

You pouted and groaned. “I know but, I won’t be able to walk.”

Michael giggled and wiggled his eyebrows at the fact of knowing this his was doing. “Well, Whatcha gonna do girl?”

“I’m not gonna do anything, you’re carrying me.” And that’s exactly what he did. Didn’t even try and stand on business..

—

;)

dedicated to my lovey @sturnschris

it IS gonna be a delay on the other fic, so sorry. UGHH

Content: Post off the Wall/Pre thriller Era- Vet Reader x Michael ,fluff, A little angsty , Smut( a little kinky if you squint) , quite filthy, oral sex , DRY HUMPING, Soft Dom Michael!! ( long time no see guys :) ) got carried away ngl ;)

Summary: You accompany Michael to his New York apartment where you will stay with him for the next 2 weeks while he performs there. Just as he promised he takes you to Studio 54, where you get to see a different side of Michael. You knew Michael was a hot commodity but you didn’t know how much it would effect you…

———————————————————————-

The drive through New York felt almost unreal.

The city buzzed outside the windows with a life entirely different from California. Endless rows of glowing buildings stretched toward the evening sky, yellow taxi cabs darted between traffic, and people hurried along sidewalks as if the city itself never allowed anyone to slow down.You found yourself staring out the window almost the entire ride, fascinated by everything.Every few minutes Michael would glance over at you instead of the skyline.

Not because New York wasn’t beautiful.

Because watching you experience it somehow made it even better.

When the car finally rolled to a stop outside his apartment building, Bill Bray stepped out first before opening the back door.“We’re here,” he smiled.

Michael climbed out before offering you his hand.

You gladly took it.

Inside, the apartment was much smaller than Hayvenhurst, but somehow it felt even more personal.It didn’t have towering ceilings or endless hallways.

Instead, it felt lived in.

Comfortable.

The living room held a well-loved couch with a knitted blanket folded neatly over one arm. Records were stacked carefully beside the stereo, several notebooks rested on the coffee table with pencils tucked between their pages, and a bookshelf overflowed with music books, poetry collections, children’s stories, and magazines.Photographs sat on shelves in simple frames family, friends, moments from tours.

Near one window stood a healthy collection of houseplants Michael proudly admitted he was trying very hard not to forget to water.The apartment carried a faint scent of clean laundry, cedar, paper, and the familiar cologne Michael always wore.

It was Warm.Quiet.Safe.

You slowly turned in a circle, taking everything in.Even after only a few minutes, a strange thought settled into your heart.You already knew you weren’t going to want to leave in two weeks.

“You like it?”

His voice came softly from behind you.

Before you could answer, you felt him lean down and place a gentle kiss against your cheek.

You smiled immediately.

Turning around, you wrapped your arms around him without hesitation.

“It’s so you,” you laughed quietly.

Michael blinked.

“What do you mean?”

“It even smells like you.”

You buried your face dramatically against his shoulder before taking an exaggerated sniff.

“Mhm.”

Another dramatic sniff.

“Yep.”

You nodded with complete seriousness.

“Definitely smells like Michael.”

He stared at you for exactly one second before laughing so hard he bent forward.

“No it doesn’t.”

“It does.”

“It absolutely does not.”

“It absolutely does.”

You took another ridiculous exaggerated sniff around the room.

“I think if somebody blindfolded me and dropped me in here, I’d know whose apartment it was.”

Michael shook his head, smiling so widely his dimples appeared.

“You are unbelievable.”

“I know.”

He slipped his arms around your waist then, pulling you closer.

“I was nervous you’d think it was… I don’t know… too basic .”

You looked around again before meeting his eyes.

“It feels like home.”

The words left your mouth without thinking.Michael became very still.

Because no one had ever described this apartment that way before.

To him, this place had always represented long rehearsals, exhausting performances, lonely evenings, and quiet nights spent missing California.It had always been somewhere temporary.Somewhere he slept.Never somewhere that truly felt warm.

Until now.

He rested his forehead lightly against yours.

“I’m really happy you’re here.”

“So am I.”

For the first time since arriving in New York, the apartment didn’t feel empty anymore.

It felt shared.

That realization alone filled Michael with a quiet happiness he couldn’t quite explain.There was no need to whisper here.No brothers barging into his room without knocking.No teasing voices interrupting your conversations to call the two of you “the weird match made in heaven.” No worrying about waking someone while laughing over board games late into the night.No more of his thoughts eating him alive as you two would do freakish things to eachother with his mom just down the hallway

Just…

Peace.

The kind he’d been searching for without realizing it.After unpacking your suitcase, you wandered toward the bathroom.

“I’m gonna take a quick shower before bed.”

“I’ll probably work on a few lyrics,” Michael replied, already opening one of his notebooks.

The apartment soon settled into a comfortable silence.The sound of running water echoed faintly down the hallway while Michael sat at the dining table, absentmindedly tapping his pencil against the page.Every now and then he’d hum a melody under his breath before quickly scribbling another line into his notebook.Music always seemed to arrive without warning.

A little while later your voice called from the bathroom.

“Michael?”

He looked up immediately.

“Sweetie… could you grab my towel, please? I forgot to bring it in.”

Michael swallowed hard , he didn’t want to seem like pervert , No, he’s far from it,

But since that intimate night 3 weeks ago he hasn’t seen your naked body since , he had been extremely busy with practices and studio time , but the vision of it didn’t leave his mind.

He knew that if he saw you he didn’t know if he could contain himself .

He already crossed the barrier of oral sex, and even that was a huge step for him, he wanted to wait for you two to have sex , he wanted the moment to be special , memorable, and also he just had simply no idea what to do when it came to penetration.

“Michael? Baby I’m freezing here hurry please “ you say getting slightly impatient, you just figured he was caught up in a melody in his head and forgot you said something.

“S- sorry baby I’m coming” he opens his cabinet and grabs a towel , strategically he slightly opens the door so your gorgeous naked body was not in his view, he didn’t know if he could handle seeing you like that, not right now, he had a performance he needed to focus on tomorrow, and your body was enough to blur his thoughts.

“Thank you,” you laughed warmly as you took it.

“You make this look like a secret mission.”

His ears turned a faint red.

“I was just… trying to be respectful.”

Your smile softened.

“I know.”

It was one of the countless little things you loved about him.His kindness always seemed to appear in the smallest moments.

By the time you stepped back into the bedroom wearing comfortable pajama pants and an oversized sleep shirt, Michael had already returned to the dining table.

His pencil moved steadily across another page.

You watched him quietly for a moment.

Completely absorbed.Humming softly.Crossing out a lyric.Writing another.

Tomorrow was important.He had rehearsals, interviews, and performances waiting for him.

Not wanting to interrupt his creative rhythm, you slipped beneath the blankets and let the quiet sounds of the city slowly lull you toward sleep.Much later, after his notebook finally closed for the night, Michael quietly made his way into the bedroom.The apartment was dark except for the faint glow of city lights filtering through the curtains.

Carefully, so he wouldn’t wake you, he eased into bed behind you.He wrapped one arm gently around your waist before pressing a feather-light kiss against your forehead.

Then your temple.Then your cheek.

“I love you so much,” he whispered into the quiet room. “I’m so glad you’re here.”He smiled to himself, convinced you were already asleep.

Then you answered softly.

“I love you too, Michael.”

His eyes widened.

“I thought you were sleeping.”

“I almost was.”

You smiled without opening your eyes.

“I’m glad I’m here too.”

Michael laughed quietly under his breath before pulling you a little closer.

For years, this apartment had always been the loneliest place he knew.No laughter.No family.No familiar noise drifting down the hallway.

Just silence after long days of work.

Tonight, though, the silence felt completely different.Not empty.Peaceful.

Because for the first time, he wasn’t coming home alone.

He was coming home to you

————————————————————————

The roar of the crowd was unlike anything you’d ever experienced.Even before the lights dimmed, the theater buzzed with anticipation. Every seat was filled, conversations blending into one excited hum as people clutched programs and craned their necks toward the stage.

You sat comfortably in the very front row, exactly where Michael had insisted you be.

“I want to know where you are,” he’d told you the night before. “Then every time I look out there… I’ll know you’re watching.”

Beside you sat Bill Bray, who had quickly become someone you genuinely enjoyed getting to know over time.

He glanced toward the stage before looking over at you with an amused smile.

“Nervous?”

You laughed.

“More than he probably is.”

Bill chuckled knowingly.

“You’ll calm down once he gets out there.”

The house lights suddenly went dark.

Immediately the entire theater erupted.Screams echoed from every direction as the first notes of music blasted through the speakers.

Then

Michael appeared.

Your breath caught instantly.

You’d seen him dance countless times while practicing in his room.You’d watched him absentmindedly hum melodies while cooking breakfast.You’d laughed watching him perform goofy little dances around hayvenhurst while trying to make you smile.

But this…

This was different.

The second his feet touched that stage, something inside him transformed.

Every movement became effortless.Every step landed perfectly with the music.

The spotlight followed him as if it belonged to him alone, catching every spin, every sharp turn, every graceful glide across the stage.

His confidence seemed almost magnetic.He wasn’t simply performing.He was telling a story with every movement.The audience couldn’t take their eyes off him.

Neither could you.

His curls bounced with each dance move, dampening gradually beneath the heat of the stage lights, while the smile stretching across his face looked brighter than anything you’d seen all week.There was a freedom in him up there.The shy young man who blushed when you complimented him seemed to disappear beneath the music.In his place stood someone fearless.Electric.Completely alive.

You found yourself smiling so hard your cheeks hurt.Every now and then Michael’s eyes swept across the audience.

And every single time they found yours.His smile grew just a little bigger.Like seeing you there grounded him.

People leaped from their seats, dancing in the aisles, clapping in rhythm and singing every lyric back to him.The energy inside the theater became infectious.Even you found yourself standing, clapping, laughing, completely caught up in the excitement surrounding you.

By the final song, the entire audience was on its feet.

The applause seemed endless.

When Michael took his final bow, his chest rose and fell heavily from exertion, his smile genuine as he thanked the crowd one last time before disappearing backstage.You practically floated there for a moment.

Bill stood.

“C’mon.”

He smiled knowingly.

“I think somebody back there is more excited to see you than anybody else.”

Backstage buzzed with organized chaos.Crew members hurried past carrying equipment while producers congratulated performers and assistants rushed in every direction.

Then you spotted him.

Michael stood near the dressing rooms, completely drenched in sweat from the performance.

His curls clung to his forehead, his shirt stuck lightly against his back, and he was still catching his breath as someone handed him a bottle of water. God. Did he looked so sexy.

The second he looked up and saw you,

Everything else disappeared.His entire face lit up.

Without thinking, you hurried straight toward him.He barely had enough time to set the water bottle down before you wrapped your arms tightly around him.You didn’t care that he was soaked.Didn’t care that he was warm from dancing beneath blazing stage lights.

You were simply proud of him.

“You were incredible,” you whispered, pulling back just enough to look at him.

Your hands gently cupped his face before you placed one kiss on his forehead.

“You are truly talented, Michael.”

Another kiss on his lips.

“You were amazing up there.”

Michael smiled so softly it almost made your heart ache.Out of everything that had happened tonight

The cheering.The standing ovation.The applause.

This,

This was the moment he’d been waiting for.

Coming back to you.

He leaned forward, returning your affection with gentle kisses against your forehead and cheeks.“Thank you, my love,” he murmured.

His voice had gone quiet again.

That familiar softness returning now that the stage lights were behind him.“It means more hearing it from you than anybody else.”

Your heart practically melted.One of his hands slipped naturally into yours while the other brushed a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

For a few peaceful moments, the noisy backstage hallway faded into the background.It felt like you were the only two people there.Then Michael’s eyes suddenly brightened with excitement.

“Oh!”

He laughed.

“Are you ready for tonight?”

You raised an eyebrow playfully.

“For what?”

His grin widened.

“Studio 54.”

The words alone made your excitement return full force.

Michael chuckled at your expression.

“It’s gonna be jumping tonight.”

His eyes sparkled with boyish excitement.

“I can’t wait to take you.”

You laughed, looping your arm through his.“Baby…” “My outfit’s already laid out on your bed.”

You leaned in, smiling from ear to ear.“I’ve never been more ready in my life.”.

He squeezed your hand once.

“Good.”

“Because tonight”

He shook his head with an excited grin.

“Is gonna be unforgettable

————————————————————————

Your outfit was perfect: a shiny, dark purple jumpsuit that caught every light in the room. It had a low neckline, a silver belt that showed off your waist, and wide pant legs that moved beautifully when you walked.

Michael looked amazing too. He wore a smooth black silk shirt, unbuttoned just enough at the top, and tight purple pants that matched yours perfectly. Over it, he wore a silver blazer that sparked under the lights, and his black shoes were polished and bright. You feel your face heat up, feeling a rush of excitement. He looked so good, and you knew he was going to own the dance floor tonight.

“Gosh girl, give me one more twirl,” Michael said with a big smile. He took your hand, lifted it up, and spun you around.

You laughed as he spun you for the third time in a row, the room blurring into a mix of colors.

The purple fabric fanned beautifully around your legs before settling again. His knees felt weak at how your figure looked in such tight clothing.

He grinned, biting his lip.

“Again.”

“Michael, come on, Bill is outside waiting for us,” you laughed, catching your balance and pulling him down the hallway by his wrist.

He groaned dramatically.

“But I was admiring you.” He playfully whines

“You can admire me in the elevator.”

“I planned on admiring you all night.”

You both got into the car and headed to Studio 54.

When you got there, it felt like magic. It was just like the pictures, but a million times better. The air inside was warm and thick, filled with the smell of perfume and hairspray. Huge, bright lights flashed over a crowd of dancing people. A giant moon sculpture hung from the ceiling, and silver glitter drifted through the air like snow. Mirrors on every wall made the room look never-ending and wild.

Right away, a man walked up to greet Michael.

“How have you been, Michael? Haven’t seen you here in a while. Who is this beautiful girl you brought with you?” the man asked. He looked you up and down, staring for way too long.

“She’s my girlfriend,” Michael said, his voice turning deep and serious. He quickly placed his hand on your waist, pulling you close to his side with a tight grip. Was Michael… jealous?

“Lucky guy,” the man chuckled, holding his hands up.

“I know,” Michael said shortly. He stopped talking to the man and guided you away into the crowd.

You smiled to yourself, your heart beating fast. You had never seen Michael act so protective before, and it was really sexy.

When you finally got onto the dance floor, the heavy beat of the music took over. Dancing with Michael was pure fun. It felt amazing to just let loose and forget about everyone else. You both moved perfectly together, laughing as he spun you out and pulled you back in. Michael was completely focused on you, watching the way you moved with a huge, happy smile on his face. He was in a total trance, his eyes stuck on how you moved your hips, a breathless, genuine smile plastered across his face.

But the fun stopped when a girl walked up to him. She was very pretty, so pretty that it hurt to admit it.

“Hey Michael, I missed seeing you here,” she said loudly over the music, throwing her arms around his neck for a big hug.

You felt your hands turn into fists. Why did she have to be so pretty? And why did she have to hug him like that?

Michael pulled back from the hug with a warm smile and turned to look for you. He reached out, grabbing your hand to pull you closer to his side.

“Hey, it’s been a while,” Michael said to her, before looking down at you. “This is my girlfriend.”

The girl’s smile instantly dropped. She looked you up and down, giving you a total stank face. She looked so annoyed but because Michael was looking at you, he completely missed it. She gave you a half-assed, lazy wave, barely lifting her fingers.

“Nice to meet you,” she said, her voice sounding totally fake.

Before you could even say anything back, she started moving to the beat of the music, looking right at Michael. “Come on, Michael, dance with me!”

And without even missing a beat, he started dancing with her.

And she was a really good dancer, too. It made you so mad. It felt like he forgot you were even there. Sure, Michael had danced with other women before. To him, dancing was just something to be shared with everyone. But his innocent brain forgot that he had a girlfriend now, and dancing with another girl like this was not okay.

Soon, a big crowd of people surrounded Michael and the girl. They were all people he knew, and they were thrilled to see him back in New York. They formed a circle, clapping along to the beat, cutting you out completely.

You started to feel very small. You didn't know anything about this fancy lifestyle. You weren't famous, and you weren't the child of anyone famous. You only knew Michael, and no one else in this whole club. He seemed different here, so confident and out of reach. It was nice to see him happy, but it felt like you didn't exist to him anymore. He gave you a few quick smiles over her shoulder, and you forced a fake smile back, but inside you were deeply jealous and hurt. You started to wonder if you should even be with someone as famous as Michael.

Maybe you just didn’t fit into his world?

You started to worry that one day he would leave you for a girl who was also a star, someone everyone already knew. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you walked away from the crowd. You found an empty chair and sat down, slowly drinking the last bit of your water while the ice melted.

Is this how it’s going to be every time we go out? How can this relationship work?

That was all you could think about while Michael danced under the bright lights, having the time of his life.

When the crowd finally died down, only then did Michael realize you weren’t next to him. It wasn’t on purpose; he had just gotten too excited and completely lost in a fun moment. But now his heart was pumping fast. Where were you? Was all of this too much for you? How could he be so stupid not to check on you while he was dancing?

Then, his eyes fell on you. You looked so beautiful, but sadness hung heavily in your eyes. He could tell he had messed up big time.

You didn’t even notice Michael walking up behind you, so when he tapped your shoulder, you jumped a bit.

”Oh, it’s you,” you said, pushing out a small giggle to try and ease the awkward situation.

“I’m so sorry. I could’ve sworn you were close to me. I should’ve made sure—”

You cut him off. It had been a whole hour since you two parted ways on the dance floor, and you were completely ready to just go back to the apartment.

“It’s okay, Michael, really. I’m just ready to go, if that’s okay,” you said in a monotone voice, trying your hardest to hide how hurt you were.

“No, no, yeah, sure. It’s okay,” he said quickly. His face felt hot and his heart was pounding against his ribs. He had wanted this to be such a good night for you, but instead, he felt like he completely ruined it.

In the car on the way back to the apartment, the silence was heavy. Michael couldn't stop thinking about what he had done on the dance floor. I should’ve made sure I was by her side, he thought to himself, a knot forming in his stomach. I’m such an idiot. I should’ve made sure she was okay. I should’ve been more aware of what I was doing.

Meanwhile, you just stared out the window at the passing city lights. Your eyes were blurry with tears, and you genuinely didn't know what to say.

You two finally made it back, and the quiet followed you all the way down the hall and into his apartment room.

”Baby…” Michael said, his voice slightly cracking as the front door clicked shut.

“Hm,” you replied softly. You walked over to the couch and sat down, slowly removing your uncomfortable heels. You felt bad for being so quiet, but you knew that if you started talking right now, you would definitely cry.

“I’m so sorry. I should’ve made sure you were around me. I should’ve made sure you were okay—”

“I feel like a burden to you,” you said, cutting him off yet again. You finally covered your face with your hands, tears falling past your fingers.

“You shouldn’t have to constantly check on me. I just don’t fit in. That girl you were dancing with seemed more like your speed,” you sobbed, the words tumbling out. “It’s like I instantly went away into the shadows while you were having the time of your life. What if I don’t fit into this world of yours? What if people think I’m not good enough for you? What if I'm not good enough for you?”

You couldn't hide it anymore. You sniffed in between every single sentence, your shoulders shaking.

“Angel… “ he said softly. His heart broke hearing you talk down on yourself like that, and it killed him to know that he was the one who made you feel this way.

“Angel, all of those things are not true,” Michael said, stepping closer. He gently knelt in front of you, removing your wet hands from your face. With two fingers under your chin, he lifted your face up so your eyes met his.

”You are my world, okay? And my job is to make sure you're okay regardless of where we are. Your status doesn’t matter to me. All those people out there, they barely even know me—not like you do. That alone makes you so special, and so, so much better than the rest. I’m so sorry for making you feel like that, angel. I promise to never make you feel like a burden ever again, okay?”

Michael then pulled you tightly into a hug. He held the back of your head gently in his hand, nuzzling his face into your shoulder as if he never wanted to let you go.

His warm words and tight grip instantly soothed the anxious beat of your heart.

You sniffed, burying your face into his neck. “Thank you, baby. I was just really in my head tonight,” you whispered, accidentally wetting Michael’s silk shirt with your tears, finally feeling safe again in his arms

You pulled back a bit from the hug and planted a kiss on Michael’s lips. It was a soft, simple peck, and you couldn't help but smile into the kiss.

Michael finally calmed down, feeling a huge wave of relief wash over him knowing that he had made you feel okay. He pulled back just enough to look at you, a big, toothy grin spreading across his face.

”What?” you asked, giggling a little and wondering why he had such a ridiculous, happy look on his face.

”You’re smiling again. There’s my pretty girl,” he whispered softly. He placed one of his warm hands on your cheek and leaned back in to kiss you, this time making it a little deeper.

You returned the deep kiss and pulled him closer to you. He was still on his knees on the floor in front of you, but now his body was positioned right between your legs.

You slid your tongue into his mouth, which earned a small, low groan from the back of Michael’s throat. The kiss got unexpectedly heated very quickly, and Michael was already a total mess for you.

His hands began to roam, moving from your hips up to your waist. He slowly moved his palms around your figure, gently squeezing every inch of your body as if he needed to remind himself that you were really there. His hands were so large and warm, and in contrast to his cold, chilly apartment, the heat of his touch made you completely melt.

The kiss was getting sloppy and certainly messy. The two of you were moving around so much, completely lost in each other, that your movements accidentally knocked down a small vase that was on a table right behind Michael. It hit the floor with a loud thud, but neither of you seemed to care.

You felt yourself getting more and more worked up, a slick warmth brewing inside you as you shifted against the heavy fabric of your jumpsuit, desperate for a closer touch.

Michael was completely lost in the feeling of your body. He was fully erect, his heat pressing hard against the edge of the couch as he tried to get closer to you. Sensing his desperation, you opened your legs wider, wanting to feel him against you completely, and that’s when—

Rip.

The tight, purple fabric split right down the center seam.

You gasped as the sudden, chilly air of the apartment hit your bare skin. Because the outfit was so skin-tight, you hadn't worn any underwear to avoid lines showing through, leaving you completely exposed to him now.

You froze, instantly expecting Michael to laugh or make a childish joke to break the tension. But when you looked down at him, there was no amusement on his face. The look in his dark eyes was pure hunger.

Seeing you exposed like that, glistening and flushed with arousal right through the center of your ruined pants, drove him completely feral. The sweet, heavy scent of you filled the small space between your bodies, shattering whatever restraint he had left.

“Oh god,” Michael finally breathed out, his voice incredibly deep and raspy. He stared up at you from his knees, his chest heaving as his hands gripped your thighs, pulling you firmly toward the edge of the cushion. “Let me taste you, angel. Let me make you feel good... please.”

You nodded, biting your lip hard to brace yourself as you waited for the heat of his tongue to press against your sensitive clit.

Gently lifting your legs, he guided your lower back to slide down the couch slightly, giving himself the perfect angle. Michael took the very tip of his tongue and began to slowly swirl it in agonizingly deliberate circles around your clit, causing your spine to arch off the cushions. It felt incredibly good, but the slow, teasing pace was pure torture. You needed more.

“Please, Michael,” you managed to whine, your hands gripping the fabric of the sofa.

“I’m taking my time with you tonight,” he murmured in a low, husky tone, his hot breath brushing against your skin. “I need you to feel every single inch of how sorry I am.” To prove his point, he used his fingers to rip the split fabric of your pants up a little higher, gaining completely unhindered access to your needy heat.

His tongue found you again, slowly licking up and down, collecting the sweet slickness of your arousal before he suddenly picked up the pace.

Now, your clit was being flicked by the tip of his tongue at a rapid, relentless speed. Loud, wet noises filled the quiet apartment. The sensation was completely unreal. He was right there on his knees below you, looking up with sweat breaking out on his forehead and absolute determination burning in his large eyes, completely devouring you.

Your hands scrambled for a pillow next to you, squeezing it tight as your teeth dug into your bottom lip. “Michael… oh shit… Michael,” was all you could gasp out as he completely ruined your composure. The friction of his tongue was perfect. He pushed deeper inside you, burying his face fully between your thighs.

The sight of you was breathtaking to him. Your lips were puffy and red from crying, but you looked more beautiful than ever, the light sweat glistening on your chest making your skin shine under the dim room lights. Michael felt a massive wave of pleasure hit him, letting out a heavy moan right against your core as if he were about to cum in his pants right then and there.

He began to push his tongue in and out of you, looking up at you with those big, doe eyes, silently asking for your approval as you creamed all around his tongue in response.

“Baby… Shit… baby, I’m gonna cum, oh god—”

Suddenly, he lifted his head and stopped completely.

You gasped, your aching walls clenching around empty air. You needed to cross the edge so badly. “Michael…?”

“I’m sorry, baby. I just want to try something, okay?” he breathed, his voice thick.

He moved from the floor and sat next to you on the couch, quickly discarding his trousers until he was left in just his boxers. You raised an eyebrow, your heart hammering. Was he finally ready to have sex?

“I’m not ready to have sex yet, but… I would like to try something. Sit on top of me, baby,” he pleaded, shifting his heavy, pounding erection inside his underwear.

You climbed over him, straddling his lap, and instantly everything clicked into place.

“You want to dry hump,” you said with a breathless little chuckle.

“Oh, that’s the word for it? Yeah, I wanted to try that,” he admitted, a sudden flash of boyish shyness crossing his features before the hunger took over again.

He gripped your hips with his large hands and slowly began to guide you, sliding your body back and forth over his length. The direct pressure of his hard-on frictioning right against your clit made you throw your head back in pure ecstasy. You were leaking so heavily that your juices instantly soaked right through the thin cotton of his boxers. Feeling your slick warmth flooding his length through the underwear caused low, desperate groans and whines to break from Michael’s throat.

Your head fell back once more, but Michael reached up, his fingers firmly catching your chin to pull your face forward. “Look at me. I want to see how much of a pretty mess you turn into.”

The scene was incredibly filthy. The sounds echoing in the room were completely uninhibited, a stark contrast to the sweet, gentle intimacy the two of you usually shared. He picked up the pace, aggressively moving your hips while simultaneously thrusting his own hips upward. The clothed tip of his length repeatedly abused your clit, sending your pleasure skyrocketing to a dangerous high.

You were so incredibly wet that his boxers were fully stained with your cream and arousal. “You feel so good, baby,” Michael groaned out, his head rolling back.

His own precum was mixing in with your slickness through the fabric. As your heat rode him and clenched hard over his clothed length, he gripped and squeezed your ass for support, his fingers digging into your skin as he felt his own climax building.

“Michael, I’m gonna cum… oh god,” you whimpered. You could feel the most intense orgasm of your life brewing deep inside your stomach, a tight, coil of pressure ready to snap.

“Cum for me, Angel,” Michael breathlessly ordered, his hips moving faster. “Cum all over me. Let me feel you.”

That was the absolute cherry on top. You broke, cumming violently all over his clothed length, your body shaking as waves of pleasure crashed through you. The tight, pulsing contractions of your heat clamping down on him pushed Michael right over his own edge. “Oh god, yes!” he moaned loudly, desperately riding into your heat one last time as his own warm release flooded his boxers.

After the storm passed, you stayed melted right on top of him, both of you completely out of breath from the heavy movement, chests heaving against one another.

Michael gently wrapped his arms around you, leaning up to press a soft kiss to your damp cheek. “I love you so much, baby. I’m so sorry about tonight.” He stroked your back, his voice returning to its usual gentle cadence. “Let’s go out to dinner tomorrow night. At that one place you’ve always wanted to go to, hm?”

you’re one of the first people invited to neverland ranch after michael buys it because you’re a longtime friend (so around 1988) and once nighttime rolls around you and michael are laying in a big field watching the stars. you both start really talking and now he’s on top of you kissing you like you’ll melt away in the grass and then they start fucking but michael still has his sunglasses on and keeps his face at your neck. you want to see him so badly but he’s hiding away a bit so you tell him to take them off and then you tell him how pretty he is and how proud you are 😗

so so sorry this was so long LOLOLOL

wait this is so cute

i love the stargazing but lowk im viewing this as a fluff fic.. maabye heavy petting

are u willing to compromise w me LOL

michael jackson x blackfem!reader

warning: smut

a/n: I love Michael so much it’s not even funtyyyyy

The California sun was blazing overhead, painting the Hayvenhurst estate in shades of gold and green.

The sound of laughter and splashing water echoed from the backyard, where the Jackson family pool party was in full swing.

You stepped out of your car, your sundress light and breezy, a towel draped over your shoulder.

Your heart was pounding, but you took a deep breath and smoothed down your dress.

You'd been to the Jackson family home before, but never for something like this.

You spotted La Toya almost immediately, her warm smile spreading wide as she waved you over.

She was lounging by the pool, her sunglasses perched on her nose, looking every bit the queen she was.

"Girl, you made it!" she exclaimed, pulling you into a hug.

The pool was full of the Jackson siblings, their laughter and shouts filling the air.

You peeled off your sundress, revealing the bikini underneath, a simple two-piece that you'd been nervous to wear, but La Toya had assured you it was perfect.

As you settled onto a lounge chair next to her, you felt a pair of eyes on you. You glanced up, and your breath caught in your throat.

Michael was standing on the other side of the pool, a can of soda in his hand, his dark curls damp and clinging to his forehead.

He was wearing a pair of swim trunks, his lean chest bare, and he was staring at you like you were the only person in the world.

His brothers saw this too.

"Ooooh, Mike's got his eyes on somebody," Jermaine teased, nudging Michael's shoulder.

"Shut up," Michael muttered, but a faint blush crept up his cheeks.

"Don't be shy, baby brother," Jackie added with a grin. "Go on over there and talk to her."

Michael ignored them, but you saw the way his fingers tightened around his can, the way his eyes never left you.

You offered him a small smile, and he returned it, shy and sweet.

After a few minutes, you excused yourself from La Toya and made your way over to him.

He straightened up as you approached, his smile widening.

"Hey," you said, your voice soft.

"Hey," he replied, his voice that familiar, gentle whisper. "I'm glad you came."

"Me too."

You both fell into step, walking to the edge of the pool where you sat down, your feet dangling into the cool water.

The chaos of the party seemed to fade away as you talked about music, about movies, about nothing and everything.

He laughed at everything you said, that beautiful, infectious laugh that made your heart soar.

"You look really beautiful today," he said quietly, his eyes meeting yours.

You felt your cheeks warm. "Thank you, Michael."

He was about to say something else when a wave of water crashed over both of you, soaking your hair and your face.

You sputtered, turning to see Marlon standing behind you, a mischievous grin on his face, a bucket in his hands.

"Gotcha!" he yelled before running off.

Michael's eyes widened, and then a playful smirk crossed his face. "Oh, it's on."

What followed was an all-out water war. Water guns appeared from seemingly nowhere, buckets were filled, and all the siblings turned on each other.

You found yourself ducking behind a lounge chair, a water pistol in hand, laughing so hard your stomach hurt.

At some point, you lost track of where everyone was. You rounded a corner near the side of the house, your water gun raised, only to find Michael pressed against the wall, his own gun dripping at his side.

He was breathing hard, his curls plastered to his forehead, a grin on his face.

"I think we lost them," he said, his voice low.

You lowered your gun, your heart pounding for an entirely different reason now. "Looks like it."

He stepped closer, his hand reaching out to brush a wet strand of hair from your face. His touch was electric, sending a shiver down your spine.

"Come with me," he whispered, taking your hand.

He led you through a side door into a quiet sitting room, the sounds of the party muffled by the walls.

The room was decorated in soft creams and golds, a large sofa sitting in the center.

The afternoon light filtered through sheer curtains, casting everything in a warm, hazy glow.

He turned to face you, his hands cupping your cheeks, his lips finding yours in a kiss that was soft at first, then deeper, more urgent.

You melted into him, your hands sliding up his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath your palms.

"Michael," you breathed, your voice barely a whisper.

He pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes dark and hooded, a soft smile playing on his lips.

"I've been watching you all day," he admitted, his voice low and intimate.

"Every time you moved, every time you laughed... I couldn't think straight."

Your cheeks flushed, but a thrill shot through you. "You could've come over sooner."

"I had to wait for the right moment." His fingers hooked under the strings of your bikini top, loosening them with deliberate slowness. "And this is it."

The fabric fell away, and his breath caught. His eyes roamed over your bare chest with an intensity that made you feel like the most beautiful woman in the world.

He cupped your breasts, his thumbs brushing over your nipples, sending shivers down your spine.

"Perfect," he murmured, more to himself than to you. "Absolutely perfect."

He lowered his head, taking one nipple into his mouth, his tongue swirling around the sensitive peak.

You gasped, your fingers threading through his damp curls, holding him there.

He lavished attention on both breasts, alternating between gentle sucks and teasing licks, until you were writhing beneath his touch.

"Michael... please..."

He pulled back, a knowing glint in his eye. "Please what, baby?"

You couldn't find the words, but you didn't need to. He understood.

He guided you down onto the sofa, the cushions cool against your heated skin.

He knelt before you, his hands sliding down your stomach, hooking into the sides of your bikini bottoms.

"Lift your hips for me," he instructed softly.

You obeyed, and he slid the fabric down your legs, leaving you completely bare before him.

He sat back on his heels, his gaze traveling over your body with reverent appreciation.

"You’re so beautiful," he whispered. "Every inch of you."

He leaned forward, pressing a kiss to your inner thigh. Then another, higher.

His lips trailed a slow, torturous path toward your core, his breath warm against your sensitive skin.

When he finally reached your center, he pressed a soft, open-mouthed kiss to your folds, and you gasped, your hips bucking instinctively.

He chuckled, a low, velvety sound. "Impatient, are we?"

"Michael touch me, please..."

He didn't make you wait any longer. He parted your folds with his thumbs, revealing your slick, glistening center.

He leaned in, his tongue flat against your clit, licking a slow, deliberate stripe from bottom to top.

The sensation was electric, a jolt of pleasure that made your back arch off the cushions.

He found a rhythm, his tongue circling your clit with practiced precision, alternating between soft flicks and firm pressure.

He teased your entrance, dipping his tongue inside you before returning to your clit, building a steady, relentless pace.

"Oh, God... Michael..."

He hummed against you, the vibration sending shockwaves through your body.

He slipped one finger inside you, then two, curling them just right, hitting that spot that made stars burst behind your eyes.

His mouth never stopped, his tongue working in tandem with his fingers, driving you higher and higher.

"That's it, baby," he murmured against your skin. "Let go for me. I want to feel you cum."

The sound of his voice, the feel of his mouth, the pressure of his fingers, it was too much.

Your orgasm crashed over you like a wave, your body shuddering, a cry of his name escaping your lips.

He worked you through it, gentle and soothing, until your trembling subsided.

But he wasn't done.

He rose, his hands gripping your hips, turning you over.

You found yourself on your hands and knees, the sofa creaking beneath your weight.

You looked back over your shoulder, watching as he positioned himself behind you.

He leaned over, pressing a kiss to the small of your back. "You ready, baby?"

"Yes," you breathed. "Please, Michael."

He guided himself to your entrance, the head of his cock pressing against your slick folds.

He entered you slowly, inch by inch, letting you feel every moment of his intrusion.

You gasped at the stretch, your fingers gripping the sofa armrest.

"You feel so good," he groaned, his voice strained. "So tight... so perfect."

He paused once he was fully sheathed inside you, giving you time to adjust.

His hands gripped your hips, his thumbs pressing into the soft flesh, grounding you both.

Then he began to move.

His thrusts were slow and deliberate, each one deep and measured, hitting a spot that made your knees weak.

He set a rhythm, a steady, hypnotic pace that had you moaning with every stroke.

His hand slid around your waist, finding your clit, rubbing in tight circles that sent sparks of pleasure through your already sensitive body.

"Look at you," he breathed, his voice thick with desire. "Taking me so well. You're so beautiful like this."

You could only whimper in response, lost in the sensation of him filling you, stretching you, claiming you.

His pace quickened, his thrusts becoming more urgent, more desperate.

"I'm close," he warned, his breath coming in ragged gasps. "Cum with me, baby. Cum for me again."

His fingers worked your clit faster, his thrusts deeper, and the combined stimulation pushed you over the edge.

Your orgasm ripped through you, your body clenching around him, a cry of pure ecstasy escaping your lips.

The feeling of you tightening around him was his undoing. He groaned, a deep, guttural sound, as he spilled inside you, his hips stuttering, his grip on your hips tightening.

He rode out both your climaxes, his movements slowing until he was still, buried deep inside you.

For a long moment, neither of you moved. The only sounds were your ragged breaths and the distant echoes of the party outside.

He leaned forward, pressing a kiss to your shoulder, his lips lingering against your skin.

"I love you," he whispered, the words soft and sincere.

You turned your head, meeting his gaze. "I love you too, Michael."

He pulled out gently, and you both collapsed onto the sofa, your bodies tangled together, your skin slick with sweat.

He pulled a throw blanket from the back of the sofa, draping it over your naked forms, his arm wrapping around your waist.

"We should probably go back soon," you murmured, your eyes already growing heavy.

"Five more minutes," he said, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. "Just five more minutes."

You smiled, nestling into his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your ear.

era: post-triumph tour

contents: jealous!michael x fem!reader, nervous!michael, the jackson brothers are present, pool party, everyone stealing you from michael every two seconds, fluff, tiny bit angst, more than friends but less than lovers trope (?), not proofread, ect ect

w/a: i’m sorry i didn’t post this yesterday, but im here now !! but since i didn’t post this yesterday ive had time to work on this all day and make it longer than usual 👀. i hope you enjoy even tho no one asked for this lol

the sun blazed over the jackson family backyard, making the water in the pool sparkle like glass. music blasted from boombox near the patio while laughter bounced through the air. the smell of barbecue and chlorine mixed together perfectly, creating the kind of summer day people remembered forever. michael leaned back in his chair beneath a large umbrella, sunglasses sliding down the bridge of his nose as he watched his brothers argue over who cheated during volleyball. nearby, jermaine was laughing loudly while tossing a beach ball toward tito. everything felt loud, warm, and chaotic, then you walked outside. michael nearly choked on his lemonade.

you wore a beautiful deep blue swimsuit that shimmered under the sunlight, paired with a thin white cover-up that barely stayed tied around your waist. it wasn’t inappropriate, but it definitely turned heads. the swimsuit hugged your figure perfectly, and when the breeze caught your hair, michael swore his heart skipped an entire beat. “lord have mercy,” jermaine muttered seductively beside him. michael instantly frowned. “can you not?” he mumbled. jermaine only grinned wider. “what? I got eyes.” you smiled brightly at everyone as you stepped onto the patio. “hey!” several Jackson brothers greeted you at once. “there she is!” “you finally made it!” “about time!” michael stood up immediately, almost tripping over the leg of his chair in the process. you noticed and smiled warmly at him first, that alone made his chest feel lighter. “hey michael!!” “h-hi,” he stammered, suddenly very aware of how sweaty his palms were. “you look really- i mean… uh… nice.” your cheeks grew hotter slightly. “thank you.” before michael could say another word, jermaine casually slung an arm around your shoulders. “come help me settle an argument,” he said. “tell tito his volleyball serve looks ridiculous.” michael watched helplessly as jermaine guided you away, his shoulders immediately sank. marlon snorted from nearby. “man, you gotta move faster than that.” michael glared at him. “i was talking to her.” “barely.” the afternoon continued like that.

every single time michael managed to gather enough courage to approach you, one of his brothers somehow appeared out of nowhere. when he tried sitting beside you near the pool, jackie challenged you to a race across the water. when michael offered to grab you a drink, randy beat him to it first. when he finally worked up the nerve to ask if you wanted to dance to the music playing outside, jermaine swooped in dramatically with a bow and stole you away before michael could even finish his sentence. the worst part? you seemed to genuinely enjoy yourself. you laughed at their jokes, splashed around in the pool with them, and smiled so brightly that michael couldn’t even blame his brothers for liking you. everybody liked you. that was the problem.

at some point, everyone migrated into the pool to cool off from the heat. water splashed everywhere while music echoed. jermaine suddenly clapped his hands loudly. “chicken fight!” immediately, the brothers started pairing off and arguing over teams. “oh, we are absolutely destroying y’all,” tito announced confidently. “in your dreams,” jackie shot back. michael stood waist-deep in the water, watching you laugh while pushing wet hair out of your face. sunlight reflected against droplets on your skin, and for a second he completely tuned out the chaos around him. he wanted to ask you. the thought hit him instantly. ‘get on my shoulders.’ he imagined saying. the idea alone made his stomach flip nervously. he imagined your hands on his head for balance, your laugh close to his ears while you both tried knocking the others over. for once, michael acted quickly. “well maybe me and-” “yo, you’re with me,” jermaine interrupted smoothly, swimming directly toward you before michael could even finish. your eyes widened in surprise as jermaine bent slightly in the water. “c’mon,” he grinned. “we gotta win this thing.” “oh my god,” you laughed. “you’re very confident.” “because I’m the best jackson.” “that is absolutely not true,” several brothers yelled at once. michael stood frozen. jermaine had beaten him to it. again. you climbed carefully onto jermaines shoulders while everyone cheered dramatically. michael tried not to stare too long, but he couldn’t help noticing how naturally comfortable you looked laughing with his brother. “you good up there?” Jermaine asked. “yeah!” you said, gripping his shoulders lightly. meanwhile, michael got paired with randy, who immediately noticed his mood. “you okay?” michael forced a shrug. “fine.” “you got that kicked puppy look again.” “i do not.” “you absolutely do.” before michael could argue further, the game started.

the pool erupted into chaos. everyone splashed wildly while trying to shove each other over. you laughed loudly as you attempted pushing Jackie backward while jermaine held onto your legs for support. michael couldn’t help smiling a little hearing your laugh. then jermaine spun suddenly, nearly throwing you off balance. you squealed and grabbed onto his curls to steady yourself. michaels smile vanished instantly. “careful!” he shouted before he could stop himself. you looked over at him, surprised. “i’m okay!” jermaine smirked knowingly at michael from across the pool. michael wanted to drown him. a few minutes later, jermaine finally got taken down by tito and both of you crashed dramatically into the water. you resurfaced laughing breathlessly. “that was cheating!” “no mercy in this pool!” tito yelled. michael swam over almost immediately. “you alright?” he asked softly. you smiled at him. “you ask that every five minutes.” “because y’all play too rough,” he muttered. your expression softened slightly at the concern in his voice. for a brief moment, it finally felt like you and michael had your own little space away from everyone else. then marlon splashed michael directly in the face. “quit flirting and help us!” the moment shattered instantly.

michael sat quietly at the edge of the pool later on, dipping his fingers into the water while watching jermaine make you laugh again. a familiar ache settled in his chest. maybe you liked jermaine better, or jackie, or honestly any of them. michael knew his brothers were confident, smooth, outgoing. they could flirt effortlessly without overthinking every word. meanwhile, he felt awkward every time you looked directly at him for too long. “mike?” he blinked and looked up. you stood nearby holding two popsicles, your sunglasses resting atop your head. “you disappeared,” you said softly. “oh… uh… just relaxing.” you frowned slightly before sitting beside him. for a second, michaels heart lifted. then tito cannonballed into the pool directly in front of you both, soaking the patio with water. you squealed in surprise before laughing loudly. “okay, that was personal!” you shouted. “come get revenge!” tito yelled. you looked back at michael apologetically. “i’ll be right back.” michael forced a smile. “sure.” and once again, you were gone. his chest tightened. he hated how childish he felt. it wasn’t your fault his brothers were naturally charming. It wasn’t your fault he got insecure so easily. but every time he watched someone else make you smile, that little voice in his head grew louder. you don’t really want him around. the party slowly shifted into evening. orange sunlight stretched across the backyard while music played softer now, calmer.

most of the family remained outside by the grill, but michael slipped quietly into the house. the kitchen was cool and quiet compared to the noise outside. he opened the refrigerator and grabbed the orange juice carton, pouring himself a glass slowly while staring blankly at the counter. he felt stupid for being upset, but he couldn’t help it. he liked you so much it physically hurt sometimes. “you okay?” michael nearly jumped. he turned to see you standing in the kitchen doorway, concern written all over your face. “oh, yeah. I’m fine.” “you sure?” he nodded too quickly. “mhm.” you walked closer anyway. “i’ve known you long enough to know when you’re lying.” michael looked down at his glass. you leaned gently against the counter beside him. up close, he could smell sunscreen and chlorine lingering on your skin. “you’ve been quiet all afternoon,” you said softly. “did I do something wrong?” his eyes widened instantly. “no! no, never.” “then what is it?” michael hesitated. part of him wanted to brush it off completely. another part of him was tired of swallowing his feelings. he sighed quietly. “i just…” he paused, struggling for the right words. “i feel like every time i try to spend time with you, somebody pulls you away.” your expression softened immediately. “oh.” michael gave a weak laugh. “sounds dumb when i say it out loud.” “it doesn’t.” he shrugged awkwardly. “my brothers are better at this stuff than me.” “at what stuff?” “talking. flirting. being… confident.” you stared at him in disbelief for a moment. “michael, are you serious?” he looked embarrassed instantly. “well… yeah.” “you think your brothers are more charming than you?” “i mean…” he gestured vaguely. “look at them.” you crossed your arms. “I have been.”michaels stomach dropped slightly.

then you smiled instantly. “and I still spent the whole day trying to get your attention.” he blinked. “what?” “you kept running away from me.” “i did not-” “you absolutely did,” you interrupted with a laugh. “every time one of your brothers dragged me somewhere, you disappeared afterward.” michael opened his mouth, then closed it again. okay, maybe you had a point. you stepped closer. “michael, I don’t care about jermaine flirting with me, or anybody else.” his heartbeat quickened. “i care about you.” the room suddenly felt very still. michael stared at you like he wasn’t sure he heard correctly. “you mean that?” “of course I do.” a shy smile slowly spread across his face, soft and genuine. “you really had me thinking all day,” he admitted quietly. “i thought maybe you liked one of them better.” you laughed softly. “not even close.” michael looked down bashfully, his curls falling slightly into his eyes. “you looked really beautiful today,” he admitted suddenly. your cheeks warmed. “that swimsuit almost killed me.” you burst into laughter, covering your face. “michael!” “i’m serious!” he said, laughing too now. “i couldn’t even think straight.” “we all knew you were acting strange, but couldn’t point out why.” “i know.” “jermaine definitely noticed too.” michael groaned loudly. “please don’t tell me he said something.” “he asked if you were jealous.” michael nearly dropped his glass. “oh my god.” you laughed harder at his horrified expression.

pairing : michael jackson x maid's daughter!reader wc : 6.2k rating : fluff era : 1970s (j5 through otw)

summary : you were never supposed to leave your portion of the house. the rules were simple: stay in your wing, don't wander, don't forget who you are and who they are. but seven years later you're on a balcony in the rain and michael is finally telling you what you've both known for years, like it's been eating him alive. warnings : none really, slow burn, time skips, slight class difference & power imbalance, i introduced a pet rat named ben lol, mutual pining & jealousy, mild angst, emotional tension, angry rain confession, no use of y/n

playlist : : ̗̀➛ the things we did last summer - jo stafford : ̗̀➛ i’ve got a crush on you - ella fitzgerald : ̗̀➛ tonight may have to last me all my life - nancy wilson : ̗̀➛ be my baby - the ronettes : ̗̀➛ i’ll be there - jackson 5 : ̗̀➛ just the way you are - billy joel

a/n: based on this request. i enjoyed writing this! i hope u like it :c

Content: Post off the Wall/Pre thriller Era- Vet Reader x Michael ,fluff, A little angsty , Smut( a little kinky if you squint) , quite filthy, oral sex , DRY HUMPING, Soft Dom Michael!! ( long time no see guys :) ) got carried away ngl ;)

Summary: You accompany Michael to his New York apartment where you will stay with him for the next 2 weeks while he performs there. Just as he promised he takes you to Studio 54, where you get to see a different side of Michael. You knew Michael was a hot commodity but you didn’t know how much it would effect you…

———————————————————————-

The drive through New York felt almost unreal.

The city buzzed outside the windows with a life entirely different from California. Endless rows of glowing buildings stretched toward the evening sky, yellow taxi cabs darted between traffic, and people hurried along sidewalks as if the city itself never allowed anyone to slow down.You found yourself staring out the window almost the entire ride, fascinated by everything.Every few minutes Michael would glance over at you instead of the skyline.

Not because New York wasn’t beautiful.

Because watching you experience it somehow made it even better.

When the car finally rolled to a stop outside his apartment building, Bill Bray stepped out first before opening the back door.“We’re here,” he smiled.

Michael climbed out before offering you his hand.

You gladly took it.

Inside, the apartment was much smaller than Hayvenhurst, but somehow it felt even more personal.It didn’t have towering ceilings or endless hallways.

Instead, it felt lived in.

Comfortable.

The living room held a well-loved couch with a knitted blanket folded neatly over one arm. Records were stacked carefully beside the stereo, several notebooks rested on the coffee table with pencils tucked between their pages, and a bookshelf overflowed with music books, poetry collections, children’s stories, and magazines.Photographs sat on shelves in simple frames family, friends, moments from tours.

Near one window stood a healthy collection of houseplants Michael proudly admitted he was trying very hard not to forget to water.The apartment carried a faint scent of clean laundry, cedar, paper, and the familiar cologne Michael always wore.

It was Warm.Quiet.Safe.

You slowly turned in a circle, taking everything in.Even after only a few minutes, a strange thought settled into your heart.You already knew you weren’t going to want to leave in two weeks.

“You like it?”

His voice came softly from behind you.

Before you could answer, you felt him lean down and place a gentle kiss against your cheek.

You smiled immediately.

Turning around, you wrapped your arms around him without hesitation.

“It’s so you,” you laughed quietly.

Michael blinked.

“What do you mean?”

“It even smells like you.”

You buried your face dramatically against his shoulder before taking an exaggerated sniff.

“Mhm.”

Another dramatic sniff.

“Yep.”

You nodded with complete seriousness.

“Definitely smells like Michael.”

He stared at you for exactly one second before laughing so hard he bent forward.

“No it doesn’t.”

“It does.”

“It absolutely does not.”

“It absolutely does.”

You took another ridiculous exaggerated sniff around the room.

“I think if somebody blindfolded me and dropped me in here, I’d know whose apartment it was.”

Michael shook his head, smiling so widely his dimples appeared.

“You are unbelievable.”

“I know.”

He slipped his arms around your waist then, pulling you closer.

“I was nervous you’d think it was… I don’t know… too basic .”

You looked around again before meeting his eyes.

“It feels like home.”

The words left your mouth without thinking.Michael became very still.

Because no one had ever described this apartment that way before.

To him, this place had always represented long rehearsals, exhausting performances, lonely evenings, and quiet nights spent missing California.It had always been somewhere temporary.Somewhere he slept.Never somewhere that truly felt warm.

Until now.

He rested his forehead lightly against yours.

“I’m really happy you’re here.”

“So am I.”

For the first time since arriving in New York, the apartment didn’t feel empty anymore.

It felt shared.

That realization alone filled Michael with a quiet happiness he couldn’t quite explain.There was no need to whisper here.No brothers barging into his room without knocking.No teasing voices interrupting your conversations to call the two of you “the weird match made in heaven.” No worrying about waking someone while laughing over board games late into the night.No more of his thoughts eating him alive as you two would do freakish things to eachother with his mom just down the hallway

Just…

Peace.

The kind he’d been searching for without realizing it.After unpacking your suitcase, you wandered toward the bathroom.

“I’m gonna take a quick shower before bed.”

“I’ll probably work on a few lyrics,” Michael replied, already opening one of his notebooks.

The apartment soon settled into a comfortable silence.The sound of running water echoed faintly down the hallway while Michael sat at the dining table, absentmindedly tapping his pencil against the page.Every now and then he’d hum a melody under his breath before quickly scribbling another line into his notebook.Music always seemed to arrive without warning.

A little while later your voice called from the bathroom.

“Michael?”

He looked up immediately.

“Sweetie… could you grab my towel, please? I forgot to bring it in.”

Michael swallowed hard , he didn’t want to seem like pervert , No, he’s far from it,

But since that intimate night 3 weeks ago he hasn’t seen your naked body since , he had been extremely busy with practices and studio time , but the vision of it didn’t leave his mind.

He knew that if he saw you he didn’t know if he could contain himself .

He already crossed the barrier of oral sex, and even that was a huge step for him, he wanted to wait for you two to have sex , he wanted the moment to be special , memorable, and also he just had simply no idea what to do when it came to penetration.

“Michael? Baby I’m freezing here hurry please “ you say getting slightly impatient, you just figured he was caught up in a melody in his head and forgot you said something.

“S- sorry baby I’m coming” he opens his cabinet and grabs a towel , strategically he slightly opens the door so your gorgeous naked body was not in his view, he didn’t know if he could handle seeing you like that, not right now, he had a performance he needed to focus on tomorrow, and your body was enough to blur his thoughts.

“Thank you,” you laughed warmly as you took it.

“You make this look like a secret mission.”

His ears turned a faint red.

“I was just… trying to be respectful.”

Your smile softened.

“I know.”

It was one of the countless little things you loved about him.His kindness always seemed to appear in the smallest moments.

By the time you stepped back into the bedroom wearing comfortable pajama pants and an oversized sleep shirt, Michael had already returned to the dining table.

His pencil moved steadily across another page.

You watched him quietly for a moment.

Completely absorbed.Humming softly.Crossing out a lyric.Writing another.

Tomorrow was important.He had rehearsals, interviews, and performances waiting for him.

Not wanting to interrupt his creative rhythm, you slipped beneath the blankets and let the quiet sounds of the city slowly lull you toward sleep.Much later, after his notebook finally closed for the night, Michael quietly made his way into the bedroom.The apartment was dark except for the faint glow of city lights filtering through the curtains.

Carefully, so he wouldn’t wake you, he eased into bed behind you.He wrapped one arm gently around your waist before pressing a feather-light kiss against your forehead.

Then your temple.Then your cheek.

“I love you so much,” he whispered into the quiet room. “I’m so glad you’re here.”He smiled to himself, convinced you were already asleep.

Then you answered softly.

“I love you too, Michael.”

His eyes widened.

“I thought you were sleeping.”

“I almost was.”

You smiled without opening your eyes.

“I’m glad I’m here too.”

Michael laughed quietly under his breath before pulling you a little closer.

For years, this apartment had always been the loneliest place he knew.No laughter.No family.No familiar noise drifting down the hallway.

Just silence after long days of work.

Tonight, though, the silence felt completely different.Not empty.Peaceful.

Because for the first time, he wasn’t coming home alone.

He was coming home to you

————————————————————————

The roar of the crowd was unlike anything you’d ever experienced.Even before the lights dimmed, the theater buzzed with anticipation. Every seat was filled, conversations blending into one excited hum as people clutched programs and craned their necks toward the stage.

You sat comfortably in the very front row, exactly where Michael had insisted you be.

“I want to know where you are,” he’d told you the night before. “Then every time I look out there… I’ll know you’re watching.”

Beside you sat Bill Bray, who had quickly become someone you genuinely enjoyed getting to know over time.

He glanced toward the stage before looking over at you with an amused smile.

“Nervous?”

You laughed.

“More than he probably is.”

Bill chuckled knowingly.

“You’ll calm down once he gets out there.”

The house lights suddenly went dark.

Immediately the entire theater erupted.Screams echoed from every direction as the first notes of music blasted through the speakers.

Then

Michael appeared.

Your breath caught instantly.

You’d seen him dance countless times while practicing in his room.You’d watched him absentmindedly hum melodies while cooking breakfast.You’d laughed watching him perform goofy little dances around hayvenhurst while trying to make you smile.

But this…

This was different.

The second his feet touched that stage, something inside him transformed.

Every movement became effortless.Every step landed perfectly with the music.

The spotlight followed him as if it belonged to him alone, catching every spin, every sharp turn, every graceful glide across the stage.

His confidence seemed almost magnetic.He wasn’t simply performing.He was telling a story with every movement.The audience couldn’t take their eyes off him.

Neither could you.

His curls bounced with each dance move, dampening gradually beneath the heat of the stage lights, while the smile stretching across his face looked brighter than anything you’d seen all week.There was a freedom in him up there.The shy young man who blushed when you complimented him seemed to disappear beneath the music.In his place stood someone fearless.Electric.Completely alive.

You found yourself smiling so hard your cheeks hurt.Every now and then Michael’s eyes swept across the audience.

And every single time they found yours.His smile grew just a little bigger.Like seeing you there grounded him.

People leaped from their seats, dancing in the aisles, clapping in rhythm and singing every lyric back to him.The energy inside the theater became infectious.Even you found yourself standing, clapping, laughing, completely caught up in the excitement surrounding you.

By the final song, the entire audience was on its feet.

The applause seemed endless.

When Michael took his final bow, his chest rose and fell heavily from exertion, his smile genuine as he thanked the crowd one last time before disappearing backstage.You practically floated there for a moment.

Bill stood.

“C’mon.”

He smiled knowingly.

“I think somebody back there is more excited to see you than anybody else.”

Backstage buzzed with organized chaos.Crew members hurried past carrying equipment while producers congratulated performers and assistants rushed in every direction.

Then you spotted him.

Michael stood near the dressing rooms, completely drenched in sweat from the performance.

His curls clung to his forehead, his shirt stuck lightly against his back, and he was still catching his breath as someone handed him a bottle of water. God. Did he looked so sexy.

The second he looked up and saw you,

Everything else disappeared.His entire face lit up.

Without thinking, you hurried straight toward him.He barely had enough time to set the water bottle down before you wrapped your arms tightly around him.You didn’t care that he was soaked.Didn’t care that he was warm from dancing beneath blazing stage lights.

You were simply proud of him.

“You were incredible,” you whispered, pulling back just enough to look at him.

Your hands gently cupped his face before you placed one kiss on his forehead.

“You are truly talented, Michael.”

Another kiss on his lips.

“You were amazing up there.”

Michael smiled so softly it almost made your heart ache.Out of everything that had happened tonight

The cheering.The standing ovation.The applause.

This,

This was the moment he’d been waiting for.

Coming back to you.

He leaned forward, returning your affection with gentle kisses against your forehead and cheeks.“Thank you, my love,” he murmured.

His voice had gone quiet again.

That familiar softness returning now that the stage lights were behind him.“It means more hearing it from you than anybody else.”

Your heart practically melted.One of his hands slipped naturally into yours while the other brushed a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

For a few peaceful moments, the noisy backstage hallway faded into the background.It felt like you were the only two people there.Then Michael’s eyes suddenly brightened with excitement.

“Oh!”

He laughed.

“Are you ready for tonight?”

You raised an eyebrow playfully.

“For what?”

His grin widened.

“Studio 54.”

The words alone made your excitement return full force.

Michael chuckled at your expression.

“It’s gonna be jumping tonight.”

His eyes sparkled with boyish excitement.

“I can’t wait to take you.”

You laughed, looping your arm through his.“Baby…” “My outfit’s already laid out on your bed.”

You leaned in, smiling from ear to ear.“I’ve never been more ready in my life.”.

He squeezed your hand once.

“Good.”

“Because tonight”

He shook his head with an excited grin.

“Is gonna be unforgettable

————————————————————————

Your outfit was perfect: a shiny, dark purple jumpsuit that caught every light in the room. It had a low neckline, a silver belt that showed off your waist, and wide pant legs that moved beautifully when you walked.

Michael looked amazing too. He wore a smooth black silk shirt, unbuttoned just enough at the top, and tight purple pants that matched yours perfectly. Over it, he wore a silver blazer that sparked under the lights, and his black shoes were polished and bright. You feel your face heat up, feeling a rush of excitement. He looked so good, and you knew he was going to own the dance floor tonight.

“Gosh girl, give me one more twirl,” Michael said with a big smile. He took your hand, lifted it up, and spun you around.

You laughed as he spun you for the third time in a row, the room blurring into a mix of colors.

The purple fabric fanned beautifully around your legs before settling again. His knees felt weak at how your figure looked in such tight clothing.

He grinned, biting his lip.

“Again.”

“Michael, come on, Bill is outside waiting for us,” you laughed, catching your balance and pulling him down the hallway by his wrist.

He groaned dramatically.

“But I was admiring you.” He playfully whines

“You can admire me in the elevator.”

“I planned on admiring you all night.”

You both got into the car and headed to Studio 54.

When you got there, it felt like magic. It was just like the pictures, but a million times better. The air inside was warm and thick, filled with the smell of perfume and hairspray. Huge, bright lights flashed over a crowd of dancing people. A giant moon sculpture hung from the ceiling, and silver glitter drifted through the air like snow. Mirrors on every wall made the room look never-ending and wild.

Right away, a man walked up to greet Michael.

“How have you been, Michael? Haven’t seen you here in a while. Who is this beautiful girl you brought with you?” the man asked. He looked you up and down, staring for way too long.

“She’s my girlfriend,” Michael said, his voice turning deep and serious. He quickly placed his hand on your waist, pulling you close to his side with a tight grip. Was Michael… jealous?

“Lucky guy,” the man chuckled, holding his hands up.

“I know,” Michael said shortly. He stopped talking to the man and guided you away into the crowd.

You smiled to yourself, your heart beating fast. You had never seen Michael act so protective before, and it was really sexy.

When you finally got onto the dance floor, the heavy beat of the music took over. Dancing with Michael was pure fun. It felt amazing to just let loose and forget about everyone else. You both moved perfectly together, laughing as he spun you out and pulled you back in. Michael was completely focused on you, watching the way you moved with a huge, happy smile on his face. He was in a total trance, his eyes stuck on how you moved your hips, a breathless, genuine smile plastered across his face.

But the fun stopped when a girl walked up to him. She was very pretty, so pretty that it hurt to admit it.

“Hey Michael, I missed seeing you here,” she said loudly over the music, throwing her arms around his neck for a big hug.

You felt your hands turn into fists. Why did she have to be so pretty? And why did she have to hug him like that?

Michael pulled back from the hug with a warm smile and turned to look for you. He reached out, grabbing your hand to pull you closer to his side.

“Hey, it’s been a while,” Michael said to her, before looking down at you. “This is my girlfriend.”

The girl’s smile instantly dropped. She looked you up and down, giving you a total stank face. She looked so annoyed but because Michael was looking at you, he completely missed it. She gave you a half-assed, lazy wave, barely lifting her fingers.

“Nice to meet you,” she said, her voice sounding totally fake.

Before you could even say anything back, she started moving to the beat of the music, looking right at Michael. “Come on, Michael, dance with me!”

And without even missing a beat, he started dancing with her.

And she was a really good dancer, too. It made you so mad. It felt like he forgot you were even there. Sure, Michael had danced with other women before. To him, dancing was just something to be shared with everyone. But his innocent brain forgot that he had a girlfriend now, and dancing with another girl like this was not okay.

Soon, a big crowd of people surrounded Michael and the girl. They were all people he knew, and they were thrilled to see him back in New York. They formed a circle, clapping along to the beat, cutting you out completely.

You started to feel very small. You didn't know anything about this fancy lifestyle. You weren't famous, and you weren't the child of anyone famous. You only knew Michael, and no one else in this whole club. He seemed different here, so confident and out of reach. It was nice to see him happy, but it felt like you didn't exist to him anymore. He gave you a few quick smiles over her shoulder, and you forced a fake smile back, but inside you were deeply jealous and hurt. You started to wonder if you should even be with someone as famous as Michael.

Maybe you just didn’t fit into his world?

You started to worry that one day he would leave you for a girl who was also a star, someone everyone already knew. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you walked away from the crowd. You found an empty chair and sat down, slowly drinking the last bit of your water while the ice melted.

Is this how it’s going to be every time we go out? How can this relationship work?

That was all you could think about while Michael danced under the bright lights, having the time of his life.

When the crowd finally died down, only then did Michael realize you weren’t next to him. It wasn’t on purpose; he had just gotten too excited and completely lost in a fun moment. But now his heart was pumping fast. Where were you? Was all of this too much for you? How could he be so stupid not to check on you while he was dancing?

Then, his eyes fell on you. You looked so beautiful, but sadness hung heavily in your eyes. He could tell he had messed up big time.

You didn’t even notice Michael walking up behind you, so when he tapped your shoulder, you jumped a bit.

”Oh, it’s you,” you said, pushing out a small giggle to try and ease the awkward situation.

“I’m so sorry. I could’ve sworn you were close to me. I should’ve made sure—”

You cut him off. It had been a whole hour since you two parted ways on the dance floor, and you were completely ready to just go back to the apartment.

“It’s okay, Michael, really. I’m just ready to go, if that’s okay,” you said in a monotone voice, trying your hardest to hide how hurt you were.

“No, no, yeah, sure. It’s okay,” he said quickly. His face felt hot and his heart was pounding against his ribs. He had wanted this to be such a good night for you, but instead, he felt like he completely ruined it.

In the car on the way back to the apartment, the silence was heavy. Michael couldn't stop thinking about what he had done on the dance floor. I should’ve made sure I was by her side, he thought to himself, a knot forming in his stomach. I’m such an idiot. I should’ve made sure she was okay. I should’ve been more aware of what I was doing.

Meanwhile, you just stared out the window at the passing city lights. Your eyes were blurry with tears, and you genuinely didn't know what to say.

You two finally made it back, and the quiet followed you all the way down the hall and into his apartment room.

”Baby…” Michael said, his voice slightly cracking as the front door clicked shut.

“Hm,” you replied softly. You walked over to the couch and sat down, slowly removing your uncomfortable heels. You felt bad for being so quiet, but you knew that if you started talking right now, you would definitely cry.

“I’m so sorry. I should’ve made sure you were around me. I should’ve made sure you were okay—”

“I feel like a burden to you,” you said, cutting him off yet again. You finally covered your face with your hands, tears falling past your fingers.

“You shouldn’t have to constantly check on me. I just don’t fit in. That girl you were dancing with seemed more like your speed,” you sobbed, the words tumbling out. “It’s like I instantly went away into the shadows while you were having the time of your life. What if I don’t fit into this world of yours? What if people think I’m not good enough for you? What if I'm not good enough for you?”

You couldn't hide it anymore. You sniffed in between every single sentence, your shoulders shaking.

“Angel… “ he said softly. His heart broke hearing you talk down on yourself like that, and it killed him to know that he was the one who made you feel this way.

“Angel, all of those things are not true,” Michael said, stepping closer. He gently knelt in front of you, removing your wet hands from your face. With two fingers under your chin, he lifted your face up so your eyes met his.

”You are my world, okay? And my job is to make sure you're okay regardless of where we are. Your status doesn’t matter to me. All those people out there, they barely even know me—not like you do. That alone makes you so special, and so, so much better than the rest. I’m so sorry for making you feel like that, angel. I promise to never make you feel like a burden ever again, okay?”

Michael then pulled you tightly into a hug. He held the back of your head gently in his hand, nuzzling his face into your shoulder as if he never wanted to let you go.

His warm words and tight grip instantly soothed the anxious beat of your heart.

You sniffed, burying your face into his neck. “Thank you, baby. I was just really in my head tonight,” you whispered, accidentally wetting Michael’s silk shirt with your tears, finally feeling safe again in his arms

You pulled back a bit from the hug and planted a kiss on Michael’s lips. It was a soft, simple peck, and you couldn't help but smile into the kiss.

Michael finally calmed down, feeling a huge wave of relief wash over him knowing that he had made you feel okay. He pulled back just enough to look at you, a big, toothy grin spreading across his face.

”What?” you asked, giggling a little and wondering why he had such a ridiculous, happy look on his face.

”You’re smiling again. There’s my pretty girl,” he whispered softly. He placed one of his warm hands on your cheek and leaned back in to kiss you, this time making it a little deeper.

You returned the deep kiss and pulled him closer to you. He was still on his knees on the floor in front of you, but now his body was positioned right between your legs.

You slid your tongue into his mouth, which earned a small, low groan from the back of Michael’s throat. The kiss got unexpectedly heated very quickly, and Michael was already a total mess for you.

His hands began to roam, moving from your hips up to your waist. He slowly moved his palms around your figure, gently squeezing every inch of your body as if he needed to remind himself that you were really there. His hands were so large and warm, and in contrast to his cold, chilly apartment, the heat of his touch made you completely melt.

The kiss was getting sloppy and certainly messy. The two of you were moving around so much, completely lost in each other, that your movements accidentally knocked down a small vase that was on a table right behind Michael. It hit the floor with a loud thud, but neither of you seemed to care.

You felt yourself getting more and more worked up, a slick warmth brewing inside you as you shifted against the heavy fabric of your jumpsuit, desperate for a closer touch.

Michael was completely lost in the feeling of your body. He was fully erect, his heat pressing hard against the edge of the couch as he tried to get closer to you. Sensing his desperation, you opened your legs wider, wanting to feel him against you completely, and that’s when—

Rip.

The tight, purple fabric split right down the center seam.

You gasped as the sudden, chilly air of the apartment hit your bare skin. Because the outfit was so skin-tight, you hadn't worn any underwear to avoid lines showing through, leaving you completely exposed to him now.

You froze, instantly expecting Michael to laugh or make a childish joke to break the tension. But when you looked down at him, there was no amusement on his face. The look in his dark eyes was pure hunger.

Seeing you exposed like that, glistening and flushed with arousal right through the center of your ruined pants, drove him completely feral. The sweet, heavy scent of you filled the small space between your bodies, shattering whatever restraint he had left.

“Oh god,” Michael finally breathed out, his voice incredibly deep and raspy. He stared up at you from his knees, his chest heaving as his hands gripped your thighs, pulling you firmly toward the edge of the cushion. “Let me taste you, angel. Let me make you feel good... please.”

You nodded, biting your lip hard to brace yourself as you waited for the heat of his tongue to press against your sensitive clit.

Gently lifting your legs, he guided your lower back to slide down the couch slightly, giving himself the perfect angle. Michael took the very tip of his tongue and began to slowly swirl it in agonizingly deliberate circles around your clit, causing your spine to arch off the cushions. It felt incredibly good, but the slow, teasing pace was pure torture. You needed more.

“Please, Michael,” you managed to whine, your hands gripping the fabric of the sofa.

“I’m taking my time with you tonight,” he murmured in a low, husky tone, his hot breath brushing against your skin. “I need you to feel every single inch of how sorry I am.” To prove his point, he used his fingers to rip the split fabric of your pants up a little higher, gaining completely unhindered access to your needy heat.

His tongue found you again, slowly licking up and down, collecting the sweet slickness of your arousal before he suddenly picked up the pace.

Now, your clit was being flicked by the tip of his tongue at a rapid, relentless speed. Loud, wet noises filled the quiet apartment. The sensation was completely unreal. He was right there on his knees below you, looking up with sweat breaking out on his forehead and absolute determination burning in his large eyes, completely devouring you.

Your hands scrambled for a pillow next to you, squeezing it tight as your teeth dug into your bottom lip. “Michael… oh shit… Michael,” was all you could gasp out as he completely ruined your composure. The friction of his tongue was perfect. He pushed deeper inside you, burying his face fully between your thighs.

The sight of you was breathtaking to him. Your lips were puffy and red from crying, but you looked more beautiful than ever, the light sweat glistening on your chest making your skin shine under the dim room lights. Michael felt a massive wave of pleasure hit him, letting out a heavy moan right against your core as if he were about to cum in his pants right then and there.

He began to push his tongue in and out of you, looking up at you with those big, doe eyes, silently asking for your approval as you creamed all around his tongue in response.

“Baby… Shit… baby, I’m gonna cum, oh god—”

Suddenly, he lifted his head and stopped completely.

You gasped, your aching walls clenching around empty air. You needed to cross the edge so badly. “Michael…?”

“I’m sorry, baby. I just want to try something, okay?” he breathed, his voice thick.

He moved from the floor and sat next to you on the couch, quickly discarding his trousers until he was left in just his boxers. You raised an eyebrow, your heart hammering. Was he finally ready to have sex?

“I’m not ready to have sex yet, but… I would like to try something. Sit on top of me, baby,” he pleaded, shifting his heavy, pounding erection inside his underwear.

You climbed over him, straddling his lap, and instantly everything clicked into place.

“You want to dry hump,” you said with a breathless little chuckle.

“Oh, that’s the word for it? Yeah, I wanted to try that,” he admitted, a sudden flash of boyish shyness crossing his features before the hunger took over again.

He gripped your hips with his large hands and slowly began to guide you, sliding your body back and forth over his length. The direct pressure of his hard-on frictioning right against your clit made you throw your head back in pure ecstasy. You were leaking so heavily that your juices instantly soaked right through the thin cotton of his boxers. Feeling your slick warmth flooding his length through the underwear caused low, desperate groans and whines to break from Michael’s throat.

Your head fell back once more, but Michael reached up, his fingers firmly catching your chin to pull your face forward. “Look at me. I want to see how much of a pretty mess you turn into.”

The scene was incredibly filthy. The sounds echoing in the room were completely uninhibited, a stark contrast to the sweet, gentle intimacy the two of you usually shared. He picked up the pace, aggressively moving your hips while simultaneously thrusting his own hips upward. The clothed tip of his length repeatedly abused your clit, sending your pleasure skyrocketing to a dangerous high.

You were so incredibly wet that his boxers were fully stained with your cream and arousal. “You feel so good, baby,” Michael groaned out, his head rolling back.

His own precum was mixing in with your slickness through the fabric. As your heat rode him and clenched hard over his clothed length, he gripped and squeezed your ass for support, his fingers digging into your skin as he felt his own climax building.

“Michael, I’m gonna cum… oh god,” you whimpered. You could feel the most intense orgasm of your life brewing deep inside your stomach, a tight, coil of pressure ready to snap.

“Cum for me, Angel,” Michael breathlessly ordered, his hips moving faster. “Cum all over me. Let me feel you.”

That was the absolute cherry on top. You broke, cumming violently all over his clothed length, your body shaking as waves of pleasure crashed through you. The tight, pulsing contractions of your heat clamping down on him pushed Michael right over his own edge. “Oh god, yes!” he moaned loudly, desperately riding into your heat one last time as his own warm release flooded his boxers.

After the storm passed, you stayed melted right on top of him, both of you completely out of breath from the heavy movement, chests heaving against one another.

Michael gently wrapped his arms around you, leaning up to press a soft kiss to your damp cheek. “I love you so much, baby. I’m so sorry about tonight.” He stroked your back, his voice returning to its usual gentle cadence. “Let’s go out to dinner tomorrow night. At that one place you’ve always wanted to go to, hm?”

Awwww this is so sweet yes I’m okay !!!

He's Got Game~~~

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part 8

Summary: y/n becomes bold and decides to go to Michael’s house, and everything that happens there is something you’d never expect.

Includes: fluff, mutual confession, and wholesome sleepover.

Word Count: 1,000+

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~~~ 2 days later ~~~

**(Y/N POV)**

It had been forty-eight hours, and he was still the only thing occupying my mind. It was getting ridiculous, honestly. When I was standing in the kitchen folding the laundry, my hands would stall over a simple t-shirt as I drifted off into a vivid daydream about his laugh. When I stood under the streaming water of the shower, the warmth against my skin only reminded me of his presence, making it completely impossible to focus on anything else. My thoughts were entirely consumed by him. Finally, driven by a sudden surge of reckless courage, I decided to do something I never in a million years thought I’d have the nerve to do. I was going to go to his house.

20 Minutes~~~

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Part 7

Summary: after Michael sneaks out he goes to Y/N’s house to get shirt back and comes back and getting question by his mother.

Includes: basically nothing just getting nervous.

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I’ll See You Later~~~

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Part 6

Summary: Randy tells the whole family Michael's secret while Michael needs to see Y/N again.

Includes: Nothing bad just sibling teasing basically.

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I’ll Find Out, One Way or Another~~~

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part 5

Summary: Michael comes back from his “walk” where he meets his brother’s who are confused of the state michael is in.

includes: None! Just some light anxiety/panic from a first kiss, a tiny bit of shoving past a brother, and lots of brotherly teasing.

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(Michael's POV)

I ran three blocks, then slowed to a jog and finally to an embarrassed walk. My heart was pounding like a lion in a cage.

'I kissed her. I actually did that.’ By the time I reached the front door, panic had turned into a strange, dizzying daze. I moved through the living room like a ghost, hardly feeling the floor beneath me. Jackie and Jermaine sat on the main couch, mid-card game, with Marlon flipping through a magazine on the armchair. When the screen door closed, they all looked up.