narrated illusions

"Yeah, that's funny." You commented but your granddaughter eyed you suspiciously.

"Grandma, you didn't even laugh!" She replied with a scrunched up face.

You shrugged. "Doesn't mean it's not funny."

Michael blinked a few times before sighing and relaxing into his seat. "I don't get it and I don't know who that is."

"There's nothing to get?" She cocked her head to the side.

Michael pursed his lips and shrugged. "Then I didn't laugh."

"Are you sassing me, old man?" Your granddaughter sassed back.

He chuckled. "No, I'm telling you I don't get the joke."

Your granddaughter groaned loudly. You both were unbelievably unbearable. You laughed as Michael sat unbothered while your granddaughter clearly was. "Who are they anyway? Friends of yours?"

Her eyes narrowed. "Friends of mine?"

"Yes, do you know them?" He asked as you nodded along.

"They're entertaining." You added as you rubbed Michael's shoulder.

"Grandpa—y'know what? No I don't." She answered, fully done with the situation.

"Then how'd you get the video?" He asked looking over his glasses with raised eyebrows.

"Please don't upset me." She deadpanned causing Michael to roll his eyes.

"I changed your diapers, I'm not scared of you." He said as you chuckled.

"Did you have a choice?!" She argued back.

This was far more entertaining than the video, in your opinion. "So you don't know them?"

"Grandma please—just laugh." She practically begged.

Your second grandchild just snickered as he shook his head. "That's why I don't show them stuff."

"Shut up." The eldest snapped causing you to put your hand on your hip.

"Excuse you?" That motherly tone coming out as she sheepishly apologized as your eyes narrowed. Grandma didn't play that.

I love old people 😛 these really be based off my parents and grandparents and I think they’re (reader and mj) probably in their ¿late 50s/early60s? idk I’m not going off of his real timeline (obvi) yk? Just vibe.

You and Kate giggled, settling back down on her bed.

The bedroom glowed softly beneath the warm yellow nightlight. Stuffed animals covered nearly every inch of the quilt. One of Michael’s old tour jackets hung over the rocking chair because Kate insisted it made monsters afraid to come into her room since it smelled like her daddy.

Michael opened the worn copy of Peter Pan, though neither of you truly needed to read it anymore.

He knew every page by heart.

“There once was a boy…” he began softly, “…who never wanted to grow up.”

Kate tucked the blanket beneath her chin.

“…and because he never wanted to grow up,” Michael continued, smiling at her wide eyes, “he found a wonderful place called Neverland.”

“A real place?” she whispered, wonder in her eyes.

“A real place if you believe in it enough,” he answered.

You brushed a curl away from her forehead as she giggled up at you.

“It had mermaids,” Michael said dramatically.

“And pirates,” you added.

“And fairies, and princesses.” he said with a smile.

Kate gasped. “Like mommy!”

Michael leaned forward, pressing a kiss to your lips briefly. You smiled, bashful.

“Yes, just like your mommy.” He whispered out adoringly.

“And adventures around every corner.” He continued.

Kate listened with complete fascination until the story ended, her imagination already soaring far above the bedroom ceiling.

Then she tilted her head, thinking very hard.

“But…”

Michael smiled. “But?”

She frowned a little to herself.

“Neverland isn’t real.”

The room fell quiet for just a second.

You looked over at Michael.

He looked back at you.

The two of you couldn’t help smiling—not because she was wrong, but because one day, you hoped she’d discover that some places didn’t need magic to exist.

Some places were built by the people inside them.

Michael looked back at your daughter.

“Ohh, I don’t know Kate…” He shook his head with exaggerated seriousness.

“I think Neverland is very real.”

Kate looked up at the two of you.

“It is?”

“Ohh, yes,” you chimed in. “It just might not look the way everyone expects.”

“It isn’t just a place you fly to,” Michael added. “Sometimes Neverland is wherever people make you feel safe enough to be yourself.”

“Where you’re loved,” you continued softly. “And accepted.”

“And protected.” Michael said warmly.

Kate considered that for a moment before another question appeared in her eyes.

“Mommy?”

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“If Neverland is supposed to be happy…” she murmured thoughtfully, “…do they let everyone come?”

You tilted your head.

“What do you mean?”

She fiddled with one of the stuffed rabbits beside her.

“Even… people who are different?”

Silence settled gently across the room.

Michael looked toward you.

You looked back at him.

Neither of you needed words.

Your answer had always been the same.

You leaned down until your forehead rested against hers.

“Yes. Especially people who are different."

Michael smiled warmly.

“With all their hearts.”

Kate blinked, smiling widely.

“Really?”

“Really,” Michael answered with conviction. “Different doesn’t mean someone deserves less love.”

You nodded.

“There are all kinds of people in the world, sweetheart. Some people look different. Some think differently. Some love differently. Some move through life differently. But every person deserves kindness.”

“Nobody should have to earn being loved,” Michael added. “Love isn’t something people win. It’s something people deserve.”

Kate’s tiny mouth slowly formed a perfect little circle.

“…Wow.”

You laughed quietly. “That’s all?”

“…Wowww! Then my dreams can come true!" She cheered out.

Michael chuckled as you stood up.

“I think we impressed her.”

“You did.” You teased him with a wink, making him flush a little.

She yawned so loud that it interrupted the conversation altogether.

You both leaned down.

You kissed one cheek.

Michael kissed the other.

“Goodnight, Snugglebug.” You hummed out warmly.

“I’ll always be your Snugglebug?” She asked sleepily.

“Forever.”

“Even when I’m old?”

“Especially then.”

Kate giggled at that as you patted her cheek and pulled away.

Michael tucked the blanket tighter around her shoulders.

“Sweet dreams, Kate.” He told her.

“Good night, daddy…”

The room grew quiet.

Within moments, Kate had drifted asleep, dreaming of adventures.

Michael slipped his hand into yours as you both stood in the doorway watching your little girl breathe peacefully.

“So many questions already,” he whispered, laughing quietly.

You smiled, your gaze lingering on your daughter.

“One day she’ll find her own Neverland.”

Michael looked around the quiet ranch you three were moving into had begun filling with laughter, dreams, and children who would always know they belonged.

“I think…” he whispered with a small smile, “…I figured out a name for this place now.”

“What is it, Mikey?”

“Neverland.”

———————

Neverland Ranch, 2004.

The ranch had a rare, quiet time this evening.

It was one of those calm Thursday evenings where Neverland seemed to twinkle and shine a bit more in the golden sunshine. Outside, the last streaks of sunset painted the sky in soft oranges and violet blues.

Prince and Paris were curled up in the family room, watching reruns of Ducktales on the television—their giggles echoing through the halls, whilst baby Blanket had long since fallen asleep upstairs with one of his stuffed dinosaurs tucked in his arms.

An old record played on the vinyl player as you and Michael cleaned the kitchen together after a long evening cooking together. It crackled softly through the speakers, filling every empty corner of the home with something warm and familiar.

Married since 1987, the two of you were as happy—if not more than the day you met.

Seventeen years of marriage. Four beautiful children. A magical place to call home—Neverland. And most of all, living the best life with the man you love the most. What else could you ask for?

A life that had become quieter than either of you had imagined back when you were young, where the world just didn't seem to stop spinning.

Michael was older now. His hair was longer, his smile gentler than it had been when he was trying to woo you. His laughter came easier now. Fame had weathered him in ways no one outside your family could ever truly understand.

Yet when he smiled at you, teasing you like you two were still in your twenties—you still saw the same man you have fallen hopelessly in love with.

The grandfather clock ticked down the hallway as the crickets started singing outside. You were curled beside Michael on the sofa in your bedroom, sharing a blanket while reading one of his favorite novels.

But Michael wasn't reading at all, he was just pretending to. Mostly he had been stealing glances at you every few minutes.

He smiled slowly, "You know..." he murmured.

"—Yes? You hummed out in the middle of your reading.

"You're so beautiful today..." He teased, making you smile without looking up from your book.

"Only today?" You mused out.

"Today especially..." He said, planting kisses on your shoulder up to your neck, making you laugh.

"You said that yesterday, Mike."

"I meant that yesterday too." He said, biting his lower lip.

"You also said that everyday for the past 17 years..." You said, flipping through another chapter with a grin.

"I've always been right." Michael said, kissing your cheek.

You laughed brightly, "You still flirt like this with your wife? Even after 17 years?"

"Oh, especially now. I'm getting pretty good at it, aren't I?" He flirted, making you look up from your book and cover your face.

"Stop it, Mike..." You laughed out, cheeks warm. Despite your words, you both leaned in for a soft kiss.

Meanwhile, Kate sat in her room. Stuffed toys tucked away in boxes—if not given to her younger siblings, her old quilts replaced with new ones, and posters of different rock bands covered her walls. She blasted her music from her ipod, blaring in her ears.

She was terrified. For weeks she'd rehearsed what to say. Thinking about it for months. Every imaginary conversation she'd started in front of her bedroom mirror always ended with tears before she could even say the words aloud.

When she looked at herself in the mirror, she saw a mix of you, her mother, and Michael, her father. She couldn't bare to see your faces if you reacted negatively...

She sniffled, sobbing to herself, hugging her childhood stuffed rabbit. But she couldn't run away from this any further. It was consuming her.

She got up from her bed and walked slowly to your bedroom down the hall. She took a couple minutes before knocking once.

"Mom...? Dad...?" She called out, her voice already shaking.

"Yes, come in, Kate!" Your voice called out, muffled by the door. Kate let out a deep breath, opening the door. This was it.

You and Michael sat up straight from the sofa. She stood in the doorway, her hands shaking.

She's sixteen now, nearly as tall as Michael, but in Michael and yours' eyes...she looked exactly like she did when she was her 6 year old self again.

She looked like she'd been crying. Your hearts dropped immediately, you set your book aside and Michael pulled away the blanket from your laps.

"Baby?" Michael called out to Kate. She sniffled.

"Can I talk to you guys...?" She asked, her voice shaking. Your hearts broke at how hurt she looked.

"Always, come here honey..." Her father said encouragingly, patting the space in between you two for her to sit.

She hesitated when she walked forward, a look in her eyes that you never wanted to see—fear.

The smile on Michael's face softened the instant he heard the uncertainty in her voice.

"You won't get angry at me?"

For a moment, neither of you answered. Not because you didn't know what to say.

But because the question itself hurt.

It hurt that your daughter had spent even a second believing she had to ask permission to be honest. You reached toward her first.

"Oh, sweetheart..."

Your fingers wrapped gently around her trembling hand, feeling just how cold it had become.

"Come here."

Kate crossed the room slowly, as though every step weighed a hundred pounds. By the time she reached the couch, she was already crying again.

Michael immediately opened his arm, guiding her down between the two of you exactly the way he had when she was little and frightened after nightmares.

She folded into the space automatically.

Muscle memory.

Sixteen years old, nearly grown up to set on her journey out into the world—yet somehow she still fit perfectly between her mom and dad.

"I'm scared...you'll stop loving me..."

Michael rubbed slow circles against her back. "You could never make us stop loving you." he said quietly.

She squeezed her eyes shut. "I... I don't know..." She shook her head, shaking off her hesitation.

"The world..." she whispered, "...the world gets angry."

Neither of you interrupted, listening to her intently and patiently.

Kate swallowed hard. "I've seen the jokes..." Another tear escaped from her big brown eyes.

"I've heard people at school..." She sniffled. "They say people like me are disgusting... or wrong... or that God made a mistake..."

She couldn't continue. Her breathing broke apart before the words could.

You felt your own chest tighten. Michael's jaw subtly clenched.

Kate covered her face with both hands. "And... and then I thought..."

She laughed bitterly through tears.

"I thought... what if you think that too?"

Silence.

The grandfather clock ticked loudly down the hallway.

You and Michael swallowed thickly, unable to bear seeing your baby girl crying and in pain like this.

Kate took one shaky breath after another before finally whispering the words she'd been carrying alone for months.

"...Mommy..." She sobbed out, your eyes let out tears.

"...Daddy..." She cried out, making Michael clench his jaw, looking down, trying to be strong.

She couldn't even look at either of you.

"I..."

Everything she'd rehearsed disappeared. Her voice cracked.

"I'm..." Another sob escaped.

"...I like girls."

The room became impossibly still.

Kate immediately continued talking before either of you could answer.

Words tumbled over one another in panic.

"I'm sorry... I'm so sorry... I tried not to be... I prayed and cried and kept thinking maybe it'd go away because everybody says it's wrong and people keep making jokes and I kept thinking maybe if I ignored it then I'd be normal and maybe you'd still be proud of me and I know our family's already in the newspapers all the time and I didn't want to make things harder for you and Daddy, you guys already get hurt so much by people and I didn't want anyone saying more awful things about us because of me..."

Her shoulders shook violently.

"I'm sorry...I'm so sorry...I never wanted to disappoint you..."

She finally broke. Years of fear poured out all at once.

"I don't want you to send me away..."

Before another word could leave her mouth...you pulled her into your arms. Immediately. Without hesitation.

She gasped softly as your embrace wrapped completely around her. The same embrace she'd known since she was a wee baby.

You cradled the back of her head, rocking her gently.

Exactly the way you had after her first scraped knee.

Exactly the way you had after she got scared from the thunderstorms.

Exactly the way you had after she had bad dreams.

Exactly the way you had after she'd taken her very first steps, stumbled, and cried because the world suddenly felt much bigger than she'd expected.

Your hand smoothed through her hair.

"Oh, my baby..." You said with such tenderness.

Kate burst into even harder tears.

"No," you whispered, your own voice beginning to shake. "No, no, sweetheart... don't apologize for telling us who you are."

She clung tighter.

"But—"

"There is nothing," you said firmly, cupping her tear-streaked face between your hands until she finally looked at you, "absolutely nothing you could ever tell me that would make me stop being your mother."

Fresh tears rolled down her cheeks. You smiled through your own.

"When you were learning to walk, you came running toward me with your tiny little arms stretched out before falling flat onto the grass. Do you remember that?"

She laughed weakly through tears. "No...I was a baby, mom..."

"You don't," you chuckled softly. "But I do."

You brushed away another tear.

"When thunderstorms scared you, whose arms did you crawl into?"

"...Yours."

"When monsters lived under your bed?"

"...Yours."

"When someone at school hurt your feelings?"

"...Yours..."

"And every single time..." Your forehead rested against hers.

"...I held you." Your voice softened until it was barely above a whisper.

"And I'll keep holding you for the rest of my life."

She started crying again.

"I don't care who you love someday." You kissed her forehead.

"I don't care what your future looks like." Another kiss.

"I don't care whether you're sixteen..." You smiled.

"...or thirty..." You wiped her cheeks.

"...or fifty..." Kate sniffled.

"...or eighty." You laughed softly through tears.

"You will always be my Snugglebug."

Kate groaned immediately. "Moooom..."

"There she is." You grinned.

"I wondered how long it'd take before my dramatic teenager came back."

She hid her face against your shoulder, her voice muffled. "I'm sixteen..."

"And?"

"You can't call me Snugglebug anymore." She whined out.

"Oh?" You pretended to think.

"I distinctly remember promising someone..."

You glanced toward Michael. "...what was it again?"

Michael smiled, stating his daughter's words.

"That you'll always be our snugglebug. Even when you're old." You both nodded firmly at that. "Especially then." You said softly.

Kate's eyes widened.

"You remembered?"

Michael laughed quietly.

"Sweetheart..." He reached over, taking one of her hands, warming her clammy hands. "We remember everything."

Kate stared at him.

Michael had been quiet the entire time.

Not because he was upset, but because he was thinking—trying to choose every word carefully. He squeezed her hand gently.

"You know..." he began softly, "...your old man grew up in a very different world."

Kate listened.

"There are going to be things I don't fully understand right away." He smiled honestly. "And I don't want to pretend I already know everything..."

She watched him carefully.

"I probably have questions." He laughed. "A lot of questions."

She managed a tiny smile.

"I might even say the wrong thing sometimes." He muttered.

"You won't—"

"I might." He smiled gently. "And if I do..."

He squeezed her hand again. "...I hope you'll teach me."

Kate blinked, her tears appearing in her eyes again.

"Because learning about my daughter isn't a burden." Michael's dark eyes became glassy.

"It's a privilege."

He looked at her with the exact same tenderness he'd worn the first time he'd held her in the hospital sixteen years earlier.

"The easiest thing I've ever done was love you."

He smiled through his tears, his voice cracking.

"I loved you when you were still in your mom's tummy. I loved you when we first heard your heartbeat in the ultrasound. I loved you before you spoke your first word. I loved you before you took your first step."

"And nothing—absolutely nothing you told me tonight changes any of that." He leaned forward, kissing the top of her head.

"It just means I get to keep learning who my little girl is."

Kate finally smiled. A real one. The first one she'd managed all evening as tears ran down her face.

Michael suddenly frowned.

"...Now." His voice became dramatically serious as he wiped his tears.

"If anybody thinks they get to hurt my daughter..." His eyes narrowed.

"...they're going to have serious consequences."

Kate blinked. "Dad—"

"I'm just saying." He crossed his arms. "Your daddy knows karate."

You looked at him, raising an eyebrow and smiling. "...Mike."

"I know....some karate."

"You're an honorary black belt."

"I know enough."

"You watched one Bruce Lee movie."

"I watched several."

You smacked his arm lightly.

He gasped dramatically.

"See?"

He pointed at you.

"Violence already. That's why you need your dad to protect you."

Kate laughed. Actually laughed. A bright, genuine laugh that echoed through the bedroom.

"Oh my gosh..." She buried her face in her hands.

"You guys are so embarrassing...." She groaned out.

"But you're smiling." you teased.

"...Mom..." She grumbled.

"C'mon, snugglebug, let your mom and dad see that smile." Michael teased alongside with you.

Kate groaned, her hands pulling away from her face to reveal a barely held back grin. You both cooed and squeezed her cheeks, making her embarrassed and laugh.

She finally felt all her worries fly away.

———————

Friday mornings at Neverland always arrived gently.

There was never an alarm loud enough to disturb the peace of the ranch. Instead, mornings drifted in through open windows with birdsong, sunlight filtering through the curtains, and the faint whistle of the miniature train beginning its first slow trip around the property. The scent of dew still clung to the gardens outside, and somewhere beyond the bedroom windows, peacocks called to one another while leaves rustled lazily in the warm California breeze.

Kate stirred beneath her blankets.

For the first time in what felt like forever...

She didn't wake up with a knot in her stomach.

There was no rehearsed conversation waiting for her the moment she opened her eyes. No dread. No wondering if she'd ruined everything the night before. No fear that she'd come downstairs to awkward silence or careful glances.

Instead...

She felt warm.

Safe.

The kind of safety that settled deep into your bones.

She lay there for another minute, simply listening.

The familiar sounds of home floated upstairs.

Someone giggled.

A cupboard closed downstairs.

The old record player had already been switched on, filling the house with soft classival music crackling through the speakers.

And then...

The unmistakable sizzle of pancake batter hitting a hot skillet.

Kate smiled before she even realized she was doing it.

Friday.

Of course.

Every Friday since she could remember had started exactly the same way.

Her parents made pancakes together.

No matter how busy Michael had been yesterday.

No matter how exhausting recording sessions became.

No matter how chaotic life outside the gates of Neverland grew.

Friday mornings belonged to the family.

Always.

Kate threw on one of her oversized sweaters before wandering downstairs barefoot, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

The house glowed beneath the soft morning sunlight.

Family photographs lined the hallway—vacations, birthdays, Christmas mornings, messy baking afternoons, amusement park rides, countless candid moments where Michael had insisted on taking pictures because, as he always said, "The little moments become the big memories."

She slowed for just a second, smiling at one particular photograph.

She couldn't have been older than six.

She was sitting on Michael's shoulders while you stood beside them both laughing so hard your eyes had closed as you held her chubby little hand.

Her chest warmed.

Nothing had changed.

She stepped into the kitchen.

Exactly as she'd expected...

You stood at the stove humming softly to the record playing in the next room. You had stolen one of Michael's button-up shirts again sometime during the night.

The sleeves rolled up several times, the hem brushing against your thighs as you effortlessly flipped another pancake into the air before catching it perfectly. A streak of flour decorated your cheek. There was a tiny smear of batter on your wrist.

You hadn't noticed either. Michael certainly had. He noticed everything about you.

Except...

At the moment...

His attention had been completely stolen by the family laptop sitting on the kitchen table.

Kate had never seen someone look so personally offended by technology.

Michael leaned closer to the screen with narrowed eyes, one finger thoughtfully resting against his lips.

His reading glasses had slipped halfway down his nose.

He clicked something.

Nothing happened.

He clicked it again.

Still nothing.

"...Michael."

You didn't even turn around from the stove.

"Hm?"

"The mouse isn't broken."

"It feels broken."

"It isn't."

"It isn't listening to me."

You smiled to yourself.

"It's a computer, sweetheart."

"It knows I'm frustrated."

Kate bit back a laugh as she quietly leaned against the doorway, choosing not to announce herself just yet.

Michael sighed dramatically.

"I'm convinced it does these things on purpose."

"It?"

"The internet."

"The internet is not bullying you."

"You don't know that."

He finally clicked something successfully.

His eyes brightened triumphantly.

"Aha!"

Before anyone could celebrate...

A large box suddenly appeared in the middle of the screen.

Michael frowned.

"...Oh."

You glanced over your shoulder.

"What?"

"It says..."

He adjusted his glasses.

"'Accept Cookies.'"

You blinked.

"...Cookies?"

Michael nodded slowly.

"I don't remember ordering any."

You walked over, wooden spatula still in your hand.

"I didn't bake cookies."

"...Neither did I."

The two of you stared at the screen together as though it had personally betrayed you.

You tilted your head.

"...Do you think it's asking politely?"

Michael considered that with complete sincerity.

"...That would actually be very respectful."

Kate couldn't hold it together anymore.

A laugh escaped her.

Both of you looked over simultaneously.

"There she is!" you beamed.

"Morning, sweetheart."

Michael smiled immediately.

"Morning, baby."

Before Kate could answer—

"...Cookies?"

Prince's voice echoed from somewhere down the hallway.

Kate winced.

Too late.

Paris appeared around the corner almost instantly.

"What kind of cookies?"

Little Blanket toddled in behind them wearing dinosaur pajamas, clutching his stuffed triceratops beneath one arm.

"...Cookie?"

You and Michael looked at each other in complete panic.

Michael snapped the laptop halfway shut.

"No cookies."

You nodded far too enthusiastically.

"Nope!"

Prince frowned suspiciously. "...Then why'd Dad say cookies?"

"They're..."

Michael looked helplessly toward you, you shook your head, not knowing what to say either.

"...Computer cookies." He said, unsure.

Paris gasped.

"The computer eats cookies? Why can't we eat cookies if the computer can?"

"No!" You both said in unison. You smiled, panicked. "The computer can't eat cookies..."

Blanket looked absolutely heartbroken. "...Poor computer..."

You gently pinched the bridge of your nose.

"No, sweetheart."

"There aren't actually any cookies." Michael sighed out.

Three tiny disappointed sighs filled the kitchen.

Kate burst into laughter. Not polite laughter that she did a few nights ago.

Real laughter. The kind that doubled her over.

She really looked like you and Michael when she was smiling big like that.

Michael smiled quietly to himself.

Mission accomplished.

You noticed it immediately.

The way her laugh sounded lighter.

Freer.

Like someone had finally set down a weight they'd been carrying for far too long.

Without saying a word, you reached over and gently squeezed Michael's shoulder. He understood exactly why.

After breakfast was safely rescued from another cookie-related catastrophe, Michael slowly pushed the laptop away with theatrical defeat.

"...I surrender."

You laughed.

"I told you books were easier."

"They don't ask confusing questions."

"They also don't tempt children with imaginary desserts."

"Exactly."

Within minutes, the kitchen table transformed into something between a library and a classroom. Books lay open everywhere. Titles about understanding teenagers. Books about empathy.

Communication.

Supporting children.

Listening before speaking.

Growing alongside your children instead of ahead of them.

Kate noticed something that made her throat tighten, every single one had pages folded carefully. Sticky notes peeked from nearly every chapter.

Beside Michael sat an entire yellow notebook.

His handwriting filled page after page.

Questions.

Definitions.

Ideas.

Thoughts.

"Listen first."

"Don't assume."

"Ask Kate what language makes her comfortable."

"Love louder than fear."

"Keep learning."

One sentence had been circled three separate times.

"My daughter deserves parents willing to grow with her."

Kate stared at the page.

"You..." Her voice came out much smaller than she'd intended. "...You really wrote all this?"

Michael looked up as though the answer was obvious. "Of course."

Kate laughed through the tears threatening her eyes. "You guys are unbelievable."

"We're your parents." You shrugged. "It's in the job description." you said, planting a kiss on Kate's cheek, making her groan.

Michael closed the notebook. "I told you last night."

He reached across the table, gently taking her hand. "I don't have to understand everything immediately."

"But..." He smiled with quiet certainty.

"I'll spend the rest of my life trying."

Kate squeezed his hand, unable to speak.

They then both pulled away with smiles, Kate then grabbed her breakfast.

Somewhere in the silence that followed, your eyes wandered toward your husband. A tiny streak of flour still rested across his cheek.

You giggled.

"What?" He smiled at the sound of your laugh.

"You've got..." You reached up, brushing it away with your thumb.

"There."

Michael smiled.

"You know..." He leaned closer.

"...you're awfully pretty this morning, honey."

You rolled your eyes playfully. "You said that yesterday."

"I still meant it yesterday."

"You said it the day before that too."

"I was right then, too."

You laughed. "What am I going to do with you?"

"I've got a few ideas."

You lightly smacked his arm with a dish towel. "Michael."

"What?"

"I'm flirting with my wife."

"In front of the children."

"They should know romance exists."

You leaned down anyway. "You are impossible."

"But kissable."

"Oh, definitely kissable." You kissed him once.

Then again.

Then one more time because seventeen years later neither of you had learned how to stop at one.

"Ewwww!" Kate groaned dramatically.

"You guys are ruining my lifeee."

Michael looked at her with complete innocence.

"We've been ruining your life since 1988."

"I'm serious!" She pointed accusingly. "I'm moving to another country."

You nodded thoughtfully. "We'll help you pack."

"I'm changing my name." She said, angrily chewing.

Michael grinned. "We'll still know where you live."

"I'm never calling either of you again." She said, grabbing another pancake.

You smiled sweetly. "That's alright. We can write letters!"

"You guys are ancient..." She groaned dramatically as you both laughed.

Michael folded his arms proudly. "You'll probably be just like us one day."

Kate blinked. "...Absolutely not."

You raised an eyebrow. "No?"

"No!

"Not even with your future wife?" You teased.

Kate froze.

"Mom."

"What?"

"...Mom."

Michael couldn't help smiling. "I think she's blushing."

"I am not!"

"You absolutely are."

"Do you have a girl in mind already?" You asked, smiling softly.

"What's her name?" Michael asked with a grin.

Kate threw both hands into the air. "That's it. I'm leaving."

You simply reached over and affectionately ruffled her hair.

"Whatever you say, Snugglebug."

Three little heads immediately turned.

Prince frowned.

"...Who's Snugglebug?"

Paris looked between everyone.

"...Is it a pet?"

Blanket pointed directly at Kate, elated.

"...Snugglebug!"

Kate gasped. "No!" She turned to you both. "See what you've done?!"

Prince grinned mischievously.

"Hi, Snugglebug."

Paris immediately joined in.

"Morning, Snugglebug!"

Blanket giggled.

"...Snugglebug!"

Kate buried her face in her hands.

"I have been betrayed by my own family...I have no family."

Laughter exploded around the kitchen.

It bounced off the walls.

Filled every corner of the room.

The kind of laughter that only happened when everyone felt completely at home.

———————

After breakfast, while the dishes soaked in warm water and Michael insisted he was "absolutely helping you" despite mostly drying the same plate for five straight minutes, Prince wandered into the family room.

The bookshelves stretched from floor to ceiling, filled with everything from fairy tales to history books, music biographies, poetry collections, and worn storybooks that had been read so many times their spines had softened with age.

Prince stood on his tiptoes, running a finger along the shelf.

"Hey..."

He carefully pulled out an old green book.

Dust floated lazily through the sunlight as it came free.

"Dad?"

Michael looked over.

His entire expression softened.

"...Well, look at that."

You turned around. Your hand immediately flew to your heart. "Oh, that was your big sister's favorite book..."

Kate froze. She knew that book.

The faded green cover.

The worn gold lettering.

The little crease in one corner where she'd accidentally bent it years ago.

Michael's old copy of Peter Pan.

The one he'd read to her so often that she could practically recite every page from memory.

Paris hugged it to her chest.

"Katie..."

She looked up with the same enormous hopeful eyes Kate herself had once used.

"...Will you read it to us?"

Blanket held his dinosaur tighter.

"...Please?"

Prince nodded enthusiastically.

"With voices!"

Kate laughed softly.

"You want the voices?"

The three nodded enthusiastically.

Kate looked down at the book resting in her hands.

Then toward her parents.

Neither of them said a word.

They only smiled.

She smiled back.

"Alright."

She settled onto the big window seat overlooking the gardens, sunlight wrapping around her like a blanket.

She patted the cushions beside her.

"C'mon, you three."

The three younger siblings climbed up immediately.

Prince leaned against one shoulder.

Paris curled beneath the other.

Blanket climbed directly into her lap with his dinosaur tucked safely beneath one arm.

Exactly the way she used to in the middle of you and Michael.

Kate opened the book.

She didn't look at the pages.

She didn't need to.

Instead...

She smiled.

"There once was a boy..."

Her voice became softer.

"...who never wanted to grow up."

Three pairs of eyes immediately widened.

"And because he never wanted to grow up..."

She glanced out the window toward the ranch beyond.

"...he found a wonderful place called Neverland."

Prince leaned forward. "...A real place?"

Kate smiled. "The realest place there is."

Paris tilted her head. "Really?"

"Oh, yes." Kate nodded gently. "It just doesn't always look the way people expect."

She remembered every word.

Every pause.

Every smile.

"Sometimes Neverland isn't just somewhere you fly to."

She looked at each of them.

"Sometimes it's wherever people make you feel safe enough to be yourself."

"Where you're loved."

"...Accepted."

"...Protected."

Paris' smile fell slightly.

"What if somebody's different?"

Kate didn't hesitate.

"Then Neverland welcomes them even more."

The younger three smiled.

"Everyone belongs there. Especially people who are different."

"Dinosaur?" Blanket asked, holding up his toy as Kate laughed softly.

She nodded. "Especially dinosaurs." Blanket beamed at that.

The words settled softly between them.

Prince looked thoughtful. "So..." He frowned. "...Neverland isn't real."

Paris nodded sadly. "It'd be nice if it was."

Blanket hugged his dinosaur. "...Mm."

Kate looked at them for a long moment.

Then she smiled. "No."

The three looked back up.

"It is real."

They blinked.

Kate looked around the room.

At the sunlight pouring through the windows.

At family photographs.

At the sound of your laughter drifting in from the kitchen.

At Michael quietly humming while drying dishes.

At home.

"It always has been."

Prince looked confused. "...Where is it?"

Kate laughed softly. "We're already here."

Silence.

Three tiny faces stared at her as they started realizing how safe, loved, protected, and most of all—accepted they felt.

Then—

"...Wow." Paris whispered.

Prince's eyes grew even wider. "...Wowww."

Blanket threw both hands into the air. "...WOWWW!"

"We live in Neverland!" Prince shouted.

"We really do!" Paris squealed.

Blanket bounced excitedly in Kate's lap. "Neverland!"

The three of them erupted into excited cheers, racing around the room pretending to fly with their arms stretched wide.

Kate laughed so hard her sides hurt before joining them, spinning with her siblings as all four children dissolved into delighted giggles.

Across the room, you and Michael had long since stopped pretending to dry dishes.

The towel rested forgotten over Michael's shoulder.

Your hand had quietly slipped into his.

Neither of you spoke.

Neither of you could.

Your eyes shimmered as you watched your eldest daughter—the little girl who had once needed reassurance that Neverland welcomed everyone—now passing that same reassurance to her younger siblings with all the tenderness you had once given her.

She wasn't repeating yours or Michael's words anymore.

She had made them her own.

Michael felt his throat tighten.

He watched Kate throw her head back in laughter as Prince insisted he was Peter Pan, Paris declared herself Tinker Bell, and Blanket proudly announced that dinosaurs were definitely allowed in Neverland as Kate acted as Captain Hook, making Prince and Paris make up a journey where they needed to save Blanket.

Your thumb brushed gently across the back of Michael's hand. He squeezed yours instinctively.

Without looking away from your children, he whispered so quietly only you could hear,

"...She's finally believed in Neverland."

A tear slipped down your cheek.

You smiled through it.

You leaned your head gently against his shoulder.

"Oh Mike...can't they just stay like this forever since we're in Neverland?" You cried out quietly, covering your eyes.

He just laughed softly, crying as well as he kissed you gently. "Let's just treasure it, mama..."

The four children continued laughing together, their voices filling every room of the house with something brighter than sunlight.

And as Michael wrapped an arm around your waist, the two of you stood together in silence, realizing that all those years ago, when you had tucked one frightened little girl into bed and promised her that Neverland was real...she was now sharing on her dreams to her siblings.

And dreams really do come true.

.

.

.

“You don’t think it might be a bit late to be watchin’ our videos, Michael?” Your voice was light, barely loud enough for him to hear you over the music. You agreed to Michael that you would spend a little more intimate time with him after you’d been so preoccupied with the kids and their extracurricular activities.

Tiana in music club, Brandon in basketball, Junior preparing for football season, Mari going into Space Camp, and finally, Jasmine going into cheerleading. It’s been a lot more than you could handle, and Michael wanted so badly to be more present, but he had to be out on the road for press tours and charity events. He promised that it was all for you and his babies; he clearly wanted to make it up to you. You gave Michael the creative freedom to plan what you two would be doing tonight, but you might be regretting it.

“I don’t think it’s ever too late, Mrs. Jackson. It could be the break of dawn, and I wouldn’t ever get tired of seein’ you.” Michael smirked at you after briskly pressing play on the remote. The beginning of the song- those familiar chords initiated. That alluring voice of yours from your youth lifted above the melody:

“There’s something I have to say to you. If you promise you’ll understand. I cannot contain myself when I’m in your presence. I’m so humble. Just touch me. Don’t hide our love. Woman to man.”

Your hands shot up to cover your face in embarrassment after listening to your own declaration of desire for him. Your cheeks burned into a pink hue, blushing adorably. A playful chortle slipped from his lips, high-pitched and soft. Weightless as always, but always affected you. His large and soft palms raised up to your delicate hands, pulling them down gently from your face, uncovering a hesitant smile that was smeared across your face. When he saw your face once again, he was met with your unsuccessful attempt at stopping a smile before it stretched across your lips.

“Why you coverin’ your face from me, Mama? Come on… You promised you’d watch this with me…” He giggled at your bashful reaction to your unapologetic yearning in the song. That same declaration you gave him behind closed doors all those years ago. You grew up so much from that point in time, becoming a little reserved in your older age. Times like these made you wish you were young and free again. When you could be as open with your feelings of intimacy as you wanted, people would just call it growing pains. Now, you had to set those feelings aside in order to put your family first.

“‘Cause, Michael… It’s embarrassin’. I don’t want to be reminded of our dirty dancin’ from when I was…God, I couldn’t be more than twenty-one.” You released a breathy chuckle, your eyes focusing on your image on the video. Those lines of yours were…perfect. When Michael stood up from the bed, you watched him intently.

“Michael? Where you goin’, huh?” Your eyes never left his body as he elegantly graced your bedroom. As he walked, you noticed that silk press sway in the air; you had to sit back and just admire him. He opened up the double doors of the walk-in closet, wandering inside and fiddling with the contents inside. “Hold on, baby. I’ll be right back. Just wait and watch how pretty you look on the screen.”

“Oh, c’mon Michael. I don’t wanna be reminded of how tight and fit I was… now I’m-..” You watched yourself on the screen just as Michael asked. You spoke back to him, not feeling the best about seeing your young self on the screen, but your husband stopped you promptly. Before you could say anything remotely negative about yourself.

Once your husband finally emerged from that huge closet, his hands were glued behind his back. “Now, you just stop right there. That woman up there… this woman in front of me is my wife. You are still incredibly irresistible. I know I can’t resist ya.” You could hear the sound of metal clashing, almost like the sound of chains. A mischievous grin was plastered across his face, that cheeky closed-mouth smile where his teeth were begging to be showcased. But he managed to hold back. He noticed that nervous look on your face upon hearing those chains. “You heard that didn’t you, mama? It’s okay, you don’t gotta be scared…”

“Whatchu got behind your back, Michael?”

“It’s okay… just relax… Just wanna try somethin’ I saw on uh… HBO.”

You laughed, throwing your head back in surprise at his answer. He dropped his shoulders and rolled his eyes at you. You could tell he was growing a bit frustrated at you not taking him seriously as he was taking this. You always did play too much when it was just you and him. Made you feel like a girl again.

“Real mature, baby…”

Your hands slid down to your stomach, grabbing at your sides, feeling them splitting because you knew exactly what he’d been watching in his free time.

“HBO, Michael? You been sneak watchin’ ‘Real Sex,’ haven’t ya? I thought I put a block on that channel.”

“Maybe you ain’t blocked it good enough... but there’s some good stuff on there… I just wanna show you somethin’. Just take me serious. Promise you won’t regret it…”

Michael got closer to you; his hands still glued to his back, he leaned down and planted a gentle kiss on your forehead. That gentle sound of metal clashing against each other caught your attention once again, but you, nonetheless, leaned into Michael’s sweet kiss.

“Mm-… fine. Just because we old now don’t mean we gotta be all serious all the time, bae. But you not gonna tell me what you got behind your back?” You probed once again, and your husband shook his head, waving that silk press from side-to-side. A gentle chuckle escaped his lips upon seeing how curious you were. “Go ahead and close your eyes. Go ahead. And no peeking! I can tell when you are. I’ll do better than tell ya… I’ll show ya.”

You reluctantly closed your eyes, squeezing them tight. There was no use in arguing with him; you were just going to give in anyway. He had that talent to him; there was no such thing as rejecting Michael. He was so alluring that you had the damnedest time saying “NO”.

Once Michael saw that your eyes were closed securely, he crept closer to you, gently pushing you down on the bed. His fingertips brushed against your chest, slowly pushing you down. Your body carefully rolled back onto the plush mattress, a few giggles escaping from your lips as you felt Michael pushing you down.

You felt his large hands gripping onto your wrists, pulling you up closer to the grand headboard he had custom-made. Michael’s hands were soon replaced with the cool steel of handcuffs, his hands clasped onto your wrists, making sure the cuffs were on good and tight. Your eyes instantly flew open upon feelin’ that cold metal wrapped around your flesh. “Mi-…Michael! I know you didn’t-…”

Your mouth flew open, knowing it was a wrap. This was Michael’s fantasy. Him having his way with you, not the other way around as it had been for the past twenty years.

“I did… C’mon, you won’t regret it. I’ll make it feel so good f’ you. Just relax, okay?”

“Okay, Michael, fine. What’s our safe word this time, huh?”

“Let’s make it… PYT. You got that?” You gave your husband a silent confirmation, nodding lightly at his safe word he had set for you both. You finally looked above your head, seeing your hands clasped together. You were completely vulnerable; not only that, but nervous. You hadn’t been in a position like this since trying for your first child with you and Michael on your honeymoon. Over twenty years ago. Right now, Michael was lovin’ every bit of it; seeing you practically under his mercy, it was a breath of fresh air. Something new and unfamiliar. He wanted to get as familiar as possible.

“You look perfect, y’know? Just like that… so maturely beautiful. It’s makin’ me real excited.”

“Mm-… stop it, Michael.” You could tell Michael still had something hidden behind him, resting on the nightstand. His body stayed in front of the nightstand, doing a horrible job of concealing the large family-size bottle of low-fat Cool Whip that you were able to catch in the corner of your eye. Your eyes flickered over to Michael as he reached for the remote that rested on the nightstand, rewinding the video once again of In The Closet. You playfully rolled your eyes as Michael came close to you, nervously chuckling as he invaded your space. His fingertips fiddled over the hem of your muu-muu, gently pulling it up over your thighs. The cool air started to hit the warm meeting of your thighs; a slight hiss escaped your lips as you raised your legs upon feeling the air.

“Now, just watch us on the TV. And relax. Don’t we look s’ good together?”

“I-… at least I know I do.” You teased. Michael laughed and threw his head back, playfully nudging at your shoulder.

Michael’s hand sauntered itself up your body. Allowing his elegant fingertips to trace against the fabric of your nightgown, getting the excuse to feel over your mature curves. Your beautiful, evolved, and curvy matured body Michael so desperately wanted to lay eyes on. His hand found its way up to your face; his warm palm rested under your jaw, holding it so you would look closely at the video. Michael crouched down beside the bed, whispering against the side of your neck.

“You got me in so much trouble behind the scenes that day. You remember? Gave me such a hard-on on the set. Had to re-shoot three times… God, I was so embarrassed. You were so bad.” His voice deepened, vibrating against your skin. His warm breath made you twist your neck in his direction, feeling that familiar tingling sensation between your legs.

You two, dancing so close, a deep and breathy chuckle escaped Michael’s lips as he reminisced. He turned his head towards the TV, watching the video, focusin’ on your grinding, those hips of yours bucking into Michael’s. You remember that day like it was yesterday… him meeting you after the filming, cornering you and not letting you leave until he got a kiss on the cheek from you. He was so shy. It was adorable.

You chuckled at Michael’s honesty as you stared at the tv, thinking about those sexy, although tense days on the set. How sexually frustrated you both were. How bad you needed each other. “I remember… I-uh… went back to my room…thought about how close we were dancing. Feelin’ you through those slacks you were wearin’… touching myself to you that whole night… came three times. All to you, Michael.” You admitted, muttering out of the side of your mouth. Michael released another deep and breathy chuckle as he stared at the TV, mouthing his lyrics as he listened to you recalling your own side of the story.

“Oh yeah? You did, huh? I’ll bet all those memories of you climaxin’ to me are coming right back to you, aren’t they?”

“I hate to admit it, but… mhm. gettin’ real turned on watchin this. They don’t make videos like this anymore…”

Michael let go of your jaw, seeing as you didn’t need help anymore to stare at the video anymore; you seemed to not get enough of watching. You didn’t dare look away, not wanting to miss anything. While you were distracted, Michael’s fingers pulled the hem of your nightgown back up, allowing the hem to rest against your stomach. Michael stared at your thick and warm thighs; your golden brown skin shone in his big brown Bambi eyes. His fingertips traced around the outline of your slit, resting in your black lace panties.

“She wants to give it, yeah…. she wants to give it…” Michael playfully sang along with the video to you, keeping his middle and index finger focused on your crotch, teasingly caressing your puffy pussy. “Spread your legs a bit more… more… more… that’s good, mama. That’s good..” He coached to you, watching you move your thighs a bit wider outward.

His hands started to trail towards the side of your panties; his fingertips pulled them to the side, looking down at the sticky mess. The material of your panties stuck to the wetness of your pussy lips, and Michael took notice. He giggled and peeked down at the mess in between your legs. The aching between your legs grew harder and harder to ignore. This caused you to yank at the handcuffs, desperately needing to take care of your sexual frustration.

“D-Damn it, Michael… It’s not funny..”

“Aw, you’re so wet. Look atchu… Who’s laughin’ now? Hm? Not so funny anymore, is it?” He giggled as he let go of the side of your panties, allowing you to just seethe in your sexual frustration. Your clit started to ache, feeling your heartbeat in between your legs. Your eyes fluttered shut, and you turned away from the TV, squeezing your legs tightly together, trying to remove the pressure from your frustration.

“Ah-Ah! Keep watchin’ the video. Don’t stop. Or I really won’t take care of you. You hear?”

“Yes, Michael. I’m watchin’… promise..” Your eyes fluttered back over to the TV; your husband followed your eyes closely, making sure you were focusing. “See? I’m watchin’..” He nodded at you and stood up straight once again, sauntering back towards the nightstand, slowly pulling the Cool Whip off of the flat surface.

“You know why I’m makin’ you watch our video? You know what today is, mama?”

“I really haven’t the slightest idea, Michael… what is it?” His lips curled into a smirk; his eyes paid close attention to your own eyes staring deeply at the In The Closet video. He wanted to make sure you were keepin’ your promise. “You get one guess… get the guess wrong… I’ll give you a little pop on your cookie… you understand?” You nervously chuckled once again; Michael popped you a little on your thigh, feeling them tense up close again.

“I-Is it… did I forget one of your brother’s birthdays? Oh shit, It’s Marlon’s birthday, isn’t it?”

“mm-mm.” Michael hummed, his voice vibrating at the back of his throat. Unexpectedly, you were served a swift pop on your puffy cookie; Michael’s firm hand gave you a gentle strike, leaning in and gifting you a slow kiss on your forehead. Soothing the pain of the pop, allowing the kiss to linger. “Wrong… It’s the anniversary of our video, silly… exactly twenty years ago today, we premiered it…”

“Ah-… God… dammit, I’m sorry, Mike. Please just-… take it easy…” You hissed. Although, that pop excited you. Just a bit.

“Should I…? Keep your eyes on the TV, please?” Michael snapped his fingers, making you stare back at the TV, the part in the video where you were constantly stroking your body, gyrating, all while Michael danced beside you, singing his heart out in the song. When you turned your attention back to the TV once more, Michael slowly pulled your tight, sticky panties off of your body, for a brief moment getting stuck at your juicy thighs.

He had to push your legs closed to get them completely off. Once your panties were gone, thrown across the room, he adjusted himself, slinking down onto the bed, lying in between your legs. He was finally met with your pretty pussy, in the flesh. His cheeks grew a bit flushed upon feeling the warmth from her hitting his face. You were incredibly needy, getting used to this domineering version of Michael. He leaned into your thighs, planting fluttering kisses against your sensitive flesh. His eyes closed as his large hands found themselves gripping on your thighs, holding them tightly. All so he could get that easy access to please you.

“Come on, Michael… We too grown for these teasin’ games.. Just-… Just taste it…”

“Never too old for foreplay. It builds tension… You should know that better than anyone… all that tension is how we got five kids, isn’t it?” You gave Michael a nod and smile, keeping your eyes on the TV as you promised, feeling those warm kisses your husband was planting. The kisses started to move closer, further to your crotch. His kisses finally made their way to your dripping cunt. A relieved sigh escaped from the depths of your soul. You needed this. Badly. His kisses grew deeper, planting open-mouth kisses against your clit. He could feel your clit twitching against his lip as he kissed it.

“Mm… after all these years… she still behaves so good.” After the third kiss, you could feel the tip of his tongue teasing the head of your clit, circling your love button. He pushed his face deeper against your slit, inhaling your sexy pheromones that turned him on so much. Suddenly, he pulled away from your pussy, grabbing the cold Cool Whip from the side of the bed, shaking it up. Michael swiftly opened up the top, spurting some of the whipped cream over your clit, watching his dessert, salivating.

He was so ready to taste you, even now with this whipped cream on you. You would whine, feeling that cold cream hit your pussy. He opened his mouth, flicking his thick tongue over your aching button, wiping that sugary dessert off your private parts. His lips clung to your clit, sucking in your pink flesh, keeping those large warm hands on either side of your thigh, caressing them slowly.

You would spread your legs out of instinct, still not looking away from your music video of you and Michael. You wanted to run your fingers through his hair so bad, coach him, and show him how good he was doing. But it was no use. You yanked at the handcuffs; they didn’t budge not one bit. You groaned in frustration at not being able to touch him, but he was doing so damn good. His tongue circled your throbbing love button again while it was still sucked in between his lips.

“Ah-.. Mi-… Damn, Michael…” You sucked air in between your teeth before hearing your clit pop out of Michael’s mouth. His tongue trailed itself down to your slit, lapping up any sweet wetness you were still producing as he ate you. He started to hum along with the music, adding vibrations to you being eaten, sending those vibrations up your spine. “Mm-hmm…” His tongue flattened itself, making sure to collect all of your delicious nectar. His thick tongue started to thrust itself in…. then out… in…out of your pussy.

He was able to really taste you better that way. The large bulge that was sitting in his pajama pants was crazy. He couldn’t help but push his hand down between his legs, occasionally stroking at his length. He emitted a low groan, feeling pre-cum leaking out of his tip from the friction he dealt to himself. He couldn’t focus on himself right now, though, only you.

“I wish you could feel me right now… Your cookie tastes so good….I could do this all day… roll those hips on my tongue… use me.” You didn’t need to be told twice; those hips started to roll, quickly. His tongue stuck open wide, extending his head up and down over your slit, moving his tongue deeper inside your pussy lips. His index and middle fingers found themselves rubbing steadily over your clit, keeping a steady pace. He kept his tongue flattened, widening it to fill you more. He let out deep groans, his warm breath warming up your entire body. Michael’s free hand was stroking himself as he pleased you, thrusting and rolling his hips unapologetically into his hand. No longer shy to show how primal you made him feel.

You tugged at the handcuffs, wanting so much more than to just pinch and roll your nipples in between your fingers, but you were quickly snapped out of that reality once again. You didn’t want to use the safe word, though. Not wanting this to end. His thick fingers focused on your pretty clitoris, making you arch your back, rest your feet down on the bed, and bend your legs. Michael moved his fingers from your clit, finally pulling away from your dripping hole, spitting your own wetness back onto her.

His index and middle finger slowly traced over your slit, seeing how your body was reacting. “Mm-… take ‘em… show me how bad you wanted this-… Still look so pretty takin’ it…” Michael uttered under his breath as he grabbed the Cool Whip that rested beside you, pushing his forefinger deep inside your pussy, thrusting it deep. Allowing you to feel that familiar pressure you’ve been hungry for. His free hand spurted whipped cream over your breasts, covering your nipples in the cold, weightless, non-fat cream.

He gradually lapped up the white cream; every once in a while, you could feel the tip of his warm tongue hitting the very tip of your protruding nipples, showcasing just how turned on you were. All while those fingers of his were pumping in and out. That lewd sticky sound filled the room. You couldn’t even watch the video at this point, getting cross-eyed from how good this felt. “S’ fuckin’… G-…”

“Oh… I thought we were old now? We too old to use our words?” Michael teased, keeping a steady thrust of his finger. He started to come up close to you, kneeling in between your legs. He sat on his knees, pushing his pants down, just below his heavy package. Michael slapped his thick, warm meat square against your pussy, peeking up at you from between his lashes.

“Just… the tip. Okay?” You gave Michael a silent confirmation, nodding as he insisted on just pushing that tip of his in and out. He angled himself to slide his thick tip in and out of your needy oussy. Each time he slid all the way out, a slight ‘pop’ from your wetness filled the room. “Missed this… Missed you…” He murmured, beginning to thrust just his tip more; he collected soliva in his mouth, puckering his lips, spitting out onto your cunt. His main three fingers went back to keeping a tight and focused circle around the area above your clit as he pushed his tip inside you, needing you to release.

“Come on…cum on me… make a mess… better yet, cum to our video, pretty baby. That pretty cookie feels so g-good…”

“H-Here… She’s…ah-…” You purred, yanking erratically at the handcuffs, losing control of your body at this point. Your back seized on you from tensing it for too long, and you gasped deeply at feeling another sensation. “Oh, Mama… I’m about to… to-… Ah-.. Ah-.. Charley H-Horse!” Michael threw his head back, giving you one last thrust before he pulled out of your addicting pussy, ejaculating all over the outside of your plump lips.

Your husband made sure to stroke every little bit of cum he had inside of him, pulling all of it out to the surface. He groaned deeply, chuckling in embarrassment of his old legs givin’ up on him. He still coated your pretty cookie with his own cream, painting you and spreading his sexy mess all over your slit. “Mama-… mmm… I love you s’ much… S-.. Sorry for crampin’ on ya~..”

“I love you too… I really do… That was so good, Michael. You want me to massage it, baby love?”

“That sounds great… it’s still s-sore…” Michael hissed between his teeth, still trying to self soothe his leg. Feeling his muscles twist in knots.

Michael leaned up to plant a deep kiss against your lips, giggling against you, still embarrassed of his sudden cramping up. “we needed that… dealin’ with all them damn kids…”

“Hey! You wanted them kids, don’t deny it.”

You kissed Michael back desperately, smiling within the kiss. “Oh, god… I hate to admit this… but… I have a huge cramp right now…Um… PYT?” Michael couldn’t even breathe after his orgasm out before you called out the safe word, yanking at those cuffs so that you could get out, quickly.

“Oh lord. Not you too. Hold on baby..”

Michael chuckled loudly against your lips, pulling away from you slowly. He pushed his hands into his pockets, fishing for the key that he dropped inside his deep pocket. “Just one second.”

You might have bitten off more than you could chew in your older age. Cramps ran rampant when you and Michael got intimate; if it wasn’t Michael getting the cramp, it was you. Always a gamble. This time, it had to be both of you. Michael finally found the key and leaned up to your hands, unlocking those cuffs so that you could relax your arms and Michael could take care of the Charley horse you had growing in your thigh.

“Gah, this is so embarrassing… I hope we still got some Icy Hot in the closet…” You whispered to Michael, joking with him. He rolled his eyes at the flat joke you made, shaking his head.

“Maybe leave the jokes to Chris, baby.”

“You a hater in your old age, Y’know that?” You said to Michael, plopping your head down on the bed, decompressing from your much-needed orgasm as Michael stood up from the bed, his pajama pants hanging off his hips. He limped across the side of the room, groaning from his thigh lockin’ up. He dug around in the desk drawer, searchin for the big tube of Icy Hot. He swiftly pulled it from the drawer, presenting it to you.

“Today’s our lucky day! Just enough for both of us!”

“Thank the lordt!”

it was like pure muscle memory, because before you and michael started dating, he was your friend. and you both have only been dating for a month and a bit so without thinking twice you accidentally called him your friend, and now he’s upset with you.

and when michael is upset, he goes silent.

not the normal silence… no. the type of silence where he acts like you don’t exist.

you both are being driven by bill back to hayvenhurst and michael has been silent the whole ride back. when you mentioned him being a friend at the restaurant you were all at, he acted normal. even laughed along with everyone else when you quickly apologised and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. but you could tell the way he tensed up and the way his hand moved from your knee to the back of your chair that he was pissed.

he’s not even sitting close to you in the car like he normally does. he’s pushed against the other side of the car, staring out of the window with his fingers restlessly tapping against his thigh.

“tonight was fun.” you speak up, reaching over and resting your hand above his.

michael hums, still refusing to look at you.

and that’s it, he doesn’t say anything else. doesn’t even move an inch. just continues to stare at the passing houses outside until bill eventually reaches the hayvenhurst estate.

michael gets out of the vehicle immediately, not even waiting for you to step out after him. not even giving you a helping hand out of the car like he normally does, he just unbuckles his seatbelt, opens the door and starts pacing towards the double doors of the home.

and that’s when you realise that something is definitely wrong with your boyfriend.

bill turns around and looks at you with his eyebrows raised. “did you guys argue or something?”

you huff, shaking your head no. “i don’t know what happened. he’s just being— y’know what, nevermind. ill go and speak to him.” you mumble, thanking bill and making your way inside.

“michael!” you call out, making your way into the kitchen and seeing him at the island pouring himself a glass of orange juice.

he ignores you, putting the orange juice back in the fridge.

you huff, reaching out and pulling his glass of orange juice towards you. “if you don’t speak to me, you’re not getting this.” you state.

“give it back.” michael mumbles, his head ducked down.

“no.” you shake your head. “there’s obviously something wrong with you and instead of talking to me about it, you’re straight up ignoring me.”

michael looks up at you and his eyes are glassy… it looks like he’s about to cry.

your brows pull downward, your mouth forming an 0 shape. “mikey… baby what’s wrong.” you whisper, stepping around the island so you’re right in front of him. you cup his face in your hands, stopping him from looking away.

“you— you said i was your friend.” he mutters, his voice so damn quiet that if you wasn’t right in front of him then you wouldn’t of heard.

“huh? michael are you talking about what i said at dinner? that was an accident baby. i immediately apologised and even made it clear that you are the love of my life. that you are my boyfriend!” you lean up and give him a kiss on his lips that are still pulled into a frown.

“you still called me your friend.” he pouts.

“and i said i was sorry then and i’m saying i’m sorry now, you really are dramatic.” you can’t help the small grin that creeps up.

michael huffs, turning around. “wait no,” you laugh, grabbing his arm.

“it’s not funny.” michael crosses his arms over his chest.

“i know, i know!” you grin. “i just thought something was seriously wrong.”

the face michael makes is genuinely priceless. “what? yes there was something seriously wrong. you called your boyfriend a friend!” he sputters out.

“okay, im sorry. please forgive me!” you say, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“you have to watch horror movies with me for a week.”

“…michael you can’t do that!” your body automatically shivers at the thought.

“that’s the only way ill forgive you!” he shrugs, a smile now forming on his face.

you drop your head on his shoulder in defeat. you guess that’s the punishment of your own actions.

“fine.” you mumble.

taglist:

Bellbottom jeans were absolutely one of the best fashion statements of the 60’s-70’s, however, by ‘79 the fad had started to die out.

Not for Mike’s girl though, and definitely not for his eyes when he shamelessly watched your heartshaped ass swaying as you walked. Or when it’s a late fall afternoon, and you’re reaching out for a glass that’s just slightly out of reach, very subtly having to jump to grab it.

What’s not subtle is the way your ass still jiggles even in the rough material. Bouncing through the strained material as it struggles for dear life not to split. The edges of the pair of jeans showing had already started to fray, the wear after only a few months of you owning them.

The jeans held your ass perfectly, showing off your curves and plump thighs as you walked through the Encino household. Michael’s brothers were very aware of just the type of girl Michael had managed to land. Her sticky sweet lipgloss and strong floral perfume wafting through their doorways every time she came over.

“Damn girl, you gonna tear those things or what?” Tito called out to you, a light whistle under his breath as he leaned back against the counter.

You scoffed, turning your head towards the older brother, “Tito, watch your eyes. There’s nothing down there that’s for you,” your teeth showing in a grin, as you slapped the brother’s arm, scooching your way over to the ice box.

“Yeah, Mike’s gettin’ all that. Ain’t that right Mike?” Tito called out to the younger brother, laughing, as he pushed an exhaling Jackie.

“Damn right he is, look at him,” Marlon gestured over, “actin’ all shy like we don’t hear them gettin’ it on at night. Ooh, Mikey, you hittin’ it so good,” He mocked in a whiney voice, dodging as you hurled an ice cube at him, the cube’s target instead becoming Michael when it hits him in the face.

“Sorry, baby. Didn’t mean for that to hit you,” You said with an apologetic frown before turning to Marlon with narrowed eyes, “I was aimin’ for Marlon,”

Michael rolled his eyes at his brothers’ teases, “Enough out of all of you guys, don’t gotta talk about her like that,” he mumbled out, peeling open the back of Marlon’s shirt and pushed the cold cube down. Watching as Marlon cursed and did an awkward dance trying to get the cold thing off him.

You giggled at that, taking a sip of your drink as you felt Michael’s hand wrap around your free one, dragging you to him possessively.

Mike would never admit it, but sometimes his brothers’ teases did cause him a little upset, a ball of heat rising in his chest. Only getting bigger with each joke. He didn’t like it when they’d speak about you so vulgarly knowing they each had their own girls. The boys’ talks would mention recent music updates, the current sports teams they’d been betting on, and whatever sex topic that had happened to them of late, whether with groupies or the same ladies that were a few feet away from them having their own discussion.

When those conversations took place, Michael stayed silent, hands fidgeting as his responses died in comparison to the previous conversations. He was uncomfortable with sharing the details of your private life, wanting to keep that for him and himself only.

When you first started coming round the house more often, his brothers tried to ask him invasive questions, “you tap that yet?”, “but how well does she suck it?”, and inappropriate hand gestures, but he’d always shake his head, stammering a, “I don’t see how that’s any of y’alls business,” followed by his brothers exclaiming how their sweet ‘nd innocent angel of a little brother Michael couldn’t possibly handle, “all that”. He’d huff and storm off towards you and the girls, head propping onto your shoulder as his arms snaked around your waist, sighing when you leaned back into the familiar frame of his body.

You’d tilt your head up at him, acknowledging that he was there with a light peck on his temple, before returning to your conversation. You heard the distant, “He ain’t know how to take care of business,” as they all shuffled into the main room, joining in on the conversation. You laughed quietly under your breath when you realized what had gotten your usually shy boyfriend, all touchy. Michael usually choosing to refrain from much physical affection when others were nearby.

That had become the pattern whenever the brothers flirted with you, and while everyone knew that you were Mike’s girl and never meant any harm, it’d never stopped Michael's possessive side to come out.

He swiped his thumb across your knuckles as he held your hand, his other one coming up to the side of your hip to guide you away from the kitchen and upstairs, ignoring the whoops and knowing whistles from his brothers.

“Mikey baby, where we going?” You murmured, making your steps onto the plush carpeted stairs, knowing damn well.

“Jus’ goin’ to my room. It’s quieter anyways, they’re all bein’ stupid,” He said, eyes locked in on the way your ass pushed against your pants, hips rocking side to side as you continued your way up the staircase. The slight swishing of the denim rubbing against each other as your fat thighs connected to the other.

Mike loved your curves, he loved watching when you’d stand up, brushing your pants off and the way your shit would move. It was so sexual and you weren’t even doing anything. Not really. Though you might’ve exaggerated some movements when you felt his watchful gaze.

He loved when you would suffocate him, thighs closing around his head as he ate you out. He enjoyed struggling to breathe against you as you moved your hips across his face, not really caring about anything but the pleasure he was bringing you.

He loved when you’d be sitting on the couch together, legs thrown over his lap as his palm came down to rub on your thick thighs. Groping the fat of your skin as he squeezed it in his hand, fingers playing in your pussy as you sighed.

And right now he had an idea forming that he knew he would love as well.

Michael had your legs splayed out as he sat in the space between your thighs, bellbottom jeans torn off and thrown somewhere onto his bedroom floor as he'd stripped both of you down to nothing.

“Michael..stop teasin’,” you whined at him, wriggling your hips trying to get him to move. But Michael remained still, his own legs pressed against the backs of your plush thighs as he lazily drew the tip of his dick through your folds. Occasionally tapping it against your clit as you pouted at him.

“Jus’ be patient girl, ‘m gonna get you there. I always do,”

He gently pushed his hips, teasing your hole as he watched the tip of his dick slip in easily, shallowly thrusting. The obscene schlick from your wetness, made you bring your hands up to cover your face in embarrassment. Your desperation slipping out through your voice as you whine, begging him to go deeper.

But Michael didn’t push deeper, in fact he slid right back out with a pop, and you cried out in frustration,

“Mikey, just fuck me, please. I feel like ‘m dyin’” The heat surrounding the two of you was unbearable, your damp body sticking to his wherever your skin had made contact from the light sheen of sweat.

Michael just let out a quiet, “hmm” at you, grabbing your hands away from your face and leaned down to press a kiss to your lips, fingers brushing away the few tears that had managed to escape from your welling eyes.

“I wanna do somethin’ different, is that okay sweet baby?” He asked you, hands going to the back of your thighs as his thumbs rubbed circles against them, lightly squeezing trying to push you into a response.

You peered up at him, biting your bottom lip as you nodded your head yes,

“‘m gonna need words from you babygirl,” he trailed his hand up, moving his thumb from your thigh to your clit, applying a dizzying amount of pressure as you tried to respond.

“Yes, fu-, Michael, it’s fine, please just do somethin’,” You moaned out, hands weakly pushing at his wrist.

As soon as the words of permission escaped your mouth breathlessly, Michael went to work. He removed his hand from your clit, ignoring your protests against the loss of sensation, and grabbed your ankles. He hoisted them up in the air and slung them both over his shoulder, bracing himself against you as he slid his dick in between your hot thighs, hands moving to push the fat even tighter against his dick and he let out a soft moan.

“Mm, baby you feel so good like this, feel like this where ‘m meant to be, right in between y’ legs,”

You moaned out at the feeling of his dick sliding in between your thighs, the sounds of his hips hitting yours filling the room with a light slap, slap, slap. You hadn’t known this is what he was asking you to do. It was filthy.

Looking up at Michael, his eyes screwed tight as he lost himself in your thighs, moaning shamelessly as his movements got more erratic, the brief rhythm he had set being forgotten as he whined.

“How ‘bout that, mama? Am I fuckin’ your thighs good? Hmm?” He asked, opening his eyes as he looked at your slack-jawed expression. He slowed his thrusts, when you didn’t respond. Tapping your ass and watching it jiggle.

“C’mon girl, answer me,”

“Y-yes, Mike, fuckin’ my thighs real good,”

“Yeah? Want me to be inside you for real now?” Michael paused his movements as he grabbed one of your legs that had been laying on his shoulder, pushing it up against your chest as he slotted himself back into you, pushing slowly in as you squirmed beneath him. Finally getting what you had been wanting so badly.

“That’s it, takin’ it so well f’me,” Michael praised as he entered you completely, your sopping cunt swallowing him down to the hilt. He let out a few experimental rolls of his hips, stroking into you deeply before picking up his pace.

He fucked into you relentlessly, holding the back of your knees up, as you reached back to grip the pillows. All but crying out in pleasure as he hit that spot deep inside you.

“Right there, oh you’re hittin’ it so good” Maybe Marlon hadn’t been too wrong about what you screamed during sex.

The headboard loudly knocking into the wall, but that sound seemed to not break through both of yalls sex driven daze, ignoring how loud you two had unknowingly been, forgetting all about the few brothers that had been downstairs just moments earlier. Or maybe Michael knew and he didn’t care.

“Feel so fucking good mikey oh shit, ‘mm gonna cum,” you moaned out.

“Baby, watch your mouth,” Michael frowned, hypocritically criticizing your language as a string of quiet curses spilled out.

Your eyes widened as you heard the sound of the boys’ low voices and heavy footsteps approached the door.

“Wait-mm, Mike stop,” you patted his arm that had caged you in, trying to grab his attention. But he didn’t stop, instead continuing to pound into you even deeper, dragging out moans you desperately tried to cover up.

“I know y’all not in there fuckin’ like animals,” Marlon teased, as the laughter of the other brothers followed.

“C’mon Marlon, leave ‘em alone now,” Jackie smacked his teeth.

“All y’all needa leave, ‘m busy,” Michael called out, his thrusts not slowing as he spoke. “Don’t need an audience when ‘m with my girl,” he muttered frustratedly, fingers going to rub his eyelids

Tito and Marlon cackled, “Yeah Mike, ‘m sure you’re real busy right now,”

Michael rolled his eyes, attention switching as he turned his gaze back over to you, hand reaching down between the two of you to rub lightly on your clit.

You were shameless at this point, mostly because it hadn’t been the first instance that the annoying brothers had gotten in the way of you and Michael’s alone time. Hell there were too many of them to get any real privacy. The tension that had been built up was so high, and with Michael’s parents out of the house for a few hours, you’d-in prenut clarity- decided you didn’t care about the boys outside the door, and Michael? Well Michael thought he’d show out.

“Oh fuck! ‘m so close baby, please. Don’t stop, oh don’t stop, ‘m gonna cum, ‘m cummin’” you moaned, fucking back against him,

“Oh shit,” Marlon’s voice quieting as he looked at his other two brothers, “Guess he can take care on business”

The slap of skin was heard outside the door, Jackies voice following, “Marlon leave ‘em the hell alone,”

“What? ‘M jus’ sayin’” Marlon reached his hand up to rub at his neck awkwardly.

“For real though Mike, we ‘s’posed to be leavin’ soon, hurry it up,” Jackie yelled out, ushering Marlon and Tito back downstairs, the fading sounds of footsteps following.

Michael laid back against his bed, arms folding over his chest as he stared at you.

While Michael had decided to take his time with getting dressed, you were already up. Back turned to him, with your panties and bra on as you stepped into your jeans. Jumping into them as you tried to get the fat of your ass inside the pair of pants.

He watched you struggle to pull them on, wiggling your hips around, ass just jiggling tantalizingly in front of him, unknowing of the hardness you were causing.

He swung his feet over the side of the bed, feet padding against the floor as he made his way quietly over to you, wrapping you in his arms, voice low in your ear,

“Y’ know, we ain’t gotta leave right now…” he planted a kiss behind your ear, pressing himself into you.

You rolled your eyes at his words, turning around to face him as your arms went around his neck, pulling him in for a light peck, “No baby, we gotta go-mmph,” he interrupted your sentence, placing light kisses on your lips as you spoke, “Your brothers are already, mmph waiting for us. Don-mmph wanna make them late too,”

Michael pulled back and stared at you, a gentle smile on his face as he looked at you with such devotion and love, it made your heart melt, but you’d known this boy and his little tricks.

“No, we are leaving, get dressed c’mon,” You removed yourself from his hold, turning over to grab his clothes that had been on the floor.

Feeling the hard, smack, that had landed right on your ass as you bent down.

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

Michael couldn’t pinpoint exactly when it started but he knew ever since you started dating that absolute prick, things started to slowly change in your relationship for the worse. You were his closest friend but lately he felt like you were slipping away from his grasp and he felt powerless to stop it from happening. At first he thought it was something he did or said, he spent a bit of time trying to self-reflect on himself- did he hurt you? Or did he upset you? Have you grown tired of him? Was his lifestyle too much for you? Did you hate him? Michael would shudder whenever he thought of the last question as though he couldn’t even fathom a reality where his best girl hated him. Countless nights were spent not getting a wink of sleep. The anxiety was all-consuming as he dreaded the tether to your friendship being stretched too thin. He didn’t want to think about that invisible tether snapping. 

Giving away pieces of himself was his norm, everyone would just take and take and take. It felt like pouring from a cup about to be empty. You were the only one giving to him- pouring into his cup. Some days, you were the reason he kept pushing. Your mere presence was his salvation. Michael had been through a lot since his childhood, he had reached the pinnacle of success according to most peoples’ definition but life had yet to treat him kindly as he faced endless scrutiny, had his privacy invaded, worked himself to the bone all while he performed on the stage beyond just song and dance, and maintained a facade for not just the cameras but even his family. Until you came along. With you he didn’t have to pretend and around you he didn’t have to perform. And now something was threatening that fragile balance. Michael felt as though he was on the edge of a cliff, bracing himself for a gust of wind to tip him over. 

Something was seriously wrong but he had no idea what, his instincts were screaming with no direction. He tried to talk to you, but you weren’t communicative- refusing to elaborate on his enquiries, insisting everything was fine and tactfully evading certain topics pertaining to him. Michael never liked your boyfriend, something wasn’t quite right about him and he didn’t seem trustworthy. Michael knew he was jealous of your friendship and though he would never admit it out loud or outwardly gloat like he wanted to, a sick and smug part of him felt immense pride at having emasculated the prick. Needless to say, the two men did not like each other- Michael felt as though he did not deserve someone as kind and lovely as you, he felt threatened by your friendship with Michael- a fact he was well aware of. 

He was also increasingly aware of your change in behaviour. You were slowly pulling yourself away from him. Even though you thought you were doing a job at acting like everything was okay in front of Michael, unfortunately for you, Michael was incredibly perceptive but he held his tongue. He wouldn’t confront you for fear of scaring you away, he couldn’t afford to have your defenses go up. 

He noticed your smiles got dimmer and they didn’t quite reach your eyes. You weren’t laughing as much as you used to and if you did then they died down swiftly. You seemed to zone out easily as though you were in over your head, not even thinking deeply but just mentally checked out. The dissociation would have him worried because you didn’t do it this often before. You tried to take up less space, making yourself seem as small as possible by curling into yourself when your presence was once larger than life, your laughter once livened up the atmosphere like sunshine. Your confident struts had devolved into hesitant and quiet steps. You were slowly limiting your visits to Neverland, you rarely spoke to his siblings or his mother. They all wondered what was happening with you and they all voiced their concerns, especially Janet and La Toya. 

Your sense of style had also changed little by little until there was no more life left. Gone were the expressive jewellery pieces you’d wear on your ears, wrists and neck. You had swapped your colourful tops and dresses with fun patterns or silhouettes for plain and simple shirts. You swapped your skirts, shorts and embroidered bottoms for plain and loose jeans or trousers. You abandoned your pretty heels, your funky boots and your cool sneakers for basic and practical shoes or flats. You started covering up on certain days. It could be a hot day enough to melt a solid popsicle but you’d be clad in a full sleeve shirt. If he asked why you were fully covered, you’d respond by saying you felt cold when he could visibly see the sheen of sweat on your forehead or sweat beading on your upper lip. You no longer wanted to go down to the pool or sunbathe and read a book like you used to. Michael remembered the times when his vitiligo started spreading more rapidly, he also did similar things and that had him worried for you. 

Michael realised you wouldn’t hold eye contact with him. They say the eyes are the windows to the soul. You were the most expressive person he knew, besides himself. You were so animated, sometimes your body language was extensive. There were some feelings and expressions your face just couldn’t hide and he knew this. It was one of his favourite qualities about you, the lack of pretense. You could be your true self around him and he could do the same, without fear of judgment. Michael missed staring into your beautiful eyes- those eyes now seemed so vacant and dull. You would barely look at him because you were scared he would see too much, understand too much. Your pretty face would be downtrodden. You would smile timidly whenever you spoke with him, as if smiling was somehow too taxing for you or too loud. 

You had trouble with work. You were taking sick leaves and they weren’t happy with you for it. Eventually you quit. You told Michael the workplace environment wasn’t the best fit for you and you were going to look for a different job. This made no sense to him because you weren’t the type of person to quit your job without having another one lined up. You were meticulous and level-headed, you didn’t make hasty decisions and you thought of backup plans. 

The other extremely alarming aspect was when you dissociated so much. He went to the bathroom, on his way back, he couldn’t get your attention despite calling out your name a few times. He decided to tap your shoulder. Such a small action yet you had such a visceral reaction that you flinched so hard, you nearly jumped out of your own skin. “Hey woah! Angel, it’s just me.” Michael snatched his arm in a surrendering motion and his own eyes were slightly widened but he tried to remain calm for you, as though he was approaching a wounded animal. You looked panicked, eyes frantically darting around before you gradually calmed as they landed on his face. 

Michael had never seen your face look this stricken before. You had never flinched at his presence. You both had play fights and goofed around so much physically that he didn’t even think it was possible for you to be frightened… by him? “What were you thinking about, beautiful?” he coaxed. “Nothing much. Sorry, you were talking about the recording? Tell me more.” you said with a small smile. Michael quickly schooled his expression of dismay. He knew you were changing the topic but he knew deep down, something was incredibly wrong. But he didn’t know what to do.

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

He noticed you were taking painkillers more than usual. Most of the time, even on some of the worst days on your cycle or when you had migraines, you wouldn’t take any painkillers. “I can handle it, I’m a big girl.” you would say and instead opted for a hot or cold compress or natural remedies. What could you possibly take painkillers for, and to this extent? The girl who would ‘thug it out’ now popped two advils like candy. Michael would be there to comfort you when you were going through those days when he would be available but instead of reaching for him, you took your comfort in meds. 

“How come you’re taking painkillers? You usually never take them.” he questioned, trying to make the question seem as innocent as possible when in reality he was prodding and gouging your reaction. “Oh, the cramps have been getting pretty bad lately. Y’know… lady stuff. Don’t wanna bore you.” you said, not looking at him as you shook the bottle. Michael stared at you for a beat, “You know you could never bore me, angel. You sure you don’t wanna go to the doctor? I can find a good one for you, just say the word.” he asked, his voice held an undercurrent of hope. You shook your head before you smiled at him, a smile once again that didn't touch your eyes, “I’m a big girl, I can handle it.” Those words were said so softly yet they didn’t sound convincing, even to your ears. “You know you can talk to me if something’s bothering you, right [reader]?” he said, his voice was so tender, your heart felt like it was cracking. You said nothing because you were scared your voice would croak, so you nodded without looking at him. Michael repressed a deep sigh of frustration and despair, not at you, never at you but because he felt helpless. 

“Come here, angel.” he said as he opened his arms wide. You stared at his body, his arms looked so inviting and so safe that you just wanted to burrow yourself in them forever and never come out. You hesitated for a few moments, Michael’s arms faltered a bit and he was puzzled because you never refused cuddles or hugs. In fact, you initiated them most of the time. “My arms are hurting now.” he said in a joking tone, hiding his concern. You snapped out of your trance and gave into your longing, you scooted across the couch and practically dove into his open arms, hugging around his waist while his arms spanned across your shoulders and back. You couldn’t help but take a deep sniff of his shirt, the unique blend of his cologne and the unmistakable scent of him made you release a deep sigh of relief as the tension in your body melted away. 

Michael leaned back with you in his hold as he gently caressed your back in repetitive soothing motions and he laid his cheek over your head, fully cocooning you in his warmth. At some point, you had fallen asleep. Michael looked down at your face, your face was relaxed and you looked calm. He couldn’t remember the last time you looked so peaceful and the thought made him frown as he hugged you a bit tighter. He too had fallen asleep at some point with you cuddled close to him. 

You felt like you were running, always running. You ran so fast you were out of breath, your throat closed up, your vision was spotting and your lungs burned. You couldn’t see anything, it was pitch black around you- like the darkness was caving in on you. You heard a voice, so sinister, it called out your name in anger and disgust. “You can’t run from me.” the voice made you turn to your left. “Your precious Michael won’t save you.” your head whipped to the right. “Please, leave him out of this.” you pleaded, with tears dripping down your cheeks. The next word sent the worst case of chills down your spine, “Run.” And so you ran again as you shouted desperately, crying for Michael. “Please. Please stop.” “Somebody help me!” “Michael!”

Michael woke up as though his heart got lit on fire. You were crying in your sleep and you called out his name. The nightmare had such a nasty grasp on you. Your eyes were wrenched tightly shut as you squirmed in his hold. Michael felt incredibly panicked. He started gently rubbing his hands down your back and arms as he called out your name. “Angel. Baby, wake up.” he croaked, willing his own eyes not to well up with tears. “It’s okay, you’re okay.” “Come back to me.” You slowly stopped wiggling but you were still trapped in the dream as you whined and cried. Michael stared at you as he suddenly thought of something. He started singing as he rubbed your back and arms harder, as though coaxing you out of sleep. 

You heard singing. You knew that voice anywhere. It was your favourite sound in the entire world. “Mikey?” you called out. The evil voice stopped taunting you. Michael’s voice was drowning out everything. And you ran again for a completely different reason- to his voice.

“Angel, wake up.” he called out again as he patted your head, smoothing his fingers through scalp. Your eyes slowly opened and winced as you sat up abruptly, tear tracks stained your cheeks and you had an ear-splitting headache. That dream had felt so real. Your breaths were harsh as though your lungs weren’t filling up with enough oxygen, nausea gripped you and your eyes darted around the room. You were having a panic attack. 

“Hey hey. It’s okay. You’re okay. Listen to me, pretty girl. Follow me, okay? Breathe for me.” he motioned for you to follow his breathing patterns, he took your hand in his and pressed your palm flat on his heart- breathing deeply, holding it and then releasing slowly. You nodded frantically as you tried to follow his patterns, your lungs burned but you slowly followed his movement. Eventually, you had calmed down and you felt as though you could breathe again.

Michael went to speak but he quickly shut up when you suddenly reached out to bury your face in his chest and just sob uncontrollably. Your tears soaked through his shirt as you fiercely grabbed onto his shirt into your fists. Michael simply held you tight as he gently swayed you in his arms, one of his hands gently smoothed down the back of your head and your back. “Shhh. It’s okay. I’m right here. Nothing’s going to hurt you, angel.” You cried so hard you had exhausted all your tears and only hiccups remained. Michael reached for the water bottle on the coffee table, unscrewed the cap and held it to your lips, “Drink.” You obeyed, taking large gulps and some of the water dripped down your chin. 

You suddenly looked at him, your eyes were frightened again, “What time is it?” you asked, voice rising in panic. “Almost 9 pm, why?” he asked, now alarmed again. You gasped as you sprung out of his hold. “I need to get home. He’s gonna be worried.” you said, trying to force the calm into your voice even though you felt anything but. “Why do you sound so panicked at him worrying?” he asked, voice soft but it still hit the nail on the coffin. You froze for a second as though the very mention of him shook you to your core before you quickly recovered. “I just…” you took a pregnant pause as you tried to wrack your frazzled brain to find the right words to not alarm Michael more than he already was. “I don’t want him to worry. It’s not considerate and I shouldn’t be here so late.” you said finally, without looking at him and as you gathered your belongings. 

Michael’s eyes trailed over your face before they rested on your wrist. His brows furrowed deeply as he stared at what looked like blue and purple splotches. You didn’t realise your sleeve had rolled up a bit in your panic and you quickly flipped it down. “What happened there? On your wrist?” he asked, his eyes glued to your face.  In your panic, you didn’t realise your sleeve flipped up a bit, revealing the blue and purple splotches on your wrist. You quickly pulled your sleeve down and nervously fidgeted with your things before you licked your dry lips, “I just burned myself with a curler. I’m really clumsy.” 

Michael stared at you hard before he said, “They don’t look like burn marks to me.” You stared at the ground. For a few moments there was nothing being said. “Did he do this to you?” he asked, voice sounded wrecked with tension. The silence was deafening. “Don’t be ridiculous. I told you I burned myself. You’re asking too many questions. You’re not my dad!” you snapped at him. Michael said nothing, simply stared at you as he clenched his fists. You were defensive and Michael concluded you weren’t going to ask him for help, so he was going to take matters into his own hands. 

“I’ll get Bill to drop you off. You shouldn’t be out this late, and no I’m not budging.” he said finally. You said nothing and nodded, deciding you needed the car to get back to your apartment quicker. “[reader]?” he called out and your face turned to him, this time you looked at him. Maybe it was the guilt clawing at your chest for snapping at him but you felt as though you had to look at him and memorise his face. He looked so achingly beautiful in the dim light, his hair was in messy waves with some curls but his eyes were so sad. Michael did the same, he really looked at you and took in all your features, your eyes were dim. “This isn’t over.” he said and that was your cue to leave. 

In the end, Bill did drop you off but not in front of the apartment. In fact, you insisted he dropped you off a couple blocks away from your apartment and you had walked the rest of the way. Bill stayed behind, keeping a close watch until you walked through the building entrance. He told Michael immediately. “Something isn’t right with that girl, Mike.” Bill notified him. 

~~~ DESCRIPTIONS OF PHYSICAL ABUSE STARTS HERE ~~~

You quietly opened the front door, doing your best to hide the turn of the keys and the doorknob as your heart thundered in your chest. You quietly took off your shoes, careful not to let them thud and you tiptoed your way inside. It was dark in the hallway as you felt your way around to the bedroom. “Where were you?” the voice called out from the dark living room and you jumped out of your skin. “I was just in town, with the girls. They wanted to hang out as they were shopping.” you said, voice meek as you felt around for the light switch then flicked it on. A ragged gasp caught in your throat at how much closer he was to you then you thought. “You were with him. Weren’t you?” he spat, the voice containing barely restrained anger. You couldn’t speak, fear taking hold of you as you shook your head vehemently. 

The next thing you knew you couldn’t breathe as he gripped your throat with one hand and pinned you against the wall violently, “You lying bitch.” His fingers painfully dug into your skin as he leaned close to your face to stare at your tear-filled eyes. “I can smell him all over you.” he concluded before he squeezed your neck tighter. You shook your head as you grasped at his hand with both of yours to try and get him to loosen his hold but he held you tight. “P-please! You’re.. hurting….. me.” you choked out as tears trickled down. 

He released a sharp breath through his nose and let go but not before he suddenly slapped you hard across the cheek. Your head whipped to the side, crumpling to the floor as you cried out in excruciating pain. The pain was so overwhelming, it momentarily blinded you as you saw spots dotting your vision and your ears were ringing. “Take a shower and get rid of his stench, whore.” he said with a sniff, voice coated in immense hatred. He then walked out the front door, slamming it shut. 

~~~ END ~~~

You laid on the floor for a while, not knowing how long had passed and the tears had eventually dried up. “Why?” you asked yourself bitterly, voice hoarse. But you didn’t know. You didn’t know where you went wrong to end up like this. All you ever wanted to do was try to get over your feelings. Those very real and strong feelings you had for another man who happened to be your best friend and not the man you had the misfortune of meeting. In your haste to get rid of your feelings, you had latched onto the first man who showed you interest. But as it turned out, he wasn’t a man but a monster. You were living in your own self-made hell. 

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

You hadn’t visited Neverland in a week and you wouldn’t answer Michael’s calls. He was sick with worry and grief. He missed you terribly. He tried to give you space but his heart could not agree with the fact that you basically disappeared and didn’t want to be contacted. He needed you, needed to know you were okay. Something was wrong. So he took desperate measures. Michael had contacted a private investigator after the last time you met him when he saw what he concluded were bruises, he paid the PI a pretty penny to be faster with his investigation to learn about your whereabouts. The alarm bells in his head were ringing so loud, he couldn’t sit still but he needed evidence. When he found out everything you were going through silently, it felt like the floor caved from under his feet and he had trouble breathing. 

Everything he suspected but didn’t want to admit turned out to be true. “Oh. My angel. God, I should’ve known.” he cried and his hands trembled as he read through the papers providing information on your abusive relationship, some of the tears dripped onto the papers and the ink bled. He saw snippets of your bruises- the same bruises you hid with thick layers of concealer and layers. A photo of the wind blowing your scarf from your neck revealed dark blue and purple bruises and he sat there for several minutes with his ears ringing. The PI provided eyewitness accounts of crying, shouting and door slamming coming from your apartment. 

Michael wiped his ears and sniffed, he took a deep breath as buried his head in his hands and gripped his curls. He blamed himself, he should’ve seen the signs sooner. All the things he noticed especially in combination made sense now that he thought a bit deeper. He had enough- enough tiptoeing around you to not scare you off. He knew everything and now he wasn’t going to let you slip away or worse. The woman he loved with the very fiber of his being was in danger and he was gonna be damned if he continued to let it happen. 

Bill was in the room with him when he met with the PI. “Round up the guys and maybe call an ambulance.” he said, voice eerily calm. Bill was puzzled, “What the hell do you need an ambulance for?” Michael stared into the distance before he looked at Bill, his usually pretty and kind eyes were now filled with a sudden fire for vengeance, “Not me but for the bastard hurting my girl.” Bill smiled, “Well it’s about time. I thought you’d never realise.” Michael stared at him, mouth agape, “You knew?” to which Bill stared at him, bewildered. Was he dumb? Bill shrugged before replying, “Is the grass green?”

A sudden, shrill phone call broke through the conversation. Michael answered the phone, “Hello?” Your terrified and small voice cried out frantically, and the line was staticy, “Mikey? I need your help! Please come get me. I’m in the bathroom. He’s outside. I didn’t know what to do. He’s gonna kill me! Please!” In the middle of that conversation, Michael had recorded it and gave Bill the signal to speed up the process. “Angel, listen to me. Stay there. I’m coming right n-” he spoke but he was cut off by violent shouting on your end. “OPEN THE DOOR!” and he heard your whimpers. “I’m coming, baby. It’s okay. Don’t cry. Stay there, don’t open the door. See if you can bar the door with anything.” he comforted you as he kept the panic out of his own voice.

True to his word, he made his driver break countless traffic laws on the way to your apartment. What was likely a 15 minute drive had felt like an eternity for him as he tried to keep his wits about him in the car. He had four of his bodyguards, Bill and himself barging through your apartment after breaking down your door. His eyes widened seeing the worthless scum standing over the bathroom door that was also broken down and hanging off the inches. His bodyguards walked through to detain the prick as he squirmed and shouted, “Get your hands off me!” The relief he felt seeing you curled on the bathroom floor, tears streaking down your face messily as your arms tried to bracket your head was imminent. “Mikey?” you sobbed out, hope bled into your croaking voice. “Angel?” he breathed out in relief. 

~~~DESCRIPTIONS OF ONE-SIDED PHYSICAL ALTERCATION AND CUSSING~~~

“This is between me and her. Leave your nose out of this, Jackson.” the scumbag spat out, his family name sounded out with more heat. “Keep my name out of your mouth.” Michael said, voice hard and he sounded eerily calm. “I knew she’s always going out to see you. The second I take my eyes off her, she starts whoring herself o-” he just kept going yet unmoving since Michael’s security personnel held him back- all bark no bite when someone actually fights back. Michael had heard and seen enough, he was tired of this prick. “You sick son of a bitch!” he growled as he practically leapt across to grab the prick by his collar and landed a hard sucker punch to his jaw and the sharp resounding cry made his blood roar. “I’ve been waiting a long time f’this.” he breathed before he landed another hard blow. “How dare you touch her with your filthy hands?!” he gripped him by the tufts of hair on his head. Bill went to him, “Michael! Calm down! This won’t look good if word gets out!” Michael was uncaring while he gripped his throat with the other hand as he socked him another time, he heard a satisfying and resounding crack. But it wasn’t his. 

Lord knows, he would’ve kept going. He looked down at the pathetic clump, his face was completely mangled as blood spurted from his busted mouth and nose. Michael felt himself going down the deep end, because he felt no remorse and he felt like he could keep going as his fingers gripped his throat harder. His security personnel remained unmoving pillars as they held the borderline-corpse up. 

Then he felt a trembling, very light weight on his back, followed by soft choking sobs getting louder in his ears from behind, “Please. Please, stop. I’m okay.” Michael sighed before he landed another punch to the other side of the prick’s face and let him go, the pathetic loser crumpled to the floor in a heap of flesh and bones. Michael kicked him in the stomach and heard a groan. He sniffed as crouched down, then he slapped his disfigured and bloody face slightly to get his attention, “You’re extremely lucky she stopped me.” “You’re going behind bars, you bastard. You’re not seeing the light of day for a long time. You hear me?” He got up, kicked the lump one last time and flexed his knuckles. Bill quietly handed him a napkin from his person as he rolled his eyes from behind, “Damn, I hope word of this doesn’t get out.” 

~~~END~~~

He turned around to face you, he made sure his body was covering your line of sight to the big lump on the ground and he went to reach out for you before he realised his hands were still bloody and he forgot to wipe them. “Are you hurt, baby?” he asked softly, careful not to startle you as he wiped his fingers clean as best he could, the sticky residue persisted. One of the cleaner hands reached up, so incredibly gentle as he cupped your cheek to inspect your face, turning it side to side. You shook your head, your voice was wobbly as your hands reached up to hold his wrists, “I’m okay. You got here just when he broke the door open.” 

Michael saw the slight bruises around your jaw, neck and wrists in plain sight, they were fading but they were still such a heartbreaking sight. His own eyes welled with tears when he brought you into his chest, hugging you so tenderly but you only held him tightly and rested your head on his shoulder as he rested his cheek on your head, “I should’ve known. I should’ve been there sooner. I’m so sorry, angel. I’m so so sorry.” You shook your head as you cried for the nth time the whole month. “You’re here now. It’s not your fault. Never your fault. Don’t blame yourself. I should’ve confided in you sooner. I just didn’t want to burden you or make you worry. I’m sorry.” you said with a surprisingly firm but still hoarse voice. He vehemently shook his head as he pressed his lips gently to your forehead. How could you blame yourself? “Silly girl.” he tutted. “It’s nobody’s fault other than this prick’s. I should’ve never let him touch you.” he said with barely concealed rage. “It doesn’t matter now.” you said, staring into his eyes. “You’re finally looking at me, angel.” Michael said softly, the relief he felt was so palpable, it showed in his whole being. His thumb softly reached out to wipe away the tear tracks, he was in awe, as though he were waiting to simply look into his eyes for the longest time. For the first time in a very long time, he saw the spark return to your beautiful eyes.

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

Michael had called a private female doctor to help treat you, luckily, your wounds weren’t severe and she gave you some meds and creams to take care of the pain and bruises while recommending lots of rest. He was over the moon to have you back in Neverland as he insisted you stayed with him to recover for a week. You denied but he wouldn’t take no for an answer, claiming he had the space and resources to make sure his best girl was healing. It didn’t feel like home in that massive estate without your presence filling it and he didn’t realise the full extent of his utter misery when you weren’t there. You were the magic in Neverland so when you were suffering, the magic dwindled. Michael never wanted to relive the last couple months ever again. 

He constantly hovered over you while you were recuperating. It felt as though he was checking up on you every ten minutes, asking if you needed anything, he offered to help you with everything and he basically watched you like a hawk. You got better in the next almost two weeks, your bruises were almost faded, your smiles were brighter, your laughter was louder and you were taking up more space in the house instead of fighting to make yourself invisible. Michael had also arranged for a therapist to help you process your thoughts once a week with your permission, no doubt the entire situation took an equal toll on you mentally. He was glad his best friend and the love of his life was finally back in his arms. Nobody was going to hurt you anymore under his watch. 

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

“No peeking!” he said in between a fit of giggles, you had a scarf covering your eyes while he held your waist with both large and warm hands to guide you. “This feels dangerous!” you exclaimed as you walked in your platform wedges and yellow floral sundress. “We’re almost there. Honestly! Don't you trust me, woman?” he teased, he was wearing a white button up, black slacks and his black fedora. “Not right now, no.” you tutted and he raised one hand up to flick you on the forehead, making you yelp in response. It was a beautiful and sunny day outside, balmy weather with the occasional fluffy white cloud dusting the otherwise clear blue skies. 

“Y’know… I was wondering, now that you’re better.” he said, he seemed hesitant and almost shy. “What is it, Mikey?” you said as your steps halted. You couldn’t see him but you felt his presence, you lifted the cloth over one eye to peek at him. “I was thinking… would you wanna come with me? On tour?” he asked. Your mouth parted in shock as the question caught you off guard, “You mean… the HIStory tour? But isn’t it gonna take a whole year or something?” Michael held both your hands while his thumb gently rubbed over your knuckles. “I know. We’re still deciding on the dates and other logistics but I want you to be there. With me. And you can leave whenever you want.” his voice quietened at the last part. There was a pregnant pause and he said, “Just think about it, angel. You don’t have to say anything right now.” You nodded and sighed dejectedly before giving out a cheeky smile, “Guess I’m gonna have to find a job next year.” Michael whipped his head at you in shock before surprised giggles burst out and he quickly reached for you to pull you into an embrace and you couldn’t help but laugh too as he swayed you in his hold.

Finally, you both reached the designated spot, not without more bickering. “Okay ready?” he said, the giddiness was bleeding into his voice and you nodded excitedly. He lifted his hand to gingerly untie the cloth from your head and your eyes had to adjust a bit to the brightness. You gasped in wonder at the sight before you. He had brought you to the beautiful pond on his estate grounds but he had set up the most adorable picnic with the blanket, basket that seemed stuffed to the brim, your eyes trailed to the bouquet of your favourite flowers arranged in a crystal vase and a box of what seemed like your favourite brand of chocolates next to it. “Like it?” he asked, you didn’t know he held his breath in anticipation for your answer. You looked at him with wide eyes and a smile so wide your cheeks were sore as you cheered, “Like it? I LOVE it! This is so cute!” 

The two of you sat down to enjoy the various snacks, fruits, sandwiches, drinks packed. You smelled the flowers. Michael had taken a smaller one from the vase and gently tucked it behind your ear with a beaming yet loving smile. At some point you both started cloudgazing. “Hey, what’s that?” Michael asked innocently as he gently bumped his shoulder to yours. You were confused when you looked up. There was a plane flying, after squinting some more you saw a banner unfurling from the end of the plane and you made out the words that read “WILL U BE MINE?” This bewildered you so much your jaw popped open in shock and then your head whipped to him, he was smiling at you softly but noticed one of his hands fiddling with the picnic blanket under his hand. 

“Are you kidding me? YES! A million times yes!” you exclaimed with glee as you reached over to hug him. Michael nearly fell over before he hugged you back just as tightly and he buried his face in your neck to deeply inhale your scent. He pulled back to stare deep into your eyes as his hands shifted to hold your waist and he said, “I love you.” “I love you.” you said it back, voice full of adoration and certainty as you reached out to kiss him, your hands cupped his jaw and cheeks. He responded immediately as your lips slotted over his perfectly. You tilted your face to push your lips deeper as he sucked your bottom lip into his mouth before letting go, making you moan and you bit his lip in return which made him groan throatily. The kiss became feverish as he slipped his tongue into your mouth to tangle with yours, and you felt goosebumps erupt all over your skin. 

You pulled away first to catch your breath, you felt your ears and cheeks go warm, your lips were tingling from the kiss, your vision suddenly felt brighter. Michael wasn’t in a better off condition than you, a subtle flush dusted his cheeks and ears while he breathed deep but the smile you two shared was equally happy. “Look up, angel.” he said as he pointed back to the sky. You laughed again as you watched a heart being streaked by the plane before he slowly flew off. “I didn’t realise you could be this cheesy.” you clutched your stomach trying to reign in the giggles. “Only for you, mama.” he said, still smiling, fully content in spoiling you and showing you the true extent of his feelings. The two of you had denied your feelings for each other for far too long and wasted enough time. Michael was done hiding how he felt. You reached out to smooch him all over his face wherever you could reach on his forehead, cheeks, chin, nose and he let out uncontrollable giggles, “That tickles!” 

You two had finished eating most of the food, you were settled against the tree with Michael’s fedora on your head, as he laid his head on your lap while you absentmindedly trailed your fingers through his hair. Your fingers traced over his pretty features, gently grazing over his eyebrows, his eyelids, sloping down his nose, caressing his cheeks and jawline, your thumb brushed his lips and you stifled a giggle when he pursed his lips to press a small kiss to your thumb. You reached for another chocolate truffle from the box and bit into it, the liquid center slightly dripped down the corner of your mouth. Michael reached out his hand to rub at the residual chocolate before he pulled the finger into his mouth to lick it off with a small moan. He pouted as he opened his mouth and you giggled before you popped the other half in, his tongue slightly grazed your finger tip as he closed his lips. You felt a shudder and his eyes flashed with an undercurrent of lust and mischief. 

“Is this what paradise feels like?” he said as he stared up at you in awe, his pretty eyes were slightly dazed. You smiled down as your fingers threaded through his curls, “Maybe.” He gently grasped your hand and rested his cheek on your palm, as he stared at you with so much love in his eyes, “Must be. You are an angel afterall.” You both basked in each others’ comforting presence as you showered one another with loving touches and praise. You felt incredibly blessed and Michael was imagining his whole future as he laid there. He needed you, just as much as you needed him. 

“You know… I’ve loved you since basically the day we met.” 

“You’re joking. I’VE loved you since we met!”

“You WHAT?”

masterlist

The air in the bedroom was thick with anticipation, the soft glow of the lamps casting warm shadows across the sheets. You and Michael had been building up to this moment for a while, and since both of you were experienced lovers, you figured it would be a seamless transition from kissing to fucking. You were confident, eager, and frankly, a little impatient.

Michael, however, was being cautious. He moved with a gentle, deliberate pace, his fingers working slowly to open you up, his eyes searching yours with an expression of pure devotion. He wanted everything to be perfect for you.

"Just a little more, sweetheart," he whispered, his voice a melodic hum against your skin. "I want you to be completely ready. I don't want to hurt you."

You groaned, arching your back and shifting your hips impatiently against his hand. You didn't want the foreplay anymore; you wanted the real thing. "Mike, stop it. I'm wet enough. I don't need all this prep, just get inside me already," you urged, your voice laced with desire.

He hesitated, his doting nature warring with your demand. Eventually, seeing the hunger in your eyes, he caved. He shifted his weight, guiding his dick to your entrance.

The moment he pushed forward, your eyes widened. You had known he was well-endowed, but the reality of his thickness was a shock. He didn't just slide in; he stretched you wide, filling every single millimeter of your space with a blunt, heavy pressure that felt almost overwhelming.

"Oh god... it's too much, papa, fuck!" you gasped, your breath hitching as you felt your walls straining to accommodate him.

Michael paused, his muscles tensing as he tried to ease in, his expression one of concern and tenderness. "Shhh, just breathe for me, love. Just relax," he encouraged softly.

But as he tried to push a bit deeper, the sensation became too intense. You felt like you were being split open by the sheer girth of him. "Uh uh, take some out, Mike, fuck—"

He stopped completely, blinking in surprise. A small, breathless laugh escaped him, though his tone remained sweet. "I'm barely in, girl," he murmured, glancing down at where he was barely past the head of his dick.

Realizing that your impatience had led to a deadlock, Michael didn't push his luck. He slowly slid back out of you, the vacuum of his exit making you whimper. He didn't lecture you; instead, he leaned down to kiss your forehead, his voice soothing. "I'm sorry, my love. Let's do this the right way. I want you to enjoy this."

He spent the next several minutes meticulously prepping you, using his fingers and his tongue to ensure you were as loose and lubricated as possible. He was patient and thorough, ignoring your occasional impatient huffs until he was certain you could handle him.

When he finally lined himself up again, he entered you with a slow, steady pressure. This time, because of the prep, you felt yourself stretching and molding around him. It was still a tight, staggering fit, but as he slowly sank deeper, you felt the incredible sensation of being completely filled. When he finally bottomed out, burying his entire dick deep inside you, you let out a long, shaky moan.

As he began to move, the friction of his thickness against your sensitive walls was almost too much to bear. The depth was staggering. In a reflexive panic, your hands flew up, pushing against his stomach, trying to create distance and run from the overwhelming sensation.

Michael didn't pull away. Instead, he leaned over you, his chest brushing against yours, his eyes locked onto yours with an encouraging, loving gaze. He gently caught your wrists, moving your hands away from his stomach and pinning them softly beside your head.

"Uh uh, move your hand," he whispered, his voice a warm caress. "You can take it, mama. Just let it happen. I've got you."

With your hands secured and his voice anchoring you, you stopped fighting. You gripped the sheets instead, your voice returning to its loud cadence as you felt him start to drive into you with a slow, rhythmic thrust, filling you completely.

The only exception was bubbles. You found bubbles sweet and funny, you didn’t pet him but you sometimes gave him treats and high fives. But even then, Michael had to be holding him for you to feel fully comfortable.

Last week at Hayvenhurst you were round for dinner—a usual occurrence given that the entire family loved you. After the washing up was done and the table was cleared, his family headed upstairs to go to bed but you and Michael had remained downstairs moving to the living room to watch a midnight movie—one of your favourite things to do together.

You both settled on a slasher horror movie from the early 80s that you both had never seen before, which was funny because the two of you hated scary movies but you thought why not.

“I can’t look.” Michael raises his hands covering his face.

“Neither can I…” You whisper with your own face covered by a pillow.

“How much you wanna bet he’s right behind her?” Michael whispers.

“No, no he’s definitely still in that closet Mike.”

“No way he can’t still be in there after ten minutes baby, i promise ya he’s right on her tail.” He whispers as both of you are practically trying to enter each other's skin with how pressed up together you are.

“I’m tellin ya mike he’s still in that closet, there’s too many people around for him to do somethin stupid.”

“Baby I'm tellin ya he’s not.”

“Fine. Let’s make a deal.”

Bad decision.

“Sure.”

“If he’s still in that closet, you owe me back massages for a whole week.”

“Deal. And if he’s not?”

“If he’s not…then….” You trail off trying to think.

“You have to pet all my animals.”

Your head whips towards Michael’s as he's chuckling with his head thrown back at your reaction, your jaw drops.

“Michael, no way.”

“Yes way.” He says still cracking up

“No.”

“Okay my llamas at least? Please c'mon they are the friendliest!”

“Y’know what? Fine. deal. Because I'm so certain his ass is still in that closet. And I can't wait to prove you wrong.”

“Whatever you say baby.”

You and Michael continue to stay huddled close together, he’s now sharing your pillow, joining you in looking over it at the television that's currently displaying the eerie silent scene that makes you and Michael hold you breath watching through narrowed eyes at the character walking through a dark part of the house, the sound of the characters footsteps making the floor board creak makes you grip onto Michael’s hand.

Suddenly…a loud bang sounds causing you and Michael to almost  jump off the couch, screaming as the killer attacks the character from behind—the killer who was in fact not in the closet.

When the gruesome scene finally ends Michael lowers the pillow and turns to you with a shit eating grin.

“No.”

“A deal is a deal baby.”

“Michael no. no. fucking. way. Are you out of your mind? I can't pet your animals!”

“Oh baby c’monn, please? This is a perfect opportunity for you to get over your fears.”

“No way Michael. Hell would have to freeze over.”

𓂃⋆.˚

Hell unfortunately didn’t freeze over, but his continuous begging, pleading and even bruising your ego by calling you a chicken–is how you found yourself the next day being dramatically pulled by his hand as Michael leads you to the cage where his two llamas are.

“Oh Michael I can't.” You whine trying to turn back around but he grips your shoulders redirecting you.

“C’mon baby I'm right here I promise they won’t hurt you.”

Finally approaching the llama side of his mini zoo at Hayvenhurst, you remain five feet apart from the gate as Michael walks in front of the two Peruvian llamas, extending out his hand to stroke the male one that comes to him first–Louie.

“Hi Louie, how are ya today?” He asks, speaking to his pet friend as if he was an ordinary human, stroking his ear and giving him a kiss on the side of his furry face.

Despite feeling anxious near his animals, you always melt at the sight of Michael interacting with them, it always touched your heart to see how loving and gentle he was along with how his beautiful spirit made even animals feel safe around him. 

After pressing kisses on the female one–Lola, he turns to you with a soft smile extending his hand, “C’mere baby, i promise they don’t bite.”

You begin to walk forward very slowly as if the llamas would charge at you “Oh gosh they’re lookin right at me mike!”

He chuckles at your dramatics shaking his head “They just wanna say hi baby, i tell em about you all the time.”

You continue to take agonizingly slow steps towards the cage which would drive anyone else insane but Michael is patient he doesn’t get irritated or rush you, when you finally stand where he is you cling onto him as he wraps his arm around your waist holding you close before giving your lips a peck.

“I got you baby I promise. Okay now just reach out your hand and stroke Lola’s fur, here look.” He demonstrates reaching his hand out and stroking the top of her backs fur soothingly “See? Just like that, soft n gentle she wont hurt you i swear on it.”

You take a deep breath as Michael rubs your arm supportively as you reach your shaky hand forward towards Lola, when Lola senses your hand she abruptly turns her nose to sniff it making you flinch backwards but Michael holds you firmly.

“Oh my gosh–”

“It's okay baby! It's okay! It's normal, she just wants to get used to your scent she won’t hurt you.” You roll your shoulders taking another deep breath.

“Mike, I don't know about this.”

“My love im right here she won’t harm you, okay? here lets do it together.”

He holds onto our wrist before sliding his hand over yours so that it becomes one as both of you lean it forward until your palm connects to her thick coat of fur as her soothing heat seeps through your fingers, you release a surprised gasp at the softness, this was your first time petting an animal–ever. 

“See? There you go baby.” Michael whispers with a proud growing smile watching you stroke your palm back and forth over Lola’s fur, he’s removed his hand from yours ages ago but you haven’t realised.

“Shes so soft and warm” You whisper unaware of the warm smile that's painted your own face. The llama makes soft humming sounds indicating she's enjoying the strokes just as Louie makes his way over wanting some attention too.

“Looks like Louie wants some love too baby.” Michael whispers, caressing Louie's furry face.

You decide to be brave, removing your hand away from Lola to move it towards Louie who is currently getting love from Michael. When Michael sees your hand reaching out for Louie his eyes light up with a big smile as you stroke Louie with a little bit more confidence, even moving to stroke his ears where Michael just was.

“Baby you’re doin it! Oh my gosh m'so proud of you.”

You smile shyly at your boyfriend's praises, feeling as if you were a child who just learnt to ride a bike for the first time.

“See? Look they love you baby, told ya so.” He whispers giving Lola some attention as you continue to pet Louie. 

“Wanna feed em?” He asks as you turn your head to him.

“Mmm..i dunno mike–”

“C’mon please? I promise you’ll enjoy it.”

You exhale softly knowing that you’ve gained a little bit more confidence seeing that they have in fact been harmless towards you so far. “Alright..but just a little bit.”

“Of course!” Michael says before reaching below to where a bucket of hay is, grabbing a small handful and placing it in your palms.

“Here baby, okay just reach your palms out and Louie will eat it.” 

Feeling jittery again, you reach out your hay filled palms slightly flinching when Louie’s attention is back on you as he heads over leaning his neck down before using his tongue to collect the hay into his mouth.

You laugh feeling the slickness of his tongue tickle your palms as he finishes it all hungrily you can’t help but watch in awe “Good job Louie.” You say stroking the top of his furry head.

This continues for about twenty minutes, feeding the llamas hay and grass with Michael who joins in whilst watching you fondly making sure you’re okay. He witnesses your fear of them melt away into adoration, a complete contrast of the scared girl he brought over to Hayvenhurst for the time. He sees your new confidence taking over as you continue to speak to them the way he does, and even shocking both him and yourself when you lean in pressing a kiss on both of them. 

You turn your head meeting Michael’s eyes that's already trained on you with pride mirroring his own warm smile with your own “I can’t believe I'm really doin this mike!” You exclaim excitedly as Michael laughs handing you more grass.

“I always knew you could baby. See? Completely harmless.”

“You’re right, they're sweethearts! I was scared for nothing!”

“Mhm, soo…are you ready for the tigers?”

He watches the smile on your face drop faster than lightening as he drops the bucket of grass laughing loudly holding his stomach.

“Real funny Michael.”

𑣲⋆｡˚

Thank you so much for reading <𝟑 .ᐟ

you had just laughed it off back then. because you were just friends. right? friends held hands. friends cuddled. friends slept in the same bed. that’s what you kept telling yourself, over and over, trying to force your brain to believe it.

you tried your hardest to push all thoughts of him out of your head before he came over. he had planned a movie night since obsessed had finally hit streaming platforms.

you tried not to think about how good he looked when his jawline was rough with stubble because he was growing out his goatee again. you tried not to think about how much you wanted to bite those thick biceps, or how badly you wanted to taste his soft, pink, pillowy lips.

you tried. you really did.

but as the movie credits started rolling in your dark bedroom, it became damn near impossible. jermajesty was fast asleep, heavy and warm against you. his head was resting right on your chest, dangerously close to your neck. hearing the soft, steady sound of his breathing against your skin made your chest tight.

eventually, you closed your eyes and drifted into a sleep of your own, hoping a nap would help stop the aching between your legs. oh, but you were so wrong. because the second your eyes closed, your mind took you right back to him, and you started dreaming about exactly what jermajesty could do to you.

in the dream, you’re wearing the same silk nightgown. the champagne colored one you wore because you know he likes it. his fingers are tracing the hem. lifting it higher and higher.

your hips move before your conscious mind catches up.

it’s a subtle thing at first. just a slow shuffle backwards. the kind of motion your body remembers from solo nights with your vibrator between your thighs.

the friction is blocked by layers of fabric but it’s there. enough to make your breathing change. enough to make the ache between your legs pulse.

“maj,” you breathe.

the word slips out before you can stop it, thick with sleep.

his body tenses behind you and his eyes snap open.

for a second, he’s disoriented. the ceiling fan spinning lazy circles, the blue glow of the tv casting shadows across the room. then he feels it. your ass pressed against him, grinding.

a sound escapes your lips, making his dick twitch in his sweats, blood rushing south so fast it leaves him lightheaded.

“jermajesty.”

his name. you’re saying his name. in your sleep. while your hips work against him in a rhythm that’s getting less subtle by the second.

he should wake you up.

he knows he should wake you up.

but then you whimper, a high, breathy sound that goes straight to his dick—and his hand is moving before his brain can even tell him not to. his palm finds your hip and rests there.

“maj, baby,” you murmur, still asleep. still dreaming.

he raised himself up on one elbow, looking down at you. your lashes are fanned against your cheeks. your lips are slightly parted. the thin strap of your nightgown slipping off your shoulder.

fuck.

he’s been attracted to you since he met you. he’s just never been man enough to do anything about it. he’s was too scared of ruining the friendship. too convinced you didn’t see him that way. but now you’re moaning his name in your sleep and your hips are moving like you’re trying to fuck yourself back against him.

his hand slides from your hip to the hem of your nightgown. slowly, giving you time to wake up. giving himself time to come to his senses.

neither of you does, btw.

the air hits your exposed thighs and you shiver, pressing back harder. he can feel the heat of you through your panties. his fingers trace the waistband of your panties lightly.

you don’t stir. your breathing stays deep and even, but your hips stutter when his thumb brushes the sensitive skin just beneath the elastic.

he moves the fabric aside.

the first touch is barely there—just the pad of his middle finger, tracing the seam of you. he circles your clit gently and your whole body reacts. your hips buck forward like you’re chasing the pressure, then back. directly against his dick, which is straining so hard against his sweats now that it’s almost painful.

“fuck,” he breathes against your hair. “you have no idea.”

he continues the slow circles. steady pressure. he watches your face. the way your brow furrows, the way your mouth falls open a little wider. your breathing hitches again when he increases the speed, just slightly, just enough to make your thighs tense.

“fuck baby,” you moan.

and this time, your eyes fly open.

reality crashes in all at once. his fingers are inside you. two of them, curled just right, stroking that spot that makes your vision blur at the edges. his other arm is snaked around your torso, pinning you against his chest, and his fingers are working your nipple through the silk, rolling and pinching.

this is real. this is actually happening.

“maj—oh.”

your head falls back against his shoulder as your mouth opens. his fingers pumping inside you, his other hand torturing your nipple—is too much and it’s not enough. and at the same time, it’s everything you’ve ever wanted.

“you’re dripping,” he murmurs directly into your ear. his voice is wrecked. low and rough in a way you’ve never heard it. “been dreaming about me, mama?”

you can’t form words. your hips are rolling to meet his thrusts now, fucking yourself on his fingers like you were doing in your sleep. the wet sounds filling the room are obscene.

“tell me to stop,” he says. his fingers slow. “tell me you don’t want this and I’ll stop.”

“don’t stop.” your voice breaks. “baby, please don’t stop.”

he groans against your neck and his fingers push back inside you, three this time, stretching you in a way that makes you gasp and grip his forearm.

“you’re so sexy,” he breathes. still pumping. “you drive me crazy, you know that? you have no idea how many times I’ve thought about this.”

your back arches. your hips buck. his name is a prayer you keep repeating, over and over, each thrust of his fingers pushing you closer.

“maj, please.”

“please what, baby?”

“fuck me. please fuck me.”

he takes away his fingers but before you can complain, he’s bringing them to your lips. shiny with your own slick, glistening in the tv light.

your mouth opens and his fingers slide past your lips and you taste yourself on his skin. you suck them clean, tongue lapping between his knuckles, eyes fluttering shut at the intimacy of it.

“shit,” he hisses. “you’re gonna kill me.”

then his hand is on your jaw, turning your face toward his, and his mouth crashes against yours.

the kiss is nothing like you imagined. it’s not gentle. it’s not hesitant. it’s teeth and tongue and the desperate press of lips that have wanted this for too long. his hand tightens on your jaw, angling your head so he can go deeper, and you moan into his mouth and grip the back of his neck and pull him closer, but somehow it still isn’t close enough.

when he breaks the kiss, you’re both breathing like you’ve run a marathon.

he helps you wrestle your gown off, tossing it somewhere into the dark. his sweats follow. boxers too. then he’s moving, positioning himself between your legs, and you can finally see him.

all of him.

the tip slick and flushed, pressed against your stomach as he leans over you. his chest is heaving.

“you sure?” he asks, giving you one last out.

“i’ve never been more sure of anything.”

he kisses you again. softer this time. then his hands are on your hips, dragging you down the mattress, positioning you beneath him like you weigh nothing. he reaches between your bodies, gripping himself, running the head of his cock through your wetness. one. twice. rubbing himself against your clit on the third pass until your thighs shake.

“fuck, mama,” he groans, looking down at where your bodies almost meet. “this pussy’s so wet.”

the words hit you low in your belly. you’ve heard him say wild things before but this is different. this is him talking to you.

he pushes in.

slow. inch by inch. stretching you out so good that your mouth drops open and your nails dig into his shoulders and every thought in your head dissolves into static.

“look at me,” he says.

you didn’t realize your eyes had closed.

they open and his face is above you, jaw tight, sweat already beading at his temple. he’s holding himself back—you can feel it in the tremor of his arms.

“there you go,” he breathes. his forehead drops to yours. “there you go. look at me, mama.“

he bottoms out.

a shudder passes through both of you.

his mouth seals over yours and he begins to move.

the kiss swallows your moans as he fucks into you. deep strokes. slow at first, because he’s savoring it. your head falls back but his lips chase yours, refusing to let the kiss break for more than a heartbeat. his hips roll. your legs wrap around his waist, heels digging into his back, pulling him deeper.

you let out a moan when he thrusts harder, hitting a spot that makes sparks pop behind your eyes.

“right there,” you whimper. “baby, right there, please—”

his hand slides down your thigh, hiking your leg higher over his arm. the new angle is devastating. every stroke now drags against your g-spot, him pulsing with each squeeze of your walls around him.

the sounds in the room are filthy. skin slapping skin. the wet suck of you pulling him back in each time he withdraws. his name tumbling from your lips in a chant that’s getting louder, needier, less coherent.

“you close?” he pants.

“yes. yes, maj.”

“let me feel it. come on, mama, i got you.”

his thumb finds your clit.

your body obeys before your brain catches up.

the orgasm hits you like a wave. your back arches off the mattress. your nails rake down his back. a sound tears from your throat that you’ve never made before, something between a sob and his name.

he fucks you through it. chasing his own high now, rhythm stuttering, moans catching in his chest.

“where—” he grunts. “where do you want—”

“inside. cum inside me—”

a groan rips from his chest. his hips slam forward one last time and you feel him pulse. his face buried in the crook of your neck, his teeth sinking into the sensitive skin where your shoulder meets your throat, and he rides out the aftershocks with little thrusts that make you both gasp.

for a long moment, neither of you moves.

his weight is crushing you in the best way. you can feel his heartbeat hammering against your chest—or maybe that’s yours.

he lifts his head. his eyes finding yours.

“you’re not gonna wake up tomorrow and pretend this was just a dream, are you?”

your hand comes up to cup his jaw. you run your thumb over his bottom lip, swollen from kissing. “you’re still inside me, maj. i’m pretty sure I’m not dreaming.”

he laughs. low and breathless. then he kisses you—soft this time. tender. a kiss that makes your stomach swoop in a way that’s entirely different from the sex.

he pulls out slowly. then he rolls onto his back, pulling you with him so you’re draped across his chest, and his hand comes up to stroke your hair.

“we should talk about this,” he murmurs.

“probably.”

silence settles over the room. comfortable again. his fingers trace patterns on your spine. your breathing steadies.

“but not right now.”

“not right now,” you agree.