JANAE 𝜗𝜚

your dates would be interrupted by a call from quincy, or michael having an epiphany about potential song lyrics. you’ve started to simply accompany him to the studio because you cherish any time you’d be able to spend with him.

it was starting to become exhausting, though. having to salvage time with your boyfriend was grueling. you felt selfish for thinking that way, but it was starting to feel like the recording studio was seeing michael more than you were.

right now, you were lying in his bed watching the texas chainsaw massacre. it was one of your favorite movies of all time, and even though michael wasn’t a big fan of it, he’d put it on just because you asked nicely.

your body was inclined next to his. one of your legs was thrown over his and your head was lying on his chest. his hand ran up and down your arm in languid movements. moments like these made you forget that you were dating a pop star who had to fight to make time for you.

the phone line rings and you sigh because you already know who’s calling. this was yet another tranquil moment with michael ruined due to his work.

“let me get up, baby,” he taps your arm twice as a signal for you to get up.

begrudgingly, you rise from your position next to him and allow him to leave the bed. your eyes follow his frame as he walks over to the phone and picks it up.

you can’t hear whoever is on the only side, but you don’t have to in order to know that it’s quincy.

“hello?” michael asks.

he doesn’t speak for a few long moments, only nodding his head in agreement as if the person on the other line could see him.

“right now?”

he stays silent for a few minutes more before a look of contempt crosses his face. whatever he’s being told, it’s not good news.

“do you need me like, right now?”

he nods his head in agreement once again. in the meantime, your eyes have never left his figure standing near the phone. he places the phone back on the wall before turning to look at you.

“i gotta go to the studio, baby. quincy needs me,” he informs you regretfully.

“okay.”

“‘m sorry. i know we were watching your movie. i’ll be back as soon as i can,” he steps closer to you as he speaks, stopping right in front of where you were once lying—now sitting.

“okay. i understand,” you say coolly.

he moves one of his hands to rest on your cheek. you can’t help leaning into his palm, despite how peeved you were at him at the moment.

“‘m really sorry, mama. you know i don’t wanna go,” he swears.

“it’s okay. i know you don’t have much of a choice,” you smile wistfully.

he looks at you for a prolonged period of time before he eventually pulls away from you. he maneuvers around the room, gathering everything he’ll need for recording, all while your eyes never leave him.

you can’t help but feel resentment, knowing that yet another short-lived moment with your boyfriend was ruined due to some external factors. you knew how much making music meant to him, his family, and everyone around him. but you wanted just one day where he wasn’t caught up in recording sessions and writing music.

the movie in the background is now long forgotten. you feel inconsiderate for wanting to spend so much time with him. he had pressing matters to attend to and he couldn’t spend all of this time with you. but, a part of your brain couldn’t help but rationalize the situation by concluding that he didn’t want to spend time with you.

“i’ll be back in a few hours,” michael says to you.

“okay. see you then.”

you have a habit of giving michael a goodbye kiss whenever either he or you leaves. when he leans down to reach your height, all you offer him is a chaste kiss, a stark comparison to the way you’d usually indulge in him.

“bye. i love you.”

“love you too,” you say.

michael leaves without another word. you sit and stare at his tv even though you’re paying no attention to the movie, until you conclude that there’s no reason for you to still be in his family’s home if he wasn’t there.

you gather the little belongings you brought with you before leaving. your descent down the stairs is haste and soundless. you’re out of the house long before anyone returns and realizes you were ever there.

once you’re in the comfort of your own home, the immense feelings of melancholy hit you. all you wanted to do today was spend time in your boyfriend's arms, but even that was interrupted.

you feel selfish every time you think about wanting to spend more time with him when he’s occupied with work. you want to be with him, he has to work, it’s practically a never ending cycle of heartsickness.

it was evident that michael wouldn’t be returning to you any time soon, so you opted to sleep away every grievance you had. maybe you’d wake up to all your problems having magically cured themselves—no more work calls interrupting your dates and you have michael’s undivided attention.

you wake up hours later, when it’s dark outside. you have no voicemails or anything else from michael, so you’re determined not to let your mind drift to him tonight.

you unravel yourself from your comforter, making a beeline to your bathroom. you’d complete your nightly routine and attempt to go back to sleep afterwards. you could only hope that your midday nap didn’t disrupt your sleep schedule too much.

the shower water is scalding in a comforting way. it was scorching in a way that relaxed your shoulders and eased your nerves. it was the ideal implement to distract you from your unsatisfactory predicament.

you’re lathering yourself in body oil when you hear two knocks on your front door. you’re caught off guard because you weren’t expecting any visitors, and you didn’t know who’d be randomly visiting you at ten p.m.

you wrap yourself in a silk robe before making your way to the front door. when you open it, you aren’t exactly expecting to see your boyfriend standing there.

“mikey?”

“hey, baby,” he quietly greets you.

you open your door wider as a silent invitation. he steps into your home like it’s an atmosphere he was unfamiliar with.

as soon as you lock the front door behind you, michael’s hands are on you. his hands steadily grip your waist as he pulls your body closer to his. he’s so proximate that you can feel his warm breath fanning your face.

“i missed you so much. you wouldn’t believe it,” he utters.

you place both of your hands on his chest to steady yourself and make a futile attempt at pushing him away. it’s not that you didn’t want him in your space, it’s just very sudden given his recent behaviors.

“are you okay?” you ask him.

“‘m great. i just missed you so much when i was recording.”

“do you have a fever?” you press the back of your hand to his forehead to gauge his temperature. he’s not immensely warm, so you assume he’s fine.

“why do you think something's gotta be wrong with me?”

“‘cause i barely see you these days, and now you come to my house in the dead of night ‘n you’re all over me.”

michael’s eyebrows furrow at your words. he’s well aware that he’s been flaking on you quite often recently, but it’s seemingly bothering you more than he thought it was. he thought you were taking everything relatively well, but that wasn’t the case.

“baby, you know i have to leave for work. i can’t help it.”

“maybe that’s the problem, michael,” you snap.

you shove both of his arms off your waist and begin walking in the direction of your bedroom. both your words and your harsh actions take him aback, but he’s trailing behind you before he can think about it too deeply.

“what’s that supposed to mean?”

you charge into your room and rush to your bathroom. you return to the body oil that you were using before the knock on the door distracted you. michael follows you until he’s leaning against the wall next to the door of the room.

“the problem is that you’re always leaving for work and you can’t do anything about it. you just leave the moment you get a call without any regard for how i’m feeling.”

michael lets out a long exhale and that only furthers your agitation. “mama, you know there’s nothing i can do about it. do you jus’ want me to tell quincy i can’t record because my girl wants me to stay home?”

“yes!” you exclaim, body oil now forgotten. “i want you to treat me like i matter for once.”

you storm past him without another word, but you don’t make it past the threshold of your bathroom before michael grabs your forearm. his grip isn’t painful, yet it’s tight enough that you’re unable to go anywhere. he pulls your body until you’re directly in front of him.

even when you’re so close to him, you still don’t look him in the eye. you don’t know if you’d break down or if your irritation would flare up even more upon making eye contact with him.

“you think you don’t matter to me?”

“you don’t treat me like i do.”

he doesn’t say anything in response. you look at him for the first time since you’ve entered your bedroom. he looks torn, as if he’s distraught yet in disbelief at the same time. it’s like he couldn’t fathom the idea of you thinking you’re unimportant to him, and just the thought of it disheartens him.

“you mean everything to me,” he admits. he keeps his hand on your forearm and places the other on your lower back. he pulls your body even closer to him than you were before.

“it doesn’t feel like it,” you mutter. “it feels like everything else is more important to you.”

“nothing is more important than you. not my songs, not anything else.”

you can’t help the grin that finds its way to your face. hearing your boyfriend ease everything you’ve been worrying about for the past few weeks was a dreamlike experience.

“‘m sorry i made you feel like you didn’t matter, mama,” he apologizes.

“‘s okay. i’m sorry for making it a big deal.”

“but it is a big deal. how you feel will always be a big deal.”

at this point, his hand had dropped your forearm and both his arms were wrapped around your lower back. he held you so tightly, you wondered if he thought you’d disappear if his grip faltered.

“‘m, so sorry. let me make it up to you.”

your eyes flit to his lips and he takes the initiative to kiss you. his lips are hot, yet soft when they land on yours. his palms come up to cup your face and you lean into them, as always.

his lips travel from yours to the base of your throat, leaving airy kisses following his descent. “so pretty,” he sucks on the base of your neck.

“please, mikey,” you whine.

he pulls back to fully look at you. “please what, mama?”

“please. i want you.”

you don’t need to say anything else. michael takes your hand and leads you from your bathroom to the bedroom. he doesn’t stop moving until he has you lying on his bed and he’s towering over you.

“so pretty f’me,” he says, looking down at you.

you’re a mixture of moans and sweet nothings until you’re bare underneath him, robe thrown into some corner of your room.

you reach for michael’s pants, but he beats you to it. he pulls down his pants and boxers in one movement, closing his fist around himself.

your breath caught in your throat as michael aligned himself to you and nudged the head of his dick against your opening. he was big, and no matter how many times both of you had sex, he took some time getting used to.

“fuck,” he groaned into your neck.

you could feel your heart pounding rapidly in your chest. hell, you could practically hear the sound of your own heartbeat crystal clear.

“you can take it.” michael begins to inch himself inside of you.

michael grips your hips as he pushes deeper into you until he bottoms out. he was stretching you to a point that felt like it should’ve been painful, but you only felt filled.

his eyes were glassy, glazed and his breath was ragged. he dropped his forehead to meet yours. at this point, your breaths were a disorderly mingle of desperation and erotica.

he moved inside of you, just hardly thrusting. it made your entire body clench around him until you could feel every pulse of his dick inside of you.

michael groaned, and the noise was harsh-sounding and out of control. his grip strains on your hips as if he’s trying to ground himself, yet getting lost in you simultaneously.

“jus’ needed my attention, right mama?”

you nod in agreement, not trusting your words to come out as anything except unintelligible. “all i needed,” your breath caught halfway through the last word.

michael pulls out and then pushes back in. he’s moving at a tentative, careful pace at first. in the span of a few seconds, his thrusts shift from hesitant to accelerated and brisk.

he piles into you, again and again, rubbing inside you. against you, forcing pleasure to course throughout your entire body.

“you like that?” his voice is raspy and his breath is hot against the shell of your ear.

you couldn’t answer. your fingernails dug into michael’s back, breaking skin and undoubtedly leaving scars. pressure built inside you, swelling and engrossing.

with every thrust, you can feel yourself nearing your climax. his thrusts become erratic and uncontrollable, and you can tell he’s nearly at the same point that you are.

his grip on your hips falters and he cums inside you with a groan. he continues to thrust into you, sloppy and uncontrolled, until you’re sent over the edge with a cry of his name.

neither of you says anything for a moment. you’re focused on catching your breath and the mess of fluids between you. he pulls out of you and you whine at the loss of contact.

“i’ll be here more, baby. i promise,” he vows.

“pinky?” you hold your pinky out to him for him to promise. it’s a juvenile thing, but it means the world to you.

“bae, don’t rush me. there’s no such thing as being late to a party ‘n we’ll get there when we get there,” you asserted.

“if it started an hour ago and you still ain’t finished getting ready, so there’s definitely such a thing as being late. and you look good so i don’t know why you goin’ through so many damn outfits,” he replies.

“thank you, bae. i gotta make sure i’m lookin’ extra good, though, y’know?”

“who you tryna look good for?”

“every nigga in sight,” he makes a sound of disapproval. “nobody but you, obviously.”

after checking out your outfit for the third time, you decide it’s cute enough to wear for tonight. you make sure you have all of your essentials before leaving—your purse, phone, and j initial necklace.

“okay, i’m ready.”

“finally,” jermajesty mutters.

you decide to chose peace tonight, and you don’t comment on his response. any other night, you’ve smacked him upside his head or chewed him out, but being a loving partner was always an option too.

the drive party isn’t long, only being fifteen minutes. and being with jermajesty makes it feel like time is going by quicker than it actually is. you’re in front of your friend's house before you could have your pre-party debrief about who’d be there, drama between everyone, and whatever else you talked about before arriving at a function.

“‘n don’t be disappearing every five minutes,” jermajesty states as he opens the car door for you.

“i don’t even be goin’ nowhere.”

“mhm. ‘cause last time we went out, you disappeared and i found you dancing on top of the bar with your lil’ friend,” he articulated.

“that was a one-time occurrence,” you argued, pushing the front door open.

you’re instantly greeted by the noise of bass- boosted music playing from an unreliable speaker and a lot more people than you expected to be there. you want for jermajesty to be by your side before taking hold of his hand. there was absolutely no way you’d be navigating this house without him by your side.

people are crowding the kitchen, living room, and are spilling out into the backyard, not to mention the people you saw in the front yard when you were walking in. “this is a lot,” you complain. you’re not even if jermajesty could hear you over the resounding music.

“i got you though, baby.”

you walk through the house until you settle somewhere in the kitchen. you wanted to start this night off with a shot, just to be an ounce of liquor in your system.

“‘n don’t be drinking too much either,” your boyfriend comments from next to you.

you down your shot of tequila, ignoring him despite the fact that he was right. you tended to drink beyond your limits whenever you went out and it always led to unbelievable story times from your friends and a severe hangover in the morning.

“okay, let’s go,” you take his hand once again.

you walk deeper into the house until you finally spot one of your friends. you drag jermajesty until the two of you are in front of her.

“oh my gosh, hi!” she greets you, pulling you into her warm embrace.

“hey, boo! how have you been?”

“i’m living. guess who got broken up with on her birthday?”

you gasp, slapping her shoulder in reply to her words. “i know you’re lying. tell me everything.”

you and your friend quickly get lost in conversation, leaving jermajesty to either stand awkwardly behind you or find something to do. he opts to find something else to do, quick og telling you that he’s leaving you alone before he departs.

you don’t pay much attention to his whereabouts because you’re so immersed in the deliberation you’re having with your friend. she tells you about her ex-boyfriend and the job she just started. you tell her about jermajesty and how your career as an influencer had taken off.

you and she talk for so long that you almost forget you’re at a party. you had shots to take and a boyfriend to dance with, so you bid your friend farewell.

“imma see you later. text me so we can plan something!” your tell her.

“i will. i love you!”

“i love you too!”

no that you’re no longer engrossed in the conversation that you were having with your friend, you have to find jermajesty. you didn’t even know where to start because the house was so spacious and there were so many people occupying it, but he couldn’t have gone too far. he was the same one who told you not to disappear every five minutes, so you’d be damned if he just disappeared on you.

you push through the scorching crowd of bodies in search of your boyfriend. amidst your search, you hear him laugh aloud only confirming that you were heading in the right direction.

“shit. my bad,” you apologize as you collide into someone’s body.

it’s a man you’ve never seen before. he towers over, looking to be around five feet something, undeniably under jermajesty’s height. the most noticeable thing about him is his expression: he looks aggravated.

“get the fuck out of the way,” he sneers.

“i just said my bad, bro. it was an accident,” you snarl back.

now, the man was doing too much. he’s crowding you and disturbing your personal space. they weren’t many places you could flee to given the compact nature of the house you were in.

“don’t let that shit happen again.”

you were beginning to get overwrought. you never acted quickly enough or made sensible decisions in situations like this. you were very non-confrontational, especially when the person confronting you was twice your size.

“you good?”

hearing jermajesty’s voice from behind the man was adjacent to seeing the pearly white gates of heaven open in front of you. you’d never been more grateful to hear him speak than you were at the moment.

“yeah, i’m chillin’. she was jus’ in my fucking way,” the man scowls.

“nigga, i wasn’t talking to you. you good, baby?” jermajesty looks directly past the man and to you.

you nod in response, not completely trusting your voice to sound anything but distraught. the entire encounter had you perturbed and you weren’t exactly sure how to navigate the aftermath of a situation like this. the vibrant party resumes around you and it’s like not a single person noticed the quarrel you just had.

the man scoffs. he has the nerve to scoff as if jermajesty had said something distasteful. like he wasn’t the one who was about ready to hassle you because you accidentally bumped into him in a sea of bodies.

“that shit is weak,” the man mutters before he starts to walk away from both of you.

“bro, don’t let me hear you say shit else about my girl,” jermajesty avers.

the man says something under his breath, presumably something slick. but, he doesn’t say anything to you nor jermajesty so you don’t worry about it too much.

“you good?” he turns his full attention onto you.

“yeah, that jus’ caught me off guard,” you admit.

“mhm,” he hums, being the one to take hold of your hand this time, “you tryna leave?”

“no,” you say hastily, “we jus’ got here. i’m not tryna leave early.”

he chortles at your words. “aight, baby. i won’t argue with you tonight, but ian lettin’ you go nowhere,” he assures.

“my man is so protectiveee,” you gush, leaning into his side, “you really just told a nigga for me.”

jermajesty rolls his eyes, yet his unearthing smile betrays his authentic feelings. having him step in for you because he could sense your discomfort, and he handled the situation in a way that the man would definitely not be coming back.

“let’s go somewhere else, baby. ion want you out of my sight.”

“but you’re the one who left me,” you remark.

“‘cause you and your friend were taking forever. i won’t do that shit no more.”

you take his hand without further discussion, leading him deeper into the house while actively avoiding the man from earlier. jermajesty stays by your side the entire night—which he would’ve done anyway, but especially after the incident earlier in the night.

“her in the pink,” he points in your direction, discreet enough that you wouldn’t see, yet obvious enough for his stylist to gauge who he was talking about.

“oh, her. she’s new to the model industry, but i’ve heard that she’s really good. she’s a pretty girl.”

michael stays silent, eyes trained on you and your makeup artist. you were getting your makeup done for a shoot, but he couldn’t help but stare.

he’s never seen you before, since his stylist said you’re new to modeling. but you were drop-dead gorgeous. caramel skin, hair cascading down your back, and deep brown, dark eyes.

“she’s really nice, though. offered to pay for whoever wanted coffee earlier,” his stylist continues.

he nods his head in recognition, yet she still doesn’t respond to her. his eyes stay on you for so long that it catches him off guard when you eventually look at him.

he diverts his eyes immediately, embarrassed that the woman he didn’t even know had caught him staring. he hears you giggling and whispering to your makeup artist. and then he hears both of you giggling, barely suppressing your laughter.

embarrassed was an understatement. let the ground open up beneath him and swallow him whole. you noticed him but at what cost?

that was three years ago. and now, you and michael were officially dating. disregarding your awkward, yet cute first encounter, your relationship was nothing short of blissful.

as of now, you sat on the bathroom counter while michael got ready to go to some event. you weren’t sure about the details of it, but it wasn’t important enough that your boyfriend was stressing over every small detail.

from his hair to his bedazzled suit jacket, he wanted every aspect of his outfit to be ideal. you couldn’t judge him too much because you were the same way whenever you had a shoot. you couldn’t be anything less than flawless.

“you sure you don’t wanna come with me, baby?”

michael had halted his tirade, now leaning his back against the bathroom wall across from you. his hair was tousled in a way that came from him running his hands through it one too many times. his eyes were watching you like they always were, like you were the most intriguing thing in a room.

“yes, i’m sure. i need a day at home for once,” you respond.

“how about i stay home with you then?”

you make a face that you could only assume comes off as apprehensive. he couldn’t seriously be considering staying home from a press event just because you didn’t feel like accompanying him. that would be a horrible look for his image, and it would somehow reflect your character because the media loved to drag women for no good reason.

“so, that’s actually not an option. the media will drag you through the mud if you don’t show up for this.”

michael sighs in response. he knows you’re being logical, but he lets all logic go out the window when it pertained to you. he didn’t care what the press would have to say about him skipping an event where his attendance was guaranteed if he was able to stay at home with you.

with you, he wouldn’t have to worry about appearances or putting on a front for the cameras. he’d be able to live in serenity, if only for a few hours, when he was alone with you.

“baby, just go with me. please,” he pleads.

and he almost gets you with the word please, but you refuse to let your stance falter. “‘m so tired. you’d go by yourself any other time.”

“this will be incredibly boring if you’re not there with me.”

you huff in response, though there’s only mild irritation behind it. you brace your hands on the counter next to you before you hop off of it. you walk past michael and out of the bathroom with the intention of going to your bed.

you were tired and determined to lie down without having your boyfriend persistently bother you about this damn press event. you would not let his pleading convince you to do anything that’s not sleeping all day.

“baby,” he’s trailing behind you before you can fully step into the bedroom, “i’ll get you whatever you want if you go with me.”

that’s enough to make you turn around to look at him. you both knew that the easiest way to get you to do something was the promise of shopping.

“whatever i want?”

michael takes a step closer to you. he rests his hands on your waist before he pulls you flush against him.

you put both your hands around his neck, moving your body impossibly closer to his. your body slotted perfectly against his, as if he were made for you.

“yes. anything in the world that you want,” he swears.

“even a dress that costs you three thousand?”

he laughs, dipping his head before he responds. “if that’s all you want, baby.”

an hour and a half later, michael’s finally arriving at the press event with you beside him. he was an hour late, but it didn’t matter if you were there with him.

he could already envision the questions that reporters would be probing him with. “michael, what caused you to be late tonight?” or “is your girlfriend the reason you were so late?”

none of that mattered when you were here with it. not watching from your box television at home, but actually present with him.

“you look so pretty f’me,” he smooths a hand down your dress, stopping on your lower back.

“thank you, mikey,” you beam up at him.

1981, encino, california

“i’m going out for a walk,” you holler to your father, leaving out before you have the chance to hear his response.

you had been living in california for two weeks and one of your favorite things to do by far was to walk around your neighborhood, especially at night. it was quiet and dark, and there was never anyone present to interrupt your designated alone time.

you walked without a destination in mind, simply allowing your feet to take you wherever. the only sound you could hear in the dead of night was your own footsteps and breathing. it was the kind of silence you basked in, appreciated because you knew it was something so sacred.

walking past michael jackson felt a little surreal. you knew he lived in your neighborhood, but actually seeing him in person was a completely different experience.

“hey,” he greets you before you can fully walk past him.

“hi.”

“you just moved here, right?”

the attention to detail made you feel some type of way. but you wouldn’t allow yourself to fawn over something so insignificant. anybody would notice if someone new moved in their neighborhood, especially when the neighborhood was san fernando valley.

“yeah. me and my dad moved some weeks ago.”

“i’m michael,” he introduces himself and you almost laugh in his face.

“i’m aware,” you quip.

“my bad. it’s out of habit,” he laughs awkwardly.

“it’s fine. ‘s something that makes you feel normal.”

he laughs again, but this time it’s genuine. “you get it. makes me feel like a regular person instead of a singer.”

“my dad’s the same way. he still introduces himself as if he isn’t one of the biggest producers right now,” you boast.

“you’ll do anything to feel normal when you always have the spotlight on you.”

you smile at that, a sorrowful yet understanding one. “i know how you feel. i’m here if you ever need someone to talk to.”

he smiles in return, yet his is a mirthful one. “i might take you up on that.”

“well,” you start walking again, “it was nice to officially meet you, michael. hopefully i’ll be seeing you around soon.”

“you will. and it was nice to meet you too.”

you walk away with a pep in your step, and you hope michael isn’t looking at you anymore so he doesn’t notice. not only did you make your first friend in california, the friend in question was the one and only michael jackson.

1984, encino, california

ever since you first met michael in person a few years ago, you’ve only grown closer to him. you accompanied him to the studio whenever he was recording a song and he hung out at your house whenever your father wasn’t home, which was quite often.

he was the closest friend you’d ever had, in illinois and in california. you found yourself constantly confiding in him or just seeking out his presence. to call him your best friend was an understatement.

today was one of those days when you were hanging out in your house. your father said he’d be out for a few days and you didn’t care enough to question him about his whereabouts.

you sat with your back against your headboard and a book in your lap. michael was lying down next to you, his lanky body taking up entirely too much space on your queen-sized bed.

the room was mostly silent, save for the 1960’s aretha franklin record you had playing on your vinyl. you and michael would hold small conversations here and there, but your bedroom was quiet for the most part.

your friendship was so fervent that you were able to hang out in silence and feel absolute. just spending time in one another’s presence was more than enough.

“baby, pay attention to me.”

“don’t call me that,” you grumble. “and i told you to bring something to keep yourself busy before you came over.”

“but i wanna talk to you.”

you refused to let yourself flush at such simple words. of course he’d want to talk to you, he’s your best friend and he came over with the sole purpose of hanging out with you. however, you couldn’t deny the fact that his words made you feel giddy inside.

“we’re talking right now, mikey. now can i go back to reading my book?”

“y’know that’s not what i mean, baby. i wanna talk to you.”

that pet name again. the name “baby,” as if you and michael were in an established relationship. you hated how it made you feel like michael might actually be showing romantic interest in you.

you huff and mark the page you’re on before shutting your book and placing it on your bedside table. you shift your body so you’re looking down to where he’s lying. you felt obligated to give him every ounce of your attention before he started bugging you endlessly.

he reveals a dopey smile at the fact that he now has your full attention. “you’re so pretty.”

“stop talking like that,” you chide.

“i mean it. why don’t you ever take me serious when i compliment you?”

you roll your eyes at his question because the answer should be obvious. he’s a pop star who has women swooning over him on a daily basis. so why would you take him seriously?

“‘cause you probably say that stuff to every woman that looks your way,” you half-joke.

an incredulous look appears on his face. he looks offended at the fact that you would even think he was entertaining other women. “i don’t, though. why would i?”

“don’t act slow right now. you could literally have any woman you wanted. i don’t know why you’re playing in my face?”

“baby ‘m so serious about everything i say. why would i care about those other women when i have you?”

the look in his eyes was nothing short of sincere. he meant every word he was saying you to, yet you couldn’t bring yourself to fully believe him. your lives were so different that they could never coincide beyond friendship.

“i’m going back to my book. with all the love in my heart, don’t interrupt me with nonsense again,” you jest.

ever since that day in your bedroom, michael’s advances had only intensified tenfold. there were more pet names and flirting, and more fleeting touches that you dumbed down to friendliness.

he rested his hand on your thigh whenever you sat next to each other like it was an obligation. his hands momentarily rested on your waist whenever he moved past you. everything he was starting to do was making you question whether he meant everything he said the other day.

but you couldn’t imagine yourself with someone who has amassed such popularity. such, your father was a well-known and respected man. but he kept you out of the spotlight for the most part, so you’d feel majorly foreign in michael’s world.

your thoughts are interrupted by a knock on your front door. you don’t have to look through the peephole to know it was the man who had been consuming your thoughts over the past few days. since this was another occurrence where your father wasn’t home, you had no choice but to open the door.

you open the front door halfway and you’re greeted with michael’s smiling face. recently, he’s been looking nothing short of ecstatic every time he saw you.

“hi, mikey,” you greet while opening your front door wider, silently welcoming him into your home.

“hey, baby,” he graciously accepts your offer, walking into your house and locking the door behind him.

“what’s up?”

“i needa talk to you,” is all he says as he leads you to your bedroom. he’s frequented your house so often that he knew the short route to your room like the back of his hand.

“is it about a song? ‘cause if it is, you should probably wait for my dad to come back home. y’know he’s better with that kind of stuff.”

“‘s not about a song,” he leads both of you to your bed. he takes a seat on the edge and you follow after him, doing the same.

“mikey, you’re making me nervous,” you gauchely laugh.

“why don’t you take me seriously?” he asks abruptly.

“what?”

“why don’t you take me seriously?” he repeats.

“what are you talking about?”

“every time i flirt with you, you brush me off like you don’t take me serious. you tell me not ‘joke like that’ or you look at me weird whenever i call you baby or pretty. why don’t you take me seriously?”

after his small tirade. you can’t find it within yourself to make eye contact with him. your eyes stay fixed on your fidgeting hands in your lap. but, you can feel michael’s gaze on the side of your face, as if he didn’t plan on looking away any time soon.

“mikey,” you sigh “i think we’re just too different.”

he huffs out a laugh shortly before realizing that you’re serious. “different? we’re living in the same california neighborhood,” he exclaims.

you sign out of frustration, he wasn’t understanding what you were trying to convey to him. “it’s not about the neighborhood, though. you’re literally michael jackson and i’m just here because my father happens to be a successful producer. we’re two different sides of the same spectrum.”

his face falls at your words. and for once in your entire friendship, michael realizes how dissimilar you think the two of you are. you didn’t always see yourself as a producer's daughter.

you saw yourself as a normal woman who just happened to get swept up into the territory they came with the music industry. you were a hit artist like michael was, and while it was something he never cared about, it had obviously been on your mind for some time.

michael would be damned if he let his music career be the thing preventing him from getting with you. he’s pause the release of his next album in this very moment if he meant he had a chance of being with you. it’s not something quincy would be that happy with, but nothing else mattered if michael was finally able to pursue you romantically after all these years.

“baby,” he sighs, “i don’t care about any of that. i don’t have about the popularity that comes with being me, i don’t care how different you think you are from, i only care about you. i don’t care about anything the paparazzi or tabloids have to say if i’m able to be with you.”

his eyes were gentle as he looked at you while you spoke. they carried the same heavyset emotions that his words did—sincerity and devotion.

“i don’t know,” you mutter.

uncertainties plagued your mind, no matter how much you tried to imagine yourself with michael. all you could think about was the publicity that came with everything. and, the women who were constantly throwing themselves at him. how could you date one of the most popular men in the world?

michael rubs both his hands down his face, but it’s not out of irritation. it’s out of frustration. frustration at the fact that you’re still hesitant to give him a chance. frustration at the fact that you think you’re too different from him.

“if it’s the media you’re worried about, i’ll keep you away from the cameras. i’ll make sure you never see any headlines in the tabloids,” michael knew he was promising what was nearly impossible, but he didn’t care.

“i want you. like, every part of you. i want you when you’re reading and ignoring me, and when you’re helping your father in the studio, and even when you’re not talking to me because i flaked on you and stayed in the studio overtime. but what do you want?”

his question catches you off guard. him asking you what you wanted combined with his lengthy confession was enough to leave you dumbstruck. just everything felt surreal in the moment.

“you.”

“that’s all you had to say, baby,” he smiles.

neither of you says anything for a long moment. you’re both content, showing euphoric smiles that say everything that has gone unsaid since you became friends.

“are you sure you’re gonna have time for me?” you can’t help but ask.

“yes, baby. i’ve been doing good with making time for you so far, haven’t i?”

“i don’t know. you’ve canceled on me a few too many times,” you say jestingly.

michael groans louder in response. “‘m sorry, baby. i had too much going on when i was recording thriller.”

“i’ll make all the time in the world for you, now. only you.”

your best friend was shirtless in bed next to you, only being dressed in grey sweatpants that were hanging low on his hips. looking at your own outfit, you come to realize that the shirt and boxers you’re wearing belong to jaafar.

you don’t have to be a genius to put the pieces together and realize that you and jaafar definitely crossed the line of your friendship last night. “what the fuck,” you mutter.

“what?” he asks, like his brain still hasn’t woken up yet.

“what the fuck,” you repeat yourself. this time it’s louder and the panic in your voice is evident.

you slept with your best friend last night. your friendship was definitely ruined and now you’re going to have to avoid him and his entire family. scratch your friendship being ruined, your entire life is now ruined.

“you good?” he questions, rushing to sit up due to the hysteria in your voice.

“no, i’m not good. what happened last night?”

his body relaxes upon hearing your question, like your worries are minuscule after all. “oh. we fucked while we were both drunk,” he responds coolly.

“please tell me you’re lying.”

jaafar has the nerve to laugh. he laughs as if the two of you weren’t in a crisis right now. “i’m so serious. you was all on me, girl.”

you groan and rub both your hands up and down your face. maybe if you try hard enough, you can erase the events of last night and act like your and jaafar’s friendship was normal again.

“ain’t nothing to be embarrassed about,” he pulls one of your arms down by your wrist, revealing half of your face. bashful. “i was all over you, too.”

you groan even louder because his words don’t make the situation any better. they do nothing to placate your nerves about sleeping with him.

“jaafar, our friendship is literally over now. i have everything to be embarrassed about,” you grumble.

“our friendship definitely is over,” you could die where you sat in his bed right now. “‘cause you gotta be mine. we can’t be friends after last night.”

you drop your other hand that was covering your face, fully looking at him for the first time since you woke up. he looked earnest, like he was completely serious about being with you.

it wasn’t like you didn’t believe him. but hearing your best friend that you’ve been harboring a crush on basically say that he wanted to be in a relationship with you wasn’t something to be taken lightly.

“you mean it?” you ask him meekly.

“of course i mean it. i want you as my lady.”

hearing him refer to you as his lady had you overly geeked, but you had to maintain whatever composure you had left. “oh, okay.”

neither of you says anything for a moment. mainly because you’re at a loss for words. you’re not exactly sure what the right thing to say is after semi-establishing your romantic relationship with what was once your best friend.

“sooo,” you drag out the word, “you my nigga now or what?”

your question produces a laugh from jaafar, like he wasn’t expecting you to ask in that manner. “yeah, i’m yours now.”

“cool. i’m finna go take a shower before i geek out even more,” you speak while untangling your lower half from the mess sheets and blankets.

jaafar doesn’t respond but he doesn’t have to because the weight of last night and this morning was enough. y’all fucked and now y’all are dating. what else is there to say?

the scalding hot shower you took was enough to somewhat sober you up and bring you to your senses. you must’ve had the time of your night last night, but you didn’t want to dwell on whatever possible bad decisions you made.

standing in the bathroom after your shower makes you realize how much you’ve already invaded jaafar’s space. your skincare is on the counter, alongside your toothbrush that’s beside his. you practically were attached to him by the hip, so maybe getting together was just inevitable.

afterwards, you return to jaafar’s room in just your towel to find him gone. you assumed he was downstairs with whoever else stayed over last night, so you began to get dressed.

since you spending the night wasn’t exactly planned, the only thing you’re able to find is a tank top you left at his place months ago and a pair of his sweatpants that were definitely too big for you.

you walk down the stairs to be greeted with the sight of jaafar and jermajesty talking. you don’t remember seeing him last night, but it wasn’t that out of the ordinary for him to be here.

as you round the kitchen counter to take a seat, you feel a pair of eyes on you. it’s not like they were burning a hole into you or anything, they were just there.

“them jaafar pants?” jermajesty questions you once you sit down.

you look down at the pants you’re wearing before looking up to his face. yeah, they were jaafar’s pants, but jermajesty wasn’t supposed to notice, let alone point it out.

“yeah. ion’ got no clothes over here for real,” you reply.

“what about what you had on last night?” he questions you again.

“why would i stay in my clothes that i was partying in?” you fire back.

jaafar laughs at your response, which causes both you and jermajesty to look at him. jermajesty looks as if he’s trying to put the pieces of some elaborate puzzle together.

he looks at your sweatpants, then at jaafar’s face, back to your sweatpants, and to jaafar’s face once again. the gears were definitely starting to turn in his head.

“oh, y’all hunching,” he concludes.

“bro what?”

“what?”

you and jaafar speak at the same time, which definitely doesn’t help your case. if jermajesty was skeptical beforehand, the two of you definitely confirmed his suspicions.

“nah ‘cause i thought it was chill when y’all went home together last night. but whole time, y’all wasn’t doing nothin’ but hunching.”

“first of all,” you start, turning your full attention to jermajesty, “i didn’t even see you at the party last night. you one lurking ass nigga,” you snap.

“that’s ’cause you was drunk out of yo’ mind,” he replies without hesitation.

“she wasn’t even that drunk last night,” jaafar interjects.

that causes jermajesty to roll his eyes. “and here this nigga go defending you ‘cause you let him fuck last night.”

“you ‘bout irritating as fuck. go home bro,” you complain.

jermajesty gets up immediately upon hearing your words. it was like he was waiting for the green light to leave ever since you came downstairs.

“you don’t gotta tell me twice. i’m not tryna have y’all fuck in the kitchen right next to me,” he says while grabbing his car keys.

“don’t be mad ‘cause you ain’t get none last night!” you tease him.

jermajesty says nothing in response, just unlocking the door and slamming it behind him. with just you and jaafar left, the room undeniably feels more tense than when jermajesty was just there.

“don’t mind him. he do the most,” jaafar apologizes.

“it’s cool. he wasn’t exactly wrong, either,” you flush.

“mhm,” he hums, looking down at you from where he stood across the counter, “he don’t know half of it.”

“yeah?”

“yeah. he don’t even know how bad i need you right now.”

you smile and look away from him, even though you’re the one who initially said jermajesty wasn’t wrong. it was just that hearing jaafar speak so lewdly made warmth spread throughout your entire body.

“don’t talk like that,” you mutter.

“why not? i mean it—“

“‘cause you just can’t,” you interrupt him.

however, it always seemed that michael could be wearing the most extravagant of looks and still finish getting ready in record time. but today, his outfit was fairly simple.

he wore a white button-up shirt with the first few buttons undone, a black suit jacket on top, and black suit pants to match. his outfit was so unadorned, yet you couldn’t help but notice how good he looked.

if it wasn’t his release party you were going to, you wouldn’t hesitate to jump on him and risk being late. but, you wanted to maintain professionalism and you knew michael wanted to look good in front of all his counterparts, so you kept your salacious thoughts to yourself. for now.

“baby, do y’know how much longer you’re gonna take?” your boyfriend questions you.

“i’m literally almost finished. all i have to do is put on my jewelry,” you respond, walking over to your dresser to locate your necklaces and bracelets.

it was the last thing you needed to complete your outfit. you wore a black off-the-shoulder trim dress that stopped near your ankles. it was complemented with black heels and black gloves that you knew you’d be taking off halfway through the night.

your jewelry was a combination of different pearls that michael had gifted you throughout the years. the off-white was the perfect contrast to your entirely black outfit. and the fact that your outfit was coordinated with michael’s was even better.

“okay,” you exclaimed, spinning around to face your boyfriend sitting on his bed, “i’m ready. what do you think?”

he says nothing at first. instead, opting to let his eyes trail up and down your figure. his eyes drank in every aspect of your outfit: the pearls, stiletto heels that he’ll be carrying by the end of the night, and the dress that hugged your body so perfectly.

still without saying a word, he gets up from his sitting position on the edge of the bed and walks closer to your standing form. the closer he gets to you, the more you start to become consumed by him.

he smelled oriental. warm, sweet, and the slightest bit spicy. and he towered over you, forcing you to crane your neck to look over him. he places both of his hands on the dresser behind you, getting impossibly closer to you.

“you’re gorgeous, my baby,” he murmured, even though you were the only two people in the room.

he moves one of the hands he has on the dresser behind you to your face, placing his hand on the side of your face. he looked at you with such adoration that you could melt where you stood and jump his bones all in one moment.

“thanks, mikey. you look good too.”

“just good?” he teases.

you look away from him, weakly pushing his chest in a frail attempt to get further away from him. the smallest of things he said made you shy, and you could tell your boyfriend basked in your reactions.

“we have to go before we’re late. and you were the one rushing me,” you acknowledged.

“i’d never rush you, baby. i know you like to take your time.”

you roll your eyes at the subtle dig at how long you take to get ready. “whatever. let’s go.”

he stops you before you’re able to slip past him and out of the bedroom. “can i have a kiss before we go?”

you smile at the fact that he still asks for a kiss despite the amount of time you’ve been together. you stand on your toes in an attempt to reach his height, and he meets you halfway as you press a chaste kiss to his lips. you weren’t too keen on ruining your lip gloss or getting lost in him at the moment.

you turn away from him, but you’re only able to make it a few steps before you feel his hands on your waist. he turns you around, immediately pulling you back into him. he kisses you again, but this time it’s an actual kiss.

his tongue invades your mouth and it’s like you can feel him everywhere. his hands are on your waist and his tongue is pressing against yours. you literally have to push him away from you to be able to breathe.

“you so pretty, baby.”

you rub your hands down your face, flustered due to his actions and his words. you don’t say anything for a moment because what is there to say after he kisses you like that and then compliments you?

“can we go before we’re late?” you ask.

michael smiles down at your abashed face, hands still resting on your waist. “whatever my baby wants.”

you walk away from him, finally free from the bedroom that you definitely would’ve been having sex in if you stayed there for another moment. you hear michael’s footsteps behind you and you don’t need to turn around to know that his eyes are transfixed on your ass.

my gosh, you think. you’re not making it halfway through the release party if he isn’t able to keep his hands to himself. you hope he’s able to control himself until you’re able to get home for the sake of his public image and your sanity.

“do we have everything?” you asks as you start unlocking the front door.

“mhm. i think your lip gloss might be a little messed up, though,” you don’t have to look at him to know that he’s smirking.

“and i wonder whose fault that is,” you reply, opening the front door.

you hear michael locking the front door behind you as you move towards bill’s car. as you approach his car, his mouth opens as if he’s about to say something yet he doesn’t.

michael approaches you from behind and you see bill’s eyes flit from you michael. he’s seemingly putting some kind of pieces together because a smirk adorns his face and he laughs.

“the two of you must’ve been having a good time,” bill quips.

you turn around to face michael and the first thing you notice is your lip gloss strewn across his lips. you assume yours is smudged or lacking from the fact that both michael and bill are now laughing.

to say you were embarrassed was an understatement. you were already flustered from what happened in michael’s bedroom. but someone close to both of you has an idea of it? you might as well be dead.

you make a futile attempt at ignoring them and slide into the backseat of bills car. without loitering for much longer, michael slides into the backseat next to you. bill walks around the car to the driver's seat and you can do nothing but pray for a normal car ride.

michael manages to keep his hands to himself for the majority of the car ride, only opting to rest his hand on your thigh. throughout the journey, he made comments here and there about how pretty you looked and how he couldn’t wait to have you all to himself when you got back home. but other than that, he was on his best behavior.

you arrived at the venue after about thirty minutes. it had a pleasant exterior, but it was a small place due to the fact that michael wanted his release party to be an intimate event.

he only invited those closest to him, wanting the celebratory event of his second solo album to be filled with people he held close to his heart. the closer you got to the venue, the more excited you got.

you and your boyfriend were celebrating the release of his album. it hadn’t dawned on you how much of a big deal this was until you were actually inside the venue.

it was packed with people close to both you and michael: his family, quincy, even paul mccartney. everything felt so private and personal, a room full of pride and noblesse.

“oh, baby,” katherine coos when she sees you, “you look so good.”

she pulls you into a hug that’s a little too tight, yet you say nothing because you’re just as happy to see her. “thank you. you look gorgeous yourself,” you compliment her.

she pulls back from you and lets her eyes roam your face. there’s a look of fondness adorning them that neither of you mention. then, she turns her attention to michael and pulls him into a hug that might’ve been ever tighter than the one she just had you in.

“how you gon’ hug her before me, ma?” michael half-jokes.

“boy hush,” she sways him whilst maintaining the hug, “you already know how proud i am of you. you done went and released another album. and you did it all without your father,” she beams.

that pulls a laugh out of you and michael. seeing people, especially his mother swelling with such pride at his work was enough to make both of you tear up.

katherine pulls back from the hug and smooths her hand down the arms of his suit jacket. she looks like she’d cry if she looked at michael for any longer.

“well, i’ll leave both of y’all to it. michael, go talk to your brothers. and don’t y’all do nothing too crazy,” she ends.

your face scrunches up at the innuendo behind her words, but you don’t think about it for too long. michael grabs your hand and begins to lead you towards his brothers, jermaine and tito. you had no clue where the rest of them were, but they tended to disperse when it came to events like this.

“michael!” jermaine called out before you even reached him, “man, i’m so proud of you.”

“you done dropped another album on us,” tito added.

“thank you,” michael replied, almost seeming bashful.

you smiled from where you were standing next to him. seeing him being praised for the album he worked so hard on made you so buoyant. he deserved all the praise in the world and more for the work he put into this release.

“but when you said ‘i can thrill you more than any ghoul would ever dare try’, what that meant?” jermaine asks.

you let out an incredulous laugh and you look away from jermaine. you didn’t even know how michael would respond to that question because you knew what the lyric meant. and you knew jermaine knew what the lyric meant and he was asking just to embarrass michael.

“you’re a dimwit.”

“man, i was jus’ asking,” jermaine responds, but the smirk on his face says that he had other intentions.

“but you look good,” jermaine says, turning his attention to you.

tito lets out a chuckle, but corrects himself after seeing the look on michael’s face. it’s nothing short of irritation and heavy annoyance.

“thank you jermaine,” you maintain your politeness, “y’all look good,” you signal between him and tito.

you feel michael’s grip tighten on your hand, yet you don’t say anything. both of you knew his brothers liked to flirt just because, so you never took them seriously. however, michael always seemed a little more than bothered when they would make a comment that was heavily suggestive or their eyes lingered on you for too long.

“mhm. thank you girl,” jermaine responds.

michael pulls you away from his brothers before you have the opportunity to say anything. “god, he’s annoying,” michael complains.

“he was jus’ being nice,” you mutter.

“baby, he was flirting with you right in front of me. his being nice is how i treat you daily,” he finally stopped at an area in the venue that wasn’t as crowded as the rest.

“you’re all for me. know that,” his hands find purchase on your waist and he pulls you flush against him. you feel him poking you from within his suit pants, and it flusters you beyond relief.

“mikey…” you whisper.

“‘m sorry baby. you jus’ look so pretty. everybody’s congratulating me on the album like i don’t have my biggest achievement next to me.”

you smile, rubbing your hands up and down the arms of your dress to calm your nerves. “thank you, mikey. but you should be proud of the album. you worked so hard on it and now it’s finally out.”

“mhm. gonna show me how proud you are when we get home?”

you whine and cover your face with your hands. the nerve of your boyfriend to be speaking so luridly while you’re in public! you would’ve slapped his chest or attempted to push him away if it wasn’t for your hands covering your face.

“can we go back to the party now?”

“of course, baby,” he removes his hands from your waist only to grab one of your hands once again. he leads you back to the party, having to push through crowds upon crowds of bodies.

overall, the release party turns out to be a huge success. with all of michael’s friends and loved ones present, it’s nothing but an event full of pride and adoration.

michael received more compliments on his album than you’ve heard in your entire life, and he had you by his side during the entirety of it. his hand stayed in yours or on your waist, and he barely let you out of his sight.

by the end of the night, your heels are in his hand like he thought they would be and his other hand won’t leave your waist. you’re bidding everyone farewell before you’re able to collapse in the backseat of bills car.

when you finally make it home, you’re halfway ready to pass out and halfway ready to take the hottest shower of your life. you’re so tired that walking up the stairs of your shared home feels like an absolute chore. just one look at your face and michael can see the exhaustion.

“i got you, baby,” he hooks his arms under both of your legs whilst still holding your heels in one of his hands. you wrap your arms around his neck and allow yourself to melt into his chest.

he’s so warm, he smells so good, and it feels like he’s the only thing in the house right now. there’s nowhere you’d rather be in his arms. well, you could be on him but you could settle for this right now.

he nudges open the door to the bedroom, and adjusts himself so he’s able to set your heels down while still carrying you. afterwards, he walks to your bed and sits down with you still in your arms.

you’re sat sideways on his lap and you can’t help but feel him against you. you just got to your shared bedroom, yet michael’s exuding arousal all without you actually doing anything to him. but you weren’t one to judge because you needed him just as bad right now.

“i need you, mikey,” you whine.

“yeah?” his hands tighten around your waist, “where d’ya need me?”

you whine again. you need him everywhere at the same time and it’s overwhelming, but in the best way. “i need you in me.”

michael’s breath hitches, but he says nothing in response. he begins to bunch your maxi dress up on your hips until he’s able to slide his hand up your thigh.

his hand inches further up, but it feels like he’s going at the slowest pace possible. “hurry up mikey, please.”

“my impatient baby. ‘s okay. i got you,” he runs his hand up your thigh until he’s right where you need him.

his hand comes into contact with your underwear, lacy with a bow, although he’s unable to see it. he can feel you seeping through the cotton and you don’t need to see his face to know it’s smug.

“this all for me, pretty?” he teases.

“all for you, mikey. need you so much right now.”

he hums in response, pulling your underwear down. he runs his fingers through your slick folds and revels in your moans every time he comes into contact with you.

he continues to tease you until his fingers are wet with your arousal. then, he eases one of his fingers into you. they’re so big and you’re tightening around him, unable to let out anything but moans.

his finger pumps in and out at a languid pace before he adds a second. the feeling of another one of his long, lanky fingers entering you makes you even louder. your fingers grip his shoulder in a fruitless attempt to ground yourself.

his once languid pace was quickening, and you feel stuffed with just two of his fingers inside of you. he curls them and it hits just the right spot to have you gripping his shoulders even tighter and moaning out his name.

“you’re the prettiest, baby,” michael murmurs.

you’re unable to respond. your head is thrown back and the only sound that’s coming out of is moans and nearly unintelligible strings of his name.

everything feels so good right now and when michael curls his fingers inside you even more, it’s exactly what sends you over the edge. you cum with a slight shake and silent scream, completely leaning into michael’s body.

“i got you, pretty baby,” he whispers to you as you come to.

you’re utterly exhausted and hyper aware of the mess you made on your dress and michael’s suit pants. this dress was a gift from michael and tonight was your first time wearing it, so you can’t help but be a little bummed at it being ruined.

“mikey, my dress is all fucked up now,” you complain.

“‘s okay, baby. i’ll get you another one. but lemme clean you up.”

“you like it, baby?” he asks.

“i’m obsessed with it,” you exaggerated, shifting to sit up from your lying position on his bed.

“you like it that much?” he hums, and you find it within your self-restraint to not comment on how good his voice sounded whenever he spoke in that low, sultry tone.

you fail to respond to him, only able to look at him from your sitting position on the edge of his bed. instead of maintaining eye contact, he looks away and continues to sift through his vinyls like he’s been doing for the past twenty minutes.

“you’re weird,” you mutter.

“what?”

“you won’t look at me,” he can’t see you, but he already knows there’s a look of mild irritation adorning your face.

“‘cause you’re too pretty, baby,” he coos.

you roll your eyes at his words, although you can’t deny the feeling of warmth that traverses through your body. michael was shy, yet he had a way with words that always seemed to render you speechless.

before you let yourself get too lost in his sweet talking, you remember what the topic was conversation originally was. “the chanel bag is to die for.”

“mhm, i hear you. you want it?” he questions you.

you laugh, automatically assuming he was joking. your smile falters as he turns around to face you and you notice the solemn look on his face. he was serious about this.

“mikey, that’s too much damn money. don’t joke like that,” you chided.

now, michael was the one rolling his eyes. “‘m not joking. y’know i’ll get you whatever you want, baby.”

“the purse is gorgeous but no, i don’t want it. well, i do want it. but i don’t want you spending that much money on me,” you complained.

“we both know i can do more than afford it. let me spoil you,” his luscious voice combined with the endearing look in his eyes was nearly enough to convince you. but, you were determined not to let your boyfriend spend what you saw as ludicrous amounts of money on you.

“jus’ because you can afford doesn’t mean you have to buy it. but i love you for the offer.”

“i love you too, baby. the offer still stands if you ever wanna let me buy it for you,” he teases.

two days later, michael had invited you to hang out at his house like you usually did. the only thing different about this time was that nobody was home.

for the first time in ages, there was no joseph, katherine, jermaine, or anybody. it would just be you in michael alone in his encino mansion. you couldn’t help the lurid thoughts that filled your mind at the thought of you being home alone with your boyfriend for the first time.

arriving at his house, you let yourself in with the key that katherine gave you months ago. she claimed that you were “a part of the family” and you could bear to turn down her offer.

absolute silence was the first, and only thing you noticed when you walked into the house. there was no arguing, no joseph screaming, not even any music playing from a random room in the house.

“hello?” you call out.

nothing. no response from your boyfriend. “mikey?” you call out again. yet you still didn’t hear anything.

without saying anything else, you walk up the stairs to his bedroom. the closer you get to his room, the more you still fail to hear the faintest of noises.

you slowly push his bedroom door half open and you don’t see him. instead, you’re greeted with the exact black chanel jersey classic purse you spoke about mere days ago.

with its quilted exterior, black and gold chain, and gold-plated hardware, it might’ve just been the prettiest thing you’ve ever seen. seeing your dream purse in the flesh was enough to render you speechless and leave you frozen.

amidst your admiration for the bag, you failed to notice michael appearing from behind the bedroom door. he had a somewhat smug look on his face like he was more than proud of himself for securing the thing you spoke so highly of.

“you like it, baby?”

“mikey!” you shout, throwing your arms around his neck to engulf him in a hug. “i love it so much, oh my gosh!”

he stumbles back for a moment due to the force with which you threw your body against his. after regaining his composure, he wraps his arms around your lower waist. his hands were splayed dangerously close to your ass, but you couldn’t find yourself to care in the moment.

“michael!” you shout once again. “it’s so fuckin’ cute,” you gushed.

his arms tighten around their place on your waist. then, he walks both of you back to his bed before he takes a seat on the edge of it. he drags you so you’re standing between his legs and his hands rest on your waist.

“you really like it, baby?” he asks.

“mikey,” you place both your hands on his shoulders, “i could kiss you so bad right now. that’s how much i like it.”

“you can’t jus’ say things like that,” he turns his head away from you.

“i mean it. i was jus’ talkin’ about how much i liked this bag a few days ago and you jus’ went and bought it! even though i told you not to,” you mutter the last part.

“i wanted to make you happy,” he turns his head back to you, gaze meeting yours.

you could’ve died where you were standing purely because of the look in his eyes. it was a mix of gratification and altruism. it was like he knew you liked the gift, yet he needed to hear you say it.

“i’m more than happy, mikey. much more,” you finish your sentence with a kiss on his cheek.

he scrunches his nose as your lips come into contact with his face. that only fuels you to continue your tirade on his face. you kiss his cheek, forehead, chin, and eventually his lips.

in the meantime, michael isn’t doing anything but laughing and tightening his grip on your waist. eventually, he flops back onto his mattress and takes you with him.

the two of you are a mix of laughter and the sounds of kisses being placed on michael’s face, purse long forgotten on the bed. you can’t remember the last time you’ve been this content with your life.

“i love you, baby.”

“you know i love you more,” you gush.

you sit up from where you were lying on your boyfriend's chest, and now, you’re straddling him. the atmosphere in the room shifted from what was once playful to something you couldn’t quite place. something much more tense.

“you mean it, baby?” he asks, hands tightening around your waist once again.

you run your hands under his shirt, manicured nails skimming the expanse of his toned stomach. he sucks in a breath at the feeling of your nails on his abdomen.

“of course i mean it.”

“you wanna show me how much you mean it?”

you don’t offer him a verbal response. instead, you rock your hips against his. michael groans at the contact, and it’s a low provocative sound that immediately goes to your core.

you continue your pace, and michael guides you whenever you begin to falter in the slightest. a mess of fluids is beginning to manifest where your hips meet and the room is beginning to get increasingly hot, but at this point, you’re physically unable to stop.

“baby,” he murmurs, “‘m not gonna—“

you rock your hips in a particularly salacious way that leaves him speechless. he’s unable to let out anything but a string of moans and whispers of your name. you’re no better, only being able to whine and whimper “michael!” here and there.

“i’m so close, mikey,” you keen.

“me too, baby. ‘m not gonna last long if you keep moving like that.”

you’re on fire and a wet, sticky mix of both you and your boyfriends' fluids. you’ve given up on your set pace and now, you’re just desperate to move as fast as you can. you’re chasing the friction and satisfaction that you get whenever your core makes contact with his bulge.

michael is a mess of moans and heavy breaths with a grip on your waist that would’ve been painful under any other circumstances. he’s frequently bucking his hips up into you, seemingly chasing the same friction as you.

“you’re so pretty, my baby,” he compliments.

“thank you, mikey. you make me feel so good,” you whimper.

he hums in response, and a distinctly rough thrust into your clothed core is enough to send you both over the edge. your orgasm shakes your entire body and it takes you a few moments to come to your senses.

when you do, michael is still underneath you, chest heaving with each heavy breath he takes. it’s a sticky and slightly uncomfortable spot where both of your hips meet. you’re hot and you know you’re probably sweating as much as he is, yet the only thing that’s on your mind right now is him.

you lean down to where he’s lying and connect your lips to his. the kiss is messy and you can’t feel anything but his tongue against yours and his hands on your waist traveling down to your ass.

you pull away from him in order to catch your breath and he’s already looking at you. wide-eyed and glossed over with swollen lips. you could actually fuck him right now.

“you’re so handsome, mikey,” you swoon.

“thank you, pretty girl. i love you so much.”

“i love you too. ‘n i need you so bad right now,” your hands trail down to the waistband of his sweatpants whilst you speak.

his breathing picks up and for a moment, he says nothing in response to you. “that wasn’t enough?” he asks you.

you almost laughed because no, dry humping wasn’t nearly enough. you needed to have him inside you or you were sure you’d go insane.

“‘s never enough. i need you nowwww,” you drag out the word.

“then take what you need, baby. i’ll buy you every chanel purse in existence if it means i get you like this.”

yelena once said to you “i really don’t get what you see in him.”

“you don’t have to. i do,” you responded without missing a beat.

what people often failed to take into account was that the way he presented himself wasn’t the same as when he was behind closed doors. when it was just you and him, bucky became the sappiest person you knew.

bucky laid on top of you, smothering your body with his. while he wasn’t laying his entire weight onto you, it was enough for you to feel like you were mere minutes away from suffocation. every squirm of yours was met with either a grunt or readjustment from him.

“bucky,” you make a futile attempt to push him off you, “i have to be at work in an hour. get off me.”

he doesn’t dignify you with a verbal response, instead opting to tighten his arms around your waist. it’s not until you continuously bang your fist against his flesh arm that he starts to grasp how serious you might be.

“do you really have to go in today?” is the first thing he’s said—asked all morning.

you let out a laugh that’s between incredulous and humor, “yes, i have to go in, baby. i’d prefer for my boss not to scold me today.”

“when are you gonna quit, doll?”

his words ignite you to begin hitting his arm once again. if you didn’t start getting ready for work in the next few minutes, you’d let his words coax you into calling out of work at the last minute. and the last thing you needed was to miss a shift after continuously coming in late (all thanks to your obnoxiously, yet endearingly clingy boyfriend).

“i’ll ban you from my apartment if you don’t get off me, like, right now.”

at your words, his grip on your waist instantaneously loosens and he rolls off of you, finally giving you the freedom to breathe. with his weight lifted from you, you sit up and swing your feet off your side of the bed.

you now had fifty minutes before you were due for your shift at work. time was of the essence, and you basically had to rush your entire morning routine if you wanted to make it into work on time. you speed walk to your bathroom just outside of your bedroom, beginning your routine like it’s a rush against time.

if you utilized the little time you had, you should be able to brush your teeth, do your skincare, get dressed, and maybe make something for breakfast. you mourn you lost, thought grateful it was lost in bed with bucky. you still could’ve been doing everything in leisure, rather than rushing, as you were doing now as you brushed your teeth.

“you know,” you hear bucky begin speaking from your room, “i could provide for both of us if you quit your job.”

you audibly groan “i’m not quitting my job so you can smother me when you’re not on missions and have me miserable for the rest of the week time,” you speak after spitting out the remaining toothpaste in your mouth.

you say nothing more as you move to start your skincare, but you hear the floorboards creak as bucky approaches the bathroom. when you fail to hear him enter the room, you divert your eyes to the door to find him already looking at you.

“you look so pretty, baby,” he asserts, moving to stand behind you.

his wraps his arms around your waist, similar to when the both of you were in bed. except his tone, his grip was throttling and his entire body weight wasn’t pressed into your figure.

with how touchy he’s been this morning, you would’ve assumed he was going away for a week-long mission. however, that was quite far from the truth. he’d be here when you returned from your nine-to-five shift, let him not be called for an impromptu mission.

“bucky, i love you so much,” you begin your spiel.

“then call off of work and stay with me,” he replies without a beat.

“but if i want to get into work on time and look semi-professional, i need you to get off meee,” you drag out your last word.

yet, your words prove fruitless because bucky only keeps his arms around your waist. he rests his head on top of yours as if you weren’t in a race against time, desperately needing him away from you to get to your place of work on time.

“‘m gonna miss you when you leave, doll,” you would’ve said he was pouting if it wasn’t bucky you were talking about.

“can’t you go visit yelena or walker? i’m sure they miss you.”

a scowl finds residence on his face upon hearing those words. he seemingly loathed the people he worked with and would much rather waste his time waiting for you to return from work in your apartment than see the formerly mentioned people.

“or not,” you whisper, more to yourself than him, before capping the moisturizer you’d just finished using.

completing the next step of your morning routine with forty minutes left to spare, you move to your bedroom to get dressed. between beginning and finishing your skincare, bucky’s arms loosened around your waist. however, he still trailed close behind you as you rummaged through your closet in search of an outfit.

as a librarian, you took pride in manufacturing outfits that emulated your career path. you loved dressing cozy and warm, the exact kind of outfits that people looked at and immediately associated with the stocked shelves and the smell of old books.

you threw random garments of clothing onto your shared bed in hopes of finding the exact kind of outfit you had conjured in your mind. meanwhile, bucky just stood and watched you. he didn’t say a word, leaving you to assume he just yearned to be in your presence before you left for the day.

this was the exact thing that people didn’t quite understand about him. he was more than the gruff, off putting person he presented himself as to the rest of the world. he was your boyfriend—touchy and slightly overcrowding your presence.

he wasn’t always an asshole to everyone, though he was to most people. he was the sweetest to you, and it was a concept that most people couldn’t fathom. however, you could. it was the reality of your life and it was most definitely fathomable.

amidst your thoughts, you’d found the perfect outfit. a long-sleeve white button-up shirt, complemented by the form-fitting navy blue sweater you’d wear on top of it. you’d also found dark-wash blue jeans and your shoes were something you’d worry about on your way out. everything about your outfit screamed librarian that doesn’t dress like an old lady!

you have to push bucky back a little bit by his chest to be able to comfortably change your clothes. overcrowding your presence, as you’ve previously stated. as much as you wanted to complain, having a six-foot winter soldier turned avenger be enthralled by you was something you felt blessed with.

“doll, y’know i make enough to support both of us, right?” he questions you.

“buckyyyy,” you all but whine, “please let me be independent and keep my job. you know i love what i do.”

he hums in response, and you assume he’s contemplating his proposition and your words. as much as you’d love to basically have him as a sugar daddy, you loved the self-sufficiency that came with having your own job.

“‘m gonna miss you so much while you’re gone doll,” he says while wrapping his arms around your waist once more.

at this point, there’s nothing you can do except allow him to envelop you in his arms. you’ve been with him long enough to be accumulated he’s had his hands all over you this entire morning, and at this point, you’re beginning to accept your fate.

“i’m gonna miss you too, baby. but i’ve already told you to visit yelena or walker.”

“everyone in that tower is insufferable. they aren’t you.”

“i think you should at least try to be friends with the people you’re working with. you all are the new avengers after all.”

bucky rolls his eyes at the name, hating how it sounds. the “new avengers” was a name he never wanted to claim, yet it sounded less insufferable coming from you.

“yeah? i’ll do it jus’ for you.”

you had twenty minutes before you had to be into work, ten to spare before you had to leave your apartment. “bucky, i have to go. like right now.”

he lets out a sigh. quiet and almost sounding defeated, like he was accepting the unfortunate reality of you having to go to work. it seemed like for the first time this entire morning, he’d finally peel his frame off of your back and allow you to fluidly go on with your day.

you rush around the apartment gathering everything else you needed: your purse, car keys, shoes, and a promise ring bucky got you mere months into your relationship. you couldn’t go anywhere without it. it was your lucky charm!

all while you scramble to collect your belongings before you’re late, bucky watches you, leaning against a pillar in your apartment. eyes heavy-lidded and gaze smoldering, he watches you with an intensity that would’ve made you melt if you weren’t worried about being tardy to work.

before leaving, you rush to bucky. “bye baby, i love you.”

you offer him a chaste kiss before leaving, and bucky basks in it before accepting your departure. he’d mourn the loss of your presence until the very second you returned to him.

“bucky, please don’t get me any more gifts for the rest of the week,” you huffed, exasperated.

you survey the assortment of items in your bed, a miscellaneous mix of jewelry, designer bags, and clothing. chanel purses you’ve only ever seen people on tiktok flaunt, swarovski necklaces, and the most chic versace dresses you’ve ever seen.

bucky sits on the edge of your bed, surrounded by complete luxury and designer. the look on his face could only be described as smug. satisfied with the mass of items he’s provided you with, and the bashfulness you present him with.

“you don’t like them, doll? ‘s all pink. just how you like it,” bucky claimed.

and he wasn’t wrong. the attention to detail was something that would’ve made you weak in the knees, had it not been for the worry clouding you. every gift adorning your bed was either pink or, if pink, decorated with accents.

“you know i like them, but it’s too much,” you pout, walking towards his sitting position on your bed.

he cranes his neck to look up at you. it’s more of a slight reposition upwards rather than a stretch to look up to you. but, his attention is on you nonetheless.

this is far from the first time you’ve complained about the amount of money bucky has spent on you. in spite of the fact that you’ve established this sugar daddy arrangement for well over a year and he’s more than comfortable with showering you with gifts and money, you still find it hard to find comfort in your situation.

you know that bucky doesn’t mind, and you’re definitely not one to complain about gifts. however, a small part of you still feels like it’s a waste of money that could be put towards something more meaningful.

sensing the hesitation on your face, he pulls you in between his legs by your hips. your legs are slotted in between his, slightly looking down at him.