#(michael)

Michael sported a childish grin — the corners of his lips tugging each side as he fought to suppress it.

“A camera.”

“I can see that, honey, but what’s it doing out while we’re kissin’?” Your tone had Michael pulling his bottom lip between his lips.

“Wanted to try somethin’.” He revealed, his voice soft and sweet despite the sensual undertone.

You’d barely been situated in Michael’s lap five minutes, lips moving feverishly against his own, anticipating some intimacy with your man, before the clicking of the Sony Handycam CCD-M8U you bought him for his birthday started a recording.

“Come on, baby, keep goin’.” He whispered — behaving like a producer backstage of a performance, using hushed tones to support you with your next act.

You shook your head in protest — lips parting to tell him to turn that damn thing off. But, it was Michael’s way or no way. He perched up from slightly beneath you, capturing your lips again on his own. You could sense the camera on you as Michael slid his eager tongue into your mouth — the wet muscle exploring yours as his right hand levitated in the air, capturing every second of your private moment. His spare hand slid up the centre of your spine, fingers tips tracing the dip, pushing you closer to his chest.

“Michael, turn it of—“ “Shh, just let it happen, doll.”

His muffled dismissal against your lips had you huffing into his — giving up fighting him. Luckily for Michael, you soon forgot about his little friend in the air — your enclosed lip-locking becoming increasingly more heated as time pursed. Your hips ground against his own involuntarily, muscle memory kicking in from your many previous sensual encounters, eliciting a sharp gasp from your throat. Michael hummed into your mouth at the sound of your first pretty noise of the night — the excitement of his future self watching the tape back and watching your neediness increase in real time had him buzzing.

Michael bucked his hips up to meet yours halfway — a genuine whine of desperation leaving your mouth against his own, still locked in a ferocious kiss. Your hands encased his flushed cheeks, holding him dearly close to you, your whines blossoming into authentic moans of pleasure as your throbbingly touch-starved clit nudged against the painfully obvious bulge in his slacks.

Your lips left Michael’s in a frantic, needy frenzy — planting hot, open-mouthed kisses to his jawline, lips dragging along the spectacularly chiseled bone, smothering the skin in your mauve lipstick. Before following his anatomy and furthering your pout down his neck, licking a tentative stripe down the slope.

Michael shuddered under your brutal teasing, hands twitching around the camera ever so slightly. He peered up at it, ensuring he was capturing you in the perfect way.

“Gosh, baby, y’look so pretty like that.” Michael breathed, titling his head back to allow you to expand your surface area of tentative licks, “Kissin’ all on me like that.”

At this point, all the sense you had to smack that camera out of Michael’s hand had long left your head. Now, all you were interested in was pressing hot kisses down Michael’s chest, shoving the loose shirt off his torso to give yourself more room to worship his body with your mouth.

Above you, Michael had managed to shift the camera angle down, now holding the painfully obvious equipment with two hands, resting on his heaving chest — angling it just right to show your arched frame moving down his body, lipstick marks forming on his glossed skin. Your manicured hands reached the waistband of his slacks before peering your head up from his crotch, eyeing him seriously, as if to say put that thing away now.

“Please?” His pleading, slightly whiny voice had any form of judgment you’d once obtained now ten feet out the window as his eyes sparkled above you — lip threatening to fall into a pout as the camera taped you rolling your eyes before unbuckling his trousers, shoving them down his thighs. Michael grinned excitedly as you pressed your chest close to the aching bulge in his boxers.

“Wow, you really do like that camera, huh?” You teased, tracing a calculated finger down the ridge of his hard cock.

Michael hissed at the sudden, feather-light touch, knuckles going white around said tech, lip being gnawed by his pearly whites at the sight of you between legs.

“Quit teasin’.” He spoke shyly, his eyes flicking between the screen and your in-person frame, an anticipatory smile on his face.

Usually, Michael would dislike it when you suck his dick — believing his lady should be pleasured and looked after, not made to strain herself for only his gain. But, he knew how you secretly enjoyed having your throat stuffed full, rendering completely at your mercy, so every once in a while, he’d allow it.

That and you looked so pretty with his cock in your mouth.

Especially on camera.

So, when your lips wrapped around the flushed head of his proud cock, Michael didn’t know whether to focus on making sure every second of this was caught on video, or the feeling of intense delight you were succumbing him to. You suckled the tip just how he liked, his salty, yet equally delicious, pre-cum flooding your taste buds, relishing in the way the perfect dip in his eyebrows adorned his face — he was crumbling.

“S-Shit, sweetheart, doin’ so good.” He panted, thighs tensing against your hands as you steadied yourself on the meaty muscle.

You slid him deeper, tongue dancing over the throbbing vein on the underside of his shaft, while your pretty fingers wrapped around the base, pumping him slowly in beat with your eager mouth. Michael watched you like a hawk — heart thumping in his chest so hard he was certain the tachycardia was going to send him into cardiac arrest at the way your seductive, doe eyes fluttered up at him through your lashes.

“Oh, Lord.” He heaved, head falling back against the pillow as the head of his swollen manhood punched the back of your throat — a loud gag of rejection sounding out into the room.

Michael secretly adored when you did that.

In his trance of lust, the camera slipped from his grasp, sliding down his side, leaving his hands free to slither down and cradle your face. You noticed.

“Ah, ah, ah!” You teased, pulling off his cock with a pop, saliva connecting you even in disengagement, “Thought you wanted it filmin’, angelface?”

Michael whined, trembling hands leaving your face to pull the camera back into his possession — focusing the lense to put you back into shot. Michael’s breath hitched at the sight — even on the choppy, blurry screen, your blown out pupils, tear-streaked, flushed red cheeks and swollen lips glossed with spit and his pre-cum had him twitching in your hand as you pumped him slowly.

“Look so fuckin’ good, girl.” He admitted, furrowed eyebrows hidden between the large hunk of plastic as he watched through it, “Can’t wait to watch this later.”

You laughed, pressing a kiss to the head, collecting the pre-cum that dribbled down him with the tip of your tongue, smiling at the way Michael whined, “Oh, you dirty dog, Michael Jackson.”

Michael chuckled cheekily, “Come up here, wanna feel you.”

Obeying his orders, you let his hardened cock fall against his tensed abdomen, climbing up him once more. Your hips settled either side of him against, clothed pussy lips now hugging the thickness of his cock through your soaked panties.

“Well, would you look at that?” He started, a teasing finger coming down to toy with your damp underwear, a whine leaving your lips at the tentative touches, “Looks like you’re enjoying this after all, hm?”

You failed to reply — words catching in your throat as his finger traced the outline of your aching clit through the thin material, your lips parting at the sheer sensuality of his touch.

“Where’s that teasin’ girl gone, hm? Cat got your tongue, mama?”

“Michael.” Your voice a whiny, needy plea of despair.

“What, baby? Talk to me. Tell me whatcha’ need.” He coaxed, his tone a gentle dominant force that your mouth rambling to answer, to please.

You whined, hips rolling against the hard of his cock, rubbing alongside the pad of his finger that remained flat against your nub, “Plea—please, need it—need to feel you.”

Michael’s hand, steadily holding the camera, angled it perfectly to show your needy pussy humping his cock, as well as the eyebrows knitted in lust on your pretty little face — his cock twitching at the thought of fucking his hand to the recording later.

Michael tapped your hip, demanding you lift your hips to have access to your drooling cunt. He peeled the drenched cotton panties from your puffy pussy lips, tucking them to the side of your vulva. With practiced ease, Michael slid an expert finger between the slickness of your cunt — collecting the sweet essence of your arousal on his digits. With methodical swiftness, a long finger of Michael’s slipped into the clenching hole which needed him most.

“Mmh, such a pretty pussy, doll. Got all wet just for me?”

Michael knew the answer, he just loved to hear you say it. Loved to hear you admit in your drunken state of ecstasy that he was the one to make you slick with arousal. Michael’s fingers moved with excellence you were stunned by each and every time — the relentless abuse against the sweet, spongy spot inside you that had you crying out, tears jerking from your ears at the sheer force of the sensation.

“Ooh, there she go,” He whispered, the ball of his hand coming up to roll against the excluded nub that was screaming for touch, a move that had you sobbing, “That’s the spot, huh, ma? So good it got you cryin’ f’me, hm?”

His name left your swollen, cum-stained lips in a wretched sob, nails digging into the flex of his bicep, gripping on for dear life as you fucked yourself onto his hand.

“Y-Yes! Yes—o-ah! Yes, God, Mike—gonna cum!”

Michael could’ve laughed at the way your face dropped in sheer disbelief as he pulled his hand away from your sopping cunt after your confession of near climax. Your chest heaved, clit throbbing as your eyes welled up, pulling on Michael’s heartstrings.

“Oh, sweet girl.” He laughed, leaning up to press a soft kiss to your pouting lips, “Need you to cum around my cock, babygirl, yeah? Can you do that for me, pretty lady?”

You nodded meekly, bottom lip still jutted out in protest as Michael guided his cock between your shaking legs. Just as his burning hot tip slid into the familiar, wet comforts of your hole — your disappointed pout fell into a gasp of relief.

Michael laughed, his free hand coming to pull on your bottom lip, cock slipping further inside you, “Don’t want this out again, you hear me? No poutin’ girls around here.”

You nodded feverishly — not ever wanting to disobey him, in fear he’d take away the one thing that’s fulfilling the desire that burned fiercely inside you, as he stretched you open, inch by inch. The camera, still rolling, captured all of this — the way each inch of his cock disappeared slowly, your pretty pussy lips wrapped around his shaft, your slick drooling around him.

You whined, feeling impossibly full as he bottomed out, seating you fully down onto his pelvis. His own bottom lip was sucked in between his teeth, admiring the sight of your perfect frame on top of him.

“Oh, I bet you’re so full, huh, baby? Usually don’t let y’ride me first — can feel that pussy throbbing.” He confessed, laughing softly as you whimpered, his free hand slithering up your bared body — making sure to record his hand palming your tits through your lacy bra.

Michael wasted no time pulling the material off your body, reaching behind you to flick the fastener apart one-handed — watching as the bra fell from your chest, your perky tits on full display to him, and the camera, of course. His teasing fingers crawled up you, grabbing a gentle handful of your right breast, humming at the feeling of the soft skin and the sound of your desperate moan. You shuffled around him — wincing at the feeling of his perfectly curved cock nudging your quivering walls, awaiting the approval to start moving.

No matter what you were doing — Michael was always in control.

Michael moved his hand to roll your erect nipple in between his nimble fingers, “Go’head, girl, show me how much you need it.”

You didn’t wait for him to change his mind, not that he would with the way you were clenching eagerly around him, lifting your hips off him, about half-way, before slamming back down. Your head fell back instinctively, a cry of sheer joy slipping from your lips, only encouraging Michael to throb inside you.

“Come on, sweetheart, falling apart after one bounce? Can do better than that.” He teased, smirking at the way you bit your lip shyly, suddenly embarrassed at how much effect he had over you.

Your hips rose again — now bouncing with the help of Michael’s tight grip on your hip, pulling you up and down on him. You whined, cheeks flushed in timidity as he hummed behind the screen.

“Oh, that’s the fuckin’ money shot, girl. My baby’s a natural. Look at that pussy—fuck, yeah, doll, keep goin’.”

Michael’s words of encouragement had you crying out — moaning in pure lust as his cock continued to relentlessly nudge against the best spot inside you, one he never failed to hit each time. Michael’s hand cradled your hips dominantly, grinding you down with each movement, rubbing your clit onto his neatly groomed pubic bone, failing to hide the smirk that crept onto his face at the sound of your needy noises.

“That’s it — let me hear you, darling.”

“Mike.” You whined, hand coming up to grabs handful of your tits and the other holding yourself up on his chest, slick with sweat. Michael’s eyes could’ve popped out of his head at the sight of you — seductively playing with your perky breasts, nipples rolling between your fingers like he once did, head thrown back, mouth agape letting your slutty moans fall upon his perked up ears.

Now, this was the shot.

Michael couldn’t wait another moment. Throwing the camera down on the bed, he lifted you up with both strong hands, pulling you off his slicked cock, and laying you down gently on the bed with ease.

“Mikey.” You whinged, “Please.”

“I know, sweet thing, ‘m coming back, don’t worry that pretty little head.” He reassured, pressing a gentle kiss to the corner of your mouth.

Michael slid you onto your side with ease, one shaking leg laying over the other, revealing your swollen cunt. He slid a soft hand over your skin, squeezing the plush of your ass, humming at the sight of you beneath him. He picked up the discarded camera once more, pointing it down at you once more.

“Now, this,” He started, “is the perfect position for when my baby’s gettin’ recorded. Y’know why, sweet girl?” He spoke, sliding the flushed head of his cock between your drooling folds, ignoring the way you whined loudly, peering up at him as if to beg him to shut up and just fuck you, “Because I can see this perfect ass, cute lil’ waist, beautiful titties, and most importantly,” He complimented cheekily, free hand sliding over each body part as he listed them, before gripping your chin between his index finger and thumb, “This pretty little face makin’ the cutest faces while I fuck her needy little pussy.”

Michael entered you in one swift motion — the cutest faces he was referring to filling your expression, a loud cry leaving your lips. His name fell from your mouth like a prayer, a chant, as he rocked into you deeply — his cock-end nudging your cervix each time, sending you clawing at the bedsheets. Pleased with himself, Michael smiled behind the camera once more, angling it down perfectly to capture every aspect of you he listed — tits bouncing, ass recoiling against his abdomen, face contorted into pleasure and his cock sliding in and out of your raw cunt, a white, milky ring forming around the base of him.

Michael was in heaven — knowing this video wouldn’t be your last as he watched you through the small screen, hand now clawing at his flexed arm, nails digging into the skin as he filled you.

“Michael, Michael!—fuck, Mike, please, God, fuc—“

“Hmm, that’s right, dollface, tell me all about it. Feelin’ good?”

You whined desperately, clit throbbing against his free hand that had slithered between your sweating bodies to rub tight, practiced circled onto the aching nub, “Gonna fuckin’ cum, Mikey, please, don’t sto—ah!”

“Wasn’t plannin’ on it, sweet girl,” He admitted, leaning down, not caring about the camera angle, as he pressed soft kisses to your face, some landing on your parted lips, now only bothered about your pleasure, “Cum around me, baby, wanna feel it.”

The nearing peak of your orgasm crawled down your body, nestling in your abdomen, body slowly igniting in fierce heat. The sheer explicitness of the intimate moment had adrenaline and lust pumping through your veins. Your trembling hand reached across the bed, taking a hold of the camera once more, holding it out for him.

“Want it to see you fill me up wit—ah!—with your cum, Mikey, please.”

“Oh, fuck.”

Your provocative declaration had him frantic — doubling over, one hand on the bed, the other steadying the camera, fucking you twice as fast. Your cries only getting louder as he pounded the sweet spot inside you over and over again, his name being screamed so loud you were certain the whole house could hear.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah—there! ‘M there!”

You orgasmed with a cry so loud it had Michael cursing under his breath at the eroticism — revelling in the way your cunt squeezed him, sucking him in further as you came around him, nails dragging down his tensed back.

Michael wasn’t far behind you, fighting every urge in him to throw the camera away and fuck his seed so far into you that you’d be swollen with him for days, but holding it firmly in his grasp, recording just how sweetly your cunt milked him for everything he had to offer, your slickness pooling beneath you. He, though, forced himself as deep into you as he could go — making sure the camera picked up on his your cunt accommodated the sheer size of him, his milky white cum now frothing around the base of his softening cock.

He slowly pulled himself out of you with a wince, “Hold still for me, babygirl.” He ordered, forcing your legs to stay open as he leant down between your thighs, groaning at the way his cum drooled out of your swollen cunt, sliding down your shaking thighs.

Feeling a sense of post-orgasm confidence, you slid two tentative fingers between your legs, dipping into your sopping cunt, collecting both your juices onto your digits. Michael could sense where this was going, softened cock twitching, threatening to harden as you slipped your slick fingers into your mouth — sucking the mix of your salty and tangy essences clean from your burning skin.

“Holy shit, baby,” Michael breathed, feeling as though he was capturing pure talent through the screen as you released your fingers with a pop, similar to how you did with his cock prior, eyeing the camera with a knowing smirk,

“Got myself my own filthy lil’ pornstar, huh?”

There was one thing Michael Jackson still hated admitting.

He got lonely easily.

Especially in that weird in-between stage of his life where everything felt like it was changing too fast.

Off the Wall had exploded.

People looked at him differently now.

The pressure was bigger.

The expectations louder.

And somehow the house in Encino felt emptier because of it.

Tonight was supposed to help.

Michael had spent an embarrassingly long time setting up Twister in the living room because he’d convinced himself his brothers would actually play with him for once.

“C’mon,” he tried again, holding up the box dramatically while his brothers grabbed jackets near the front door. “Just one game.”

“We already got plans, Mike.”

“We’re late.”

“We’ll play another time.”

Michael’s shoulders slumped slightly.

“But you said—”

“Another night, man.”

The front door shut behind them.

Silence.

Michael stared at the bright Twister mat spread across the carpet for a second too long before quietly sitting down beside it.

From the kitchen, Katherine Jackson looked over sympathetically.

“Oh baby…”

“I’m fine,” Michael muttered immediately.

Which meant he absolutely wasn’t.

Meanwhile, from his armchair, Joe Jackson barely glanced up from the television.

“You too old to be sulking over games.”

Katherine shot him a sharp look immediately.

Michael just looked down at the mat.

And then the doorbell rang.

Katherine moved to answer it, and seconds later a familiar voice drifted through the hallway.

“Mrs. Jackson, my mom said you forgot your baking dish again—”

Then Y/N L/N appeared in the living room doorway and stopped mid-sentence.

Because spread across the floor was Twister.

Her entire face lit up instantly.

“Oh my God.”

Michael looked up slowly.

Y/N pointed aggressively at the mat.

“Are we playing Twister?”

Michael blinked once.

“…You wanna play?”

“Michael.” She looked genuinely offended. “I love Twister.”

And just like that, something heavy in his chest loosened instantly.

Because Y/N always did this somehow.

She was the Jacksons’ neighbor in Encino. Loud, funny, dramatic Y/N who showed up unexpectedly and filled rooms without even trying.

Katherine adored her.

Joe absolutely did not.

“She distracts him,” he always grumbled whenever she came around.

Which honestly? Only became more true with time.

Because Michael looked at Y/N differently than he looked at everybody else.

Like he could breathe easier around her.

Even if neither of them fully realized why yet.

Y/N dropped onto the floor beside the mat dramatically.

“Set it up.”

Michael laughed softly for the first time all evening.

“It’s already set up.”

“Oh.” Y/N crossed her legs. “So this is serious.”

⋆⭒˚.⋆

Twister turned out to be a horrible idea immediately.

Mostly because Y/N cheated constantly.

“You moved your foot!”

“I adjusted it.”

“That’s cheating.”

“It’s called strategy.”

Michael laughed so hard he nearly collapsed onto the mat.

God, He needed this.

Needed someone who didn’t treat him like a celebrity or a machine or the future of music.

Just Michael.

At one point Y/N got completely tangled beneath his arm and burst into helpless laughter.

“We’re stuck.”

“Move your hand.”

“I literally can’t.”

“You’re dramatic.”

“Yeah, well, you like that about me.”

Michael opened his mouth automatically.

Paused.

Then smiled shyly instead. “I actually do.”

Y/N blinked at him for half a second too long before immediately looking away.

Because sometimes Michael smiled at her and her brain genuinely stopped functioning for a moment.

Not that she’d ever admit that out loud.

Meanwhile Katherine watched the entire thing from the kitchen trying not to smile too obviously.

Joe, unfortunately, noticed too. And he didn’t like it one bit.

Because Michael had spent all week locked in the studio obsessing over demos and rehearsals and choreography. Focused. Disciplined.

Then Y/N showed up and suddenly he was sprawled across the floor laughing over Twister like the weight of the world wasn’t sitting on his shoulders anymore.

Joe frowned.

“Boy’s distracted.”

Katherine looked at him flatly.

“Boy’s happy.”

Joe didn’t answer.

⋆⭒˚.⋆

Eventually the game dissolved into complete chaos because Y/N stopped following the rules entirely.

Then somehow they ended up on the couch with multiple cartons of ice cream spread across the coffee table while an old black-and-white movie played softly in the background.

Y/N sat curled into the corner beneath a fuzzy blanket she’d stolen from Michael’s room earlier.

“This,” she declared seriously around a spoonful of strawberry ice cream, “is the peak human existence.”

Michael laughed softly beside her.

“You say that about everything.”

“Only because I appreciate the beauty in life.”

“You said mozzarella sticks changed your life last week.”

“But they did, Mikey!”

Michael shook his head fondly.

She was absolutely ridiculous.

But tonight something warm settled quietly in his chest every time she made him laugh. Because earlier she’d noticed he was upset immediately.

And instead of brushing it off or teasing him, she stayed. Like his feelings mattered.

Like he mattered.

And Michael didn’t realize how badly he needed that until now.

The movie played softly.

The lights stayed low.

Y/N’s voice slowly got quieter and quieter while she rambled about how old movies needed ‘better kissing scenes.’

Then, eventually, silence.

Michael glanced sideways and froze slightly.

Because Y/N had fallen asleep against his shoulder.

Still holding the spoon.

Michael smiled instantly.

Carefully, trying not to wake her, he adjusted the blanket higher around her shoulders.

And for a second he just sat there looking at her.

At the way her hair spilled against his arm.

The faint remains of eyeliner beneath her eyes.

The tiny pout she always got when she slept.

Something in Michael’s chest ached suddenly, warm in a way he didn’t fully understand yet.

A few minutes later Katherine walked into the living room and immediately stopped.

Because there they were.

Michael sitting perfectly still so Y/N could sleep comfortably against him.

The empty ice cream cartons abandoned everywhere.

The old movie flickering softly across both their faces.

Katherine’s expression melted instantly.

“Oh,” she whispered softly.

Then Joe appeared behind her.

And immediately frowned.

“There she goes again,” he muttered. “Distracting him.”

Katherine looked ready to argue until Michael glanced up briefly.

And the look on his face stopped her. Because her son looked peaceful.

Not exhausted. Not pressured. Not overwhelmed.

Just happy. Safe, even.

Like for one evening he got to simply be a young man sitting on the couch with his best friend instead of carrying the weight of becoming Michael Jackson.

Katherine smiled quietly to herself.

Meanwhile Michael looked back down at Y/N sleeping against him and smiled too.

Small.

Private.

Completely gone for her.

Even if he didn’t know it yet.

⋆⭒˚.⋆

A few days after the Twister episode, the California heat had turned the Jackson backyard into something straight out of a magazine ad.

The pool shimmered bright blue beneath the sun.

Music drifted softly from outdoor speakers.

And floating lazily in the middle of the water was Michael Jackson with a notebook balanced against his bare chest, completely lost inside his own head.

One arm dangled into the water while he scribbled lyrics messily across the page, humming little melodies beneath his breath every few seconds.

His dark curls were slightly damp from the heat already, and his aviator sunglasses rested low on his nose while he concentrated so hard he barely noticed anything else around him.

Michael always got like this while writing.

Tunnel vision.

Obsessive.

Like the song became the only thing existing in the world.

Which was exactly why his brothers chose that moment to interrupt him.

“What are you doing?” Jermaine asked while stepping outside with Marlon and Tito trailing behind him.

Michael barely glanced up from the notebook.

“Working.”

Jermaine stared flatly at the inflatable raft.

“You’re writing music in a pool.”

“I’m thinking.”

“You look ridiculous.”

Michael ignored him completely, scribbling something down quickly before muttering the melody beneath his breath again.

Tito leaned closer.

“What’s got you acting possessed now?”

Michael finally sat up slightly, curls falling into his face while he pointed the pencil toward them dramatically.

“I gotta finish this.”

“You’re at the pool, Mike.”

Michael sighed heavily.

“If I don’t finish it, God’s gonna give it to Prince.”

His brothers exploded laughing immediately.

“That is not how music works!”

“Yes it is.”

“You are insane.”

Michael pointed accusingly at them.

“You laugh now but when Prince releases this six months later don’t come crying to me.”

Jermaine cried-laughed.

And then the back door slid open.

Michael looked up automatically. Big mistake.

Because Y/N L/N stepped outside.

And every coherent thought immediately left his body.

She looked like actual summer personified, wearing a tiny red-and-white checkered bikini tied at her hips with little bows, her hair piled messily on top of her head while oversized aviator sunglasses sat on her nose.

Michael’s aviator sunglasses.

The realization hit him instantly.

“Oh my God,” Jermaine whispered-yelled beside him immediately. “She stole your glasses.”

Michael barely heard anything.

Because Y/N was already walking barefoot toward the pool, sunlight glowing against her skin while the sunglasses practically swallowed half her face.

And somehow the fact she was casually wearing his things made the situation ten times worse for him.

“Oh!” Y/N smiled brightly when she spotted everyone. “Hi boys.”

Brutal silence. Jermaine slowly turned toward Michael.

And immediately started grinning.

Because Michael looked absolutely doomed.

Not subtle at all.

His eyes widened slightly before darting downward toward the notebook in his lap like he suddenly remembered he was supposed to be pretending to work.

“Ohhhhh,” Marlon whispered delightedly.

Michael snapped back to reality instantly.

“What?”

Tito crossed his arms trying not to laugh.

“Nothing.”

Meanwhile Y/N finally looked properly toward Michael.

And she froze.

Because Michael was shirtless.

And somehow her brain had never fully processed that possibility before.

Which now actually felt medically concerning.

The sunlight reflected against the water onto his skin while he sat stretched across the float in black swim trunks, curls messy from the heat, lean chest lightly glistening beneath the afternoon sun.

Y/N actually forgot what she was doing for a second.

“Oh my God,” she blurted out before she could stop herself. “You’re shirtless.”

One of his brothers made a strangled noise immediately, trying to suppress a laugh.

Michael blinked once.

“…Yeah?”

“I’ve literally never seen that before.”

Michael sat up straighter automatically. Which somehow only made everything worse.

Because now Y/N got an even better look at him.

And Michael got a very clear look at Y/N staring.

“Oh this is bad,” Marlon whispered gleefully.

Michael tried looking back down at the notebook again pretending very hard to focus.

Unfortunately his body had already betrayed him.

Because Y/N kept walking closer to the edge of the pool adjusting his sunglasses and smiling at him in that absentmindedly sweet way she always did.

Michael shifted awkwardly against the float.

Immediately realizing the problem.

Oh.

Oh, no, He thought.

Actual panic flashed across his face for half a second. Because now Y/N was kneeling beside the pool and Michael suddenly became very aware that his swim trunks were doing absolutely nothing to hide the situation developing in real time.

Jermaine noticed instantly.

And the grin spreading across his face became genuinely evil.

“Oh my GOD.”

Michael snapped his head toward him immediately.

“Shut up.”

“You are fighting for your life right now, aren’t you?”

“I hate you.”

Y/N looked between them suspiciously.

“What’s happening?”

“Nothing!” Michael answered way too fast and his brothers nearly collapsed laughing.

Meanwhile Y/N narrowed her eyes briefly before shrugging.

“Anyway…”

And before anyone could react, she jumped directly into the deep end of the pool.

Then immediately regretted it.

“Oh my God WAIT—”

Y/N resurfaced flailing dramatically because she was way too short to comfortably touch the bottom.

“Y/N—" Michael started, but she launched herself at him without hesitation.

Michael barely steadied the float in time before Y/N practically climbed onto him in panic, arms wrapping tightly around his shoulders while she tried to keep herself above water.

The float tipped dangerously sideways beneath them.

And suddenly Y/N was pressed directly against him.

Chest to chest.

Legs tangled beneath the water.

Her thighs brushing his waist while she clung to him breathlessly.

Michael stopped breathing entirely.

Because this was already catastrophic before Y/N accidentally shifted against his lap trying to stabilize herself.

Michael sucked in a sharp breath.

His brothers turned away screaming laughing.

“Mikey is done.”

Michael wanted the earth to swallow him whole.

Because now he was painfully aware of everything.

The water dripping slowly down Y/N’s skin.

The coconut sunscreen smell surrounding her.

The fact she was wearing his sunglasses.

And most importantly: the very obvious problem he was desperately trying to hide while Y/N clung to him in the middle of the pool.

Michael grabbed her waist quickly to keep both of them from tipping over.

“You okay?” he asked, voice noticeably strained.

Y/N nodded breathlessly.

“I hate this stupid deep pool.”

Michael laughed weakly.

Except now Y/N noticed something too.

Not the full situation.

But definitely the tension.

The way his hands tightened carefully at her waist.

The way he kept avoiding eye contact.

The fact his entire face was pink now.

And honestly? Y/N wasn’t doing much better herself.

Because Michael this close felt genuinely unfair.

His chest warm beneath her hands.

His curls damp and falling into his eyes.

His arms flexing slightly every time he steadied her in the water.

And the way he looked at her completely flustered and overwhelmed and trying so hard to stay respectful despite very obviously malfunctioning.

Y/N suddenly became very aware of how close their faces were.

“Huh,” she said softly before she could stop herself.

Michael blinked.

“…What?”

“You look really pretty like this.”

Michael nearly short-circuited on the spot.

Jermaine collapsed into one of the lounge chairs laughing while Tito slapped the table dramatically.

Michael groaned quietly, dropping his forehead briefly against Y/N’s shoulder in complete defeat while she laughed helplessly against him.

And somehow neither of them made any effort to move apart.

⋆⭒˚.⋆

The sun was beginning to soften by the time they left the pool.

Everything felt warm and lazy in that golden late afternoon way California summers always did.

Music still drifted faintly from somewhere inside the house while the grass stayed hot beneath bare feet and the air smelled like sunscreen and chlorine.

And somewhere across the backyard, Y/N L/N was currently losing her mind over a llama. Specifically Louie.

Michael sat on the back steps with a towel around his shoulders and watched in helpless amusement while his best friend ran dramatically across the grass trying to feed Louie strawberries.

“Louie!” she gasped. “Save the drama for you llama!”

Louie stared blankly at her.

Michael laughed softly under his breath.

She really did talk to animals like they were people.

Y/N held another strawberry out toward the llama carefully.

“You just get me emotionally, don’t you?”

Louie sneezed directly in her face. Y/N did not move an inch.

Michael laughed really hard at that.

“Oh my God!”

Y/N wiped her cheek dramatically while glaring at the llama in betrayal.

“I thought we had something special going on, Louie.”

Her laughter echoed across the yard a second later anyway.

Bright. Contagious.

Real enough that Michael found himself smiling before he even realized it.

Because Y/N laughed with her whole body. Throwing her head back. Clutching her stomach. Nearly stumbling over herself every single time.

And Michael loved making her laugh more than almost anything.

Which was maybe a problem. A very big problem.

“You got it bad, don’t you?”

Michael startled slightly.

Bill stood beside the porch railing holding a soda, watching Y/N chase Louie around the yard with open amusement.

Michael immediately looked back toward the grass.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Bill snorted.

“Michael.”

Across the lawn Y/N was now attempting to braid flowers into the llama’s fur.

Louie looked deeply exhausted by her existence already.

Michael smiled again without meaning to.

Bill noticed immediately.

“Mm-hm.”

Michael realized too late he’d done it again.

Done the stupid soft smile.

The one everybody kept noticing lately whenever Y/N was around.

Michael cleared his throat awkwardly.

“She’s just funny.”

Bill looked at him flatly.

“Boy.”

Michael groaned quietly, dragging one hand down his face.

“Please don’t do this.”

“Do what?”

“The talk.”

Bill burst out laughing.

“The talk?”

“Yes.”

“You twenty something old scared of a conversation?”

Michael looked genuinely distressed. “Yes.”

Meanwhile Y/N finally succeeded in placing one flower crookedly behind Louie’s ear.

“Oh my God,” she whispered to the llama. “You’re gorgeous.”

Michael chuckled at her, feeling helpless again.

Bill crossed his arms.

“You look happier around her.”

Michael’s smile faded slightly at that. Not entirely, just enough to become softer. Because the annoying part was that Bill was right.

Michael looked back toward the yard quietly while Y/N rammed dramatically into Louie’s side trying to hug him.

“She’s different,” Michael admitted softly.

Bill hummed knowingly.

“How?”

Michael took a second to answer. Because truth be told? He didn’t even fully know himself.

“She doesn’t…” He paused. “She doesn’t look at me like everybody else does.”

Bill stayed quiet.

So Michael kept going.

“She just comes over and steals my food and makes fun of my clothes and talks during movies.” He smiled to himself faintly. “And when I’m around her I don’t gotta think so hard.”

Bill’s expression softened at that and he clicked his tongue.

Because Michael spent most of his life thinking too hard.

Overworking.

Overanalyzing.

Overperforming.

But around Y/N? He looked light. Young again.

Like the fame disappeared for a little while.

Bill glanced toward the backyard where Y/N was now laying in the grass beside Louie dramatically.

“She likes you too, you know.”

Michael nearly choked.

“What?” He blurted out desperately and ridiculously fast.

Bill looked amused now.

“Michael,”

“No no no.” Michael sat up straighter immediately. “We’re friends.”

“Mhm.”

“We are.”

Bill took one sip of his soda.

“She wears your sunglasses.”

Michael froze. “That doesn’t mean anything.”

“She nearly drowned looking at you shirtless.”

Michael turned bright red instantly, feeling his cheeks warming up. “Well, that was an accident!”

Bill snorted. “And you almost passed out when she climbed on top of you in the pool.”

Michael buried his face into the towel he held immediately.

“Oh my God.” He let out, his voice muffled.

“Son, everybody sees this except you two.”

Michael groaned dramatically into the towel.

Because unfortunately he knew Bill was right.

He did feel different around Y/N.

Too aware of her all the time.

Too happy whenever she showed up unexpectedly.

Too nervous whenever she looked pretty.

And today? It had been particularly catastrophic for him.

Especially the pool.

Especially Y/N wearing his glasses and clinging to him in the water with her legs wrapped around his waist while he fought for his actual life.

Michael groaned, face still in the towel. “Bill, I think I’m dying.”

Bill burst out laughing.

“No, son. I think you just got feelings.” He added between laughs.

Michael looked genuinely horrified by the concept.

Before he could answer though—

“MICHAEL!”

Both of them looked up.

Y/N stood halfway across the lawn waving excitedly while Louie wandered behind her aimlessly.

“Your llama likes me more than you now!”

Michael smiled automatically.

Completely helpless.

Bill watched him for exactly one second before laughing quietly to himself and walking away.

Because yeah.

That boy was falling hard.

⋆⭒˚.⋆ ⋆⭒˚.⋆ ⋆⭒˚.⋆ ⋆⭒˚.⋆ ⋆⭒˚.⋆ ⋆⭒˚.⋆ ⋆⭒˚.⋆ ⋆⭒˚.⋆ ⋆⭒˚.⋆ ⋆⭒˚.⋆

Taglist:

Michael and you had a ritual. Every Friday night, you’d head over to his house in Hayvenhurst, and the entire night was spent watching movies, with countless snacks and bowls of ice cream, as well as the occasional rounds of board games. You were both very comfortable in each other’s presence, having known each other for so long. After a night of innocent fun, it’d turn into sleepovers that were mostly planned but mostly happened because you both dropped dead without realizing.

At least it was innocent fun, until one night.

Michael had been thinking a lot lately. He’d been made fun of by his brothers earlier that week, teased for not having his first kiss, which then turned into being teased for being so inexperienced with sexual acts. He was never in any rush for it, but he couldn’t stop thinking about it now.

When you arrived at his house that Friday, he couldn’t stop his mind from traveling into dirty places. His eyes would flicker to your lips every time you licked them, or every time you bit them. He also couldn’t stop glancing at your legs, it was like you knew it was the perfect time to torture him, as you’d shown up in a flowy and short sundress. He tried to rid himself of these thoughts, he really had.

But when he asked what game you were in the mood for, you suggested twister. Usually, he was always really excited for it, but with the thoughts that were polluting his mind, he didn’t know if he could control himself being that close to you.

But he could never say no to you. Which was how you ended up the way you did. As Michael’s luck seems to have it, you were currently bent over right in front of him. Your right foot on green, your left foot on blue, and both hands on yellow. He tried not to look down, as his right foot was also on green, and his left foot was also on blue. It was just a matter of leaning a bit forward and Michael’s crotch would be right against your ass.

He looked up at the ceiling trying to gather his thoughts before he looked down. He was looking for the spin wheel before he finally looked down at you. The sight of your perfect ass so close to him made him grow hard in an instant, his cock straining against his pants. He groaned quietly and closed his eyes.

“I lost,” He blurt out, stepping off of the board immediately. Before you could stand up right and maybe see his predicament, he sat on his bed and covered himself with a pillow. When you did start standing up right, Michael caught sight of your panties under your dress. It was like the universe was testing him. He closed his eyes again and shook his head.

You giggle and look at him, before taking a seat next to him. “That was quick, you’re usually really good at twister,” you tease, oblivious to Michael’s problem. He shrugged and smiled at you, sighing out. “Let’s just watch a movie, you pick,” he signaled towards the television with his head, knowing he couldn’t move the pillow, much less get up.

When you finally picked a film, you both sat in comfortable silence. You were engrossed in the film, the popcorn bowl he’d prepared before you got here in your lap. Michael wasn’t paying attention though. He couldn’t stop thinking about what his brothers said, but he also couldn’t stop thinking about how good you’d looked bent over in front of him. Suddenly he had an idea, and he knew he could trust you enough to at least ask.

“Can I ask you for a favor?” He speaks out, before he can chicken out. You look over to him and smile, readjusting your position so you were facing him. “Of course, anything.” You looked so pretty. He could feel his heart beating a mile a minute.

“Well, I-” He wasn’t exactly sure how to go about this in a way that wouldn’t make him sound like a creep. “I’ve been thinking about how… how I haven’t had my first kiss,” he nervously mumbled, you just nodded and gave him a smile that told him he could keep going. “And, and I was just thinking that it’s about time I do.”

He was a stuttering mess. He knew you wouldn’t judge him, but he was afraid of rejection. You, on the other hand, were praying he would ask to kiss you. You’d been smitten with him for a while but were always too scared to say anything. “What is it, Michael?” You asked, voice soft as ever, after a couple of seconds of silence. “I was wondering… if you could be my first kiss,” he finally spits out.

You were both flushed, excited beyond belief. You chuckled softly, cheeks hurting from how hard you were smiling. His eyes darted all over your face, searching for any sign that you were uncomfortable. There wasn’t any.

“I would love to be your first.” Michael couldn’t believe his ears. He thought he was dreaming. “R-really?!” He asked, causing you to nod your head. You slowly got up to your knees and got closer to him, softly laying your hands on his shoulders. You leaned in until your face was right in front of his. “Is this okay?” Your voice shook with nerves. He just nodded fast and multiple times. You slowly leaned in further until both of your lips came into contact. Both of you let out soft gasps, as you pecked each other’s lips once, twice, and three times.

When you pulled away, he had a bashful smile on his face and he was struggling to make eye contact. “Can- can we do that again?” He whispered, his hands coming up to your waist. You nodded gently, before moving to straddle his hips. That caught him off guard. You settled each of your knees at either side of him, hovering to make sure you weren’t making contact. Then you leaned in and kissed him again. This time it was longer and much more passionate. He took the lead, and you gasped when his tongue grazed your lips.

That gave him the opportunity to kiss into your mouth. Your tongues made contact and you both sighed into one another. Lost in the kiss, you’d unknowingly lowered yourself onto his lap. Your clothed cunt had come into contact with his growing bulge, making you both gasp and pull away from the kiss. Michael immediately panicked.

“I’m so- so sorry, I just-” You just shook your head, cutting off his rambling. “It’s okay, Michael. I promise,” you whispered, your eyes were hooded and you leaned back in to kiss him with new found hunger. One you both shared. His hands gripped your waist tighter, as you rolled your hips into his. Your core was growing wetter by the second, and you were sure that with each grind of your hips your arousal was leaving a wet patch on your panties and the front of Michael’s pants. He whimpered into your mouth as you continued your movements on his lap. You started kissing down to his jaw and then his neck, and he thrusted his hips up into you. He just couldn’t help himself. You both let out gasps of pleasure at the feeling. “Can I- is it okay if I just take my pants off?” He whimpered. You moaned softly at the need in his voice and nodded. You got off his lap as he unbuttoned his pants and unzipped them, pulling them down to his ankles, before reaching for you again.

“W-we don’t have to go further, I just want to f-feel you closer,” The quiver and whimper in his voice was only doing more to turn you on. “Okay,” you whimper back, sighing at the feeling when he pulled you back down onto his bulge, still covered but more prominent now. Knowing the only thing stopping him from slipping inside you was both of your underwear was driving you insane. You felt the head of his cock nudge right against your clit, and all you could do was throw your head back.

This gave Michael the opportunity to kiss and suck on your neck, leaving kiss marks wherever he could. He couldn’t get enough of you, of your noises, the way you looked, and how wet you felt even through your underwear. “So good,” he whimpered out, after the tip of his cock grazed your entrance. This was when he got the nasty idea. He maneuvered his hips so that his cock was aligned with your entrance, and he slowly slid the tip in, your and his underwear acting as barriers. But the feeling was nonetheless toe curling.

“Michael,” you gasped out. He just looked at you, with a pussy drunk look in his eyes. “I know, I know. I know I said we didn’t have to go any further, but I can’t help it baby. I need to feel you, please. I’m so close and I just want to cum inside you,” You couldn’t help but just breathe heavily at his begging, this is a side of Michael you’d never seen before. But you loved it. You nodded, feeling your heartbeat thrash as he slightly pulled down the band of his underwear, his cock springing free. Your mouth watered at the sight, your eyes growing wide. It was a lot bigger than it felt. He noticed your expression and cupped your face with one hand, tilting your head to look at him.

“Are you sure this is okay?” He was ever the gentleman, regardless of how far you’d already gone. You smiled and nodded. “Use your words, sweet girl,” he whispered.

“It’s okay, I want this,” you whisper back, and he bites his lip letting out a soft groan. He reaches his hand down to move your underwear to the side, nothing coming between your cunt and his cock now. He brought the tip of his cock to your clit, letting your arousal coat it. It was messy and it felt so good. He decided to test the waters, once again tilting his hips to insert just the tip. You both let out noises of pleasure and threw your heads back.

Michael kept you there, just his tip inside, but you wanted- no, needed more. So you took it upon yourself to slide all the way down, holding onto his shoulders to help you settle down. You both moaned, him at your gummy walls and you at the way he stretched you deliciously. “Nghh, so tight,” he muttered out, eyes rolling back into his head. You knew you wouldn’t last, and neither would he. He tentatively brought a hand up to circle your clit, making you gasp out in pleasure. “Don’t stop, Michael. Please,” If it hadn’t been for how turned on you were, you would’ve cringed at how needy you sounded.

“I wasn’t planning on it. I’m so close baby, d’you feel it? You feel what you do to me?” You were shocked, to say the least, at Michael’s filthy words. “Michael, please, fill me up,” was all you could think to say. Michael couldn’t believe this was real. He gripped your hips and thrusted his hips upwards, reaching that spot inside you that left you seeing white spots. The sound of skin slapping along with the filthy noises you were both making helped you both reach your limits. Your back arched and toes curled as you reached your high, it washed over you as Michael continued to thrust up into you, helping you through your orgasm while still chasing his.

“Fuck, ngh,” He lets out as he finally cums inside you, sticky ropes of cum filling you up. You whimper feeling it filling you up and he couldn’t help but keep thrusting. He groaned, looking down and seeing the mess that you were both making, eyes rolling at the white ring of cum at the base of his cock.

You both breathed heavily, trying to catch your breath. But neither of you moved, his softening cock still inside you. He looked up at you and brushed your slightly sweaty hair away from your face and behind your ears. He smiled as you smiled at him, leaning in to give you a soft kiss. When he finally pulled out, you both winced before you collapsed on him. You were both spent and content. Your head on his chest as he rubbed your back and kissed your head from time to time.

“Thank you,” he whispers, to which you just respond, “my pleasure.” You both had the biggest smiles on your faces.

You both knew things would never be the same, and neither of you minded.