#michael jackson

he had always been guided by a pretty strict moral compass. between his upbringing and his own polite nature, he just wasn’t the type of guy to fool around or treat people carelessly. he took things seriously, sometimes to a fault.

your friendship was the one thing in his life that felt safe and untouched by all the usual noise surrounding him. it was easy, it was real, and he kept a tight guard over it. but it was getting harder and harder to ignore the ache that had settled in his chest.

he wanted to be the gentleman he was raised to be, but every time he looked at you now, there was this need he couldn’t set aside. the thought of blurring those lines and letting things get messy scared him to death.

he didn't want to be the guy who took advantage of a close moment, and he definitely didn't want to look across the room one day and realize he’d made things weird between you two forever.

the shift hit immediately over the next few days. it wasn't anything too crazy, but there were noticeable hitches in your usual routine. you’d be hanging out on the carpet in his bedroom at hayvenhurst, casually flipping through a crate of old vinyl records to find something to play, and you’d look up to ask him a question. but instead of looking at the sleeve in your hand, michael would already be watching you. specifically, your mouth.

every time you spoke about the most boring, mundane things — like what track to play next or what you wanted to have for dinner — his gaze would drop. he’d watch your mouth, his own lips parting the tiniest bit as he tracked the movement, not even fully aware of what he was doing.

in his head, a loop was running. he kept remembering the sweet taste of your lip gloss, the dizzying warmth of your mouth parting for him, and the way your tongue slid greedily against his. it had felt incredible. just thinking about it made a tight ache coil low in his stomach. he wondered what it would feel like if he leaned across the carpet right now, if he could feel your soft, wet mouth sliding down, wrapping tight around his—

no. michael caught himself, his throat bobbing as he swallowed hard, a flush creeping up his neck. no, stop it. that’s your best friend. you are not taking your thoughts there. he’d abruptly yank his gaze away, clearing his throat and nervously shifting his weight on the floor to hide the stiffness in his trousers, stammering out a hurried reply that did absolutely nothing to clear the thick cloud of tension left in the room. 

by the weekend, the tension in the house was just getting to be too much. hoping a change of scenery would finally break the awkwardness, you both decided to get out of there and go for a drive.

you sat in the plush passenger seat of his light blue rolls-royce, the car parked under the sprawling canopy of a quiet, dimly lit street overlooking the valley. the street light cast a soft glow over the interior. you both had cups of soft-serve ice cream, the car filled with the easy, familiar chatter that always came naturally to you two.

"’m jus' sayin', it’s completely different when you're seein' it on a big screen," michael said as he gestured with his plastic spoon. "the way they did the transformation scenes in an american werewolf in london? 's like magic. rick baker is a genius, i'm tellin' you."

you snorted, shifting in your seat to face him. "you spent half the movie hiding your face behind your hands. you can't claim it’s ‘artistic appreciation’—” you used your free hand to flash quick air quotes, “—when you were literally too scared to look."

"i was not!" he protested, a laugh bursting out of him. he shrugged, shifting slightly in his seat. "i was studyin' the makeup effects— that’s research. y'gotta look closely at how the skin stretches, otherwise y'don't learn nothin'."

"right, research," you teased, taking another bite of your ice cream. "is that why you gripped my wrist so hard i lost circulation?"

"you're exaggeratin' now," he grinned as a pretty flush hit his cheeks. "i was jus' makin' sure you weren't scared. i was protectin' you."

"oh, thanks. my hero." you nudged his shoulder with your own, a smirk playing on your face. "what, are you thinking 'bout quitting your music career to become a makeup artist now?" 

michael let out another quiet chuckle, shaking his head as he looked down at his cup. "no way," he murmured, swirling his spoon through the melting ice cream. "'s too messy. i'll stick to the studio." he flicked his eyes back up to yours, his smile softening. "but a real artist has to appreciate all kinds of things. movies, painting, whatever... it all helps y'grow. y'gotta feed your mind, y'know?" 

you hummed, nodding along.

gradually, the chatter died down into a still quietness. you scooped up one last bite of your ice cream, turning your head to look out the window at the sprawling valley lights as you ate it, unaware that the motion left a small dab of vanilla right on the corner of your lower lip. 

michael was leaning his elbow against the steering wheel, watching you. his eyes locked onto the small white smudge. the silence stretched, growing warmer by the second, until the weight of his stare made you turn your head to face him.

your eyes met. neither of you looked away. the car suddenly felt a lot smaller than it did a second ago. heat bloomed in your cheeks under the weight of his gaze. 

"what?" you asked, your voice a little breathier than you intended.

michael didn't answer right away.

"y'have a little..." he said, his voice trailing off as his gaze drifted back to your lips. he slowly reached across the center console towards you.

you held your breath as his thumb pressed against the corner of your mouth to swipe the ice cream away. the intimacy of the touch made your pulse spike.

he drew his hand back, glancing down at his thumb before lifting his eyes to yours again.

without looking away, he slowly licked the vanilla from his thumb.

a hot rush of adrenaline zipped through you.

you swallowed against the dryness in your throat, nervously chuckling as you set your ice cream down in the holder. "thanks... guess i’m a messy eater."

"‘s jus’ me here,” he murmured with a small smile. his fingers fidgeted with the steering wheel, though his eyes never left your lips, it was clear his mind was elsewhere. the silence grew so thick it felt like the air was running out.

michael stayed where he was, still leaning across the center console. he was close enough to feel the warmth radiating off your skin. he took a deep, steady breath before speaking.

“...can i kiss you?” he asked quietly.

you barely let him finish asking before you were already leaning in.

when his mouth finally met yours, michael didn't think it was possible to miss your lips this much. the touch of you washed over him like relief, erasing all the agonizing distance between you in an instant. it somehow felt even better than he'd remembered over the last few day. your lips were soft, carrying the sweet taste of vanilla ice cream.

the kiss started as a slow, but the lingering sweetness on your tongue made it impossible for him to hold back for long.

michael let out a breathy sigh against your mouth as his hand slipped from the steering wheel to cup your cheek. his thumb slid along your jaw, tilting your head to slant his lips deeper over yours.

the first tentative sweep of his tongue past your lips sent a jolt through him, drawing him closer, as if he could close the gap between the seats by force of will.

he devoured you, his breath coming in short gasps that mingled with your own. every soft clash of your lips against his felt heightened, amplified by the cramped dark of the car.

michael’s mind went completely blank to everything except the way you responded to him, your hands finding the collar of his jacket and pulling him down, inviting the weight of him. a faint hum of approval vibrated in his throat when he felt your tongue slide back against his, matching his cadence with a hunger that rivaled his own.

he sucked your lower lip into his mouth, his hands drifted blindly down to your waist.

the center console dug into his side, keeping you frustratingly out of reach, but he refused to pull away. he needed you closer.

without breaking the kiss for even a second, he gripped your hips and hooked his arms beneath your thighs, lifting you up and over the center console. 

you scrambled to adjust, your knees sliding onto the edges of his seat until you were straddling his lap. the sudden drop of your body onto his made michael let out a muffled whine into your mouth. he wrapped his arms securely around your back, pulling your chest flush against his as the kiss turned sloppier.

the heat inside the car was blistering. michael's broad hands settled firmly on your hips, holding you close. the pressure between your bodies made him shudder against your mouth.

he couldn't get enough. all the frustration that had built up over the past week spilled over as he shifted his hips up to meet you. the leather beneath him squeaked softly with the movement.

even through the layers of your denim and his trousers, the friction was almost too much to handle. michael’s mouth grew clumsier, his teeth grazing your lower lip as he sucked your tongue into his mouth, drunk on the taste of you and the ache tightening in his groin. 

his head was spinning. he squeezed your hips tighter, his fingers digging into your skin as he guided your pace, chasing the delicious rush every time he rocked up against you.

a quiet moan slipped from your lips as your hips rolled into his. the sound alone made his dick twitch against his pants. his grip tightened, his knuckles paling against your waist.

he was trembling all over, his breathing shot, warmth creeping up under his curls. the pace turned frantic, both of you losing your breath as your bodies rolled together in the cramped cabin of the car. 

"oh... 'm gonna—" michael slurred into your mouth as his whole body shuddered.

"f-fuck," you whimpered, your fingers gripping his shoulders as your own climax threatened to crash over you.

desperate for a deeper angle, michael gripped your thighs and hoisted himself slightly higher in the seat, thrusting up hard to bury himself flush against you. 

in his haste, his movement made your back bump into the center of the steering wheel, the horn blaring and piercing the quiet street. 

both of you jumped, the sound cutting through the heat like a bucket of ice water. michael instantly lurched backward, his arm tugging you off the wheel as he tried to put distance between you, his head nearly hitting the roof. 

"oh shit," you gasped.

his chest heaved like he’d just run a marathon. he stared at you with wide eyes, his lips swollen and red. 

you were still straddling his lap, your hands clutching his shoulders while your heart battered against your ribs. the car was dead silent, save for the sound of both of your uneven breathing. 

the absurdity of the situation hit you first, and an airy giggle slipped past your lips. michael blinked at you, startled, before his own shoulders relaxed and he huffed out a short laugh.

but it was very short lived. michael's head was spinning, his thoughts a mess. looking at you in his lap in the dim light, a wave of guilt washed over him.

"we— we gotta stop," michael stammered. he dragged a trembling hand over his mouth, trying to steady himself, though his gaze kept slipping to your rumpled shirt. "we shouldn't... we can't be doin' this.”

you swallowed hard and forced yourself to nod.

but neither of you made a move to separate. the heat between your bodies was thick, your core still pressed flush against his stiff trousers, feeling the twitch of his erection right against you. michael swallowed hard, his hand dropping from his mouth to rest tentatively on your hip. 

he looked so torn, caught in this battle with himself, and it made something soften in your chest. you didn't want him pulling away out of fear or some strict rulebook. 

you leaned a little closer, reaching out to cup his jaw. your fingers slid along his warm skin, your thumb hooking under his chin to tilt his face up so he had no choice but to look at you.

he was so pretty it almost hurt. his soft curls framed his face in a messy halo, and his dark skin had flushed a deep crimson all the way to the tips of his ears.

as your eyes locked, michael’s gaze dropped to your mouth. his tongue darted out to quickly lick from his lower lip before he bit down on it hard, trapping it between his teeth 

"what if... i don't want to?" you murmured, your heart hammering so hard against your ribs you were sure he could feel it. your free hand slid down his shoulder to catch his wrist. "i mean... remember what you said earlier? 'bout research? you said a real artist has to appreciate all kinds of things to grow… and how will you grow if we don’t… you know."

michael blinked, a breathless laugh escaping him. his gaze flickered between your eyes and your lips.

"that... that was about the movies," he whispered, his voice dropping into a soft drawl as he stumbled over the words. he swallowed hard, his throat bobbing beneath your fingertips where your hand still rested on his jaw. his gaze dropped for a moment as his thumb traced a small circle against your hip, the warmth of his palm seeping through your clothes. "'s different. y'know it is."

"'s not different," you breathed, a small smile tugging at your lips. "we're just researching. practicing... aren’t we?"

michael's breath caught. he'd been the one to call it practice in the first place, but hearing the words in your voice made them sound a whole lot less convincing. it painfully obvious that neither of you believed it anymore, but it was just the excuse you'd both quietly agreed to hide behind.

you leaned down closer, the scent of him filling your senses as your eyelids fluttered shut. you pressed your lips to the soft corner of his mouth.

when you started to pull back, he chased your lips until he caught them again, locking his mouth over yours in a desperate kiss. a groan caught in his throat as his fingers tangled deep into the hair at the nape of your neck, his tongue slipping past your teeth.

but just as you tangled your fingers in his collar to pull him closer, he stopped.

he let out a shaky exhale against your skin before dropping his forehead into the crook of your neck. he stayed there for a moment, his chest heaving against yours. he still looked downright tormented as he dragged a trembling hand down his face. 

"if i don't stop right now... 'm not gonna be able to," he whispered. he looked down at his hands, heat spreading across his cheeks. "the things i wanna do t'you... the way i want you... 's too much. i can't. i have t'be a gentleman with you.”

your throat tightened, your stomach flipping at his words.

"michael,” you murmured softly, squeezing his hand "you are good for me. i want you. 'm not asking you to be perfect… and you don't get to make this decision all by yourself — it's my choice too"

you leaned in, your thumb tracing the back of his hand. "i don't trust anyone the way i trust you... i want this."

he held your gaze for a long moment, searching your face as if he were making sure you meant every word.

his gaze dropped to your lips, then to where your hand still held his wrist. after a brief hesitation, he turned his hand over in your grip, lacing his fingers with yours and giving them a gentle squeeze.

his free hand returned to your waist, slipping beneath the hem of your shirt as his thumb traced the curve of your hip. he leaned down, pressing a kiss into the crook of your neck before he spoke.

"i wanna make y'feel good," he murmured, his fingers drifting toward your shorts, his knuckles brushing the fabric where you needed him. "can i? can i do that for you?"

you nodded, your voice catching a little. "please."

michael let out a quiet breath, his gaze drifting around the cramped front cabin before a tiny, nervous smile tugged at the corner of his lips. he cleared his throat, a flush creeping up his neck.

"backseat?" he whispered.

you felt your face burn, a small smile breaking across your face as you bit the inside of your cheek and nodded.

you both scrambled over the console until you reached the wide bench seat in the back. you scooted back against the leather as michael climbed in after you, bracing himself above you with one hand planted beside your head and the other at your waist 

he carefully flipped your skirt up over your hips. he clumsily worked his hand along your legs while you both shifted awkwardly on the leather, trying to get comfortable. when his hand brushed your bare thigh, you shivered.

"doin' okay?" he asked, looking up at you.

"yeah," you whispered, your face feeling incredibly hot. "'m jus’ a little nervous."

"me too," he said softly. he moved his hand back up, his fingers tentatively tracing the inside of your thigh until his knuckles nudged the edge of your underwear. he stopped there, his eyes searching yours. "can i... touch you here?"

you nodded, your fingers tightening on his shoulder.

michael drew his hand back a few inches as his gaze drifted between your thighs. right in the center of your underwear, a cute little damp spot had bloomed through the cotton. the fabric clung to your skin, outlining the soft shape of your folds where it creased against your body. 

michael's breath hitched. he stared, completely transfixed. his lower lip disappeared between his teeth before he reached out, his index finger tracing the damp patch of cotton where it hugged your skin.

"you're drippin'," he whispered, his voice turning raspy as he looked back up at your face.

heat rushed to your face, and you quickly looked away. a tiny smile tugged at his mouth when he saw how flustered you were. he reached up with his other hand to guide your face back toward him, wanting to look at you.

"makes me feel good to know i do that t'you," he confessed, his eyes locked onto yours.

his fingers hooked beneath the elastic, pulling it down your legs. when his fingertips finally touched your drooling pussy, a shaky groan slipped from his lips.

he stared for a long moment, hypnotized by how puffy and swollen you were, by the way you were already spilling over, and when he parted your folds, the wetness caught in the low light filtering in from the street.

"michael," you breathed, your voice cracking. you tried to press your legs together, your hands coming down to shield yourself from his gaze. "don't... 's embarrassing."

"no, don't hide," he whispered. he caught your wrists, easing your hands away. "you're so pretty... you're leakin' all over f’me."

a small, pleading noise slipped from your lips before you can stop it.

"m-mikey, please," you begged, your hips twitching under the weight of his stare.

he leaned closer, his nose brushing against your thigh as he took another look, his fascination bordering on obsession. he watched the way your pussy glistened, completely captivated.

he mumbled something under his breath that you couldn't quite make out, sounding almost awestruck by the realization that he was the reason you were falling apart like this. then he reached out, tracing the very edge of your folds with one long finger, following the path where you were dripping.

he wasn’t just touching.

he was exploring you, his curiosity getting the better of his shyness.

he slid his finger upward, an experimental stroke that dragged the wetness over your folds. your breath caught, and michael noted the tiny hitch in your chest, his thumb pausing right where it was. he was studying you, trying to get a gauge of your reactions to what you like.

he was being uncharacteristically shameless but so attentive.

and it turned you on more than you wanted to admit.

"y'like that?" he whispered, his voice hoarse.

you gave a small nod, your hands reaching for his forearms.

michael swallowed hard. he repeated the same upward stroke, this time pressing just a little harder, his thumb lightly grazing the sensitive bundle of nerves at the top. a sharp gasp escaped you, and your hips twitched against his hand.

michael moaned in response, trapping his lower lip between his teeth. he studied you like you were something precious he didn't want to break, mapping out exactly what made you gasp and what made your body respond. then he tried a different angle, circling his thumb gently over your clit. when your eyes fluttered shut and a whimper slipped free, he let out a shaky breath against your skin.

the steady pressure of his thumb was already making your head spin. michael's breathing grew shallower, his chest rising and falling against yours as he looked down at his hand. his middle finger shifted slightly, the tip nudging against your opening before he stopped.

"michael—" you gasped, your hips twitching on his lap.

"still okay?" he asked, his eyes searching yours.

"y-yeah," you whispered, your fingers curling into his shirt. "can you give me more?"

michael swallowed hard, his face flushed. "tell me if it's too much," he whispered.

he eased his finger inside. he moved carefully, trying to find the right angle while your walls gripped him. a low, quiet moan caught in his throat from how warm and tight you felt.

you were soaking, the mess of it making everything slippery as he pushed a little deeper. the wet noise of his finger sliding against your folds was loud in the quiet car, making your face burn, but you couldn't stop your body arching into him.

when his finger curled slightly and your whole body buckled, he let out a shaky groan into the crook of your neck.

“oh— mike, fuck,” you whimpered.

he looked back up at you, his lower lip caught between his teeth, looking overwhelmed by an idea he was clearly trying to work up the nerve to ask.

"can i..." he started. he cleared his throat, a deeper flush creeping up his neck. "will y'let me taste you? please?"

your heart skipped a beat, your fingers tightening in the fabric of his shirt. when you gave a small nod, the tension in his shoulders melted away. carefully, he eased his finger out of you, the soft sound of the release making you both shiver.

"lay back f'me," he whispered. 

you let your elbows slide out from under you, easing back onto the wide leather bench seat. the smooth leather felt cool against your skin.

he shifted his weight, moving down between your legs, angling himself on the lower edge of the seat.

he rested his hands on the insides of your thighs, his fingers tracing upward until he had a clear view of you. he stared for a beat before lowering his head.

looking down at him, your chest ached with how beautiful he was. his skin looked soft under the dim light, and those huge, deep brown eyes of his were wide and completely focused on you, framed by thick lashes. even with his curls a little messy and his face completely flushed with nerves, he looked so striking it almost made you forget to breathe.

you felt his breath first — hot and shallow, panting softly against your cunt — and you went still under him, your stomach tightening as his hair tickled your thighs.

he still hadn't moved and you were squirming just waiting for him to do something.

he lifted his eyes to yours, the contact hitting like lightning.

there was so much written across his face — hunger, reverence, something almost possessive — but it was the softness that broke you. the slight twitch of his eyebrows.

slowly, michael leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your inner thigh, his breath ghosting over your skin. then another, a little higher this time, right at the crease where you leg met your hips. and finally he lowered his head closer to your core, never once breaking eye contact, before he leaned in and licked you.

a slow lick from bottom to top, with the flat of his tongue. you let out a sharp gasp, your hands flying to grip the edges of the seat cushions as your hips jolted.

and he groaned, a sound so filthy that you felt it through your cunt, all the way to your spine.

he began using his tongue in slow upward strokes, mirroring the way he'd touched you with his fingers. he was so gentle, his tongue warm and wet as it dragged through your slickness, parting your folds to get closer. when he swept a little higher and lapped directly over your clit, a loud whimper broke from your lips.

michael let out a low groan against your skin, the vibration sending a shiver through your inner thighs. he pressed his face closer, his nose nudging into your wetness as his strokes grew wider, hungrier, fumbling his way into a steady rhythm as he drank you in.

"y’taste so good," he rushed out. "so sweet. god, you're so wet."

he was obsessed with every sound coming out of you and wanted to hear more. he slid his middle finger back inside your slick opening, drawing another broken sound from you as your hips jolted off the leather.

michael's nose nudged against your clit as he let out a shaky breath against your skin. he pushed his finger a little deeper, trying to find a rhythm between the lapping of his tongue and the slide of his hand. he experimented with different pressures until his fingertip nudged against a rougher, textured spot along your gummy walls. your entire body convulsed.

a cry tore from your throat, your fingers instantly tangling in his soft curls to pull him closer. 

michael let out a muffled moan against your inner thigh. realizing what he'd just stumbled onto, he tentatively pressed his finger against that same spot again, curling it just a fraction while his tongue swirled over your clit.

"does that feel good?" he whispered against your skin. he didn't pull away, his mouth still hovering there.

"y-yes," you choked out, your hips twitching against the seat. "mikey, feels so good."

he buried his face back into you. he sucked on your clit while his finger gently hooked that spot again. the sensation was so overwhelming your eyes rolled back. you were dripping, the wet sounds of his finger working inside you blending with the sound of his breathing. he kept tracing that sweet spot, his finger prodding clumsily, completely losing himself in the way your body buckled and shuddered beneath his mouth.

but the closer he worked you toward the edge, the more his own desire built. his breathing grew louder as he kept his face buried against you.

"you're doin’ so good," he murmured.

he was so worked up, so overwhelmed by how wet you were — and god, those noises spilling from your lips.

without realizing it, he started grinding into the leather seat cushions, rubbing against them to find some relief while he worked you over.

michael was determined to make you cum, he needed to feel it. 

he shifted his angle, his hands sliding beneath your thighs and lifting them, draping your legs over his shoulders as he pulled you closer.

you cried out, because he was even deeper. his face was pressed into you, tongue flattening out again and dragging hard over your entrance.

and then he pushed in, tongue-fucking you. he wasn't even coming up for air, like he didn't even want to.

you could hear the obscene, sloppy sounds of his fingers fucking into you, the suction of his lips over your clit and his moans — god he moaned so much — but you weren't doing much better.

every attempt at a coherent thought dissolved into broken mewls and breathless squeaks. you were climbing so fast you could barely comprehend the pleasure rushing through you.

he lined two fingers this time, sliding into you in one smooth motion, palm facing up. his knuckles dragged across the slick heat of your entrance, easing past the resistance like you were made to take him.

he found that heavenly spot again, pressing into it until you were seeing stars.

your thighs began to tremble, your toes curling as the muscles around his fingers clamped down hard.

"fuck, michael— wait, 'm gonna—"

you couldn't even finish the sentence. your hips jerked off the seat, your body going rigid as the first wave of pleasure crashed through you. a loud cry tore from your throat as your fingers flew to his hair.

michael let out a muffled groan against you as your walls began to spasm around his fingers, squeezing them in pulsing waves. he stayed right there, working you through it as your sweet release slipped around his fingers, creating embarrassing squelching noises. he panted heavily against your inner thighs, trapped between your legs while you shook.

his fingers slowly slipped out of you as he exhaled, the motion drawing another twitch from you. he pushed himself back until he was sitting on his heels. he looked like a wreck — his face flushed, his lips wet all the way to his chin. he swallowed hard, glancing down at his hand before lifting his eyes to yours.

"you okay?" he whispered, his voice thick. "was that alright?"

a soft laugh escaped you. "yeah, it was perfect. you sure you haven’t done this before?"

he let out a breathless laugh, equal parts relief and embarrassment. he looked out the window, rubbing the back of his neck with his clean hand as the dark skin flushed deeper. "never."

you reached out, wrapping your hand around the back of his neck and gently pulling him toward you.

eagerly, he leaned into you until his chest pressed against yours. when your lips met, the kiss was soft at first, filled with quiet gratitude, before it slowly deepened. you could still taste yourself on his tongue, and it made your head spin.

he groaned softly into your mouth, his clean hand coming up to cup your jaw, his thumb brushing your cheek as he kissed you again like he couldn't stop. when you finally pulled apart for air, his forehead rested against yours, his breath warm against your lips.

his gaze flicked to the analogue clock on the dashboard, and he let out a soft sigh.

“‘s getting real late." he whispered as he reached down to find your panties, handing them over to you with a gentle look. "i should get y'home before your family starts worryin’ 'bout where you're at. i don't want 'em thinkin' bad of you... or me." 

you laughed softly as you pulled your panties back on. "i know you're just worried about your own reputation, mr. gentleman."

michael laughed.

the ride back that night wasn't nearly as tense as you'd expected. when he dropped you off, you waved a quick goodbye before practically sprinting inside, your heart doing flips the whole way.

michael had gone home that night in a daze, staring up at his ceiling until the sun came up. he could still feel the dizzying taste of you still lingering on his tongue.

every time he closed his eyes, his mind flashed back to the way you ground down against him. he couldn't shake the memory of those little moans slipping from your lips whenever he'd rub against you just right. it had taken everything in him not to cum in his pants.

though, what happened after that was between him and the four walls of his bedroom.

on the other hand, every time you tried to do something productive, your mind wandered.

all you could think about was how his dick had twitched against your clit through your jeans — god, he'd felt so big. even through two layers of denim, he felt so thick, so hard beneath you. you could still feel the pressure of his fingers digging into your hips, dragging you down so he could grind up into you harder. your underwear had been soaking wet, rubbing against him.

and fuck, his mouth.

you couldn’t stop your mind from going to the dirtiest places. if he was that needy without even being touched, what would he be if you actually did more? you couldn’t help but picture him pinning you down on a bed, gripping your thighs to pull them wide open, and just rutting himself inside you— 

no. what were you thinking?

you shoved yourself up from the bed, practically marching into the bathroom before you could let your mind wander any further down that rabbit hole.

turning the tap all the way to the right, you waited until the water ran freezing cold before splashing a handful over your face. the icy shock hit your skin like a slap, stealing a gasp from your lungs as water dripped down your neck and into the collar of your shirt.

you grabbed a towel and dried your face before staring at yourself in the mirror.

get a grip. what is wrong with you?

you headed back to your bedroom, finally feeling a little more grounded. the second you sat down, the phone rang. it was michael, his voice soft and hesitant as he asked if you wanted to come over for a while.

before you could even talk yourself out of it, you were pulling into his driveway.

stepping into his house, the familiar warmth of the place did nothing to settle the nerves twisting in your gut. 

michael greeted you with a small smile before gesturing toward the stairs. 

you followed him upstairs, the familiar routine of making your way to his bedroom easing some of the tension in your chest. once inside, michael crossed the room to switch on his stereo, keeping the music low while you kicked off your shoes and settled onto the carpet with your back against the side of his mattress.

when he turned around and saw you'd already claimed the floor, he laughed softly before flopping face-down onto the bed. he slid down until his head hung over the edge.

"you're really gonna sit on the floor? there's a whole bed right here," he said, his voice all soft.

"yeah, well, the carpet is cooler. plus, you take up the whole mattress anyway," you said, resting your arms on your knees.

"i do not," he scoffed, rolling onto his back to stare up at the ceiling. he tucked his hands behind his head.

you fell back into your usual conversation.

you both were great at not addressing the elephant in the room.

a wave of relief washed over you as you listened to him ramble about some silly show he'd stayed up watching the night before. you'd spent the entire drive over with sweaty palms, convinced he was going to sit you down and talk about what happened in his car.

just listening to the sound of his voice, the knot in your chest finally began to loosen. your mind was still a little loud — it was impossible to completely forget the way he'd gripped your hips — but his easy, familiar energy grounded you. he wasn't pushing or making things awkward, and for the first time in days, it almost felt like nothing had changed.

"oh, wait, i almost forgot," michael said, popping up onto his elbows. he looked down at you, his eyes bright with that boyish excitement he always got whenever he had something new to show you. "i got something yesterday. hold on."

he scrambled off the bed and padded over to his closet. after rummaging around for a moment, he pulled out a colourful cardboard box.

"twister?" you asked, reading the bold letters on the front as he walked back over.

"yeah!" he grinned, dropping to his knees on the carpet as he tore the plastic wrap off the box. "i saw it the other day and i had to get it."

you chuckled, shaking your head as you crawled over to help him clear a space on the bedroom floor.

"michael, you know you're way too flexible for this to be a fair fight."

"that's not true," he scoffed, shaking out the large white mat covered in bright red, blue, yellow, and green dots. "you have good balance. 's totally fair. here, you spin first."

he tossed the little cardboard spinner toward you, and for the first ten minutes, it was just stupid fun. you kept up your usual chatter, laughing and teasing each other every time the spinner landed on something inconvenient.

it felt normal.

but the game had no intention of letting it stay that way.

"left hand, green," michael muttered, reaching over his own arm to flick the spinner. he glanced down at where the arrow landed before looking back up at you with a grin. "right foot, red for you."

you groaned, eyeing the mat. to reach the only open red dot, you had to stretch directly over him. keeping both hands planted on their blue dots, you lifted your hips and stretched your leg across, hovering right above him.

michael was propped up on his left hand and right foot, waiting for you to make your move. but the second you shifted, his breath caught.

from where he was on the floor, he had an unobstructed, up-close view of your ass, the fabric of your shorts pulled taut as you stretched into the awkward position.

michael's brain blanked. the playful comment he was about to make died in his throat. he tried — he really did — to look away.

he blinked hard, forcing his gaze toward the closet door, then down to his hand on the green dot as his breathing picked up.

but it was like a magnet. his gaze snapped right back to you, tracing the curve of your hips as his mind flashed to the heat of his car a few nights ago — to the memory of exactly how it had felt to hold you right there.

heat flooded his veins, burning all the way up to the tips of his ears. 

"okay," you said, letting out a breath as your foot settled on the red dot. "your turn. spin it."

the mat had become so crowded that michael had to awkwardly lean over his own arm to reach the spinner again, letting out a strained laugh as he stretched across the mat. as he shifted, you adjusted to give him room.

"don't move," you panted, your arms beginning to shake. "if you move, i'm gonna fall."

"i'm trying, i swear—" michael started, a breathless laugh escaping him as he glanced up at you. but his foot slipped on the smooth plastic.

you let out a yelp before collapsing straight onto him. the two of you tumbled into a tangled heap, laughing as you landed sprawled across his chest, your hips settling over his lap.

for a second, you were both recovering from the fall, your laughter echoing in the bedroom. but as your giggles faded and you leaned up on your elbows to look down at him, the amusement vanished.

michael went still beneath you. his hands hovered uncertainly by your waist, trembling as though he didn't know where to put them. he stared straight up at you, his chest rising and falling beneath yours, his lips slightly parted as his breath caught. up this close, his eyes were wide, his pupils so blown they nearly swallowed the brown of his irises.

it felt like the universe was doing everything it could to push you together. you were seriously starting to think you'd jinxed yourself. every time you convinced yourself things were finally back to normal, the universe found a way to prove you wrong within minutes.

because beneath the fabric of your shorts, you felt the unmistakable hardness growing against your thigh.

michael’s gaze darted to where your hips were pressed against his. he looked mortified, caught red-handed in a way he couldn't hide.

his hands came to rest at your waist. with the gentlest touch, he tried to ease you back and off him.

"'m sorry," he whispered, his voice real soft as he gave you a small, embarrassed smile. "it'll go away if y'just... give me a minute."

the way you were looking at him had him bringing up both his hands up, burying his face in his palms to hide the crimson flushing his cheeks.

he looked so sweet and so overwhelmed. it made you lean down closer towards him.

"I swear I didn't invite y’over for this," his muffled voice came from behind his hands. He slowly lowered his palms, his dark skin flushed a deep crimson all the way to the tips of his ears as he looked up at you. "I jus’ wanted to hang out with you… like before."

you bit the inside of your cheeks. "i know, mikey," you said, your voice steady despite the racing of your heart. "’s been weird not seeing you as much the last few days.”

“yeah?”

"yeah," you murmured, looking down at him. now that you were this close, keeping up the casual front was getting harder. "but if i'm being honest... i haven't really been able to stop thinking about it. ever since the couch... and the car."

michael's eyes searched yours, his features softening as the tension melted from his shoulders. he let out a long, slow exhale, his head settling back against the carpet.

when he looked at you again, his gaze wandered over your face, lingering like he was trying to memorize every detail.

"i missed you these last few days... and i miss y'now, even when you're sittin' right here." he swallowed. "i jus'..." he whispered, searching your face. "i jus' wanna be close t'you."

his fingertips tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear. "i wanna hold you." his voice faltered. "i don't wanna keep pretendin' this doesn't mean somethin'."

he let out a slow breath, his forehead nearly brushing yours. "...i think i need you more than i know what t'do with."

for a moment, you couldn't find a single thing to say. a surge of giddiness hit you so hard you had to fight to keep your face from splitting into a grin. you desperately swallowed down the high-pitched squeal threatening to bubble up your throat, forcing yourself to keep it together so you wouldn't give away just how badly he'd short-circuited your brain. 

so you did the only thing you could think of.

you leaned down and kissed him, your hands framing his face, your fingers curling against his jaw as you pulled him up to you. 

the kiss spoke for itself, pouring every ounce of the frustration and longing you couldn't put into words straight into his mouth.

you parted your lips, sliding your tongue against his with an urgency that drew a muffled gasp from him. 

the sound only made you press closer, your chest flattening against his as you drank him in. 

there was a profound ache to the kiss. almost like the release of all the secret longing he'd been hiding away for days. it felt like he was pouring his whole soul into your mouth, every stroke of his tongue tracing a quiet plea against yours. he kissed you like a man who had been starving in the dark, his lips sealing over yours with a reverent hunger that made your chest ache. 

he dragged his mouth away from yours, his breath coming in shallow puffs as he kissed a trail down your cheek, his lips hot against your skin. he pressed a string of kisses along your chin and jaw before his mouth found your neck. 

a quiet moan slipped from your lips as he found the sensitive spot just beneath your ear. his lips parted as he sucked gently at the soft skin, the drag of his mouth making your hips twitch against his lap. 

you slid your hand down his chest, past his belt, until your palm rested over the hard ridge beneath the fabric, giving it a gentle squeeze.

michael choked on his breath, his hand flying to still your wrist.

"i wanna make you feel good too, mikey.”

"y'don't have to... 's not good for you," he whispered, his fingers trembling around your wrist. 

"not good for me?" you murmured, tilting your head. "but it was fine for you to do it to me?"

he bit his lip, looking away. "'s different f'you. you're... you're a lady. i don't want you messin' with somethin'... like that." 

you bit back a smile. "like what?"

"somethin'... dirty," he mumbled, avoiding your eyes.

“michael, you tongue-fucked me in the backseat of your car, but this is where you draw the line?”

your blunt words made him look like he wanted the floor to open up and swallow him whole. he immediately buried his face behind both hands, heat rushing into his cheeks. 

"d-don't say it like that," he mumbled from behind his hands. 

you laughed softly, pressing a kiss to his knuckles before gently pulling his hands away. 

leaning closer, you pressed a soft kiss to his jaw, dragging your lips to the sensitive skin just underneath his ear. “please let me, mikey. i want to. don’t you wanna feel good?”

his fingers reached up to gently tangle in your hair, holding you close.

"i do..." he whispered. he swallowed hard, a tiny smile tugging at his lips. "i want to so bad... it's jus' scary. y'make me... so nervous." he let out a quiet laugh before biting his lower lip.

"me? make you nervous?" you murmured, a smile tugging at your lips.

instead of answering, michael slid his hand from your hair, trailing down your arm until his palm found yours. he wrapped his fingers around your hand and guided it to his chest, pressing your palm firmly over his heart, letting you feel how rapidly it was beating. 

"see?" he whispered, his eyes locked on yours. 

you let out a quiet breath before taking his other hand and guiding it to the center of your chest, your heart hammering just as hard beneath his palm.

a soft exhale escaped him before his fingers slid from your chest to cup your jaw. he caught your lips in a kiss, sealing his mouth over yours. 

slowly, you broke the kiss and shifted off him, moving until you were kneeling between his legs at the edge of the twister mat. michael's breath caught, his arms falling back against the carpet, his fingers gripping the edge of the plastic mat as he watched you. the room felt impossibly quiet now, the low music from his stereo nothing more than a distant hum beneath the sound of his shallow breathing.

looking down at the waistband of his trousers, a fresh wave of nerves washed over you. you couldn't believe you were seeing michael — of all people — like this.

your fingers trembled as you reached out, your knuckles brushing the fabric. you worked the button of his trousers loose, the click of the metal loud in the quiet room. carefully, you pulled his zipper down. 

michael's stomach rolled as he drew in a heavy breath, his abdomen tightening while you parted the denim and gently eased his underwear down just enough. 

when he finally sprang free, your breath caught. he was thick, long, already glistening at the tip, the length of him pulsing faintly in the light.

tentatively, you wrapped your fingers around the base of him, giving him a soft, experimental squeeze. 

michael let out a sharp hiss through his teeth, his eyes squeezing shut as his back stiffened against the side of the bed.

"o-oh— my—" he gasped, his knuckles paling where around the carpet under his hands. 

"am i hurting you?" you asked, your hand halting.

"no, no," he rushed out between heavy breaths. he glanced down at your hand around him before lifting his eyes back to yours, his voice dropping into a shaky murmur. "jus'... 's real sensitive. your hands are cold." 

you let out a breathy laugh. “‘m sorry.”

wanting to tease him a little, you extended your index finger. carefully, you traced the pad of your finger along the prominent vein running beneath his length. 

michael let out a strained groan, his hips squirming weakly against the floor. you kept your eyes on his face, watching his eyelids flutter and his throat bob with every stroke. 

when your hand reached the very top, you lightened your touch until it was barely there. using just the tip of your finger, you slowly circled the crown, swirling through the clear bead of pre-cum gathering there. 

a loud whimper slipped from his lips, his hips jerking upward. he bit down hard on his lower lip, his chest rising and falling with uneven breaths. he didn't think he'd ever been more turned on in his life. 

"please," he breathed, his voice cracking as his eyes grew glassy. "please don't tease me."

"but you like it, don't you?" you murmured, a smile tugging at your lips.

michael let out a strained sound, his head falling back as he stared helplessly at the ceiling. 

"don't you, mikey?" you coaxed.

"don't... don't make me say it," he whispered, an embarrassed laugh slipping free as his shoulders shook. 

you smiled but didn't press him any further. instead, you shifted closer, leaning down between his thighs as your hand stroked him with more purpose, your thumb smoothing over the ridge. 

when you finally parted your lips and took the warm, wet tip of him into your mouth, michael let out a broken moan, gasping as you swirled your tongue around the crown. his eyebrows pinched together as he looked down at you.

your long lashes cast soft shadows against your flushed cheeks as your eyes lifted to meet his. his chest tightened. he couldn't stop staring at the way your lips moved around him, at the shine of your mouth every time you pulled back before taking him in again. you looked so pretty.

too pretty to be doing this to him.

every filthy thought he'd been too embarrassed to let himself have came rushing forward all at once, and for the first time, he didn't have it in him to push them away.

all he wanted was more. deeper. slower. again. he didn't know where one thought ended and the next began anymore. his hands flew straight up to cover his mouth, trying to muffle helpless whimpers spilling out.

and you took that as a challenge to see just how loud you could get him.

you wrapped your fingers firmly around his base, your hand acting as an anchor. you focused entirely on the very top. you parted your lips just enough to take the sensitive crown back into your mouth, using the flat of your tongue to apply a heavy pressure, dragging it flat across the ridge in long strokes.

above you, michael's entire body stiffened. a gasp caught behind his palms.

you didn't give him a second to recover. keeping your tongue flat against the underside of the tip, you swirled it in tight circles right over the slit, matching the pace with a pulsing squeeze of your hand at the base.

a high, broken whine tore from his throat, his hands flying to your head as his lower body gave a helpless twitch, his hips lifting off the carpet. he tried to ground himself, his long legs tensing, but god, you were killing him.

the slick sound of your mouth sucking him so greedily was so filthy.

michael's hips jerked upward again, pushing him deeper into your mouth. 

just as he was about to apologize, you swallowed past the tightness in your throat and hummed against him. the vibration drew a pathetic little squeak from him.

you wrapped your free hand around the very base of him, twisting your palm as you slid it up to meet your lips, catching the trailing wetness before spreading it back down his length. your mouth settled into a slow, sloppy rhythm. 

you pushed forward, taking his dick deeper down your throat than before. the heavy stretch forced a gag from your chest, tears welling up in your eyes and spilling over your lashes from the intrusion.

he was practically trying to run from you, backing up until his shoulders bumped against the edge of the bed, trapped between the frame and the pull of your mouth. 

you kept your eyes on his, taking in every flicker of pleasure across his face, every flutter of his lashes, every pinch of his brows. you wanted to remember him exactly like this, committing every twitch of his jaw and every dark flush to memory. 

watching him lose himself underneath you made your own core throb. you subtly pressed your thighs together, hoping the pressure would dull the ache. it didn't. 

"w-wait, wait, 'm gonna— ah—" 

his voice broke completely, a high, panicked whimper tearing through the room as his abdomen knotted.

michael panicked, realizing you weren't getting off. his hand frantically shot down to grip your shoulder, trying to pull you up and off him, desperate to keep you from getting a mouthful of something he was convinced would gross you out. 

but you weren't a quitter.

you gently brushed his hands away, tightening your grip on his base without pulling away. 

he came with a loud, broken groan, his hips giving three jolts forward. your name slipped from his lips in a breathless whine that you knew would replay in your mind for days. you held him tight through the tremors, swallowing down the hot bursts of his cum, continuing to suck softly even as his body shivered and went lax against the edge of the bed.

when the final twitch subsided, you slowly slid your mouth off him, the wet sound of the release echoing in the quiet of the bedroom. you swallowed the last of him, cleaning up the stray wetness along his length with a slow swipe of your tongue before sitting back on your heels.

michael was a puddle against the side of his bed. his chest was heaving in deep drafts, one arm flung over his eyes while the other lay limp across the carpet, his fingers still twitching every now and then. the deep crimson in his cheeks had spread all the way down his neck, disappearing beneath the collar of his shirt. 

michael let out a weak little groan from beneath his arm as you tucked him back into his pants. slowly, he peeked out from under his elbow, his large, glassy eyes lifting to you as you climbed back over him. 

he reached out, his fingers finding yours before gently pulling your hand toward him. he lifted it to his mouth, pressing a soft kiss into the center of your palm, his lips warm against your skin. 

bringing his face close to yours, he leaned in, his eyelids fluttering shut as he pressed a tender kiss to your left cheek, then your right, his curls brushing against your face. when he finally found your lips, the kiss was slow and so, so sweet.

you pulled back just an inch, your fingers resting on his shoulders as you looked down at his flushed face. a playful smile tugged at the corner of his lips. 

“i won, by the way.”

michael let out a quiet huff of a laugh, his shoulders shaking beneath you.

"you did not," he protested "the mat was slippery, 's all. it don't count."

"it does count," you laughed, finally climbing off him to sit cross-legged on the carpet.

"absolutely not. you fell right on top of me!"

"yeah, because you moved and made me fall!" you shot back, gesturing at the crumpled plastic. "you lost your footing, michael. just admit it."

“i didn’t lose because the game was rigged," he insisted.

"keep telling yourself that."

"y’know what, i will," he murmured, a soft grin breaking across his face.

you rolled your eyes, reaching over to help him gather up the ruined twister mat that was probably headed straight for the trash.

you were glad the awkwardness of the last few days had finally melted away. you and michael were still the same two idiots arguing over who won a game of twister.

the only thing that had changed was everything in between.

───୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ───

im so bad at writing endings like GODDDDD

and twister positions

i had a bit of a diff vision for this originally but unfortunately i stink with words so i'll see if i can make up for it in a potenial p3

also his confession was (loosely) inspired by the intro of his song, i can't stop loving you :p

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Your eyes flicked down to where he was gripping your thigh, the veins popping in his hand and you had to bite down on your lip to remind yourself to behave.

Glancing up as the car weaved around the winding roads that led up the mountain side, you watched Michael carefully as he drove the car with his other hand. His jaw set and eyes hidden behind his sunglasses.

It wasn’t often he drove, Bill usually being the one to take him wherever he wanted to go. So when you walked out of your house to see him behind the wheel, your brows furrowed.

“You okay?” You’d asked, cautious. Something was clearly bothering him.

“M’ fine.” He muttered, smile small and not quite reaching his eyes. “Just wanted a little privacy.”

And now here you were, the car rolling to a stop in the dirt in an empty spot that overlooked Los Angeles. The sun beginning to set and dusting the sky in oranges and pinks.

He shut the car off, the radio still faintly playing music and he sighed as he leaned back in his seat.

You turned, observing for a moment. The way stress seemed to coil tightly in his body. You knew Joseph had been giving him a hard time lately. If you could even say that, given it was more like always.

“What’s on your mind?” Your voice was quiet, your hand coming down as you gently played with his fingers that still rested on your legs.

He sighed, the breath coming out long and slow. “I just need a break.”

You hummed, thumb tracing over his knuckles. “Moving out still not an option?”

He shook his head, gaze focused on the city in front of him.

You dropped it there, knowing there was no point in pushing. His family always being a complicated topic to navigate.

“I’m sorry.”

Michael rolled his head to the side, his lips tugging up a bit. “You don’t have to be.”

“I know, but… still. I know it’s not easy.”

He tugged on your hand, bringing you closer, his other hand coming up to hold the side of your throat. “It’s not, but you help make it bearable.” Then he was kissing you, the pressure of his mouth against yours even. His tongue running along your lips before slipping past them, tracing the inside of your cheek and you hummed in content. Fingers digging into the fabric of his shirt to get him closer.

How you two ended up on the hood of his car was a bit of a blur. Something you didn’t really care to dwell on, given you were preoccupied as you moaned. Hands in his hair as he left open and wet kisses along your throat, his hands dancing up under shirt to palm your breasts. Groaning into your skin because you weren’t wearing a bra.

When his hips rolled into you and you whimpered, he paused. Leaning back a bit to look at you, his pupils blown and lids heavy. His teeth sinking into his bottom lip as he debated something.

You were flushed with arousal, your legs on either side of him as his hips settled against yours and not a care in the world that you two were technically in public.

“What?” You asked, voice a rasp.

“Can we do it here?”

Your mouth went a little dry at the thought, a warm feeling swirling low in your stomach.

“Mhm.” You smiled at the delighted look that came over his face, simply happy to see the stress of his life melting away and content that you could help somehow.

Your breath hitched when his hands slid up your thighs and under your skirt, pushing the fabric up around your hips and groaning at the damp spot that was showing through your panties.

“So needy,” he said, teeth sinking into his lip as his thumb ran over the wetness of the cotton and your back arched when it slid over your clit.

“Michael, please.” You didn’t mean to, but it came out as a whine. The sound music to his ears as he knelt down, spreading your pussy open under the fabric and mouth latching onto you.

A cry left you, hands burying in his hair as your hips bucked up to meet his lips as he ate you out through your underwear. Feeling incredibly damp, the fabric sticking to you like a second skin with a mixture of your arousal and his saliva. His tongue adding the perfect amount of pressure as it rolled against your clit, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your thighs.

“Michael—“

“That’s it,” he hummed against you, the vibrations shooting straight into your cunt.

You’d hardly registered him moving your underwear to the side as you felt two of his long and thick fingers sink into you slowly, the sudden pressure and fullness a shock to the nerves and you shouted. Slapping a hand over your mouth to muffle the sound as he started to finger fuck you with a relentless pace, his mouth leaving your clit for a moment as he tugged your hand away. “I wanna hear you, mama.”

Your fingers fell back into his hair, desperate to hold onto something as he curled his fingers and you went tumbling off the edge. Your orgasm rocking into you and the pleasure only doubling as you looked down, his eyes meeting yours and he was grinning as his tongue lapped you up.

“Fuck, Mikey.”

Your chest was heaving as he stood up, watching in what must’ve been unchecked lust as he undid his belt and pants. His hand disappearing beneath the hem of his boxers before he pulled his cock out. The skin like velvet and the head swollen and glistening as it leaked pre-cum.

You bit your lip hard, whimpering at the sight as he pumped himself a few times, stepping closer to the hood of the car and taking hold of your hips.

“You gonna take it like a good girl? Make me feel better?”

You nodded, your enthusiasm comical and he laughed. The sound short and sharp as he took hold of himself and dragged the tip up and down your pussy, gathering wetness and loving the way your body twitched as the head rubbed against your clit.

When he sank into you, you both groaned. Michael watching with heavy eyes as his cock sank into your swollen pussy, your wetness making the inside of your thighs shine in the setting sun.

You threw your head back at being filled, the head of his cock gently bumping into your cervix as he gave you a moment to adjust.

Michael’s fingers ran gently up and down your sides, admiring you in the low lighting and breath hitching when he saw the slight bump of himself in your lower abdomen. “You look so fucking pretty.”

He then pressed his palm flat down where he could see his cock and you nearly convulsed against him, your jaw dropping open from the feeling.

“Jesus—“

He slowly pulled out, his sanity taking a back seat at the feeling of your warm and tight pussy gripping him in protest, before slamming back in.

He groaned, the sound being yanked right from his diaphragm as you cried out his name. His fingers dug into your hips, his nails leaving bloody crescents and he didn’t have it in him to feel bad. Too pussy drunk as he set a relentless, nearly violent pace as his hips rolled into yours. Seeing the way your cunt greedily ate him up each time, his cock covered in your release and his head rolled back, eyes shutting as the lewd sound of skin slapping skin echoed around them in the empty evening air.

Your back arched off the metal, your own fingers digging into his forearms. Pathetic sounds leaving your mouth as he fucked you. All of his anger and frustration pouring out into the action of love making.

It nearly hurt. His hips snapping into yours, muscle and bone colliding and your cervix being abused— but it was also lovely. Knowing he felt safe enough with you to let go like this. To see him completely unravel when he tried to keep such a pristine reputation for the rest of the world.

You clenched at the thought, dancing on the edge of an orgasm and at the feeling his eyes slid back to you.

Michael’s smile was lazy, despite the way he was fucking you. “You enjoying this? Taking my cock so well out here,” he then leaned down, lips dusting against your throat and the new angle was maddening. His pelvis dragging against your clit with each thrust. “You like getting fucked in public, mama? Should I do it more often?”

You whimpered, nails digging into his back through his shirt.

His hips snapped into yours harsher. “Answer me, baby.”

“Yes! I love it,” You cried, hot tears starting to slip out of your eyes as your orgasm started to crash over you. Your whole body trembling and he groaned as he bit down into your neck as you pulsed around his cock.

Michael’s thrusts became erratic, rutting into you so hard the car rocked against the gravel and not a moment later he cried out your name, burying his cock in as deep as he could go as he filled you up with his cum, desperate to keep every drop inside of you where it belonged.

୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧

michael jackson masterlist

taglist: @solarrandom @mjssluttyfish @tojiswifeforlife @sometranslationnoteru @sunshineyrosie @swgarpeas @amoravelee @softchaosdiary04 @slugstarzz @unknown11 @redemptioninthe4ethers @saberlight1 @roseidol @iimsopretty @auroralwriting @thottiepebbless16 @wannabestartinsmth @delicate-ray-of-sunshine @devynrulesboisdrool @loverstar014 @mjjsangel @uconnwbbloversworld1 @ghzfj @18lkpeters @devilslittlehelper @cherubae111 @ursamajor17 @sarcasmismyfirstlove @bbpanth3rr @brainacidsstuff @fayleyy @lovern-9 @jxngwons-pinkyy @veraberaxx @qultpur @thrill3rnights @arzua10 @michaelcomeback @coornballz @escapefromrealitylol @rorawrnoa-zoro @ooooglymoooogly @tellybearryyyy @softchaosdiary505 @yennabow @sparklyglove @khxna @grumpyy-bearr

The laughter downstairs carried through the walls anyway. Someone had started another round of "Happy Birthday," though half the kids had already abandoned the song in favor of yelling over each other.

The music from downstairs dulled instantly. Michael didn't even look at you. Instead, he crossed his arms and stared out the window like he'd been personally wronged by the sun. You sighed. "Really?" still no answer. "Michael." Still nothing. "Oh, so we're doing the silent treatment now?"

"I have nothin' to say." You blinked. "Then why did you drag me in here?" His jaw flexed. "I didn't drag you."

"You literally grabbed my wrist."

"I guided you." You laughed once. "You're so unbelievable."

"So are you."

"What does that mean?" He finally turned. "What does it mean?" He gestured toward you. "You're wearing that."

You looked down at your dress. The black one.

The one that hugged your waist just right, dipped a little lower in the back, and had earned the nickname 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙠𝙞𝙨𝙨 𝙢𝙚 𝙝𝙖𝙧𝙙 𝙙𝙧𝙚𝙨𝙨 years ago, because every single time you wore it, Michael couldn't keep his hands off you.

Back when he was your husband. "It's a dress, Michael..get over it."

"It is not just a dress."

"It absolutely is." He scoffed. "You know exactly what dress that is."

"Oh god."

"You wore it on our anniversary in Paris. You wore it when we renewed our vows, goodness.. you wore it when i couldn't stop makin' love to you."

"That was eleven years ago." His face twisted. "You don't have to remind me miss." Your lips pressed together. "You don't get to tell me what I wear anymore."

"I know."

"But you're acting like you do."

"I know."

"So what's the problem?" He looked away. His voice came out quieter. "I don't like other men looking at you."

Your face slightly softens. "...Michael." He looks up. "I don't."

"You lost that privilege." You said with no empathy. "I know." He laughed bitterly, rubbing the back of his neck. "Believe me, I'm painfully aware." The tension softened.

You hated when his voice did that. That tiny crack. That little glimpse of the man you'd built fifteen years of your life with. "You looked..." He searched for the words. "Beautiful."

Your heart jumped. "I couldn't stop noticing." His gaze dipped "You weren't supposed to." You tease.

"And every man downstairs was looking at you." You folded your arms. "Were they?" He shot you a look. "Don't do that." A smile tugged at your lips. "Are you jealous?"

"No." He said fast. "look at me...michael." and he did. "I'm irritated." You roll your eyes. "That's jealousy."

"It's different."

"It really isn't." He groaned dramatically, dropping into your brother's desk chair. "I hate this."

"What?"

"Being divorced." Your smile faded. "I hate that I can't walk over and put my hand on your waist." He looked at the floor. "I hate that I have to pretend it doesn't bother me." Another beat of silence. Then, from the hallway— "uncle applehead?"

Both your heads snapped toward the door.Your brother's oldest son. Cameron, muffled voice came through.

"Auntie (name)? Uncle bryan said we're taking a family picture." You and Michael exchanged a look.

He stood, straightening his jacket. "You still drive me crazy," he muttered.You smirked. "Oh, I know."

"...You wore that dress on purpose." you bite your lips. "I did." His eyes widened. "You are evil." You grinned all the way out the door. "And yet..." You glanced over your shoulder. "...you married me."

He couldn't even argue. He just shook his head with the tiniest, most lovesick smile. "Cameron..tell uncle bryan we're a little busy 'kay?"

ᯓᡣ𐭩.ᐟ ⊹

he murmured, his hand brushing your cheek. "Let Daddy take care of his girl, hm?" His words made your heart skip and your thighs clench around him as he lined himself up with you.

The first slow push had you gasping. He was still stretching you inch by inch after all this years, your nails pressing into his back as he moved carefully.

"O-oh sooo good," he groaned, burying his face in your neck. "Still so tight—So warm, baby.." Your breath hitched, eyes fluttering shut as your body adjusted to the feeling of him...so big, filling you so deeply you couldn’t think.

"You’re doing so good, sweetheart," he whispered, kissing your shoulder as he bottomed out. He stayed still for a second, letting you breathe, his hand still holding your waist, his touch grounding. Then slowly, he began to move. Your moans were soft at first, breathy and needy, hands gripping onto his back like it was the only thing grounding you.

But then he started to go deeper. His hips snapped forward harder, more purposeful, and your sounds shifted, whimpers, then moans, broken and high-pitched.

He groaned low in your ear, his pace steady but rough, his large hands locked tight around your waist. "Y-you feel that, mama?" he rasped, eyes dropping down between your bodies.

You blinked through the pleasure, dazed and flushed, until you followed his gaze, and your breath hitched. There. A faint bump rising under the skin of your stomach every time he drove into you.

"Look at that," he muttered, voice full of awe. "You feel me here, huh, sweetheart?" Your lips parted, no words coming, just a shaky moan as he flattened his palm over the bulge. You trembled under him as he pressed down, and your body clenched tight around him.

"Shit," he hissed, "You’re so Beautiful, mama. Can y'feel every inch of me?" You nodded frantically, tears almost pricking your eyes from how full you were, from how deep he was.

"C-can’t believe I’m this d-deep in you," he growled, thrusting up again, and again, letting his hand stay firm on your stomach while your fingers gripped the sheets. "Taking it so well f’me. My perfect girl." Michael's hotel room was filled with the sound of skin against skin, the wetness between you obscene and constant, your voice breaking into gasps as he kept pounding into you.

You moaned louder and louder, he brought his hand down between your legs, fingers finding your clit with ease.

He started circling, slow and firm, and it was like your entire body shutdown. "C’mon, let go f’me," he murmured, lips grazing your temple. "My pretty lady." It only took a few more strokes of his fingers, perfectly timed with the deep thrusts of his hips, and your body tensed underneath him.

a loud moan broke from your throat as you came hard, everything pulsing, your walls fluttering around him, your thighs shaking uncontrollably.

He groaned at the feel of it, hips stuttering slightly, hands tightening around your waist to steady you through it. You barely had a moment to breathe before he pulled out and flipped you onto your stomach.

still trembling from your orgasm, you blinked up at him over your shoulder, dazed. He was already stroking himself at the sight of you like this. Face down, ass up, skin flushed and glistening. He leaned over and kissed the base of your spine, both hands caressing your ass as he lined himself back up. "Y-you can give me one more for Daddy, yeah?"

You were already nodding, dazed and needy. His large palms smoothed over the curve of your ass before he gave a sharp, affectionate squeeze.

You whimpered into the pillow when he slipped back inside, deeper now somehow, your body so sensitive. He bent forward over your back, mouth brushing your shoulder. "You’re so good to me..mmh.." he praised, hips rolling into you harder.

"I miss you mama,.. i dont deserve you." Your fingers clawed at the pillows as your body rocked with his rhythm, a fresh wave of pleasure building fast, hotter, messier.

He slid a hand around your waist, fingertips finding your clit again, rubbing soft circles that made your legs tremble. "mmhhm!!—mikey!" you whimpered, body arching as his hand kept moving so deliciously. "Close, sweetheart?" murmured in your ear, his voice hoarse, strained. "shit, m-me too…" you nodded frantically, barely able to form words. "Y's-so big.. i missed you daddy—M’so close!"

"I’m gonna make you a mommy," he whispered, voice gravelly in your ear. "Fill you up just right—watch you carry my baby, yeah?" Your whole body jolted at his words, the sound of them shooting straight to your core.

You nodded uncontrollably, thighs clenching, the pleasure unbearable now, building fast and out of control. "Daddy—m’gonna—ahh!" you moaned, voice breaking into a high-pitched moan as the wave finally hit you.

Your body shook violently, hips jerking, and then it happened, your climax crashing over you so hard, you couldn’t stop the gush that followed, soaking everything beneath you. "yesss atta girl, so good mama," he hissed, watching it happen under him.

The sight alone was enough. His thrusts faltered and his grip on your waist tightened almost bruisingly. "s-shitttt, I’m gonna cum—shit—" With a final, deep groan and whimper, he buried himself to the hilt and came inside you, cock pulsing as he spilled every last drop into your still twitching cunt.

He flipped you over, and shoved his mouth onto yours, kissing you hungrily, his hand cupping your jaw. You both lay there for a long moment, chests rising and falling in sync, the quiet only broken by your mingled breaths.

His forehead rested against yours, eyes half lidded and soft as he murmured, "I missed you so damn much baby..divorce sucks, I’ll buy you the pill in the morning, okay?" you smiled sleepily, brushing your fingers gently over his cheek. "I missed you more angel, its okay." you whispered, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to his lips.

A few minutes passed, and then Michael shifted, letting out a long exhale before resting his head against your bare chest, his arms lazily wrapping around your waist like he never wanted to let go. You threaded your fingers through his hair without thinking, letting your nails lightly scrape over his scalp in slow, soothing motions. He let out a quiet hum, almost like a purr, before speaking—voice lower than before, like a secret he hadn’t meant to say aloud. "Would you like to get on tour with me again, love? i miss you so bad."

© KAIOMII. ‎‎‎ ❤︎ all rights reserved. all works are a work of fiction. do not copy.

the grand ballroom is absolutely radiant, dripping in crystal chandeliers, golden drapes, and the quiet, polite murmur of high society. it is a massive charity gala, the kind of event where everyone who is anyone has gathered to look elegant, sip vintage champagne, and nod gracefully at speeches about making the world a better place. soft, classical violin music floats through the air, perfectly pleasant but entirely devoid of any real energy.

every round table is draped in immaculate white linen, adorned with towering floral centerpieces of white roses and sterling silver cutlery that catches the light. hundreds of guests in tailored tuxedos and sweeping silk gowns are making polite, rehearsed conversation, their laughter sounding just a bit too forced.

among the sea of faces, sitting at the exact same table, are michael and you. up until tonight, you have only ever been casual acquaintances—people who move in similar circles, offering a polite smile or a brief nod whenever you happen to cross paths at events just like this one. you are surrounded by wealthy patrons, industry executives, and socialites who are currently locked in deep, incredibly serious conversations about art auctions and wine vintages.

as the night drags on, the initial glamour of the ballroom begins to fade, replaced by a heavy, suffocating wave of pure boredom. the classical violin music, which had seemed sophisticated an hour ago, has melted into a monotonous, never-ending loop of soft strings that feels less like entertainment and more like elevator music. the air in the room grows warm and stifling, thick with the expensive perfumes and colognes of hundreds of guests who are all trying far too hard to look captivated.

at your table, the situation is dire. the conversation among the other guests has devolved into a painfully dull exchange of superficial pleasantries. a wealthy real estate mogul to the left is spending a solid twenty minutes explaining, in excruciating detail, the exact tax benefits of his latest contemporary art purchase. across the white linen tablecloth, two socialites are nodding along with glazed-over eyes, occasionally letting out a synchronized, fragile laugh that doesn't reach their eyes at all. every topic brought up feels entirely rehearsed, a predictable cycle of golf handicaps, summer homes, and the weather in the south of france.

you find yourself staring intently at your dessert plate, tracking the slow, agonizing melt of a chocolate garnish into a puddle of cream. you pick up your silver spoon, turning it over in your fingers just to watch the distorted reflection of the chandelier jump across the metal, anything to keep your mind occupied. your feet are starting to ache in your heels, and the smile you have been forcing for the sake of politeness is making your jaw feel completely stiff. you sneak a glance around the room, noticing how the grand speeches from the podium have stretched on for far too long, filled with buzzwords and polite applause that feels entirely robotic.

right beside you, michael is enduring the exact same torture. he is sitting remarkably still, his hands resting lightly in his lap, but the subtle signs of his restlessness are all there. he has spent the last ten minutes meticulously arranging and rearranging his heavy cotton napkin, folding it into a perfect square, then an elongated rectangle, and then smoothing it out again with the palm of his hand. whenever the man next to him pauses for breath, michael offers a soft, incredibly polite "oh, that's wonderful," or a gentle nod of his head, but his eyes are completely disconnected from the conversation. they wander toward the high ceilings, then down to the tiny bubbles popping at the top of his untouched glass of ginger ale, and finally toward the exit signs burning a faint red in the distance.

the entire atmosphere feels like a beautiful, golden cage where everyone is trapped in a competition of who can act the most sophisticated, and the sheer weight of the emptiness in the room is becoming almost impossible to ignore.

the moments stretch out like chewing gum until, thankfully, a shift happens. the man who had been lecturing the table about real estate finally stands up, smoothing his tuxedo jacket, and excuses himself to go network by the bar. like dominoes falling, the rest of the guests at your table follow suit, eager to mingle with a passing film director or stretch their legs, leaving the table completely deserted.

well, almost deserted.

with the sudden quiet settling over your corner of the room, you let your guard down a little, shifting your gaze over to the person sitting just a couple of seats away. you watch michael as he takes a slow sip of his drink, his shoulders dropping a fraction of an inch now that the pressure of the crowd has dissipated.

sensing your eyes on him, michael turns his head. his dark, expressive eyes meet yours, breaking through the fog of boredom that has filled the last two hours. instead of looking annoyed or closed off, a tiny, genuine smile tugs at the corner of his lips—a stark contrast to the plastic grins you've been surrounded by all night.

"hello," he says softly, his voice a quiet, gentle murmur that barely carries over the drone of the violin music.

you can’t help the heavy, dramatic sigh that escapes your lips, your shoulders slumping as you completely abandon your polite posture. you lean a bit closer toward him, dropping your voice to a conspiratorial whisper.

"honestly, this gala sucks."

for a split second, michael’s eyes widen slightly, a look of genuine surprise crossing his face. it is clear he isn't used to people being so blunt, especially not in a room as stuffy and proper as this one. but the shock vanishes as quickly as it came, replaced by a soft, breathy laugh that he tries to muffle behind his hand, his shoulders shaking slightly.

"oh, wow," he murmurs, his cheeks flushing a faint shade of pink. he glances around quickly, as if checking to see if the high-society police heard you, before looking back at you with a spark of amusement in his eyes. "you... you really think so?"

"don't tell me you're actually enjoying the lecture on tax benefits," you say, leaning back in your chair and crossing your arms with a confident, effortless smirk. you don't feel the need to filter yourself anymore, completely at ease with your own honesty. "because if you are, we might have a problem."

michael chuckles again, the shyness practically radiating off him as he nervously twirls the stem of his glass. he shifts slightly in his seat, adjusting his jacket, his polite manners deeply ingrained in him even when he's trying to relax. "well, no, not exactly. it’s just... you’re very brave for saying it out loud. i was just thinking it."

"thinking it doesn't save you from dying of boredom," you reply smoothly, your voice firm and full of easy confidence. you look directly at him, completely unbothered by his massive star status, treating him just like anyone else. "someone had to say it. we've been trapped here for hours."

"that's true," michael says softly, nodding his head respectfully. he listens to you intently, giving you his full attention, his voice remaining gentle and polite as he speaks. "it can be a bit overwhelming. everyone is so... serious tonight. i always worry about seeming rude if i don't look interested, you know?"

"life is too short to look interested in real estate portfolios, michael," you tease, a playful grin on your face.

your bold, direct energy seems to act like a shield for him, pushing away the suffocating atmosphere of the ballroom. even though he is still a bit quiet and reserved, tilting his head with that classic, polite shyness, he finds himself completely charmed by how fearless and open you are.

the conversation flows easily between them, the empty chairs around your table creating a little private island in the middle of the crowded ballroom. michael rests his elbow on the white tablecloth, his chin propped gently on his hand as he watches you, completely fascinated by how casual and unrestricted you are.

"so," you say, picking up your fork and gesturing toward the fancy, untouched appetizer left by one of your vanished table neighbors. "what do you think this actually is? foam? essence of air? because it definitely isn't food."

michael lets out another soft, breathy giggle, his dark eyes crinkling at the corners. "i think it's supposed to be truffle emulsion. but... i haven't dared to touch it either, to be honest."

"smart move," you say with a confident nod, leaning forward and lowering your voice playfully. "i'm convinced they just put fancy words on the menu so no one notices they're serving us tiny portions of absolutely nothing. it's a psychological experiment."

"you really have a theory for everything, don't you?" michael asks, tilting his head with a shy, admired smile. he is still sitting perfectly straight, his manners impeccable, but the tension has completely left his shoulders. "i usually just nod and pretend i know what it is. it's much safer."

"safe is boring, michael. look around," you sweep your hand dramatically toward the rest of the room, where people are still talking in stiff, rehearsed circles. "everyone here is playing it safe, and they look like they're attending a funeral in formal wear. you've got to break the rules a little."

michael ducks his head, a soft blush creeping up his neck at your directness. he nervously adjusts the cuff of his jacket, his voice coming out quiet but filled with genuine curiosity. "and... how do you do that? without making everyone upset?"

"by not caring so much about what they think," you answer easily, looking directly into his eyes with absolute certainty. "trust me, if you yawn out loud right now, the world won't end. try it."

"oh, no, i couldn't," he gasps softly, though a huge, playful grin spreads across his face. he covers his mouth at the very thought of it, horrified but completely amused by your fearlessness. "that would be terrible. my mother taught me better than that."

"fine, don't yawn. but at least admit that the violinist has been playing the exact same song on a loop for forty-five minutes."

michael pauses, pretending to listen intently to the faint strings in the background, before looking back at you with a conspiratorial spark in his eyes. "okay... you might be right about that one. i think i heard this exact piece at three different events this month."

"see? you're catching on," you smirk, entirely comfortable in your own skin, while michael just sits there, completely charmed and quietly amazed by how a simple acquaintance could make him feel so safe and entertained in the most boring room on earth.

as the suffocating boredom of the grand ballroom settles back over the empty table, you let out a small, defeated sigh that ruffles the loose strands of your hair. your eyes drift over the untouched, overly complex desserts before you finally focus on the crystal wine glass resting on the white linen. needing something—anything—to take the sharp edge off the incredibly stiff atmosphere, you reach out and wrap your fingers around the delicate stem. you pour yourself a generous, heavy serving of the deep, velvety red vintage, watching the dark liquid swirl and catch the bright reflection of the massive chandeliers above.

you look right over at michael with a playful, dangerous twinkle in your dark eyes, raising your glass just a fraction of an inch in a silent, rebellious toast before leaning back and taking a long, slow sip.

michael watches you, his large eyes widening just a bit, completely fascinated by your easygoing, unbothered nature. he lets out another soft, breathy giggle that he tries to hide behind his hand, his cheeks turning a lovely shade of pink. he looks down at his own untouched glass, hesitating for a split second as his fingers hover over the crystal. usually, he is so unbelievably careful, so deeply mindful of his public image and his strict, impeccable manners. he doesn't just let his guard down in a room full of industry executives and wealthy patrons. but looking at your confident, teasing smile, the rigid rules of the ballroom suddenly feel a million miles away. with a shy, slightly nervous smile that shows a hint of his teeth, he reaches out and takes a delicate, incredibly polite sip of his wine, matching your energy with a quiet thrill.

but as the minutes tick by and the conversation keeps flowing easily between you, that initial hesitation completely melts away into the warm air. you find yourself leaning closer to him, your whispers becoming more frequent and your laughter sounding richer, completely breaking through the monotonous drone of the violin music. without either of you even realizing it, the level of the dark red wine in your glasses keeps dropping faster and faster.

every single time a bottle runs low, you casually and confidently signal a passing waiter for another one, completely unbothered by the high-society eyes that might be watching your corner of the room. and michael, fully caught up in your magnetic, fearless energy, doesn't even think to stop you. for every bold, hilarious theory you share about the pretentious guests standing nearby, he counters with a soft, surprisingly witty observation of his own, his voice dropping into a low, smooth purr that is meant only for you. he punctuates every little joke with another sip, his grip on the stem of his glass becoming much more relaxed.

what started as a careful, slight taste of wine quickly turns into a steady, intoxicating rhythm. the empty chairs around your table feel less like a deserted island and more like a private, secret sanctuary where the outside world just doesn't apply anymore. the warmth of the alcohol begins to flush michael's cheeks a deeper, beautiful crimson, and his beautiful dark eyes take on a heavy, glassy brightness as he completely loses himself in your presence. before long, you are both staring at the empty bottles left sitting on the immaculate white tablecloth, the heavy, suffocating weight of the charity gala completely forgotten as the heat of the wine and the genuine, thrilling comfort of each other's company takes over your senses completely.

the warmth of the wine is definitely starting to buzz in the back of your head now, casting a soft, blurry edge over the bright lights of the grand ballroom, but it isn't quite enough to make you forget where you are. your fingers twitch against the empty glass, a familiar craving hitting you. you really want a cigarette. you glance around the stuffy room, your eyes tracing the golden drapes and the strict, proper faces of the guests, and you know there is absolutely no way you can light up in here without causing a massive scene.

a wicked, playful idea pops into your head. you turn your body fully toward michael, leaning in so close that the scent of your perfume completely fills his space.

"i need a smoke," you whisper, your voice dropping into a low, conspiratorial murmur that cuts right through the distant violin music. you offer him a lazy, confident smile, your eyes locking onto his. "but i obviously can't do it here. want to come with me to the bathrooms?"

under normal circumstances, michael would have politely declined right away. his deeply ingrained sense of propriety, his terror of being caught doing something scandalous, and his strict manners would have made him shake his head, offer a gentle apology, and stay firmly in his seat.

but tonight is completely different. the alcohol is humming softly in his veins too, loosening his rigid posture and making his heavy eyelids drop just a fraction. more than that, he is completely intoxicated by you. you are the most fascinating, fearless person he has met in a very long time, and the thought of you walking away and leaving him alone in this boring room is suddenly unbearable.

he blinks at you, his large, dark eyes looking slightly glazed but incredibly intense as a deep crimson flush spreads across his cheeks. he glances quickly toward the crowded floor, then back to your lips, a sudden wave of boyish excitement overtaking his usual shyness.

"the... the bathrooms?" he repeats in a breathy, hesitant whisper, a nervous but thrilled giggle bubbling up in his throat. he swallows hard, his heart hammering against his ribs as he completely throws caution to the wind. "okay. yes. let's go."

the heavy wooden door of the restroom clicks shut behind you, instantly cutting off the drone of the ballroom and trapping the two of you in a quiet, marble-lined sanctuary. the air in here feels cooler, smelling faintly of expensive soap and fresh towels.

without losing a beat, you lean your back against the grand vanity mirror, reaching into your small bag to pull out your pack of cigarettes and a sleek lighter. with an effortless, practiced flick of your wrist, the flame sparks to life, casting a brief, warm glow over your face before you take a long, slow drag. you exhale a thin, lazy ribbon of smoke that curls up toward the polished ceiling.

michael stands just a few feet away, leaning casually against the wall with his hands tucked into the pockets of his tailored trousers. the slight buzz of the wine has completely softened the usual tension in his shoulders. under the soft, warm lighting of the restroom, his dark eyes look incredibly heavy and glassy, reflecting a spark of pure, mischievous amusement.

"you're terrible," he murmurs with a soft, breathy giggle, his voice dropping into that low, gentle register. he shakes his head, watching the smoke drift between you, completely fascinated by how little you care about the strict rules outside. "if someone walks in, we are going to be in so much trouble."

"let them walk in," you say smoothly, a lazy, confident smirk playing on your lips as you take another drag. you point the glowing tip of the cigarette toward him playfully. "besides, who is going to lecture michael jackson about smoking in the bathroom? you're my ultimate shield tonight."

michael lets out a rich, genuine laugh that bounces softly off the marble walls, his entire body relaxing as he ducks his head. the alcohol is humming beautifully in his veins now, completely washing away his typical paralyzing shyness. he steps a little closer to you, his movements loose and fluid, entirely comfortable in your space now.

the conversation starts to flow even faster, completely unrestricted by the stuffy etiquette of the gala. you find yourselves jumping from topic to topic, mocking the pretentious art lecture from earlier, whispering about the ridiculous outfits in the ballroom, and sharing stories that you'd normally keep guarded. every little joke is punctuated by another soft exhale of smoke from you and a breathless, infectious chuckle from him.

the more you talk, the more the space between you seems to shrink. michael tilts his head, his gaze locked entirely on your face, a beautiful, warm crimson flush burning high on his cheekbones. he isn't sitting up straight or adjusting his cuffs anymore; he is completely unbuttoned, leaning into your fearless energy, feeling an incredible, intoxicating sense of freedom that he haven't felt in a very long time.

you tilt your head back against the massive vanity mirror, a slow, incredibly confident smile spreading across your lips as you take another drag of your cigarette. the alcohol is humming loudly in your head now, erasing every single trace of hesitation and replacing it with a bold, effortless warmth. you lower the cigarette, your dark eyes locking onto his with absolute intensity, refusing to look away.

"i wonder what you've got hiding behind that little look of yours," you say softly, your voice dropping into a teasing, slow murmur that hangs heavily in the quiet room.

the words are pure confidence, spoken with the easy fearlessness of someone who knows exactly how much power they hold in this moment.

michael freezes for a split second, his breath catching in his throat as your words hit him. but instead of retreating into his usual bashful shyness, the alcohol and your magnetic presence pull him even deeper under your spell. he leans his back more firmly against the wall, his head tilting slightly as his eyes fixate on yours.

he looks at you even longer, his dark, expressive eyes growing incredibly heavy and intensely focused. he is completely intoxicated by you now—not just from the wine, but from the raw, unfiltered way you look at him, treating him like a real person instead of a global superstar. the soft, warm light of the bathroom reflects in his glassy gaze, which drifts down to your lips for a lingering second before snapping back to your eyes. a breathless, slightly dazed smile tugs at the corner of his lips, his cheeks flushing a deeper, beautiful crimson as he lets himself get utterly lost in your fearless gaze.

he says absolutely nothing. the quiet in the room grows incredibly thick, heavy with the unsaid words and the intense warmth of the wine buzzing through your veins. you let out a soft, slow breath, a confident smile playing on your lips as you take a step forward, closing the small distance between your bodies.

you lift the cigarette to your mouth one last time, taking a deep, slow drag. your dark eyes never leave his, locking him into your gaze as the ember glows a bright, hot orange between your fingers. michael is completely paralyzed under your stare, his breath hitching in his chest. his heavy, dazed eyes drift downward, completely hypnotized as he watches the soft curve of your lips wrap around the filter.

you drop the cigarette into the marble sink, letting out a thin, lazy trail of smoke that disappears into the space between your faces. you smile at him, a bold, dangerous expression full of effortless confidence. michael’s gaze is completely stuck on your mouth now, his lips parting slightly as the heat in the room spikes. seeing his reaction, your own eyes drop to his lips, tracking the soft, full shape of them, the anticipation building until it is almost suffocating.

then, without warning, you completely throw caution to the wind.

you step fully into his space and smash your lips firmly against his.

michael lets out a sharp, muffled gasp against your mouth, his hands flying out of his pockets in pure shock. but the hesitation lasts for less than a second. the alcohol, the privacy of the room, and the intense craving he has been holding back all night crash over him at once. his arms instantly wrap around your waist, pulling you tightly against his chest as he loses his footing slightly.

you begin to kiss each other in a completely chaotic, messy way—your teeth clashing slightly as your lips slide together with an urgent, clumsy passion fueled entirely by the wine. it isn't polite, it isn't rehearsed, and it completely shatters the rigid elegance of the gala outside. his hands grip the fabric of your dress, his touch desperate and uncoordinated, while your fingers tangle messily into his curls, both of you completely losing control in the middle of the quiet, marble restroom.

mid-kiss, while your lips are still locked together in that chaotic, messy rhythm, you completely take control of the movement. keeping your mouth smashed firmly against his, you use the momentum of your body to shift his weight, guiding his stumbling steps backward away from the marble vanity. your fingers grip the fabric of his tailored tuxedo jacket, pulling him along with an urgent, unstoppable energy fueled by the heavy buzz of the wine.

michael is completely defenseless against your sudden force, his arms remaining tightly wrapped around your waist as he lets you push him deeper into the privacy of the restroom. his back hits the heavy wooden frame of one of the luxury stalls, forcing the door to swing wide open with a sharp click.

without breaking the intense, deep kiss for even a single second, you step fully inside the narrow space with him, your high heels clicking sharply against the tile. you give him one final, firm push against his chest, causing his knees to buckle slightly under the weight of the alcohol. with a soft, breathy gasp that gets completely swallowed by your mouth, michael falls backward, landing heavily onto the closed lid of the toilet seat.

the sudden drop makes him sit down completely, his hands instantly gripping your hips for stability as the shock of the movement ripples through him. but instead of backing away, you follow him right down. you step deep between his spread knees, leaning your upper body forward so that you are looming directly over him, pinning him down beneath your confidence.

the change in position only makes the fire burn hotter. you instantly smash your lips back onto his with an even greater, unhinged passion. sitting beneath you, michael lets out a low, deep moan into your mouth, his head tilting back against the wall of the stall as he completely surrenders to the chaos. his fingers dig tightly into the fabric of your dress, his touch becoming desperate and completely uncoordinated as the heat of the wine takes over his senses.

your lips slide together with a wild, wet urgency, your teeth clashing once more as you deepen the kiss, tasting the rich vintage of the red wine on each other's tongues. your fingers tangle messily into his damp black curls, pulling his head closer, while he arches his back slightly to press his chest firmly against yours, completely losing himself in the intoxicating, breathless rhythm of the hidden stall.

he looks up at you through heavy, hooded eyes, his breath hitching as he grips your waist a little tighter. "sit on me," he murmurs, his voice dropping into a low, raspy whisper that is completely stripped of his usual hesitation.

you don't hesitate for a single second. listening to him instantly, you shift your weight and slide onto his lap, straddling his thighs as the heavy fabric of your dress bunches up around you. the sudden, close contact makes him let out a soft gasp against your neck, his hands moving up to lock firmly onto your hips.

the alcohol is humming wildly through both of your systems now, slowing everything down into a thick, hazy dream. completely intoxicated and weighed down by the wine, you lean your forehead against his and begin to move, grounding yourself against him. because you are both so incredibly drunk, the movement is entirely unhurried—just a series of very light, agonizingly slow back-and-forth shifts that feel heavy and deliberate in the quiet of the stall.

michael's head tilts back against the wall, a dazed, breathless sigh escaping his parted lips as he follows your slow, lethargic rhythm. his eyes are half-closed, completely unfocused but locked onto you, his grip tightening on your hips with every slow shift of your weight. the chaotic energy from before completely melts into this thick, warm slowness, the two of you moving together in a lazy, quiet haze while the rest of the world remains completely forgotten outside the door.

letting out a soft, heavy moan against his neck, you lean all your weight into him, the heat of your skin melting against his. the alcohol is spinning fast in your head now, breaking down every last filter until nothing is left but raw honesty. you bury your face in the crook of his shoulder, your voice coming out as a breathless, ragged whisper.

"oh my god, i’m so drunk... but i want you so bad."

michael's entire body tenses beneath you at the words, his breath hitching sharply in his chest. through the heavy, warm fog of the wine, his dark eyes blink open, looking up at you with an expression that is completely exposed, desperate, and intensely focused. his fingers dig a little deeper into the skin of your hips, his knuckles turning white as he tries to ground himself in the middle of the haze.

"is... is that true?" he asks, his voice dropping into a low, raspy murmur that trembles slightly, thick with the weight of the alcohol and the sheer shock of hearing you say it out loud. "do you really mean that?"

"yes," you breathe out instantly, looking directly down into his glassy, heavy gaze with absolute certainty, nodding your head against his. "yes, michael."

a dazed, incredibly beautiful smile tugs at the corner of his lips, his cheeks flushing a deep, burning crimson as your confession completely undoes him. he lets out a shaky, breathless sigh, his head tilting back against the hard wall of the stall once more as he surrenders entirely to the feeling of you on his lap.

"then please..." he whispers, his voice dropping into a dark, velvety command that sends a shiver straight down your spine. his hands guide your hips, pressing you even closer against his thighs. "don't stop. keep moving just like that... please."

listening to the low, desperate pull of his voice, you sink right back into that slow, heavy rhythm. because the wine has made both of your bodies feel so wonderfully weighed down, every single movement is thick, deliberate, and agonizingly slow. you shift your weight over him, making very light, lazy back-and-forth passes that feel almost torturous in their slowness.

michael lets out a low, deep groan from the back of his throat, his eyes closing tightly as his grip on your hips tightens to keep you locked against him. his chest rises and falls in sharp, ragged breaths against yours, his tailored jacket wrinkling beneath your fingers as you clutch his shoulders for balance. every time you move, a soft, involuntary whimper escapes your lips, fueling the fire between you. he moves his hips slightly to match your lethargic, intoxicating pace, completely lost in the private, unhurried chaos of the hidden stall while the rest of the world remains a million miles away.

his breath hitches against your ear, hot and ragged, as his hands tremble slightly against your waist. the air inside the narrow stall has grown incredibly thick, heavy with the sharp scent of your cigarette smoke, the expensive marble cleaner, and the sweet, intoxicating warmth of the dark vintage wine radiating off your skin. everything feels beautifully distorted, slowed down to a heavy, rhythmic heartbeat that pulses loudly in the quiet space.

"i want to feel you," he whispers, his voice dropping into a low, raspy purr that sounds completely raw and unfiltered. "i need to feel you so bad."

with his eyes half-closed and glazed over from the alcohol, he slides his hands down from your hips. his fingers work with a clumsy, desperate urgency against his own clothes, fumbling slightly before he manages to unbutton his tailored trousers just enough, loosening the fabric to create just enough space.

he looks up at you through his thick, dark eyelashes, his cheeks flushed a beautiful, burning crimson as he leans his head back against the wall. his voice is barely a breath now, thick with anticipation. "lift your dress... please. just... pull your panties to the side."

the sheer boldness of his words under the bright bathroom lights makes your head spin even faster. completely under his spell and entirely drunk on his presence, you reach down with numb, heavy fingers, gathering the luxurious fabric of your dress and bunching it up around your waist. michael's gaze tracks your movements with a heavy, dazed fascination, his chest rising and falls in sharp, erratic gasps as you slide your hand beneath the fabric to shift your underwear out of the way.

the atmospheric heat in the tiny cubicle spikes instantly, becoming utterly suffocating in the best way possible. skin meets skin, and the sudden, electric warmth of the contact makes both of you gasp out loud at the exact same time. michael's fingers instantly lock back onto your hips, his knuckles turning stark white as he guides you down, completely losing himself in the intoxicating, messy friction of the moment while the gala outside ceases to exist.

the moment you sink down and completely connect with him, a long, heavy shiver ripples through michael’s entire body. he lets out a deep, shuddering gasp that catches in his throat, his fingers digging desperately into the skin of your hips to hold you perfectly still for a second as the sheer intensity of the feeling washes over him.

because the wine has completely taken over your senses, weighing down your limbs and turning the air into a thick, hazy fog, there is absolutely no rush. you begin to move, and it is a rhythm born entirely of the alcohol—agonizingly, beautifully slow. each deliberate rise and slow sink takes what feels like an eternity, forcing both of you to feel every single millimeter of friction and every spark of intense, raw warmth radiating between your bodies.

the sounds inside the quiet, locked stall become incredibly vivid, echoing softly against the cold marble walls. every touch is so unhurried, so deeply physical, that the quiet, slick, wet sound of skin sliding against skin fills the narrow space between you, unfiltered and real.

michael’s head tilts all the way back against the wall, his dark curls spilling against the surface as his eyes roll shut. when he releases a moan, it isn't sharp or rushed; it is a long, drawn-out, velvety sound that vibrates deep in his chest, matching the lethargic pace of your body. your own groans escape your lips in the exact same way—heavy, breathless, and stretched out, hanging in the warm, humid air before disappearing.

he moves his hips up to meet you with a slow, heavy tilt, his hands guiding your weight with a relaxed but desperate grip. every single slow friction is amplified by the thick quiet of the restroom, turning the lazy, drunken pace into a beautiful, agonizing torture where every sensation is felt with absolute, intoxicating clarity.

the heavy, constant risk of the bathroom door swinging open at any given second hangs over the stall like a physical weight, turning the danger into something completely addictive. anyone could walk in—a security guard, a high-profile guest, a nosy executive looking for michael—and the mere thought of being caught in such a scandalous, raw position shatters whatever restraint you both have left.

for you, the sheer thrill of it races through your veins like fire, mixing beautifully with the heavy buzz of the wine. you lean down closer to his face, your chest pressing firmly against his as you catch your breath.

"michael," you groan out, your voice a heavy, breathless whisper that vibrates right against his ear. "the fact that anyone could walk in right now... it's making me lose my mind. it's making me so crazy."

hearing your unfiltered confession, a sudden, sharp jolt of pure excitement ripples straight through him. michael's eyes snap open, glazed over with a heavy, dark intensity that looks almost dangerous under the soft lights. his breath hitches in his throat, and a low, ragged gasp escapes his parted lips. he has spent his entire life hiding, terrified of the public eye and the endless scrutiny, but right now, under your fearless influence and the intoxicating warmth of the alcohol, the danger doesn't scare him—it completely consumes him.

"shh... please," he whispers back, a frantic, thrilling rush in his low voice as he wraps his arms even tighter around your waist, pulling you down flat against him. a breathless, boyish laugh bubbles up in his throat, muffled against your shoulder. "don't... don't say that. you're going to make me forget where we are entirely."

the added rush of adrenaline completely changes the energy in the cramped space. even though your movements remain heavily weighed down and agonizingly slow from the alcohol, the underlying tension spikes into something fiercely electric. your hands grip his shoulders with a new, desperate tightness, your fingers digging into the fabric of his jacket as you continue that lazy, torturous friction. michael tilts his head back again, his teeth biting into his bottom lip to stifle a loud, deep moan that threatens to echo through the entire restroom, his hips shifting upward with a slow, desperate hunger that completely defies the quiet, hidden nature of the stall.

the tension inside the cramped, dimly lit stall stretches to an absolute breaking point, the air thick, humid, and completely charged with the scent of your perfume, the lingering cigarette smoke, and the deep, heavy fog of the wine. every slow, slick friction has brought you both right to the ragged edge of control, the alcohol magnifying every single nerve ending until it feels like too much to bear.

you arch your back, your fingers clawing into the shoulders of his tailored jacket as a wave of intense heat spreads through your core. you lean right into his ear, your lips brushing against his flushed skin as you breathe out the words with absolute, unfiltered desperation.

"finish inside me, michael... i want to feel all of you. do it inside me."

the command hits him like an electric shock. michael lets out a loud, strangled gasp that echoes sharply off the cold marble walls of the stall, his entire body jerking beneath you. his eyes snap open, completely dark, wide, and glazed over with a look of pure, unadulterated shock and white-hot arousal. the sheer intimacy and danger of your request completely shatters whatever tiny shred of restraint he had left.

"oh yeah ? you... you want me to?" he gasps out, his voice cracking, dripping with a raw, breathless desperation as his hands tighten on your hips with a fiercely possessive grip. "is that true? you really want it baby?"

"yes, michael, yes!" you whimpering out, nodding your head frantically against his shoulder, your body trembling with the buildup.

hearing your confirmation sends him completely over the edge. the heavy, slow daze of the alcohol suddenly snaps into a frantic, driving urgency. for the first time all night, the lazy rhythm completely vanishes. michael arches his hips upward with a sudden, powerful surge, and both of you instantly accelerate, abandoning all caution.

the movements become fast, deep, and beautifully chaotic. the quiet stall is filled with the frantic, rhythmic friction of skin against skin—a wet, heavy, and intense sound that matches the sudden madness of the moment. you are gripping his damp curls, pulling his head close as you ride the sudden wave of his speed, your breath catching in your throat with every deep, relentless push.

michael is completely lost to the pleasure now, his head thrashed back against the hard wall of the stall, his jaw clenched tight as a series of low, deep, guttural moans tear from his throat. he is driving up into you with everything he has left, his hands anchoring your waist down, guiding your weight so that there is absolutely no space left between you.

"i'm close... i'm right there," he pants out, his breath hot and ragged against your neck, his chest heaving violently against yours as his heart hammers at a terrifying pace.

the tight, unbearable coil inside you snaps at the exact same moment. a sharp, loud cry escapes your lips as your core completely convulses around him, a wave of intense, blinding pleasure rippling through your entire body. feeling the sudden, fierce tightness of your climax, michael lets out a long, loud, trembling groan that vibrates deep in his chest. his eyes roll back as his entire body goes completely rigid beneath you. he drives deep one last time, holding you tightly, possessively against his hips as he completely releases inside you, his muscles spasming in long, powerful waves.

both of you collapse against each other in the quiet of the stall, your heavy, synchronized gasps filling the air as the intense, chaotic rush slowly gives way to the warm, dizzying fog of the wine once again.

the sudden, intense rush of the climax slowly ripples away, leaving the air inside the stall heavy, warm, and entirely still. your forehead slumps forward, resting against his damp shoulder as both of your chests heave in deep, synchronized gasps, trying to catch your breath through the dizzying fog of the wine.

after a long moment of quiet, you slowly lift your head. your vision is a little blurry, the room spinning gently from the alcohol, but your eyes lock onto his.

michael is looking right back at you, his face still incredibly flushed, a deep crimson staining his cheeks. his eyes are wide, glassy, and completely dazed, his dark curls sticking messily to his forehead. for a second, the sheer absurdity and boldness of what you just did—shattering the elegance of a massive gala to hide inside a public restroom stall—hangs in the air between you.

then, a soft, breathless bubble of laughter escapes your lips.

hearing you, michael's lips instantly part, and he lets out a quiet, pitchy giggle that echoes softly off the marble walls. you both start laughing together, a genuine, joyful sound that has absolutely nothing to do with mockery. it is the pure, unfiltered laughter of two people who are completely, utterly drunk, stripped of all their defenses, and feeling incredibly safe in each other's space. the residual tension completely melts away into the warm haze, leaving only a deep, comfortable happiness.

as you laugh, your body shifts slightly on his lap, causing a soft, warm friction between you. michael lets out a sudden, sharp gasp, his laughter cutting off into a breathless smile as his hands instantly tighten on your hips.

he is still fully inside you, the intimate connection keeping you completely anchored together on the closed toilet seat. the sudden reminder of your position makes your smile grow even wider, your eyes locking with his as he tilts his head back against the wall, a beautifully lazy, dazed grin spreading across his face while he lets out another soft, happy sigh.

still fully connected to you, michael lets out another soft, breathy chuckle, his fingers tracing lazy circles on your hips. he tilts his head to the side, looking toward the heavy wooden door of the stall with a dazed, squinted expression as if he’s trying to process the concept of time through the heavy fog of the wine.

"do you..." he murmurs, his voice dropping into a low, raspy whisper as his eyes drift back to yours, crinkling at the corners with amusement. "do you think they noticed we're gone?"

you can't help but burst into a fresh wave of giggles, the sheer absurdity of the question making your head spin even faster. "probably," you laugh out, leaning forward to press a playful, messy kiss against his flushed cheek. "michael, we've been gone for ages, and you're the guest of honor."

he lets out a dramatic, boyish groan, a wide grin spreading across his face as the reality of the situation hits his beautifully drunk brain. "oh god," he laughs softly, his shoulders shaking. "we are in so much trouble."

realizing you actually have to face the real world eventually, you both reluctantly begin the chaotic process of getting yourselves back together. with a soft, breathy gasp from both of you, you slowly slide off his lap, the sudden lack of physical contact making the cold air hit your skin instantly. your knees feel incredibly weak and unsteady from the alcohol, causing you to stumble slightly against the side of the cubicle. michael immediately reaches out, his hands grasping your waist to steady you even though he’s just as clumsy, sitting on the toilet seat and struggling to pull up and button his tailored trousers with numb, heavy fingers.

for the next few minutes, the small stall is filled with quiet, breathless laughter as you try to fix yourselves. you bunch your dress back down, smoothing out the ruined fabric as best as you can, while michael stands up, swaying slightly on his feet. he attempts to straighten his tuxedo jacket, but his fingers are too uncoordinated to properly fix his bowtie, leaving it slightly crooked and loose around his neck.

you step in front of him, your hands resting on his chest as you look him up and down. his usually immaculate afro-curls are completely wild and tangled from your fingers, his lips are slightly swollen and stained a deep rosy pink, and his eyes are still incredibly heavy, glassy, and full of a lazy, warm happiness. you look down at yourself and realize your makeup is definitely smudged, your hair is beautifully messy, and the scent of wine and smoke clings to both of you like a second skin.

"how do we look?" michael whispers, holding onto your shoulders for balance, a goofy, intoxicated smile on his lips.

"completely hopeless," you tease softly, giggling as you push the stall door open, both of you taking a pair of slow, uncoordinated steps toward the mirrors to see the beautiful, chaotic mess you've made of each other.

pushing open the heavy restroom doors, the loud, elegant music and the bright lights of the grand ballroom instantly crash over you like a wave. but instead of freezing or trying to play it cool, the heavy buzz of the wine makes the whole situation feel completely hilarious.

you walk back into the gala completely glued to each other. michael has his arm wrapped tightly around your waist, pulling your side flat against his chest, partly because he doesn't want to let you go and partly because both of your legs are still incredibly shaky from the alcohol. you are leaning heavily into him, your hand gripping his tuxedo jacket for balance as you stumble slightly over your own high heels.

as you navigate through the crowd of high-profile guests, you both keep your heads leaning close together, whispering and laughing quietly. you look up at his loose, crooked bowtie and his completely wild, tangled curls, letting out a soft giggle. "your hair looks like a mess," he tease, his voice thick with the warmth of the wine.

"well, you have my lipstick smudged all over your jaw," you whisper back with a giggle, gently poking his chest.

michael stops in his tracks for a split second, his beautifully drunk brain trying to process the words before he breaks into a soft, high-pitched chuckle. his cheeks turn an even deeper shade of crimson as he realizes he's walking around the grand ballroom with bright pink smudges all over his face.

"oh god, really?" he laughs quietly, his shoulders shaking beneath his suit as he quickly uses his free hand to wipe clumsily at his jaw, only making it a little more messy in the process. "we look absolutely ridiculous."

"we look like we just survived a storm," you whisper back, leaning your forehead against his shoulder for a brief second as another wave of laughter hits you.

the sheer contrast between the rigid, serious elegance of the gala and the beautiful, messy chaos of what you just did inside the stall makes it impossible to stop smiling. you keep walking through the room, completely ignoring the curious glances and the quiet whispers of the crowd, totally locked in your own private world, laughing at yourselves and holding onto each other as tightly as possible.

~1970~

the rhythmic tinkling of the doorbell rang through the house as y/n dropped the blocks in her hand, her head shooting up, alert like a puppy.

“mama, door!” she called out, hearing her mother dust off her hands in the kitchen, a few pans clattering before she wiped her hands on her apron, walking past y/n to open it.

all the houses along the street were small, only one story and painted the same, striking white colour.

y/n paid no mind to whoever was at the door, continuing her block sorting, pushing the star-shaped one into the star-shaped hole.

“i’m katherine, i noticed you moved in next to us, i thought i’d bring over some fresh cookies for you,”

“thank you so much, you didn’t have to,”

“it’s nothin’ big, don’t worry! is it just you here?”

“just me and my daughter. y/n darling, come say ‘hi’!”

at the sound of her name, y/n looked up, dropping the blocks and scampering to where her mother was at the door.

opposite her, a kindly-looking woman stood in front of her, holding a tin packed full of cookies.

“darling,” her mother crouched down beside her, “this is mrs jackson,”

y/n looked between her mother and katherine, offering a small wave.

“you know,” katherine knelt down, “i have a daughter around the same age, if little y/n was lookin’ for some friends in the neighbourhood?”

y/n’s mother looked to her, gasping softly.

“how’s that, sweetheart? you can make your first friend,”

the small girl just nodded, still too shy to say anything in front of katherine, who clapped her hands together happily.

”just send her over here whenever,” y/n’s mother smiled, “i’ll make some lemonade for them,”

that was how y/n ended up standing opposite janet, who was holding onto a doll in one hand, the other bunched into the side of her dress as she swayed from side to side on the spot.

“hi,” y/n was the first to speak, still half-shy as she held her own doll in one hand, “this is lily,” she held up the doll by the arm.

janet looked between her and the doll, before lifting hers too.

“daisy,”

and that was how the two girls started their friendship, y/n showing janet all the dolls clothes she had in a little box under the sofa.

“i think daisy would like a pink dress,” y/n fished out a little tattered dress, but janet took it like chanel, her eyes wide.

katherine came round later in the evening to find the two girls surrounded by little clothes, and shoes, and hats, and jackets, changing the outfit of their dolls every few seconds.

“they’ve been at it all afternoon,” y/n’s mother stood in the doorway beside katherine, a fond smile on both of their faces.

“just glad my janet finally has a friend of her own,” katherine said, watching as y/n helped janet wrap a tiny scarf round her doll’s neck.

“we best get goin’, we gotta take our sons for a show,” she said, her smile faltering for a second.

“a show?”

“well…see…my boys, they…they perform,”

“how so?”

“singin’…dancin’,” katherine said, her expression half-guarded, “whatever joe wants ‘em to do,”

y/n’s mother nodded, noting the look of weariness on the other woman’s face, and knowing not to pry.

she’d learn of the jackson 5 soon enough.

❀❀❀❀

~1971~

from that day on, y/n and janet had been best friends.

from visiting each other’s houses after school, to going to the park together with their mothers, the two girls were inseparable.

so naturally, y/n had met all the jackson brothers.

jackie was the oldest, then tito, and they talked to y/n the least out of all the brothers.

marlon would occasionally walk past and ruffle her hair, and randy would sometimes join in on playful teasing.

and michael, well, he didn’t talk as much either.

but all of them loved to tease y/n.

she was small, obviously being younger than them, and slightly smaller than janet too.

squirt.

that’s what they’d call her.

“watch it, squirt!” from marlon when he’d rush past, basketball in hand.

or a, “y’all playin’ dolls again, squirt?” in a mocking tone from jackie.

even michael used the nickname. “want anythin’ to eat, squirt?”

but when he used it, he made sure he didn’t hurt her feelings. he made sure y/n was actually comfortable with the nickname, and not to hurt her feelings.

the other boys teased her and janet relentlessly for being bossy and playing with dolls at their ‘big old age’.

but it was always michael who’d walk over later, holding the dress randy had snatched and hidden from her and janet, kneeling down to make sure she was okay.

“they weren’t too mean, were they, squirt?” he’d say, handing it back softly, helping push the doll’s arms back through the holes, as y/n would shake her head.

and even if she did, he’d make sure she was definitely not lying.

“they’re idiots, y’know that, squirt? pay ‘em no mind,”

and y/n would leave happy, knowing no matter where randy or marlon would hide her stuff, she’d always get it back from michael.

for a whole year, her life was perfect.

that was, until, katherine came to the door, a solemn expression on her face as she spoke to y/n’s mother.

the girl heard snippets of the conversation.

“encino…moving…the boys…the tour…music…”

moving?!

did that mean janet was going too?

that was how y/n ended up standing outside the house of the jacksons, one hand in her mother’s, and the other clinging hard to her doll, still dressed in the outfit janet had picked out.

she blinked hard, hot tears filling her eyes as she watched jackie and tito carry a heavy box into the back of their volkswagon van.

janet followed the boys out of the house, also blinking back tears as she clutched her own doll to her chest.

“katherine,” y/n’s mother said, as she walked to where they stood, watching.

janet stood beside her mother, swaying from side to side.

“i’m sorry about the girls,” katherine said, looking down where y/n and janet sniffled, mumbling things to each other.

“it was inevitable,” y/n’s mother said, watching as her daughter took off the miniature necklace from her doll, holding it out to janet.

“come on baby,” y/n’s mother knelt down, “janet needs to go with her brothers, alright?”

y/n just sniffled, gently handing the little necklace to the girl opposite her.

“it’s okay,” katherine said, “we won’t forget you, y/n,”

as much as it ached y/n’s mother to see her daughter upset, she knew visiting would be difficult too.

“bye y/n,” janet whispered, keeping her voice quiet as she sniffled.

any louder, and she would’ve cried more.

“bye janet,”

y/n watched with her mother as katherine led janet away gently, strapping her into the back of the car, not even registering the soft sound of footsteps coming towards them.

“hey squirt,”

y/n’s teary-eyed gaze was snapped from janet as michael tentatively knelt down, so he was eye level with her.

“wanted to give you this,” he held a book in his hands, the words ‘peter pan’ in cursive writing written across the front.

the girl’s attention was momentarily drawn to the book, slightly tattered round the edges, but still in good enough condition to read.

her hands were shaky as she took the book from him, holding it with both hands.

“it was my favourite book,” michael said, his voice gentle, “thought maybe you’d wanna read it,”

“oh michael…” y/n’s mother said, her voice full of gratitude as her daughter’s teary eyes flickered over the cover with slight curiosity.

michael was quiet for a second, watching the girl in front of him.

“catch you around, squirt,” he straightened, giving her hair one last ruffle as he headed towards the car.

marlon, tito, jermaine and jackie made sure to ruffle her hair as they walked past too, calling out a quick, “bye squirt!” as they did.

that was the last y/n saw of the jacksons.

she didn’t forget her old friend, but her life eventually went on without them, their memory kept alive by the doll she had, and the book michael had left her.

❀❀❀❀

~1986~

y/n had taken to modelling like a house on fire.

she had a commanding presence on the runway, a specific charm only she could muster for magazine shoots, and a face people would kill for.

but beneath all that?

she was almost still a child at heart.

it was early when she awoke to the sound of the postman walking past her house (she still lived with her mother), walking down the stairs with a mug in her hands and wrapped in her nightgown, to open the door.

a single cream, thick envelope lay at the bottom of the door, and in the front, her address scrawled.

she didn’t recognise the elegant, looped handwriting.

with a soft hum, y/n set her mug down on the table, mumbling a soft “morning” to her mother as she tore the envelope open.

a letter slid out from it, and on top?

a little, silver necklace.

the same one she had given janet when she’d left for encino.

surely not…

dear y/n, oh god it took so long to find you! but im so grateful i did, and im so sorry it took so long for me to do so. us jacksons are having a reunion in encino next week, and i’d be so grateful if you could come. I’ve missed you so much. lots of love, janet

for a few seconds, y/n was frozen still.

her old best friend, janet, had remembered her? and invited her for a reunion? how could she say?

the compound in encino was huge.

it had a fountain in the middle and a long brick path, the house separate away from the public with a large black gate that had to be opened for her by security.

y/n hadn’t exactly thought about what she’d say, looking down at the dress she’d chosen - a simple black one and some heels.

was it too little? too much?

it was too late to change now, of course.

with a deep swallow, she raised her fist to the thick wooden door, and knocked.

one…two…three…four…

the door opened before she could count to five in her head, and there she was. janet.

and god, she was beautiful.

“janet,” y/n finally spoke, her eyes wide as she stared at the best friend she had had long ago.

before either of them could say another word, they were wrapped in each other’s arms, mumblings of ‘i missed you’ and ‘you’re so gorgeous, girl’ between them.

the house wasn’t too full, with all the brothers (except jermaine), sisters and their parents in the large living room.

jackie and tito were having a full discussion on the sofa, joe sat in his armchair and smoking a cigar.

marlon, michael and randy were sat on the floor, and rebbie and la toya were in their own seats, talking softly.

they only noticed y/n at the doorway when katherine froze from the kitchen door, a tray in her hands.

“y/n,” she said, her voice full of disbelief.

she’d hardly expected y/n to actually turn up.

the whole room was silent for a second before it erupted into loud gasps and exclamations.

“squirt, that you?”

“no way that’s y/n!”

“you’re pulling my leg, jan!”

only michael watched from the floor, silent, but a small smile on his face.

of course she’d heard of his fame now.

he’d released off the wall and thriller, he was all famous now. y/n hardly expected him to remember her.

y/n and janet spent a whole hour on the sofa together, catching up on life; y/n’s modelling, how fancy janet’s life was now, all about y/n’s mother (who couldn’t make it due to work).

it wasn’t until after dinner that michael got y/n alone.

jackie and tito were arguing over a card game at the dining table, marlon and randy had disappeared outside with a basketball, and the girls were somewhere upstairs.

y/n stood by the sink with her sleeves rolled to her elbows, rinsing a few glasses despite katherine insisting she didn't have to.

"you really don't gotta do that," michael's soft voice came from the doorway.

the girl jumped, almost getting her sleeves wet as her head snapped back.

“didn’t mean to startle you,” michael said, his voice sheepish as she shook her head, mumbling a small “it’s fine”.

he leaned against the frame, hands tucked into the pockets of his trousers, smiling almost sheepishly.

"old habits," y/n said quietly, “my mama would've told me off if i left without helping,”

a silence settled over them.

it wasn’t uncomfortable but it felt almost…nostalgic.

it wasn’t broken til michael walked next to her, picking up a tea towel.

“wash,” he said, eyes on her hands where she’s frozen, looking to him almost confused.

“you’re helpin’?”

“course,”

there was silence for a few seconds.

“surprised you didn’t forget me,” michael said, his voice soft, almost vulnerable.

“forget you? kinda impossible now you’re a big hit- sorry,” y/n caught the expression he gave her, one eyebrow raised as she winced.

”well, marlon always took my dolls,”

“he did,”

“and randy hid their clothes,”

“he did,”

“but you always gave them back,”

“i did,” michael said, drying off another mug and accepting a plate from her.

there was another silence, but it was less awkward, this time.

janet watched, her eyes wide as she peeked round the doorframe. oh god.

she matched up the stairs where all the brothers were sitting, playing some board game between them as the sisters sat on the bed and talked.

“family meeting,” she said, her voice as bossy as it always was.

“what did i do?” marlon looked up from the game, his piece still in his hand.

“nothing,” janet waved a dismissive hand towards him.

“then why're we havin' a meeting?" jackie asked.

janet folded her arms, letting them all watch her, waiting a deliberate second too long so they’d all lean in closer, desperate to know.

"because michael's in love,”

the room went quiet.

"...what?" tito blinked.

"with who?" randy asked.

“and do they like him back?”

“of course not, it’s mikey-,”

“don’t be a jerk marlon,”

“shut up jackie,”

“why don’t you-?”

“all of you, shut up!” janet hissed, narrowing their eyes in annoyance, “focus on the task at hand,”

“so who is it?” randy asked again.

“y/n,”

there was a pause between them all as they exchanged looks, their eyes blown wide as the sisters gasped.

then the room erupted with cheers and gasps of “i knew it!” and “ain’t no way!”

katherine, who had wandered in carrying a basket of folded washing, looked around at all of them.

"..what are y'all yellin' about now?"

"michael likes y/n," janet announced proudly, a grin on her face.

katherine blinked, before she stepped into the room, still carrying the basket.

“so what are y’all waiting for?” she asked, “get them together,”

that was how janet officially started ‘operation g.t.t’ (get them together).

janet didn’t waste a second.

“okay,” she clapped her hands once, pacing in front of them like she was briefing a military operation, “we’ve got a emergency,”

“this is not an emergency,” jackie muttered, “this is michael bein’ shy again,”

“it’s an emergency,” janet repeated sharply, pointing at him, “because y/n is here now. in the house. breathing the same air. do you understand the potential?”

“so what’s the plan?” randy leaned forwards.

“we make them alone together,”

“that’s it?” tito frowned.

katherine set the basket down with a knowing smile, “just don’t make it obvious.”

“mama, it’s already obvious,” marlon said, rolling his eyes as tito gave him a slap on the leg.

janet was already halfway out the room before anyone could argue further.

“where you goin’?” jackie called after her, looking to where she walked down the hallway in confusion.

“to initiate the first phase,” she grinned, like that was the most obvious answer in the world.

y/n was downstairs in the kitchen, still drying with michael alongside her when she saw janet walk in.

“hey jan,”

“hey y/n, got a sec?”

“uh sure,” y/n said, giving michael an apologetic look as he set down another cup, stepping off with janet.

“you busy tomorrow?” janet asked, trying to hide the excitement in her eyes as y/n shrugged.

“uh…no, not really,” y/n said.

“good,” janet nodded immediately, “stay a few days,”

michael blinked.

“what?”

“you just got here. you came all this way. you’re not leaving after one night,”

“i don’t wanna intrude…” y/n hesitated, glancing between her and michael.

“you’re not intruding,” janet said quickly, stepping further in, “this is literally the least intruding situation possible. you’re family,”

that word landed softly in the room.

michael looked down at the counter, like he was trying to pretend it didn’t affect him.

y/n’s expression softened.

“…are you sure?”

“positive,”

she turned slightly, finally looking at michael now.

“right, mikey?”

“oh…uh…yeah. of course. you should stay,” michael straightened a little, caught off guard, “i mean, if you want to. not like- y’know. you don’t have to. but you can. obviously,”

y/n nodded, smiling softly.

“i’ll stay a few days, then,” she decided softly.

janet smiled, turning her back to them as she moved towards the stairs.

their plan had officially began.

❀❀❀❀