disclaimer: i only write for michael jackson. i do not write: hard kinks (cnc, ageplay, noncon, etc), gender bent michael, or change his sexuality. i aim to portray him as canon as possible. my fics are all self-inserts & the reader is black-coded (though it is not explicitly stated). mdni, mdnf!
╰┈➤ requests: 𐔌open! 𐦯
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michael imagines:
💬 1 🔁 5 ❤️ 181 · slightly toxic michael jackson x fem!reader situationship(?) imagine…
imagine michael sitting on the velvet sofa of yo
💬 0 🔁 4 ❤️ 116 · imagine based on that one gif of michael pulling sheryl crow closer by her belt on stage…
(this isn’t proof read)
ima
💬 3 🔁 10 ❤️ 140 · imagine hiding mature!michael’s wig and helping him find it
word count: 332
a/n: this is so dumb sorry and not proof r
michael one shots:
💬 4 🔁 1 ❤️ 46 · elderly fish · “ y/n comes to a disturbing discovery about her grandma’s not-so-secret boy toy. ”
pairing: michael jackso
💬 2 🔁 7 ❤️ 159 · જ⁀➴ the trick
“ in which you (y/n) realize that your new boyfriend otw!michael will do literally anything for you, even
💬 2 🔁 8 ❤️ 216 · ࿐ relax your mind
“ in which otw!michael isn’t ready for y/n’s advances just yet. ”
ᝰ word count: 724
.ᐟ warnings &
michael series:
💬 3 🔁 2 ❤️ 53 · you’ve got a friend in me pt 1 bestfriend!mj · this is a repost from wattpad, which is also my account. do not reupload or
💬 2 🔁 3 ❤️ 54 · you’ve got a friend in me pt 2 · “ y/n can't help but wonder if her best friend of two years, michael, yearns for her the
💬 2 🔁 7 ❤️ 347 · a friend to call my own · “ in which michael finds someone (y/n) who accepts him for who he is. ”
pairing: strangers to
💬 0 🔁 4 ❤️ 72 · a friend to call my own sequel · “ in which michael finds someone (y/n) who accepts him for who he is. ”
pairing: strange
michael drabbles:
everything written is a complete work of fiction and is my own original work. do not reupload, edit, or claim my work as your own.
“ in which you pick up where you left off with otw!michael. ”
ᝰ word count: 3.8k
.ᐟ warnings & disclaimers: smut ahead, michael info dumps about philosophy, he gets a handjob, y/n overstimulates him, mutual virginity loss, he’s too big, shy and whiny subby!michael, y/n coaches and talks him thru it, mutual reassurance and comfort
✐ a/n: this is the steamy follow-up to relax your mind!!! y/n finally got her some of that dangalangalang
the pages of the thrifted hardcover book made a sharp scraping sound every time he turned them. for the last twenty minutes, the only sound in the bedroom was the eagerness of michael’s voice as he walked you through his findings of a seventeenth-century philosopher whose ideas you couldn't care less about.
he was lying with his back pressed against your chest and his legs stretched out, using your torso as a human pillow. his weight was a warm presence against your lap. lately, he was reading everything he could get his hands on, desperate to expand his mind, and today he was debating consciousness vs the soul.
as he rambled on about this grand new perspective, you looked down at his occupied face. from your angle, his profile was utterly breathtaking. his eyelashes were impossibly long and naturally curled, brushing against the tops of his slightly flushed cheeks every single time he blinked. his short afro was a halo of perfectly defined, tight curls, and a neat line of natural baby hairs softened the edges of his hairline. he looked so young, so entirely brilliant, and yet so beautiful as he yapped away about things that flew right over your head.
you decided tonight was the night to test the waters again. a couple of months ago, you tried to go down on him, but he was too shy. tonight, though, you were going to seduce him so slowly he wouldn't even realize he was surrendering until it was too late. you’d wait again if he refused your advances, but you sure hope that he doesn’t.
leaning forward slightly, you let your index finger drift down to the side of his throat. your fingertips lightly brushed against the thick, pulsing vein in his neck.
the moment your skin made contact, you saw and felt the vein twitch in a fluttery motion. michael briefly paused mid-sentence, his chest hitching, before his voice stuttered and he forced himself to continue talking about the book. he brushed it off.
you didn't let up.
"michael," you interrupted softly, your voice tickling the tip of his ear.
"hm?" he murmured, keeping his eyes glued to the printed page, though his shoulders had gone noticeably tense against your ribs.
"your eyelashes are so long and pretty," you said, your thumb lightly tracing the high curve of his cheekbone. "it's almost not fair for a guy to have them like this."
before he could answer, you ran your finger lightly across the tips of the dark wispy hairs. michael instinctively closed his eye to keep from getting poked. a deep, dark blush instantly formed across his cheeks.
"thanks, minnie," he mumbled. a shy, breathless giggle escaped his lips as he tried to look back at the text, his mind frantically scrambling to remember what point he was trying to make prior to your distraction.
"now... where was i? he was saying that absolute consciousness..." he started gesticulating to get his point across.
you leaned down further, your lips nearly brushing the shell of his ear as you used two fingers to lightly and playfully tug on the tips of his lashes.
"give them to me. you don't need them!" you grumbled in a silly voice with the vibrations radiating onto his pressed back.
that earned a genuine belly laugh from him. his shoulders shook against you as he closed the book with a soft thud, letting it rest on his stomach. he let out a long, defeated sigh, his head tilting back against your shoulder so he could look up at you upside down.
"you don’t listen," he teased, his big coffee eyes swimming with helpless affection.
"you made me forget exactly what i was about t’say."
"oh. must’ve not been important then, huh?" you whispered.
without giving him a second to retort, you spread your hands out and began dragging the flat, hard backs of your fingernails against the sensitive skin on the sides of his ribcage.
michael immediately squirmed, his entire body reacting to the tickling sensation from your feathery fingers. he let out a squeal, his knees bending as he tried to twist away from the light, torturous friction of your nails.
"y/n! don't do that, you know i'm ticklish right there—"
he was catching on now. the atmosphere in the room completely altered. his breathing was turning shallow, his wide eyes searching yours with a sudden realization that you weren't just playing around anymore.
"continue talkin’ about your stuff," you murmured innocently, your hands migrating away from his ribs but remaining flat against his stomach.
"go on, mike. i'm listenin’."
you weren't listening at all. he squinted his eyes at first but then his eyebrows raised in anticipation and excitement.
testing the waters, you slid one hand down the center of his torso, past the band of his levis. you didn't hesitate. you snaked your palm directly over the length of his growing erection, gripping him firmly through the fabric.
michael’s hips bucked hard against the mattress. your touched earned an involuntary, desperate gasp from the flustered man. his hands flew to the sheets, gripping the material so tightly his knuckles turned ash. he didn't stop you. he didn't pull your hand away or tell you to quit. instead, he just lied there voluntarily trapped.
you slowly undid the fastening of his jeans, the metallic slide of his zipper sounding incredibly loud in the quiet space. sliding your hand right inside his drawls, your bare skin finally made contact with his hot, veiny shaft. he was incredibly hard, a bead of pre-cum already dampening the tip.
as you wrapped your fingers around him, michael completely unraveled.
all the confident, superstar energy he carried on stage was stripped away. he was incredibly sensitive to your touch, his body jumping and twitching at every single upward stroke of your palm.
"oh... oh god, y/n," he whined, his voice breaking into a high, raspy whimper. he slammed his eyes shut, his head thrashing against your shoulder, his slender legs sliding up and down against your legs. he was so embarrassed by how quickly his body surrendered to you, yet he was completely powerless to stop it.
your thumb worked the smooth head of his length, smearing the natural moisture over his skin in a slow, heavy rhythm. every time your palm slid down to the base, lightly pressing against his balls, michael would let out a small, pathetic sob, his toes curling tightly inside his socks as his hips gave little, weak jerks against your hand. he was completely at your mercy, his hands trembling as he brought one arm up to cover his eyes, hiding his face.
"put your arm down, mike," you commanded softly, tightening your grip just a fraction to show him who was in control.
he let out a shaky whine, slowly pulling his arm away from his face. when his eyes opened, they were completely glassy, swimming with a heavy layer of tears and a dark, dilated lust that made his pupils look massive. you craned your neck over his head that was lying against your shoulder to get a glimpse of the picturesque sight. he looked so beautifully undone, his lower lip trembling as he bit down on it to keep from making too much noise.
"is it too much?" you asked, slowing your pace down to a torturous, agonizingly slow crawl.
"no... no, please don't stop," he begged, his voice cracking completely as his hips instinctively followed the movement of your hand, chasing the friction he so desperately needed. "it feels... it feels so good, y/n, please. i-i’m—ngh—sorry i'm being so noisy."
"you don't have to apologize," you whispered, speeding your hand back up, the messy, wet sound of your skin sliding against his filling the air.
michael’s breathing turned into a series of rapid pants, his throat clicking as he swallowed hard, salvia pooling against his teeth. his muscles started locking as the friction brought him closer and closer to the edge. he couldn't handle the intensity; he was so sensitive that every little shift of your fingers made him shudder from head to toe.
"y/n... i'm gonna... i'm gonna mess up," he gasped out, his fingers clawing at your thigh now, holding onto your spare hand for dear life as the pleasure began to blind him. "i'm gonna—y/n, please—"
"do it, michael. right here for me."
with a loud orgasmic cry, michael’s hips bucked sharply into your palm one last time. his entire body locked with his head dug against your chest as his dick repeatedly released his warmth all over your fingers and his own stomach. he shuddered through five long, thick pulses, his chest heaving, leaving him completely spent.
for a long time, the only sound was the uneven sound of his breathing. michael slowly opened his eyes, looking down at the messy reality of his stomach and your covered hand, before turning on his side and hiding his face right into the crook of your neck, his body trembling with sweet, lingering embarrassment as you gently held him close.
the sounds of michael’s breathing slowly began to level out, his chest rising and falling in long, shallow dips against your collarbone. his long arms draped limply over the mattress with his skin glistening with a light sheen of sweat under the bedroom’s warm atmosphere. you milked him dry and turned his brain off. his eyes were half-lidded with his curls slightly crushed against your shoulder after his paralyzing orgasm.
but you weren't finished with him yet.
without warning, you slid your slick palm down his stomach and suddenly gripped his softening shaft, squeezing the thick base firmly.
michael’s eyes shot wide open, his pupils dilating instantly as he let out a loud cry—a mix of a gasp and a whimpering shout—his entire torso arching completely off your chest as he quickly turned back on his back. his knees flexed into the mattress, his hips giving a desperate, involuntary jerk away from your hand as the sensitivity of his skin radiated under your touch.
"y/n! oh, god!" he cried out, his voice cracking as he reached down with a trembling, slick hand to weakly grasp your wrist, trying to pull you away without hurting you. he was panting heavily, his chest heaving and his already flushed cheeks growing a deeper shade of red.
"it's too much, it's too sensitive—"
you couldn't help but let out a soft, wicked laugh at the absolute power you held over him. you didn't let go, keeping your fingers loosely coiled around him, and something about the sound of your laughter at his expense made his shaft twitch firmly right inside your palm, hardening slightly all over again.
you let out a faux, exaggerated aww, pouting your lips into a puppy-dog face as you looked down at his stunned face.
"what do you mean you can't take anymore, mike? you can't be tapped out already. i thought we were just gettin’ started."
michael’s throat clicked as he swallowed hard, his large boba eyes searching your face with a mixture of raw, helpless lust and total bewilderment. you leaned down, your lips hovering just inches from his nose.
"what are you gonna do about me next, michael?"
he knew exactly what you meant. the question hung heavily in the warm air between you, but he never crossed that line before. the reality of what it meant to actually penetrate a woman, to lose his virginity after twenty-one years of strict religious restraint and performing nonstop made his stomach flip. he gulped, his eyes instantly dropping down to the sheets as his natural.
you had never done it either, but the shared inexperience wasn't going to deter you tonight. you came too far to let him slip back into his shell.
reaching up with your free hand, you gently but firmly caught his chin, forcing his head up so his eyes had no choice but to lock back onto yours.
"look at me, mike," you whispered, your voice softening into a deeply reassuring, tender tone.
"i'm a virgin too. we're in the exact same place."
he didn't have to say it for you to know; the beating of his heart against your ribs and the innocent hesitation in his touch already told you everything. but hearing you voice the truth and seeing the desire in your eyes gave him a small boost of motivation and courage.
slowly, michael shifted his weight. he pushed himself up from your chest as he turned toward you. he sat back on his knees between your thighs. his jeans were completely ruined, pushed down around his hips, and his shirt hung completely open, exposing the smooth, muscular definition of his chest and abdomen.
"i just... i don't wanna mess up, y/n," he confessed softly, his voice trembling. his large hands rested flat on his own thighs, his knuckles tense.
"i want it to be perfect for you. i don't want to hurt you."
you reached forward, resting your palms against his warm and broad thumping chest.
"you can't mess up, michael," you told him, holding his gaze. "just... pretend you're like yourself on stage. confident. worry-free. just let yourself go."
the advice seemed to strike a chord deep within the entertainer inside him. michael closed his eyes, taking a few deep breaths to steady the trembling in his limbs. when he opened his eyes again, the panic receded significantly and was replaced with a sense of clarity and a surge of confidence—even if it was only temporary.
"take my clothes off, michael," you commanded gently.
he obeyed immediately. he reached for the hem of your top. he took his time, but there was no hesitation left in his hands. he slid the fabric up over your head, his eyes glued to the perkiness od your rounded breasts. his hand ghosted over your nipple hesitantly as you gave him a gentle nod.
he softly gripped your underboob as he ran his thumb across the sensitive bud, earning a lip bite from you
his large palms smoothed down the curves of your waist, gently sliding your remaining undergarments down your legs until you were lying completely bare beneath his heavy gaze. his hands were shaking again seeing your nude body up close and personal. you were as gorgeous as he imagined you to be. your neatly trimmed bush had a thick, glistening glob of precum smeared on top of it and surrounding your anus; your arousal for him was very evident, which made his shaft jerk. your pussy lips were just barely parted, giving him a glimpse into your taffy labia. his own precum was leaking from his reddish brown tip ever so slowly.
michael hovered over you, his shoulders blocking out the rest of the view as he slowly crawled between your thighs. the size of his dick was staggering as he aligned himself against your entrance. the thick head of his length brushed against your slick, natural moisture, opening it further. you jerked upward, your stomach clenched as your hands flew up to his forearms to brace yourself. your heart was beating wildly; this was the moment you’ve been waiting for. he let out a low, shaky exhale, his body trembling as he slowly began to push his way inside you. he quietly whispered a prayer to himself.
"ah—wait, mike, stop," you suddenly gasped out, your fingers digging deep into the muscles of his forearms.
he froze instantly, his chest heaving as he held himself perfectly still. you had to have him stop a few times right at the beginning; his length and thickness were entirely too much for your body to accommodate all at once. the foreign, stretching pressure sent a sharp, stinging sensation through you, causing your tight walls to pulsate frantically, squeezing down around his shaft in tight waves as your body tried to adapt to the intrusion.
“you’re too big...” you mumble shifting your weight to try and adjust. you felt the way it pulsed inside of you from what you said.
michael tried his absolute best to play it cool, keeping his jaw clenched and his face composed, but that crushing sensation of your walls devouring him was driving him wild inside. his forehead broke out in a fresh layer of sweat, his teeth sinking deeply into his plush lower lip as he fought the desperate urge to just thrust deep into your warmth. he knew right then and there that he wasn't going to last long—you were so incredibly warm, extremely tight, and so beautifully wet that every single fraction of an inch pushed deeper into you felt like torture.
"you okay, pretty girl?" he forced out, his voice incredibly raspy, thick with the effort it took to hold himself back.
"i'm going slow. i promise."
you nodded weakly, taking deep breaths as the initial sting began to dissolve, replaced by a deep ache of pure pleasure. eventually, your tight hole adapted to his size, yielding to his presence. feeling the tension ease, michael slowly began to stroke you, burying his full length delicately inside your walls, establishing a slow cadence that made the mattress creak softly beneath you.
at first, your moans were barely audible—just tiny, breathless whimpers from your ajar lips as you adjusted to the consuming fullness of him. but as he continued to slide in and out, his large hips started driving forward with a steady momentum. the pleasure began to override your vocal reluctance. your moans grew louder, echoing clearly in the quiet space of the bedroom.
hearing those sounds unleashed something in him. a beautiful smile cut across his features, his deep dimples carving into his cheeks. to michael, your moans were the sweetest, cutest and most magnificent noise he had ever heard in his entire life. he couldn't stop looking at you. he kept his eyes locked onto your face, completely captivated by the way your eyes were rolled back, your lips parted as you nibbled on your index finger to soothe yourself. you looked so incredibly small, so entirely vulnerable and precious underneath him completely surrendered to his touch.
needing more, you reached down between your bodies, your fingers trembling as you grabbed his large hand and dragged it down to the swollen, hyper-sensitive knot of your clit.
"mike... touch it," you panted, your hip bones stuttering against his.
"like this?" he asked softly. he adjusted his grip, using the large, pad of his thumb to softly stroke the sensitive bundle of nerves.
the reaction was instantaneous. you let out a loud whimper and a mmm, your back arching off the bed and your legs spreading wider. your tight walls clamped down around his shaft like a vice.
michael let out a low grunt at the sudden squeeze, slowly losing his control. he reached down and hooked his arms underneath your knees, pulling you up flush against his chest. the new angle drove him impossibly deeper inside you, hitting your sweet spot with brutal accuracy. he picked up his pace, his thrusts turning faster, harder, and far more urgent.
“you’re so good mich—god!” you exclaim, boosting his confidence with your verbal confirmation.
he intertwined his long fingers with yours, pinning your hands to the sheets on either side of your head. he tried his absolute best to hold back his own moans, his jaw clenching as he fought to keep the sounds trapped in his chest, his shyness still making him want to remain quiet. tears were starting to well in his eyes from the intense pleasure.
you pulled your head back against the pillow, your eyes half-closed and glassy as you found your words through the haze of pleasure.
"michael... your voice," you breathlessly panted, looking up at his sweating face. "don't be quiet. it's so beautiful... let me hear you."
slowly, michael began to quietly whimper, letting out soft, airy moans alongside yours as he buried his face directly into the crook of your neck and shoulder. his hot, rapid breath tickled your neck, sending shivers down your spine, before his lips suddenly pressed against your skin. he began to suck on the sensitive flesh of your throat—needing something, anything, to soothe the agonizing fact that his balls were about to completely explode.
he pulled you even tighter against him, his broad chest crushing your breasts as his hips drove into yours with a frantic, uncoordinated speed. the sudden, deep and sharp penetration caused you to shout out
"y/n... oh, god, y/n," he whined into your shoulder, his body shaking from head to toe as his muscles locked up. his thrusts turned shallow and frantic.
"i can't—i can't hold it anymore! i'm sorry... i'm about to mess up. i'm coming, baby, i'm coming—"
he began apologizing and spewing out straight nonsense as he shut his eyes.
with a final, deep plunge, michael completely lost control. he began coming inside you like a fountain, his length throbbing violently, repeatedly in your swollen hole as he released his warmth deep within you. he shivered against you, his voice breaking into a series of high, breathless cries as he buried his face in your hair.
the intense, throbbing sensation of his release was the exact trigger your body needed. you came immediately after him, your tight, exhausted walls convulsing in an intense spasm that devoured his shaft, milking him for every single drop he had left. you let out a long curling moan, your fingers gripping the skin of his back as your own climax took you through it. your bodies were slippery from the sweat now.
slowly, michael gathered the strength to move. he pushed himself up onto his elbows, looking down at you with a gaze that was so entirely soft that it made your chest ache. he leaned in, his lips parted as he weakly, tenderly pressed a wet, lingering kiss to your mouth.
michael carefully, slowly slid his length out of your body, a soft, involuntary whine escaping his lips at the loss of your warmth.
like clockwork, his shyness came right back as he watched your hole expand to push out his thick, hot cum repeatedly. he quickly pulled the heavy comforter up over both of your bodies, tucking you in as if trying to hide the evidence of what he just did.
"i'm sorry," he whispered automatically, his voice incredibly small as he refused to look you directly in the eye. he rubbed the back of his neck.
"i... i ruined you. are you okay? did i hurt you too much?"
you couldn't help but smile, reaching out from beneath the sheets to take his hand.
"michael, look at me. you didn't hurt me. it was perfect."
hearing your reassurance, his shoulders visibly relaxed. he shifted closer to you, pulling you into his arms and tucking your head underneath his chin. his large, warm hand began to slowly rub your back in soothing circles, his touch incredibly light as he quietly held you. you two didn’t say anything else for a while. you smiled to yourself knowing you finally got him where you want him.
cooking michael go! it is. it will be uploaded soon yall. thanks for voting!! I will also upload the other two fics at some point since I saw some ppl say they still wanted them :)
“ in which you and your best friend are stranded in the countryside but are rescued by a family of fine farmers, with farmer!michael catching your eye. ”
ᝰ word count: 1.3k
.ᐟ warnings & disclaimers: none, cute country fluff, y/n meets michael for the first time, a love at first sight kinda thang, joe capitalizing on their farm business, michael is not famous in this
✐ a/n: in an alternate universe, this happened. i was there.
the scenery alongside the gravel road became nothing but dirt, irrigation pivots, and overgrown weeds about an hour ago, leaving your brown and green station wagon sputtering in the middle of nowhere. the countryside stretched out in endless flat rows of clover and thistle—beautiful but terrifyingly empty. your best friend, tamara, was furiously tapping her foot against the floorboard, flipping through a paper map that was completely useless.
"there hasn't been a gas station for thirty miles."
"we are officially in the twilight zone, y/n," tamara groaned, pushing her sunglasses up into her hair.
a tumbleweed rolls past the car, almost on cue. the only thing missing in this desolate setting was a lone man playing a harmonica.
just as the sun began to dip below the horizon, casting a faint purple glow over the grassy fields, the light parted through the bundle of trees to reveal a massive, breathtaking homestead. the centerpiece was a bright red farmhouse, its paint so vibrant it looked like something out of a storybook. it sat on copious amounts of land, surrounded by towering stalks of sweet corn, golden wheat fields, and neatly fenced pastures dotted with grazing horses and fat, fluffy sheep. it was a picture-perfect kingdom run by a fine family of farmers.
and that was exactly how you met michael.
he was standing near the weathered white barn when you pulled up, a wire basket of fresh eggs balanced on his hip. two women, who you assumed were his sisters, were nearby taking down clothes from the clothesline. out of all his tall, ripped brothers who immediately swarmed the car with charming, promiscuous grins, michael was the kindest, gentlest, and shyest of them all. they all wore denim overalls, some dusted with dirt and dried mud.
while his brother jackie immediately began leaning against the car door, flashing tamara a heart-melting smile with a piece of wheat in his mouth that made her forget how angry she was, michael stepped forward with a soft, bashful smile. his dark eyes were wide and sweet, his rich brown skin glowing in the fading sunlight, and his curls were tucked neatly under a faded denim cap.
"you folks look a little turned around," he murmured, his voice a quiet smooth butter that made your chest tighten in adoration.
he took charge in the gentlest way possible. as his brothers started playfully teasing and flirting a bit too heavily with you obvious city girls, michael subtly stepped between you, his broad shoulders acting as a quiet shield. he guided you away from the commotion, offering to show you around the property while the engine cooled down. as you two sauntered past the passing goats and geese, he led you into the sweet-smelling barn.
he guided you over to a massive spotted cow who was lazily wagging her tail. you’ve never seen such a big animal up close before, so you nervously kept your distance. sensing your hesitation, he motioned you to come closer.
“this is sallie. she’s the sweetest thang. she’s just a big girl is all.” he tells you softly, rubbing her head with the knuckle of his index finger. she closed her eyes in bliss.
you came closer and rubbed her back. she was softer than expected and smelled really good for a barn animal. you giggled at the foreign sensation of her fur.
“i think she likes it!” you exclaim smiling down at sallie who had her eyes closed.
he smiles at you hovering slightly behind you, with his hand shoved in his deep pocket. “cows are like dogs. i refuse to eat them or any other animal. they’re too precious.” he says.
“my family, though, they eat most of these poor, wonderful creatures. but i told them to leave sallie and a few others alone. that’s why i built my own barn for ‘em.”
“wanna see how we milk ‘em?” he cheerfully asked as you eagerly nodded your head. you’ve only seen a cow be milked in cartoons before. he pulled over a handmade wooden stool and a plastic bucket. he sat on the bucket and pat the wooden stool for you to sit on before pausing.
“ah- here.” he mumbles, scurrying to grab a patchwork circular seat cushion and placing it down for you before you sat down. you smiled warmly and mumbled a thank you.
his long, slender fingers moving with a practiced grace as he guided your hands, his face turning red when his shoulder accidentally brushed against yours. his hands were roughed and calloused, a clear indication that he had working hands. you couldn’t deny you found that attractive.
as he finished—with him having done most of the milking since you were pretty bad at it (though he wouldn’t dare tell you that)— he tells you about the most amazing strawberry ice cream sallie’s milk makes.
the chemistry between you both undeniable; every time your eyes met, he would look down at his dusty espresso-colored boots, a deep dimple half-mooning into his cheek as he cleared his throat nervously.
"it's getting awfully dark," michael said softly, guiding you both into the massive, warm kitchen of the farmhouse. he carefully bottled the milk from the milking session earlier in glass bottles and placed it in the fridge.
"you oughta use our house phone to let your folks know you're safe. and mother says you have to stay for dinner."
his mother, katherine, practically commanded you two to spend the night in their spacious guest bedroom. she was a force of nature, laying down a delicious country dinner spread of fried chicken, mashed potatoes, biscuits, and fresh corn, while firmly yet kindly telling you that it was far too late for two city girls to be driving these dangerous back roads in the dark. neither you or tamara tasted a meal so fresh, flavorful, and rich before and felt the kindness extended to you both. she promised her husband would send you and tamara on your way to the city with a fresh tank of gas in the morning.
during the dinner after everyone washed up and changed into their night clothes, their father and her husband, joe, explained the logistics of their family farm business to you guests. it was apparent their children feared the man and respected him deeply, since they didn’t speak when he spoke and didn’t stare in his eyes too long. he clearly ran a tight ship, explaining how he expected nothing short of perfection. michael joined the business at the tender age of five—all the family had no choice but to work to make a living and escape poverty.
they apparently have one of the most successful farming businesses in the country and even have a popular farm calendar with his sons featured as each month and family recipes on the back of them. you weren’t sure what to think of any of that information or the fact that he probably violated child labor laws somehow, so you just politely smiled and nodded.
later that night, tucked beneath a heavy, handmade quilt in the cozy guest room, the humid air was filled with you and tamara’s giggles.
"y/n, did you see the way jackie looked at me when he passed the biscuits?" tamara squealed into her pillow, her face entirely flushed. "i think i'm in love with a farmer."
"he was definitely staring," you laughed, your heart doing a happy little flip as you stared at the ceiling.
"but michael... tamara, he's the sweetest person i've ever met. his sister janet told me that he was always like that. and michael told me he'd walk me to my car in the morning."
"he's totally gonna ask for your number," tamara nudged you playfully. "he was working up the courage all through dessert."
gushing over the handsome brothers, you both finally closed your eyes as you drifted off to sleep, already eager for the morning. you didn’t know the countryside had so much to offer.
I have a fic queued for this afternoon but vote (if you’d like) for one of the upcoming fics in my recent poll. i need to interact with you divas more.
“ in which you pick up where you left off with otw!michael. ”
ᝰ word count: 3.8k
.ᐟ warnings & disclaimers: smut ahead, michael info dumps about philosophy, he gets a handjob, y/n overstimulates him, mutual virginity loss, he’s too big, shy and whiny subby!michael, y/n coaches and talks him thru it, mutual reassurance and comfort
✐ a/n: this is the steamy follow-up to relax your mind!!! y/n finally got her some of that dangalangalang
the pages of the thrifted hardcover book made a sharp scraping sound every time he turned them. for the last twenty minutes, the only sound in the bedroom was the eagerness of michael’s voice as he walked you through his findings of a seventeenth-century philosopher whose ideas you couldn't care less about.
he was lying with his back pressed against your chest and his legs stretched out, using your torso as a human pillow. his weight was a warm presence against your lap. lately, he was reading everything he could get his hands on, desperate to expand his mind, and today he was debating consciousness vs the soul.
as he rambled on about this grand new perspective, you looked down at his occupied face. from your angle, his profile was utterly breathtaking. his eyelashes were impossibly long and naturally curled, brushing against the tops of his slightly flushed cheeks every single time he blinked. his short afro was a halo of perfectly defined, tight curls, and a neat line of natural baby hairs softened the edges of his hairline. he looked so young, so entirely brilliant, and yet so beautiful as he yapped away about things that flew right over your head.
you decided tonight was the night to test the waters again. a couple of months ago, you tried to go down on him, but he was too shy. tonight, though, you were going to seduce him so slowly he wouldn't even realize he was surrendering until it was too late. you’d wait again if he refused your advances, but you sure hope that he doesn’t.
leaning forward slightly, you let your index finger drift down to the side of his throat. your fingertips lightly brushed against the thick, pulsing vein in his neck.
the moment your skin made contact, you saw and felt the vein twitch in a fluttery motion. michael briefly paused mid-sentence, his chest hitching, before his voice stuttered and he forced himself to continue talking about the book. he brushed it off.
you didn't let up.
"michael," you interrupted softly, your voice tickling the tip of his ear.
"hm?" he murmured, keeping his eyes glued to the printed page, though his shoulders had gone noticeably tense against your ribs.
"your eyelashes are so long and pretty," you said, your thumb lightly tracing the high curve of his cheekbone. "it's almost not fair for a guy to have them like this."
before he could answer, you ran your finger lightly across the tips of the dark wispy hairs. michael instinctively closed his eye to keep from getting poked. a deep, dark blush instantly formed across his cheeks.
"thanks, minnie," he mumbled. a shy, breathless giggle escaped his lips as he tried to look back at the text, his mind frantically scrambling to remember what point he was trying to make prior to your distraction.
"now... where was i? he was saying that absolute consciousness..." he started gesticulating to get his point across.
you leaned down further, your lips nearly brushing the shell of his ear as you used two fingers to lightly and playfully tug on the tips of his lashes.
"give them to me. you don't need them!" you grumbled in a silly voice with the vibrations radiating onto his pressed back.
that earned a genuine belly laugh from him. his shoulders shook against you as he closed the book with a soft thud, letting it rest on his stomach. he let out a long, defeated sigh, his head tilting back against your shoulder so he could look up at you upside down.
"you don’t listen," he teased, his big coffee eyes swimming with helpless affection.
"you made me forget exactly what i was about t’say."
"oh. must’ve not been important then, huh?" you whispered.
without giving him a second to retort, you spread your hands out and began dragging the flat, hard backs of your fingernails against the sensitive skin on the sides of his ribcage.
michael immediately squirmed, his entire body reacting to the tickling sensation from your feathery fingers. he let out a squeal, his knees bending as he tried to twist away from the light, torturous friction of your nails.
"y/n! don't do that, you know i'm ticklish right there—"
he was catching on now. the atmosphere in the room completely altered. his breathing was turning shallow, his wide eyes searching yours with a sudden realization that you weren't just playing around anymore.
"continue talkin’ about your stuff," you murmured innocently, your hands migrating away from his ribs but remaining flat against his stomach.
"go on, mike. i'm listenin’."
you weren't listening at all. he squinted his eyes at first but then his eyebrows raised in anticipation and excitement.
testing the waters, you slid one hand down the center of his torso, past the band of his levis. you didn't hesitate. you snaked your palm directly over the length of his growing erection, gripping him firmly through the fabric.
michael’s hips bucked hard against the mattress. your touched earned an involuntary, desperate gasp from the flustered man. his hands flew to the sheets, gripping the material so tightly his knuckles turned ash. he didn't stop you. he didn't pull your hand away or tell you to quit. instead, he just lied there voluntarily trapped.
you slowly undid the fastening of his jeans, the metallic slide of his zipper sounding incredibly loud in the quiet space. sliding your hand right inside his drawls, your bare skin finally made contact with his hot, veiny shaft. he was incredibly hard, a bead of pre-cum already dampening the tip.
as you wrapped your fingers around him, michael completely unraveled.
all the confident, superstar energy he carried on stage was stripped away. he was incredibly sensitive to your touch, his body jumping and twitching at every single upward stroke of your palm.
"oh... oh god, y/n," he whined, his voice breaking into a high, raspy whimper. he slammed his eyes shut, his head thrashing against your shoulder, his slender legs sliding up and down against your legs. he was so embarrassed by how quickly his body surrendered to you, yet he was completely powerless to stop it.
your thumb worked the smooth head of his length, smearing the natural moisture over his skin in a slow, heavy rhythm. every time your palm slid down to the base, lightly pressing against his balls, michael would let out a small, pathetic sob, his toes curling tightly inside his socks as his hips gave little, weak jerks against your hand. he was completely at your mercy, his hands trembling as he brought one arm up to cover his eyes, hiding his face.
"put your arm down, mike," you commanded softly, tightening your grip just a fraction to show him who was in control.
he let out a shaky whine, slowly pulling his arm away from his face. when his eyes opened, they were completely glassy, swimming with a heavy layer of tears and a dark, dilated lust that made his pupils look massive. you craned your neck over his head that was lying against your shoulder to get a glimpse of the picturesque sight. he looked so beautifully undone, his lower lip trembling as he bit down on it to keep from making too much noise.
"is it too much?" you asked, slowing your pace down to a torturous, agonizingly slow crawl.
"no... no, please don't stop," he begged, his voice cracking completely as his hips instinctively followed the movement of your hand, chasing the friction he so desperately needed. "it feels... it feels so good, y/n, please. i-i’m—ngh—sorry i'm being so noisy."
"you don't have to apologize," you whispered, speeding your hand back up, the messy, wet sound of your skin sliding against his filling the air.
michael’s breathing turned into a series of rapid pants, his throat clicking as he swallowed hard, salvia pooling against his teeth. his muscles started locking as the friction brought him closer and closer to the edge. he couldn't handle the intensity; he was so sensitive that every little shift of your fingers made him shudder from head to toe.
"y/n... i'm gonna... i'm gonna mess up," he gasped out, his fingers clawing at your thigh now, holding onto your spare hand for dear life as the pleasure began to blind him. "i'm gonna—y/n, please—"
"do it, michael. right here for me."
with a loud orgasmic cry, michael’s hips bucked sharply into your palm one last time. his entire body locked with his head dug against your chest as his dick repeatedly released his warmth all over your fingers and his own stomach. he shuddered through five long, thick pulses, his chest heaving, leaving him completely spent.
for a long time, the only sound was the uneven sound of his breathing. michael slowly opened his eyes, looking down at the messy reality of his stomach and your covered hand, before turning on his side and hiding his face right into the crook of your neck, his body trembling with sweet, lingering embarrassment as you gently held him close.
the sounds of michael’s breathing slowly began to level out, his chest rising and falling in long, shallow dips against your collarbone. his long arms draped limply over the mattress with his skin glistening with a light sheen of sweat under the bedroom’s warm atmosphere. you milked him dry and turned his brain off. his eyes were half-lidded with his curls slightly crushed against your shoulder after his paralyzing orgasm.
but you weren't finished with him yet.
without warning, you slid your slick palm down his stomach and suddenly gripped his softening shaft, squeezing the thick base firmly.
michael’s eyes shot wide open, his pupils dilating instantly as he let out a loud cry—a mix of a gasp and a whimpering shout—his entire torso arching completely off your chest as he quickly turned back on his back. his knees flexed into the mattress, his hips giving a desperate, involuntary jerk away from your hand as the sensitivity of his skin radiated under your touch.
"y/n! oh, god!" he cried out, his voice cracking as he reached down with a trembling, slick hand to weakly grasp your wrist, trying to pull you away without hurting you. he was panting heavily, his chest heaving and his already flushed cheeks growing a deeper shade of red.
"it's too much, it's too sensitive—"
you couldn't help but let out a soft, wicked laugh at the absolute power you held over him. you didn't let go, keeping your fingers loosely coiled around him, and something about the sound of your laughter at his expense made his shaft twitch firmly right inside your palm, hardening slightly all over again.
you let out a faux, exaggerated aww, pouting your lips into a puppy-dog face as you looked down at his stunned face.
"what do you mean you can't take anymore, mike? you can't be tapped out already. i thought we were just gettin’ started."
michael’s throat clicked as he swallowed hard, his large boba eyes searching your face with a mixture of raw, helpless lust and total bewilderment. you leaned down, your lips hovering just inches from his nose.
"what are you gonna do about me next, michael?"
he knew exactly what you meant. the question hung heavily in the warm air between you, but he never crossed that line before. the reality of what it meant to actually penetrate a woman, to lose his virginity after twenty-one years of strict religious restraint and performing nonstop made his stomach flip. he gulped, his eyes instantly dropping down to the sheets as his natural.
you had never done it either, but the shared inexperience wasn't going to deter you tonight. you came too far to let him slip back into his shell.
reaching up with your free hand, you gently but firmly caught his chin, forcing his head up so his eyes had no choice but to lock back onto yours.
"look at me, mike," you whispered, your voice softening into a deeply reassuring, tender tone.
"i'm a virgin too. we're in the exact same place."
he didn't have to say it for you to know; the beating of his heart against your ribs and the innocent hesitation in his touch already told you everything. but hearing you voice the truth and seeing the desire in your eyes gave him a small boost of motivation and courage.
slowly, michael shifted his weight. he pushed himself up from your chest as he turned toward you. he sat back on his knees between your thighs. his jeans were completely ruined, pushed down around his hips, and his shirt hung completely open, exposing the smooth, muscular definition of his chest and abdomen.
"i just... i don't wanna mess up, y/n," he confessed softly, his voice trembling. his large hands rested flat on his own thighs, his knuckles tense.
"i want it to be perfect for you. i don't want to hurt you."
you reached forward, resting your palms against his warm and broad thumping chest.
"you can't mess up, michael," you told him, holding his gaze. "just... pretend you're like yourself on stage. confident. worry-free. just let yourself go."
the advice seemed to strike a chord deep within the entertainer inside him. michael closed his eyes, taking a few deep breaths to steady the trembling in his limbs. when he opened his eyes again, the panic receded significantly and was replaced with a sense of clarity and a surge of confidence—even if it was only temporary.
"take my clothes off, michael," you commanded gently.
he obeyed immediately. he reached for the hem of your top. he took his time, but there was no hesitation left in his hands. he slid the fabric up over your head, his eyes glued to the perkiness od your rounded breasts. his hand ghosted over your nipple hesitantly as you gave him a gentle nod.
he softly gripped your underboob as he ran his thumb across the sensitive bud, earning a lip bite from you
his large palms smoothed down the curves of your waist, gently sliding your remaining undergarments down your legs until you were lying completely bare beneath his heavy gaze. his hands were shaking again seeing your nude body up close and personal. you were as gorgeous as he imagined you to be. your neatly trimmed bush had a thick, glistening glob of precum smeared on top of it and surrounding your anus; your arousal for him was very evident, which made his shaft jerk. your pussy lips were just barely parted, giving him a glimpse into your taffy labia. his own precum was leaking from his reddish brown tip ever so slowly.
michael hovered over you, his shoulders blocking out the rest of the view as he slowly crawled between your thighs. the size of his dick was staggering as he aligned himself against your entrance. the thick head of his length brushed against your slick, natural moisture, opening it further. you jerked upward, your stomach clenched as your hands flew up to his forearms to brace yourself. your heart was beating wildly; this was the moment you’ve been waiting for. he let out a low, shaky exhale, his body trembling as he slowly began to push his way inside you. he quietly whispered a prayer to himself.
"ah—wait, mike, stop," you suddenly gasped out, your fingers digging deep into the muscles of his forearms.
he froze instantly, his chest heaving as he held himself perfectly still. you had to have him stop a few times right at the beginning; his length and thickness were entirely too much for your body to accommodate all at once. the foreign, stretching pressure sent a sharp, stinging sensation through you, causing your tight walls to pulsate frantically, squeezing down around his shaft in tight waves as your body tried to adapt to the intrusion.
“you’re too big...” you mumble shifting your weight to try and adjust. you felt the way it pulsed inside of you from what you said.
michael tried his absolute best to play it cool, keeping his jaw clenched and his face composed, but that crushing sensation of your walls devouring him was driving him wild inside. his forehead broke out in a fresh layer of sweat, his teeth sinking deeply into his plush lower lip as he fought the desperate urge to just thrust deep into your warmth. he knew right then and there that he wasn't going to last long—you were so incredibly warm, extremely tight, and so beautifully wet that every single fraction of an inch pushed deeper into you felt like torture.
"you okay, pretty girl?" he forced out, his voice incredibly raspy, thick with the effort it took to hold himself back.
"i'm going slow. i promise."
you nodded weakly, taking deep breaths as the initial sting began to dissolve, replaced by a deep ache of pure pleasure. eventually, your tight hole adapted to his size, yielding to his presence. feeling the tension ease, michael slowly began to stroke you, burying his full length delicately inside your walls, establishing a slow cadence that made the mattress creak softly beneath you.
at first, your moans were barely audible—just tiny, breathless whimpers from your ajar lips as you adjusted to the consuming fullness of him. but as he continued to slide in and out, his large hips started driving forward with a steady momentum. the pleasure began to override your vocal reluctance. your moans grew louder, echoing clearly in the quiet space of the bedroom.
hearing those sounds unleashed something in him. a beautiful smile cut across his features, his deep dimples carving into his cheeks. to michael, your moans were the sweetest, cutest and most magnificent noise he had ever heard in his entire life. he couldn't stop looking at you. he kept his eyes locked onto your face, completely captivated by the way your eyes were rolled back, your lips parted as you nibbled on your index finger to soothe yourself. you looked so incredibly small, so entirely vulnerable and precious underneath him completely surrendered to his touch.
needing more, you reached down between your bodies, your fingers trembling as you grabbed his large hand and dragged it down to the swollen, hyper-sensitive knot of your clit.
"mike... touch it," you panted, your hip bones stuttering against his.
"like this?" he asked softly. he adjusted his grip, using the large, pad of his thumb to softly stroke the sensitive bundle of nerves.
the reaction was instantaneous. you let out a loud whimper and a mmm, your back arching off the bed and your legs spreading wider. your tight walls clamped down around his shaft like a vice.
michael let out a low grunt at the sudden squeeze, slowly losing his control. he reached down and hooked his arms underneath your knees, pulling you up flush against his chest. the new angle drove him impossibly deeper inside you, hitting your sweet spot with brutal accuracy. he picked up his pace, his thrusts turning faster, harder, and far more urgent.
“you’re so good mich—god!” you exclaim, boosting his confidence with your verbal confirmation.
he intertwined his long fingers with yours, pinning your hands to the sheets on either side of your head. he tried his absolute best to hold back his own moans, his jaw clenching as he fought to keep the sounds trapped in his chest, his shyness still making him want to remain quiet. tears were starting to well in his eyes from the intense pleasure.
you pulled your head back against the pillow, your eyes half-closed and glassy as you found your words through the haze of pleasure.
"michael... your voice," you breathlessly panted, looking up at his sweating face. "don't be quiet. it's so beautiful... let me hear you."
slowly, michael began to quietly whimper, letting out soft, airy moans alongside yours as he buried his face directly into the crook of your neck and shoulder. his hot, rapid breath tickled your neck, sending shivers down your spine, before his lips suddenly pressed against your skin. he began to suck on the sensitive flesh of your throat—needing something, anything, to soothe the agonizing fact that his balls were about to completely explode.
he pulled you even tighter against him, his broad chest crushing your breasts as his hips drove into yours with a frantic, uncoordinated speed. the sudden, deep and sharp penetration caused you to shout out
"y/n... oh, god, y/n," he whined into your shoulder, his body shaking from head to toe as his muscles locked up. his thrusts turned shallow and frantic.
"i can't—i can't hold it anymore! i'm sorry... i'm about to mess up. i'm coming, baby, i'm coming—"
he began apologizing and spewing out straight nonsense as he shut his eyes.
with a final, deep plunge, michael completely lost control. he began coming inside you like a fountain, his length throbbing violently, repeatedly in your swollen hole as he released his warmth deep within you. he shivered against you, his voice breaking into a series of high, breathless cries as he buried his face in your hair.
the intense, throbbing sensation of his release was the exact trigger your body needed. you came immediately after him, your tight, exhausted walls convulsing in an intense spasm that devoured his shaft, milking him for every single drop he had left. you let out a long curling moan, your fingers gripping the skin of his back as your own climax took you through it. your bodies were slippery from the sweat now.
slowly, michael gathered the strength to move. he pushed himself up onto his elbows, looking down at you with a gaze that was so entirely soft that it made your chest ache. he leaned in, his lips parted as he weakly, tenderly pressed a wet, lingering kiss to your mouth.
michael carefully, slowly slid his length out of your body, a soft, involuntary whine escaping his lips at the loss of your warmth.
like clockwork, his shyness came right back as he watched your hole expand to push out his thick, hot cum repeatedly. he quickly pulled the heavy comforter up over both of your bodies, tucking you in as if trying to hide the evidence of what he just did.
"i'm sorry," he whispered automatically, his voice incredibly small as he refused to look you directly in the eye. he rubbed the back of his neck.
"i... i ruined you. are you okay? did i hurt you too much?"
you couldn't help but smile, reaching out from beneath the sheets to take his hand.
"michael, look at me. you didn't hurt me. it was perfect."
hearing your reassurance, his shoulders visibly relaxed. he shifted closer to you, pulling you into his arms and tucking your head underneath his chin. his large, warm hand began to slowly rub your back in soothing circles, his touch incredibly light as he quietly held you. you two didn’t say anything else for a while. you smiled to yourself knowing you finally got him where you want him.
just thinking about how michael’s soft and gentle voice is literally asmr. like imagine being sleepy and he’s talking to you while the tv plays in the background. nyquil fr. i have more lewd thoughts but imma keep that to myself.
┊ ♡ ﹒ summary : michael is a lovesick loser boy and you get off on that. you say jump, and he says how high. why? because you’re pretty, give him attention and you have the pussy he can’t last three minutes in.
┊ ♡ ﹒ byi : smut! 🔞, submissive michael, mentions of face fucking.. but its not you getting your face fucked :), full on intercourse, reader is a D1 dirty talker, michael struggles with premature ejaculation, talks of loss of virginity, age gap (reader in mid to late twenties, michael is twenty one), strong emotional dependency, jealousy, codependent tendencies, idolization/idealization of a partner, insecurity (michael), power imbalance, bossy reader, lovesick michael. “daddy” is used to tease. reader is also a socialite. girl idk! there’s a lot to unpack here.
The roller rink was pulsing with life beneath a haze of colored lights. Purple, blue and red beams chased each other across the polished floor, reflecting off sequined jackets and the mirrored disco balls suspended from the ceiling.
The venue itself smelled of an array of things: hints of red icee and cotton candy, colognes, heavy hairspray and cigarette smoke as music thundered from enormous speakers mounted in the corners, bass vibrating through the walls and floor alike.
The rink was one of Los Angeles’ worst kept secrets. On any given weekend, half the city seemed to pass through its doors, LA personalities, aspiring musicians and even well known ones, actors, and industry kids all looking for a few hours of normalcy beneath the disco lights. Michael had even performed there once or twice over the years, drawing crowds that packed the floor shoulder to shoulder. Tonight though, he was there because it was Friday night, the music was good—or so he says.
He sat perched on the edge of a vinyl booth near the rink, one leg bouncing restlessly beneath the table. At twenty one, he occupied an awkward space between abandoning boyhood and stepping into superstardom. Off the Wall had transformed everything. People stared now. People whispered. Girls gathered the courage to approach him and then dissolved into nervous giggles halfway there. Yet somehow he still looked slightly uncomfortable with the attention, dressed in a fitted button down and dark bell bottoms, curls falling around his face as he watched the skaters glide by.
Across from him sat Bill, who had spent the better part of the evening pretending not to notice Michael checking the entrance every five minutes.
“Gonna wear a hole in the floor if you keep doing that, Joker.”
Michael looked away from the doors immediately. “Doin’ what?”
Bill chuckled. “Keep those feet still.”
Beside them, one of Michael’s managers leaned back with folded arms. “She’s not coming.”
Michael frowned. “Who?”
That earned him three unimpressed stares.
The manager laughed first. “Right. Sure.”
Michael rolled his eyes and reached for his orange juice, hiding a shy smile. “You guys are trouble..” The real truth was embarrassing enough without them making a spectacle of it.
You’d simply mentioned a few days ago that you might stop by the rink on Friday night around eleven. Any accusations that he was waiting for any particular person were completely unfounded. Baseless, even! The fact that he’d arrived early, picked a booth with a clear view of the entrance, and couldn’t seem to stop looking toward the doors was merely an unfortunate series of coincidences. Right? Right.
The music shifted into another song, drawing a fresh wave of skaters onto the floor. Michael watched absentmindedly, fingers drumming against the side of his cup.
Unfortunately for Michael, the second he saw you every carefully constructed fantasy he’d been rehearsing in his head before he went to sleep these past couple nights went poof! Oh, baby had the vision planned out so perfectly too. You would arrive alone, right? Perhaps a little late knowing how you girls were. Your eyes would find him across the rink.. he’d wave you over with a pretty smile, say something clever to make you giggle, something charming to make you blush, and the two of you would spend the whole evening together. Simple! Romantic! And honestly.. the sort of thing that only ever seemed possible in his imagination.
Instead, you arrived wrapped in a world that had nothing to do with him.
You were laughing before you had even fully stepped inside, surrounded by friends who seemed to orbit you as naturally as planets around the sun. One of them hooked an arm through yours. Another leaned close enough to whisper something that sent you into another fit of giggles. You moved through the crowd completely absorbed in your circle, tucked safely inside a bubble of conversation and affection that Michael found himself staring at with an intensity that bordered on painful.
It was ridiculous, really. He knew that. These were your friends. People who loved you. People who had every right to occupy your attention. Yet all he could think about was how easily they had access to you. They could stand beside you without overthinking. They could make you laugh without rehearsing every sentence beforehand. They could touch your arm, lean into your space, steal your attention for entire evenings without their heart threatening to beat itself clean out of their chest. Michael hated the ugly little stab of jealousy the realization inspired but it settled in anyway, impossible to ignore.
The worst part was that you looked so happy. Not even looking for him. Not wondering if he had shown up. Not scanning the room in search of a familiar face. You were perfectly content exactly where you were and that simple fact managed to burst his fantasy more effectively than outright rejection ever could have. It forced him to confront the embarrassing truth that while he had spent the better part of a week thinking about you, you had probably spent the week simply living your life.
His fingers tightened around his cup as he watched you laugh again, your head tilting back beneath the colorful lights. God, you were beautiful. So beautiful it almost felt unfair. There was something doll like about you tonight, something soft and luminous that seemed untouched by the chaos around you. For a moment, Michael forgot entirely about the drink in his hand. Orange juice slipped over the rim and splashed across the table, but he barely noticed. The pounding in his ears had grown so loud that the rest of the rink seemed to fade into the background.
All he could see was you.
And all he could think, with a mixture of longing and frustration that made him feel like an awkward teen instead of twenty one, was that every single person standing between him and you suddenly felt like an obstacle because they were occupying the exact place he wished he was.
The pounding in his ears was so loud he didn’t even hear Bill calling for him. “Michael.”
No response. “Michael.” Still nothing.
“Yeah, that brotha’s starvin’.” Bill says shaking his head, causing the other two in his party to chuckle at how adorably absurd this entire situation was.
The longer he watched, the worse it became.
At first, Michael told himself he was being dramatic. You had only been there a few minutes. There was no reason to assume you wouldn’t acknowledge him eventually. No reason to let his imagination run wild simply because you were occupied talking with your friends.
Yet with every passing moment, his confidence seemed to shrink.
You looked so settled over there. Every now and then another person would stop to greet you, extending the circle around you further. You laughed, listened, smiled, completely absorbed in whatever conversation was unfolding. Meanwhile, Michael remained exactly where he was, nursing a cup of orange juice and feeling increasingly foolish for having spent the entire evening waiting for you.
The ugly little voice in the back of his mind began whispering all the things he hated most.
Maybe you hadn’t come for him. Maybe you’d only mentioned stopping by in passing. Maybe you hadn’t even noticed he was there.
His stomach twisted.
The more he thought about it, the more embarrassed he became. Suddenly every hopeful fantasy he’d entertained over the past week felt very childish. Of course you weren’t looking for him. Why would you be? You had a life, friends, people you genuinely wanted to see. You were a socialite. The world did not stop spinning simply because Michael Jackson happened to have a crush.
Across the table, Bill watched the slow collapse unfold in real time. The slumped shoulders, distant stare, the deepening pout.
“Don’t start.”
Michael frowned. “’M not startin’ anything.” Oh! He has a little funky attitude now.
“Alright now.” Bill warned and Michael looked away.
For a moment, Michael seriously considered leaving the booth altogether. Maybe he’d skate a few laps, find something else to focus on. Anything was preferable to sitting there feeling sorry for himself while you remained blissfully unaware of the emotional catastrophe taking place twenty feet away.
Then it happened.
Your laughter softened as the conversation around you shifted, and for the first time since you'd arrived your attention wandered. Almost absentmindedly, your gaze swept across the rink drifting over the crowd until it landed on him.
Michael forgot how to breathe.
The feeling was instantaneous and overwhelming. One moment he had been sitting there stewing in his wounded pride, thoroughly convinced that you hadn’t noticed him all evening. The next, he found himself trapped beneath the weight of your attention, every insecurity he’d managed to accumulate over the last ten minutes suddenly feeling ridiculous.
Because you had noticed him.
And apparently, you’d noticed him quite a while ago. A smile began to form on your lips, and Michael felt his stomach drop for an entirely different reason.
It wasn’t a grin nor was it playful enough to be teasing or sweet enough to be innocent. It was something far more dangerous than either of those things. A smile touched with amusement and recognition, as though you’d caught sight of something you found particularly endearing. As though the sight of him sitting over there, staring at you from across the rink like a lovesick puppy had confirmed something you’d suspected all along.
Heat climbed his neck and the longer you looked at him, the more certain he became that you’d seen everything.
You’d seen him checking the entrance, seen him watching your group from across the room. Seen the way his mood had visibly soured the longer he convinced himself you weren’t coming over.
The realization should have mortified him. Instead, all it seemed to do was make him feel validated.
God.
You looked beautiful.
The colorful lights flashed across your face as you stood among your friends on the rink, completely at ease in a way Michael had always envied. While he spent half his life overthinking every conversation, every interaction, every glance, you moved through the world so effortlessly confident that made everything look easy. You never seemed concerned with whether people liked you. They just did. You never chased attention because it found you anyway.
And right now, all of that attention was directed at him.
Neither of you looked away as the skaters continued moving around you. Music thundered from the speakers. Laughter echoed throughout the rink.
Yet somehow the space between you felt strangely quiet.
Then you lifted your hand.
Just one finger.
Crooked toward yourself.
Come here.
It felt like a command because it absolutely was, with the confidence of someone who already knew exactly what would happen next. And the truly humiliating part was that you were right.
Michael was on his feet before his brain had fully processed the gesture. His knee struck the edge of the table and all the drinks nearly spilled over as the booth rattled violently.
A chorus of protests erupted behind him as he nearly sent the entire setup crashing to the floor, but Michael barely heard any of it. He was already moving through the crowd, abandoning every ounce of composure he’d spent the evening trying to maintain.
Behind him, Bill watched the scene unfold with the exhausted expression of a man witnessing something both embarrassing and completely predictable.
“Oh, man. That boy is gone.”
Because after all that moping, it had taken exactly one finger to get Michael Jackson moving. Not a greeting or even his name.
Just a look and a simple little come here.
And off he went.
You stood on the other side of the low barricade that separated the rink from the seating area, balanced easily on your own personal skates. Colored lights skimmed across the polished wood beneath your feet, catching on your jewelry every time you moved. Up close, Michael found you even more distracting. You smelled so good.
The journey across the rink had done absolutely nothing to improve his condition. If anything, it had made it worse.
“Hi, Michael.” You tilted your head slightly as you looked at him, your smile lingering at the corners of your mouth.
“Hi.” The response came out embarrassingly quiet.
For all the confidence he’d managed to summon while crossing the room, it deserted him the second he arrived. He was suddenly intensely interested in the floor, the barricade, the wheels on your skates, anything except your eyes.
A soft laugh escaped your lips. “You look nice.”
Before he could respond, your hand rose to straighten his collar. The gesture was casual and like muscle memory, and Michael felt every nerve in his body come alive beneath your touch. Your fingers smoothed the fabric before sliding behind his neck, settling briefly against the nape.
Your acrylics scratched lightly through his curls just enough to send a pleasant shiver down his spine.
You noticed the way his shoulders stiffened and your smile widened. “Miss me?”
Michael swallowed. The honest answer sat so heavily in his chest that he couldn’t think of a clever way around it.
“Yeah..” His voice was barely above a mumble.
You heard him but you pretended like you didn’t just to hear him say it again. “Hm?”
Then he nodded and a little louder, “Yeah.”
Something softened in your expression, satisfaction. You’d suspected that was going to be the answer and you were merely waiting to hear him say it.
“That’s sweet.”
Michael felt his face grow hotter. You, meanwhile, appeared completely unaffected.
“Go get skates.” You ordered
Michael blinked. “Pardon?” He wasn’t listening, he was staring.
”Go get skates.” You gave his shoulder a light push. “You’re not gonna sit over there all night, are you?”
“Oh, right!” Another blink. “Okay.”
You stared at him.
Michael stared back.
A laugh escaped you. “Michael.”
“Yeah?”
”Go.”
He nodded immediately. “Right. Okay.” Then he turned and started walking away to rent some skates for the night.
By the time the night was halfway over, the pattern had become impossible to ignore.
Michael had spent most of the night orbiting you.
Not hovering awkwardly across the room or lingering nearby under the pretense of doing his own thing. Deadass on you. Every time you moved, he ended up moving too. If you skated toward the opposite side of the rink, he followed. If you stopped to talk to someone, he appeared a few feet behind you waiting for you to get done. More than once, you’d looked over your shoulder only to discover him on your heels, wearing the innocent expression of a man who had absolutely no idea how he’d gotten there.
The funniest part was that he never seemed aware he was doing it, but you were no better.
At one point you’d hooked a finger through one of his belt loops and dragged him through a crowd because he kept getting distracted by people stopping to talk to him. Michael hadn’t protested, he was right where he wanted to be and simply allowed himself to be steered wherever you wanted him, weaving obediently between skaters and crowds alike while your friends tried not to laugh. Which by the way? You didn’t like very much, because you should always be the one giggling him out of his underwear.
Then later, there was a point where the music grew too loud and you’d grabbed his jaw to pull his face closer so you could hear him better.
“What?”
You’d tugged him forward. “What’d you say?”
Michael had repeated himself, this time barely three inches from your ear. The poor thing had nearly short circuited.
Now he was standing at the concession counter retrieving the drink you’s sent him to get, and your friends were watching him with poorly concealed amusement.
“Girl,” One of them said, glancing between you and Michael. “He’s been overly going. All night.”
A smile tugged at your mouth. “I know.”
Across the room, Michael accepted the drink from the cashier before immediately turning to look for you. The second he spotted you, he started heading back like clockwork.
You watched him approach, taking in the sight of him weaving through the crowd with such earnest determination that somehow managed to be both charming and ridiculous.
“He’s just as cute in person, right?” you asked.
Your friend barked out a laugh. “He’s cute but what if the shy thing is for appearances?”
You shrugged, not minding her. “I’ve known him for a while through my dad, he’s really like that. I think it’s charming.”
“How old is he again?”
“Twenty one.”
Your friend made a face. “Girl..”
“What?” You laughed. “I’m twenty (number).”
"I don't know— younger guys.. they be lowkey annoying.”
Your gaze drifted back toward Michael. He was almost there now, protecting the drink from being knocked out of his hands while navigating around people.
The sight made something warm settle in your chest.
“Mm.” You tilted your head slightly, she eyes him. “He’s been good to me though..”
Michael finally reached the group and immediately held out the drink you’d asked for and his expression brightened the moment you took it.
Like he’d just accomplished something so important.
You were feeling generous tonight, maybe even a little possessive.
That was the only explanation you could come up with later, because the way the evening had escalated felt almost absurd in retrospect. One moment Michael had been trailing after you everywhere you went, carrying drinks, accepting orders, allowing himself to be tugged through crowds by his ear whenever he drifted too far away from you. The next, you were standing beside him beneath the flashing lights, watching him laugh again at something one of your girlfriends said, and making a decision that surprised even you because usually you were much more.. tactful.
Maybe it was the way he’d spent the entire night looking at you or the fact that he’d never once complained. Maybe it was because every time you called his name, he appeared instantly.
Whatever the reason, you’d found yourself gliding up beside him as the night began winding down. Michael was midway through a conversation with Bill when you hooked a finger through the front of his shirt and pulled him down slightly.
He went without resistance.
Of course he did.
The music was still loud enough that nobody else could hear you as you leaned close, your lips brushing the shell of his ear.
“You’re coming home with me tonight.” You felt him go completely still. “Say bye bye to Bill and your people, ‘kay?”
For a moment, Michael simply stared at the floor and you watched the reaction spread down his neck. When he finally looked at you, there was something dazed in his expression, as though his brain had temporarily stopped functioning.
“Okay.” The answer came so fast you nearly laughed.
Not where?
Not why?
Not even a hesitant really?
Just: “Okay.”
You bit back a smile and wave at Bill as she glides away back to her table and Michael had barely managed three words of explanation before Bill figured it out.
Not that there had been much mystery to solve, the equation practically solved itself.
Bill sighed heavily. “You serious?”
Michael nodded. “Yeah.”
“She askin’ or tellin’?” Bill immediately had his answer when Michael coughed in response.
Michael looked down at the floor and Bill shook his head. “Son, one of these days you’re gonna have to stop jumpin’every time that woman points somewhere.”
Michael’s embarrassment deepened. “I don’t do that.”
The thing was, Bill liked you. You made Michael happy. You were good to him. You looked after him in your own way.
Bill had no objections there. His issue was the complete collapse of Michael’s spine whenever you entered the equation.
The boy had spent all evening following you around like he’d been hired for the job. “You know she already likes you, right?” Bill asked.
Michael blinked. “Huh?”
Bill rubbed his face. “She already likes you.”
Michael stared, the very suggestion seemed impossible to him. “But..”
Bill already knew where this was going. “But what?”
Michael shrugged awkwardly.
“She’s..”
“Pretty?” Michael nodded.
“Successful?” Another nod.
“Older than you?” A smaller nod.
Bill threw his hands in the air. “And?”
Michael didn’t answer, because that was the problem.
Somewhere deep down, Michael still couldn’t understand why someone like you would choose him when you could have anybody. Meanwhile, everyone around him had been forced to watch you practically drag him around a roller rink all evening.
Bill snorted. “Son, if you don’t quit feelin’ sorry for yourself."
Michael frowned. “I’m not..”
Bill laughed. “She got you fetchin’ drinks, carryin’ her stuff, followin’ her around, and lookin’ at her like she hung the moon.”
Michael buried his face in his hands.
You looked over your shoulder at him across the room, probably to see what was taking so long and the second Michael noticed, he straightened.
Bill caught it and a long, exhausted sigh followed.
Then he patted Michael’s shoulder. “Go on. Use protection.”
Michael sputtered. “You’re talkin’ dirty! I’m a gentleman.”
Bill shook his head. “You hopeless.”
The funny thing is Bill didn’t dislike the dynamic. He probably finds it adorable. He just spends a lot of the time trying, and failing, to convince Michael that being loved by a confident woman did not require acting like he’d been personally selected by royalty every single day. Michael, unfortunately, would continue acting exactly like that.
Because he loved bossy women.
You were beautiful—everyone knew that. It wasn’t exactly a revolutionary observation. People noticed when you walked into a room, they turned their heads and stumbled over conversations, found reasons to linger a little longer in your presence.
But Michael’s problem had long since surpassed simple attraction, because your pussy was the closest thing Michael thought he’d ever get to experiencing heaven while he was still on earth.
The thing about Michael was that he was sort of person who experienced affection through proximity. He liked sitting close enough for your shoulders to touch. He liked feeling your weight beside him on a couch. He liked the absent minded ways you occupied space, the little touches that seemed insignificant to everyone else but somehow lingered in his mind for days afterward.
The truth was that he never quite got used to you, even more so because you were the one to take his virginity.
Some people eventually acclimated to affection, they normalized it and over time, they came to expect it. Michael never seemed capable of doing that. Every act of intimacy, no matter how small, retained its ability to affect him. A hand on the back of his neck. Your fingers smoothing his collar. Your arm looping through his. Tiny gestures that should have become ordinary by now somehow remained extraordinary.
There’s unfortunately just a small part of him still couldn’t believe he was being chosen.
For Michael, intimacy was never something separate from affection. The two were hopelessly intertwined. Physical closeness carried an emotional weight that he couldn’t easily detach from which is why he’s so enamored with you. Where other people might eventually grow accustomed to being loved, Michael seemed determined to remain grateful for it. The familiarity never dulled his appreciation.
You’re no longer just the woman he has a crush on. You’re the person he trusted with something deeply personal. The person who guided him through an experience he had spent years imagining, worrying about, romanticizing, and building up in his head.
The irony is that it probably makes him less focused on sex itself and more focused on you.
Because afterward, what’s left isn’t necessarily the memory of the sex. It’s the memory of your kindness. Your patience. The way you looked at him during. The fact that you wanted him there with you. The feeling of being accepted completely, without performance or expectation.
For someone like Michael, that would be difficult to separate from love. Very difficult.
“Fuck, Michael,” You feel breathless, hands resting on his waist as you wrap your legs around his waist. Michael balances his weight above you, palms spread out on your soft bedding as you pull him closer with each thrust deeper into your pussy. Your pubic bones met with each movement, curly bushes intermingling and creating a friction. “That feel s’good, baby. Can’t believe you’re fuckin’ me this good..”
Michael’s face twists with a cute strain, his eyes squeeze shut so tightly his brows pinch. Every muscle in his body goes rigid as he fights the overwhelming to pump his nut inside of you. He can’t cum now. It’s too early, it’s way too soon. He can’t. He can’t. It’s barely been three minutes! But the filth spilling from your pretty lips in such a nasty tone makes his dick fucking throb and jerk against your tight walls. ”Lovey.. stop—stop.. stop talkin’ for a second..”
You know exactly what you’re doing, but you don’t mind. He’s been very generous with his mouth tonight and you can’t even count the amount of times you used his tongue to get off. Emphasis on you using his tongue, he’s eager to please but he still needs a little guidance. So, usually when he’s between your legs, you’re practically face fucking him. Hands in his curly coils to hold him in place as you roll your clit along his tongue.
Your heavy breasts bounce and sway with each sloppy thrust, jiggling provocatively under his straining chest. You reach up, soft palms cupping his tense cheeks, tenderly stroking his sweaty skin as you whisper.
“Look,” You tilt his face down, forcing him to look directly beneath the two of you—making him watch. “Look at that dick fucking your pussy, daddy.” He lets out a particularly pathetic whine as the nickname, you only use it to tease him but he seems to like it even though.. he’s not really the ”daddy” type. He watches as his slick, latex covered cock pushes relentlessly in and out of your pretty petaled pussy. The smooth wrapper makes his shaft glide effortlessly, pumping in and out as his dark skin contrasts against the lighter colored latex. Fuck, it’s pretty. All six inches of it.
“Who’s pussy is this? Let me know..” You grab his jaw, making him look at you as you gently runs a finger down his bottom lip to watch it pop back into place.
“It’s mine..” He whimpers out.
“Yeah? ’s all yours?” You smile, slipping her ring and middle finger into his mouth.
“Mhm..” He nods, closing his eyes again as he sucks on her fingers.
“Look at me, baby..” You say and he reluctantly does as he’s told. “I love watching you fuck me this good..” You look up at him with those big soft eyes, your expression melting into a breathtaking mix of pure adoration and overwhelming affection. Right now, there’s nothing dirty in your gaze now, only a deep, lovesick tenderness that reciprocates his same feelings for you—and it completely unravels him. Seeing you look at him with such.. love is his absolute undoing, shattering his control instantly.
Michael’s hips start to stutter and falter, his rhythm breaking as he approaches his high. His face contorts with distress, a mixture of pleasure and panic etched into his features.
“Oh—m’god..” He pants, his breath coming in ragged gasps. “Can’t.. that's gonna make me..”
“Make you what, angel face? Cum?” You smile.
“I can’t—I really can’t..” There’s really no warning.
Michael’s body suddenly goes rigid and his hips press deep as he buries himself completely inside you. His muscles tense and twitch as wave after wave of intense pleasure crashes over him, filling the condom with thick ropes of hot, sticky cum.
Michael collapses fully onto you, his strength completely spent as his body trembles uncontrollably. His hips continue to rut instinctively, pathetic little twitches driving his spent cock deeper into your warmth as he rides out the overwhelming aftershocks. His face buries into you shoulder, whimpering softly.
“Sorry.. sorry—felt too good..” There’s always a sense of shame that sits on his chest because since he’s been having sex, he’s been struggling with prematurely finishing. But you always tell him it’s not his fault when he brings it up hours later, his body has never known a woman until relatively recently. It just makes his body notoriously hypersensitive and prone to finishing too soon. It takes some time to build an endurance. But what he lacks in lasting, he makes up for with his refractory period which is seemingly nonexistent.
“ in which dangerous!michael captures you in a different light. ”
ᝰ word count: 539
.ᐟ warnings & disclaimers: lightly suggestive content, y/n has a camel toe, very light mj!perv vibes
✐ a/n: didn’t rlly care for this one. maybe u will :P
─ ⊹ ⊱ ⊰ ⊹ ─
michael’s warm and spacious kitchen was occupied by the two of you since he turned it into an impromptu photography studio. michael wore something “casual” today. his dark hair was styled into a sleek, wavy bob with a deep side part, a few wavy strands framing his chin. he wore a collared black button-down shirt adorned with rows of silver vertical rhinestones, matching black jeans neatly cinched with a leather black belt and his signature loafers.
clutched in his massive hands was his favorite camera. he was completely in his element. as a lifelong film lover, he took pictures and videos of you as much as possible, captivated by how photogenic you were. today, you raided his closet again, dressed in one of his oversized white button-down tops, one of his black fedoras tilted on your head, and a pair of white thigh-high socks.
you both were having sweet, innocent fun, laughing as you struck dramatic model poses against the marble countertops. michael moved around you like a serious photographer, capturing every second of you—candid and all. he was undoubtedly a more confident lover compared to his earlier years, carrying himself with more experience and maturity.
"do another one, y/n! jump up!" he cheered behind the lens as he lifts one of his hands up in the air to motion you to jump.
laughing, you jumped up to pose for another picture. but as your body left the ground, the hem of the oversized shirt rose up just a bit, giving michael an unexpected glimpse of your white cotton panties. you had a light camel toe. he assumed you were wearing shorts underneath, but the surprise caused his mouth to part slightly and something to stir in his fitted jeans. his finger instinctively pressed the shutter to take the picture. click.
instantly, his mood shifted. the playfulness evaporated. you didn’t notice right away, landing back on your feet and asking him in a happy, breathless tone,
"what pose should i do next, mike?"
his big eyes narrowed. his gaze dropped to your bare thighs before slowly rising back to your face.
"jump again but lift your arms all the way up in the air," he asked, this time his voice was flatter and deeper. he pushed a strand out from in front of his eyes.
you smiled, ready to do it, but you thought about it. your eyebrows furrowed slightly.
"but michael... if i do that, my panties are gonna show."
michael didn't say anything at first. instead, a small, knowing smirk formed on his reddish lips. he slightly tilted his head down, a gesture that made his dark, twinkly eyes look even more prominent.
you let out a surprised oh, your heart rate rapidly increasing and your ears growing hot. michael slowly bit his plush bottom lip, letting you see exactly what he was thinking.
you were still much shyer than he is, so the way he was suggestively staring flustered you immediately.
"right, okay," you whispered, completely pinned by his boldness.
you leaped into the air, arms raised high and giggled. the camera clicked, capturing the frame perfectly, but as your feet hit the wooden amber floor again, the sweet innocence of the afternoon was completely gone.
thank you all for the support and kindness you’ve given me in the time i’ve been here. it means a lot. it brings joy and giggles to read yall’s comments, thoughts, and opinions. there’s more to come guyths (,:
- summary: thriller!michael and reader's respective friends bailed on them at the cinemas without warning. reader spends the rest of the spooky halloween night with a guy she barely knows... but at least he's funny. and real cute.
* NOT thriller era mike btw, it's thriller michael as in,, the character he plays on the thriller short film itself :) WE'RE IN THE MICHAELVERSE!
word count: 5.3k
warning: again, we're in the michaelversee??? let's go!!, just first meeting and a bunch of fluff ensues, woman tries writing comedy for the second time, mentions of ola ray, but again this is INSIDE the thriller short film, but it's NOT horror... I'm not talented enough for that , RUSHEDD AND SHORT, a whole bunch of nothing happens
* no usage of y/n, michael refers to reader as 'girl' mostly
author's note: OKAY so at this point you guys probably know Thriller Mike is my favourite, of course we love all eras but I think this particular one is a soft spot for all of us tbh. And this is rushed, SOO sorry about that. I hope you like it though, it's just been in my head for a while.
I was watching A Different World, and I yearn for a college-type Mike and I thought who is best fitting for that kind of thing if not Thriller MV Michael? And truth be told guys, I watched it when I was five and he was actually my first childhood crush and the first celebrity loml. It goes full circle!! Trust!!
+++ not really proofread, SORRY
+++ english isn't my first language! and sorry for the mix of british and american spellings, i am NOT a professional writer by any means! but hope you enjoy!
Halloween nights have always been your favourite time of the year. Growing up, you knew you had the advantages of being a child to grab as much candy as you could from soft-hearted adults. From dressing like Snow White to Bride of Frankenstein, they were going to eat out of the palm of your hand. As you get older, though, you discover those nights really were made for children and somehow it’s not cute anymore for you to knock on some stranger’s door and beg for candy.
You never really got over that.
But you continue on. Halloween for high schoolers was more of a ‘secret party in Kevin’s basement with scary movies in the background’ and little commemoration for the occasion itself. Halloween in your twenties though? It could range from formal Halloween parties held by your married coworker, or a movie night with yourself, cuddled with a blanket and candy – that you had to sadly purchase yourself, as well. This year, though, a third thing made its way into your list of options.
Accompanying your friend to a date with a random man she met last week, at the cinema. Your initial reaction when she asked was pure, immediate and resounding ‘No!’ but Ola has her way of getting things her way, especially when it comes to you. She had an effort to persuade and comfort you, stating that you wouldn’t be a third wheel. Her guy would bring his friend, as well.
That led to another pure, immediate and resounding ‘No!’.
You have no idea what happened afterwards, but regret is already consuming your whole being as you tap your foot on the ground impatiently, looking at the time.
Standing outside the cinema building.
Another sigh escapes you, looking for any sign of your friend. Halloween III is supposed to start in about five minutes, and you could see from outside that the concession stand queue is getting long. You desperately need that popcorn to get through this unwilling double date. Where the heck is Ola?
“I’m here, I’m here!” A soft voice calls out from behind, making you turn around to face the sound with a roll of your eyes. Ola comes running into your sight, dressed in denim, looking as pretty as ever for her little date. You cross your arms to your chest, exaggeratingly holding out your wrist, waving the watch you’re wearing in front of her face.
“Ten minutes! Ten minutes I’ve been waiting on you, Ola,” you scold her, frowning in displease. She scoffs and pushes your wrist away, grinning sheepishly. “Sorry, girl. I had to make sure I look as good as he does, you know?”
You shake your head, with a click of the tongue. “Your guys are running late too, you know? God, what's keeping them?”
“You think he's nervous like me?” Ola asks you, whispering through her excitement. Grinning as she repeatedly nudges your arm. You could only laugh and lightly slap her shoulder before a man clears his throat behind you.
“Hey, Ola.”
Turning around, you're met with two… completely different men. One was Ola’s date, dressed in a blazer jacket with dark denim jeans, his hair gelled almost a little too much and his charming dimple was out on full display. His friend, however…
You suppose he does look cute. Well, more than cute. He's downright gorgeous. His eyes are sharp yet softly flicking between you and Ola, his smile subtle, as if he knows what you're thinking yet he's trying to hide that smugness. He probably is. Nobody is that good looking and isn't aware of it at least a little. And you want to thank the universe for blessing him with those curls… You think he's one of the most beautiful men you've ever seen in your entire life. The thoughts die down though, as your eyes gaze down to his outfit.
It's very… vibrant.
Striking for sure. Candy-red leather jacket with two black lines with a downwards slope meeting in the middle. Coloured pants matching the jacket. He holds himself in a relaxed way, nodding in acknowledgement as his eyes meet yours properly for the first time.
“Sorry for being late,” Jimmy, Ola’s date, says with an apologetic tone. He motions towards his friend, eyes rolling good-naturedly. “You'd think he's the one going on a date. He took an extra five minutes when I told him it was time to go.”
The friend chuckles, his eyes flitting to the ground, coming back up to meet your gaze briefly before pushing on Jimmy's back. “I'm sorry that you don't know how to look fly, Jim.”
Jimmy only responds with a sarcastic laugh before looking at you both again, “Ladies, this is Michael.”
You nod with a small smile, introducing yourself right back. Ola and Jimmy immediately drift towards each other, walking into the cinema, completely forgetting the rest of the world. You're left with Michael, and the both of you have never looked so offended.
The man in front of you scoffs, shaking his head. “Just leave like that, see if I care.” His eyes flick back to your direction, a polite smile growing onto his face. “Shall we?”
“We shall,” you reply with a soft laugh before adding, “Nice get-up, by the way.”
He looks down at his figure before giving you an award-winning grin, “Hey, thank you, I know. Somethin’, isn't it? Might as well dress up if you're goin' somewhere.”
You nod and laugh a little more, and you confirm silently to yourself that this man is quite smug.
Both of you walk into the building, slowly catching up to Ola and Jimmy. They're in line for the snacks, so you and Michael wait for them at the end of the hall. It’s a not so comfortable silence so you look around the place, wanting to know how many candles they'd put out for the Halloween decorations. You decide to count it silently, wishing so much you were back in bed rewatching horror movies.
The silence is broken by the time you reach a sixth candle next to the toilet. Michael clears his throat, “You look beautiful yourself too, by the way.”
Your eyes widen very briefly before a pathetic, “Oh,” leaves your mouth. “Oh, thanks… I didn't really try. Just a casual night for me. Now, I feel like I'm very underdressed.” An embarrassed smile paints itself on your face.
“Nah, the one who's underdressed is Jimmy,” he says with a judgemental shake of his head, clicking his tongue, “I told him to hold back on that gel, now he just looks like a schmuck.”
A laugh leaves your lips without your permission and you hold back a snort, “Oh good, I thought I was the only one. I'm sorry, I know he's your friend–”
“–friend or no friend, he's looking like a straight up tool,” Michael shrugs, grin widening at the sound of your laughter. He likes hearing it. He likes hearing it a lot. As a matter of fact, he likes looking at you too.
A little too much, if you ask him.
The first time he set his eyes on you, he immediately wished the night was intended to actually be a double date. If he says you weren't one of the prettiest girls he'd ever seen, he'd be lying to himself and cursing the universe with such a sin.
You give a teasing grin, “So, you're a jokester. What are you doing here on Halloween night?”
“I owed Jimmy,” he casually replies, “He kinda saved me from gettin’ hit by a car.”
“Wha– really?” You ask with raised brows.
He shakes his head, not a twitch on his face as he looks at the couple walking towards them, “Not really, I'm just playing.”
A beat of silence passes and you look at him with the most blank face you can muster, and that makes him snort out a laughter. He gently holds onto your shoulder, his face scrunched up from trying to hold back on his chuckles. “I'm sorry, I joke too much. I know, girl.”
“Uh-huh…” you trail off and swat at his arm, shaking your head in amusement. “For someone I don't really know, you sure aren't shy. And your jokes aren't that good.”
He tilts his head, his eyes staring into yours, ignoring the slight about his joking expertise. “I can be shy.”
Good God, nobody who's shy would make eye contact like that. You almost have to look away from the intensity of his gaze. His eyes are so captivating. Practically pulls you in.
You need to snap out of it, for sure.
“We got the food, c’mon now!” Ola says as she tugs your arm, heading to the theatre hall.
•
It's in the halfway point of the movie when you look to your left and that damned Ola and Jimmy are flat out gone. Like, absolutely gone and missing from the premises. When did they even leave? And how come you didn't notice?
Your jaw drops at the thought of their audacity and you silently stare at Michael, who's enjoying his popcorn and eyes glued onto the big screen. Reaching over the two vacant seats and poking his arm, you're met with his confused stare.
“Where'd they go?” You mouth at him, motioning towards the empty spaces. He looks to where you're gesturing and his face that was contorted into confusion immediately fell to bafflement. He shrugs exaggeratingly, mouthing back. He doesn't know.
Both of you shake your head in mutual disappointment and disbelief. They just up and bailed, the nerve. Michael gets up from his seat and moves down to the one next to you, the one that was supposed to be Ola’s. He leans over and whispers to your ear in a low tone, “Let's just finish the movie. I wanna know what'll happen to her.”
Nodding in agreement, you struggle to ignore the feelings swirling in your gut. Why did his voice sound so melodious? He was merely whispering, for goodness sake.
You're going crazy.
•
After the movie ends, Michael and you walk out the theatre hall, trying to find any glimpse of the couple. With no such luck, you sigh and head outside.
“Hey, where are you going?”
You turn to look at Michael in surprise, suddenly shy. “Oh, well I figured they're not gonna turn up anytime soon. I was ready to go home.”
Michael raises his brows, “So soon. Why? Am I too boring for you?” He asks with a soft chuckle, stopping right in front of you.
You push at him gently, grinning in response. “No… I just thought you probably have a better idea on how to spend the rest of the night instead of hanging with a stranger.”
“I do,” he nods, his eyes staring back at yours. “I'm hanging with you.”
Warmth spreads to your cheeks and you let out a scoff to ignore it, “You think you're real slick.”
Michael shrugs and shoves his hands in his pockets, gleaming. “I know your name. I know you're Ola’s friend. That's not a stranger in my books, is it in yours?”
“Maybe. You don't need to know,” you softly tease.
He chuckles and nods, “Right. That's a shame. Guess we'll have to fix that, huh? Come on, walk with me. Night is still young.”
“Where are we going?” Curiosity laces your voice.
“We'll see where we end up,” Michael easily shrugs as he answers. “That’s the fun of it.”
He pauses before looking at you earnestly, so sudden that you're taken aback. “Don't worry, I'm not a creep or anything. I'm not forcin’ you.”
“I want to,” you blurt out.
Embarrassment rushes to your face as Michael quietly looks at you with an ever-growing grin on his face.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah, where are we heading?” You ask hurriedly, walking ahead of him. Michael stays a little behind, chuckling to himself and staring after you.
“We’re gonna walk to find out, girl,” he says in response, “Do you have a curfew? I'll take you home when it's time.”
You try shaking your head, “Oh, no, please you don't have to.”
He only nods his head in an exaggerated manner, his eyes narrowing. “Oh, yes I have to. Don't be silly. But we'll get to it when we get to it. I think I know what we're doing first.”
“What are we doing?”
He gives you a smile that could bring back people from the dead, you think. A smile that can kill, but also can bring things back to life. “How annoyed do you think people would be if they have two twenty-somethings at their doorstep asking for candy?”
•
You don't really have a clue on how you ended up here, standing at the doorstep of a stranger’s house, with a sad cat-eared headband and a roughly drawn set of whiskers on your face.
It took him a while to convince you for that one.
•
“I'm not doing that.”
“I promise, girl, it's safe.”
“How would you know?”
“I did it all the time when I was younger!”
“I'm not gonna use a damn Sharpie on my cheeks, Michael!”
“It'll complete the costume!”
“It's not a costume if it's just one, single headband!”
“It is with the Sharpie whiskers, now come on and don't be stubborn,” Michael says before hurriedly trying to draw on your cheeks. You squeal and try to get away but his arm around your shoulder is firm, and you tilt your head as far away as you could to avoid his doodling, both of you laughing in the back of the costume shop.
“Where's your Halloween spirit?” he laughs loudly, struggling to poke the Sharpie on your cheek.
You try turning away, his arm shifting to wrap around your waist as the childish giggles escape from the both of you.
“My Halloween spirit is alive and well, thanks! It's also sensing an irrational adult is nearby,” you try distracting him, trying to slink out of his grasp. He only tightens and chuckles heartily next to your temple.
“Come on, please? I promise, I'll look just as dumb as you do,” he persuades.
You laugh harder and roughly poke his arm that was around your waist. “What a great way to convince me. The only thing I want in life is to look dumb around town with a guy I just met tonight.”
“Hah, see?” Michael smoothly responds, his grip lingering, still gazing from behind you as you hold the stare with an exasperated smile. “I knew you'd cave. As expected, when I look this good.”
You throw your head back in laughter, subconsciously leaning against Michael before snapping out of it immediately. You shift away, almost abruptly.
“Yeah, yeah,” you clear your throat. Softly nudging his face, “Let's check out before you find some more dumb stuff like a mustache or something… and give the Sharpie back to the cashier!”
•
“What are you doing?” You whisper yell at Michael, who is currently, for reasons unbeknownst to you, hiding behind the bushes.
Rustling in the bushes follows, with Michael's distracted voice calling out from behind it. “Just keep at it, I'm doing somethin’ here.”
*I'm not the one who thought of this, why would I do it first?” You exclaim in horror, feet ready to run right out of there, Michael be damned.
“C’mon girl, I know what I'm doing!”
A quiet groan leaves your lips, eyes flicking back to the doorbell. You’re not completely sure why you’re listening to him, and you’re not completely sure either why you’re still hanging out with him at this point. Something about Michael just gets you doing things you won’t normally do. Exhibit A; your damn Sharpie whiskers. Taking a deep breath, you press on the doorbell. Just how you and Michael practiced.
Not much later, the door opens to reveal an older man holding a cup of tea, clad in pajamas. He looks at you warily, raising a brow in question. Eyes brimming with curiosity. “Can I help you?”
You clear your throat and give a bright grin to the man. “Hi, mister. Are you having a happy Halloween?”
The older man’s eyes widened before narrowing, flickering from side to side. “Uh-huh… look, I’m not really a religious type of guy, y’know? So, why don’t you go on ahead and—”
“Oh, no! No, uh, I was just wondering if—”
Right in the middle of your sentence, a figure jumps out from the bushes with the weirdest snarling sound ever, dressed in Michael's red outfit with… a head of an insanely realistic werewolf.
“Blargh!” A gruff voice is heard from through the mask.
The older man almost squeaks, dropping his cup of tea as he flinches backwards with his hand on his chest. “Good God!”
You think Michael's laughter can be heard throughout the neighborhood, but nobody can really be mad at a sound so dang beautiful. He keeps laughing as he takes off the werewolf head, crouching and cackling.
“Damn you, Mike!” The older man exclaims with disdain. “Every damn year you do this!”
Your eyes widen, turning to stare at Michael– who's still trying to catch his breath, by the way– and try to speak without laughing, “What did he just say?”
Michael almost giggles as he regains his posture, looking at you with a gleam in his eyes. “I do this every Halloween. He never not answers the door, it kills me how easy it always is!”
“You're not gettin’ me anymore, Mike, I'm tellin’ you!” The older man huffs in frustration, flicking his gaze to you. “He's trying to scare me out of this town, with the way he's acting! He got me trippin’ out of my porch last year, and he only helped after a full minute of laughing, mind you!”
The man in question who is currently standing next to you starts cackling again, and so do you when you notice the older man doesn't possess any genuine anger towards the both of you. The thought of you two laughing like lunatics as the man stares blankly at Michael's direction makes you lose it a whole lot more.
As you try to calm your laughter, the older man's eyes flick at you up and down. He snorts lightly, picking up the dropped cup of tea, –thank goodness it was a plastic one – and a smirk teases the edge of his lips.
“Sorry for dismissing a lovely girl such as yourself earlier. Forgive me?”
You momentarily freeze, and Michael stops his laughing. A nervous smile forces its way onto your face, “No, no, it’s fine.”
The man shakes his head, “No, it was my bad. Now, what's a pretty girl like you doin’ something this silly on a Halloween night, hm?”
You try to hide your grimace, thinking of how to respond when Michael stands up straighter and clears his throat. “Not too much on her now, Vic.”
Wrapping his arm around the back of your shoulder, he roughly punches the other man’s chest, grinning smugly. “See ya next year, huh?”
Both of you turn around to walk down the porch steps, Michael seemingly urging you to walk faster. You didn't even get to say goodbye to the other man, but that's not really necessary in this context.
With his arm still wrapped around you, Michael says quietly, “Sorry if he made you uncomfortable, he's stupid a lot of the time.”
“Oh,” you look at him in surprise, “That's fine. I wasn't… it's not anything anyway. But thank you, Michael.”
He shrugs, smiling widely at you the next second. “That was neat, huh? Did I scare you too?”
You throw your head back in laughter at the reminder of the situation earlier. “I wasn't! I knew you were up to something but… but not that! When did you even get this werewolf head? I was with you the whole time, wasn't I?”
Michael tsked, shaking his head in mock sympathy. When he pulls away to put his hands on his hips, one of them holding the said costume head, the only thing you're bothered by is the fact that the warmth of his arm left your shoulder to the cold. “Oh, girl, this isn't a werewolf. It's a werecat!”
“Oh, how would you know!”
“I know!” he exclaims, laughing at your fast response. “See, you can see it here… feline features… The muzzle is shorter and more flat. The eye shape is more cat-like too.”
You nod as you listen to him explain, carefully looking at where he was pointing. He's right. It doesn't look much like a costume werewolf, actually. The eyes are much smaller. Feline.
“Oh yeah, that wouldn't do much. Your doe eyes can be seen from miles away,” the words leave your lips without you realizing, still focused on the fake werecat head.
A beat of silence before Michael's slack jaw fixes itself and a sheepish grin appears on his face. A soft voice, “What did you say?”
When you realize what just happened, your eyes widen and your heart basically stops. Why on Earth would you say that out loud? Shaking your head, you wave your hand away.
“Nothing,” you clear your throat, trying to change the subject. “You didn't even answer my question yet! How'd you get the werecat head?” A dramatic gasp leaves you, “You didn't steal this?”
He looks at you with an offended facial expression. “No, I didn't! I wouldn't.”
A laugh leaves you, “I know, I'm joking.”
“Okay well… You were with me for most of the time… and then you got distracted with the Yoda masks next to the register when we were checkin’ out,” he snickers thoughtfully, “And luckily I knew that was gonna happen… before we even went to pay I already stuffed the head inside my jacket.”
“You sneak! How did you even fit the giant head in that jacket of yours?” You ask absentmindedly, eyes narrowing at the jacket itself, and the possibility you deem is little to none. Then your mind clicks and you look at him with a slightly parted mouth, “How did you know I'd get distracted with the Yoda masks?”
“They were glow-in-the-dark! I was distracted from the moment we stepped in!” Michael exclaims, his eyes twinkling with humour.
Laughs echo through the dark and narrow street. You find yourself unbothered with the shadows and the mists of the night, feeling peace unlike any other as you shift closer to him. He boldly responds by inching his hand closer to yours and grip it firmly. But when you look up at him, all you see is a smile of sunshine and eyes filled with wonder.
“What do you want to do next?” He asks you, swinging your intertwined hands back and forth as you walk down the street.
You chuckle at his antics, “Well, what are you thinking?”
He hums in thought, gripping your hand tighter. “I'm thinkin’... We oughta get some grub. What are you feeling like?”
“Something oily and unhealthy sounds really good right now.”
A laugh escapes him, “Then we're on the same page. There's that diner around the corner, you ever been?”
“Oh!” You grab onto his arm, suddenly urging him to walk faster. “Yes! They have the best curly fries. And the blondie is to die for.”
Michael only chuckles as you lead him down the street, eyes gazing at the back of your head and drifting to the grip you had on his arm. He shifts your hand to his again, intertwining like before. Of all the things he'd expect to happen tonight, the last thing was getting to find himself a pretty girl to hold hands with.
Gosh, it's like he's back in grade school.
“Who are you running from? Slow down,” he chortles. You only respond with a sheepish grin before pacing yourself, swinging your hand in his.
•
The diner has you sitting in the corner booth with Michael right in front of you, burgers and wings having already been demolished not even ten minutes after they were set on top of the table. You take a fry from his plate as he retells stories of scaring the ‘Vic’ guy, laughing breathlessly.
“And then he just got out of the pool and tried to chase me out, but the thing was, I already left for the bash next door! The poor schmuck just stood in the middle of the street, drenched from head to toe, without a goal in sight. Hah!” Michael cackles, sipping on his milkshake afterwards.
“Okay, okay… just tell me. Why do you bother that guy so much? What's he done to you?” You ask him, trying to control your laughter.
Michael leans back in his seat, smile turning into a soft smirk, shrugging, “Dude cheated on my sister, continuously throughout their dating course. It was a solid year of me torturing the guy, and then my sister ended up on good terms with him, so the torture just grew milder and less… dangerous.”
Eyes looking deeply into his, your lips tilt up at the edge. “So you're just doing it for the love of the game now?”
He grins again, “Love for my sis and now love for the game, that's right.”
“Boy,” you snort, “I'm sure he's regretting his mistakes every single day, huh?”
“Well, he should,” Michael clicks his tongue, “I never did like him. He went around too much and stayed around far less.”
You tilt your head in question, “He doesn't seem to hate you though.”
“That's just the Michael effect. Nobody knows how to hate me.”
You stare at him in bewilderment, shaking your head. How does one obtain such self-assurance? And by looking at him innocently sipping from your milkshake, it didn't seem like he was joking. He genuinely thinks everyone likes him.
And damn it, he's probably not even wrong.
“Hey, you have your own!” You scold, pulling your milkshake glass out of his vicinity, his puckered lips chasing after the straw. He guffaws, brows furrowing in disbelief.
“You took my fries!”
“Well, you weren't eating them fast enough!”
“Fast enou– okay, okay. Give me that milkshake, baby, we'll switch, how about that?”
“Uh-uh,” you shake your head, the affectionate name he calls you did not go unnoticed. But the blushing is ignored as you add, “I'll stick with my delicious strawberry while you can go ahead with your vanilla.”
“You're the reason why chivalry is dead, y’know?”
“Oh, I'm the reason?”
“Yeah,” he laughs as you reach and push at his chest. Taking your hand, Michael places it on the table as he covers it with his hand. You both smile as you sip on the milkshake, eyes gleaming with something new.
•
After much arguing and persuasion, Michael walks you to your house, chattering all the way there. At this point, you had your arm wrapped around his. You didn't think you're this type of person who's desperate for affection from a man you only just met hours prior, but then again, tonight's been full of surprises.
“Where do you think Ola and Jimmy are?” You ask him, wondering aloud.
Michael shrugs, “Probably somewhere funky, knowing Jim. Probably tryin’ to get hair gel out of his fingers.”
You let out a laughter of shock, “I don't believe you! He's your friend, Mike.”
He looks at you, defensive. “And I stand by what I said!”
A giggle escapes you again, quieting down when your eyes set on the familiar front porch steps. Clearing your throat, you look at Michael with a soft gaze. “That's me.”
Michael slows down, lips shaping an ‘O’ before looking back at you with a small smile. “Darn,” he says quietly, “I was hoping for it to be further.”
“We've been walking for a good twenty minutes,” you laugh.
He shakes his head, tucking your hair behind your ear. “Well, an extra ten with you couldn't hurt me one bit, I'll tell you that much.”
Ignoring the heat flooding your cheeks, your eyes roll at his words. “Real slick.”
“I know,” he smugly grins before laughing as he shifts closer. Gripping both your hands in his, he gazes at you fondly.
“I had a really good time tonight. It's been a while since I've met someone so fun.”
“Oh, psh… you're friends with Jimmy. I'm sure you and Gel-Head have all the fun in the world,” You joke, heart warming at his wide grin. Laughing uncontrollably, he shakes his head and pulls you into a hug.
“Boy, am I glad that he forced me to come. I got to hang out with the prettiest girl for a whole night. And she laughed at my jokes,” Michael says as he pulls away slightly to rest his forehead on yours.
You smile and close your eyes fondly, “And I got to hang out with a not so bad looking stranger, too. And he's really, really funny.”
“Oh lucky you,” he murmurs softly, gaze flickering down to your lips before he smiles sheepishly.
“Mhm, lucky us,” you reply, voice just as soft. It's a quiet few seconds of you both just staring into each other's eyes before Michael swallows.
“I kind of want to kiss you goodbye, is that okay?”
You blank for a second, heartbeat thundering under the skin of your chest, and all you manage to do is nod. And that nod is all that Michael needs.
He leans in, slowly to make sure you have time to change your mind, and after receiving zero signals of such a thing happening, he closes the distance and presses his lips against yours.
His arms wrap around the back of your waist as you wrap yours around the back of his neck. Leaning up on your tiptoes, he dips his head down further to deepen the kiss. Lips caressing, soft breaths mingling before he softly parts your lips with his tongue.
A soft sigh escapes you, zoning out and only focusing on the feeling of his warm mouth against yours, tongues gliding. His fingers slowly stroke up your back and rests on the back of your head, lightly tugging your hair as he bends you during the kiss. God bless whoever taught this man how to do this.
The kiss ends slowly, your eyes still closed, mind still foggy as he pecks your lips one, two and three more times before pulling away completely. Michael's grip on your waist tightens and his eyes are hazy with feeling when he notices your dazed state.
“Okay?” He murmurs as he kisses your cheek, softly stroking it with his thumb.
You could only nod, humming in response. Still trying to center yourself.
Another breathtaking grin of his makes your heart lurch, and he takes your hand and kisses the back of it.
“I'll call you tomorrow?”
“Yes,” you finally breathe out. “Please do.”
He almost giggles and leans in to kiss your lips again, this time more brief but just as passionately. “Can't wait.”
Michael urges you to go inside, he wouldn't move an inch until he sees so. Looking back multiple times on your way to the front door with a shy smile on your face, all you see is his face absolutely gleaming.
Bidding a final goodbye, you slowly close the door after waving at him for a full ten seconds. Falling back against the door, you exhale shakily. Giggling to yourself, you thank the universe he's not there to see you outright acting like a fool because of him.
What you don't know, however, is that Michael is currently walking away from your house, jumping and whooping silently to himself, even more foolishly than you. Whistling as he twirls the werecat head around his hand, he's thinking of all the lines he'd say into the telephone once tomorrow arrives.
And this is why Halloween has become his favourite time of the year, too.
defending michael on internet isn’t enough, i need a gun.
fuck netflix and fuck all of you guys who are abandoning mike after this nasty documentary.
netflix isn’t innocent! after the biopic was released, everyone now wants to have a piece of michael to profit, he’s INNOCENT, everyone already knows and coming back and talking about these accusations years later and making a documentary about it is ridiculous, disrespectful and disgusting! worse, releasing this doc in JUNE.
Michael didn't deserve and doesn't deserve to go through this, let him rest in peace, he's already suffered a lot here on earth. May God bless him and may the world be a better place.
