nette

alot of ppls wife ,, keep it in the closet.

[ohapplehead]

ਏਓ  ᶦᶠ ᶦ ᶜᵒᵘˡᵈ ᵗʳᵃᵛᵉˡ ᵗʰʳᵒᵘᵍʰ ᵗᶦᵐᵉ. ᶦ ᵗʰᶦⁿᵏ ᶦ'ᵈ… ᵗᵉˡˡ ᵐʸˢᵉˡᶠ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ᵗʰᵉ ᵖᵃˢᵗ… ✧    ⋅    ˚    ₊    ‧   ᰔᩚ   ʸᵒᵘ'ˡˡ   ᵇᵉ   ᶠᶦⁿᵉ.  ⌢

ᰔᩚ   ⁿᵃᵛⁱᵍᵃᵗⁱᵒⁿ  ⌢ ᵃᵇᵗ ᵐᵉ ᵐᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡⁱˢᵗ ᶠⁱᶜˢ

ʷˡᶠᶜʰᵃⁿⁿᶦᵉᶻ © — ᵉˢᵗ. ²⁰²⁵ ᵖˡˢ ᵈᵒⁿᵗ ᶜᵒᵖʸ, ᵗʳᵃⁿˢˡᵃᵗᵉ, ᵒʳ ʳᵉᵖᵒˢᵗ ᵐʸ ʷᵒʳᵏˢ ᵒⁿ ᵒᵗʰᵉʳ ᵖˡᵃᵗᶠᵒʳᵐˢ ! ᴱˢᴾ ᵂᴬᵀᵀᴾᴬᴰ.

[puppyms]

1hanyou + 찰떡 + hanhanji for @bad-love

[prettyangeliczz]

FUCK A WANT, I NEED THAT ONE.

[pierrotdoesnteat]

positivity train!

if you see this or are tagged in it, tag a couple of your favorite mutuals/blogs and let them know you appreciate seeing them on your dash!

@h0neysugarfree @blueberrylovv @bequiteanddriveeeeeee @cherri-bomb-bomb @eg0mechan1c @fatrexicisback

[normanscupcake]

Thxx, @gingermatchalatte 🫶💕💕

@bubblepeep @strawberrycherrycola @l0ngdog @wintersldier @coconutprincesspassion @xoxycodonex @kwatzaya @fawnzquee @ilegalyungjaws @pinkcottonberry @angeldel-rey

There are so many more moots to this list, just know I love ya all 😭🙏💕🫶

[strawberrycherrycola]

Thank you sm! @normanscupcake 💋💗

@popecodysgirl @sleepingbeautiiies @cuti3-81 @andrewpuppycody @jackabbotsarms @sabrinajamesluvbot @princessofphiladelphia @babystrwberry

There’s more to this list but these blogs come to mind!! 🪽💘

[popecodysgirl]

tysm for the tag @strawberrycherrycola ily mwah 😘🫶

@shoniebalognie @robinavitchslut @ceriseangels @mariasont @whatif-ialreadydid @lostalioth @mast3rbait3r @mahoganybimbo @romantic-insomniac @atlaslapis @mysatnin @lanadelreyylover @baransdollie @neverendingdreamers @tanely @80sfilmclub @lavenderchaise @iheartshawn @wistfulyears @in-ky

i'm probably missing some moots but i love you all so much!!! you're the best 🫶

[mast3rbait3r]

thank you for the tag, baby <3 @popecodysgirl

my loves :3

@whitakersbabymama @in-ky @romantic-insomniac @nightpitt @yuyuch3rry @neverendingdreamers @m4mm4ls @theariespov @baransdollie @mariasont @di1fluvr @honimoon @froggyzworld @dirtygir1 @wistfulyears @grimgasm @groovyangelkisses @sunbonesss

[groovyangelkisses]

thank you for the tag angel, mwah!💋 — @mast3rbait3r

a few cuties that i looveee seeing on my dash—

@romantic-insomniac @in-ky @nightpitt @mochapuppy @ceriseangels @j4ckr4bbits @lovaeir @moodyabbott @lipsliketangerines @dollsonlyhurt @cherrywineisawaltz @sugartalkingwrites @lostalioth @missmanlykink @misspossexxive 😽

[missmanlykink]

awww thanks for the tag <33 — @groovyangelkisses

some of my fav writers and moots 💕 love u guyss:

@mayhemi @s4ngel @str4wbsstuff @deansdeer @j4ckr4bbits @ccandlehead @murdrdocs @hanasnx @midniqhtt @wistfulyears @pittsick @pinksplace @avashifts06 @kill3ill @kryptidfiles @kissophile @dirtygir1

[deansdeer]

aww ty aydellaa <3 smooches

I love seeing yall on my feed

@beausling @inbred-eater @slashedgutz @d3ad-aliv3 @filthgf @honeyroots @scariffs @basicasfusername @bleachedduck @yyvnille @bitemysin @bunnyyrot @bruisedfig

[beausling]

AHHH EHEHEHEHEHE THANK YOUUU SMM MY BELOVEDDDSS @deansdeer & @lostalioth for the tags🫂🫂

some more of my beloveds n fave ppl to see on my feed/in my notifs 😽💟

꩜ meow meows : @abbotsbunnygf @arkhamknightmares @badbish-suki @beecomingnothing @bleachedduck @bluestrd @bruisedfig @catmg @chevroletdean @cosmicbucky @cowboycastles @crystalcider @cryptic-doe @diner-girl @faiszt @floralscented @funkycoloured @g0thamgirl @honeyryewhiskey @honeyroots @inbred-eater @irisgrrl @jasvtsc @jackcody @kill3ill @mystic-writings @notaviolentdog @pittsick @plasticflowersinahistorycemetery @psychsworld @rh1nestcned @rockerbarnes @rottndeer @sacr1ficialang3l @soldiersgirl @thefourhorsies @thesevnthseal @tortureddarkstar @voidsuites @wildwestdean @xoabbot @6milesdeep

nearly maxed out tags cus i’m crazy and just have so much love in my heart i wanted to tag everyone but i had to condense so i’m sorry if i missed anyone also but just know i love you all so bad

also a lot of you i haven’t interacted with in a long time and i feel bad abt that🙁 and some ppl that i tagged haven’t even been active since last year or longer like omg pls come back soon i miss you guys 😣😣

[irisgrrl]

OMG THANK YOU SM BABY I MISS INTERACTING WITH YOU TOO<\3

my most favourite people here🙂‍↕️: @cherryvvave @moviecritc @bloomcissa @cryptic-doe @rh1nestcned @lechelovestoyap @luviery @vianawaits @scissorhvnds @dreamersentity @kamislop @batwngs @sakunai @mystiquevoid @1nsignia @patientofarkhamasylum @arfemiz @froggibus @tinafication @bitemysin @torupng @brinawing @biovomit @evilmanhater @gr0und-zer00 (i'm sorry if i didn't tag someone, but know that you're very dear to me too<3)

i feel like i don't say it enough, but i love you all, and y'all are very very dear to me. here on tumblr i found the community i feel sort of belonging to and with who i have experienced peak girlhood♥️

[kamislop]

GAH STOP THIS IS SO SWEET siri how do i tag all of my 150+ mutuals-

i'm going to tag some of my babygirls and if i miss some PLEASE DON'T TAKE IT PERSONALLY i love and cherish all my lovely mooties :( even if we don't interact much

mi babygirls: @jeanmarcosno1, @ie4ri, @tentypos, @gfsuki, @cupidkats, @riotsgrl, @tokkushin, @updownandbatty, @lonelyfooryouonly, @liahcharms, @lilithkleia, @6x-x9, @kireampie, @hangenism, @rengoatku, @fushihearts, @moviecritc, @mamashima, @indisuki, @dulcores, @miminist, @gyarujo, @valberryboos, @suganoms, @da1ntyli1ly, @sugurusplaything, @satorusdreamer, @torumaii, @toruii, @kenforty, @dynamite-roll, @freakynad, @blushryo, @talkingscaresme, @deathscheduled, @txmxkis, @ervvinz, @lxnarphase, @jiyuspassion, @foryuiwill

[6x-x9]

ah and I can't tag everyone, thanks so much cutie <3. I love everyone of you's

@tycrine @yummidumplingss @/cttelina @/kill4ill @/barbatoswh0r3 @/0celotmilk @liahcharms @mimimochis @rengoatku @astriiixx @jiyuspassion @/mainstarv @megumisrighttoe @satorusdollie @oropotheca @/yaliuxe @louistxq @/cateleya21 @fayelero @daflex @/yxo7 @/paperellina @/sadisticslut666 @/an9els @/da1ntyli1ly @ouist @/cupidstrace @oksukuna @hanawoof @foryuiwil @/splurtz @httpskrys @notsoslightlysexual @stqrgumi @satolune @honeyoftheisle @xchosos-wifex @caramelluxe @satorus-princess @jazzthatonewriterchick @kamoslover @gyalcapone @moviecritc @keistriction @/princess-rueee @/rambld @sugurusplaything @sugurusbeloved @/teaspecifically @/gyarujo @togesbabe @s-uwu-kuna @/casualnightmaretragedy @/himboelover @/megum1sstepm0m-blog @/booboobear-12 @yorikae @yoonsucks @hangenism @valberryboos @kireampie @paninsoup @revolvingsaturn @ryoride @/butterbeanandsparkleface @lilithkleia @/kamislop @macbethinchains @tokkushin @torumaii @toruii @bearlovestea @/noitoii @lostinsmut @serpenttine @/sextier @blu-goingdark @satomiu @/xoxonahyo @bloomflix @pillsatoru @alexynthia @tojidihcheese @shiruigami @sozila @tigerpetals @/madamechrissy @frostedpinkdoll @eraserbread @atelphobist @t0jisbunny @onyxiix @feyrinnn @sukunahs @satoriee @sky-lemonade @flvvffy

[moviecritc]

ahhhhh thank you all for tagging me<3333 i don't think there's any other mutual left to tag, STILL, i'm tagging some of my fav girls here<33

@liahcharms @ryoride @tokkushin @veiledbulletz @ackpplepie @brinawing @4theloveoflotus @hotties4gojo @swamelon @ie4ri @fancy-possum @suigenerisisadiva @wiinterz @shoyomegs @batwngs @froggibus

[wiinterz]

aww thank you so much for the tag, here are some of my lovieeess and to all the beautiful ones i haven’t tagged

@inbred-eater @lonerslug @requiemdesreves @doiliedaze @mwahbabe @torufanj @tinycas @grotesquevi @lotties-ashwagandha @lyfeofbilly @hotties4gojo @h3avenlyglory

[lyfeofbilly]

Aww thank you tay 🥹.

my loviesssss

@mariquitaaa @mitchesmoon @ebvnydesires @inmyheadimobsessed @santhiquee @onyxstones-world

[ebvnydesires]

THANKS BB 🥹🫰🏾🫰🏾 ! !

I love y’all’s work sm! My talented babies 🤍

@faiology @moonlitjane @reverieglow @cinnamoncunt @kissmyglxck @prettyangeliczz @lullora @lil6uapa @angelcrescent @pvtypyt

[prettyangeliczz]

please this is so sweet 💗🥹

a couple of my bebes 💗💗💗

@melaninjoys @smoothcriminalgf @saintwrld @plan3tch1ld @yearlyjams @plumppies @cinnamoncunt @ohapplehead @faiology @wiitchesterr @angelfacediary

[ohapplehead]

aweee !! thank you angel <33

some of my lovelyss @lestatress @hyvnesangel @mooncriminal @g0matchi @seopoettic

[prettyangeliczz]

CHRIS BITCH ASS BROWN GOING TO JAIL?! SOMEONE PUT SOMETHING ON THE GRILL NOW

[kirbray04]

once in a lifetime ▪︎ oneshot

4.5k words

★ [hyperfeminine]!f!felix x sub!f!reader

— smut, hookup, drunk sex, semipublic sex, sex at a party, absolute filth, lesbian sex, oral sex, reader knows nothing about lesbian sex, no explicit use of felixs name, reader drooling over big mommy felix, fefe has nipple piercings, 18+

— after joining your friend at a house party, a hyperfeminine girl seduces you into letting her take you upstairs. she leaves you with an experience you'll never forget, as well as leaving you questioning your sexuality.

▪︎▪︎▪︎

Parties were never really your scene. you were too introverted for that. for the most part though it was because you rarely got yourself put together enough to feel like you could attend. you didn't like, hate getting ready, you just never found a reason to... and then got too used to it.

usually, you just haphazardly put a couple products in your hair, your glasses halfway up your nose. but today, just for the occasion, you wanted to feel like someone people could look at.

you spent almost two hours getting all dolled up just to go to some random persons house where you were probably gonna end up wasted, all because your friend randomly invited you. you were going to say no like you usually did. however—maybe just because you've been too cooped up for the past few months—you said yes.

and it honestly felt good.

you did your makeup. smokey eyeliner, a subtle lipstick. you fixed your hair with lots of product that you actually put effort in to put it in right, and then even borrowed a dress your friend had offered up.

you were already considering doing this more often. because why was it way more fun than you remember to stare in a mirror and blend concealer?

you didnt even have high expectations for the party. you thought maybe at the very most you'd get laid. when was the last time you had a good fuck anyway? a good fuck, probably never. but you've gotten into it with a couple nicer guys before, even if they weren't great at it. so you held onto the possibility that maybe something magical would happen. though you doubted it.

initially you were even worried you wouldn't want to be at the party for more than two seconds. you weren't the most confident. that being said you ultimately knew with a few drinks that would change.

your friend did also inform you beforehand she wouldn't stick around. which- lame. she invited you to join her, why would she dip? but its whatever.

you were already halfway through doing your hair when she broke the unfortunate news.

so, a bit late.

but you were able to hype yourself back up in the car. it wasn't the worst possible scenario you suppose if you have the nonsensical daydream of getting your brains fucked out that you're still subconsciously clinging to.

the party itself wasn't anything special. it was in an average, dimly lit two-story suburban home, with cars going up the road and people packed in every corner of the house. the music could be heard from way up the street, and if this was any other circumstance you'd be worried about neighbors complaining. but you know its not your problem.

you plan to drink, flaunt around and feel good for a bit– then leave.

as soon as you walk into the already open front door, you felt the musk of heavy air. it was claustrophobic downstairs, and you're completely totally positive the stench of weed is marinating in the house. luckily for you and your senses– your main goal was just finding the drinks, which wasn't very hard.

the kitchen was pretty much right at the entrance to the house, various cups and bottles of alcohol scattered around the countertops. it had you wondering why it was that when it came to these kinds of parties, everyone was so careless. but you suppose you have to be a kind of careless to even attend one of these dumb parties.

the dress you're wearing is quite a bit shorter than what you're typically used to. it goes to about your mid thigh, and it clings tighter to your skin from spontaneous ventures to the gym that have piled up to make themselves known.

you find yourself glad you got to the alcohol in the record amount of time you did. you're sure with being surrounded by so many people while dressed like this you'd be self conscious after just a few minutes if you stayed sober.

you find a random, half full bottle of– something. you're not too familiar with alcohol in all honesty, but it looks like it has a tolerable flavor and is possibly not as strong as some other options that you do happen to recognize. you dont dwell with putting anything else in your cup. you instead just sip it down raw and clear your throat afterwards at the mildly unpleasant taste.

this should be enough for now.

you think you might go back for more later– if you're still here that is. you'd rather keep your conscious though. you've never been a heavy drinker either, so you just try not to keep that idea in your mind.

at your first real glance around, its not as crowded as you initially thought it to be. the ceilings are tall, and big sliding glass doors to the backyard are wide open. most of the people you can hear are out there, with just a handful of groups piled in various areas of the house.

bothering to go outside where the true crowd was didn't peak your interest even in the slightest. even with the stuffy stench of weed and sweaty body warmth. and although your friend had technically left you behind—as well as the fact you weren't inherently social—you weren't looking totally lost like you thought you were going to. you were kind of enjoying this.

what this is? sitting on an empty couch in the corner and watching people talk. okay- it is kind of weird. your only excuse in the moment is that you're waiting for the alcohol to kick in. there is no possible way you could fault yourself around while still sober. so you would argue this is a normal thing to do in a party that you willingly attended.

hm. you thought the alcohol was taking quite a while to kick in.

you were still incredibly too nervous to swallow the lump in your throat and walk over to the group of guys surrounding the dining room table. and the guys sitting on another couch. and the group of- okay. seriously?

why are you still stuck to this sweaty couch?

you literally could've just stayed at home and drank there if you were gonna be this much of a prude.

just as you're about to swallow it up and get your 10 ton feet to finally hit the ground, someone walks over to you.

and- wow. shes pretty.

why is she walking over to you?

instinctively you look around, thinking maybe possibly someone else is also on the same couch and you just didn't notice.

you hear her giggle, a lot closer than you remember. yknow what. maybe the alcohol is kicking in. you had been starting to think you needed another drink. now? you were definitely tripping. no way she wants to talk to you.

your eyes lock onto her—like really lock on—and you feel your jaw drop at the sight before you. dammit. if only you had the mind to hold embarrassment.

she's in a short, pink dress. one of those with the thin straps and low cut on the chest. she had on gold jewelry, too. like- everywhere. dangly necklaces, hoop earrings, big, pretty bangles on her wrists.

she looks like an absolute dream.

her wavy blonde hair frames her just so perfectly she was glowing. she must be an angel.

yep.

the alcohol was now 100% coursing through your system. thats the only rational explanation for why you can feel drool threatening to spill from your open mouth. maybe you should shut it. but it also feels like gravity won't let you with each elongated moment you gawk at her.

you aren't even into girls. or- that's what you think, right? there's no way.

but you are very unashamedly checking her out.

what are you even saying.

it's obvious she notices how hard you're staring, now standing over you in a way that has your neck craning up to take in the view of her.

shes extremely intimidating like this, standing tall and proud above you. and her hot pink high heels don't seem to help your case.

its almost... hot?

you're getting way too ahead of yourself.

"hey beautiful." her voice comes out as a purr, a bit- deeper, than you had expected. but unfortunately—or fortunately—that only makes your heart eyes grow.

what is up with you right now? you have to be absolutely fucked up right now to be reacting like this. then again, you only had one drink.

you almost forget you're supposed to respond, too busy drooling over this absolute presence of a woman.

"oh- h-hi.." you have to physically hold back a nervous giggle, a habit way too embarrassing to shed light on at the moment.

at least you're aware enough to not make a fool of yourself. although that will most likely change with each passing second she continues to bore her eyes into you.

her smirk widens, and you can feel the lump building in your throat when her eyes scan over your appearance. you almost swore you saw her look at your boobs.

she steps a bit closer, enough that her domiant aura is right within your radiance to ensure you cower back in submission. its definitely working. youre also thinking straight out of your ass. why is your mouth still hanging open?

"you're cute. wanna join me?" she looks like shes holding back a smirk, most likely from how absolutely stupid you must look. she gestures her head behind her, to what you believe to be the stairs. her eyes are like those of a predator, and if you didn't know any better you'd think they're the perfect bedroom eyes.

"join you for what..?" you can't help but question. surely not for what you think shes asking. definitely not. that would be ridiculous. why are you hoping thats what it is?

she doesn't beat around the bush. clearly she's been looking for a candidate, and to her, you are just what she's been looking for.

"to fuck. you wanna?" she leans in a bit closer, her hands pressing into the back of the couch on the sides of your head, giving a seductive little sway of her hips.

theres no way.

there has to be something you're not understanding. maybe you're just super lightweight and that one drink had a massive toll on you.

maybe shes just messing with you to see if you'll actually try to do it. maybe she is a real angel. why does this sound better to you than your initial hope to hook up with a guy?

"just you.. and me..?" you sound just as clueless as you must look.

you swear you hear her mutter 'silly girl' under her breath, her grin widening. it has to be very clear being with a girl is completely foreign to you.

"of course just you and me. who do you think I'd what to share you with, hm?" she flicks her intense gaze up to your eyes, subtly biting her lip. "i want you all to myself. that is- if you want to.."

her voice softens by a margin, her manicured finger tapping against the exposed skin of your thighs.

you swallow. you never imagined yourself in this position. but- fuck. she's offering this up. even if you don't lnow what to expect with her, this is the most beautiful woman you've ever been blessed to lay your eyes on.

it makes you curious as to how many other have had the same opportunity as you. surely at least a few, with how sure of herself she is.

you are sure she's eye fucking you. there's no way this is a joke and if thats the case? you have no reason to say no. even if you make a fool of yourself for not knowing how to handle this.

"yes. yes please.." you sound breathless already, almost entranced. its not that you've never wanted to be with a girl.. you just- never really gave it much thought. or considered it an option.

although now that she was standing in front of you- actually offering this to you like its nothing, like its normal. you're inclined to not only believe that this is just a regular hookup, that- doing it with another girl is, in fact, normal. but also that you really, really are now craving it as much as she's making it seem like she's craving you.

you're starting to think you've been missing out.

you want her to prove that.

she lightly scratches her long, acrylic nail along your thigh, than slowly makes a trail up to your arm. the rest of her body follows, with her flowy blonde hair tickling your cheek as she whispers into your ear.

"let me take you upstairs then, baby."

you don't hesitate to nod, letting her hand slide down to thread her fingers with yours, her acrylics grazing the back of your hand in a way that makes you shiver. or that could just be the anticipation.

she leads you up the staircase, a slight sway in her hips. she takes her time, not once looking back to make sure you aren't stumbling up the steps. she has one goal and one goal only.

you don't even know her name.

you only realize that once she has you pushed down on a queen size bed that belongs to god knows who.

she didn't tell you, didn't even ask for yours. and shes hovering above you with her knees on either side of your hips, her dress riding up enough to where you can see the mound of her thong.

fuck- you've never been more turned on.

she lifts your own dress up, just so she can see your panties. completely soaked through, mind you. she slowly presses down into the sticky part of your underwear, grinding once.

the movement has your mouth falling open, your thighs trembling an embarrassing amount. because shes barely touched you.

its loud and clear how inexperienced you are in this field. it looks to only spur her on more, however.

her hands feel up your body and she shushes the small, involuntary whines you let out when her thumbs graze over your hardened nipples.

because- oh yea. your bra is already long gone, and your breasts and literally everything above are covered in lipstick stains.

you look a mess. your own lipstick smudged, with her lipstick marking almost every exposed part of your skin.

it all happened before you could register. with her locking the two of you in the room, pushing you onto the bed and her lips latching on and her hands grabbing- all in a blur.

you were so lost in it you don't think you could stop it even if you wanted to. (which you did. want it to happen).

and now that your staring up at her, hair frizzy, your dress covering essentially nothing–you feel crazy. like a fake for fighting the stupid urge to moan with each small touch to your skin. it makes every part of you burn for more, and you feel helpless to ask for just that.

"you're so pretty, baby.." she growls out, her mouth hovering close to your chest.

she licks her lipstick covered lips, letting a small glob of saliva drip down to your boob. you shiver as it drifts down the mound, her eyes watching with deep focus the whole time.

what shes doing is, okay- a bit weird. like, who just spits on a random girls boob? she does. you've definitely never had a guy do that to you before.

you don't even care. its hot as fuck.

as soon as it runs down below your boob, she latches on. mouth stuck onto the soft tissue of your breast, holding on and exploring with her mouth like some kind of image copier trying to remember the shape.

you watch her with a look of awe, your lips parted and your breath heavy. her teeth nibble at the supple flesh, making your elbows shake.

you want to beg, want to worship her so she gives you what you want. that of which you don't know.

nontheless, if she's a true goddess- so be it. you will worship her until the end of your days if it means she'll be all over you like this.

you can only imagine how pathetic you must look when she tugs your dress down all the way, taking your underwear down with it.

her lips drag downward on your skin as the rest of your skin gets exposed, and her eyes dont once leave yours.

her gaze is so... intense. you don't understand how she keeps it up so well, but you feel like a literal pool of jelly. you are absolutely certain you are leaking onto the bedsheets.

her mouth eventually makes it way down to the skin just above where you need her, and she mouths away, dragging her nails up and down your side in a way that has you arching forward.

she gently pushes down on your stomach, halting the arch with a growing smirk you can feel on your skin.

"you're quite eager, aren't you? kinda funny- considering you've never done this before, have you?"

the look on her face is wicked, knowing. of course- you didn't tell her you've never been with a girl.. but she didn't exactly mention it, either. it would be too embarrassing to speak it out anyway. so you just hoped she didn't say anything about it and you didn't do anything stupid.

clearly you were wrong.

"uh- i- ...n-never done what..?" the question is dumb. though you guess I'd be more embarrassing if she thought you were a virgin.

she almost rolls her eyes.

"been with a girl? had sex with one? come on, don't tell me you're a ditz. or have you had too much to drink?"

the sight of your face flushing deeper than it already is and your head shaking rapidly says it all.

"no! im- sober." blurting it out was maybe just to convince yourself. but you're sure all this activity has sobered you up. surely.

she doesn't seem too fazed- at least, definitely not as much as you. she just shakes her head, the grin on her face unwipable as she spreads your legs, holding one open on her shoulder to ensure you don't squirm.

"you ever been eaten out?" her voice is teasing, her breath fanning over your leaking, already sensitive pussy.

and—embarrassingly enough—no, now that you think about it. a guy has never once eaten you out, or even offered it up.

the way you blink down at her is telling enough, it seems, and without waiting for an answer she licks from your dripping hole up to the hood of your clit.

she stops after that, applying pressure with her tongue to wait for your reaction.

you think you might cum on the spot. your thighs tense up and are on the verge of shaking once she presses down with her tongue, and your hole clenches around air.

this isn't a position you haven't imagined yourself in, but it was always hard to imagine how it felt. and- wow, was it amazing. all shes done is lick up once and your mouth is falling open, body feeling tense and weak all at once.

"mhm. that's what i thought." she moves back just enough to look at you, sucking the juices on her tongue.

she looks back down at your pussy like she's inspecting her meal, and she dives back in, lapping and sucking.

thats where you think all your thoughts evaporated. she begins to lick and mouth and suck all like this is her last source of anything and she needs to clean out every possible crevice.

you don't think you've ever felt more explored by anyone.

your head falls back into the pillow thats probably covered in your nervous sweat, and you let out noise after noise every time she reaches your clit or teases your entrance.

her actions almost feel loving, with her hands gripping your inner thighs to pull you closer, her lips wrapping around whatever part of flesh she can.

"mmm" she moans lowly into you, the vibrations make your clit feel like its pulsing. you can barely make out her face, her vibrant blonde hair covering most of your view from her sensual, ravenous make out with your pussy.

you moan when she sucks on your clit, a surprised sound. she has to hold your thighs tighter to stop them from crushing her head.

you're shocked she didn't take her time to get you more riled up, immediately getting you disoriented with pleasure. before your brain can catch up you're cumming, whining and convulsing with the sheer intensity of it. you can't recall cumming faster in your life.

she groans, holding your hips up to lick up the creamy release before pulling back and dropping your hips back down. she sighs like what she just did was a task, wiping her messy chin with the back of her hand.

"you cum fast, don't you?" she taps her manicured thumb against your clit, watching you jolt with sensitivity.

"not- not usually." you pant out. great. you just heightened her ego. not that you don't already hold her above anyone else. you're pathetic.

"yea? so it's just me then, huh?" you can tell she wants to laugh, and you're suddenly much more aware of how at her mercy you are.

any response you have doesn't conjure up when she crawls up your body, pressing her clothed pussy down against yours.

"wow.." you murmur out. she looks heavenly on top of you.

"mhm. you love this don't you?" she guides your hands onto her hips when they hover uncertainly, your eyes big and full of what you could only describe as admiration.

"touch me, pretty girl. that's what we're here to do, isn't it?"

you give a mindless nod of your head, pushing down your fear of embarrassment to squeeze your hands on her hips.

"y-you're so..." you bite down on your bottom lip, your hands pushing up all the way to her covered breasts, and you grab at the straps on her shoulder. you flick your eyes up for permission, and when she gives it you immediately pull down both the top of her dress and her bra, your mouth going dry. "hot."

whatever reaction she has you don't pay mind to. your vision is completely focused in on the shiny metal bars pierced through her nipples. you didn't think she could get any more attractive.

this gives you a much better view of the freckles scattered all over her skin, from her beautiful angelic face down to her perfect breasts. seriously- she's doing charity work.

you let out an embarrassing sound when your hands grope the soft flesh, and you would be leaning up for a better look if her hands weren't holding you down.

"get more handsy. i know you want to."

you can't believe this whole time she's been completely clothed, looking pristine- flawless. it's degrading compared to her having left her mark all over you, almost from head to toe.

you wonder what kind of place she works in. how much money she makes. you'd be curious to know what she does with her life that makes her so sure of herself; what makes her seem so high and mighty compared to you.

you feel undeserving of seeing her undressed while in this state—or any state at all—broken down already just with the lingering warmth her mouth has left over every surface of your downright shameful body.

but you also don't think you could live with yourself if you don't get to see her full glory- get to see and lust over everything she's worth.

"please." you whisper out, your voice insecure as you gently tug at the remaining dress that hugs her skin.

"silly girl. you don't have to ask." she pushes off your body effortlessly. but- come on. everything she does seems effortless. you hardly recall her pushing down the remainder of her clothes when she crawls back over you in what seems like just seconds.

she positions herself as if its a common practice, holding one of your legs up and placing her heat on the top of your other. she looks down at you—in all her glory—with her pussy just barely grazing yours.

you will never live a better day than this.

her hand braces down on the bed, with her other keeping your leg up as she begins to grind, her face unusually smug.

your face scrunches up, pleasure jumping through your overstimulated body.

"you're still so wet, baby. you can take this. you want to please me too, don't you?"

you bite back a noise when she presses against you more firmly. you nod.

she gives a low hum, starting with a rhythm that has your eyes rolling back. you're already overstimulated, you can feel every push of her hips sending jolts through your body.

"fuck. im- im gonna-"

she leans down toward you, panting toward your ear with her pierced boobs right in your face. shit.

"don't tell me your cumming already? you're so fucking sensitive." she rolls her eyes, though it doesn't seem necessarily malicious. she only rubs against you firmer, the slide of the both of yours wet juices making it delicious and lewd.

by this point you're in tears, very obviously staring at her tits in your face. your brain is fried, to the point you don't notice how she's biting her lip and cumming against you.

"hah- im sorry- im.. o-oh gosh.." you cry out, still oblivious to the added liquid between where your connected.

you miss the look of pure amusement on her face when you spasm and cum what you would claim to be just as hard as the first time right against her, totally shameless.

after a moment that could only be referred to as you blacking out, she taps your shoulder. you snap out of your euphoric haze, blinking up at the beauty thats still right in front of you.

damn. you had really begun to convince yourself that this was actually all a dream. that makes this more embarrassing.

she looks... borderline bored. if not for the slight smirk on her lips.

"i gotta go." she whispers out to you, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your lips.

if you weren't already knocked out of your lovestrucken daze, this surely did. that- thats it? what?

you scramble to sit up, looking just as disheveled as you remember. your voice is caught in your throat, unable to say anything as she waltzes out the bedroom door, shutting it behind her.

when did she have the time to get dressed again?

you sit in utter shock for a moment, still a bit loopy from the intensity of your session. you feel like the most pathetic loser alive.

you look down at yourself, practically wincing at just how awful you look.

your body is covered in hickies and lipstick stains, sweat adorning every part of your body in a way that makes you shiver. post nut clarity must be real.

at the very least, she cleaned up between your legs.

you try to stand. keyword, try. your legs feel like you just got pounded into oblivion, and you didn't even get touched that way. you wobble over to your discarded dress and panties, pulling them back onto your body and patting down your hair as best as you can.

what are you gonna do after this? you just had the best night of your life and your supposed to act like it never happened? fuck no. this girl just changed your life for the better and you didn't catch the bare minimum of her name.

you know for a fact you will think about her for the rest of your life and there is absolutely nothing you can do about it.

but that was her plan all along, wasn't it?

you have a hunch walking back out to that party is going to be a disaster.

▪︎▪︎▪︎

a/n: omg i know im not like a super fantastic writer or anything but this took so long idk why i made this so long and why i took so much time to try and perfect it. good golly i hope at least 1 person likes this. i kinda proofread this but i started falling asleep while writing some parts cuz i write these at night so forgive me if some things dont make sense or something this whole thing probably sounds stupid so myb gng

[skzcollexion]

Barbie Felix strikes again…

[ohapplehead]

oh barbie fefe.

[michaelharmony]

“michael was a pedophile” “michael liked little boys” “michael touched little kids”

its so funny how ppl love to bring up the false allegations against Michael despite being proven innocent on all fourteen counts & the FBI not finding anything, yet for some odd reason nobody wants to talk about weirdos like ELVIS PRESLEY who dated a fourteen year old despite being a whole decade older. the racism is so crystal clear they aren’t even trying to hide it😹😹

[prettyangeliczz]

AND because of the elvis movie that austin butler starred in and the priscilla movie, especially the priscilla movie, most people have been romanticizing this man. they always have and will continue to do so, they don’t care that elvis stole from black people, and notoriously from big mama thornton. it’s always been because he’s a white rockstar, a white man at that.

[michaelsbbg]

something about this song just makes it so irresistible like i can’t stop listening to it

also all of invincible like can we talk ab that album more pls

[michaelcurls]

i wish y’all would stop mentioning how michael’s music is for everyone and how he loves everyone regardless of races whenever us black people mention non black fans stepping over boundaries. this kinda feels like a form of manipulation having to constantly hear something like that, especially when your favorite writer is being called out. i’m seeing LOTS of y’all defend it and it’s okay to call out your friends/favorite writers, i promise you you don’t need to hold their hand, they’re grown and need to take accountability for themselves. and you should also educate them if they’re not understanding anything in regards to black fans. everybody is human and makes mistakes, but if you’re coddling and babying them, they will not learn and will only hide behind you whenever they get called out. do better.

sincerely, a tired black woman.

[visualsbyaina]

CLOSE THE ACADEMY, ONLY STARS DO THIS SHIT

[3leni]

see you in july [13th, 2009]… and now, on july 12th, 2026 his biopic hit $1B at the box office after only being in theaters for 2.5 months !!! another record even 17 years after he left this earth. something every other biopic didn’t manage after spending half a year in theaters.

it’s divine timing if i’ve ever seen it and it warms my heart. he truly is second to none. and it hurts bitches to admit !!! ALL QUIET ON THE FILMTWT FRONT NOW, ISN’T IT ??? kiss the glove !!!

[visualsbyaina]

One billion for your biopic, exactly one day before you would have started your final tour in 2009, it's bittersweet in some way, but we couldn't be more happy to see you succeed once again. You keep setting records, and we are so proud. Just so you know, we miss you everyday ❤️‍🩹.

edit by me <3

[prettyangeliczz]

THATS WHAT THE FUCK I’M TALKING ABOUT! I LOVE GOOD NEWS! WE LOVEEE GOOD NEWS OVER HERE

[lovelyways]

ANOTHER PART OF ME // LONDON, 1988

[lestatress]

PROJECT MOONWALK | 📁 #1: wanna be startin’ somethin’

m. jackson x time traveler!reader [ series ] I'll see you in July. cont. drinking/intoxication , smoking (tobacco) , financial problems , social classes , fluff(?) , existentialism wc. 4.1k

i'm so sorry for the delay, here's a brief exp. since tumblr wanted to ruin my weekend!! i hope this chapter makes up for it ♡

masterlist previous chapter series masterlist

This is Agent 3985 Margot reporting for Mission 829 on Subject #6251. The time is 03:13:05, July 2nd, 1991. I just got home from my shift at Rêve. It's that fancy hotel bar in Beverly Hills that closed down in 2004. That won't happen for a bit, though, so I should be safe here. I've been in 1991 for approximately five months now.

California is nice. Everyone is friendly and talkative. It's especially pleasant to walk around in the early evenings when the sun is half-set and the air's a little cooler. People tend to be happier around this time. All the colors in the sky are so perfect; the lovers kiss on the bench; the street performer thanks me for the dollar I give him; the waves at the shoreline have settled enough that, if I so please, I can sit in the sand with my feet in the water. It's about the only time I can stand to be in the sun. Ever since hitching, I just turn all itchy, which is a shame when you're in the sunny Californian summer of '91.

Besides, I don't often get the chance to enjoy that time of the day. I start work at 9:00, so I get ready at 7:00, which is when the sun starts setting, and sitting on the beach and watching the sky doesn't pay the bills. I've become sort of nocturnal, but I like bartending. It's not the worst job I've had. The downside is the people. Rêve is a luxury hotel that hosts many exclusive guests, which is code for 'ultra-elite, Hollywood, old-money assholes'. I should know; I'm the one serving them.

As for my other work, I have not been as...successful. I...have no report on Subject #6251. His last public sighting was his trip to Bermuda with the Culkin family in June. He's reported to be here in California now, but Mr. Jackson keeps a strictly personal security team, and public appearances are brief and scarce. But for the past five months, something I heard when I hitched has been bouncing around my mind: I'll see you in July. Maybe it didn't mean anything at all. Maybe it did. I guess we'll see.

You groggily stir out of bed at half past five to the unbearably familiar sound of your alarm clock. You unplug it altogether after you miss the button a few times and groan as you're forced to move out of your comfortable position and plug it back in. When the analog numbers appear, a voice crackles through the static.

"-so it's looking like a nice, summer night over here in West LA," the newsman announces as you swing your legs over the side of the bed, "with partial cloudiness around 11:00. Now, to Alice on entertainment."

The station continues on your other stereo in the living room, which you must've accidentally left on last night. Strange, though. You don't remember turning it on. You shrug it off; this forgetfulness hasn't been uncommon lately. Even five months after hitching, your memory still gets a bit fuzzy at times. It comes off as ditzy and air-headed to your colleagues, a role that you begrudgingly play into; you've started to wonder how much longer until the side effects wear off.

You pop a slice of bread into the toaster while flicking a small lighter in your hand. Holding the flame up to the overhead light, you watch as the reds and yellows turn translucent and jagged, crystallizing into the air before your very eyes.

Not all light is different now. Electrical energy holds up just the same, but the sun and fire─untouched by humans and completely, naturally of the Earth─are luminescent in ways you never imagined possible.

When you've finished admiring the flame, you pop a thin cigarette between your lips and . You aren't a smoker─at least, you weren't. But with time in your hands, the reversibility of any harm is enough reason to allow yourself a vice here or there.

Truth be told, you've changed ever since you arrived. You wear your hair a bit differently now, but beyond physical changes, you've had a strange sense of self that the 21st century could not provide, the kind that can only come with a slower pace of life, no alerts and notifications, or mindless, short-form media. You're more mindful of your surroundings, more present in the given moment. Contentedness suits you rather well.

"And this just came in, folks," the newsreader continues, "Earlier today, Michael Jackson was spotted in Tom Toy's, a toy store in Beverly Hills that the popstar is known to frequent. Less than a minute after fans first noticed him, a crowd of approximately two hundred gathered..."

A cloud of smoke surrounds you as you exhale slowly, despite the fever rising in your blood. It quickens your heart and leaves your mind racing.

Tom's Toys in Beverly Hills...You sort through the mental map you've made of the city. Tom's Toys on N Beverly Drive. The very road you pass on your way to the Hôtel de Rêve─with the very man you'd hoped to see. Quite possibly the closest you've been to him, and, dishearteningly, you've just missed him.

That voice repeats itself in your head again. "I'll see you in July."

Nicotine settles into your bloodstream quickly. Out the window, motor vehicles of all kinds─trucks, SUV's, limousines, and taxis─maintain their routes on the city street with blaring bass lines and the periodic, angry honk. Your toast pops into the air, but your stomach is suddenly sour with guilt, and you've lost your appetite.

You leave your flat promptly at 8:34, sparing twenty-six minutes to get to the bus stop. It feels silly to be so adamant over a schedule when you know now that time is so irrelevant.

Try telling that to your boss, you think to yourself as you hurry down the sidewalk, swiftly maneuvering past others moving slower than you. Ever since hearing the news when you first woke, you've been excessively hard on yourself. Self-criticism certainly does nothing to help your case, yet you can't help but give into the overlapping thoughts that race through your mind like the cars on the road.

You wouldn't have missed him if you didn't have this fucking job.

A job that you need to pay rent.

Rent that you pay because you went and sent yourself back in time. Do you even hear yourself?

Contrary to your earlier mishap, you luckily arrive at your stop just as the bus pulls to the side. You and the usual others─a short grandmother who didn't speak English, a moody teenager who always wore black, and a man twice your age with a prosthetic leg; you love to subtly watch these stranger and the intricacies of these small moments you share with them─file onto the bus. You take your seat and recognize the intro of a familiar song playing through the driver's radio.

"Whispers at morning. Our love is dawning. Heaven's glad you came."

You enter the hotel through a back door. It takes you through a hallway lined with fluorescent lights. If you think for too long, you can feel yourself back in those halls they'd led you through. Those last moments of normalcy, though surely there was nothing normal about it.

Nevertheless, you shake off that nasty feeling as you cut through the kitchen, waving hello to the chefs. In the break room, you stash your bag into a locker as quickly as possible and tuck your top into your pants. The uniform is undoubtedly comfortable, but high-end dining calls for high-end appearing staff. "Don't forget, Margot," your manager says to you in the back. "Special guest at 10:00."

Another Hollywood prick to bless your night without leaving a tip. You don't say that part out loud.

Your night continues like any other. Hotel guests linger at the bar, some alone, some with company. Some strike up conversation, though most don't. Around an hour in, you find yourself craving a smoke break, which a coworker encourages you to. In the dark alley behind the building, the two of you briefly talk about his recent engagement to a girl he met in Vegas. He swears that she's the one.

When you come back, you return to the kitchen and bar staff frantically scrambling around as if the place were on fire. Servers are frantically cleaning, the cooks are arguing, and someone runs by with a bag of ice. Your manager asks where you've been and, before you can answer, points to the clock on the wall. The big hand points at 10.

You mentally curse at yourself.

"My other bartender just fucking fainted," your manager complains and tells you to take your partner's spot.

Quick to comply, you messily tie your apron around your waist and hurry towards the bar. The doors push open with ease, and the first thing you notice when you walk out is the silence. The Hôtel de Rêve is not usually a boisterous place; etiquette calls for a low, respectable volume. And it isn't unusual for private guests to rent out the bar to themselves. But this complete quiet that blankets the air envelopes you into the room as if nothing exists outside of it─nothing but you and your guest of the night.

And when your eyes finally land on him, your heart stops.

Because it's him.

Undoubtedly and sublimely him. His raven-black suit jacket is adorned with small, onyx jewels that reflect the bar's amber lighting almost as much as his lusciously dark eyes. Within them is a depth too vast to scale, and when they meet yours, and you feel yourself teetering over the edge. He wears the softest glint of a smile.

And, most profoundly, a thin, lucid line of opalescent light traces his figure─the same light that reached for you five months ago and has touched your soul ever since.

I'll see you in July, you think to yourself.

In his presence─and no one else's─you cannot move. You don't try to. You stand there, behind the bar, in your apron and uniform, completely still. Composing yourself, you move to follow the same formal script you've generated during your time at Rêve: "Good evening, sir" and "What would you like to start with?"

But before your voice can even find itself, his fills the air, soft and quiet as if to himself.

"It's you."

His words debilitate you, and you are utterly and horribly helpless in his gaze. You remain there for seemingly an hour, but what is an hour to a minute in the grand illusion of time?

He doesn't await your reply. He doesn't even appear to expect your professional greeting. The moment is as startling to him as it is to you, and you cannot determine why; but the moment lives on, along with the pulsing glow of his aura.

When he finally notices the confusion in your eyes, he breathily chuckles.

"I'm sorry. That was strange of me to say. I just-" you approach the bar, and he smiles in awe. "I saw you today."

You're intrigued. "You did?"

"I was on Ruemorth," he nods. "You were walkin' down the street. I could see you were in a uniform of some kind, but I wouldn't have guessed it was the Rêve."

I was pickin' at my nails and lookin' out the window. Bill had the jazz station on, which was calming and all, but I still had such an awful feelin' in my stomach. I don't know where it came from, or when, really, but, as I was lookin' out the window, I saw you. And the sun was angled so perfectly on you─y'looked so pretty. Unreal. I couldn't even believe my eyes. It was you...But Bill kept driving, and then you were gone.

"I live on Ruemorth," you concur, fulfilling your commitment to conspicuity. Though you would be lying if you said the truth of the moment wasn't short-circuiting your mind. You'd walked to the bus stop earlier this evening in such agitation that you'd forgotten to mind the cars on the road and the people inside them. But even if you had, would you have seen him? How many times had he been just out of your reach, so close yet so far?

"Well, how about that," he leans back in his seat with one arm rested on the edge of the bar.

You smile, "What can I get for you tonight, Mr. Jackson?"

"Please, call me Michael."

"Alright, Michael," you smoothly muse despite your racing heart. "What would you like?"

"A coke and vodka, please." You gracefully drift further down the bar to the rail and pluck a bottle of Stolichnaya. The crisp snap of a cold Coca-Cola cracked open; the quiet fizz once it hits ice in a crystal glass, the blur of fluids mixing together. But Michael doesn't miss the way your nose crinkles in distaste as you garnish the glass with a slice of lime. He grins, "What, you don't like it?"

You place the drink on a napkin across from him with a small smile. "Vodka is just an...interesting choice," you politely rib.

He hums as he takes the first sip; his eyes never leave yours. "How many Cuba Libre's do y'get asked to make in a night?"

"Quite a few," you reply once you think it over.

"Does it ever get boring?"

You want to disagree. Provoke him a little more so you can talk a little more; God forbid you were having fun. "Actually, it does," you nod, much to Michael's satisfaction. "Thanks, you’ve really made my day." The hint of sarcasm excites him, but you mean every word.

"You're welcome," he raises his glass. “Anything for the pretty girl walkin' down the street.”

Your breath hitches in your throat as a warmth gathers in your cheeks. Your nails dig crescents into your palms to fight the flutter in your stomach. Guests often flirt with you. Most of them are men twice your age who hide their wedding bands in their pockets. You’ve learned to smile and accept their unsolicited remarks without encouraging any more. But with him, you are speechless.

And, by the way he watches your drawn-out reaction, you realize he’s rather accustomed to this.

“What can I call you?” He asks, balancing the glass between his fingertips.

You smile bitterly, hoping he doesn’t notice. “Margot,” you offer; it feels vile to say it so plainly. As soon as it leaves your mouth, you wish to tell him that’s a lie─that’s not your name.

You aren’t who you say you are. You aren’t where you belong.

But he looks at you, and his eyes─deep, velvety voids—are filled with such adoration, you can’t imagine you belong anywhere else than here.

“That’s a lovely name,” he says before taking a sip.

A serene silence falls over the two of you. With no other guests or customers to wait on, no glasses to clean, no mess to sort, you idly stand to the side as Michael continues with his drink, only to stop halfway, his body suddenly stilling.

"Y'know what?" He catches your attention. "I think I will take that with rum."

"Right away," you nod and move towards the liquor rail again before Michael interjects.

"When I got here, your boss mentioned a rare collection in the back. Said somethin' about a bottle of Clément by Tournaire in the back. From 1966, I think?" Michael ponders to himself. Then, he looks back at you with those deep eyes again. "Would y'be a doll and grab it for me?"

Though his words make your knees weak, you internally groan at the request; the rare bottles are kept in a locked compartment whose key belonged to your shift leader. You explain this to Michael, who instructs you to, “Tell him I wanna give him my autograph".

When you warn that it'll take a bit to securely retrieve the bottle, he simply says, "Take your time."

If it were any other customer, you would have─but now, there isn’t a moment to spare. You’ve waited almost half a year for a glimpse, a scrap, and now you’ve been graced with the whole feast. You fetch the key from your manager. You try to ignore all of the fluorescent lights in the hall. The unit hisses open, its crisp air instantly biting your exposed skin. It threatens to freeze your fingers as they nimbly sort through the various bottles before finally landing on the Clément. With it securely tucked under your arm, you lock the unit door behind you and trek back down the awful hallway, through the kitchen, and towards the bar.

As you approach the doorway, your manager barges through with an unsettlingly keen look in his eye. He muttered to leave the keys at the bar.

But before you can question his manner, you enter the dining room and Michael's eyes land on you again.

"There she is," he beams.

You hold the bottle up, allowing him to admire its golden concoction as you prepare a glass with ice.

"Make it a double," Michael interjects your train of thought again.

"Expecting company?" You ask, reaching for another cup.

He shakes his head but waits until you crack two more cans of soda open to speak. "I got good company right now."

The ice crackles underneath the rum as you process his sentiment. Your soft smile soon disappears. You furrow your brows, but Michael's expression is steadily patient. "Oh," falls from your lips as it dawns on you. "I- That's very nice of you, but─I'm on the clock."

"Then don't drink. I'll pay for it anyway." He insists, so you continue with both drinks. "I'd like for you to join me, at least, in conversation."

"Weren't we doing that already?"

"No, you were serving me. I'd like for you to sit with me," Michael affirms. His kindness is perhaps the most unusual part of the night. "And, as of...right about now, y’not on the clock anymore."

"What did you-"

"It's alright," he reassures you. "I told your boss to send everyone else home. They're closin' up for the night right now. And, while I have you here," he reaches over the counter with long, lean arms and grabs one drink at a time, placing one across from himself and the other at the seat beside him, "I wanted t’get to know you."

Your face has undoubtedly gone red by now. Surely, he can hear your heart thumping in your chest. A part of you, buried and unearthed until now, eases into his proposal despite your best efforts.

"Does this work on every girl y'see?" You smirk.

"Dunno," his expression matches yours. "I haven't tried it before."

With that, you slowly untie your apron from your waist and leave it on the counter. Michael's eyes remain fixated on yours as you glide around the bar, meeting him on his side. And now that he's finally up close, you swear your heart stops again.

You can see the layers of color corrector and concealer blended and dusted onto his skin with perfection; the inky black line around his eyes; the way his dark curls have begun to loosely fall in front of his face, shadowing the contours of his cheekbones and nose. He’s unbearably real this close to you.

He asks you where you’re from. About your family, your parents or any siblings. Your favorite album, your first record, your favorite food. Through it all, you remain as loyal to the truth as you can, providing only fragments of it, and Michael’s eyes watch you as if there was nothing else in the world to see.

Eventually, the conversation veers from personal to casual and comfortable. The two of you shift as you talk, soon relaxing into the ease of the moment.

"My mother wanted me t'get rid of him," Michael chuckles to himself. "Said 'it's not right for a monkey to live in a house!' and made a big fuss to Joseph."

You smile as if you'd been there. "And now?"

"Now, she loves him. She won't say it," he points his finger matter-of-factly, "But I know it. I listen to her singin' to him, sometimes, or laughin' while he plays in the living room."

"Bubbles, the Chimpanzee," you smile to yourself with the rim of your glass between your lips. "Now, I want to meet him."

"You should," Michael enthuses.

Conversation comes so naturally with him that you wonder why you ever bothered interacting with any other guests. Occasionally, you crack a small joke, earning yourself a glimpse of his infectious laughter. And despite your earlier hesitation, you allow yourself one drink, which appears to be enough for the words to start spilling out of your mouth before you can stop them.

You don’t try to. You let the evening run its course, whatever it has in store. And, as Michael talks about himself ─a recent feud with one of his brothers or his stress with his upcoming album, which he refuses to speak more of ─you watch him.

The angelic aura surrounding him is no longer reminiscent of tessellated light. In fact, it isn’t reminiscent of anything. Not even the strange light of the sun or fire. His light glows in its own beautiful way, and it suddenly hits you that you aren’t looking at him through a magazine page or the static on your television, and you aren’t seeing him through the tessellation─you’re seated beside him, and however unreal he was to you before tonight is now the opposite.

Yet, there’s still a space between you and the present moment. All of it─the bar, the dining tables, the hanging Murano lamps, the shelves of luxury liquor─is horribly far away from you. Unreal.

Apart from him.

He who sits beside you like starlight, glowing and chimerical, yet present nonetheless. Flesh and blood, just like you. He who draws the same air as you, filling it with his light for you to take in, and from it, you feel an inexplicable sense of euphoria.

And, as hot, heavy tears begin to collect at your eyes, it dawns on you just how precious this moment is. An epiphany.

And a single question rattles around your mind begging for an answer.

How can I save you?

“There’s people out there who need real help, y’know?” Michael says, now rambling. You wish he’d never stop. “And I can reach them all─isn’t that beautiful? They listen to me, they love me…and I love them. I don’t want anyone to hurt. I have the power to really change their lives, to take away all that pain. I should try, shouldn’t I?”

He looks at you then, noticing how your eyes have turned glassy, but he doesn’t question it.

“Of course," you blink the tears away. "Is something stopping you?”

Michael thinks to himself for a moment. "No. I s'pose not."

Any tension you felt an hour ago has dissipated by now, though the shot of rum has certainly helped. His glass is empty, while yours is nearly finished, leaving lumps of watery ice and diluted Coca-Cola swimming at the bottom. It stays quiet for a long moment that fades into minutes, each one extended by the way his eyes remain on yours.

It makes your heart flutter, but you're oddly calm. There's something about it all that feels right─the first comfort you've felt in the past five months─as if you were meant to be here all along.

As you take the last sip of your drink, you realize that Michael has been waiting for you to finish. "Would you like another?" You instinctively ask.

He chuckles, "I told you, you're not serving me anymore."

"So, what now?"

After a few seconds, he finds the words, yet he still speaks them hesitantly. "Well, Ms. Margot, I hope it isn't strange of me t'say that I've had a very pleasant night with you. And-" He cuts himself off, now letting the words find him. "I'd like you to come home with me."

"You only met me tonight."

"I did," he nods. "I want to continue our conversation."

You squint at him.

"Not that kind of conversation," Michael gently laughs, taking your glasses and setting them on the other side of the bar. You watch his slender fingers reach back and offer themselves to you as he offers his hand. You feel yourself swooning, peering over the edge of the void again. This time, one foot dangles above the abyss.

"I can see plain n'clear how beautiful you are on the outside," he says while you place your hand in his; Michael's thumb rubs over your skin. "I'd like to see more of what's inside, if that's alright with you."

And, into the abyss, you fall.

a/n. i hope yall fw with the perspective changes bc that's gonna carry this story imo!! i tried to mimic michael's soft-spoken politeness so i hope it gives that, as always, reblogs, likes, and comments are greatly appreciated and thank you for reading! © lestatress 2026.

[ohapplehead]

me being tempted to make a simblr js for this gorgeous girl and her noncommital relationship..

[mjyaoipapa]

i love androgynous michael with a passion, like he’s so cuntyyyy that’s literally my laddddyyy and mannnn at the same time. am i wrong to say i love when michael leans into his feminine side. like yes bitch pop that pussy right infront of me and serve.