the review (drabble)

it was finally one of michael’s rare days off. and after you had spent countless minutes begging, pleading, and threatening to lock his ass in the house, he had finally surrendered to the idea of taking the day to just relax. and, of course, what better way to spend a lazy afternoon than with his favorite girl?

he was kicked back against the couch, one long arm propping up a thick book while his other hand rested comfortably on the curved swell of your ass. every so often, his fingers would mindlessly smooth light, soothing circles into your skin through your clothes, his touch heavy and possessive. you were completely draped across his lap, taking up pretty much all his space, resting on your stomach with a trendy fashion magazine spread out on the cushions in front of you.

you were just about ready to toss the magazine onto the coffee table out of pure boredom when you flipped to a page featuring naomi campbell.

“oh—that reminds me,” you said, resting your chin on your hands as you looked up at him. “i got the first cut of your new music video with naomi yesterday.”

michael’s attention snapped off the pages of his book so fast you almost heard his neck pop. he set the book face down next to your legs and looked down at you, his eyes wide. he valued your opinion on pretty much all of his projects—sometimes more than the directors'—so he always made sure you got the very first look just to hear your unfiltered judgment.

“and? what’d you think of it?” he asked, you could practically hear the excitement in his tone as he awaited your response, sitting up slightly like an eager little puppy waiting for a treat, practically wagging a tail you couldn't see.

“i really liked it, honestly,” you hummed, casually turning a page. “i loved the visuals and the setting you chose.”

“yeah,” he chuckled, a fond grin spreading across his face. “i can’t even lie, mama, it was so hot out there in that desert. i was melting.”

“i saw,” you smirked, biting your bottom lip slightly as the memory of the footage flashed in your head. you had almost drooled all over the tv watching his sun kissed, golden skin glisten on screen, completely covered in a mix of sweat and dirt. “you looked like a sexy ass glazed donut.”

“a what—” he gasped out, a high-pitched, giggle bubbling up from his chest.

“i’m jus’ saying!” you laughed, shifting on his lap. “and the sensual dancing was perfect as always, baby. rven though you always try to sit up here and claim you ‘don’t do dirty dancing.’”

“y’really think so?” he asked softly, his voice dropping into that sweet, velvety register you loved so much as he beamed down at you, completely soaking up the praise.

“yes, of course.”

“so...” he drawled, his long fingers mindlessly migrating from your ass up to start idly playing with the raw hem of your shorts. “what would you give the video as a whole? like gimme’ the official review.”

“mmm... an 8 out of 10.”

michael froze. “the hell—an 8 out of 10?!” he practically shrieked, his eyes bulging as he pulled his hand back in utter offense. “why so low?! what was wrong with it?”

“naomi was doin’ entirely too much,” you said plainly, giving a simple shrug of your shoulders as you pretended to go back to looking at your magazine.

michael stared at you for a long second, his mouth slightly open before a sudden, knowing smirk broke across his face. he let out a low, breathless laugh, shaking his head at your instant pout.

“baby, I know you’re not sittin’ up here bein’ jealous right now,” he teased, poking your waist playfully. “you know naomi was just doing her job! that’s literally the concept of the video, girl!”

you just hummed, flipping another page with unnecessary fake aggression, completely refusing to look at him even though you weren't even reading the words on the paper.

“tink, come on,” he pleaded softly, his tone turning instantly coaxing and sweet. he leaned his body over yours, his large hand coming back to rub soothing, gentle circles up and down the warm skin of your back. “don’t be like that. what’s my real score?”

you tried so hard to keep your face stern, but feeling his chest rumbling against your side and hearing the desperate, sweet tone in his voice broke you. you couldn't hide your faux irritation anymore. a small, helpless smile curled the corners of your lips as you looked up at his big, brown eyes.

“a ten, goofy. it’s a ten.”

michael instantly smiled, letting out a laugh as he dived down to bury his face in the crook of your neck, smothering you in loud, obnoxious kisses until you were squirming in his lap.

taglist:

@plan3tch1ld @yourleogf @angelofpearls @thebabykashmere @swavydadon @saintwrld @newctrll @callmelyriic @greekjournal @loveposiie @mjtvv @laimemoir @tojiswifeforlife @britbrat6501 @imbetterinstereo @nyctogeny @dimpddg @bonesxinny @blackwoman4mj @mjrockedmyworld @shadesofcool51 @444-cai @cloudsofwineandbooks @whittywhittywhit

A Little Attention.

synopsis, what happens when a needy girl needs her best friend? hmmmm......

ᢉ𐭩⋆.˚

The argument had happened earlier that evening, and neither of you had really gotten over it. Michael was frustrated with you, and you were frustrated with him, mostly because he always had a way of making you feel like you were in the wrong whenever he was upset with you.

“You always think you're right,” you said, folding your arms. You stood there pissed off, leaning against your white dresser.

Michael stared at you for a moment, his expression hardening. He didn't say anything at first, just looked directly into your eyes, his face tense as if he was trying to keep himself from saying something he'd regret.

“Listen tink, i'm not gonna argue with you.”

“Well, you're doing a pretty good job at it," you replied angrily.

His eyes stayed on yours. You stared right back, neither of you willing to look away first. Your chest heaved slow, but you didn't say anything, just continued giving that same mean stare. While looking at him, you felt your heart speed up. There was something about the way Michael looked at you when he was angry that always made you go quiet, even when you knew you had something else to say. His hands hung loose at his sides, fingers flexing like they always did when he was irritated.

The movement drew your gaze down, and there they were, those hands again.

Large....strong....

The veins running thick and obvious beneath his skin, disappearing under the cuffs of his sleeves. You knew exactly how they felt when they 'accidentally' would grip your hips, how his palms dragged over your skin, how easily his fingers could fill you up.

He always hand nice hands, they were perfect

The thought hit you hard enough that your thighs pressed together before you could stop them, but you just played it off as if you were still mad.

God, not now.

You needed to snap out of it. After what just happened? This should be the last thing you were thinking about. Michael noticed how quiet you got but didn't say anything.

Finally, he breathed slow and shook his head. “You know what? I'm gonna leave before we say something we don't mean.”

He walked to the door but you walked in front of it, purposely. He stared down at you, "Move, y/n." He said, bitter sweetly.

Yeah, he was mad. More than that, even. You could see it in the way his jaw tightened and the way he kept his eyes fixed on you.

“Or what?” you challenged.

Michael stepped closer, forcing you to hold your ground. Your arms were still folded across your chest, though they loosened slightly as you realized just how serious he was. His eyes flickered over your face, catching the change in your eye, underneath it all, excitement. He noticed your breathing had become uneven, but he didn't comment on it. Instead, he simply shook his head.

“Move,” he repeated, firmer this time. “I'm not asking you again.”

You swallowed, then finally stepped aside. You walked a few steps away from the door, still hovering close to it.

“That's what I thought,” he muttered, walking past you. He eyed you before walking out the door, the door slightly slammed.

Now you were sitting alone in your bedroom hours later, still thinking about him. Michael was at a meeting somewhere across the city. You tried to distract yourself, but your mind kept going back to the argument, especially the way he'd looked at you. You hated admitting it, but you liked his attention. Even when it came with an attitude. After a few hours of debating with yourself, you reached for the phone and called him.

He answered after a few rings.

“What is it girl?” he asked, sounding annoyed, but he still answered.

You laid back in your bed, comfortable. “Nothing,” you said, trying to keep your voice casual.

“Nothing?” Michael repeated, clearly annoyed at you. “You called me while I'm at this presentation for nothing?”

“I just wanted to hear your voice.”

He paused, after the argument, why would you need to hear his voice? “Stupidity,” he mumbled under his breath, shaking his head. He glanced off to the side, his lips pressing together as he tried to hide the small smile threatening to show. He was still a little annoyed with you, but clearly not enough to keep it up. “Ready to apologize?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

You rolled your eyes. “Oh, please. I did nothing wrong.”

He gave a quiet scoff. “You do a lot of things wrong, but you get away with it ’cause you think you’re too cute.”

Time to tease, you thought to yourself. “You really think I’m cute?”

“Don’t start,” he replied, already knowing where you were going with it. You could be a little cocky sometimes. His voice softened slightly, though you could still hear the irritation underneath it. “You shouldn't be calling me right now, I'm in a meeting."

"Then hang up.”

"...I'm already outside, told them i'd be back in 10 minutes." He then shook his head annoyed, behind his glasses he squinted as he listened against the phone. “You're something else.”

You smiled. “You miss me?"

"Not in the slightest.” He was quiet again, “Still thinking about earlier?” he asked.

Yes, you sure where. “Yeah," you said, fingers still petting against yourself slowly...

“So am I.”

You hummed slightly, “You are?”

“Of course I am.” His voice was calmer now. “You think I just walked away and forgot about it?”

“I didn't think you'd forget.”

“Then what did you call me for?” he asked leaning against the wall.

You hesitated before answering. You knew why you were calling, simply to hear his voice again. You liked hearing him get at you, getting all mad, looking at you like he wanted to put you in your place. You've argued before, but not like that. Not this time where you accidentally got turned on by it....

"I guess I wanted to know if you were still mad at me....”

Rolling his eyes, Michael shook his head. “I've calmed down, tink...” he replied, slipping in the name he would call you sometimes. Of course, he couldn't stay mad at you for too long. Petty? Yes. But actually holding a grudge against you? Not for long.

He walked in a small circle before he stopped, he heard something in the back, but didn't speak on it yet. But as you two talked more, the sound got a little more noticeable, your breathing, your stumbling over words, then it clicked in his head. His whole body locked.

"Y/n."

Your fingers came to a quick hault, "....Yes?"

He stopped walking but pressed the phone tighter to his ear, "Did you really call me out my meeting with Quincy, just so you could get off to my voice?"

Shit, maybe you got too loud. "No," you quickly replied retracting your fingers.

"Don't lie to me, I hate that."

"I said no Michael. The fact that you even dare to think of something like that is so nas-"

"Oh don't even," he said lowly. He leaned into the phone some more, "You think I don't hear that? You think I don't hear your breathing change every time I finish saying a sentence to you?" He asked.

There was now a small pause on your end, but of course, you loved it. Your fingers threatened to keep rubbing but you stopped. You kept quiet.

"...Funny enough, it changes the same way when I was talking to you earlier. You got something you wanna say to me?" He waited but of course no reply from your end.

"Trying to concentrate on cumming?" He mocked.

Your pussy got wetter when he called you out on it, "I said I'm not."

"Save it." Michael cut you off. He then looked up at the clock on the wall, 7 minutes until he needed to walk back into his meeting and pretend nothing happened.

"I'll entertain it, just this once..." he said.

After a while he spoke again, "Take your panties off, if you haven't already."

Before you could respond, your fingers reached for your panties. They lightly clung to your pussy from the wetness before being fully removed. You tossed them right on the floor and sat back against your pillows. "Now....now what?" You mumbled.

"Hm, don't know..." he replied sarcastically. "Whatcha wearing, I need a vision...."

You pressed your lips in a thin line, you then looked down over your gown. "Well...it's like a reddish gown, night gown, more like lingerie, I don't really have a bra on right now...." you stuttered out.

"Don't get shy," he told you.

You continued a little quietly, "It has thin little straps, it's pretty short on me....stops around my butt..." you told him. He hummed to himself, his eyes flickered along the wall. He started imagining you, laid on the bed in your pretty gown, in of course his favorite color...

"So, it's no different from what you usually wear when I come around?" he tilted his head. You bit the lower half of your lip while listening.

"Do you do it on purpose to me? Just for my attention?"

“…Don't know,” you admitted just as sarcastically.

"So now you don't know?" he asked you. Then a sigh left him, "Tell me the real reason why you called me. Tell me while you rub your clit, im sure its sensitive..."

So, you did, slowly but surely. Small rubs, small circles traced around your puffy clit. "I called you because... I wanted to talk to you...."

He hummed, "And?"

"Just that, just wanted to hear you..."

"I'll hang up."

"Please don’t oh my gosh," you muttered annoyed at him. "Youre such an asshole."

“You sure you should be talking to me like this after what you pulled earlier?” he asked, still a little pissed at you. He paused, taking a breath as he slowly calmed himself down. Someone passing by caught his attention, reminding him that they needed him back inside. Michael simply nodded. 'Sure thing,' he replied before turning his attention back to the phone, his voice softer when he spoke again.

"Still rubbing tink?"

"Yeah," you huffed, fingers trembling around yourself.

"Thats good...." he told you, "Now tell me more, why'd you call me?"

You rolled your eyes, but eventually just came out with it. “I was replaying what happened in my head between us, and well…when you got mad at me…” You trailed off, suddenly a little hesitant to finish what you were trying to say.

“Your voice got low…the way you were looking at me. It just—I don't know. I liked it.” You admitted it quietly, almost wishing you hadn't said anything the second the words left your mouth.

There was a brief silence on the other end. “God, you're crazy…” Michael sounded a little taken aback, followed by a quiet laugh.

“You actually liked me being mad at you?”

“Shut up,” you said a little louder into the phone, your face warming. “I didn't say all that.”

“You pretty much did.”

“I hate you.”

“No, you don't,” he said, sounding far too amused with himself. "If you did, I don't think you'd be touching your pussy, now would you?"

Well, he had a point, so you replied with silence.

Michael let out a quiet breath that could have been a laugh. His voice came through warm and low, almost tender. “Aside from this attitude you always have, you're being real good for me. Even when you’re all worked up and alone in your room.”

You bit your lip, pressing the pad of your finger a little harder against that sensitive spot just inside. “Trying to be...”

"Yeah, because you want something. I know you" Michael gave a soft hum, “Imagine I’m there with you,” he said quietly. “Dragging my fingers up there, watchin' you open up for me like I know you would.''

"....I’d tell you the same thing I’m telling you now, just go nice n slow. No rushing.” He let the words settle before adding, “Give yourself a little bit, just to let your juices flow, stroke that spot that makes your thighs shake....”

 A soft whimper left your lips as your finger pleased your own intimates. Michael stayed silent for a moment, loathing in the sound of your moans and pussy.

“I know, I know tink....” he murmured. “It’s hard to hold back when you’re thinking about me. But you’re doing so well. Just a little longer.” He paused, then asked, “What are you thinking about right now?”

“Your eyes, your mouth....your fingers....wanting you to touch me,” you admitted, voice trembling. “Wanting to hear you say these things while you’re actually here.”

"Yeah? Well slide one in, and curl it. That's what I would do, just curl my fingers in your pussy, giving it just what it needs, some attention."

You do it, your head pressing back into the pillows.

".....Then, I’d tell you how pretty you look. I'd make you focus on my fingers, make you watch it slip in and out that needy cunt..."

He listened for your breathing, and spoke again, "Go faster,"

"Fuck your fingers, fuck em."

A helpless whine was heard from you, your pussy still so slick and needy. "Mhm," he hummed hearing you follow his directions. A small groan left his own lips as he heard you on the phone.

"I'd tell you how much of a good girl you are, soaking up my fingers..."

You then sped up even more, letting a few more quiet moans slip out. Michael smiled to himself as he listened, "Just like that baby, chase it..." he said encouragingly.

"Chase that high..."

"Focus tink, I know you can do it...."

Your eyes squeezed shut, tears threatened to slip past your lashes. Gosh this felt so good. Fucking your pussy to his voice, you wish he would come back to do it for you. Your own walls squeezed around your finger, your back arched in pleasure. You kept that phone real close to you.

"N'Just for fun, I'd kiss you. Would you want that?" he asks you softly. You nodded against the phone like he could see you, Lord knows he wishes he could.

"Yes," you say breathy, head still in the clouds.

"Then i'd give it to you," he said nodding against the phone. "I'd kiss you however many times, kiss you all ova that pretty face I love staring at so much..."

More...and more moans started to fill your phone line, all of which made Michael smirk to himself.

"You'd like that tink? Me kissing your tears away too?"

You imagined it, Michael's fingers deep In your pussy, occasionally hitting your clit too, his tongue slowly slipping between his lips to kiss and lick over your tears. It was too much for you.

"Fuck that pussy fa'me...." he told you. You were close, he could tell. “You’re almost there,” he said, voice low and warm.

“...When you let go, I want you to keep fucking that finger, don’t stop until I tell you..” He waited until your breathing grew ragged, then added,

“You can cum now......nice and quiet.”

A low whine slips from your throat as you press your face into the pillows, the sound turning into a soft, broken cry when your fingers hit just right. His name tumbles out before you can catch it. "Michael, please..."

"Yeah baby, you sorry now?" he encouraged, slightly groaning himself.

"Mhmghh-Michael," you cried out softly as your fingers slowed. You breathed slow as you slowly opened your eyes. Tiredly you grab the phone with you free hand.

''All better?" he asked leaning his head against the wall.

You let out a tired little hum, still catching your breath. "Yeah…" The word comes out small, a little embarrassed, but a smirk tugs at your lips anyway. "Thank you...."

Michael’s tone shifts, still quiet but laced with a mocking edge. “Mhm," he said.

He then glanced around before speaking again. "Y'know you sound real pretty when you cum...." You let out a quiet chuckle as you turned over in your bed.

"Try not to start another argument just to get my attention next time, alright tink?”

A soft chuckle left your lips, "Mhm, I won't" clearly a lie, you were already plotting....

"Sure, go clean yourself up, I gotta head back....Quincy's probably worrying why I'm taking so long."

“Mm, sorry,” you told him, slipping out of the bed to grab a towel.

“Be good fa’ me, I’ll see you soon.”

“Yeah, yeah. Go back to your very important meeting,” you replied, a little slickly, though there was a smile in your voice.

Michael chuckled softly. “Alright, smart mouth. I’ll talk to you later.”

You smiled while biting your lower lip, “Bye, Michael.”

“Bye, tink.”

The line went quiet with a soft click, leaving you standing there with the phone still in your hand. You shook your head, a small smile tugging at your lips. Wonder what’s gonna happen when you see him again…

I am nawt good at dirty talk but I tried!!!!!!!!!! 🌚, no tags, if it finds you it finds you...

literally gonna freakin bust.

thinking about... reader with acne and childhood bff!jacksons!michael who has the biggest crush on you despite it! ꉂ(˵˃ ᗜ ˂˵)

childhoodbestfriend!michael who notices the way you duck your head when he pulls out his camera—how your hand rises instinctively to cover the side of your face, fingers curling protectively over your round cheeks like you’re trying to hide the evidence of something completely shameful. he always catches your wrist before you can fully retreat from him, and his grip is always gentle and careful, like you’re something precious that could shatter if he’s not tender enough with you.

“don’t,” he says quietly, and his thumb finds the inside of your wrist where your pulse flutters from his touch like a trapped bird. the pad of his finger rests there until the frantic beating slows into an eased rhythm. “you look so pretty.”

and he means it, every single time. he’s never once looked at you like there was something that needed fixing or hiding or an apology for existing.

you’ve known this since before either of you had words for it.

off the triumph thriller era >>>

It’s funny when people drag an OC for being a bird in a MICHAEL JOSEPH JACKSON fanfiction like they’ve never been a dummy for a man in their LIFE…

When it comes to MJ oh I would’ve been a baby mamaaa

Don’t come to me as a woman about nothing I’d never come off him, never never ever!! #yamhead LMAO

𝓃o 𝓂aster 𝒸hef

⋮ ✶ ┆it’s family dinner night and you’re cooking for michael and his brothers but maybe everyone has something they wanna tell you?

⋮ ✶ ┆𝒻. reader x husband!michael j. | you aren’t a good cook. some lowkey bullying from his brothers. comedy. fluff. imagined thriller/thrad era but it doesn’t matter. michael comforts you. lowkey some slop. 0.9k wc

𝓂asterlist

𝓉aglist : @belladafellaa , @darlingpyt , @micksbby , @vjnuuss

will you?

⁀➴ the jacksons era! michael x gf! reader

⁀➴ michael asks you to prom!

⁀➴ no warnings!!! i was inspired to write this bc i was imagining things michael never got to do,, sighhh and wardrobe asked skai to homecoming on SU and she was never asked, lmao

⁀➴ you haven’t gave prom much thought. thats lie, thats been the only thing on your mind since you started high school. on your 18th birthday you wished for the perfect prom night. the dress, the hair, the shoes, the makeup, but most importantly your date.

and you tried not to speak too much about prom around your friends, because they always asked if michael was taking you. honestly you didn’t know. you only started dating him at the beginning of the year. in his words he would’ve asked you sooner but his dad believed it was no time to be involved with girls. he needed to stay focused on the group. you highly doubt since you weren’t the finest thing in freshman year but agree to disagree.

of course, michael wasnt at school much. between recording, practice. tv appearances, and traveling with his brothers, seeing him in the halls felt seeing a shooting star. sometimes only showing up to get the work for the next 2 weeks then disappearing again.

seeing each person day after day getting asked, made your stomach twist. you didn’t, couldn’t admit you were jealous. the girls squealed over dress colors and corsages. the boys bragged about the limousines their parents were paying for. you truly tired to tell yourself that it didnt matter to be asked. that it was just one dance for one night.

as those days passed you became slightly embarrassed, the kids quietly teased you. they questioned the authenticity of your relationship. you were the michael jacksons girlfriend and he still hadn’t asked you. technically they didn’t know you were girlfriend, i wasn’t hard putting two and two together. when michael was at school he spent all his spare time with you. he waited for you to come out when class ended, held your hand in the halls, ate with you at lunch, and walked you home after school. thats all proof they had, until friday. one day before prom

another day of trying to convince yourself not to expect anything. you sorted though your locker trying find this specific something you lost.

“cuse’ me miss, have you a really beautiful girl with beautiful browskin and such pretty long eyelashes?” michael’s sweet voice asks you. completely ignoring his question, you squeal and wrap your arms around his neck. when you look up you see a crowd of people surrounding you and you see marlon holding a rose. you let go of him and give him a confused look. he begins walking back giving you a silly grin.

marlon begins clapping creating a rhythm,signaling everyone to do the same. you covered your face as you realized whats going on. then he began singing.

“i’ve been thinking, dreaming of one special girl” he pointed at you. before he spun, qnd marlon singing background and dancing dramatically.

“oh! and i hope she’ll spend one night with me!” he does more footwork. earning cheers from the crowd.

marlon hooting in the back ground “ooh! tell her, mike!”

michael spins around to grab the rose from marlon. ‘so tell me, pretty baby, what do you say? will you be my date on prom day?” as danced his away towards you, holding the rose for you grab.

“gosh mikey, yes!” your face, now covered in tears from laughing the at this whole performance. you wrap your arms around his neck, as he rocks you back and forth. the crowd that gathers around you begins clapping, before they disperse since the bell starts ringing.

“we practiced for 2 days and marlon still was messing up.” michael rolled his eyes. you two held hands on the way to class. you laughed some more, squeezing his hand .

“michael, it was amazing, you dont know how much this meant to me.” now at your class, giving a peck his cheek. “thank you.” you looked at him in his eyes with a sweet smile. and michael looking at your with hearts eyes, mouth agape wanting to say something but your mean old english demands you come into to class, and michael to get to his. he continues to hold your hand for as long as he could while you walked in.

now, at lunch your girls are freaking out. they couldn’t believe michael asked you in that way, maybe like just a rose or a poster but a performance was next level. you couldn’t believe it either, now your not-so secret, secret is out. which doesn’t scare as much as it did.

while michael walked you home, fingers intertwined with yours. randy and marlon walked in front you.

“what color dress are ya wearing?” he realized he never asked.

“hmmmm, like a off-white one.” you answered in casual way, you always known exactly what you wanted to wear and got exactly that. michael nodded slowly thinking of his outfit.

finally arriving at your house, he walks you up your porch stairs. “y’know im glad you said yes, even though marlon kept do the wrong steps.” he kept back to them as they waited for him on the side walk.

“hey! y’know can hear you, right?” marlon shouted. michael whipped his head over his shoulder and stuck tongue out.

“anyways, never in a million years would i have told you no. i honestly wasn’t expecting much.” you shrugged. michael put his hand over his heart, obviously offended.

“i can’t believe you could think so little me!” his tone now overly dramatic. you giggled at his antics, slapping him on his shoulder.

“i got to get going now, these two idiots are rushing me” looking over his shoulder and seeing both marlon and randy touching their wrist signaling him to hurry. “ill be here tomorrow, at 6:30 sharp!” you nodded eagerly before he kissed you on the lips. “eugh! michael!” randy and marlon yelled. he quickly pecked all over your face one last time before walking off while waving at you.

⁀➴ your mom helped with your hair while your dad gave you run down on what he expects tonight and if michael acts up he’ll find him, he doesnt care about who the hell michael is. you and your mom laugh at him. you do your make up lightly, sliver shimmer on your eyelids and velvet blush with gloss to match, your long lashes curled. you put on your sliky dress and your kitten heels to match. your done in a curly up-do, so the focus is only on your dress. as you run your hands down your dress, you hear.

“michaels here, honey!” your mom yells. you check the time 6:27, you only smile and shake your head.

as slowly you make way down the stairs, your eyes land on michael. hes truly awestruck by you. like it was only you and him in the room. you see mrs.jackson standing next your mother, giving her a smile and a waving. at the last step michael your hand, helping you down.

“wow. you look so….beautiful” michael slowly taking you in. his eyes roaming all over your body.

“you don’t clean up to bad you self.” you running over his chest, smoothing out his collar. he puffs up his chest in confidence. he takes your left hand and slip slips on your white rose corsage.

“oh my, mikey this is beautiful” you gasp. a blinding flash interrupts your sweet moment with your boyfriend.

“i guess its time for pictures…” you sigh out.

they made you guys do the most ridiculous poses, insisting that you needed to do them. forcing them to wrap up quickly because you know that your parents be your parents would keep you there and have you guys miss prom. as michael lead you to his car, both of your parents remind you two stay safe and make good choices. your father being the loudest one saying “have her home no later than 10pm!” michael salutes at his request.

prom was all you dreamt of, but you and michael ultimately decided to leave early. ending your night at the dinner sharing a strawberry milkshake.

no proofread bc im lazy. i totally made up some bs for those lyrics.. this so fun and silly to write

lmfaoo

this ain’t even no laughing matter cuz it happened to me in private rs. 😭

thrad!michael x singer!black reader

Your apartment — 1985

It was currently 1 am in the morning, you were in your bedroom papers scattered everyone, sheets filled with music lyrics and other song ideas for your upcoming album. You were currently sleeping finally getting some beauty rest after another long day of going over vocals and lyrics practicing over and over and over until you had enough for the day. Your silk press wrapped in a bonnet, you were extremely comfortable wearing your moomo. You had no plans getting out of your bed for the night.

Until that cell phone rang that was sitting on your vanity, you were still knocked out refusing to get up, it finally stopped ringing just to ring again two minutes later. You groaned rubbing your sleepy eyes trying to rub the sleep away. You threw your covers off your body getting annoyed from being woken out your sleep. You rubbed your left eyes walking over to your vanity picking up the phone sucking your teeth. "Betta be something important." You murmured before placing the phone to your ear finally picking up.

"Hello?" You said, voice annoyed yet groggy.

“morning sunshine.” A voice echoed through the phone, you knew that voice from anywhere. The greatest producer in the entire world right now.

Quincy Jones.

You blinked your eyes trying to blink the tiredness away, you ran a hand down your face sighing. “What is it Q?, do you have any idea what time it is?”

He checks his watch. “mmh close to two in the morning, you able to come in right now? Got a few vocals I want you to do for me.” He smiled even though you couldn’t see it.

“Q….you want me to come in the studio at,” you turned your head to look towards your clock that sat on your dresser. “two in the morning, are you okay?” Your voice slightly annoyed.

“well if you want the greatest album in the world as a woman artist then i suggest you get on up and get dressed, i sent a driver he’ll be there shortly so if I was you I’d be getting up right now.”

“You sent a driver for me without me even sayin’ yes or no?” You sucked your teeth but you knew he was right, if you wanted to be the best there was only sacrifices that came with success and if losing your beauty sleep was in the category then so be it. “I’ll get dressed, I’ll be there in twenty.”

“thank you.” He said then hung up. The line running cold between the two of you now, you slowly placed the phone back down and let out a loud aggravated groan. “why the fuck is this even my life.” You muttered the words under your breath as you stared at yourself in the mirror, still half-asleep.

Twenty minutes that was all Quincy had given you. Twenty minutes to fully wake up, get dressed, fix your hair, grab your things, and somehow look presentable enough to walk into a recording studio at two in the morning.

You shook your head. “This is so irritating.” You looked through your closet to find something comfortable to wear throwing on sweatpants and a fixed tank top. You grabbed your bag and headed downstairs. The driver was already waiting outside exactly when Quincy said it would be. Of course it was.

You rolled your eyes walking towards the car backseat, you got inside looking at the driver, a soft smile spreading across your lips. “Good morning.” You greeted trying to uplift yourself, the tiredness drifting away. The man who was driving you said his good morning back and started driving away.

The drive through Los Angeles was quiet, the streets nearly empty at that hour. You rested your head against the window, watching the city lights blur past. You were tired. Extremely tired, but you knew if Quincy called it was always strictly about music and business, never no games. And if waking up at two in the morning meant being the greatest female artist in the 80s then so be it.

After a while the car came to a stop, you looked out the window looking at the building. Westlake studio. You sighed before stepping out the car thanking the driver before you go. The moment you stepped through the studio doors the familiar smell of coffee and lots of people moving in the hallway evening at three o’clock in the morning now greeted you.

A few people were still working despite the ridiculous hour. You spotted Quincy almost immediately, a soft welcoming smile on your face already. “mornin.” You said walking towards him. He looked completely awake which honestly annoyed you a little bit, how the hell wasn’t this man ever tired?.

“Finally,” he said. “Took you long enough.” He laughed “come on. I’ve got something I want you to hear.” He let you farther into the studio. You were talking about the melody he wanted you to try when you suddenly noticed someone sitting a few feet away.

You stopped dead in your tracks, like seriously you stopped dead in your tracks. It was Michael Jackson. Thee Michael Jackson. The same man you admired because of his amazing footwork and amazing performances. And oh my gosh that amazing soft voice he carried. It was like you saw a ghost your jaw dropping just a bit, this was your first time ever meeting Michael Jackson, you’ve meet plenty of celebrities but never Michael jackson which was an complete shock to you.

He was sitting quietly near the console, dressed casually instead of all the fancy outfits he wear. He was listening to everything some other producer was saying. You hadn’t expected him to be here at this hour. Michael noticed you looking and immediately gave a small, polite shy smile as if he knew you already.

“Hi.” He said

You smiled back. “Hi.”

Quincy glanced between the two of you. “Michael, this is the artist I’ve been telling you about. (Name) meet Michael, Michael meet (name)”

You looked at Michael, making direct eye contact with him he looked even better up closer as if he was an angel who snuck on earth it was breathtaking. You extended your hand out. “Hi Michael, it’s nice to meet you.”

he looked down at your hand then back at your eyes, he was a gentleman yet also a big flirt to the ladies. So accepting a handshake from a girl as beautiful as you?, unacceptable. He spread his arms out embracing you in a friendly manner hug. “It’s a pleasure to meet you as well (name)” he said then stepped back enough to look at you after you two stopped hugging.

Quincy just stood there watching letting the two of you greet each other, you damn near would’ve thought you were gonna pass out. He smelled amazing. He was tall. He was breathtaking. You seriously thought you were hugging an angel for a second. After you two separated from the hug you smiled and nodded your head.

Michael smiled as well a bit. “I’ve heard some of your work.”

You looked at Quincy. “You’ve been talking about me?”

“Only good things” Quincy chuckled a bit. “Enough talking, let’s work”

You walked into the recording booth and slipped the headphones on, your lyrical notebook sat directly in front of you on a stool so you could see your lyrics that you had scrabbled on pages with other ideas. Your foot tapping on the floor, your hand tapping lightly on your thigh as you practiced lowly before the music even started.

Quincy and Michael sat behind the booth on chairs, Quincy dealing with the equipment while michael just sat there like he had no time in the world, you thought it was odd at first which made you completely more nervous because thee michael jackson is sitting in your recording session right now. The person you admired dearly.

“You ready?” Quincy asked you pressing down on a button that allowed you to hear him from behind the booth. “Yeah, I’m ready.” You said nodding your head lowering your head closing your eyes giving yourself a prep talk before the song began. “You’re confident, you’re strong, you’re beautiful, and you work miracles on everything you create.” You muttered.

Quincy just sat there and watched giving you time. After a few minutes he pressed the button again. “You ready now?” He asked. You raised your head and nodded. The instrumental began. You closed your eyes and began singing.

“tender lovin it’s what I want, don’t wanna rush it nah,” you started singing keeping your eyes focused on your notebook. “let’s take it nice and slow honey, caress my body and hold me tight, don’t let me go baby, until I get enough ooh.”

The room became completely silent, michael had been casually listening at first. But within seconds his expression changed. He leaned forward slightly.

You continued singing resting your notebook on a stool propt up so you could still read it. “baby tonight the loving is right, you know how I like it, yeah. You know just what I want, babyy.” Your voice wasn’t loud. Didn’t really need to be loud honestly.

“I like the way you tease me, I like the way you squeeze me, I like the way you touch me,” you pressed both your palms on the headphone muffins closing your eyes the lyrics just flowing out your mouth. “I like the way you sex me.”

Your voice carried lots of emotions naturally, moving effortlessly through the melody. “Turn down the light baby, take off what you have on, let’s do it to the music, come bring your lovin on, my body’s yearnin for you baby, for a taste of your love. Only you can fill this appetite, come satisfy my love.”

Michael felt as if he was hearing an angel on earth, his eyes watching you the entire time you sang. You looked beautiful in his view, no. You looked breathtaking just like how your voice was breathtaking. You still didn’t look up from your notebook refusing to make any eye contact with Quincy or michael.

When you finally finished the first take, you opened your eyes. Quincy immediately pressed the talkback button. “That’s it.”

you smiled. “Good?”

“Very good.” He said putting his coffee cup on the table.

You looked toward the control room finally looking up, michael was still staring through the glass, he wasn’t staring at you in a weird way, more like he was genuinely fascinated and amazed by the sound he’d just heard. Quincy noticed, of course he noticed. He knew Michael since he was five years old he knew every emotion and expression on his face like the back of his hand.

“michael?” Quincy said which caused michael to blink snapping out of staring at you through the glass window. “Hm?” He said.

“You got somethin’ you want to say?” Quincy asked looking at michael turning his chair slightly towards him. Michael looked slightly embarrassed, he rubbed his hand on his neck his cheeks warming up.

“No i just…” he paused before finally found his words. “…her voice is really beautiful Q, I never heard something like that before it’s….wonderful y’know.” He looked at Quincy.

You were too busy looking over your notes to overhear what was just said about you, flipping through all the pages and scribbled notes you took down on almost five full sheets of paper. Your hand tapping against your thigh singing a few words lowly.

Quincy leaned back in his chair with a knowing grin, he looked at you behind the glass then his eyes went back to michael. “She’s gonna go places somewhere with a voice like that,” he picked up his coffee cup taking a sip.

Michael nodded his eyes, eyes going to the floor too shy to say anything or even too shy to the point he’d be scared you’ll overhear. “yeah…she definitely will.” He muttered under his breath.

Quincy sighed and pressed the talkback button. “You ready?” You looked up from your notes giving him a thumbs up giving him a confirmation. And the next track began playing through the speakers, Michael quietly turned his attention back toward the booth.

The instrumental started rolling through the speakers again. You adjusted your headphones glancing toward Quincy through the glass. “Same thing?” You asked.

“Same thing,” he confirmed. “But this time, don’t think about the notes, just feel it.” He gave an example with his hand like an ocean wave.

You nodded as the music started to begin. “baby tonight, the loving is right you know how I like it, you know how I want it.”

You continued singing getting through the rest of the verses, you vocals were amazing. Michael remained in the control room, sitting quietly beside the console. He had originally planned on staying for only a little while but the longer you recorded the more interested he became in what you and Quincy were building with this song.

There was something different about your voice, it wasn’t simply that you could sing. Plenty of people could sing. You made the lyrics sound like they meant something.

“Come on baby, don’t you hold back on me, give me everything you’ve got, you know I wanna give you all my lovin, it will be good to the last drop.”

“I like the way you kiss me, I like way you squeeze me, I like the way you hold me tight, I like the way you touch me, I like it when you love me right baby, I like the way you sex me, making love all through the night baby.” You continued singing, your voice slightly faltering a bit.

Quincy noticed it, course he did but he continued letting you sing for a few more minutes.

“Come on, come on baby, I like the way you squeeze me, hold me tight, I like the way you touch me, taking your time, I like the way you see me, come on, come on baby.”

“Give me your love, I like the way you squeeze me, all that I want, I like the way you touch me, and taking your time.” You finished the song, you let it fade naturally. Silence filled the entire room.

Then Quincy slowly leaned forward the talkback microphone. “Again.” He said

You immediately pulled the side of the headphones away from your ear getting slightly frustrated. “Again?” You asked sucking your teeth.

“Again.” He said once again.

“Q-“

“Trust me on this, just do the last part again… more emotion, more feeling, let it flow out.” He said talking into the microphone.

You sighed dramatically rolling your eyes and putting your headphones back on. The track began again. You started singing again pressing your palms on both sides of your headsets. “come on, come baby, I like the way you squeeze me, hold me tight, I like the way you touch me, taking your time, I like the way you sex me, come on, come on baby.” You sang the part again with more emotion than the last time, it sounded beautiful like extremely better than the last time.

When the final note ended, nobody spoke for several seconds. Quincy pressed the button. “That’s the one.”

You smiled your frustration fading away. “Thank God.” You stepped out the booth taking the headphones off and setting them down to the side. You walked toward the console and dropped into the chair beside quincy. “We done now?” You asked.

“Almost.”

Michael was still nearby, quietly listening to the playback, when your vocals came through the speakers again for a preview of how you did inside the booth. The studio became full of chatter and laughter about how good you did. When the “come on, come on baby,” part came on you smiled nodding your head looking at Quincy. “That’s that shit right there.” You laughed.

While everyone else was too busy talking your focus shifted towards a certain someone beside you. You turned your rolling chair spinning towards him, “hello to you.” You smiled looking at Michael.

He looked at you almost shocked that you were talking to him, someone as beautiful as you were talking to him?, was he dreaming?, he stayed silent for a minute blinking his wide eyes. Then he snapped out of it. “oh uh…hi” he said softly chuckling a bit at his nervousness.

You giggled at his shyness finding it cute that you had thee Michael Jackson blushing over you. “How are you?” You started off with something casual trying your hardest not to scare him off or anything. “why are you at the studio so late? Thought a superstar like you should be sleeping or somethin.” You said.

“I’m fine,” he said completely avoiding eye contact with you. He shifted in his seat, his gaze fixing firmly on the lit-up mix console as if the lit dials were the most fascinating thing in the room. A subtle blush crept up the back of his neck, contrasting with the cool, effortless superstar aura he usually projected.

You leaned your elbows on your knees, watching him with an amused smirk. "You sure about that, Michael? you seem a bit shy right now.”

That made him glance up at you for a split second, a soft, high-pitched chuckle spilling out before he looked down again. "No, no... it's not that," he insisted softly, his voice barely above a whisper. He fidgeted with the silver zipper on his jacket. "I just... I don't usually see people lay down vocals with that much heart on the very first try. You... you really mean what you sing. It's special, (Name)."

Hearing him say your name so casually sent a sudden jolt straight through your chest, but you kept your cool, tilting your head. "High praise coming from you," you said softly. "Thank you that really means a lot to me actually, especially coming from you oh my gosh my little sister would’ve fainted if she knew I was sitting in front of michael jackson." You said with a soft laugh.

Michael bit his lip, trying to hide a growing smile as he finally met your eyes. “I’m serious, you could go places with that voice of yours."

You giggled, loving the way he turned soft and flustered under your attention. "Well, aren't you a sweet talker," you said smoothly, rolling your chair just a tiny bit closer to his. "So... what keeps you up at three in the morning? Is it always music, or do you just like hanging out in studio control rooms at ridiculous hours?"

"A little bit of both," he said, easing up as a light spark entered his eyes. He leaned back in his chair, watching you carefully. "Music is always in my head, honestly. It never really turns off. But what about you?, did quincy also wake you at odd times of the night?”

"He absolutely did," you laughed, tossing your head back. "I was actually finally get rest then my phone just started ringing and now look where I’m at, finishing a song.”

He let out a genuine, beautiful laugh, his hand covering his mouth for a second. "I'm really glad you did," he murmured, his tone dropping into something surprisingly tender. "What do you like to do when you're not being dragged into the studio in the middle of the night?"

"uhh well i like cooking, i really enjoy makin’ food I also love just staying home and gardening," you said, holding his gaze with a warm smile. "What about you? Do you ever just get to be normal?…well I’m not asking in like an odd way y’know but it’s like you’ve been famous your whole life.”

"I try to," he said softy, looking deeply entertained by you. "I like watching old cartoons, drawing, buying books... simple things, really."

The two of you kept talking like that, completely tuning out the background noise of the studio. Quincy and the engineers were still chatting and adjusting levels in the back, but it felt like a total bubble had formed around the two of you. Michael's initial shyness started melting away into sweet, gentle flirting, his eyes locking onto yours as you swapped stories, jokes, and little secrets about your routines.

"Alright, night owls," Quincy’s loud voice suddenly broke through the atmosphere as he stretched his arms. "It's almost five in the morning. Driver's outside for you, sweetheart.”

You blinked, snapped back to reality. "Wait, already?" You glanced at the studio clock in disbelief. Time had completely flown by while talking to Michael.

"Duty calls," Quincy chuckled, giving your shoulder a affectionate pat before heading out toward the back lounge to pack up.

You stood up, grabbing your bag and smoothing down your sweatpants. Michael stood up right along with you, looking surprisingly hesitant to let the moment end. He rubbed the back of his neck, stepping a bit closer as you swung your bag over your shoulder.

"Leaving already?" he asked softly, looking down at you with a slight, hopeful smile.

"Duty calls, remember?" you teased softly, smiling up at him. "Unless you want Quincy calling me at two in the morning again tomorrow."

He chuckled, but his eyes held a subtle warmth as he reached into his jacket pocket, pulling out a small pen and a piece of scrap paper from the console.

"Before you go..." he began, looking up at you through his dark eyelashes with that same kind expression. "I was wondering... maybe I could get your number? So I don't have to go through Quincy every time I want to hear your voice."

Your heart did a little flutter, Michael jackson wanted your number?, what the fuck? "You want,” you pointed at yourself. “My number?”

He rubbed the back of his neck being shy again, he was never this used to just getting girls number himself he always had his trusted security bill do it for him but michael realized he was a grown ass man and as beautiful as you looked you deserved to be addressed directly by him. “y-yeah if that’s fine with you I don’t mean to make you uncomfo-“

“oh boy please I could literally faint right now, the hell do you mean uncomfortable.” you laughed. You took the pen from his hand, your fingers brushing lightly against his, sending a warm spark straight through you. You scribbled your home digits down onto the paper and handed it back to him.

He looked at the paper like it was pure gold, carefully folding it and slipping it into his pocket. "Thank you, (Name)" he whispered, stepping into your personal space.

"You're welcome," you said softly.

Without hesitating, you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, pulling him into a warm, genuine tight hug. Michael instantly wrapped his long arms around your waist, holding you close against him. He smelled intoxicatingly good a mix of fresh cologne and soft warmth. He squeezed you gently before slowly letting go, his hands lingering on your waist for just an extra second.

"Get some sleep, okay?" he murmured, giving you a beautiful, radiant smile.

"Only if you do the same," you smiled back, giving him one last playful look before turning toward the studio exit where your driver was waiting.

A month flew by in a blur of final mix approvals, photo shoots, and promo prep. Before you knew it, release day had arrived. Your debut single hit the radio waves, and the response was an absolute explosion.

Every time you turned on the radio, your vocals were blasting through the speakers. Record stores were putting up promotional posters, and Quincy’s vision had proven 100% right the track was an instant hit, soaring up the Billboard charts at a ridiculous pace. Critics were praising your vocal control, emotion, and presence, calling you the breakout female artist of 1985.

You were sitting on your living room floor surrounded by music magazines and charts, still trying to process the fact that your dream was officially coming true, when the phone rang again.

You picked it up, barely finishing your "Hello" before a loud, joyful voice filled the earpiece.

"Did I tell you or did I tell you?" Quincy’s voice boomed. "Top ten on the charts already! You're taking over!"

"I can't even believe it," you laughed, clutching the phone tightly. "Thank you for waking me up at two in the morning for this."

"Never doubt the master plan," Quincy chuckled. "Hold on a second, somebody here wants to congratulate you."

There was a brief shuffle on the line, the sound of the receiver changing hands, and then Michael’s voice came through, filled with genuine excitement and warmth.

"Hey, Congratulations!" he said softly, but you could hear the huge smile in his voice. "I saw the chart numbers today. I'm so, so proud of you.”

"Thank you, Michael," you said, feeling a warmth spread through your chest that had nothing to do with the chart positions and everything to do with him. "It feels completely surreal."

"You deserve every bit of it," Michael said softly, his voice dropping into that sweet, intimate tone he reserved just for you. "I told you that night in the studio... your voice is special. Now the whole world knows it too."

"Well, having you cheer me on from the start definitely helped," you teased playfully.

"I'm always in your corner," he replied gently without hesitation. "Actually... Q and I were thinking we should celebrate. Just a quiet dinner, away from all the noise. What do you think?"

You leaned against the wall, a playful smirk tugging at your lips. "Just Quincy and you? Or are you asking me out, Michael?"

There was a brief pause on the line, followed by a soft, flustered chuckle from Michael that sent your heart fluttering.

"Well... Q can come for the food," Michael murmured playfully, his shy charm shining through. "But I'm definitely asking you."

“well I’ll definitely like that.” You said smiling.

🏷️: @superstar-t20 @soleantoinette @curlypytclubx @peterpansdreamer @aloeveraaa333 @youluvyanni @leahmariieee @muchixo @sayyoulovemeziya @totallyavixxen @neverstreett @impala04 @prettygirlwmula @kisscoqueen @tojiswifeforlife @gingerrsnapp @crazylady20 @mrjacksonswh0ree @yesalphadawn @umafanficdoidaqualquer @theprincessh3rself @ryuoniii @btcilovemj @brxght-world @unknwnbrii @j-nae @michaelssidegyal @mrsfantastic @bawdylanguageee @kissmyglxck @arielletheemermaidd @oidloid @sweettaverntrophy @whimsybunnii @xenni @scccm0182 @ibelieveinmpreg @vvvolatilee @mel4ninduchess @savagenctzen @melodiesmurakamis @lovingyeet @plan3tch1ld @michaeltrapson156 @prettygurljo @alientee @saints4record @apyr-b-mockbe @bellalovessxo @w1ckedp1nk

❛ 𝗙𝗥𝗬 𝗛𝗜𝗦 𝗦𝗛𝗜. 𓂋 ❜

𐔌 ៸៸៸ 𝓦𝓒 ; 𝟔.𝟒k ꒱

❛❛ 𝑠ummary: 𓂋 𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗇𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗌𝗎𝗉𝗉𝗈𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝖿𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖻𝗋𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋'𝗌 𝗀𝗂𝗋𝗅𝖿𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗇𝖽. 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗇𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗌𝗎𝗉𝗉𝗈𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗄𝖾𝖾𝗉 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗅𝖾𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗌. 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗆𝗂𝖼𝗁𝖺𝖾𝗅 𝗁𝖺𝗌 𝖺𝗅𝗐𝖺𝗒𝗌 𝖻𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝗉𝖾𝗋𝗌𝗂𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗇𝗍, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝗌 𝖺𝗅𝗐𝖺𝗒𝗌 𝖻𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝖿𝖺𝗋 𝗆𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝖺𝖿𝖿𝖾𝖼𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝖻𝗒 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗇 𝗌𝗁𝖾'𝖽 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝖺𝖽𝗆𝗂𝗍. ❜❜ 𝑚𝑖𝑐ℎ𝑎𝑒𝑙 𝑗 𝑥 𝐽𝑎𝑐𝑘𝑖𝑒 𝐽𝑎𝑐𝑘𝑠𝑜𝑛'𝑠 𝐺𝑖𝑟𝑙𝑓𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑛𝑑!𝑅𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟

ᜊ ๑ ۪ ࣪ 𝖾𝗋𝖺: 𝟣𝟫𝟩𝟪 — / 𝗃𝖺𝖼𝗄𝗌𝗈𝗇𝗌 𝖾𝗋𝖺 · ❛❛ 𝓛os Angeles, 𝓒alifornia · 𝓗ayvenhurst · 𝓔ncino. ❜❜

♥︎ 𝟏𝟗𝟕𝟖. 𝑙𝑜𝑠 𝐴𝑛𝑔𝑒𝑙𝑒𝑠, 𝐶𝑎𝑙𝑖𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑎. The first letter arrived on a Tuesday afternoon, tucked between a department-store catalogue and a handful of bills she had no interest in opening.There was nothing remarkable about the envelope itself. Cream-colored paper. Her name written neatly across the front. No return address. No indication of where it had come from. She knew anyway. Michael's handwriting had become familiar to her long before she had ever given herself permission to study it.

There was a certain looseness to the way he formed his letters, the occasional flourish at the end of a word, the places where his pen seemed to hesitate before continuing. He wrote as though his thoughts moved faster than his hand could keep up with them. She had seen the same handwriting in notes passed around the house, on scraps of paper left beside records, on little reminders he'd written for himself and promptly forgotten about.

(big fish fishing around, circa '2000s)

this clip makes me wanna suck his tongue into my mouth and rub against him like a dog.

he takes it slow at night cause it helps you sleep better. a grown woman's lullaby !!

only NyQuil I need and with that being said I have a fucking idea !!!