✦

mel | she/her, requests open.

[koofete]

𐙚 ‧ welcome!

ㅤׂ 🧺ྀིྀིྀིྀིྀི m.list. 🧇

[lullora]

— EXPOSURE

michael literally just can’t put the camera down while you’re infront of it

WARNING: sexual themes (18+)

WORD COUNT: 1.2k

NOTE: sorry i’ve been MIA i’m literally so unmotivated to write rn y’all. i’ll be away for a week or so but will hopefully have dissolved girl out next weekend. love you all hope you enjoy 🤍

Michael stood there, his lower lip snagging between his teeth whilst you remained in the centre of the room, barefoot on the floor, simply watching him adjust the camera on the tripod with a meticulous attention he gave to everything.

His fingers moved over the lens, checking the aperture, the focus, the angle, as if he were preparing for something sacred.

He straightened and turned to look at you. His eyes did that thing they always did when he saw you in something new, going dark at the edges yet soft at the center, like he was memorizing you all over again.

“Start with the red one,” he spoke, almost in a demand, gesturing toward the dress draped over the chair. “The one with the neckline.”

You reached for the dress, a deep crimson thing that fell off the shoulders and clung to every curve like it had been painted on. You stepped behind the changing screen, slipped out of your robe and pulled the dress over your head. The fabric settled against your skin like a second layer, cool and heavy. You took a breath, steadying yourself and stepped out.

Michael was already behind the camera, one eye pressed to the viewfinder, his hand resting on the shutter release. He looked up when you appeared and the sound he made was somewhere between a groan and a laugh, a low, appreciative noise that vibrated through the air between you.

“Goddamn, baby…” he breathed, shaking his head slowly. “Look at you.”

You felt the heat rise to your cheeks, but you held his gaze, letting him look. He gestured with one finger for you to turn and you did, slowly, feeling the fabric shift against your thighs, the hem brushing just above your knees.

“Stop there,” he spoke, his voice firmer now. “Look back at me over your shoulder, just like that baby. Don't move.”

The click of the shutter was sharp and satisfying. The flash caught you mid-glance and you felt exposed in the best way, like he was seeing something no one else ever had.

“Again.” He murmured and you heard the film advance, that soft whir that meant he was ready for more. “Bite your lip, baby.”

“Like this?” You asked, demonstrating the motion.

“Oh yeah. Just like that.” Click!

You turned to face him fully and he lowered the camera just enough to meet your eyes over the top of it. The look he gave you was pure hunger, pure possession, pure want. He didn't try to hide it because he never did with you.

“Now the black one,” he continued. There was no question in his voice, only direction. “The skirt and nothing else.”

You changed again, this time into a black silk skirt that sat high on your waist and fell just past your hips, paired with nothing but the thin chain you always wore around your neck. When you stepped out, his breath caught audibly and he set the camera down for a moment, just to look at you with his own eyes, no lens between you.

“Come here,” he whispered softly and you walked to him, the skirt swishing around your thighs with each step. He reached out, his fingers brushing your hip, tracing the line of the fabric where it met your skin. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

“Show me,” you responded with a playful grin as the corner of his mouth lifted in that half-smile that always made your stomach flip.

He picked the camera back up and lifted it to his eye. “Turn around. Hands on the wall. Arch your back.”

You obeyed him, because you always did, pressing your palms flat against the cool plaster, curving your spine, letting the skirt ride up just a little. You heard the shutter click, then again, then again, each shot capturing a different angle, a different sliver of skin, a different shadow.

“Spread your legs a little wider,” he said, his voice dropping lower. “Just a little. Fuck yeah. Perfect.”

Click.

You stayed there, feeling his gaze on you even when the camera wasn't clicking, feeling the weight of his attention like a physical thing.

“Okay, now the lingerie.”

You turned and he was watching you with that dark, patient hunger that made your knees weak. You walked to the chair where you had laid out the set you'd chosen for him, a delicate thing of black lace and sheer mesh, more air than fabric, more suggestion than coverage. You took your time changing, letting him hear the rustle of fabric, letting him imagine what was happening behind the screen.

When you stepped out, you were wearing only the lace, the bra barely holding you, your breasts practically spilling out of the cups. The panties riding high on your hips, the garter belt trailing ribbons down your thighs. Michael's hand went still on the camera. He didn't lift it to his eye, but simply stood there, looking at you with his lips parted, breathing shallow.

“Jesus Christ,” he whispered and it sounded like a prayer. “God you drive me crazy, y’know that?”

He lifted the camera slowly, as if in a trance and pressed his eye to the viewfinder. “Touch your collarbone,” he said, practically eye-fucking you through the camera. “C’mon baby trace it. Slow.”

You did, your fingers trailing along the bone, dipping into the hollow of your throat and the shutter clicked like a heartbeat.

“Now your lips. Just the tip of your finger.”

Flash.

“That’s my girl… now look at me like you want me to ruin you.”

You held his gaze, let your lips part, let your eyes go heavy-lidded, let every ounce of want you felt for him show on your face. The shutter clicked once, twice, three times in rapid succession.

He lowered the camera, setting it down on the bed before walking to you. His hands found your hips first, his fingers pressing into the soft flesh above the lace, turning you, positioning you exactly where he wanted you. He stepped back, picked the camera up again and looked through the lens.

“Arch your back,” He said and you did. He reached out with one hand to guide you, his palm flat against your lower back, pressing just enough to make you curve deeper. His hand slid up your spine, over the lace, until his fingers brushed the clasp of your bra.

“Look at me,” he said, and the shutter clicked.

His hand moved from your back to your front, cupping your breast through the lace, squeezing gently, shaping the flesh as if he were sculpting you. The shutter clicked again, capturing the moment his thumb brushed over your nipple, the lace rough against the sensitive skin.

“Spread your legs,” he demanded. Michael knelt in front of you, the camera at his eye, capturing the way the lace stretched across your thighs, the shadow between your legs, the ribbons of the garter trailing down. He reached out with his free hand, his fingers brushing the inside of your thigh and you shivered.

“Look at you,” he murmured, more to himself than to you. “So beautiful. So goddamn beautiful.”

🏷️; @ladybugg0rl @mjjspyt @angellicbaby @1sleepymoon1 @buttismine @michealsbabydoll @artflooo @shell1986 @ilovehaydenchristens @michaelbaby15 @17wishesx @appihead @ebvnydesires @kkhya @coornballz @flygirldiary @corneliascore @mrsjacksonnnnnn @httpsvivi @plqnetkiyaa @jinx-gf @youreaangel @kundere20000000 @sagasreads @soooooooanxious @mjlvr-25 @lelewright1234 @sqrixm @nuevenus @delicate-ray-of-sunshine @bluegangstaaaa @californiawhoo @gogoyubari888 @serenexteen @veraberaxx @vinylbee @cafe-lectura @bunnimike @vinylang3l @iwannarockwu @theprincessh3rself @kineticraidergladiator @abrokennbottletop @thebaddestfish @liberiangirl7 @pleasethequeen @evetheegoonette @lovingyou4sho @bluugangsta @swavydadon @glitterqueen123

[kkgalerii]

look at me, baby. 𐙚🧸ྀི

⊹ ࣪ ˖ ໒꒱ description: a rainy night takes an unexpected turn when michael stumbles across your secret toy. what starts as a tense, quiet confession quickly turns into an intense lesson in desire. suddenly, waiting isn't as easy as it used to be.

content: 18+, smut, established relationship, fluff, usage of sex toys, religious michael, otw!michael, my mind is so nasty lmao, not proofread…so if yall see sum, no yall don’t…

۶ৎ the storm outside was unrelenting, the heavy downpour beating a steady, rhythmic thrum against your apartment windowpane. inside, everything was warm and isolated. minnie riperton was playing low on the turntable, the soft needle pops blending into the sound of the rain.

you were sitting on the edge of the sink counter, setting out small glass bottles, while michael leaned against the doorframe, a thick white headband holding back his soft curls. he was watching your hands with absolute, intense concentration as you prepped your skin.

"so wait... you gotta put that liquid stuff on first?" michael asked, tilting his head with wide doe eyes. "before we put the face masks on?"

"yeah, baby," you chuckled softly, lifting the glass bottle to show him. "this is the toner. it balances your skin and cleans off whatever the soap missed so the face mask can actually do its job."

"hmm," michael hummed, stepping closer to inspect the bottle. "i wanna learn it all. show me how to do it. i gotta keep my skin right for these studio sessions this week... quincy’s got me under those bright lights all day."

"well, if you wanna do it right, i need a couple of cotton pads," you smiled, turning to look for the plastic sleeve on the counter before realizing it was empty. "oh, shoot... without even thinking, i left the backup pack in my bedroom."

"where in the bedroom?" michael asked, already turning toward the doorway, his socked feet making no sound against the tile.

"they're right in my nightstand drawer, baby. top one, right in the front."

"top drawer, got it," michael said smoothly, padding down the short hallway into the dim light of your room.

you turned back to the mirror, uncapping the bottle and humming along to the vinyl playing in the living room, completely oblivious to what was resting in that drawer right beside your spare skincare backups.

and then, the entire apartment went dead, suffocatingly quiet.

stepping out into the bedroom, you found him standing rigid by the bed, staring wide-eyed into the open drawer. sitting right beside your spare lotions was your seven-inch realistic dildo. michael stood completely shocked, his jaw slightly open, trying to form words that just wouldn't come out. the silence alone told you everything he had seen.

you hurried over and slammed the drawer shut, grabbing the cotton pads off the top and trying to convince him to come back to the bathroom to finish like nothing had happened. but michael just stood there dead in his tracks, his expression completely unreadable, his chest rising and falling in shallow, uneven breaths.

then, he murmured out so quietly, his voice raspy over the storm. "are you—are you not satisfied in our relationship?"

you could see the deep worry on his face, almost as if he’d been physically hurt by the sight.

you let out a soft sigh, putting the cotton pads down on the nightstand before sitting right on the side of the bed, looking up at his tall, frozen frame. "yes baby, i’m happy. so very happy with you."

michael slowly raised his long hands, rubbing his face tiredly before looking back down at you. "mama, i asked if you were satisfied. not happy."

you sighed, completely unable to lie to his handsome face and big, searching doe eyes. "it’s not that i’m unsatisfied… i just have personal needs, baby."

michael hummed softly and nodded, his hand moving up to nervously pick at his afro, a habit he fell into whenever his mind was racing. "but i thought we agreed we weren’t ready to have— to go all the way."

you readjusted nervously on the mattress, nodding slowly. "yes baby, i know what i agreed to. and i meant it. michael, if you aren’t ready, then you aren’t ready, and i’m okay with that."

michael sighed heavily, his shoulders slumping. "clearly you aren’t... now that you’re using a toy instead of me." he frowned, his dark eyes fixed on the carpet.

"well baby, i know where you stand on sex," you said softly, reaching out to gently grab his long hands, pulling him closer until he was standing right in front of you between your knees. "you’ve told me it all, about how you’d like to wait till marriage or whenever you’re ready. i’d never force you to do anything just for my pleasure. i love you, michael."

a thick, heavy quiet settled over the room, filled only by the rhythmic drumming of rain against the window and the faint, distant crackle of the vinyl turntable in the living room.

michael didn't say anything right away. he stood there with his jaw tightly set, his chest rising and falling in deep, slow breaths as he searched your face. you could see the war playing out behind his big doe eyes—the deep-rooted shyness, the weight of his upbringing, and the overwhelming desire to just be everything you needed.

slowly, the sharp tension in his shoulders began to thaw. his thumb smoothed over the back of your knuckles in a slow, rhythmic circle, his touch softening from hesitant to deliberate.

"yeah... well, now i’m jealous," he joked softly.

you chuckled to yourself, breaking the heavy tension. "no need to be, i always imagine it’s you anyways."

michael’s big eyes went wide at your vulgar comment. "wow, that’s… sexy," he whispered, saying the word like it was a swear word he wasn't supposed to utter out loud. "tell me more, mama. i wanna know what i been missin' out on."

he moved closer, sitting beside you on the bed. you scooted your back up against the headboard, pulling your knees up, while he remained on the side of the bed, gently rubbing your leg through your nightgown.

the rain kept beating steady against the glass, but inside the room, the air had turned thick and still. michael’s long fingers trailing light, feather-soft circles along the side of your leg. his big dark eyes didn't leave yours for a single second.

"so..." michael whispered, his voice dropping low, almost hesitant. "when you're layin' here by yourself... what actually goes through your head, mama? walk me through it."

michael let out a quiet breath, looking down at your joined hands before bringing one of them up to his lips, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your knuckles.

"i just... i hate thinkin' about you layin' here alone, mama," he murmured, his voice dropping into a thick, low husk that made your heart do a quiet flip. "i thought i was protectin' you, but the thought of another thing—some object—givin' you what i should be givin' you... it drives me crazy."

he shifted closer, on the edge of the mattress until his knee was pressed flush against yours. the vulnerability in his eyes slowly shifted into an intense, quiet curiosity that made the air in the bedroom feel instantly warmer.

you took a slow breath, feeling a sudden wave of heat rush up your neck. "it's... usually on nights after you drop me off. after our dates."

"after our dates?" michael echoed softly, tilting his head. a faint, curious brow raised above those wide doe eyes. "what about our dates makes you go open that drawer?"

"just you, michael," you admitted quietly, shifting your hips slightly against the sheets.

"i come home, and the apartment is so quiet, but my head is still spinning. i'm thinking about the way you looked at me across the table. the way your hand felt wrapped around mine while you were driving... or how your voice sounds when you lean in real close to whisper somethin' in my ear before you leave."

michael’s breath caught sharply in his throat. his thumb stilled on your leg for a split second, pressing a tiny bit firmer into your skin before continuing its slow, rhythmic stroke.

"you... you really lay here thinkin' about my voice?" he murmured, leaning a fraction of an inch closer, entirely captivated.

"mhm," you hummed, your breath growing a little shallow as the memory settled in your chest. "i lay right here in the dark, and i pull the covers up... and i think about what it would feel like if you didn't leave. if you stayed."

"and then what?" michael asked, his voice dropping another octave into a smooth, thick hush. he leaned in so close you could feel the soft warmth radiating off his face. "tell me every detail, mama. don't skip nothin'."

"i reach into the nightstand," you whispered, uncrossing your legs slowly, letting your knees fall open just a little wider as a sudden, restless ache began to pulse between your thighs. "i grab the toy... but when i touch myself with it, i don't think about silicone. i pretend it's your long fingers...or just you."

michael swallowed hard, the sound sharp in the quiet room. his eyes widened, a deep, dark intensity swirling in his pupils as he listened. "you pretend it's my hands on you?"

"yes, baby," you whined softly, your chest rising and falling fast now. "i close my eyes and I imagine your weight on top of me. i imagine you holdin' my wrists down against the pillow, pressing your mouth right against mine..."

"gosh..." michael whispered, his breath completely hitching as he stared at your parted lips. "i had no idea... i didn't know you wanted me like that."

"i want you all the time, michael," you breathed out, your voice trembling as your body subtly twitched, a quiet gasp slipping past your lips at the sheer thought of it. "i lay here and i slide it in real slow... and all i can do is moan your name into the dark. michael... oh, michael..."

michael’s eyes tracking the subtle flush spreading across your chest and down your neck. he saw the way your legs shifted nervously, the way your breath hitched every time you spoke his name, your body visibly growing warm and needy right in front of him.

he shifted his weight, moving his hand from your knee up to the warm, soft skin of your inner thigh, his long fingers pressing in just enough to anchor you there.

"looks like you want it right now," he spoke softly, the words sliding out smooth, deliberate, and undeniably bold.

you were surprised at his sudden words. "michael… baby…"

"shhh," he hushed you softly.

leaning forward, he caught your lips in a warm kiss, whispering against your mouth. "i hate that i can’t please you the way you need."

you just kissed him deeper in response, hands resting on his chest, before mumbling, "s’okay baby. i understand. i’ll wait for you."

michael’s hands began to ride up your legs gently, feeling the warmth of your skin beneath your nightgown as he continued to kiss you, trailing his lips to your jaw.

"i hate how bad i wanna be inside you, but just can’t," he murmured against your skin.

you breathed deeply as michael whispered in your ear, his long fingers rubbing your thighs, turning you on so fast your head was spinning.

"you teasin’ me baby…don’t do that," you whispered against his lips while gently holding his face.

michael pulled away slightly, looking you right in the eye with a fierce, quiet intensity. "maybe i can do somethin’ bout it this time."

eyeing your expression for any doubt, he shifted his body and leaned over back into the drawer, pulling out the dildo. you gasped at how naughty he was being, having never seen this side of him before.

"baby, what are you doin—" you tried to speak, but michael just cut you off with a deep, heavy kiss, his tongue exploring your mouth and stealing your breath away. you whimper against him, pulling his warm body closer by the shoulders.

"you said you think about me kissin’ you, huh?" his lips left yours, trailing down to gently peck along your throat. "all down here?"

you moaned out desperately, clenching his white t-shirt, balling the fabric into your fist needily. "mhm... yes..."

"you think about me touching you all over? like this, mama?" he questioned, pulling back to hold eye contact intensely.

his hands were now roaming your body, reaching up under your nightgown to gently stroke your tummy before moving up to caress your breasts. you bit your lip at this sudden burst of sexual intensity. his long fingers tugged at the strap of your nightgown, pulling it down, exposing your breasts to the cool air.

"you imagine me kissing you right here baby?" he wondered softly.

his long, slender fingers grasped the plump roundness of your breasts, lifting you gently before his lips met the thick hardness of your nipples.

you moaned out, your head falling back against the headboard, hips bucking up begging for something… just something. the lingering thought of his religious stance lingered in the back of your mind as he licked and sucked softly.

"i get those feelings too," he whimpered against your breasts, his breath hot against your skin. "that need to feel you, to hold you close and feel that warmth… and wetness."

your hands tangled in his afro gently as you felt his warm tongue working over your sensitive skin. "i just know it’s so unholy for me," he whispered, almost to himself. "it feels so forbidden mama."

"then baby, why you feelin’ on me so good like this?" you whined, desperate for any kind of pleasure, knowing actual sex was unlikely.

he pulled back from the kiss, his lips hovering right over yours teasingly. "cause you deserve it… mama. y’been holdin’ back for so long. just for me."

you gently rubbed his cheekbone with your thumb, pulling back with a softened expression. "i’d never wanna rush you baby."

michael leaned back in for another kiss before mumbling, "i know sweetheart, and that’s why you deserve it most."

before you could even react, you felt something hard pressed up against your clothed warmth. you gasped, feeling the firm pressure against your clit. half of you wished it wasn’t the toy, and the other half wished it was really michael.

looking down, you saw michael gently moving the dildo up and down your core over your panties, grinding it slowly. before you could speak, his free hand took you by the chin, pulling you to meet his eyes.

"no baby. look at me. feel me," he directed softly, pressing the toy down harder in a slower, torturous grind. he leaned forward, kissing your neck and whispering sweet, filthy promises into your skin.

you begged him not to tease, writhing under his touch. seeing your desperation, michael reached down and pulled your panties down your legs, throwing them aside, completely in love with the sight of you bare and wet for him.

resting the warm, smooth tip right against your wet opening, he paused just to meet your gaze. then, with a slow and deliberate tilt of his wrist, he slid the dildo all the way into you, letting out a soft breath as he set a steady, intoxicating pace.

"look at me," he murmured, keeping his eyes locked onto yours as he established a steady rhythm. with every deep glide of the toy, he talked you through it, his voice low and heavy as he described precisely how he’d take you if it were his own body. his grip stayed firm, anchoring you to the mattress with each smooth stroke.

slowing down, he whispered right into your ear, "this is how slow i’d go when holding you close..." while he kissed down your neck.

and then speeding up, his wrist moving faster, "and this is how fast i’d go, when you keep making noises like that for me."

"look at me, mama," he reminded you continuously, his voice commanding yet infinitely tender. "keep your eyes on me, not the toy. imagine it's me. tell me who's touching you."

"you... it's you, baby," you whimpered, completely lost in his dark eyes and the steady push of his hand.

michael leaned in close, his heavy gaze never leaving yours for even a second. his wrist kept a steady, torturous rhythm, sliding the smooth length deep into your warmth before drawing it back out to the sensitive entrance, only to push right back in.

"that's right, mama," he whispered, his deep voice carrying a quiet authority that made your core pulse tightly around the toy. "i want you to keep lookin' at me. don't look down, don't look away. keep your eyes right here."

"michael... oh god, it feels so good," you gasped, your fingers digging into the cotton of his shirt, your hips rising up off the mattress to meet every deliberate thrust.

"i know it does," he murmured, his thumb moving to gently stroke your cheekbone, wiping away a stray bead of sweat. "i hear the way you're breathin' for me. i feel how tight and wet you're wrapped around this... but you're not gonna rush it. not yet."

you whimpered, feeling the intense coil tightening dangerously fast in your stomach. "baby, please... i'm so close—"

"shhh, hold on for me," michael hushed softly. you were right on the very edge, your whole core coiling tight, ready to snap—when suddenly, michael pulled the toy clean out of you.

a loud, desperate gasp tore from your chest at the sudden emptiness. "michael! wait, no— baby, please!"

"shhh," michael hushed softly, his voice dark and smooth as velvet. he placed the smooth handle of the dildo right into your trembling palm, closing your long fingers tightly around it. "i wanna see you do it."

you looked up at him through heavy, blurred eyes, panting hard.

"what baby?” you questioned, clearly taken aback, as the pleasure lingered in your lower stomach.

"you heard me, mama," he whispered, shifting his body until he was hovering directly over you, his knees slotted firmly between your thighs, pressing his full weight down against you. "you do it for me every night when i'm not here, right? so show me. put it back in."

your hand was shaking so bad you could barely guide it, but with his heavy dark gaze locked onto yours, you slowly lined the tip back up and slid the smooth length back inside yourself. a long, shuddering moan escaped your lips.

"gosh, look at you," michael rasped, his breath hot against your neck as he leaned down, taking your mouth in a deep, heavy kiss.

while your hand worked the toy inside yourself, michael completely took over the rest of your body. he shifted his hips, pressing his weight down right between your thighs, grinding down against your core so you could feel the massive, firm shape of him straining through his trousers. it felt so real—so heavy and solid—it was almost like he was actually inside you.

"mmph... michael," you sobbed into his mouth, your wrist trying to find a fast rhythm, but he reached down, his long fingers wrapping tightly over your hand on the toy, slowing your pace down to an agonizing, deep glide.

"not yet," he commanded against your lips, trailing his mouth down to your jaw, sucking a dark, wet mark into the soft skin of your throat. "go deep, mama. just like that... slide it all the way in."

his free hand roamed up your body, squeezing your breasts gently before his lips tracked down to take your nipple into his mouth, licking and sucking wet friction into your skin while your hand kept moving under his steady guidance.

between the wet heat of his mouth on your chest, his heavy hips grinding against your thighs, and the silicone sliding deep inside you, your mind went completely blank.

you felt a sudden, intense wave of heat build deep in your core—so sharp and overwhelming that your whole body twitched, a sudden, wet gush spilling out around the toy and coating his long fingers.

you gasped out loud, thoroughly embarrassed. "oh god, michael— i'm sorry, i—"

"don't you dare apologize," michael growled softly into your skin, his eyes blowing out wide and dark as he felt the hot wetness soaking his hand.

it sent a visible shock straight through him, his chest heaving as he stared down at how completely undone you were for him. "that's so pretty... you're doing so damn good for me, mama."

he pressed his hips down harder, grinding against you with a slow, relentless tilt that made your head throw back against the headboard.

"now move your wrist faster," he instructed softly into your ear, his breath scorching hot. "don't stop. picture me right here, holding your wrists, taking everything you got."

"i can't— michael, i'm gonna—" you choke out, as you desperately trembled at every wave of pleasure surging throughout your body.

"i know you are," he whispered, his voice dripping with quiet authority as he captured your lips in one final, deep kiss, his hand speeding your wrist up until the movement was a frantic, blurring friction. "let go for me, mama. do it right now. let go. don't hold nothin' back. let me see how good it feels when you're thinkin' about me."

that last, deliberate push pushed you completely over the edge.

a high, helpless cry tore from your throat as your entire core clamped down tight around the toy. wave after wave of intense, shuddering pleasure crashed through your body, making your back arch off the bed and your legs tremble uncontrollably against his sides.

"yes, mama... just like that," michael whispered softly, his own breath hitching as he watched your face undo completely. he slowed his hand to a long, gentle glide, encouraging your wrist to continue plunging the toy deep inside you to ride out every last pulse of your release. "i got you. i got you, baby..."

you sobbed out his name, completely overwhelmed, hiding your flushed face in the crook of his neck as the sweet, lingering waves finally started to settle.

the intense, heavy mood in the room snapped the second your breathing finally slowed down.

michael carefully pulled the toy free, setting it aside on the nightstand with the absolute extreme caution of someone handling live dynamite. he immediately pulled you into his arms, tugging the heavy blanket all the way up to your shoulders.

for a long moment, you both just lay there in the quiet. your head was resting against his chest, listening to his heart beating a mile a minute.

then, a quiet, muffled giggle escaped his throat.

you raised your head slightly, looking up at him. michael was staring straight up at the ceiling, his cheeks flushed bright red, a massive, goofy grin spread across his face.

"what?" you murmured, a tiny smile tugging at your own lips.

"nothin'," michael said quickly, his voice cracking just a little bit before he let out a full, breathy laugh. he covered his face with one long hand, shaking his head against the pillow. "gosh... i can't believe i just did that."

"you were pretty smooth, mr. jackson," you

teased gently, poking his ribs through his white shirt. "where did all of that suddenly come from?"

michael wheezed, curling up slightly away from your poking finger. "stop! don't tease me, mama, i was tryin' real hard to be serious for you!"

"oh, you were serious," you chuckled, leaning up on one elbow to look down at his flustered face. "you were ordering me around! 'look at me, mama, keep your eyes on me.'"

"hey!" michael gasped, his big doe eyes widening as he pulled his hands away from his face to swat playfully at your arm. "i was being attentive! you said you wanted me to talk to you!"

"you sounded like a whole boss," you giggled, resting your chin on his chest. "i didn't know you had that in you."

"well... i gotta make sure i'm doin' a good job," he mumbled, a proud little smirk replacing his bashful look. he reached up, gently tucking a stray lock of hair behind your ear, his thumb brushing your cheek. "did i? do a good job?"

"you did amazing, baby," you soft-smiled, leaning down to press a sweet kiss to the tip of his nose. "ten out of ten."

"good," michael hummed, looking thoroughly pleased with himself as he wrapped his arms tightly around your waist, pulling you back down against his chest. "cause i am not losing to a piece of silicone in that drawer ever again."

you wiggled a bit, getting ready to sit up and tug him by the hand. "alright, mister. come on, let’s go back to the bathroom and finish those face masks before they dry into cement on our faces."

you made a move to toss the blanket off, but michael’s hand darted out, his long fingers wrapping around your wrist with a sudden, surprisingly firm tug that pulled you right back down onto the mattress.

"woah, hold on," he said quickly, his voice pitching up an octave.

"what?" you laughed, turning back to face him. "what's the hold up?"

that’s when you noticed his cheeks were burning a bright, dusty crimson, all the way to the tips of his ears. he was holding his lower half completely stiff, looking like a deer caught in the headlights.

your gaze naturally dropped down past his hands, and your eyes went wide. straining hard against the front of his trousers was a massive, unmistakable bulge—one that was noticeably thicker and longer than the toy sitting on the nightstand.

michael gasped softly when he caught you looking. in a sudden flash of panic, he snatched the big floral throw pillow off the bed and slammed it right over his lap, hugging it against himself like a shield.

"don't—don't look down there!" he squeaked out, hiding his face behind the edge of the pillow.

you couldn't help it; a loud, breathless laugh burst right out of you. "michael!"

"i'm fine!" he mumbled quickly from behind the cushion, his voice muffled and thoroughly mortified. "i'm totally fine, mama, really! it's... it just does that sometimes! it's a natural reaction!"

"baby, that pillow isn't hiding anything," you giggled, leaning over and trying to tug the corner of the cushion. "you look like you're carrying a whole extra package in your pants!"

"stop it!" michael groaned, wheezing with laughter while desperately holding onto the pillow for dear life. "leave me alone! i was tryin' to be a gentleman and now you're making fun of me!"

"i'm not making fun of you!" you laughed, resting your chin on his chest, looking up at his dark, timid eyes peeking over the top of the floral cushion. "i'm actually pretty impressed."

michael flushed an even deeper shade of red, a shy, proud little grin tugging at the corners of his lips despite his utter embarrassment. "yeah? well... don't get used to it. i'm staying right here under this blanket until next week."

"fair enough," you smiled, feeling a huge wave of warmth and affection wash over your chest.

you stopped teasing him, leaning up to press a soft, sweet kiss right onto his warm cheek. instead of pulling him up to the bathroom, you just slid back down beside him under the heavy duvet, wrapping your arms securely around his waist and resting your head over his heart.

"we can do the masks tomorrow," you whispered softly into his shirt.

michael let out a long, relieved breath, letting the pillow drop as his arms wrapped tightly around you, pulling you in close.

"good," he mumbled, resting his chin on top of your head with a sweet, sleepy chuckle. "cause i wasn't plannin' on standing up anytime soon anyway."

[kkgalerii]

⋆˚࿔ visual learner ;1979 - michael jackson

𑣲. description: you tutor your student, michael through his math homework, but the session gets heated with kisses and touching. after a distracting make-out session, you refocus and he proudly solves the final problem with your guidance.

content: 18+, smut, making out, dry-ish humping, cunnilingus, sub!michael, inexperienced!michael, dom!reader, the term ‘mama’ is consistently used, YALL I HAD A BALL WRITING THIS ONE

𝜗𝜚⋆₊˚ the television hummed softly in the corner of the room, its light flickering across the cream-colored walls of hayvenhurst. some old comedy played in the background, forgotten almost as quickly as it spoke, reduced to nothing more than quiet laughter and moving shadows.

spread across michael’s bed were loose sheets of notebook paper, sharpened pencils, a calculator, and an algebra textbook that looked as though it had been opened only under protest.

michael sat cross-legged with his chin resting in his hand, eyebrows pulled together in concentration. across from him, you tapped the eraser of your pencil against the page before sliding it toward him.

“try it again.”

he sighed dramatically.

“i did.”

“no,” you smiled patiently, “you guessed.”he looked up at you with the most offended expression he could manage. “there’s a difference?”

“a very big one.” you said with a small smile. a laugh escaped him as he leaned back against the headboard, rubbing a hand over his face.

you had become somewhat of a quiet name around los angeles. despite only being nineteen, word traveled quickly whenever parents spoke to one another. if their child was failing mathematics, chemistry, english, or nearly anything else, someone always seemed to know your number.

you had spent years tutoring students from every corner of the city—children who dreaded homework, high school seniors desperate to pass exams, even college freshmen who admitted they needed help understanding lectures they’d been too embarrassed to ask about.

your age often surprised people, but it never took long before your patience, intelligence, and calm way of explaining things spoke louder than any résumé ever could. somehow, that reputation had eventually reached the jackson family. and now, here you were. tutoring michael jackson.

you pointed back to the equation. “what’s the first thing we do?”

“…cry?” he sighed. you couldn’t stop the laugh that escaped. “michael.”

“i’m serious.” he whined, clearly frustrated with the work in front of him. “you’re being dramatic.” you responded calmly.

“a little.” he admitted as he tapped his pencil on the paper. “a lot.” you groan. he smiled sheepishly before finally lowering his pencil to the paper.

“…parentheses first.” your voice spread through the room as your eyes stayed glued to the paper, watching him write. “good.”

“then exponents.” he spoke softly, eyebrows furrowed in slight confusion, although he was correct. “see?” you said, folding your arms. “you know more than you think.”

he glanced sideways at you with a grin. “only because you’ve made me do this three times.”

“and you’ll probably do it a fourth.” you giggle while running your fingers through your curls. he groaned loudly, letting his head fall backward onto the pillows as another burst of canned laughter echoed from the television.

for a moment, neither of you said anything. the room settled into a comfortable silence filled only with scribbling pencil lead, distant movie dialogue, and the occasional quiet chuckle whenever one of michael’s exaggerated complaints broke the concentration.

for someone who performed before thousands without fear, being corrected over algebra by a nineteen-year-old tutor somehow remained one of the most humbling parts of his week.

michael groans in frustration, bangs his head gently against the bed as he stares at the new problem in front of him. you're sitting cross legged next to him, both of you on his bed surrounded by textbooks and notepaper. "i don't get any of this…" he admits quietly, glancing over at you with those sad puppy eyes he gets when he's struggling.

you smile softly, noticing his frustration. "hey, it's okay," you say gently, closing the textbook and setting it aside. "let's take a break for a bit." michael nods gratefully, running a hand through his hair again as he leans back against the headboard beside you on his bed.

as you both watch the movie, michael can't help but be aware of how close you're sitting. every time you lean over to point something out on the screen, he gets a whiff of your perfume. he's trying to focus on the action scene, but his mind keeps wandering. "you know,"

"you're really good at explaining stuff," michael says suddenly, breaking the silence. he clears his throat, looking down at his hands folded in his lap. "i mean, i guess that's why my parents pay you to tutor me, right?" he adds quickly, trying to play it cool.

you smile at his words, feeling a warmth spread through you at the compliment. "well, i do my best," you reply softly, glancing over at him. "i like helping people understand things better. it's rewarding when it finally clicks for them." you pause, noticing how nervous he seems.

the scene on the screen intensifies as the two characters share a passionate kiss under the moonlight. michael shifts uncomfortably beside you, suddenly very aware of how close your faces are. he can feel your warmth, smell your scent even more clearly now. his heart starts pounding in his chest abruptly…

"you're staring," you murmur softly without looking away from the screen. michael snaps his gaze back to the movie, face heating up. "no i'm not," he lies poorly. on screen the characters part ways, both looking flustered. michael swallows hard, his leg bouncing nervously. "the movie's kinda..." he trails off, unable to finish.

"boring?" you echo, turning your head to look at him finally. "really? this is like, the most anticipated movie of the year." you point at the screen where the characters are making out heavily. "and you're telling me you don't like romance?" you raise an eyebrow, a small smirk playing on your lips.

michael shifts again, avoiding your gaze as the characters on screen get even more heated. "no, i just— never really..." he trails off, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. "never experienced it, i guess. romance, i mean." his voice gets quieter, awkward. on screen the couple is practically melting into each other now. he clears his throat.

you watch the scene play out, feeling a pang of understanding for michael's discomfort. as the couple finally breaks apart on screen, you turn back to him, your expression softening. "wait," you say suddenly, realization dawning on your face. "so... you haven't had your first kiss yet?"

michael nods slowly, his face turning red. "no, not yet," he admits quietly, avoiding your eyes. he shifts uncomfortably, pulling his legs up beside him. "it just... never happened. nothing serious. i've never had a girlfriend or a... a kiss or anything." he gestures vaguely, still staring at the movie on screen like it's a shield.

"it's a nice feeling though," you say softly, thinking back to your first kiss. you don't notice how michael tenses beside you. on screen the couple is kissing again, slower this time. michael swallows hard, his heart racing. "could you—" he starts, then stops, clearing his throat. "could you teach me how?"

"god michael," you breathe out, trying to sound firm but your voice comes out softer than intended. you run a hand through your hair. "this is supposed to be professional. i'm your tutor." you glance at him, seeing the vulnerability in his eyes. on screen the couple is in a clinch now, but your attention is entirely on him. something in your stomach flips.

michael nods eagerly, grasping onto your professional excuse. "exactly," he says quickly. "i'd be learning something new. it's... it's educational, right?" he asks with a small, hopeful smile. on screen the girl presses herself against the guy, kissing him deeply.

you let out a laugh, shaking your head at his ridiculous excuse. "educational," you repeat, rolling your eyes. but something about the way he's looking at you, so earnest and hopeful, makes your resolve crumble. god, he's cute when he's nervous. "fine," you mutter, shifting so you're both sitting against the headboard, knees practically touching.

you take a deep breath, trying to sound professional despite the intense situation. "okay, so the first step is... eye contact," you say softly, looking into his deep brown eyes. michael swallows hard, completely captivated by your face inches from his. "then you... tilt your head slightly,"

you demonstrate by tilting your head to the side, breaking eye contact to look down at your hands folded in your lap. "and then... then you just press your lips together gently," you explain, biting your bottom lip unconsciously. michael's eyes dart to your mouth, his heart pounding in his chest. "it's simple, really."

michael nods slowly, his eyes never leaving your lips as you explain. "also," you continue, looking away again to gather your thoughts, "you can use your hands to hold their face gently if you want. it makes it more... intimate." michael swallows hard, imagining his hands on your cheeks.

"or you can—" you start to say, but then suddenly your words are cut off by warm lips pressing gently against yours. michael's hand cups your jaw, tilting your head exactly like you demonstrated. the kiss is soft and a little clumsy, but incredibly sweet.

you both pull away slowly, your eyes fluttering open. michael looks nervous immediately, his hand dropping from your cheek. "god maybe i shouldn't have—" he starts, but you cut him off by touching his arm gently. "no," you say softly,

you take his hand and guide it around your waist, pulling him closer. "It's good to touch all over, not just the face," you continue to explain softly, your lips brushing against his as you speak. michael's arm wraps around your waist automatically, pulling you even closer. "like here…?”

michael bites his lip, looking at your mouth again. "so... hands can go other places too?" he asks quietly, his hand pressing gently into your side. you nod, biting your lip back at him. the tension between you is palpable now, electric.

"mmhm," you whisper, your hand sliding up into his soft afro. before he can even react, you're pressing your lips back to his, deeper this time. michael lets out a surprised muffled sound against your mouth, his hand on your waist tightening possessively as he kisses you back eagerly.

you pull away slowly, your hand moving from his afro to cup his jaw gently. both of you are breathing heavily, lips swollen and pink. michael looks completely dazed, pupils dilated. "that was..." he starts, but you hush him softly. "there's also..." you pause, your thumb stroking his cheek, "using tongue." michael blinks rapidly, "tongue?"

"so, you can part your lips a little," you demonstrate slowly, "and gently push your tongue into their mouth." michael watches intently as you part your lips slightly. "but go slow," you add softly, "and let them respond before you... explore deeper."

michael nods eagerly, his other hand moving to your face. he pulls your bottom lip down gently with his thumb, opening your mouth for him. before you can say anything, he's leaning in and pressing his lips to yours again, this time pushing his tongue into your mouth slowly just like you showed him.

you let out a soft moan into his mouth, your arms wrapping around his neck automatically. michael's hands tighten on your waist and face, pulling you onto his lap without breaking the kiss. he deepens the kiss instantly, his tongue exploring your mouth eagerly now that he knows he's doing it right.

you both kiss messily for a few seconds, lips parted and tongues tangling. then michael breaks the kiss to trail soft kisses down your neck, making you let out a soft whimper. he's completely lost in you, his hands roaming gently over your back and hips.

you try to push him away gently, your voice shaking as you say "we... we shouldn't be doing this." but your hands are still tangled in his afro, pulling him closer instead of pushing him away. michael ignores your protest, kissing a particularly sensitive spot on your neck that makes you gasp.

you pull away slightly, trying to say something but your words are cut off as michael's hands suddenly grip your hips tightly and pull you flush against him. you can feel his growing arousal through his jeans, grinding right against where you need it most. it catches you completely off guard and makes your mind go blank.

michael starts to talk, his voice low and husky as he grinds you against him again. "see? this feels good, right?" he whispers, his hands squeezing your hips possessively. "your body likes it... i can feel how wet you are through my jeans." he kisses your neck again.

you bite your lip and let out a soft whine, your hips starting to move against him of their own accord. "michael..." you whisper, trying to sound stern but failing miserably. he just smirks against your neck, his hands encouraging your movements. "see?"

michael tilts his head eagerly, desperately searching for your lips. when he finds them, he kisses you deeply, both of you grinding together in a slow, messy rhythm. saliva drips down your chin as your mouths clash together, tongues tangling. his hips move against yours, catching your soaked core with every deliberate grind. "so good," he whimpers into your mouth. “shit, it feels amazing” you moan out softly.

"fuck, you're so wet," michael whimpers, his fingers digging into your hips as he continues to grind you against him. "keep talking to me like that," he begs, his voice trembling as he presses his forehead against yours. "tell me i'm doing good, please."

"you like when i talk to you baby?" you tease breathlessly, your nails digging into his shoulders. "is that why you let me tutor you? just to hear me?" michael shudders at the pet name, your words making his clothed cock twitch hard against your soaked pussy. "yes... fuck yes," he whimpers, grinding harder. "need to hear you..."

"you like when i teach you nasty things like this?" you murmur against his neck, sucking gently on a spot that makes him gasp. "your poor tutor teaching you how to be so filthy..." you tease, grinding your hips against his hard length. michael tilts his head back, exposing his throat to you completely. "fuck yes," he whimpers, his hips bucking up into yours.

you pick up the pace, grinding faster against him as your lips move to his ear. "is this making you feel good baby?" you murmur, rolling your hips in a deep circle that makes him moan. "all these kisses, all this grinding... see what you been missin out on?" michael whimpers, his whole body trembling against yours. "everything," he confesses breathlessly.

"mhm, i know you love it, michael," you hum softly, your voice like velvet against his ear. "so innocent... yet so fucking nasty." your words make his hips jerk sharply, pulling a needy whimper from his chest. "only you can make me like this,"

"yea? only me baby?" you murmur, grinding your hips in a slow circle against his. michael groans, completely unraveling beneath your hands. "yes... fuck yes," he admits, his voice cracking with raw honesty. "i like everything about you. your voice, the way you touch... the way you talk dirty to me..." his cheeks flush deep.

you keep grinding against him, mouths locked in a messy, open-mouthed kiss. saliva coats both your lips as the tv plays something meaningless in the background. several papers slide off the bed, forgotten, as your bodies move together in perfect rhythm. michael moans into your mouth, his fingers tangling in your hair. "your voice... when you tell me i’m doing good..."

you grind down on his print in his jeans, your wet heat soaking through the fabric. "yeah? you like when i praise you?" you murmur, your lips brushing against his ear. you start to move your hips in a slow, figure-8 pattern, making him gasp.

"fuck yes mama," michael moans quietly, his head falling back against the pillows. "i like everything you do... especially this." he bucks his hips up to meet yours, clearly visible through his jeans. "you're so good at this, god..."

you keep your eyes locked on his as you caress his flushed face with one hand, studying the way pleasure spreads through his features. his eyes look wild and heavy-lidded, his mouth hanging open. you notice every small detail—the way his lips part at every grind, the soft whimpers that escape despite his attempts to keep quiet. a dark thrill hits you as you watch.

"i need—" michael starts, but a particularly deep grind cuts him off with a broken moan. his whole body tenses beneath you, hips thrusting up desperately. you slow your grinding, watching his face twist with unmet need. "what do you need baby?" you coo, running your thumb across his bottom lip. "tell mama. use your words."

"god, i just need— i need more of you," michael finally manages to get out, his voice strained and pleading. his hands grip your hips tightly, trying to pull you closer even though there's no space left between you. "please, i need... fuck..."

you sit all the way up, hovering over him, your finger trailing along the button of your jeans. "you need me to take these off for you, baby?" you ask sweetly, your voice dripping with promise. michael's eyes go wide, his breath catching at the suggestion. his whole body trembles, his hips tilting up desperately. "fuck yes,"

you stand up slowly, keeping eye contact as you slide your jeans down, kicking them off with a satisfying smile. michael's breath catches, his eyes glued to your body. you nod at him, signaling for him to remove his jeans too. he scrambles to obey, yanking his jeans off so fast you think he might break something. "please come here…mama,"

you sink back over his lap, settling into place as his eyes immediately snap to your delicate lace panties. they contrast sharply with your flushed skin, leaving little to the imagination. his adam’s apple bobs as he stares, his gaze lingering on how the fabric curves around your hips. "fuck yes..." he breathes, his hands hovering at his sides like he's afraid to touch.

you lean back against his chest, feeling his hard length press against your ass through his boxers. "we have to stay like this baby," you murmur softly, "we can't go too far." michael's arms wrap around your waist, pulling you flush against him. "i know, mama,"

"good, baby good," you whisper against his neck, kissing him gently. "now keep—" but before you can finish your sentence, michael suddenly flips you over so he's on top instead. his eyes burn with intensity as he hovers over you, his hands holding yours above your head.

"c-can i taste you mama?" michael asks nervously, his voice cracking with need. "i wanna make you feel good." his hips already start moving on their own, dry humping against you through your underwear. "please... let me try?" his eyes are almost begging.

you don't give him an answer, just tilt your head back and murmur, "kiss me." michael doesn't hesitate, leaning down to capture your lips immediately. he's desperate, kissing you sloppily, tongue pushing past your lips demanding entry. his hips keep moving even as he kisses, grinding against your lace panties. "mmmph—"

"okay baby, yes you can..." you whisper softly, running your fingers through his hair. "i just wanted to see how much you've learnt." michael's eyes meet yours briefly before he continues kissing down your neck and collarbone, his hands already moving to hook under your underwear.

michael kisses down your neck eagerly, sucking and biting gently as he hears your permission. "i've learnt a lot mama," he murmurs against your skin, his hands roaming over your body possessively. "i wanna make you feel so good..."

"show me then, baby," you say clearly, giving him explicit permission. "i want to see everything you've learned." michael's eyes light up, his confidence growing instantly. "yes mama," he breathes, kissing down your body slowly like you taught him.

michael kisses his way down your stomach, his tongue dipping into your belly button. he hooks his fingers into the waistband of your panties, looking up at you for confirmation before slowly pulling them down. once they're off, he kisses along your hipbones and inner thighs, moving closer and closer to your center. "mama..."

you guide his head gently between your thighs, "open your mouth baby," you instruct softly. "start with soft kisses here," you point to your inner lips. "then use your tongue to part them gently. find my clit and circle it slowly with the tip of your tongue."

michael obeys instantly, his mouth opening as instructed. he starts kissing your inner lips, whimpering at the taste. "mmmph..." he groans, moving lower. his tongue finds your clit and circles it exactly as you taught him. "fuck... mama..." he mumbles against you, your juices hitting his tongue. he whimpers loudly at the taste, completely overwhelmed.

"now suck the clit gently," you instruct, watching his head bob. "and slip one finger inside... just one." michael whimpers, his finger sliding into your wet heat. he moans against your clit, sucking it gently as his finger curls. "fuck... so wet..." he whimpers, tasting you more and more. "is this right mama?"

you let out a breathy moan, your head falling back against the pillow. "yes baby, you do it so perfectly..." you gasp, your thighs trembling around his head. "you're doing so good for me, michael." your fingers thread through his hair, not pushing or pulling—just letting him continue. he whimpers at the praise, tasting more of your slickness.

he melts at your words, his finger moving in and out slower. "you like that mama?" he asks, his tongue circling your sensitive nub faster. he spreads your thighs wider without instruction, getting more comfortable between your legs. "you like when i eat your pussy like this?"

"mmm... baby..." you moan, your back arching slightly. "it feels so good... you’re learning so fast." your legs spread wider on their own, inviting him deeper. "look at you... your face is buried between my legs and you're loving it." your voice is soft, encouraging.

michael whimpers desperately against your pussy, his face completely buried between your thighs. he's overwhelmed by the taste and feel of you, completely desperate to please you. his tongue licks up your slit eagerly, tasting your juices. "mama... i love it..."

"another finger, and go faster baby... make mama cum. that's what you wanna do right?" you moan, your hands gripping his hair tighter. michael whimpers at your words, quickly adding another finger and moving faster, curling them against that spot inside you. "y-yes mama!"

your legs start shaking uncontrollably, bouncing as he picks up speed. your head throws back against the pillow, loud moans escaping you. "fuck... fuck... michael..." your fingers tighten in his hair. he's relentless, tongue flicking faster on your clit while two fingers pump your walls perfectly. your whole body trembles, juices coating his chin. "mmm... mama..."

he keeps going, his tongue relentless and flicking faster than ever. he reaches up, one hand pressing firmly down on your lower stomach, grounding you as the peak hits. your whole body snaps tight, your legs shaking violently as you cum hard. "mmmph... mama!" he groans against you, tasting every drop as you collapse into the pillow, breathless and trembling.

"oh my god... baby..." you pant, chest heaving. michael slowly pulls back, kissing your thighs gently as you come down from the high. "was that... good mama?" he asks softly, his chin wet with your juices. "you came so hard..."

"come here..." you whimper, your voice still shaky. before he can even answer, michael immediately pulls himself up, burying his face in your neck before moving to your mouth. you lock together in a deep, desperate kiss, his lips moving between yours eagerly. your legs start to shake again slightly, but you push through. "mmm..." his tongue explores your mouth hungrily.

you smile at him softly, your fingers gentle on his face. "you did so well baby... mama's so proud of you." your voice is warm and comforting. "you made me cum so hard..." your legs twitch slightly at the memory. "did you like tasting mama?" you question, your other hand roaming through his curls.

michael's eyes flutter closed at your words, leaning into your palm. "mama..." he whispers softly, his voice thick with emotion. "i wanted to make you feel good..." his thumbs brush against your cheeks gently. "you taste so good... i’m glad i could do this for you."

between kisses, you whisper against his lips, "feel me baby... feel how wet i am for you." you guide his hips down, pressing his hard, clothed, length against your soaking core. michael whimpers into the kiss, breaking away briefly to look down where you're guiding him.

"fuck... you drive me crazy..." michael groans between kisses, his hips starting to grind against your soaking core. your juices coat his tip, making a wet sound with every movement. he can't help but hump you, your wetness making him feel everything. "mama... you're so wet..." he whines against your lips.

your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him impossibly closer. between kisses, you whisper against his lips, "only for you baby... only for you." michael shivers at your words, his grind getting harder. "mmm... mama..." he breathes into your mouth, your wetness making squelching sounds against his tip. "you drip for me..." he groans.

you run your fingers through his hair, moaning into the kiss as michael keeps grinding. his hips rock desperately against your soaked pussy, the thin fabric of his boxers doing nothing. "fuck... you feel so good baby..." he groans, pressing his hard bulge right against your clit each time he grinds down. your walls clench around nothing, craving more.

you pull away from the kiss, your fingers cupping his face gently. "yea, baby... tell me what you've learnt today." michael leans into your touch, his breathing ragged from grinding against you. "i learnt how to eat pussy... how to make mama cum..." he whispers, his hips still twitching. "and how to make you say my name..."

"mm, that's not all michael, what else?" you murmur, running your thumb across his lips. "what about kissing? what did you learn today about that?" michael opens his mouth, but his hips roll instinctively against your wet core, making him whimper. "i... i learnt how to..." he breaks off into a moan, grinding harder. "mmm..."

"uh huh, baby you can tell me, go ahead..." you murmur encouragingly, rubbing your soaked pussy against his boxers. michael’s eyes roll back slightly at the sensation. "i-i learnt how to kiss... really kiss... like deep and wet and messy..."

"mhm, and how did it feel baby?" you ask softly, continuing to grind against his covered length. michael’s breath hitches, his eyes fluttering as he gets closer. "mama... i’m getting close..." he whispers, his hips rolling faster. "it felt amazing... kissing you like that... i-i wanna kiss you everywhere..." he groans. "please..."

"and you're only going to kiss me right baby? nobody else?" you ask softly, your voice laced with possessiveness. michael moans helplessly, his hips jerking as he gets closer. "yes yes mama only you i promise only you mama..."

you pull back, admiring the sheer pleasure etched on michael's face—his flushed cheeks, parted lips, rolling eyes. just before he can even process your words, you command softly but firmly, "let go baby... give it to me." michael loses it completely. "mama..."

michael tries to bury his face in your neck, embarrassed and overwhelmed. but you force his face back up, making him meet your eyes. he whimpers, “oh my gosh…baby,” his mouth falling open as he cums desperately into his boxers, his entire body shaking with the force of his release. "mama..."

michael collapses heavily against you, his body trembling from the intensity of his release. you hold him gently, arms wrapped around his shaking frame. he buries his face in your neck, still whimpering softly. "so good... mama... so good..." he breathes out shakily. you stroke his hair slowly, your fingers gentle against his damp strands. "there now..." you murmur softly.

you hum in approval, your fingers carding through his hair. before pulling back slightly to peek into his boxers. your expression softens seeing the cum spread throughout. "mama needs you to go change okay?" michael nods weakly, too spent to argue. he lets you help him up slowly.

before he can fully get up, michael leans in and presses a gentle kiss to your cheek. he starts walking toward the bathroom, still shaky. you lightly shout after him, "you have one more math problem left!" michael freezes mid-step, groaning. "but i just came..." he complains, but he knows better than to argue. he heads into the bathroom to change.

now the time has passed. sitting on the floor, you both work together on the final math problem. michael is focused, his earlier distraction forgotten as he tackles the equations. you guide him gently, your patience and teaching methods helping him understand. his face lights up when he finally gets the answer correct. "i did it!"

"you did so good for mama!" you praise, kissing his cheek gently. michael blushes deeply, a happy smile spreading across his face as the math problem is officially complete.

[kkgalerii]

imagine :

michael truly never can stop til’ he gets enough

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅

content: 18+, straight smut, plot nowhere to be found, overstimulation ೀ

𑣲. the low, ambient glow of the bedroom lamp cast long, amber shadows across the oversized mattress, lighting up the subtle rise and fall of the tangled silk sheets. it was well past three in the morning.

you and michael had returned from a long, glamorous night out hours ago—your high heels discarded somewhere near the bedroom door, his heavy jacket draped over the velvet armchair—and yet, neither of you had gotten a single minute of sleep.

you lay melted back against the plush pillows, your skin flushed and slick with a fine sheen of sweat, your chest heaving in quiet, ragged hitches. your eyelids felt heavy, weighed down by pure, golden exhaustion, every muscle in your legs trembling softly from the endless storm of pleasure he had already pulled out of you.

"michael..." you whimpered out lazily, your voice raspy and barely above a breath as you reached up, your fingers tangling loosely into his damp dark curls. "god, baby... we've been at this all night..."

michael hovered directly over you, resting his weight on his forearms on either side of your head. his broad shoulders glistened under the dim lamp, his dark eyes wide, liquid, and burning with a sweet, unyielding hunger that proved he wasn't anywhere near finished with you.

"i know, sweet thing... i know," michael whispered against your jaw, his voice a low, raspy velvet hum that sent a violent shiver straight down your spine.

he leaned down, pressing a trail of soft, lingering kisses along your burning neck, over your collarbone, down to your chest. "just a little more for me... please, angel? you feel so good... i can't stop..."

he reached down between your bodies, his long, slender fingers—warm and tender—sliding effortlessly through the heavy slickness that drenched your thighs.

"look at what you do to me..." michael rasped into your skin, a breathless, needy groan catching in his throat as his fingers stroked your dripping center. "you're so wet, mama... you're making such a mess of my sheets... it feels too damn good..."

before you could even summon a coherent thought to protest, michael gently took hold of your knee. with absolute care, as if you were made of pure silk, he lifted your leg, shifting your body onto your side and tucking your knee up toward your chest.

the shift in position opened you up completely to him from behind.

"mike... wait..." you gasped out, your fingers clutching tightly at the cool sheets under your hands.

"i got you, baby... just let go for me," michael murmured softly into the nape of your neck, his lips pressing sweet, reassuring kisses to your shoulder as he guided the broad, heavy tip of his shaft against your drenched entrance. "just relax your body... open up nice and wide for your boy, sweet thing..." slowly, deliberately, he pushed his hips forward.

a long, helpless moan tore from your throat, echoing softly in the quiet bedroom as he slid seamlessly inside you, filling every single inch of your aching core for what felt like the hundredth time tonight.

the sheer depth of the angle stretched you wide open, making your inner walls flutter violently around his thick length in absolute shock.

michael let out a heavy, shuddering groan against your shoulder, a breathless “m—mmm, god...” escaping his lips as his long arms wrapped tightly around your waist, pulling your back flush against his warm, rising chest."god... you feel so warm... so tight for me, angel," michael praised, his breath hot and heavy against your skin. "take it all for me... that's my good girl... let me take care of you..."

he didn't rush. instead, michael established a slow, agonizingly deep rhythm—rolling his hips into yours with that same effortless, fluid grace he possessed on stage. every single push was a slow, heavy grind, his broad head sliding over your internal sweet spot with ruthless, agonizing precision.

"aaah! mike!" you sobbed out softly, your head rolling back against his shoulder, your vision blurring into stars as that familiar, electric knot in your belly coiled right back up with terrifying speed.

"yeah... right there, baby?" michael rasped in your ear, letting out a soft, helpless moan of his own as his hips worked into yours. "m—mmm... i know... i know how much you like when i roll it like that... it feels so good on me, baby... you feel so fucking—mmph.."

you tried to speak, tried to tell him how completely insane he was driving you, but as he kept up that slow, steady, rolling grind against your clit, your tongue felt heavy, completely useless. all that could spill past your parted lips were breathless, whimpering sounds of pure submission.

"talk to me, baby..." michael coaxed gently, his hand sliding up your stomach to cup your breast, his thumb lightly stroking your sensitive nipple in perfect sync with his hips. "tell me how it feels... let me hear those pretty little noises... don't hold back for me..."

"i... i can't... michael, please..." you whimpered out, your fingers clutching blindly at his forearms anchored around your waist. "you're... you're making me crazy..."

"i got you... i'm right here," he whispered back, his voice dropping into that sweet, comforting breathiness. "just ride it with me... move your hips with mine, sweet thing... just like that... shit, mama…ngh”

for ten agonizingly sweet minutes, he kept you locked in that position, his body sliding against yours with a masterclass rhythm until your hips were trembling out of control.

his own breathing grew shallow, wild, and ragged. michael was whimpering openly into your skin now, his chest heaving as the intense friction of your drenched walls squeezing him so tightly pushed him right over the edge.

with a low, guttural groan that vibrated from deep in his chest—a long, needy "aaah, god, mama..."—michael drove himself deep inside you and came hard, his length pulsing inside you as he spilled his warmth into your center.

"god... angel..." michael whimpered, resting his forehead against your back, his entire body trembling as he rode out his release, letting out sweet, shaky sighs against your shoulder.

but he didn't pull out. he didn't even slow down for long.

staying buried deep inside your slick heat, michael let out a raspy, needy breath against your neck and began moving his hips again. still sensitive and throbbing, he rolled his hips back into that exact swollen spot, driving you completely out of your mind.

"mike! oh god... you're still... aaah!" you screamed out softly, your head thrashing against the pillow as the feeling hit you twice as hard.

"i can't stop, baby... it feels incredible... i just can't get enough of you," michael purred dark and low against your ear, his hands tightening on your waist as he picked up the pace. "you make me feel so good, mama... let me keep going... let me make you feel like heaven again..."

he gently rolled you back onto your spine, pulling your legs up over his shoulders and driving back into you from above. the angle was devastatingly deep. every slick impact echoed loudly in the dark bedroom, making a pool of sweat and release spread across the silk sheets beneath your hips.

michael leaned over you, his dark curls damp and clinging to his forehead, his dark eyes wide, hooded, and completely breathless as he watched your face contort with pleasure.

"look at this mess we're making..." michael rasped out, a soft, trembling moan escaping him as he ground his hips down hard. "m-mmm, sweet girl... look at how wet you are for me... you're taking all of me so pretty... tilt your hips up for me, baby... yeah, right there..."

"michael... i'm gonna... i'm gonna cum again!" you sobbed out, your hands clutching his wrists for dear life as your inner walls fluttered violently around him.

"do it, mama please! give me it baby, i want it so bad…" michael encouraged frantically, his voice cracking with pure emotion, a high, needy whimper torn from his own throat as he felt your body tightening up around him.

he leaned down, pressing his lips against yours, his hips driving into you with short, wild, frantic thrusts. "let it go, angel... cum all over my dick... ahhh, god, you're so tight...!"

the coil inside you snapped with violent force.

a breathless, piercing scream of pure bliss tore from your lungs as a massive, overwhelming orgasm slammed through your entire body.

your inner walls clamped down in powerful, rhythmic contractions, milking his broad shaft so hard that it triggered a second, explosive release from him right alongside yours.

with a dark, loud groan into your mouth—a helpless, desperate sound that echoed off the quiet walls—michael shuddered violently, spilling over inside you once more as you both came together in a wild, chaotic finish.

he collapsed forward, burying his face deep into the crook of your neck, his heavy chest rising and falling violently against yours as he heaved for air, letting out long, shaky breaths against your hot skin.

for several quiet minutes, the only sound in the bedroom was the soft, ragged sound of both of your breath mingling together in the dark. the silk sheets were completely soaked beneath you both, cold air brushing against your warm, slick skin.

slowly, michael pulled his head back, his dark eyes soft, liquid, and filled with a sweet, sleepy affection.

he pulled you gently onto your side, curling his body around your back and wrapping his long arms tightly around your waist, tucking you flush against his chest.

he pulled the heavy silk comforter up over both of your shoulders, shielding you from the cool air, and pressed a quiet, lingering kiss to the back of your neck.

"you okay, sweet thing?" michael whispered softly into your hair, his voice dropping into that sweet, gentle breathiness.

"i'm wonderful, mike..." you murmured, snuggling back into his heat as your eyes finally closed, your heavy body sinking into the mattress as you prepared to finally fall asleep. "you're relentless..."

michael let out a soft, quiet giggle against your shoulder. you thought he was finally letting you rest. but as your breathing began to slow down, you felt the heavy, unmistakable heat of his shaft—already growing thick and rock hard once again—pressing firmly against the crease of your thighs.

without pulling away, michael shifted his hips slightly, beginning to drag his long, hot length in slow, agonizingly sweet strokes directly up and down your drenched clit.

a sharp, helpless gasp tore from your throat, your eyes flying open in the dim light as a fresh bolt of heat zapped straight through your lower belly.

"mike...?" you whimpered, your hips twitching on instinct against him.

"i know, baby... i told you i can't stop," michael purred right against your ear, a low, boyish smirk in his raspy voice as his hand slid down your stomach to guide his hips back into you. "just one more time for your boy... keep going for me, sweet thing..."

[mjsbrat]

༺⊰⋆ DANGEROUS. ⋆⊱༻

𑣲 pairing: pre-dangerous era!michael x his producer’s assistant!reader

𑣲 synopsis: michael becomes obsessed with his producer’s assistant. falling harder and faster than ever before, he was determined to make her his, and his only.

𑣲 cw: 18+ smut, MDNI!, toxic!michael, dom!michael, sub!reader, angst!, it gets… filthyyyy, power play, degradation, praise!kink, manipulation, no use of y/n, love bombing, feels like fluff at first… it’s not.

𑣲 wc: 10.2k (i’m a yapper)

𑣲 authors note: guys i think this is my magnum opus. i was so gagged writing this. i hope you enjoy :’)

𑣲 tags: @misscowboyhat @chrollosblackgf66 @bluugangsta @vyvyrulesboisdrool @aloeveraaa333 @smoothcriminalgf @scccm0182 @nodisdino @glitterqueen123 @doefern @cupidslyrics @silentonthedancefloor @savagenctzen @mrsjacksonnnnnn @gleefullywingedvision @michaelsfayvourite @brownsugarbbys-blog @parness @wildpandorasky @cherubae111 @lullora @pvtypyt @nylauhh @jasppppeeee @capevans3000 @sunsetdrvr @1-800-angel-ok @narratedillusions @mikaylajacksonnn @galacticpurpl3 @oidloid @veraberaxx @studio03 @avenueeee @flygirldiary @gxsela @susielu

────୨ৎ────

part I, the beginning.

you pushed open the heavy, soundproofed door to the control room. the windowless room full of sprawling mixing consoles and dreams. you stood in the doorway, clipboard pressed to your chest like a shield, trying to keep your breathing steady.

junior production assistant to teddy riley.

the words still felt unreal. twenty-four years old, fresh out of college, and somehow you’d landed your first real job on the most anticipated album of the decade. dangerous. michael jackson’s album.

how the fuck is this your life?

you hadn’t spoken more than a polite “good morning” since you started about a week ago. you’ve always been soft-spoken by nature, but around him, the instinct to stay quiet grew even stronger. you simply did your job: making sure the tapes were labeled and ready, keeping the schedule tight, taking detailed notes on takes, and quietly refilling water bottles before anyone had to ask.

you had never forgotten what teddy had told you on day one: “stay out of the way, but stay useful.”

so that’s exactly what you did.

you lingered silently in the back of the control room all day, every day. watching michael and your boss work for hours on end on a single beat. it took everything in you to keep your eyes away from michael. his presence was… intense. he was larger than life, yet almost as soft-spoken as yourself.

one afternoon, during a short break, michael stepped away from the microphone and walked into the control room, wiping sweat from his brow. teddy and the rest of your colleagues stepped out of the room for a chat. you stayed, quietly organizing the tapes for the next take, turning your head down to stay focused on your task.

he stopped beside you.

“you’re always one step ahead,” he said softly.

your heart slammed against your ribs. you looked up at him slowly. his large brown eyes stared down at you, warm but intense. you felt your cheeks start to heat up.

“just doing my job, mr. jackson,” you murmured, barely above a whisper. scared to step out of line.

a small smile tugged at his lips. “michael,” he corrected gently.

“michael.” you nodded shyly. returning a small smile to him, unsure what else to say, you went back to your task.

from that day forward, he interacted with you. it was always in small ways… a quiet “thank you” when you handed him fresh water exactly when his voice started to strain, or a soft “goodnight” as he headed out the door.

the days blurred together in a haze of creativity and caffeine. you moved quietly through the studio like a shadow, until michael found a way to pull you into the light.

it happened on a long thursday evening. the atmosphere in the control room was thick with frustration. michael, teddy, bill bottrell, and bruce swedien had been going back and forth for hours on a song structure that wasn’t quite locking in. the track, still untitled, kept falling apart in the bridge.

you were refilling water bottles in the corner when michael suddenly turned in his chair, his eyes finding you.

“what do you think?” he asked. the room went quiet. your stomach dropped. you froze, clutching an empty bottle.

“i… i’m sorry?” you whispered, voice barely carrying across the room.

michael leaned forward, elbows on his knees, looking at you with genuine curiosity. “the structure. the bridge into the chorus. you’ve been listening to every take. what do you feel is missing?”

your cheeks burned. you had never felt so put on the spot before. suddenly you became very aware of your age and lack of experience… and very aware you were the only woman in the room.

“i don’t—“ you started, terrified to overstep. your eyes looked towards your boss for guidance. you were just the assistant. the girl who made sure the tapes were labeled and the important people stayed on schedule. not someone whose opinion mattered to michael jackson.

“oh, teddy, you’re scaring her,” michael chuckled as he slapped teddy’s arm with the back of his hand. “tell her she can talk to me.”

teddy laughed at michael’s shove and lifted his hands, motioning for you to come closer. you placed the waters on the table and cautiously made your way over towards the men, your heart hammering in your chest.

“so?” michael asked, tilting his head to the side as he awaited your response. his eyes stared deep into yours as you quickly looked away from the way it made your heart leap in your chest.

after a long, calming breath, you spoke carefully, “the bridge feels… too expected,” you murmured. “it builds tension but then drops too safely into the chorus.” you paused for a second, moving so you were in between the chairs michael and your boss were sitting in, looking to get a better view of the board.

“if you held the note a little longer on the last line, really let it suspend, and brought the bass in underneath instead of the drums… it would feel more like a release. like a breath, you know?”

silence.

you immediately regretted speaking. too much. too bold. welp, you can kiss this job goodbye!

you looked over your right shoulder to find michael staring up at you, eyes bright with something new. he turned slowly back to the console, played the section again, then made the exact adjustment you suggested… holding the note, dropping the drums, letting the bass glide underneath.

the room shifted. the song clicked. teddy let out a low whistle.

michael leaned back, a slow, radiant smile spreading across his face. he looked at teddy and pointed in your direction. “you see that? she hears it. i want her in every session from now on.”

your breath caught. michael’s gaze returned to you, intense and focused in a way that made your knees feel weak. something shifted in that moment; he had locked in on you.

later that night, after the others had finally packed up, michael lingered. you were gathering your things quietly when he approached, hands tucked in the pockets of his slacks.

“your idea was perfect.” the sound of his voice stopped you dead in your tracks. it was like he stole all of the air from your lungs. you looked up at him, flustered as you tried putting together a sentence, anything.

“thank you…michael.”

he smiled at the sound of his name on your lips. you had expected him to slip out of the room quietly behind you, but instead he leaned up against the wall, studying you further.

you felt your breath hitch, unsure of what to do. you turned your attention to your things, trying your best to avoid direct eye contact with him. instead you focused on grabbing your scattered papers from the table in front of you.

“long day,” he said quietly, almost awkwardly, eyes still fixed on your every move. you nodded in agreement, avoiding his gaze. “was it a long day for you too?” he asked casually, pushing for an actual answer from you.

“i guess,” you mumbled as you looked up to view the clock hanging above the exit. 12:18 a.m. michael took notice of your slight movement and followed your eyes to view the time himself.

“what time did you get here?” he asked, his voice soft and curious. you had to stop yourself from looking at him as if he had three heads. why on earth would michael jackson care to hold such a mundane conversation with someone like you?

you turned your head in his direction, finally meeting his gaze. he looked so… normal.

“um, around 7, i think?”

“7 a.m.?”

“yeah,” you replied as you finished stuffing your notepads and folders into your bag, “guess it has been a long day.”

“is it tiring?” he inquired, refusing to let the conversation die. you shifted on your feet slightly, slinging your bag over your shoulder as you looked back up at him.

“yeah,” you answered honestly, “but i don’t mind. this is everything i’ve ever dreamed of.”

michael studied your face, the way your eyes started to twinkle as you spoke to him about your dreams. he smiled at you, a soft and kind smile.

“what made you want to work in the studio like this?” he asked, real curiosity painted across his face.

“i’ve always been drawn to the magic that happens behind the scenes,” you answered truthfully, “the way one small decision on the board dictates the entire sound… i don’t know.”

michael smiled at you as you spoke, and the sight of him in front of you had your heart beating so loud you were scared he was going to be able to hear it. he stared at you, barely blinking as he took in everything about you. you felt… vulnerable? like he was figuring out every part of you right there in that moment.

“i know it’s late,” michael started, “but if you’re not too tired, i could show you a few things.”

every single part of you that was exhausted before was awoken like it had been hit with a bolt of lightning… and you knew it was all over your face. you couldn’t contain your smile as you very quickly dropped your bag down on the couch next to you.

“not too tired.” you grinned; you felt like you had hit the lottery. and michael couldn’t help but chuckle at your enthusiasm as you both made your way back to the console.

the hours slipped away. as you sat in your boss’ chair next to michael, the studio felt smaller. like the rest of the world had melted away. he made you feel comfortable instantly, speaking in a soft and warm tone that made you relax more and more with each passing second. he took his time explaining different techniques he had learned throughout the years, making sure you fully understood the process before he moved on to the next thing.

somewhere along the way michael started to sprinkle in some questions about you. he asked you things like: what kind of music moved you when you were a girl? what do you hope to create one day? how did it feel to be fresh out of college and thrown into this world?

you opened up bit by bit, your soft voice gaining a little more confidence as he listened so intently. he made it so easy, which shocked you. it amazed you how tentative he was. it seemed like he really cared about what you were saying.

in return, he began sharing pieces of himself, small at first, then deeper. he spoke about his bad tour, which had just wrapped up within the last year. what it’s like being away from home for months, sometimes years on end. in his rawest confession, he told you about the quiet loneliness that comes with being who he is.

and you were a goner.

you could feel yourself getting lost in his eyes as he spoke. the way he spoke so openly and honestly took you by complete surprise. yet, it felt natural. like you had known him forever.

“i’m sorry you feel so lonely,” the words left your mouth before you could stop them. michael stared at you, his big eyes growing even softer at your words.

“it’s okay,” he replied, looking to switch the conversation off of himself. “what about you?” he asked as he turned away from your gaze, almost shy-like.

“what about me?”

“are you lonely? or do you have someone?” he asked, voice softer than ever before. you felt your heart skip a beat at his question.

“no and no,” you answered, “not lonely. also not seeing anyone.”

michael scanned your face the entire time you spoke; you had never felt so listened to before. he made you feel like you were the only person in the world with the way he looked at you. you felt like you could stay there forever and never run out of things to talk about. it was almost four in the morning when michael finally glanced at the clock.

“you must be exhausted,” he said, voice husky from hours of talking. he stood and offered his hand to help you up. when your fingers slid into his, he didn’t let go right away, allowing his touch to linger. his hand was warm, and so much larger than yours.

“do you have a car here?” he asked softly, slowly dropping his hand from yours.

“no, no, my car is a piece of junk that’s always in the shop,” you laughed. “i’m just going to take a cab.”

“absolutely not,” michael protested, grabbing his jacket from the couch, “i’ll take you home.”

“it’s okay, really—“

“i’m not taking no for an answer,” michael replied, grabbing your bag to carry it for you without even asking, like he had been doing it forever. “let’s go.”

the drive was mostly quiet. michael was driving, something he told you was rare that he does for himself, and you were next to him, spewing out directions as the city lights blurred past the windows. when he pulled up outside your modest apartment building, the air felt thicker with tension.

michael turned to you, his gaze intense in the dim light. “thank you for tonight,” he whispered. “for being you.” before you could respond, he reached over and gently cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing your skin with a tenderness that made your breath catch. you felt as if you were floating out of your body. “you’re different,” he finished, as he searched your face for any sign of discomfort. he moved towards you slowly, like he was giving you every chance to pull away, and pressed his lips gently against yours.

the kiss was soft at first, slow and respectful, as he gauged your comfort level. when you didn’t pull away, he deepened the kiss. his hand slid into your hair as he pulled you closer to him. his tongue gently grazed your bottom lip, asking for access, which you granted immediately. he kissed you with such passion it made your stomach drop, similar to the feeling of being on a rollercoaster. it was exhilarating. when he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours.

“i’ve wanted to do that for days,” he admitted, voice low. “you have no idea what you’re doing to me.”

you didn’t know what to say back to him. so instead, you sat there in the quiet dark. your heart pounding, your mind reacting. the first fragile boundary between the two of you finally crossed.

────୨ৎ────

part ii, the honeymoon stage.

the days that followed the kiss felt like a dream you were terrified of waking up from.

you did your absolute best to stay professional in the studio, but it was impossible to hide how giddy you felt whenever michael was near. every time he looked at you, your stomach fluttered and your cheeks warmed. a small, secret smile would tug at your lips when he passed you a note with a quick lyric scribble and a heart at the bottom. you found yourself constantly replaying the feeling of his lips, and the feeling of his tongue swirling around yours. you were completely drunk on him.

michael, meanwhile, was becoming completely obsessed.

he noticed everything. the way you tucked your hair behind your ear when you were concentrating. how you preferred your coffee with a touch of cinnamon on busy mornings. how you always smelled faintly of vanilla and the rose lotion you loved. the nervous little habit of biting your lower lip when you were trying not to speak out of turn. he catalogued it all.

that first week following the kiss, he started carving out time for the two of you outside the studio.

it began small. one evening after a long session, he took you to a private overlook in the hills before taking you home. the city sparkled below while he played unreleased tracks for you on a portable cassette player, his arm eventually slipping around your shoulders. the two of you sat there for hours, as he told you more and more about his life, saying “i’ve never felt safe enough to tell anyone these things before.”

another night, he brought you to neverland. it was 2 a.m., and there the two of you were, riding the carousel like children. michael’s laughter, bright and unguarded, mixed with the cheerful mechanical music as you spun under the twinkling lights.

“you deserve to have fun too,” he told you softly, watching you spin on the painted horse with pure adoration in his eyes. “not just work.”

that night was special. it was the first time he made love to you. you had never felt so cherished and completely cared for in your entire life. you had never been so intimate with someone before. yes, you’ve had sex, but you’ve never had someone be so gentle with you.

he took his time with everything. he took his time undressing you, his fingertips tracing every inch of newly revealed skin like he was memorizing every part of you. his mouth mapped your body while he placed warm, wet kisses trailing from your neck to your breasts, sucking gently on your nipples until they ached, then lower, across your stomach, until his breath ghosted over your core.

the first slow stroke of his tongue drew a broken, needy moan from deep in your throat. he was patient, devastatingly attentive, learning exactly how you liked to be licked and sucked. the wet sounds of his mouth working you open filled the quiet room, mingling with your soft gasps and whimpers. he hummed in pleasure against you, the vibration sending sparks up your spine.

“that’s it, my sweet girl,” he praised, voice muffled. “let me hear you. you taste so good… so perfect for me.”

his tongue fucked you with slow, deliberate devotion until your thighs trembled violently around his shoulders and your fingers were desperately tangled in his soft curls. the orgasm ripped through you like a tidal wave. it was completely consuming, overwhelming, leaving you shaking and gasping as waves of pleasure crashed over you again and again. michael moaned against you, lapping up every drop of your release like he was starving for it, savoring you until your body had nothing left to give.

when he finally rose, the weight of his body settling over yours felt like coming home. skin against heated skin. his scent, cologne mixed with sweat, surrounded you. he positioned his thick cock at your entrance and pushed in slowly, inch by inch, watching your face the entire time.

the stretch was intense, a deep, burning fullness that made you gasp as you wrapped your legs around his waist. he buried himself to the hilt and stilled, forehead pressed to yours, sharing the same ragged breath.

“are you okay?” he whispered, voice strained with the effort of holding back. his warm, slightly damp skin pressed against yours everywhere. his curls falling onto your face.

you nodded, nails digging into his back as you tried to adjust to the overwhelming sensation of being so completely filled by him.

“please… move.”

he made love to you like he was trying to fuse your souls together. deep, rolling thrusts that dragged against every sensitive spot inside you. the room filled with the slick, intimate sounds of skin against skin, your soft, desperate moans, and his low, consistent praises. every thrust felt like it reached deeper than your body, like he was searching for parts of you no one else had ever touched.

“you feel incredible,” he groaned, voice raw and trembling. “so warm and tight around me… like you were made to fit me perfectly. i’ve never felt anything like this.” one of his hands stayed linked with yours above your head, fingers tightly interlaced, while the other worshipped your body. his thumb brushed against your sensitive nipple, trailing his palm down your side, fingers finding your clit to circle in perfect rhythm with his thrusts. every movement bound you tighter to him. you felt engulfed in him. lost in the heat of his skin, the taste of his kisses, the relentless pleasure building inside you until there was nothing left but him.

he brought you over the edge again like that, kissing you through your orgasm as you clenched and fluttered wildly around him, trembling and gasping into his mouth. the intensity left you sobbing his name, tears slipping from the corners of your eyes as you pulled him closer. only then did he let himself follow, shuddering with a low, broken groan as he pulled out at the last second and pumped himself rapidly, painting your stomach with thick, hot ropes of his cum.

afterward, he collapsed beside you and pulled you into his arms, holding you like you were the most precious thing in existence. his fingers traced lazy, soothing patterns on your back while he pressed soft, lingering kisses to your forehead, your eyelids, the tip of your nose, your lips. you could feel the emptiness from him between your legs, the stickiness of his release on your skin, the rapid beat of his heart against your cheek.

“i’m falling so hard for you,” he whispered against your skin, voice raw with emotion. “you make me feel… insane.”

you curled tighter into his chest, surrounded by his warmth, his scent, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. in that moment, you felt utterly tied to him; body, heart, and soul. it was everything, and you had fallen completely.

you weren’t the first one to say it. you were lying with him on the large couch in his private sitting room at neverland, a week after the passionate night the two of you shared. the lights were low, with a crackling fire directly below the television playing his favorite cartoon. he was holding you in his arms, your face flush against his chest, listening to his heartbeat when he shifted slightly.

“i love you,” he said, voice low and unwavering. “i know this is fast… maybe too fast, but i’ve never said those words and meant it this much before.”

it was fast. dangerously fast. but hearing those words from him, feeling chosen by him, made your heart swell so much it practically hurt. you lifted your head to meet his eyes. he was looking at you like you hung the moon and stars.

“it feels like everyone always wants something from me,” he continued softly, lacing his fingers with yours. his grip was warm, almost a little too tight. “but you… you just give. you make me feel safe. i need you. i’ve never needed anyone the way i need you.”

the words made you melt. it was a dizzying rush of love mixed with the quiet thrill of being so desperately wanted by him, of all people. you were completely overwhelmed with emotion.

“i love you too,” you responded quickly, grabbing his face with both hands to pull him in for a steamy, passionate kiss.

the gifts followed immediately after. each one more thoughtful than the last, each one showing how deeply he paid attention.

first, a small velvet box waited on your usual table in the studio. inside was a delicate gold necklace with a tiny music note pendant. the note read: for the girl who hears the music in everything. wear this and think of me.

a few days later, a beautiful designer purse appeared at your apartment. soft leather in a warm gold-brown tone that matched his favorite dress of yours perfectly. “for carrying all those notes you take for me, i love you,” the card said.

then came the earrings. exquisite gold hoops with small diamonds that caught the studio lights. he’d noticed you admired a similar pair in a magazine left lying around. when you put them on with trembling fingers and looked up at him shyly, his smile was radiant.

“they suit you perfectly,” he murmured, reaching out to gently brush your hair back so he could see them better. his fingers lingered on your skin.

“everything looks better on you, baby.” his new name for you.

you had never felt attention like this ever, and it was coming from him. the way he made time for you, the way he noticed every tiny detail, treating you like you were the most precious thing in his world.

as the weeks went on, you found yourself canceling plans with friends without hesitation. not because he ever asked you to, but because you wanted to. your mind was consumed by him. you began dressing with him in mind every morning. you started waking up earlier so you could make sure you looked perfect for him. always making sure to wear the gold necklace and earrings he’d given you, because you loved the way he noticed. he noticed every single time.

michael went out of his way to ask you for your opinions in the studio. constantly turning around in his chair to engage with you. he never made you feel small or less than. your dreams of producing and writing felt brighter than ever, but they were slowly becoming tangled with the dream of him.

he was pulling you deeper into his world, and you went willingly, heart racing, completely enchanted.

before you knew it, you were spending every minute of every day with him. mornings and evenings in the studio were dedicated to him: taking his notes with extra care, keeping his tea at the perfect temperature, dimming the lights the moment his eyes started to squint. nights were spent in his bed, filled to the brim with his cock while he kissed your face and whispered how perfect you were; his muse, his everything.

so when he told you he had to leave town for a few days for a charity event, your heart shattered. it wasn’t normal. you knew it wasn’t normal to be so entangled with someone that the idea of being apart for 48 hours felt impossible. you had begged him to stay, taking his packed bag from his hands and forcing him down onto his bed. straddling his lap firmly while you licked his neck, placing delicate kisses below his ear, whispering “stay.”

“i’m sorry, baby,” he practically moaned, placing his hands gently on your waist while you continued your assault on his neck. “i promise i’ll make it up to you.”

“how are you going to do that?” you whispered, sucking his earlobe into your mouth gently.

“you’ll just have to wait and see, baby,” michael replied, lifting you off his lap and placing you down onto the bed next to him. he stood slowly, like he was just as desperate to stay there and worship your needy body. “i’ll be back before you know it. help yourself to anything in the house; my card is on the table. you can use it for anything,” he said sincerely, as he leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on your lips. “i love you so much,” was the last thing he said before he slipped out the door and out of your life for the next two days.

────୨ৎ────

part III, the switch.

the night before michael was due back, you went home to your apartment for the first time in weeks. you hadn’t realized how long it had been until you noticed your answering machine flashing with dozens of missed calls from your friends and family. when was the last time you were with anyone other than michael?

sleeping in your own bed felt… wrong. it didn’t feel like your bed anymore. the whole apartment felt like it was something out of a past life. it all happened so fast that you didn’t even realize what was happening. you had become so consumed by him that you had a hard time figuring out where he ended and where you began.

the night was sleepless. you couldn’t stop thinking about seeing him. it was like you couldn’t even breathe without him. he was the only thought on your mind, fully pushing out your earlier realizations that you didn’t even recognize your own life anymore.

the next morning, you took extra time getting ready, ensuring that you looked exactly how he liked. you even slipped on a shorter skirt than usual, one you typically save for after work hours, just to surprise him once he showed up to the studio.

everything was perfect. except for your piece of shit car that wouldn’t start no matter how many times you turned the key.

you groaned, flopping your forehead onto the steering wheel in frustration. as you were about to go back inside to grab the phone to call a cab, your neighbor, mr. harlan, called out.

“car trouble again?” he asked as he was standing in the doorway with a briefcase in his hands.

“as always!” you replied, still turning to go back inside.

“you going to work? i can drop you off”

mr. harlan had given you rides to work before, when you were just an intern, before you met michael. he was a nice man, one who never gave the creeps. he was about 45, with salt and pepper hair and a kind smile. he reminded you of your father.

“i can call a cab; it’s okay.”

“i’m going right down the road from there, it’s no trouble, sweetheart.” you looked down at the watch michael had gotten for you, realizing that if you weren’t at the studio in thirty minutes, teddy would have your head on a stick.

“are you sure?” you asked politely. mr. harlan just motioned for you to get in the car, and you did.

the ride was short and pleasant, making small talk with mr. harlan as he asked you about your job, making a quick comment that “no one’s seen you around for a while.”

before you knew it, you were at work, with five minutes to spare. you turned to him with a genuine smile, “thank you so much mr. harlan, really.” you leaned over and gave him a quick appreciative hug. he patted your back gently. you smiled brightly as you pulled away, “you’re a lifesaver.”

after a quick touch-up in the bathroom, you made your way to the control room. wanting to make sure you set everything up perfectly for michael’s arrival later in the day. as you walked in, you felt your heart skip a beat. michael was already there, sitting at the mixing board with a notebook and pen in his hand.

“oh my god, you scared me!” you exclaimed, feeling your heart rate increase at the sight of him.

he didn’t turn around. he didn’t move a muscle.

you dropped your clipboard and bag on the couch as you made your way over to him. “what are you doing here?” you asked excitedly. “i thought you were getting in later?”

nothing.

your heart rate spiked again, not from excitement, but from rising dread. your stomach twisted with confusion.

“is everything okay?” you asked, grabbing his shoulder gently. he didn’t even look at you. just continued scribbling in his notepad like you didn’t exist.

you were interrupted by teddy, bruce and bill’s arrival to the room. which signaled it was time for you to be the junior assistant producer, not the concerned girlfriend.

your stomach twisted with nerves all day long. every thought was consumed by the terrifying possibility that the love he had poured into you so completely could be taken away in an instant.

his silence was tearing you apart. what happened? did something happen on his trip? did you do something?

you tried your best to carry on with your routine as normal, but this time he ignored every gesture. when you gave him more water, he didn’t even turn his head to look at you; he just continued his conversation with your boss. when you lowered the lights for him later in the session, he didn’t mouth ‘thank you’ to you like he normally did. he was stone cold. it was like you weren’t even there. it was driving you crazy.

it was eating you alive. every ignored glance, every silent dismissal, carved a deeper hole inside your chest.

the day dragged for what felt like an eternity, your chest aching with confusion, desperate to get anything out of michael. once the others stepped out for their smoke break, leaving you and michael alone, you approached him. your voice barely above a whisper.

“michael… what’s wrong? did something happen? you’re scaring me.”

he finally turned his head, eyes dark and cold. he had a look on his face that you had never seen before. it made your chest tighten.

“who was that?” he asked calmly, voice low and controlled. you looked at him with pure confusion.

“mr. harlan?” you asked, keeping your voice low in case anyone was lingering in the hallway. “he’s my neighbor. my car wouldn’t start this morning, so he gave me a ride… is that what this is about?”

michael searched your face for what had to be the thousandth time since he met you. only this time, he wasn’t studying your face to memorize it. he was hunting for a sign of dishonesty. “a ride,” he repeated, keeping his glare intense.

“yes, michael. a ride.”

“then tell him to give you one back home,” he stated coldly as he stood, grabbing his jacket off the back of his chair. he brushed past you without another word.

the next week was agonizing.

every day he came to the studio late, and every day he left early, without looking in your direction once. he wore his aviators the entire time, like he was deliberately blocking you from seeing his eyes.

you spent every day watching him ignore you at work, then spent every night calling his bedroom phone dozens of times, leaving messages of desperation that always went unanswered. each silent hour chipped away at your sanity. you couldn’t eat, you couldn’t sleep. you felt like a shadow of yourself…. like you didn’t exist for yourself anymore. instead, you were an extension of him, and you couldn’t function without him.

you started to make mistakes at work. on thursday, day 4 of silence, you handed teddy a mislabeled tape. he scolded you right then and there, in front of your colleagues, and in front of michael. the old you would’ve been devastated to make such a stupid mistake at a job that meant the world to you… but the new you was only devastated that michael sat there, expressionless behind his aviators, watching you fight back tears at the embarrassment.

he offered you zero comfort as he left early again that day.

by friday, you were physically and mentally exhausted. you felt hollow. starved. like someone had reached inside your chest and ripped out the warmth he had so carefully filled you with. the same man who told you he loved you more than he’d ever loved anyone was now making you feel completely discarded. unimportant. unworthy. the contrast was physically painful. every small movement he made sent your heart lurching with desperate hope, only for it to crash violently when he looked straight through you.

the guilt was relentless. michael’s silence made it crystal clear: this was your fault. you had done this. the realization made you nauseous. all common sense vanished. you knew deep down you hadn’t done anything wrong, yet the guilt ate you alive.

you couldn’t take it anymore. you were unraveling at a terrifying rate.

teddy and the others had stepped out to grab dinner, and to your surprise michael stayed behind. leaving the two of you alone for the first time in days. the studio was silent except for the low hum of the equipment. michael stayed sat at the mixing board, staring at a track list. you stood at the back of the room for a long moment, heart hammering, before you finally spoke.

“michael…” your voice came out small and shaky. “please. i can’t stand this anymore.”

he didn’t turn around.

you moved closer until you were standing right beside him. tears were threatening to spill from your eyes. “i’m so sorry. i never meant to hurt you. there’s no one else. only you. i’ll do anything to make this right. i love you.” you confessed through a shaky breath.

he removed his aviators slowly, setting them on the console with deliberate care, before finally turning to look at you. his eyes were dark, filled with jealousy and hurt. he stood from his chair, towering over you in the dim studio light.

you were shaking, guilt and desperation clawing at your throat. “tell me what to do,” you whispered brokenly. “i’ll do anything. please.”

michael stared at you for a long and heavy moment. jealousy and love twisted together in his expression. then he walked past you without a word. for one terrifying second, you thought he was going to leave. instead, he locked the studio door with a quiet click that echoed throughout the tension filled room.

“get on your knees,” he ordered, voice low and commanding.

“what?” you choked out, baffled by his tone and words.

he stepped closer, pupils blown wide, the thick outline of his cock already straining against his jeans. he looked at you like he never had before… like he was starving and possessive.

“prove it to me,” he said, voice low and rough. “prove that you’re mine.”

in that moment, something shifted in him. the power he had over you was intoxicating, and he knew it.

your legs gave out before your mind could catch up. you dropped in front of him, knees hitting the carpet, heart hammering so hard you felt dizzy. you looked up at him as he unzipped his jeans, pulled out his thick, heavy cock, and fisted it slowly right in front of your face.

“open,” he ordered.

you obeyed instantly, lips parting. he grabbed the back of your head and pushed forward, sliding his cock into your mouth in one quick thrust.

“fuck… that’s it,” he groaned, voice dripping with lust. “take it like a good girl.”

he fucked your mouth with deep strokes, holding your head in place while you drooled and gagged around him.

“look at me,” he growled, fingers tightening in your hair. “look at me while i own this pretty mouth.”

you looked up at him through your lashes, your eyes lightly lined with tears as you took him as deep as you could. you felt your panties pool with your arousal at his words. you felt completely dominated by him… and you seemed to love it by the way you were throbbing underneath your skirt.

his thrusts were relentless, caring only about his pleasure for the first time. your throat tightened around his length as you struggled to breathe through your nose. you were too desperate for him to want you again to even consider tapping out.

sensing you needed a break, he pulled out suddenly, leaving you gasping for air as he stood above you. his cock was glistening with your spit as he stroked himself roughly, staring down at you with dark, possessive eyes.

“you okay?” he practically moaned out; the sight was fucking obscene. the way he towered above you, tugging at his length. he looked so powerful. he had complete control over you, and he loved it.

you were breathing hard, chest rapidly falling up and down, your heart going a million miles a minute. you couldn’t help but smile as you nodded at him, he’s still making sure i’m okay. that was the loudest thought in your head.

he shook his head slightly, acknowledging your consent, then slapped his cock repeatedly against your lips. “beg for it,” he demanded, “beg me to fuck your throat some more.”

“please, michael… please use me. i’ll be a good girl i promise.”

a dark, satisfied sound left his throat as he slid his cock back into your mouth, fucking it harder.

“good girl,” he rasped. “look so pretty gagging on my cock, baby.” he moaned his pet name for you so easily that it made your stomach twist in desire. his praise was the most important thing in the world to you. hearing him call you good, pretty, baby being enough to get you clenching around nothing as he used you.

“i’m gonna come down your throat,” he growled, staring down at you with possessive eyes. “and you’re going to swallow every drop like a good girl. do you understand?”

you whimpered around his cock, nodding desperately as best you could. with a low, guttural groan, michael buried himself deep and came hard. thick, hot spurts of his release flooded your mouth and slid down your throat as he held your head in place.

“swallow it all. that’s it… good fucking girl,” he moaned.

you obeyed, throat working around him as you swallowed every drop. the act felt degrading and intimate all at once. something he had never made you do before.

when he finally pulled out, you were gasping, coughing… and so wet. your lips were swollen and slick with a mixture of your spit and bits of his cum. you felt owned and wanted all at once.

michael dropped to his knees in front of you almost immediately. his hands were gentle as they cupped your face, his eyes softening.

“come here, baby,” he whispered before pulling you in for a deep, claiming kiss. his tongue brushed against yours, tasting what he had done to you. he eventually pulled away, pressing a quick kiss to your nose before resting his forehead against yours.

“i’m sorry,” you whispered, looking up at him with tear-stained and desperate eyes.

“i know,” he responded, brushing his thumb across your swollen lips. “i’m terrified of losing you,” he confessed softly, sincerity laced in his words. “i love you so much.”

you felt all of your anxiety wash away in that exact moment. you hadn’t even noticed how he didn’t apologize for ignoring you all week long… all you felt was pure relief. like you were an addict finally getting a fix.

“i love you so much, michael.” you replied, grabbing his face as his forehead remained against yours. “you’ll never lose me.”

for the first time, his love felt conditional… and you had just proven you would do anything to keep it.

────୨ৎ────

part IV, the descent.

the days after that night in that studio were so euphoric. you were on a complete high, reeling from the way he degraded you in such a loving way. beyond relieved that he had finally put you out of the misery of missing him. things felt so good again.

he returned to his loving and attentive ways immediately, reminding you exactly why you had fallen in love with him. he thanked you for every small thing you did for him in the studio, and resumed asking you for your opinion on tracks. once he even pulled you into his lap when people left the room, whispering how proud he was of you. repeatedly saying, “no one understands me like you do.”

the sex returned instantly too, but now it carried a new edge. he was still tender for the most part, taking his time worshipping you and pressing his lips to the pulse point on your neck like he wanted to taste your heartbeat. but occasionally he would hold your throat while he stretched you wide with his cock as deep as he could go, admiring the way he could see the outline of himself in your stomach. sometimes making you repeat “i’m only yours” like a prayer before he lets you finish.

you learned very quickly that if you ever upset him, he would simply draw back. sometimes slowly… sometimes all at once. and you couldn’t stand the thought of losing his warmth. losing his love.

the more love he gave you, the more intoxicated you became. you strived to be perfect for him; wearing his favorite outfits, the lipstick he complimented most. it felt right. it felt natural to cater to him. you loved how it made you feel when he was pleased with you. you would go to the ends of the earth to keep him smiling at you.

the gifts kept coming: new louboutins, surprise weekend getaways, beautiful lingerie…  one evening, tangled together in bed, hot and sweaty after your respective orgasms, he reached into the bedside table and pulled out a leather journal.

“i’ve been wanting to give you this,” he whispered, handing you the small notebook. “you’re the only person i’ve ever given everything to,” he said. moving his hands to brush your hair behind your ear so he could watch your face as you opened it.

inside, michael had written several pages of his own thoughts, lyrics, and little love notes with silly drawings scribbled next to them.

you looked up at him with loving eyes. he looked so handsome. the warm firelight danced across his face so delicately. his curls, sweaty and loose, fell into his face as he looked back at you.

“flip to the end, baby.”

you flipped through the blank pages of the journal to find a note at the end: “because your mind is as beautiful as you are. write everything here. i want to know every part of you. love, michael.”

“i don’t know how i ever worked before i met you,” he said, voice genuine. “you’re my muse. maybe i can be yours… write all of your ideas here. for songs, for your future, i’ll help you get everything you’ve ever wanted.”

your mind was dizzy with love. you had never imagined love could feel this strong, this consuming, this holy.

you rode him like you were trying to climb inside his soul. you pushed him down onto the bed and straddled his hips, sinking onto his thick cock in one slow, greedy motion. a broken moan left your lips as he stretched you open. michael’s hands gripped your waist tightly, but he let you set the pace, watching your face twist in pleasure as you adjusted to his size.

you rolled your hips desperately, taking him deeper with every movement. the wet sound of your bodies meeting filled the room, along with your soft, needy whimpers for him.

“fuck, baby,” he groaned, eyes dark as you began to bounce on his cock. “look at you. so fucking obsessed with me.”

you leaned forward, bracing your hands on his chest, riding him harder. “i love you,” you gasped. “i love you so much.”

his grip tightened, fingers digging into your skin as he pulled you deeper. “then show me,” he rasped. “show me who this pussy belongs to.”

his words sent a fresh wave of heat through you. you rode him faster, grinding down on him with every stroke, chasing the feeling only he could give you.

“god, you feel so good,” he moaned, eyes dark as he thrusted up to meet your rhythm. “this pussy was made to be fucked by me. made to be filled by me.”

you came hard around his cock, the feeling of him pulling you deeper combined with the quiet shame of being so openly objectified sending you over the edge. as you cried out his name, clenching around him, he flipped you over without warning.

he pinned your wrists above your head and fucked you through your orgasm with deep, punishing thrusts.

“you’re mine,” he growled, voice low and possessive. “no one else gets you. no one else gets to touch you. no one else gets this.” he slammed into you harder. “say it.”

“i’m yours,” you sobbed, tears of overwhelming pleasure slipping down your cheeks. your overstimulated pussy being fucked mercilessly by him, “only yours, michael.”

“you belong to me,” he moaned as he came inside of you for the first time. “take it. take all of me.” he buried himself to the hilt, pushing himself up against the deepest part of you. you felt his cum flood deep into you as he throbbed inside of your clenching hole. he stayed pressed up against you for what felt like forever, breathing hard against your neck while he slowly and gently fucked his hot seed deeper inside of you.

you had never been finished in before. the feeling was overwhelming. physically and emotionally. you could feel each strong spurt marking you from the inside. filling you so completely that the excess started to leak out around where you were stretched tight around him.

emotionally, you felt claimed. and it terrified you how much you wanted it. how badly you needed to be his.

tears slipped down your cheeks as you clung to him, trembling. he lifted his head from your neck and kissed them away as he softened inside of you, murmuring how much he adored you. he pulled out gently and gathered you into his arms, holding you impossibly tight. “my perfect girl,” he murmured, stroking your hair. “i don’t know what i’d do without you.”

from that point on, he stopped pulling out and always finished inside of you.

the months following blurred into something you no longer recognized as your own life. michael had meticulously wrapped himself into the very fabric of your being. he was at the forefront of everything.

you stopped having car issues because michael bought you your dream car, and then gently suggested you just use one of his drivers instead. “it’s safer,” he said one night while kissing along your collarbone, “i can’t focus if i’m worried about you, baby. let me take care of you the way you take care of me.”

he started paying your rent without asking, then soothed your hesitation with soft kisses and quiet logic. “i feel guilty that you’re paying for a place you’re barely at anymore. you’ll always have a home with me.”

every time your family or friends called, he was right there. rubbing your back gently as you spoke, whispering sweet nothings in your other ear.

his anger was never loud. he never raised his voice at you. he was never violent. he didn’t need to be.

he had trained you well.

teddy had a guest in the studio one night, a member of the new band blackstreet, who teddy swore was going to be the next big thing. you must’ve spoken to the man for too long, or smiled at him too warmly, because you felt michael’s eyes burn into you immediately.

you instantly felt guilt twisting in your stomach… you knew that look. you had learned to read every subtle shift in his mood like your life depended on it. and right now, it felt like it did.

michael didn’t give you the silent treatment like before; this time he simply removed the warmth. he stopped calling you “baby” or “sweet girl”, and when you reached for his hand in the car, he let you hold it but offered no squeeze in return. at night, he still held you close, his body a solid presence against yours, but the tender kisses behind your ear and along your arms were gone. the absence of those small affections carved deeper into you than any argument ever could.

you tried desperately to bridge the gap. one evening, curled against his chest in bed, you whispered, “i love you.” he responded with the same words, voice soft, but he didn’t look at you. his gaze stayed fixed on the ceiling, and the conditional nature of his love had never felt more real, or more terrifying.

the fear that he might slip away completely ate away at you. you couldn’t bear another day of his emotional distance. so that night, after he left for a late meeting, you slipped into his favorite lingerie… a delicate black lace set he had once said made you look like his own personal angel.

your hands trembled as you fastened the garters. you had bought a shiny pair of metal cuffs earlier that day… cuffs you hoped would prove how far you were willing to go. when you heard the front door open, your heart slammed against your chest. you stood in the middle of the bedroom, the cuffs dangling from your fingers, the dim lamplight casting soft shadows across your barely-covered body.

michael stepped into the room and stopped short, eyes widening slightly at the sight of you.

“what are you doing?” he asked, voice low, a mix of surprise and something darker flickering across his face.

you stepped closer, holding the handcuffs out to him like an offering. your voice came out breathy, laced with desperation and a dangerous kind of devotion.

“i’m offering you everything,” you whispered, eyes locked on his. “all of me. i’m yours to use however you want.”

for a moment, he just stared at you, the air between you thick with tension. then something in his expression shifted; hunger overtaking the lingering coldness. he grabbed the handcuffs from your hand, the metal clicking softly as he circled behind you. he pulled your arms back firmly and locked the cuffs around your wrists, the cool bite of the metal sending shivers down your spine, before pulling you back into him. you could feel how hard he was already… your desperation making all the blood rush to his cock.

his hand slid down your body possessively, reaching between your legs. his fingers brushed over your soaked lace panties, pressing against your aching pussy.

“look at how wet you get when you submit to me,” he murmured, voice rough and low against your ear. he pushed the lace aside and sank two fingers inside you without warning, curling them deep. you gasped, knees nearly buckling at the sudden fullness.

“so fucking eager,” he continued, pumping his fingers slowly, deliberately. “so pathetic and perfect for me.”

he withdrew his fingers quickly, leaving you throbbing and empty, and guided you toward the large mirror. he bent you over the edge of the bed, your cuffed hands resting against your lower back. you watched in the reflection as he freed his thick cock, stroking it only once before lining himself up.

“eyes on the mirror,” he ordered, gripping your hips hard enough to bruise. “i want you to watch exactly what i do to you… and what you let me do.”

he thrust into you in one brutal stroke, the sudden stretch intense and consuming. his pace was instantly rough, giving you no time to adjust as he yanked back on the cuffs restraining your arms behind your back, forcing your body to arch for him.

“that’s it,” he groaned, voice low and filthy. “look at how this pussy swallows my cock. so desperate to be fucked by me.”

the combination of the restraints, his degrading words, and the relentless pleasure left you trembling. tears of overwhelming sensation slipping down your cheeks as you stared at your reflection; flushed, bound, completely at his mercy. the fucked-up thing was how much wetter it made you. he could feel it, your arousal coating his cock and dripping down your thighs.

“you love this, don’t you?” he growled, slamming into you harder, using the cuffs to pull you back onto him with every thrust. “you love it when i use you, love knowing i own every inch of you.”

“yes- yes, i love it,” you sobbed, voice breaking.

“good girl,” he praised, “who do you belong to, baby?” he asked as he started rolling his hips, swirling the tip of his cock impossibly deep inside of you. “tell me.”

the filth spewing from his lips mixed with the overwhelming pleasure sent you spiraling. you screamed out “you, you, you” as your orgasm crashed over you violently. your pussy clenching around him as you cried out for him, tears flowing freely now.

michael didn’t slow down. he fucked you through it, chasing his own release. he followed right behind with a deep, guttural groan, burying himself as deep as he could possibly go before shooting his load inside of you.

he reached down between your thighs, where the two of you were still connected, and carefully scooped up the cum that was dripping out of you and down his cock on his fingers before grabbing your hair with his other hand to force you to look back into the mirror.

he moved his cum soaked fingers in front of your face, and without him needing to say a word, you opened your mouth, swirling your tongue around his fingers, hallowing your cheeks to suck him clean.

he moaned deeply at the sight of your reflection in the mirror in front of him, pushing his fingers deeper in your mouth as you also watched yourself taste him.

he gently pulled out, unlocked the handcuffs, then turned you around and pulled you into his arms. the sudden gentleness after the roughness made you latch onto him harder. he pressed soft kisses to your forehead, your temples, your swollen lips.

“you’re so beautiful,” he whispered, voice hoarse but warm again. “i needed that. you always know what i need.”

after that night, you consciously stopped making eye contact with other men, especially when michael was around. you had noticed how much more he praised you when your attention belonged only to him.

he would always be subtle, pulling you in for a hug from behind and whispering, “you’ve been so good to me lately.” before showering the back of your neck in kisses.

the two of you spent countless sleepless nights together curled up on the couch flipping through the journal he gave you. he would pull you into his lap, gently rubbing your back as he flipped through your scribbles of lyrics and arrangement ideas.

subconsciously, you were writing what you thought he would like. you memorized the way he worked in the studio. you convinced yourself it was still passion for the work. but he had become your work. your mentor. your provider. and you were so thankful he was all of those things wrapped into one.

“these are beautiful,” he would whisper, pointing to different lyrics throughout the journal. “i love the way you think, baby,” he’d say, kissing your temple. and all you could think about was him.

the long days in the studio dwindled as the album neared completion. the energy was bittersweet. a mix of pride and quiet melancholy as everyone sensed the end of a chapter approaching.

one afternoon, teddy pulled you aside near the back of the control room while michael was momentarily out of earshot.

“you’ve been incredible, kid. michael’s been singing your praises nonstop. to me, to the label, everyone. he really believes in you. i’ve got some more hands-on work coming up with blackstreet after this wraps. real producing credits. you earned this. you should thank him; he’s the reason doors are opening for you like this.”

you smiled, a small flicker of genuine professional excitement warming your chest for the first time in months. “teddy, wow, i… thank you. that means everything.”

that night, curled up against his chest on the couch, you told him what teddy had said. your voice was gentle, full of gratitude.

“he said i earned it… and that i should thank you. that you’ve really been looking out for me.”

michael pulled you closer, stuffing his face in the crook of your neck, breathing in your scent. his voice was low, warm, and laced with that familiar need.

“he’s right, baby, you did earn it… and you should thank me,” he said softly, placing a quick kiss to your skin as he lifted his head from your neck. he looked at you with those big brown eyes, soft and vulnerable but laced with quiet desperation. “thank me by working with me.”

you furrowed your brows, completely confused. “work with you?” you repeated, searching his face.

“i can’t imagine doing another album without you. you always know what i’m thinking before i even say it.” his thumb brushed your lower lip, eyes soft but intense. “i’ve given you everything… haven’t i? i kept my word,” he paused, his fingers gently tracing your jaw, “please give this to me.”

you felt that familiar pull; the intoxicating mix of love and the deep fear of disappointing him. but this time there was no internal fight. you leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his lips with complete devotion.

he really had given you everything. a life of luxury, of love. he had taken a chance on you when no one else would. and now he was offering you a future by his side.

“i’ll resign after the album is finished,” you reassured him, sweeping the curls from his face as his eyes grew larger with each word that fell from your lips. “i don’t want to do any of it without you either.”

he exhaled like a weight had been lifted, pulling you tighter into his chest. in that quiet moment, you felt the final piece of yourself settle fully into his grasp. your dreams, your career, your future… they all belonged to him now. and you had never felt more at peace with it.

[michaeldiary]

　　﹕   (✿˘͈ᵕ˘͈)   ┈  public displays of affection.

  ﹒ ୨୧◞  。bad .ᐟ

  ﹒ ୨୧◞  。summary : well! congratufuckinglations to whoever got to bounce on it during bad era! (it’s you........ bitch.)

  ﹒ ୨୧◞  。before you read : fem reader + pronouns, established relationship, famous!reader, lots of affection and kissing! mentions of babies and marriage, a teeny bit naughty at the very end, they use “patty cake” as a code word for sex. third person and told from an outsider’s view for a large portion of this!

  ﹒ ୨୧◞  。author’s note : surprise! i’m back! i’m trying something new because I think it’s too freaking cute. no y/n or (name). instead, i’ll use (✿) in place of your name. we’ll see how I like it! enjoy! <3

Important people were packed into the same ballroom. From record executives drifting from table to table with drinks in hand to publicists keeping one eye on their clients and the other on the photographers lining the perimeter of the room. Somewhere near the front, a speaker stood behind a podium thanking sponsors who were already checking their watches—it was supposed to be an evening of networking and press photos. And really, it was a beautifully put together event, with round tables dressed in white linen and crystal glasses catching the lights overhead..

But neither of Michael or (✿) seemed.. particularly interested in why they’d been invited in the first place. Sometime throughout the evening, Michael turned his chair toward hers a bit, and it stayed there the rest of the night. His body naturally faced hers, one knee resting against hers beneath the table while his arm draped comfortably across the back of her chair. Anyone trying to get his attention usually had to wait until she finished talking first. Photographers and paparazzi were reminded more than once to keep their attention on the night’s speakers.

And they tried.

For maybe ten minutes before the cameras were back on the couple. It wasn’t an every day treat to see the two biggest entertainers in the world love up on each other like this.

She was forever finding little reasons to touch him, always finding something to do. She’d flatten the front of his jacket after he shifted in his seat, running her fingertips over his lapel checking that it was sitting properly. Every now and then she’d absentmindedly take hold of his tie, giving it the tiniest adjustment before smoothing it back against his shirt. She never interrupted herself, their conversation carried on the entire time with dainty hands working independently while her attention stayed on whatever she was telling him.

Michael didn’t tease her for the public displays of affection, he definitely didn’t stop her either. He just watched her, because he loved having her undivided attention. Sometimes he’d lower his head a little without thinking, making it easier for her to reach him. Or sometimes he’d smile before she’d even touched him because he’d already guessed what she was about to do. It was impossible to miss how happy and giddy he looked letting her fuss over him. The second she would pull her hands away, he found some excuse to bring them back, reaching for her wrist and lacing their fingers together.

Michael and (✿) were like.. obnoxiously happy together. A type of couple everyone swore they couldn’t stand until they spent five minutes around them and realized.. there wasn’t actually anything to dislike. They weren’t loud, or even really showing off. They were just.. relentlessly fond of each other. Every glance turned into a smile. And every one of those smiles turned into one reaching for the other’s hand. Conversations somehow ended with them giggling over something no one else had heard, and honestly? It probably wasn’t even that funny. It was enough to make people groan into their champagne before admitting, very reluctantly, that it was kind of adorable. “Congratufuckinglations!” and “That’s Mama y Papa!” type of thing. One would be absolutely gutted to find out a break up in the blogs because.. you really are supporting and rooting them.

Michael wore his sunglasses indoors, nothing new. She knew when he got around certain people he liked keeping them on but she loved his eyes and often got antsy when she couldn’t see them for too long, telling him he feels “far away” when he feels like this.

At one point her hand drifted toward his face. She slipped a finger beneath the bridge of his sunglasses and gently pushed them up.

Just a little.

She paused there, studying him for a few seconds with an expression somewhere between amusement and affection. Michael looked back, his eyes met hers without hesitation and before long that pretty, pretty smile spread across his face, slow enough that the photographers caught every stage of it. She smiled too, but it felt like it was almost to herself before she eased the sunglasses back into place with gentle hands, straightening them and giving the side of the frame the lightest tap with her fingertip.

Her hand lingered.

Instead of pulling away, it slipped behind his neck, disappearing beneath the curls resting against his collar. Her thumb settled against the warm skin at the nape of his neck and began slow, absent circles. Michael’s shoulders loosened and his head tipped ever so slightly toward her hand, and he stayed there, eyes still on her smiling through whatever story she’d started telling him.

At some point, her leg ended up draped across his. No one quite caught how.

One minute they were sitting side by side, listening with only half their attention as someone across the room addressed the crowd. The next, Michael had gently gathered her leg beneath the table and lifted it across both of his knees. It didn't seem to surprise her as she barely paused in the middle of whatever she was saying, simply shifting in her chair while he settled her leg across his lap with absentminded care.

She pointed toward one of her high heels, lifting her foot just enough to show him whatever had caught her attention. From where the cameras stood, it looked like she was complaining about something. The strap, maybe. The height. She spoke with animated little gestures, eyebrows pulling together in exaggerated frustration while Michael listened with the sort of patient expression he had for stories he’d already heard twice.

Then he chuckled—still smiling as he slipped one hand beneath her ankle, his thumb resting lightly against the inside of it while his fingers curled around the back of her heel. He turned her foot this way and that, inspecting it. Whatever conclusion he reached only seemed to amuse him more.

She gave him a look and her hand landed lightly against his forearm in what was very obviously an attempt to make him stop.

It had absolutely no effect because one thing about Michael, is he’s going to play—all day.

Instead, his thumb began tracing slow circles over the side of her ankle while he gently rolled her foot back and forth in his hand. His other hand drifted higher, smoothing absent strokes over the curve of her calf without a second thought, his fingertips barely grazing the fabric of her dress where it met her skin. He looked completely entertained by whatever she was saying, smiling at her with that familiar grin while she continued fussing, shaking her head and quietly swatting at his wrist again.

From across the room, it looked very much like she was scolding him. “Michael, stop it.”

From the expression on Michael's face, it looked like he intended to ignore every word of it.

He only smiled wider and she tried one last time, pointing toward her shoe again with an expression that suggested she was making an entirely different point than the one he’d decided to hear. Michael glanced dutifully at the heel for all of two seconds before his attention drifted right back to her. His hand never left her leg.

He leaned over in the middle of whatever she was saying, the thought had simply crossed his mind and he’d acted on it before it could disappear. His hand found the side of her face for only a second as he pressed a quick kiss against her lips.

It was over almost as soon as it began.

Except he never really left. He lingered just a few inches away, close enough that their noses nearly brushed. His smile had softened into something like be was endeared, his eyes dropping back to her lips because he’d gotten distracted halfway through pulling away. It looked like it seemed entirely possible he’d forgotten they were sitting in the middle of a ballroom filled with people.

Whatever she’d been talking about stopped mid sentence.

She looked back up at him with the tiniest pout, lips still pursed from the kiss, waiting expectantly because one kiss clearly hadn’t been enough. There was something almost impatient about it, like she’d been interrupted and fully intended on collecting what she believed she was owed before continuing her story.

Michael looked at her for another second then he leaned in again for another quick kiss, even shorter than the first.

She seemed satisfied this time, the corners of her mouth curling upward as she finally settled back into her chair. Before he could pull away completely, though, she caught his chin lightly between her fingers.

Her lip gloss had transferred onto him.

She glanced at his mouth, smiling to herself as the pad of her thumb gently wiped the shine from his bottom lip. Michael stayed perfectly still, letting her fuss over him with the same e endeared expression he’d worn all evening. When she finished, she gave his lip one last absentminded swipe, admiring her work for half a second before dropping her hand back into her lap.

After a couple more hours ballroom slowly emptied around them. Chairs scraped against polished floors, security began guiding guests toward the exits, and the crowd outside had already grown thick behind the barricades. Camera flashes bounced off the glass doors before they were even opened, the waiting photographers spotting familiar faces through the windows and shuffling into position.

Michael stepped out first and she followed a heartbeat later, their hands already intertwined. It was the sort of thing people expected from newly smitten couples, except they’d been together for about a year.

The shouting started immediately.

Questions overlapped until they became impossible to separate.

“Michael!”

“Over here!”

“You look beautiful, (✿) !”

“How was the event tonight?”

She glanced toward the voices first.

“It was lovely,” She answered with an easy smile, giving the crowd a little wave before looking back at Michael as they continued down the sidewalk. He was smiling too, offering a small nod with his sunglasses still sitting high on his nose despite the sun having disappeared hours earlier.

Another photographer called after them. “When are you two tying the knot?”

Oh!

The question caught both of them off guard and she laughed first feeling her cheeks and ear tips get warm. Michael immediately looked down shyly, and the reaction only made everyone around them laugh harder. It was the kind of question they had clearly heard before, but neither of them had mastered the art of pretending it didn’t affect them. She tucked a little closer to his side giggling, while Michael shook his head behind.

Then he looked at her, not fully but just a glance from over the top of his frames. That was enough.

She caught it and immediately smiled at him, because she knew exactly what that look meant. A quiet little check in—a private ESP shared between them before either of them acknowledged anyone else.

“We’re.. enjoying each other’s company right now.” More shouting followed before she’d even finished speaking.

Michael barely heard any of it; the cameras, the questions, the security guards urging them toward the waiting car.

It all blurred together the second she looked at him.

He spent the entire evening watching people watch them, and somehow she still managed to make him feel like there wasn’t another person in the room.

She always answered questions like that with the same diplomacy, never sounding flustered, never embarrassed, never trying to turn their relationship into a spectacle. She gave people enough to satisfy them, then quietly closed the door before anyone could step inside. He admired that about her. More than admired it. He relied on it.

She squeezed his hand once as they walked.

He squeezed back.

Without thinking, his thumb found the side of her hand, tracing the same slow path it always did whenever they walked together. It had become such a habit that he doubted either of them noticed anymore.

He looked down at their hands for a second and back at her. She was still smiling to herself. He wondered if she’d realized she’d called them “each other’s company.”

The words echoed around in his head with ridiculous persistence.

Each other’s.

It sounded.. nice. His smile crept back before he could stop it.

She caught it. “What?”

He only shook his head.

Nothing. He just liked the way she’d said it.

The ride back to their hotel passed in comfortable silence.

Every so often she’d catch him looking at her and smile to herself, smoothing a thumb over the back of his hand where it rested between them. He’d answer by bringing her knuckles to his lips for the quickest kiss before setting her hand back down again, he also couldn’t seem to go more than a few minutes without finding a reason to touch her.

By the time they reached the hotel, the suite was quiet.

She slipped off her heels the moment they stepped inside, leaving them abandoned beside the entryway with a relieved sigh. Michael laughed under his breath as he loosened his bow tie, setting his sunglasses on the coffee table.

He settled onto the couch, shoulders finally relaxing against the cushions, only for her to wander over a moment later with a glass of red wine in one hand.

She climbed onto the couch and settled across his lap, one knee rested on either side of him and her dress spilled over his legs while she balanced her wine glass carefully in one hand. Her free hand found his face almost immediately, fingertips traced the edge of his jaw.

Slowly. Back and forth.

He tilted into her touch without thinking.

She turned the stem slowly between her manicured fingertips while Michael continued looking at her with the same dazed and smitten look he hadn’t managed to shake all evening.

“You want some?” She asked.

Instead of reaching for the glass, he leaned forward.

Tilting the glass carefully, she brought the rim to his lips. Michael took a small sip, never taking his eyes off her as the wine touched his mouth. She steadied the glass until he leaned back again, swallowing before the corners of his mouth lifted.

“Yummy?”

He nodded once.

She was already lowering the glass when his hand settled lightly around her wrist, stopping her just long enough for him to lean in.

Their lips met again.

The kiss was slow and lazy. She smiled into it, her free hand sliding back to his jaw while he tipped his face toward hers. There was still the faint taste of red wine between them, sweet and warm, lingering just enough for her to recognize it before she kissed him again.

When they finally separated, they stayed close, noses brushing.Outside, the city hummed beneath their windows.

“..What are you thinking about, Bambi?” She asked quietly.

Michael’s eyes stayed on hers for another moment before drifting down to the stem of her wine glass, then back again.

“Oh, I dunno..” He blushed, embarrassed by the thought now that he had to say it out loud. “Could you see yourself marrying me, really?”

She stared at him for a second then giggled, he’d managed to ask the question with the same shy clumsy he’d had when he first asked her to be exclusive and official with him.

Her hand slid into his curls at the nape of his neck.

She leaned down and kissed him. It was unhurried, warm, lingering just long enough to make him forget he’d asked anything at all.

When she finally pulled back, their foreheads stayed close.

“Michael, I’ve been hoping you even consider me to be wife material..” She murmured.

“You have?”

She laughed again, this time unable to stop herself, brushing her thumb across his cheek as his grin slowly spread from one corner of his mouth to the other. “Of course.. there’s no one else who understands me the way you do. And I want to be someone you feel safe enough to marry..”

He looked completely delighted. “And babies?”

“As many as you want..” She pecked his lips. “Should we.. get in some practice tonight? Prepare for the real thing..”

“You’re bein’ dirty.” Michael responds, though his body is already reacting to her words feeling the blood start to pump directly into his shaft.

“Am I?” Her hands slide down his chest as she tilted her head at him, fingers fidgeting with his belt to unbuckle it. “I thought you liked playing patty cake with me.”

“You always win..” A half complaint wrapped in affection because yeah: every time they played together.. she ended up steering things exactly where she wanted.

And damn if he didn’t love losing to her anyway.

[michaeldiary]

　　﹕   (✿˘͈ᵕ˘͈)   ┈  public displays of affection.

  ﹒ ୨୧◞  。bad .ᐟ

  ﹒ ୨୧◞  。summary : well! congratufuckinglations to whoever got to bounce on it during bad era! (it’s you........ bitch.)

  ﹒ ୨୧◞  。before you read : fem reader + pronouns, established relationship, famous!reader, lots of affection and kissing! mentions of babies and marriage, a teeny bit naughty at the very end, they use “patty cake” as a code word for sex. third person and told from an outsider’s view for a large portion of this!

  ﹒ ୨୧◞  。author’s note : surprise! i’m back! i’m trying something new because I think it’s too freaking cute. no y/n or (name). instead, i’ll use (✿) in place of your name. we’ll see how I like it! enjoy! <3

Important people were packed into the same ballroom. From record executives drifting from table to table with drinks in hand to publicists keeping one eye on their clients and the other on the photographers lining the perimeter of the room. Somewhere near the front, a speaker stood behind a podium thanking sponsors who were already checking their watches—it was supposed to be an evening of networking and press photos. And really, it was a beautifully put together event, with round tables dressed in white linen and crystal glasses catching the lights overhead..

But neither of Michael or (✿) seemed.. particularly interested in why they’d been invited in the first place. Sometime throughout the evening, Michael turned his chair toward hers a bit, and it stayed there the rest of the night. His body naturally faced hers, one knee resting against hers beneath the table while his arm draped comfortably across the back of her chair. Anyone trying to get his attention usually had to wait until she finished talking first. Photographers and paparazzi were reminded more than once to keep their attention on the night’s speakers.

And they tried.

For maybe ten minutes before the cameras were back on the couple. It wasn’t an every day treat to see the two biggest entertainers in the world love up on each other like this.

She was forever finding little reasons to touch him, always finding something to do. She’d flatten the front of his jacket after he shifted in his seat, running her fingertips over his lapel checking that it was sitting properly. Every now and then she’d absentmindedly take hold of his tie, giving it the tiniest adjustment before smoothing it back against his shirt. She never interrupted herself, their conversation carried on the entire time with dainty hands working independently while her attention stayed on whatever she was telling him.

Michael didn’t tease her for the public displays of affection, he definitely didn’t stop her either. He just watched her, because he loved having her undivided attention. Sometimes he’d lower his head a little without thinking, making it easier for her to reach him. Or sometimes he’d smile before she’d even touched him because he’d already guessed what she was about to do. It was impossible to miss how happy and giddy he looked letting her fuss over him. The second she would pull her hands away, he found some excuse to bring them back, reaching for her wrist and lacing their fingers together.

Michael and (✿) were like.. obnoxiously happy together. A type of couple everyone swore they couldn’t stand until they spent five minutes around them and realized.. there wasn’t actually anything to dislike. They weren’t loud, or even really showing off. They were just.. relentlessly fond of each other. Every glance turned into a smile. And every one of those smiles turned into one reaching for the other’s hand. Conversations somehow ended with them giggling over something no one else had heard, and honestly? It probably wasn’t even that funny. It was enough to make people groan into their champagne before admitting, very reluctantly, that it was kind of adorable. “Congratufuckinglations!” and “That’s Mama y Papa!” type of thing. One would be absolutely gutted to find out a break up in the blogs because.. you really are supporting and rooting them.

Michael wore his sunglasses indoors, nothing new. She knew when he got around certain people he liked keeping them on but she loved his eyes and often got antsy when she couldn’t see them for too long, telling him he feels “far away” when he feels like this.

At one point her hand drifted toward his face. She slipped a finger beneath the bridge of his sunglasses and gently pushed them up.

Just a little.

She paused there, studying him for a few seconds with an expression somewhere between amusement and affection. Michael looked back, his eyes met hers without hesitation and before long that pretty, pretty smile spread across his face, slow enough that the photographers caught every stage of it. She smiled too, but it felt like it was almost to herself before she eased the sunglasses back into place with gentle hands, straightening them and giving the side of the frame the lightest tap with her fingertip.

Her hand lingered.

Instead of pulling away, it slipped behind his neck, disappearing beneath the curls resting against his collar. Her thumb settled against the warm skin at the nape of his neck and began slow, absent circles. Michael’s shoulders loosened and his head tipped ever so slightly toward her hand, and he stayed there, eyes still on her smiling through whatever story she’d started telling him.

At some point, her leg ended up draped across his. No one quite caught how.

One minute they were sitting side by side, listening with only half their attention as someone across the room addressed the crowd. The next, Michael had gently gathered her leg beneath the table and lifted it across both of his knees. It didn't seem to surprise her as she barely paused in the middle of whatever she was saying, simply shifting in her chair while he settled her leg across his lap with absentminded care.

She pointed toward one of her high heels, lifting her foot just enough to show him whatever had caught her attention. From where the cameras stood, it looked like she was complaining about something. The strap, maybe. The height. She spoke with animated little gestures, eyebrows pulling together in exaggerated frustration while Michael listened with the sort of patient expression he had for stories he’d already heard twice.

Then he chuckled—still smiling as he slipped one hand beneath her ankle, his thumb resting lightly against the inside of it while his fingers curled around the back of her heel. He turned her foot this way and that, inspecting it. Whatever conclusion he reached only seemed to amuse him more.

She gave him a look and her hand landed lightly against his forearm in what was very obviously an attempt to make him stop.

It had absolutely no effect because one thing about Michael, is he’s going to play—all day.

Instead, his thumb began tracing slow circles over the side of her ankle while he gently rolled her foot back and forth in his hand. His other hand drifted higher, smoothing absent strokes over the curve of her calf without a second thought, his fingertips barely grazing the fabric of her dress where it met her skin. He looked completely entertained by whatever she was saying, smiling at her with that familiar grin while she continued fussing, shaking her head and quietly swatting at his wrist again.

From across the room, it looked very much like she was scolding him. “Michael, stop it.”

From the expression on Michael's face, it looked like he intended to ignore every word of it.

He only smiled wider and she tried one last time, pointing toward her shoe again with an expression that suggested she was making an entirely different point than the one he’d decided to hear. Michael glanced dutifully at the heel for all of two seconds before his attention drifted right back to her. His hand never left her leg.

He leaned over in the middle of whatever she was saying, the thought had simply crossed his mind and he’d acted on it before it could disappear. His hand found the side of her face for only a second as he pressed a quick kiss against her lips.

It was over almost as soon as it began.

Except he never really left. He lingered just a few inches away, close enough that their noses nearly brushed. His smile had softened into something like be was endeared, his eyes dropping back to her lips because he’d gotten distracted halfway through pulling away. It looked like it seemed entirely possible he’d forgotten they were sitting in the middle of a ballroom filled with people.

Whatever she’d been talking about stopped mid sentence.

She looked back up at him with the tiniest pout, lips still pursed from the kiss, waiting expectantly because one kiss clearly hadn’t been enough. There was something almost impatient about it, like she’d been interrupted and fully intended on collecting what she believed she was owed before continuing her story.

Michael looked at her for another second then he leaned in again for another quick kiss, even shorter than the first.

She seemed satisfied this time, the corners of her mouth curling upward as she finally settled back into her chair. Before he could pull away completely, though, she caught his chin lightly between her fingers.

Her lip gloss had transferred onto him.

She glanced at his mouth, smiling to herself as the pad of her thumb gently wiped the shine from his bottom lip. Michael stayed perfectly still, letting her fuss over him with the same e endeared expression he’d worn all evening. When she finished, she gave his lip one last absentminded swipe, admiring her work for half a second before dropping her hand back into her lap.

After a couple more hours ballroom slowly emptied around them. Chairs scraped against polished floors, security began guiding guests toward the exits, and the crowd outside had already grown thick behind the barricades. Camera flashes bounced off the glass doors before they were even opened, the waiting photographers spotting familiar faces through the windows and shuffling into position.

Michael stepped out first and she followed a heartbeat later, their hands already intertwined. It was the sort of thing people expected from newly smitten couples, except they’d been together for about a year.

The shouting started immediately.

Questions overlapped until they became impossible to separate.

“Michael!”

“Over here!”

“You look beautiful, (✿) !”

“How was the event tonight?”

She glanced toward the voices first.

“It was lovely,” She answered with an easy smile, giving the crowd a little wave before looking back at Michael as they continued down the sidewalk. He was smiling too, offering a small nod with his sunglasses still sitting high on his nose despite the sun having disappeared hours earlier.

Another photographer called after them. “When are you two tying the knot?”

Oh!

The question caught both of them off guard and she laughed first feeling her cheeks and ear tips get warm. Michael immediately looked down shyly, and the reaction only made everyone around them laugh harder. It was the kind of question they had clearly heard before, but neither of them had mastered the art of pretending it didn’t affect them. She tucked a little closer to his side giggling, while Michael shook his head behind.

Then he looked at her, not fully but just a glance from over the top of his frames. That was enough.

She caught it and immediately smiled at him, because she knew exactly what that look meant. A quiet little check in—a private ESP shared between them before either of them acknowledged anyone else.

“We’re.. enjoying each other’s company right now.” More shouting followed before she’d even finished speaking.

Michael barely heard any of it; the cameras, the questions, the security guards urging them toward the waiting car.

It all blurred together the second she looked at him.

He spent the entire evening watching people watch them, and somehow she still managed to make him feel like there wasn’t another person in the room.

She always answered questions like that with the same diplomacy, never sounding flustered, never embarrassed, never trying to turn their relationship into a spectacle. She gave people enough to satisfy them, then quietly closed the door before anyone could step inside. He admired that about her. More than admired it. He relied on it.

She squeezed his hand once as they walked.

He squeezed back.

Without thinking, his thumb found the side of her hand, tracing the same slow path it always did whenever they walked together. It had become such a habit that he doubted either of them noticed anymore.

He looked down at their hands for a second and back at her. She was still smiling to herself. He wondered if she’d realized she’d called them “each other’s company.”

The words echoed around in his head with ridiculous persistence.

Each other’s.

It sounded.. nice. His smile crept back before he could stop it.

She caught it. “What?”

He only shook his head.

Nothing. He just liked the way she’d said it.

The ride back to their hotel passed in comfortable silence.

Every so often she’d catch him looking at her and smile to herself, smoothing a thumb over the back of his hand where it rested between them. He’d answer by bringing her knuckles to his lips for the quickest kiss before setting her hand back down again, he also couldn’t seem to go more than a few minutes without finding a reason to touch her.

By the time they reached the hotel, the suite was quiet.

She slipped off her heels the moment they stepped inside, leaving them abandoned beside the entryway with a relieved sigh. Michael laughed under his breath as he loosened his bow tie, setting his sunglasses on the coffee table.

He settled onto the couch, shoulders finally relaxing against the cushions, only for her to wander over a moment later with a glass of red wine in one hand.

She climbed onto the couch and settled across his lap, one knee rested on either side of him and her dress spilled over his legs while she balanced her wine glass carefully in one hand. Her free hand found his face almost immediately, fingertips traced the edge of his jaw.

Slowly. Back and forth.

He tilted into her touch without thinking.

She turned the stem slowly between her manicured fingertips while Michael continued looking at her with the same dazed and smitten look he hadn’t managed to shake all evening.

“You want some?” She asked.

Instead of reaching for the glass, he leaned forward.

Tilting the glass carefully, she brought the rim to his lips. Michael took a small sip, never taking his eyes off her as the wine touched his mouth. She steadied the glass until he leaned back again, swallowing before the corners of his mouth lifted.

“Yummy?”

He nodded once.

She was already lowering the glass when his hand settled lightly around her wrist, stopping her just long enough for him to lean in.

Their lips met again.

The kiss was slow and lazy. She smiled into it, her free hand sliding back to his jaw while he tipped his face toward hers. There was still the faint taste of red wine between them, sweet and warm, lingering just enough for her to recognize it before she kissed him again.

When they finally separated, they stayed close, noses brushing.Outside, the city hummed beneath their windows.

“..What are you thinking about, Bambi?” She asked quietly.

Michael’s eyes stayed on hers for another moment before drifting down to the stem of her wine glass, then back again.

“Oh, I dunno..” He blushed, embarrassed by the thought now that he had to say it out loud. “Could you see yourself marrying me, really?”

She stared at him for a second then giggled, he’d managed to ask the question with the same shy clumsy he’d had when he first asked her to be exclusive and official with him.

Her hand slid into his curls at the nape of his neck.

She leaned down and kissed him. It was unhurried, warm, lingering just long enough to make him forget he’d asked anything at all.

When she finally pulled back, their foreheads stayed close.

“Michael, I’ve been hoping you even consider me to be wife material..” She murmured.

“You have?”

She laughed again, this time unable to stop herself, brushing her thumb across his cheek as his grin slowly spread from one corner of his mouth to the other. “Of course.. there’s no one else who understands me the way you do. And I want to be someone you feel safe enough to marry..”

He looked completely delighted. “And babies?”

“As many as you want..” She pecked his lips. “Should we.. get in some practice tonight? Prepare for the real thing..”

“You’re bein’ dirty.” Michael responds, though his body is already reacting to her words feeling the blood start to pump directly into his shaft.

“Am I?” Her hands slide down his chest as she tilted her head at him, fingers fidgeting with his belt to unbuckle it. “I thought you liked playing patty cake with me.”

“You always win..” A half complaint wrapped in affection because yeah: every time they played together.. she ended up steering things exactly where she wanted.

And damn if he didn’t love losing to her anyway.

[amnesia-sc]

be quiet | michael jackson

cw/tw: 18+ mdni, smut blurb, michael uses your panties as a gag because you won’t be quiet even though he told you to shut up, p in v, botd era! x gf! reader, use of good girl, brat taming?

while filming for blood on the dance floor, you just couldn’t help yourself. not that he was complaining, but the moment the dressing room door shut behind michael, you were on him. and who was he but a gentleman? of course he’d oblige for his lady but jesus christ— you didn’t know how to be quiet.

part of him was starting to assume you were doing it for fun. to bother him. your moans ricocheting off the walls and linoleum as his hips rocked into yours. the sight of his cock disappearing inside of your pussy as you were perched on the edge of the vanity making him lose his mind. but michael had told you to be quiet about five times now, and like a brat, you seemed to only get louder.

“fuckin’ hell, baby.” michael bit out, his voice caught around a moan as your cunt fluttered around him. “be quiet.”

your grin was wicked as you threw your head back, his name tumbling from your lips in a loud cry. the entire film crew could probably hear you.

he wasn’t thinking. honest to god, he wasn’t.

michael’s hand caught on the discarded cotton of your underwear that was off to the side on the table. his other hand taking a firm hold on your jaw to pry your lips open and his fingers shoved the flimsy and wet material into your mouth.

your eyes widened and he was likely going to hell for it, but the sight of you like that as he fucked you was probably one of the most erotic things he had ever seen in his life.

michael leaned down, mouth against your ear as his thrusts danced on the edge of violence. the vanity slamming into the wall and the mirror rattling in it’s frame.

“be a good girl and take it,” he kissed the side of your head. “quietly.”

michael jackson masterlist

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

[amnesia-sc]

be quiet | michael jackson

cw/tw: 18+ mdni, smut blurb, michael uses your panties as a gag because you won’t be quiet even though he told you to shut up, p in v, botd era! x gf! reader, use of good girl, brat taming?

while filming for blood on the dance floor, you just couldn’t help yourself. not that he was complaining, but the moment the dressing room door shut behind michael, you were on him. and who was he but a gentleman? of course he’d oblige for his lady but jesus christ— you didn’t know how to be quiet.

part of him was starting to assume you were doing it for fun. to bother him. your moans ricocheting off the walls and linoleum as his hips rocked into yours. the sight of his cock disappearing inside of your pussy as you were perched on the edge of the vanity making him lose his mind. but michael had told you to be quiet about five times now, and like a brat, you seemed to only get louder.

“fuckin’ hell, baby.” michael bit out, his voice caught around a moan as your cunt fluttered around him. “be quiet.”

your grin was wicked as you threw your head back, his name tumbling from your lips in a loud cry. the entire film crew could probably hear you.

he wasn’t thinking. honest to god, he wasn’t.

michael’s hand caught on the discarded cotton of your underwear that was off to the side on the table. his other hand taking a firm hold on your jaw to pry your lips open and his fingers shoved the flimsy and wet material into your mouth.

your eyes widened and he was likely going to hell for it, but the sight of you like that as he fucked you was probably one of the most erotic things he had ever seen in his life.

michael leaned down, mouth against your ear as his thrusts danced on the edge of violence. the vanity slamming into the wall and the mirror rattling in it’s frame.

“be a good girl and take it,” he kissed the side of your head. “quietly.”

michael jackson masterlist

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

[megsnotokay]

ATTENTION one | two

syn. michael is obsessed with youngerwriter!reader… but you won’t call him up

content. sfw, michael is scheming, reader is still unamused, age gap (he’s 36 she’s 25), yearning, desperate!mike, blackfem!reader, history!era, not proofread

note. back by popular demand

michael had been checking his phone much more frequently than ever in the last few days.

he’d been hoping for a call from you— who seemed hell bent on making him wait for it.

when he’d asked for your number a few weeks ago at your book signing event, you’d instead asked to take his number— a trap he easily fell into.

but he hadn’t expected to end up the one waiting for a call instead.

he’d played that game before and had clocked it immediately. if ever he really wasn’t interested— he took numbers instead of giving them, never dialing them up as he’d promised.

he didn’t really like being on the receiving end of it.

he’d been busy yeah and he knew you probably were too but he thought that maybe one evening you’d call him and he could get to know you better. and hear your pretty voice in his ear until the late hours.

no such luck.

michael sighed loudly, tipping his head back gazing up into the bright studio lights lining the stage. he was planted at the edge of the stage waiting for his cue to go on for some prime-time interview he’d agreed to do a while ago.

at first, he hated the idea of it because it would mean dealing with more ignorant journalists that treated him like less than a person and pried too much. but then he had a thought— a way to make this whole situation useful to him.

if you were adamant on not calling him up then he’d just find a way to get your attention.

once he heard his cue, he slid his polite, international superstar mask on as he strolled out to the stage, smile wide and his plan tucked inconspicuously under his right arm.

“everyone please welcome our guest, michael jackson.” the interviewer gestured with an overly sweet smile that was too wide to be real.

“great to be here.” he lied, pressing his lips together— smiling a bit harder than he would’ve liked.

the interview fortunately went on as planned, the screened preapproved questions rolling on— each just as invasive as the last, but he took them in stride, redirecting or lying when he didn’t want to answer.

things were nearing a close when he shifted the book— your book— closer into view of the camera, sat firmly tucked into his leg.

the bait had worked almost immediately. “now we’re nearing a close but i just have one more question, if you’ll allow?”

“yeah go ahead.”

“i’d noticed in the back before the show that you’d been reading and i, and many others i’m sure, are curious to know what books you deem interesting enough to carry around with you.” the journalist gestured to his lap.

michael immediately perked up, like most people did when talking about their interests “yes this is actually one of my favorites by this author.” he held your book up proudly.

it was your second published book in particular. his copy had worn edges and was riddled with many tabs and dog ears— clearly well loved.

the reporter said your name and michael could already hear the buzz he’d generate, but he couldn’t find it in him to be that sorry because every headline was about to have your name squished right next to his in big bold letters— impossible to ignore.

a fact he was far too happy about.

“yeah she’s wonderful. beautiful too, i’d had the pleasure of meeting her a few weeks ago. stunning to look at.”

“so i take it you’re a big fan.”

“oh yes i’ve read all her books, everything by her. i have my own collection. she writes so beautifully and i think everyone should buy and read her books— they’re amazing.” his admiration was palpable, something he couldn’t hide even if he tried.

“oh sounds like you’re quite enamored with the author.” michael smiled and tucked his head down.

“funny story, i’m actually waitin’ for her to call me right now.” he’d said trying to smother his smirk by biting his lip. he knew he was wrong for this, but anything to get your attention.

“well i’m sure there are plenty of young women who’d love to receive a call from you or give you a call.” he shook his head, eyes trained dead at the camera as he spoke his next words.

“yeah but i’m only interested in one.” he hoped you were watching.

once things were officially wrapped up, he left the interview with those parting words— your book trapped firmly under his arm.

the following days had turned out exactly as he’d expected. michael wasn’t one to typically follow headlines but he found that he liked these recent ones.

UNLIKELY PAIR: MICHAEL JACKSON A FAN OF HOT YOUNG AUTHOR

SECRET LOVERS IN PRIVATE? Michael Jackson and [NAME]’s Secret Romance FICTION OR FACT?

MICHAEL JACKSON PRAISES NEW YOUNG AUTHOR: “Stunning to Look At.” What Are They Hiding? See Page Three

while none of them held an ounce of truth, he still hoped that you’d see and acknowledge them. maybe take the reminder he was trying to not so subtly give you.

and his prayers were half answered a few days later. you were doing a live Q&A, something that Michael had already planned to tune into that night, back pressed firmly to his couch, eyes focused on the tv.

when you came out onto the small platform, michael noticed immediately that you looked different than normal. you still looked gorgeous of course but you were visibly wound— movements far less relaxed than you normally carried yourself.

michael listened intently as the questions started rolling in. people asked about your writing process and craft and about what struggles or challenges you’d had to overcome in your writing process.

he listened with careful attention, taking in all your words, trying to learn more about you. he particularly liked one answer you gave.

Q: “what’s something you want people to take away from your work?”

A: “one of my main goals is to provide people a different perspective or way of thinking. the ability to step out of your own comfort zone and into someone else’s shoes is a gift. one that i hope more people explore. by doing this you’re able to understand others and their complexities and that inspires compassion and understanding.”

a beautiful sentiment. he couldn’t agree more and always aimed to do the same with his music— to get people to look beyond just themselves.

more questions were rapidly thrown at you and you took them all in stride, answering with well articulated ease.

it was nearing the end when someone finally bit the bullet. a young girl in front, waving her arms wildly to get your attention.

“yes you, go ahead.” you pointed at the girl a small smile on your face while visible excitement radiated off of her.

“i don’t know if you heard, but michael jackson did an interview and he said he is a fan of yours, i just wanted to know your thoughts about that.” the whole room went nearly silent, all the chatter and voices pitched over each other halting for your response.

michael leaned forward in his seat. you kept your face fairly neutral as you spoke your next words, careful to not give anything away.

“yes, i’ve heard about it. i think it’s very kind of him, and i appreciate his support.” so you had seen the interview. which meant your were probably watching him too.

you’d looked like you were ready for the conversation to end there. but of course the people weren’t gonna be satisfied with just that— and neither was michael.

“so do you plan on calling him at all?” he would have to be sure to personally thank that girl.

you opened your mouth before shutting it back again a small uncomfortable expression crossing your face at being put on the spot. michael giggles to himself quietly— he thinks this is the first time he’s ever seen you falter.

and it was because of him.

“well he’s certainly very… nice,” you began, your words slightly clipped at the ends and michael frowned. nice?

you continued on, “and i admire him as a person and an artist of course. i’m sure he’s too busy with his own work to think about a phone call from me.” he clicked his tongue at that. oh if only you knew. he actually had a lot of time on his hands at the moment. especially for you.

he wasn’t sure where you’d got that idea from but when he finally got the chance, he’d be sure to correct it.

you’d decided to wrap things up there delivering closing comments and remarks while answering the last few questions.

“it’s been a pleasure meeting all of you, thank you so much for coming out and for your continued support. i have big things planned soon so stay tuned.” you said your goodbyes as you exited off the screen.

he sighed to himself as the screen cut to commercials. he wasn’t sure what his next course of action was going to be. he also didn’t understand why you wouldn’t just call him. and not to be cocky, but he was him and one thing he’d never had trouble with was getting a girl to call him.

luck must’ve really been on his side because just as michael had been about to settle down for bed, his phone finally rang.

he picked up immediately.

“hello?” there was a small moment of silence that stretched before he heard your smooth voice reply.

“hey is this michael?”

©megsnotokay

note. so sorry for that cliff i just left you dangling on lmfao

[appleheadjjacksonn]

My man my man my mannnn yes im that delulu over him😩😩🥴🫶🏾

[megsnotokay]

baby I’m everything but scared when I look at him.

[megsnotokay]

ATTENTION one | two

syn. michael is obsessed with youngerwriter!reader… but you won’t call him up

content. sfw, michael is scheming, reader is still unamused, age gap (he’s 36 she’s 25), yearning, desperate!mike, blackfem!reader, history!era, not proofread

note. back by popular demand

michael had been checking his phone much more frequently than ever in the last few days.

he’d been hoping for a call from you— who seemed hell bent on making him wait for it.

when he’d asked for your number a few weeks ago at your book signing event, you’d instead asked to take his number— a trap he easily fell into.

but he hadn’t expected to end up the one waiting for a call instead.

he’d played that game before and had clocked it immediately. if ever he really wasn’t interested— he took numbers instead of giving them, never dialing them up as he’d promised.

he didn’t really like being on the receiving end of it.

he’d been busy yeah and he knew you probably were too but he thought that maybe one evening you’d call him and he could get to know you better. and hear your pretty voice in his ear until the late hours.

no such luck.

michael sighed loudly, tipping his head back gazing up into the bright studio lights lining the stage. he was planted at the edge of the stage waiting for his cue to go on for some prime-time interview he’d agreed to do a while ago.

at first, he hated the idea of it because it would mean dealing with more ignorant journalists that treated him like less than a person and pried too much. but then he had a thought— a way to make this whole situation useful to him.

if you were adamant on not calling him up then he’d just find a way to get your attention.

once he heard his cue, he slid his polite, international superstar mask on as he strolled out to the stage, smile wide and his plan tucked inconspicuously under his right arm.

“everyone please welcome our guest, michael jackson.” the interviewer gestured with an overly sweet smile that was too wide to be real.

“great to be here.” he lied, pressing his lips together— smiling a bit harder than he would’ve liked.

the interview fortunately went on as planned, the screened preapproved questions rolling on— each just as invasive as the last, but he took them in stride, redirecting or lying when he didn’t want to answer.

things were nearing a close when he shifted the book— your book— closer into view of the camera, sat firmly tucked into his leg.

the bait had worked almost immediately. “now we’re nearing a close but i just have one more question, if you’ll allow?”

“yeah go ahead.”

“i’d noticed in the back before the show that you’d been reading and i, and many others i’m sure, are curious to know what books you deem interesting enough to carry around with you.” the journalist gestured to his lap.

michael immediately perked up, like most people did when talking about their interests “yes this is actually one of my favorites by this author.” he held your book up proudly.

it was your second published book in particular. his copy had worn edges and was riddled with many tabs and dog ears— clearly well loved.

the reporter said your name and michael could already hear the buzz he’d generate, but he couldn’t find it in him to be that sorry because every headline was about to have your name squished right next to his in big bold letters— impossible to ignore.

a fact he was far too happy about.

“yeah she’s wonderful. beautiful too, i’d had the pleasure of meeting her a few weeks ago. stunning to look at.”

“so i take it you’re a big fan.”

“oh yes i’ve read all her books, everything by her. i have my own collection. she writes so beautifully and i think everyone should buy and read her books— they’re amazing.” his admiration was palpable, something he couldn’t hide even if he tried.

“oh sounds like you’re quite enamored with the author.” michael smiled and tucked his head down.

“funny story, i’m actually waitin’ for her to call me right now.” he’d said trying to smother his smirk by biting his lip. he knew he was wrong for this, but anything to get your attention.

“well i’m sure there are plenty of young women who’d love to receive a call from you or give you a call.” he shook his head, eyes trained dead at the camera as he spoke his next words.

“yeah but i’m only interested in one.” he hoped you were watching.

once things were officially wrapped up, he left the interview with those parting words— your book trapped firmly under his arm.

the following days had turned out exactly as he’d expected. michael wasn’t one to typically follow headlines but he found that he liked these recent ones.

UNLIKELY PAIR: MICHAEL JACKSON A FAN OF HOT YOUNG AUTHOR

SECRET LOVERS IN PRIVATE? Michael Jackson and [NAME]’s Secret Romance FICTION OR FACT?

MICHAEL JACKSON PRAISES NEW YOUNG AUTHOR: “Stunning to Look At.” What Are They Hiding? See Page Three

while none of them held an ounce of truth, he still hoped that you’d see and acknowledge them. maybe take the reminder he was trying to not so subtly give you.

and his prayers were half answered a few days later. you were doing a live Q&A, something that Michael had already planned to tune into that night, back pressed firmly to his couch, eyes focused on the tv.

when you came out onto the small platform, michael noticed immediately that you looked different than normal. you still looked gorgeous of course but you were visibly wound— movements far less relaxed than you normally carried yourself.

michael listened intently as the questions started rolling in. people asked about your writing process and craft and about what struggles or challenges you’d had to overcome in your writing process.

he listened with careful attention, taking in all your words, trying to learn more about you. he particularly liked one answer you gave.

Q: “what’s something you want people to take away from your work?”

A: “one of my main goals is to provide people a different perspective or way of thinking. the ability to step out of your own comfort zone and into someone else’s shoes is a gift. one that i hope more people explore. by doing this you’re able to understand others and their complexities and that inspires compassion and understanding.”

a beautiful sentiment. he couldn’t agree more and always aimed to do the same with his music— to get people to look beyond just themselves.

more questions were rapidly thrown at you and you took them all in stride, answering with well articulated ease.

it was nearing the end when someone finally bit the bullet. a young girl in front, waving her arms wildly to get your attention.

“yes you, go ahead.” you pointed at the girl a small smile on your face while visible excitement radiated off of her.

“i don’t know if you heard, but michael jackson did an interview and he said he is a fan of yours, i just wanted to know your thoughts about that.” the whole room went nearly silent, all the chatter and voices pitched over each other halting for your response.

michael leaned forward in his seat. you kept your face fairly neutral as you spoke your next words, careful to not give anything away.

“yes, i’ve heard about it. i think it’s very kind of him, and i appreciate his support.” so you had seen the interview. which meant your were probably watching him too.

you’d looked like you were ready for the conversation to end there. but of course the people weren’t gonna be satisfied with just that— and neither was michael.

“so do you plan on calling him at all?” he would have to be sure to personally thank that girl.

you opened your mouth before shutting it back again a small uncomfortable expression crossing your face at being put on the spot. michael giggles to himself quietly— he thinks this is the first time he’s ever seen you falter.

and it was because of him.

“well he’s certainly very… nice,” you began, your words slightly clipped at the ends and michael frowned. nice?

you continued on, “and i admire him as a person and an artist of course. i’m sure he’s too busy with his own work to think about a phone call from me.” he clicked his tongue at that. oh if only you knew. he actually had a lot of time on his hands at the moment. especially for you.

he wasn’t sure where you’d got that idea from but when he finally got the chance, he’d be sure to correct it.

you’d decided to wrap things up there delivering closing comments and remarks while answering the last few questions.

“it’s been a pleasure meeting all of you, thank you so much for coming out and for your continued support. i have big things planned soon so stay tuned.” you said your goodbyes as you exited off the screen.

he sighed to himself as the screen cut to commercials. he wasn’t sure what his next course of action was going to be. he also didn’t understand why you wouldn’t just call him. and not to be cocky, but he was him and one thing he’d never had trouble with was getting a girl to call him.

luck must’ve really been on his side because just as michael had been about to settle down for bed, his phone finally rang.

he picked up immediately.

“hello?” there was a small moment of silence that stretched before he heard your smooth voice reply.

“hey is this michael?”

©megsnotokay

note. so sorry for that cliff i just left you dangling on lmfao

[mjtvv]

THE OTHER HUSBAND! | MJ

other! Michael Jackson x black! wife!reader

Summary: After finding a strange door in the dark part of Neverland you find yourself in a world where everything that has been wrong is turned into right. Including your husband, Michael. You finally think your wishes have been answered. Weirdly, and strangely but answered nonetheless. If only you paid closer attention to who was listening to them. Now you might never leave.

Tags: uncanny valley, slight dub con, stalking, emotional manipulation, horror, marital neglect, obsession, cheating? (You're with another version of Michael, so idk if that counts), violence, supernatural at play, dolls, Coraline inspired, illusions, your other!kids are very creepy, other!Bubbles

Wc: 0.5k

𝐒𝐍𝐈𝐏𝐏𝐄𝐓

Neverland felt too alive. Too warm. 

Even in your sleep, you can feel the thickness of it. It is that feeling that draws you out of your sleep and into the waking world. A mild sweat coats your forehead as you look at your surroundings. 

You prop yourself on your elbows, looking out the window. It was still dark out by the looks of it. When you turn to look at the analog clock on the nightstand, you find it vacant.

Weird. You never moved that thing. 

You lay back down, wanting to go back to sleep, but the thickness of the air wasn't the only thing keeping you from sleeping. 

It was a smell. A familiar aroma that always made your stomach growl.

Was that ..

Was that bacon? 

Who was cooking breakfast food so late at night? All the staff had gone home for the night, and you were home alone. 

Then a sound echoed in the empty home. 

Humming. Unmistakably Michael’s. 

What? 

Wasn't he in Europe? He wasn't due back home for another month.

After putting on your robe and adjusting your bonnet, you open your bedroom door and walk down the dark hallway. Everything was so dark and cold in Neverland. As it usually is, but this type of darkness didn't feel like what you were used to.

It felt more deliberately placed.

You follow the sound of your husband's humming like breadcrumbs. Walking until you come across the warm lighting of the kitchen shining in the dark hallway. It stood out more than it should. 

When you come to the kitchen, you stop at the doorway. Arms crossed over your chest. 

His back was facing you, dressed in all black silk pajamas that looked 2 sizes too big. Hair draping down past his shoulders. He leaned over the stove, flipping the bacon while humming an unreleased tune from his upcoming album. 

You haven't seen this sight in… well, forever.

It should've made your heart warm in the happiest way possible. But it didn't. The mundane scene in front of you felt wrong somehow. Like a misplaced scene in a movie. 

It didn't make sense.

“Michael?” You timidly say. 

He stops humming abruptly. His body freezes into a stillness that was unlike him. The bacon in the pan sizzled, and the grease popped on his arms. He didn't react to them. 

He turned off the stove, turning around with the hot skillet in his hands and-

What the fuck. 

The doe-like eyes that once stared at you with adoration and love were gone. 

They were replaced by a black void that took over his irises, showing no emotion or warmth when he looked at you. 

 ‘Michael’ smiled at you. But it wasn't one of his smiles he had given you before. This one had sweetness that felt rotten, and teeth that looked too white, too perfect. No dimples or skin creasing at the facial movement. 

You stumbled back a step. Your heartbeat raced wildly in your chest. This was a dream. Some weird, sick and twisted dream.

“Hi, baby.”

You scream.

@/mjtvv

TAGLIST: @mtcloudsworld @chocotragedy @melodyyybubbles @crypytlc @animegamerfox @princesspluuto @angelfacemj07 @whoscamila @crazylady20 @douceurrrr @savagenctzen @thorodinsonslover @plqnetkiyaa @kisscoqueen @starzlovrr @appleheadcutie @variablebear @a-motherfcking-fish @roseb0w @yujisbabyy @dayyysinterlude @tojiswifeforlife

[mjtvv]

OTHER!MICHAEL HEADCANNONS!

Other!Michael has been watching you in the quiet shadows of Neverland. Seeing you cry yourself to sleep because of Michael's neglect. He coos in the dark wanting nothing more than to comfort you but knows it's not time for you yet.

Other!Michael who gets his world prepared for you. Conforming reality into what you truly desire. The kids that you've always wanted? There are 3 of them. 2 boys and a girl. Each of them patiently waiting for their mommy to come care for them.

After conforming his realm to what you desire he works on his physical appearance. Wearing the form of one of Michael's looks that you absolutely adore. His silk black hair in a wolfcut with the red blouse and black pants.

Other!Michael who places the door to his realm in the most obvious spot so he knows you can find it. He just can't stand to see you cry anymore! He wants you in his world so he can spoil you rotten. Give you the love that you deserve.

When you finally find it and see him, he is sad when you are so afraid. It's the eyes isn't it? They're not the brown doe eyes that you love so much and he hates that your scared of him for that reason. But he is still your Michael! Just the better version of him.

Other!Michael who is patient with you warming up to him. He waits for your single to initiate things. He watches you eagerly through his black beady eyes you come to like.

He spends every single second proving to you how much better he is than the real Michael. Your husband is halfway across the world forgetting that you are at home all alone while he is here pampering you with kisses and affection. Why can't you see he is the one you should pick?

When he introduces you to the children he wants to wipe the tears from your face. The kids had remained nameless. Waiting for you to bestow them the names you had written down in your journal. You name them Prince, Paris, and Blanket.

If there is any guilt of what you are doing he takes them away. You think you're cheating? How are you cheating if you are with him? Silly you. How can you cheat on your husband with your husband? That doesn't make any sense!

He gets sad whenever you go back to your world. You should stay! Why wouldn't you? You have everything you ever wanted in eyesight. But he respects your decision (barely)

When you do leave, the world goes dark. Like the curtains of a live play drawing close. The children go still in place waiting to be off use again, the animals around neverland flop down like ragdolls, and he goes back into the shadows to watch you as you go on about your day.

When Michael makes you cry or sad, you barely notice how the walls creak and groan. Other! Michael hates to see you cry and he hates Michael with every fibe the has. If killing him meant he won't exist, your husband would've been dead.

Other!Michael who patiently waits for you to say you want to stay with him and your kids forever. If the real Michael won't take care of you, he will. He waits for the day you all can be one happy family.

Soon, he thinks. Soon.

TAGLIST:@mtcloudsworld @chocotragedy @melodyyybubbles @crypytlc @animegamerfox @princesspluuto @angelfacemj07 @whoscamila @crazylady20 @douceurrrr @savagenctzen @thorodinsonslover @plqnetkiyaa @kisscoqueen @appleheadcutie @variablebear @a-motherfcking-fish @roseb0w @yujisbabyy @dayyysinterlude @tojiswifeforlife @amnesia-sc @imbetterinstereo

[mjsbrat]

༺⊰⋆ DANGEROUS. ⋆⊱༻

𑣲 pairing: pre-dangerous era!michael x his producer’s assistant!reader

𑣲 synopsis: michael becomes obsessed with his producer’s assistant. falling harder and faster than ever before, he was determined to make her his, and his only.

𑣲 cw: 18+ smut, MDNI!, toxic!michael, dom!michael, sub!reader, angst!, it gets… filthyyyy, power play, degradation, praise!kink, manipulation, no use of y/n, love bombing, feels like fluff at first… it’s not.

𑣲 wc: 10.2k (i’m a yapper)

𑣲 authors note: guys i think this is my magnum opus. i was so gagged writing this. i hope you enjoy :’)

𑣲 tags: @misscowboyhat @chrollosblackgf66 @bluugangsta @vyvyrulesboisdrool @aloeveraaa333 @smoothcriminalgf @scccm0182 @nodisdino @glitterqueen123 @doefern @cupidslyrics @silentonthedancefloor @savagenctzen @mrsjacksonnnnnn @gleefullywingedvision @michaelsfayvourite @brownsugarbbys-blog @parness @wildpandorasky @cherubae111 @lullora @pvtypyt @nylauhh @jasppppeeee @capevans3000 @sunsetdrvr @1-800-angel-ok @narratedillusions @mikaylajacksonnn @galacticpurpl3 @oidloid @veraberaxx @studio03 @avenueeee @flygirldiary @gxsela @susielu

────୨ৎ────

part I, the beginning.

you pushed open the heavy, soundproofed door to the control room. the windowless room full of sprawling mixing consoles and dreams. you stood in the doorway, clipboard pressed to your chest like a shield, trying to keep your breathing steady.

junior production assistant to teddy riley.

the words still felt unreal. twenty-four years old, fresh out of college, and somehow you’d landed your first real job on the most anticipated album of the decade. dangerous. michael jackson’s album.

how the fuck is this your life?

you hadn’t spoken more than a polite “good morning” since you started about a week ago. you’ve always been soft-spoken by nature, but around him, the instinct to stay quiet grew even stronger. you simply did your job: making sure the tapes were labeled and ready, keeping the schedule tight, taking detailed notes on takes, and quietly refilling water bottles before anyone had to ask.

you had never forgotten what teddy had told you on day one: “stay out of the way, but stay useful.”

so that’s exactly what you did.

you lingered silently in the back of the control room all day, every day. watching michael and your boss work for hours on end on a single beat. it took everything in you to keep your eyes away from michael. his presence was… intense. he was larger than life, yet almost as soft-spoken as yourself.

one afternoon, during a short break, michael stepped away from the microphone and walked into the control room, wiping sweat from his brow. teddy and the rest of your colleagues stepped out of the room for a chat. you stayed, quietly organizing the tapes for the next take, turning your head down to stay focused on your task.

he stopped beside you.

“you’re always one step ahead,” he said softly.

your heart slammed against your ribs. you looked up at him slowly. his large brown eyes stared down at you, warm but intense. you felt your cheeks start to heat up.

“just doing my job, mr. jackson,” you murmured, barely above a whisper. scared to step out of line.

a small smile tugged at his lips. “michael,” he corrected gently.

“michael.” you nodded shyly. returning a small smile to him, unsure what else to say, you went back to your task.

from that day forward, he interacted with you. it was always in small ways… a quiet “thank you” when you handed him fresh water exactly when his voice started to strain, or a soft “goodnight” as he headed out the door.

the days blurred together in a haze of creativity and caffeine. you moved quietly through the studio like a shadow, until michael found a way to pull you into the light.

it happened on a long thursday evening. the atmosphere in the control room was thick with frustration. michael, teddy, bill bottrell, and bruce swedien had been going back and forth for hours on a song structure that wasn’t quite locking in. the track, still untitled, kept falling apart in the bridge.

you were refilling water bottles in the corner when michael suddenly turned in his chair, his eyes finding you.

“what do you think?” he asked. the room went quiet. your stomach dropped. you froze, clutching an empty bottle.

“i… i’m sorry?” you whispered, voice barely carrying across the room.

michael leaned forward, elbows on his knees, looking at you with genuine curiosity. “the structure. the bridge into the chorus. you’ve been listening to every take. what do you feel is missing?”

your cheeks burned. you had never felt so put on the spot before. suddenly you became very aware of your age and lack of experience… and very aware you were the only woman in the room.

“i don’t—“ you started, terrified to overstep. your eyes looked towards your boss for guidance. you were just the assistant. the girl who made sure the tapes were labeled and the important people stayed on schedule. not someone whose opinion mattered to michael jackson.

“oh, teddy, you’re scaring her,” michael chuckled as he slapped teddy’s arm with the back of his hand. “tell her she can talk to me.”

teddy laughed at michael’s shove and lifted his hands, motioning for you to come closer. you placed the waters on the table and cautiously made your way over towards the men, your heart hammering in your chest.

“so?” michael asked, tilting his head to the side as he awaited your response. his eyes stared deep into yours as you quickly looked away from the way it made your heart leap in your chest.

after a long, calming breath, you spoke carefully, “the bridge feels… too expected,” you murmured. “it builds tension but then drops too safely into the chorus.” you paused for a second, moving so you were in between the chairs michael and your boss were sitting in, looking to get a better view of the board.

“if you held the note a little longer on the last line, really let it suspend, and brought the bass in underneath instead of the drums… it would feel more like a release. like a breath, you know?”

silence.

you immediately regretted speaking. too much. too bold. welp, you can kiss this job goodbye!

you looked over your right shoulder to find michael staring up at you, eyes bright with something new. he turned slowly back to the console, played the section again, then made the exact adjustment you suggested… holding the note, dropping the drums, letting the bass glide underneath.

the room shifted. the song clicked. teddy let out a low whistle.

michael leaned back, a slow, radiant smile spreading across his face. he looked at teddy and pointed in your direction. “you see that? she hears it. i want her in every session from now on.”

your breath caught. michael’s gaze returned to you, intense and focused in a way that made your knees feel weak. something shifted in that moment; he had locked in on you.

later that night, after the others had finally packed up, michael lingered. you were gathering your things quietly when he approached, hands tucked in the pockets of his slacks.

“your idea was perfect.” the sound of his voice stopped you dead in your tracks. it was like he stole all of the air from your lungs. you looked up at him, flustered as you tried putting together a sentence, anything.

“thank you…michael.”

he smiled at the sound of his name on your lips. you had expected him to slip out of the room quietly behind you, but instead he leaned up against the wall, studying you further.

you felt your breath hitch, unsure of what to do. you turned your attention to your things, trying your best to avoid direct eye contact with him. instead you focused on grabbing your scattered papers from the table in front of you.

“long day,” he said quietly, almost awkwardly, eyes still fixed on your every move. you nodded in agreement, avoiding his gaze. “was it a long day for you too?” he asked casually, pushing for an actual answer from you.

“i guess,” you mumbled as you looked up to view the clock hanging above the exit. 12:18 a.m. michael took notice of your slight movement and followed your eyes to view the time himself.

“what time did you get here?” he asked, his voice soft and curious. you had to stop yourself from looking at him as if he had three heads. why on earth would michael jackson care to hold such a mundane conversation with someone like you?

you turned your head in his direction, finally meeting his gaze. he looked so… normal.

“um, around 7, i think?”

“7 a.m.?”

“yeah,” you replied as you finished stuffing your notepads and folders into your bag, “guess it has been a long day.”

“is it tiring?” he inquired, refusing to let the conversation die. you shifted on your feet slightly, slinging your bag over your shoulder as you looked back up at him.

“yeah,” you answered honestly, “but i don’t mind. this is everything i’ve ever dreamed of.”

michael studied your face, the way your eyes started to twinkle as you spoke to him about your dreams. he smiled at you, a soft and kind smile.

“what made you want to work in the studio like this?” he asked, real curiosity painted across his face.

“i’ve always been drawn to the magic that happens behind the scenes,” you answered truthfully, “the way one small decision on the board dictates the entire sound… i don’t know.”

michael smiled at you as you spoke, and the sight of him in front of you had your heart beating so loud you were scared he was going to be able to hear it. he stared at you, barely blinking as he took in everything about you. you felt… vulnerable? like he was figuring out every part of you right there in that moment.

“i know it’s late,” michael started, “but if you’re not too tired, i could show you a few things.”

every single part of you that was exhausted before was awoken like it had been hit with a bolt of lightning… and you knew it was all over your face. you couldn’t contain your smile as you very quickly dropped your bag down on the couch next to you.

“not too tired.” you grinned; you felt like you had hit the lottery. and michael couldn’t help but chuckle at your enthusiasm as you both made your way back to the console.

the hours slipped away. as you sat in your boss’ chair next to michael, the studio felt smaller. like the rest of the world had melted away. he made you feel comfortable instantly, speaking in a soft and warm tone that made you relax more and more with each passing second. he took his time explaining different techniques he had learned throughout the years, making sure you fully understood the process before he moved on to the next thing.

somewhere along the way michael started to sprinkle in some questions about you. he asked you things like: what kind of music moved you when you were a girl? what do you hope to create one day? how did it feel to be fresh out of college and thrown into this world?

you opened up bit by bit, your soft voice gaining a little more confidence as he listened so intently. he made it so easy, which shocked you. it amazed you how tentative he was. it seemed like he really cared about what you were saying.

in return, he began sharing pieces of himself, small at first, then deeper. he spoke about his bad tour, which had just wrapped up within the last year. what it’s like being away from home for months, sometimes years on end. in his rawest confession, he told you about the quiet loneliness that comes with being who he is.

and you were a goner.

you could feel yourself getting lost in his eyes as he spoke. the way he spoke so openly and honestly took you by complete surprise. yet, it felt natural. like you had known him forever.

“i’m sorry you feel so lonely,” the words left your mouth before you could stop them. michael stared at you, his big eyes growing even softer at your words.

“it’s okay,” he replied, looking to switch the conversation off of himself. “what about you?” he asked as he turned away from your gaze, almost shy-like.

“what about me?”

“are you lonely? or do you have someone?” he asked, voice softer than ever before. you felt your heart skip a beat at his question.

“no and no,” you answered, “not lonely. also not seeing anyone.”

michael scanned your face the entire time you spoke; you had never felt so listened to before. he made you feel like you were the only person in the world with the way he looked at you. you felt like you could stay there forever and never run out of things to talk about. it was almost four in the morning when michael finally glanced at the clock.

“you must be exhausted,” he said, voice husky from hours of talking. he stood and offered his hand to help you up. when your fingers slid into his, he didn’t let go right away, allowing his touch to linger. his hand was warm, and so much larger than yours.

“do you have a car here?” he asked softly, slowly dropping his hand from yours.

“no, no, my car is a piece of junk that’s always in the shop,” you laughed. “i’m just going to take a cab.”

“absolutely not,” michael protested, grabbing his jacket from the couch, “i’ll take you home.”

“it’s okay, really—“

“i’m not taking no for an answer,” michael replied, grabbing your bag to carry it for you without even asking, like he had been doing it forever. “let’s go.”

the drive was mostly quiet. michael was driving, something he told you was rare that he does for himself, and you were next to him, spewing out directions as the city lights blurred past the windows. when he pulled up outside your modest apartment building, the air felt thicker with tension.

michael turned to you, his gaze intense in the dim light. “thank you for tonight,” he whispered. “for being you.” before you could respond, he reached over and gently cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing your skin with a tenderness that made your breath catch. you felt as if you were floating out of your body. “you’re different,” he finished, as he searched your face for any sign of discomfort. he moved towards you slowly, like he was giving you every chance to pull away, and pressed his lips gently against yours.

the kiss was soft at first, slow and respectful, as he gauged your comfort level. when you didn’t pull away, he deepened the kiss. his hand slid into your hair as he pulled you closer to him. his tongue gently grazed your bottom lip, asking for access, which you granted immediately. he kissed you with such passion it made your stomach drop, similar to the feeling of being on a rollercoaster. it was exhilarating. when he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours.

“i’ve wanted to do that for days,” he admitted, voice low. “you have no idea what you’re doing to me.”

you didn’t know what to say back to him. so instead, you sat there in the quiet dark. your heart pounding, your mind reacting. the first fragile boundary between the two of you finally crossed.

────୨ৎ────

part ii, the honeymoon stage.

the days that followed the kiss felt like a dream you were terrified of waking up from.

you did your absolute best to stay professional in the studio, but it was impossible to hide how giddy you felt whenever michael was near. every time he looked at you, your stomach fluttered and your cheeks warmed. a small, secret smile would tug at your lips when he passed you a note with a quick lyric scribble and a heart at the bottom. you found yourself constantly replaying the feeling of his lips, and the feeling of his tongue swirling around yours. you were completely drunk on him.

michael, meanwhile, was becoming completely obsessed.

he noticed everything. the way you tucked your hair behind your ear when you were concentrating. how you preferred your coffee with a touch of cinnamon on busy mornings. how you always smelled faintly of vanilla and the rose lotion you loved. the nervous little habit of biting your lower lip when you were trying not to speak out of turn. he catalogued it all.

that first week following the kiss, he started carving out time for the two of you outside the studio.

it began small. one evening after a long session, he took you to a private overlook in the hills before taking you home. the city sparkled below while he played unreleased tracks for you on a portable cassette player, his arm eventually slipping around your shoulders. the two of you sat there for hours, as he told you more and more about his life, saying “i’ve never felt safe enough to tell anyone these things before.”

another night, he brought you to neverland. it was 2 a.m., and there the two of you were, riding the carousel like children. michael’s laughter, bright and unguarded, mixed with the cheerful mechanical music as you spun under the twinkling lights.

“you deserve to have fun too,” he told you softly, watching you spin on the painted horse with pure adoration in his eyes. “not just work.”

that night was special. it was the first time he made love to you. you had never felt so cherished and completely cared for in your entire life. you had never been so intimate with someone before. yes, you’ve had sex, but you’ve never had someone be so gentle with you.

he took his time with everything. he took his time undressing you, his fingertips tracing every inch of newly revealed skin like he was memorizing every part of you. his mouth mapped your body while he placed warm, wet kisses trailing from your neck to your breasts, sucking gently on your nipples until they ached, then lower, across your stomach, until his breath ghosted over your core.

the first slow stroke of his tongue drew a broken, needy moan from deep in your throat. he was patient, devastatingly attentive, learning exactly how you liked to be licked and sucked. the wet sounds of his mouth working you open filled the quiet room, mingling with your soft gasps and whimpers. he hummed in pleasure against you, the vibration sending sparks up your spine.

“that’s it, my sweet girl,” he praised, voice muffled. “let me hear you. you taste so good… so perfect for me.”

his tongue fucked you with slow, deliberate devotion until your thighs trembled violently around his shoulders and your fingers were desperately tangled in his soft curls. the orgasm ripped through you like a tidal wave. it was completely consuming, overwhelming, leaving you shaking and gasping as waves of pleasure crashed over you again and again. michael moaned against you, lapping up every drop of your release like he was starving for it, savoring you until your body had nothing left to give.

when he finally rose, the weight of his body settling over yours felt like coming home. skin against heated skin. his scent, cologne mixed with sweat, surrounded you. he positioned his thick cock at your entrance and pushed in slowly, inch by inch, watching your face the entire time.

the stretch was intense, a deep, burning fullness that made you gasp as you wrapped your legs around his waist. he buried himself to the hilt and stilled, forehead pressed to yours, sharing the same ragged breath.

“are you okay?” he whispered, voice strained with the effort of holding back. his warm, slightly damp skin pressed against yours everywhere. his curls falling onto your face.

you nodded, nails digging into his back as you tried to adjust to the overwhelming sensation of being so completely filled by him.

“please… move.”

he made love to you like he was trying to fuse your souls together. deep, rolling thrusts that dragged against every sensitive spot inside you. the room filled with the slick, intimate sounds of skin against skin, your soft, desperate moans, and his low, consistent praises. every thrust felt like it reached deeper than your body, like he was searching for parts of you no one else had ever touched.

“you feel incredible,” he groaned, voice raw and trembling. “so warm and tight around me… like you were made to fit me perfectly. i’ve never felt anything like this.” one of his hands stayed linked with yours above your head, fingers tightly interlaced, while the other worshipped your body. his thumb brushed against your sensitive nipple, trailing his palm down your side, fingers finding your clit to circle in perfect rhythm with his thrusts. every movement bound you tighter to him. you felt engulfed in him. lost in the heat of his skin, the taste of his kisses, the relentless pleasure building inside you until there was nothing left but him.

he brought you over the edge again like that, kissing you through your orgasm as you clenched and fluttered wildly around him, trembling and gasping into his mouth. the intensity left you sobbing his name, tears slipping from the corners of your eyes as you pulled him closer. only then did he let himself follow, shuddering with a low, broken groan as he pulled out at the last second and pumped himself rapidly, painting your stomach with thick, hot ropes of his cum.

afterward, he collapsed beside you and pulled you into his arms, holding you like you were the most precious thing in existence. his fingers traced lazy, soothing patterns on your back while he pressed soft, lingering kisses to your forehead, your eyelids, the tip of your nose, your lips. you could feel the emptiness from him between your legs, the stickiness of his release on your skin, the rapid beat of his heart against your cheek.

“i’m falling so hard for you,” he whispered against your skin, voice raw with emotion. “you make me feel… insane.”

you curled tighter into his chest, surrounded by his warmth, his scent, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. in that moment, you felt utterly tied to him; body, heart, and soul. it was everything, and you had fallen completely.

you weren’t the first one to say it. you were lying with him on the large couch in his private sitting room at neverland, a week after the passionate night the two of you shared. the lights were low, with a crackling fire directly below the television playing his favorite cartoon. he was holding you in his arms, your face flush against his chest, listening to his heartbeat when he shifted slightly.

“i love you,” he said, voice low and unwavering. “i know this is fast… maybe too fast, but i’ve never said those words and meant it this much before.”

it was fast. dangerously fast. but hearing those words from him, feeling chosen by him, made your heart swell so much it practically hurt. you lifted your head to meet his eyes. he was looking at you like you hung the moon and stars.

“it feels like everyone always wants something from me,” he continued softly, lacing his fingers with yours. his grip was warm, almost a little too tight. “but you… you just give. you make me feel safe. i need you. i’ve never needed anyone the way i need you.”

the words made you melt. it was a dizzying rush of love mixed with the quiet thrill of being so desperately wanted by him, of all people. you were completely overwhelmed with emotion.

“i love you too,” you responded quickly, grabbing his face with both hands to pull him in for a steamy, passionate kiss.

the gifts followed immediately after. each one more thoughtful than the last, each one showing how deeply he paid attention.

first, a small velvet box waited on your usual table in the studio. inside was a delicate gold necklace with a tiny music note pendant. the note read: for the girl who hears the music in everything. wear this and think of me.

a few days later, a beautiful designer purse appeared at your apartment. soft leather in a warm gold-brown tone that matched his favorite dress of yours perfectly. “for carrying all those notes you take for me, i love you,” the card said.

then came the earrings. exquisite gold hoops with small diamonds that caught the studio lights. he’d noticed you admired a similar pair in a magazine left lying around. when you put them on with trembling fingers and looked up at him shyly, his smile was radiant.

“they suit you perfectly,” he murmured, reaching out to gently brush your hair back so he could see them better. his fingers lingered on your skin.

“everything looks better on you, baby.” his new name for you.

you had never felt attention like this ever, and it was coming from him. the way he made time for you, the way he noticed every tiny detail, treating you like you were the most precious thing in his world.

as the weeks went on, you found yourself canceling plans with friends without hesitation. not because he ever asked you to, but because you wanted to. your mind was consumed by him. you began dressing with him in mind every morning. you started waking up earlier so you could make sure you looked perfect for him. always making sure to wear the gold necklace and earrings he’d given you, because you loved the way he noticed. he noticed every single time.

michael went out of his way to ask you for your opinions in the studio. constantly turning around in his chair to engage with you. he never made you feel small or less than. your dreams of producing and writing felt brighter than ever, but they were slowly becoming tangled with the dream of him.

he was pulling you deeper into his world, and you went willingly, heart racing, completely enchanted.

before you knew it, you were spending every minute of every day with him. mornings and evenings in the studio were dedicated to him: taking his notes with extra care, keeping his tea at the perfect temperature, dimming the lights the moment his eyes started to squint. nights were spent in his bed, filled to the brim with his cock while he kissed your face and whispered how perfect you were; his muse, his everything.

so when he told you he had to leave town for a few days for a charity event, your heart shattered. it wasn’t normal. you knew it wasn’t normal to be so entangled with someone that the idea of being apart for 48 hours felt impossible. you had begged him to stay, taking his packed bag from his hands and forcing him down onto his bed. straddling his lap firmly while you licked his neck, placing delicate kisses below his ear, whispering “stay.”

“i’m sorry, baby,” he practically moaned, placing his hands gently on your waist while you continued your assault on his neck. “i promise i’ll make it up to you.”

“how are you going to do that?” you whispered, sucking his earlobe into your mouth gently.

“you’ll just have to wait and see, baby,” michael replied, lifting you off his lap and placing you down onto the bed next to him. he stood slowly, like he was just as desperate to stay there and worship your needy body. “i’ll be back before you know it. help yourself to anything in the house; my card is on the table. you can use it for anything,” he said sincerely, as he leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on your lips. “i love you so much,” was the last thing he said before he slipped out the door and out of your life for the next two days.

────୨ৎ────

part III, the switch.

the night before michael was due back, you went home to your apartment for the first time in weeks. you hadn’t realized how long it had been until you noticed your answering machine flashing with dozens of missed calls from your friends and family. when was the last time you were with anyone other than michael?

sleeping in your own bed felt… wrong. it didn’t feel like your bed anymore. the whole apartment felt like it was something out of a past life. it all happened so fast that you didn’t even realize what was happening. you had become so consumed by him that you had a hard time figuring out where he ended and where you began.

the night was sleepless. you couldn’t stop thinking about seeing him. it was like you couldn’t even breathe without him. he was the only thought on your mind, fully pushing out your earlier realizations that you didn’t even recognize your own life anymore.

the next morning, you took extra time getting ready, ensuring that you looked exactly how he liked. you even slipped on a shorter skirt than usual, one you typically save for after work hours, just to surprise him once he showed up to the studio.

everything was perfect. except for your piece of shit car that wouldn’t start no matter how many times you turned the key.

you groaned, flopping your forehead onto the steering wheel in frustration. as you were about to go back inside to grab the phone to call a cab, your neighbor, mr. harlan, called out.

“car trouble again?” he asked as he was standing in the doorway with a briefcase in his hands.

“as always!” you replied, still turning to go back inside.

“you going to work? i can drop you off”

mr. harlan had given you rides to work before, when you were just an intern, before you met michael. he was a nice man, one who never gave the creeps. he was about 45, with salt and pepper hair and a kind smile. he reminded you of your father.

“i can call a cab; it’s okay.”

“i’m going right down the road from there, it’s no trouble, sweetheart.” you looked down at the watch michael had gotten for you, realizing that if you weren’t at the studio in thirty minutes, teddy would have your head on a stick.

“are you sure?” you asked politely. mr. harlan just motioned for you to get in the car, and you did.

the ride was short and pleasant, making small talk with mr. harlan as he asked you about your job, making a quick comment that “no one’s seen you around for a while.”

before you knew it, you were at work, with five minutes to spare. you turned to him with a genuine smile, “thank you so much mr. harlan, really.” you leaned over and gave him a quick appreciative hug. he patted your back gently. you smiled brightly as you pulled away, “you’re a lifesaver.”

after a quick touch-up in the bathroom, you made your way to the control room. wanting to make sure you set everything up perfectly for michael’s arrival later in the day. as you walked in, you felt your heart skip a beat. michael was already there, sitting at the mixing board with a notebook and pen in his hand.

“oh my god, you scared me!” you exclaimed, feeling your heart rate increase at the sight of him.

he didn’t turn around. he didn’t move a muscle.

you dropped your clipboard and bag on the couch as you made your way over to him. “what are you doing here?” you asked excitedly. “i thought you were getting in later?”

nothing.

your heart rate spiked again, not from excitement, but from rising dread. your stomach twisted with confusion.

“is everything okay?” you asked, grabbing his shoulder gently. he didn’t even look at you. just continued scribbling in his notepad like you didn’t exist.

you were interrupted by teddy, bruce and bill’s arrival to the room. which signaled it was time for you to be the junior assistant producer, not the concerned girlfriend.

your stomach twisted with nerves all day long. every thought was consumed by the terrifying possibility that the love he had poured into you so completely could be taken away in an instant.

his silence was tearing you apart. what happened? did something happen on his trip? did you do something?

you tried your best to carry on with your routine as normal, but this time he ignored every gesture. when you gave him more water, he didn’t even turn his head to look at you; he just continued his conversation with your boss. when you lowered the lights for him later in the session, he didn’t mouth ‘thank you’ to you like he normally did. he was stone cold. it was like you weren’t even there. it was driving you crazy.

it was eating you alive. every ignored glance, every silent dismissal, carved a deeper hole inside your chest.

the day dragged for what felt like an eternity, your chest aching with confusion, desperate to get anything out of michael. once the others stepped out for their smoke break, leaving you and michael alone, you approached him. your voice barely above a whisper.

“michael… what’s wrong? did something happen? you’re scaring me.”

he finally turned his head, eyes dark and cold. he had a look on his face that you had never seen before. it made your chest tighten.

“who was that?” he asked calmly, voice low and controlled. you looked at him with pure confusion.

“mr. harlan?” you asked, keeping your voice low in case anyone was lingering in the hallway. “he’s my neighbor. my car wouldn’t start this morning, so he gave me a ride… is that what this is about?”

michael searched your face for what had to be the thousandth time since he met you. only this time, he wasn’t studying your face to memorize it. he was hunting for a sign of dishonesty. “a ride,” he repeated, keeping his glare intense.

“yes, michael. a ride.”

“then tell him to give you one back home,” he stated coldly as he stood, grabbing his jacket off the back of his chair. he brushed past you without another word.

the next week was agonizing.

every day he came to the studio late, and every day he left early, without looking in your direction once. he wore his aviators the entire time, like he was deliberately blocking you from seeing his eyes.

you spent every day watching him ignore you at work, then spent every night calling his bedroom phone dozens of times, leaving messages of desperation that always went unanswered. each silent hour chipped away at your sanity. you couldn’t eat, you couldn’t sleep. you felt like a shadow of yourself…. like you didn’t exist for yourself anymore. instead, you were an extension of him, and you couldn’t function without him.

you started to make mistakes at work. on thursday, day 4 of silence, you handed teddy a mislabeled tape. he scolded you right then and there, in front of your colleagues, and in front of michael. the old you would’ve been devastated to make such a stupid mistake at a job that meant the world to you… but the new you was only devastated that michael sat there, expressionless behind his aviators, watching you fight back tears at the embarrassment.

he offered you zero comfort as he left early again that day.

by friday, you were physically and mentally exhausted. you felt hollow. starved. like someone had reached inside your chest and ripped out the warmth he had so carefully filled you with. the same man who told you he loved you more than he’d ever loved anyone was now making you feel completely discarded. unimportant. unworthy. the contrast was physically painful. every small movement he made sent your heart lurching with desperate hope, only for it to crash violently when he looked straight through you.

the guilt was relentless. michael’s silence made it crystal clear: this was your fault. you had done this. the realization made you nauseous. all common sense vanished. you knew deep down you hadn’t done anything wrong, yet the guilt ate you alive.

you couldn’t take it anymore. you were unraveling at a terrifying rate.

teddy and the others had stepped out to grab dinner, and to your surprise michael stayed behind. leaving the two of you alone for the first time in days. the studio was silent except for the low hum of the equipment. michael stayed sat at the mixing board, staring at a track list. you stood at the back of the room for a long moment, heart hammering, before you finally spoke.

“michael…” your voice came out small and shaky. “please. i can’t stand this anymore.”

he didn’t turn around.

you moved closer until you were standing right beside him. tears were threatening to spill from your eyes. “i’m so sorry. i never meant to hurt you. there’s no one else. only you. i’ll do anything to make this right. i love you.” you confessed through a shaky breath.

he removed his aviators slowly, setting them on the console with deliberate care, before finally turning to look at you. his eyes were dark, filled with jealousy and hurt. he stood from his chair, towering over you in the dim studio light.

you were shaking, guilt and desperation clawing at your throat. “tell me what to do,” you whispered brokenly. “i’ll do anything. please.”

michael stared at you for a long and heavy moment. jealousy and love twisted together in his expression. then he walked past you without a word. for one terrifying second, you thought he was going to leave. instead, he locked the studio door with a quiet click that echoed throughout the tension filled room.

“get on your knees,” he ordered, voice low and commanding.

“what?” you choked out, baffled by his tone and words.

he stepped closer, pupils blown wide, the thick outline of his cock already straining against his jeans. he looked at you like he never had before… like he was starving and possessive.

“prove it to me,” he said, voice low and rough. “prove that you’re mine.”

in that moment, something shifted in him. the power he had over you was intoxicating, and he knew it.

your legs gave out before your mind could catch up. you dropped in front of him, knees hitting the carpet, heart hammering so hard you felt dizzy. you looked up at him as he unzipped his jeans, pulled out his thick, heavy cock, and fisted it slowly right in front of your face.

“open,” he ordered.

you obeyed instantly, lips parting. he grabbed the back of your head and pushed forward, sliding his cock into your mouth in one quick thrust.

“fuck… that’s it,” he groaned, voice dripping with lust. “take it like a good girl.”

he fucked your mouth with deep strokes, holding your head in place while you drooled and gagged around him.

“look at me,” he growled, fingers tightening in your hair. “look at me while i own this pretty mouth.”

you looked up at him through your lashes, your eyes lightly lined with tears as you took him as deep as you could. you felt your panties pool with your arousal at his words. you felt completely dominated by him… and you seemed to love it by the way you were throbbing underneath your skirt.

his thrusts were relentless, caring only about his pleasure for the first time. your throat tightened around his length as you struggled to breathe through your nose. you were too desperate for him to want you again to even consider tapping out.

sensing you needed a break, he pulled out suddenly, leaving you gasping for air as he stood above you. his cock was glistening with your spit as he stroked himself roughly, staring down at you with dark, possessive eyes.

“you okay?” he practically moaned out; the sight was fucking obscene. the way he towered above you, tugging at his length. he looked so powerful. he had complete control over you, and he loved it.

you were breathing hard, chest rapidly falling up and down, your heart going a million miles a minute. you couldn’t help but smile as you nodded at him, he’s still making sure i’m okay. that was the loudest thought in your head.

he shook his head slightly, acknowledging your consent, then slapped his cock repeatedly against your lips. “beg for it,” he demanded, “beg me to fuck your throat some more.”

“please, michael… please use me. i’ll be a good girl i promise.”

a dark, satisfied sound left his throat as he slid his cock back into your mouth, fucking it harder.

“good girl,” he rasped. “look so pretty gagging on my cock, baby.” he moaned his pet name for you so easily that it made your stomach twist in desire. his praise was the most important thing in the world to you. hearing him call you good, pretty, baby being enough to get you clenching around nothing as he used you.

“i’m gonna come down your throat,” he growled, staring down at you with possessive eyes. “and you’re going to swallow every drop like a good girl. do you understand?”

you whimpered around his cock, nodding desperately as best you could. with a low, guttural groan, michael buried himself deep and came hard. thick, hot spurts of his release flooded your mouth and slid down your throat as he held your head in place.

“swallow it all. that’s it… good fucking girl,” he moaned.

you obeyed, throat working around him as you swallowed every drop. the act felt degrading and intimate all at once. something he had never made you do before.

when he finally pulled out, you were gasping, coughing… and so wet. your lips were swollen and slick with a mixture of your spit and bits of his cum. you felt owned and wanted all at once.

michael dropped to his knees in front of you almost immediately. his hands were gentle as they cupped your face, his eyes softening.

“come here, baby,” he whispered before pulling you in for a deep, claiming kiss. his tongue brushed against yours, tasting what he had done to you. he eventually pulled away, pressing a quick kiss to your nose before resting his forehead against yours.

“i’m sorry,” you whispered, looking up at him with tear-stained and desperate eyes.

“i know,” he responded, brushing his thumb across your swollen lips. “i’m terrified of losing you,” he confessed softly, sincerity laced in his words. “i love you so much.”

you felt all of your anxiety wash away in that exact moment. you hadn’t even noticed how he didn’t apologize for ignoring you all week long… all you felt was pure relief. like you were an addict finally getting a fix.

“i love you so much, michael.” you replied, grabbing his face as his forehead remained against yours. “you’ll never lose me.”

for the first time, his love felt conditional… and you had just proven you would do anything to keep it.

────୨ৎ────

part IV, the descent.

the days after that night in that studio were so euphoric. you were on a complete high, reeling from the way he degraded you in such a loving way. beyond relieved that he had finally put you out of the misery of missing him. things felt so good again.

he returned to his loving and attentive ways immediately, reminding you exactly why you had fallen in love with him. he thanked you for every small thing you did for him in the studio, and resumed asking you for your opinion on tracks. once he even pulled you into his lap when people left the room, whispering how proud he was of you. repeatedly saying, “no one understands me like you do.”

the sex returned instantly too, but now it carried a new edge. he was still tender for the most part, taking his time worshipping you and pressing his lips to the pulse point on your neck like he wanted to taste your heartbeat. but occasionally he would hold your throat while he stretched you wide with his cock as deep as he could go, admiring the way he could see the outline of himself in your stomach. sometimes making you repeat “i’m only yours” like a prayer before he lets you finish.

you learned very quickly that if you ever upset him, he would simply draw back. sometimes slowly… sometimes all at once. and you couldn’t stand the thought of losing his warmth. losing his love.

the more love he gave you, the more intoxicated you became. you strived to be perfect for him; wearing his favorite outfits, the lipstick he complimented most. it felt right. it felt natural to cater to him. you loved how it made you feel when he was pleased with you. you would go to the ends of the earth to keep him smiling at you.

the gifts kept coming: new louboutins, surprise weekend getaways, beautiful lingerie…  one evening, tangled together in bed, hot and sweaty after your respective orgasms, he reached into the bedside table and pulled out a leather journal.

“i’ve been wanting to give you this,” he whispered, handing you the small notebook. “you’re the only person i’ve ever given everything to,” he said. moving his hands to brush your hair behind your ear so he could watch your face as you opened it.

inside, michael had written several pages of his own thoughts, lyrics, and little love notes with silly drawings scribbled next to them.

you looked up at him with loving eyes. he looked so handsome. the warm firelight danced across his face so delicately. his curls, sweaty and loose, fell into his face as he looked back at you.

“flip to the end, baby.”

you flipped through the blank pages of the journal to find a note at the end: “because your mind is as beautiful as you are. write everything here. i want to know every part of you. love, michael.”

“i don’t know how i ever worked before i met you,” he said, voice genuine. “you’re my muse. maybe i can be yours… write all of your ideas here. for songs, for your future, i’ll help you get everything you’ve ever wanted.”

your mind was dizzy with love. you had never imagined love could feel this strong, this consuming, this holy.

you rode him like you were trying to climb inside his soul. you pushed him down onto the bed and straddled his hips, sinking onto his thick cock in one slow, greedy motion. a broken moan left your lips as he stretched you open. michael’s hands gripped your waist tightly, but he let you set the pace, watching your face twist in pleasure as you adjusted to his size.

you rolled your hips desperately, taking him deeper with every movement. the wet sound of your bodies meeting filled the room, along with your soft, needy whimpers for him.

“fuck, baby,” he groaned, eyes dark as you began to bounce on his cock. “look at you. so fucking obsessed with me.”

you leaned forward, bracing your hands on his chest, riding him harder. “i love you,” you gasped. “i love you so much.”

his grip tightened, fingers digging into your skin as he pulled you deeper. “then show me,” he rasped. “show me who this pussy belongs to.”

his words sent a fresh wave of heat through you. you rode him faster, grinding down on him with every stroke, chasing the feeling only he could give you.

“god, you feel so good,” he moaned, eyes dark as he thrusted up to meet your rhythm. “this pussy was made to be fucked by me. made to be filled by me.”

you came hard around his cock, the feeling of him pulling you deeper combined with the quiet shame of being so openly objectified sending you over the edge. as you cried out his name, clenching around him, he flipped you over without warning.

he pinned your wrists above your head and fucked you through your orgasm with deep, punishing thrusts.

“you’re mine,” he growled, voice low and possessive. “no one else gets you. no one else gets to touch you. no one else gets this.” he slammed into you harder. “say it.”

“i’m yours,” you sobbed, tears of overwhelming pleasure slipping down your cheeks. your overstimulated pussy being fucked mercilessly by him, “only yours, michael.”

“you belong to me,” he moaned as he came inside of you for the first time. “take it. take all of me.” he buried himself to the hilt, pushing himself up against the deepest part of you. you felt his cum flood deep into you as he throbbed inside of your clenching hole. he stayed pressed up against you for what felt like forever, breathing hard against your neck while he slowly and gently fucked his hot seed deeper inside of you.

you had never been finished in before. the feeling was overwhelming. physically and emotionally. you could feel each strong spurt marking you from the inside. filling you so completely that the excess started to leak out around where you were stretched tight around him.

emotionally, you felt claimed. and it terrified you how much you wanted it. how badly you needed to be his.

tears slipped down your cheeks as you clung to him, trembling. he lifted his head from your neck and kissed them away as he softened inside of you, murmuring how much he adored you. he pulled out gently and gathered you into his arms, holding you impossibly tight. “my perfect girl,” he murmured, stroking your hair. “i don’t know what i’d do without you.”

from that point on, he stopped pulling out and always finished inside of you.

the months following blurred into something you no longer recognized as your own life. michael had meticulously wrapped himself into the very fabric of your being. he was at the forefront of everything.

you stopped having car issues because michael bought you your dream car, and then gently suggested you just use one of his drivers instead. “it’s safer,” he said one night while kissing along your collarbone, “i can’t focus if i’m worried about you, baby. let me take care of you the way you take care of me.”

he started paying your rent without asking, then soothed your hesitation with soft kisses and quiet logic. “i feel guilty that you’re paying for a place you’re barely at anymore. you’ll always have a home with me.”

every time your family or friends called, he was right there. rubbing your back gently as you spoke, whispering sweet nothings in your other ear.

his anger was never loud. he never raised his voice at you. he was never violent. he didn’t need to be.

he had trained you well.

teddy had a guest in the studio one night, a member of the new band blackstreet, who teddy swore was going to be the next big thing. you must’ve spoken to the man for too long, or smiled at him too warmly, because you felt michael’s eyes burn into you immediately.

you instantly felt guilt twisting in your stomach… you knew that look. you had learned to read every subtle shift in his mood like your life depended on it. and right now, it felt like it did.

michael didn’t give you the silent treatment like before; this time he simply removed the warmth. he stopped calling you “baby” or “sweet girl”, and when you reached for his hand in the car, he let you hold it but offered no squeeze in return. at night, he still held you close, his body a solid presence against yours, but the tender kisses behind your ear and along your arms were gone. the absence of those small affections carved deeper into you than any argument ever could.

you tried desperately to bridge the gap. one evening, curled against his chest in bed, you whispered, “i love you.” he responded with the same words, voice soft, but he didn’t look at you. his gaze stayed fixed on the ceiling, and the conditional nature of his love had never felt more real, or more terrifying.

the fear that he might slip away completely ate away at you. you couldn’t bear another day of his emotional distance. so that night, after he left for a late meeting, you slipped into his favorite lingerie… a delicate black lace set he had once said made you look like his own personal angel.

your hands trembled as you fastened the garters. you had bought a shiny pair of metal cuffs earlier that day… cuffs you hoped would prove how far you were willing to go. when you heard the front door open, your heart slammed against your chest. you stood in the middle of the bedroom, the cuffs dangling from your fingers, the dim lamplight casting soft shadows across your barely-covered body.

michael stepped into the room and stopped short, eyes widening slightly at the sight of you.

“what are you doing?” he asked, voice low, a mix of surprise and something darker flickering across his face.

you stepped closer, holding the handcuffs out to him like an offering. your voice came out breathy, laced with desperation and a dangerous kind of devotion.

“i’m offering you everything,” you whispered, eyes locked on his. “all of me. i’m yours to use however you want.”

for a moment, he just stared at you, the air between you thick with tension. then something in his expression shifted; hunger overtaking the lingering coldness. he grabbed the handcuffs from your hand, the metal clicking softly as he circled behind you. he pulled your arms back firmly and locked the cuffs around your wrists, the cool bite of the metal sending shivers down your spine, before pulling you back into him. you could feel how hard he was already… your desperation making all the blood rush to his cock.

his hand slid down your body possessively, reaching between your legs. his fingers brushed over your soaked lace panties, pressing against your aching pussy.

“look at how wet you get when you submit to me,” he murmured, voice rough and low against your ear. he pushed the lace aside and sank two fingers inside you without warning, curling them deep. you gasped, knees nearly buckling at the sudden fullness.

“so fucking eager,” he continued, pumping his fingers slowly, deliberately. “so pathetic and perfect for me.”

he withdrew his fingers quickly, leaving you throbbing and empty, and guided you toward the large mirror. he bent you over the edge of the bed, your cuffed hands resting against your lower back. you watched in the reflection as he freed his thick cock, stroking it only once before lining himself up.

“eyes on the mirror,” he ordered, gripping your hips hard enough to bruise. “i want you to watch exactly what i do to you… and what you let me do.”

he thrust into you in one brutal stroke, the sudden stretch intense and consuming. his pace was instantly rough, giving you no time to adjust as he yanked back on the cuffs restraining your arms behind your back, forcing your body to arch for him.

“that’s it,” he groaned, voice low and filthy. “look at how this pussy swallows my cock. so desperate to be fucked by me.”

the combination of the restraints, his degrading words, and the relentless pleasure left you trembling. tears of overwhelming sensation slipping down your cheeks as you stared at your reflection; flushed, bound, completely at his mercy. the fucked-up thing was how much wetter it made you. he could feel it, your arousal coating his cock and dripping down your thighs.

“you love this, don’t you?” he growled, slamming into you harder, using the cuffs to pull you back onto him with every thrust. “you love it when i use you, love knowing i own every inch of you.”

“yes- yes, i love it,” you sobbed, voice breaking.

“good girl,” he praised, “who do you belong to, baby?” he asked as he started rolling his hips, swirling the tip of his cock impossibly deep inside of you. “tell me.”

the filth spewing from his lips mixed with the overwhelming pleasure sent you spiraling. you screamed out “you, you, you” as your orgasm crashed over you violently. your pussy clenching around him as you cried out for him, tears flowing freely now.

michael didn’t slow down. he fucked you through it, chasing his own release. he followed right behind with a deep, guttural groan, burying himself as deep as he could possibly go before shooting his load inside of you.

he reached down between your thighs, where the two of you were still connected, and carefully scooped up the cum that was dripping out of you and down his cock on his fingers before grabbing your hair with his other hand to force you to look back into the mirror.

he moved his cum soaked fingers in front of your face, and without him needing to say a word, you opened your mouth, swirling your tongue around his fingers, hallowing your cheeks to suck him clean.

he moaned deeply at the sight of your reflection in the mirror in front of him, pushing his fingers deeper in your mouth as you also watched yourself taste him.

he gently pulled out, unlocked the handcuffs, then turned you around and pulled you into his arms. the sudden gentleness after the roughness made you latch onto him harder. he pressed soft kisses to your forehead, your temples, your swollen lips.

“you’re so beautiful,” he whispered, voice hoarse but warm again. “i needed that. you always know what i need.”

after that night, you consciously stopped making eye contact with other men, especially when michael was around. you had noticed how much more he praised you when your attention belonged only to him.

he would always be subtle, pulling you in for a hug from behind and whispering, “you’ve been so good to me lately.” before showering the back of your neck in kisses.

the two of you spent countless sleepless nights together curled up on the couch flipping through the journal he gave you. he would pull you into his lap, gently rubbing your back as he flipped through your scribbles of lyrics and arrangement ideas.

subconsciously, you were writing what you thought he would like. you memorized the way he worked in the studio. you convinced yourself it was still passion for the work. but he had become your work. your mentor. your provider. and you were so thankful he was all of those things wrapped into one.

“these are beautiful,” he would whisper, pointing to different lyrics throughout the journal. “i love the way you think, baby,” he’d say, kissing your temple. and all you could think about was him.

the long days in the studio dwindled as the album neared completion. the energy was bittersweet. a mix of pride and quiet melancholy as everyone sensed the end of a chapter approaching.

one afternoon, teddy pulled you aside near the back of the control room while michael was momentarily out of earshot.

“you’ve been incredible, kid. michael’s been singing your praises nonstop. to me, to the label, everyone. he really believes in you. i’ve got some more hands-on work coming up with blackstreet after this wraps. real producing credits. you earned this. you should thank him; he’s the reason doors are opening for you like this.”

you smiled, a small flicker of genuine professional excitement warming your chest for the first time in months. “teddy, wow, i… thank you. that means everything.”

that night, curled up against his chest on the couch, you told him what teddy had said. your voice was gentle, full of gratitude.

“he said i earned it… and that i should thank you. that you’ve really been looking out for me.”

michael pulled you closer, stuffing his face in the crook of your neck, breathing in your scent. his voice was low, warm, and laced with that familiar need.

“he’s right, baby, you did earn it… and you should thank me,” he said softly, placing a quick kiss to your skin as he lifted his head from your neck. he looked at you with those big brown eyes, soft and vulnerable but laced with quiet desperation. “thank me by working with me.”

you furrowed your brows, completely confused. “work with you?” you repeated, searching his face.

“i can’t imagine doing another album without you. you always know what i’m thinking before i even say it.” his thumb brushed your lower lip, eyes soft but intense. “i’ve given you everything… haven’t i? i kept my word,” he paused, his fingers gently tracing your jaw, “please give this to me.”

you felt that familiar pull; the intoxicating mix of love and the deep fear of disappointing him. but this time there was no internal fight. you leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his lips with complete devotion.

he really had given you everything. a life of luxury, of love. he had taken a chance on you when no one else would. and now he was offering you a future by his side.

“i’ll resign after the album is finished,” you reassured him, sweeping the curls from his face as his eyes grew larger with each word that fell from your lips. “i don’t want to do any of it without you either.”

he exhaled like a weight had been lifted, pulling you tighter into his chest. in that quiet moment, you felt the final piece of yourself settle fully into his grasp. your dreams, your career, your future… they all belonged to him now. and you had never felt more at peace with it.

[mjsbrat]

have a 6 hour travel day ahead of me…. gonna brainstorm some ideas😝