SHE’S OBSESSED

Very, very new to writing fanfic please be gentle!

[obsessedfemale]

obsessedfemale masterlist

still dipping my toes in fanfic but having the best time !!

ONE SHOTS:

Wedding Night Yearning; fluff, bad!era michael, sweet, suggestive, established relationship BOTDF Fitting; smut, botdf!era michael, dirty talk, established relationship

SERIES:

Meeting Michael Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4

Lazy Days & Nights Part 1 // Part 2

[obsessedfemale]

I WANT TO WATCH // ONE SHOT synopsis: Michael wants to see how you take care of yourself while he's away.

tags: 18+ smut, MDNI! slightly dom!michael, sub!reader, no specific era cw: sexual themes, 18+ (MDNI), established relationship, kissing, masturbation, dirtyyyy talk, slight choking, praise!kink, cursing, no use of y/n, use of "baby", "good girl" (yk I love a pet name) word count: 2k disclaimer: this story is a work of fiction. every element of this work is used in a fictitious manner, including all names, characters, places, and events, and is not an accurate portrayal of real-life people, dead or alive. any resemblance to actual persons, dead or alive, is purely coincidental due to the author's creative writing.

You and Michael sat on the living room couch, like you had been most of the day. Your head laid across his lap, your legs stretched out across the cushions as you read your book; Michael sat up straight, one hand fiddling with some lyrics on a pen and pad, his other resting gently on your stomach. Every so often you’d glance up from your book just to look at him. His jaw, his eyelashes. The way he’d rub his finger along his bottom lip as he pondered and pieced together his work. He was so beautiful, and you felt so lucky to just be here, doing nothing, with him. 

As you finished out another chapter of your book, you slipped your bookmark between the pages, shut it, and tossed it down on the couch next to you. You just wanted to look up at Michael and watch him. It caught his attention; he looked down at you, smiling. 

“What?” he smirked. 

“Nothing! I was just lookin..’” Your hands gently clutched at his arm that wrapped around you, sweetly stroking lines up and down. 

Michael leaned down, brought his hand to your cheek, and kissed you. It was comfortable, safe, almost instinctual. It was perfect. His hand remained wrapped around your face, his thumb gently stroking your cheek. 

Your contentment turned to nausea when the thought struck you that this was one of the last days you would have with Michael before he left for tour. 

“I’m gonna miss ya so much when you leave. I wish we could stay like this forever.” You couldn’t look at him as you said it, your face turning into his cheek, looking for more of his comfort. 

“I know, baby. Me too. But it’ll go fast and you’ll come visit, ‘member?” He clutched your cheek tighter.

“I know. I know. It’ll be fun to visit. I just…I’m gonna miss this. The way you hold me… the way you feel.” You looked up at him again, a cheeky smirk tugging at his lips. Hearing you say you loved the way he touched you made him proud. 

“I’m gonna miss it too, but we’ll talk every night and it’ll feel like I’m here.” 

You huffed and turned your head away again. You tried to push the thoughts of all of that away and just enjoy right now. 

Michael’s hand slipped back down to meet yours, resting on your stomach. Just resting it there, on top of yours. Gently, sweetly. 

There was a lull. You could feel him looking at you. 

You felt Michael shifting, and heard his pen and pad drop to the floor beside the couch. He brought his other hand to your head, slowly caressing your forehead and running his fingers through your hair. 

“Do you ever…y’know… when I’m away. Do you ever–” 

Your eyes darted up at him, eager to hear what words might come next. 

“You know..” He swiftly tilted his head, motioning towards your feet, grinning. 

“What? Do I ever what?” Curiosity tugged at your brows, they furrowed as you turned to get a better look at him, trying to understand what he was getting at.  

“Do you ever…touch yourself. When I’m not here..” He smiled, shyly. His hand clutched yours harder. 

A quick huff of air shot from your nose. You giggled nervously. 

“Yeah… sometimes.” You said with a girlish smile. You caught his eyes. They were sinking into deep, dark, pools of lust.  

“Really?...” His voice dropped lower, his tone became more serious, more focused. 

“Yeah…” You felt your cheeks flush red hot. You never felt shy around Michael when it came to sex, not anymore, but you had never talked about this. It felt so raw, so intimate. 

“Whadda think about… when ya do it?” His voice was so soft it was almost a whisper. 

You bit down on your bottom lip, you felt a shyness rumbling deep in your core. 

“You…obviously.” Your voice barely above a whisper. 

“Really..” 

“Yeah.. and the stuff we do together..y’know?” You bit down on your lip. 

He nodded, and a satisfied, closed mouthed smirk ran across his face. He leaned down and kissed you again. This time, he lingered on your mouth, clutching your hair. He let out a small, barely audible moan. 

“I want to see how you do it.” Michael’s eyes peered into yours, serious, lustful. “I want to watch you do it.” 

Your hand flew up to cover your eyes. You suddenly felt insecure, nervous. At the same time, hearing Michael say that had sent a pulse to your core, and your legs involuntarily shut. 

Michael reached for your wrist, pulling your hand off of your eyes, and kissed you again. With your wrist in his hand, he slowly guided you down towards the waistband of your shorts. 

“C’mon baby. You don’t have to be shy. It’s just me.” 

You let him guide your hand, watching his face watch you. You bit down hard on your lip. You were filled with a vulnerability you had never felt and a raging heat deep in your core all at once, a wonderfully strange bundle. Michael slowly parted your legs, lightly dragging his fingers down each thigh. 

Your chest rose and fell quickly, your heart beating uncontrollably as Michael unbuttoned your shorts, pulled down the zipper, and guided your hand under the fabric. 

“Ya know, this way, I can picture you..when we’re on the phone together..when I’m gone. You can touch yourself while you listen to my voice…And it’ll be like I’m right here.” Michael rubbed his hand up your torso, over your tits, and onto your neck.

You had just barely slipped your hands into your shorts, your fingers laying still between your shorts and your thong. Your heat warmed them as Michael's soft, slow tone coaxed you into full arousal. 

He pulled you in for one more deep kiss. 

“Show me, baby. Don’t be nervous.” 

At his command, you slipped your hands fully into your shorts and applied firm pressure to your aching clit. Your slick soaked through the fabric; your back arched slightly off the couch. A dainty guttural moan vibrated in your throat. 

You looked up at Michael for his reaction; his eyes locked on your crotch intently, his lip sucked up under his teeth. He felt your gaze and met you there, giving you a small smile and a reassuring nod. 

“That’s it baby, keep going.” 

You slipped just your middle digit down your crease and back up, landing on your clit again, firmly pressing into your slick this time. Your mouth opened to release a small, breathy moan. 

Michael’s hand drifted to your tits, rubbing gently and slowly. 

“Good girl. That feels good, doesn’t it?” 

You cocked your head back, your neck curving around his thigh. You nodded desperately, your mouth hanging open waiting for his kiss. 

Michael, without breaking eye contact, pulled at your hand by your wrist. You let him lead your hand out and up to your mouth. 

“Suck.” He guided your wet fingers to your mouth, you wrapped your lips around them, tasting the faint residue from your folds. 

“There you go… get ‘em nice and wet. Like you do f’me…” He watched with parted lips before guiding you back down to your center. 

You slipped your fingers under the fabric of your thong this time, letting the wetness of your mouth melt into the slick of your folds. You drug your fingers up and down before focusing your attention on your clit, rubbing in circles slowly, alternating pressure and speed. 

You found your pace; your hips beared down as your chest rose in a measured rhythm. Your eyes shut hard, your mouth hung open. 

“Mm, god… you look s’pretty like this.” You felt Michael readjust himself, pulling at his trousers. The sight of you playing with yourself made his cock bulge against his pants. 

He slipped his hand beneath your neckline and found your nipple; he lightly teased at it until it was hard and sensitive. He did the same with the other. 

His touch made your own that much better. It prickled your skin from head to toe. You had come completely undone, and any nervousness had quickly evaporated. 

“Fuck… so pretty.” He palmed himself over his slacks, his eyes darted from your crotch to your open mouth. He leaned down and his mouth met yours; it was eager, wet, and messy. Your tongues danced around each other as his hand gripped your chin, guiding your movements. 

He leaned back again to watch your hand pulse beneath your shorts. 

“Take ‘em off. I want to see you. Really see you.” He reached down and tugged at your shorts; you slipped your hand out from the waistband and lifted your hips as you slowly pushed them off. 

You bent your knees and planted your feet flat against the cushion, letting your legs fall open just wide enough to slip your hand back between. At first just to cover yourself from the sudden exposure, but you quickly slipped a finger back between your folds to comfort your throbbing clit. 

“Let me see baby..” Michael reached down and gently parted your legs until they fell completely open. He let his hand fall down your thigh. 

“Mmm… I love seeing you like this…you’re so beautiful baby.” He leaned down for another quick kiss. He rubbed himself, inhaling sharply. 

You resumed your previous pace; you let everything else fall away and just focused on getting yourself to cum, on getting yourself to cum for Michael. 

He watched intently, his eyes wide and pupils blown, his hands exploring and caressing every inch of your body. 

You began to clinch tighter, your body aching for his length, his fingers. You dragged your fingers down your folds, gathering the pool of slick at your entrance, and spread it up to your clit, rubbing yourself faster this time. Your whimpers quicked, too. Keeping with the pace you had set yourself, you whined as you neared your peak. 

“That’s it, baby girl. You’re doing so good.” Michael slid his hand to your neck, his fingers gripping the hair at the nape. 

“Michael… fuck, Michael…” You reached up with your other hand, looking for him to ground yourself. You latched onto his forearm. 

“You gonna cum f’me, baby? Huh?” He leaned down and kissed you again, hard and wet. He pulled back and hovered above you, his hot breath dripping into you. 

“Yes, Michael, fuck–” you cried out, your voice shaky and weak. 

“C’mon baby, I want to watch you make yourself cum.” 

He sunk his tongue back into your mouth; the dual sensation of his hot, wet tongue, and your fingers desperately rubbing your clit was about to send you into a full tremor. 

Your back arched off the couch and your hips rolled into your hand, head digging into Michael’s lap even harder. Your mouth fell wide as your orgasm ripped through you, leaving you breathless. You snapped your legs shut around your hand, sending pressure to your throbbing clit, prolonging your release. 

“God, Michael…” You gasped, still trembling from your climax. 

“Fuck, baby… such a good girl… cummin’ f’me like that.” Michael leaned down, gripping your face, and kissed you. Firmly, but quick. He popped back up to take in your flushed expression as you came down. 

Your grip on him loosened as you attempted to catch your breath. Your eyes fluttered open searching for him, for his satisfaction. You caught his jaw first, a smile attempting to escape between his bit lip. 

His eyes scanned your face, your body, pleased with how you had just unravelled for him. 

You eyes finally met again. “God, baby…I’m gonna need to see that again.” He smirked. You smiled back, pleased with how enamored he was. 

You shot him a mischievous look, realizing you knew exactly what needed to happen next. 

“Your turn.”

[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.

[obsessedfemale]

wait I need more toxic mike I'm freaking out

[obsessedfemale]

Was just thinking about going to a fitting with Michael for BOTDF (established relationship). Michael’s insecure about his new look, but you can’t take your eyes off of him— in that burgundy fit, his hair pulled back with his curls dripping down his face. And those rings accentuating his long, thick fingers.

tags: BOTDF!michael, BOTDF!era, female!reader cw: sexual themes, 18+ (MDNI), established relationship, nasty smut, oral (m!receiving), use of daddy / good girl, light choking, public / unprotected, cursing, praise, breeding kink if you squint word count: 2k disclaimer: this story is a work of fiction. every element of this work is used in a fictitious manner, including all names, characters, places, and events, and is not an accurate portrayal of real-life people, dead or alive. any resemblance to actual persons, dead or alive, is purely coincidental due to the author's creative writing. ** was just going to do a quick one shot but got absolutely carried away and it accidentally got super h*rny-- my b !! **

“I don’t know… doesn’t feel right. God… I’ve really put it on.” Michael pulled at the silk button down and fussed with his collar.

Michael’s head stylist cut him off before he could say any more. “Oh Michael, you look great!” The gaggle of stylists nod and agree, offering their own compliments.

His head stylist catches you drooling as you watch Michael fidget in the mirror and grins.

“I like it… a lot.” You felt your head tilt and your mouth fall open as you drank him in.

Your index found its way to your mouth; you were biting down on it before you realized what you were doing. Michael looked good. Really good. He looked healthy, strong. You wanted nothing more than to have him smother you with his weight right there.

“Well let’s try the next one! Y/N— can you help him get into the next?” The stylist shoots you a wink as he steps out of the room.

“You really like it? You think I look okay?” As Michael walked towards you, you crossed your legs atop the velour ottoman in an attempt to contain your arousal.

“I do, I really… really do…” You looked up at him towering over you. Fuck, he looked good. You wanted– needed him bad.

“Wanna try the next one?” You shot him your biggest doe eyes and reached for the button on his pants.

“Sure…but you don’t have to—“

You shut him up by grabbing at his waistband and yanking him in closer. “I want to.”

Michael’s jaw fell unhinged, shocked at your sudden boldness. 

"Oh...it's like that, huh?" Michael's tongue punched his cheek, trying to hold back his widening grin.

"Uh-huh... I told you I liked this...a lot..."

His big hand slightly grazed your face, which was now directly facing his crotch, pushing your hair out of the way.

You slowly unbuttoned him, slipped the zipper down, and never broke eye contact.

“Mmm… I should bring you to all my fittings…” Michael grinned as you pulled down the waistband of his boxers and freed his already hard girth.

“Yes you should… Daddy.” Ever since you had actually made him a Daddy, you loved tossing the title around. It made him embarrassed in that cute, shy way if he wasn’t quite in the mood yet. But when he was, hearing you say Daddy made him hungry, desperate, it made him lose all control.

You swiped your tongue up his length from his base to his tip and swirled around his tip as you grabbed onto him with just the right pressure.

Michael sharply inhaled, “…hhssfuck… baby..."

You took as much of him as you could into your mouth. Eyes darting up at him. His head fell back as he latched onto your face with both hands now, firmly but gently.

You moan vibrated around his cock at the sight of his unraveling. Your panties were now soaked in your slick. With each re-entry of his throbbing cock to your pretty, wet mouth, you tried your best to take more and more of him. But Michael was big, really big.

"Jesus...baby..." Michael whimpered softly, his hips jerking into you with each stroke.

You reached up his torso, pawing at the buttons on his shirt. His hand met yours and assisted in their undoing.

Michael looked down and caught your doe-eyed glare. He quivered at the sight of your pretty, full lips wrapped around his cock.

"Fuck, baby, what're you trying to do to me... "

Your mouth left a wet "pop!" as you leaned back and licked Michael's pre-cum from your now shimmering lips.

"You started it... lookin' like that." You scanned him up and down, grinning. "And you shouldn't start things you can't finish."

Michael's heavy breath hitched. He grabbed your face and pulled you up from the ottoman by your chin to meet him face to face.

He thumbed at your bottom lip, pulling your jaw wide. He brought his open mouth to yours, filling it with his tongue. You moaned into him, his desperate kiss made your legs shake.

He pulled away just far enough to speak.

"I can make you finish..." before he dove back into your mouth. He gripped your ass, pulling your hips in to meet his. A shiver ran through your body.

Michael wrapped his arm around your waist and began guiding you to the dressing counter in the middle of the room. He pressed your back up against the cool marble, his hips sinking into yours. Your lips remained intertwined; Michael's warm tongue danced around your mouth, his teeth bit at your lips.

You grabbed onto his cock, slowly rubbing him.

"You want Daddy's cock, huh?" Michael slipped his mouth down your neck, nibbling and licking until your skin prickled.

A breathy "Uh-uh..." was all you could muster, your teeth dug into your bottom lip.

"Tell me how much you want Daddy's cock." Michael grabbed your face and pulled your gaze to meet his.

"I need it, Daddy." you said with your best pout. And you really were desperate, too. Your core throbbed at every touch, your folds were drenched in the thought of him.

"Mmmm... good girl." Michael spun you around and laid his hand on your back, guiding your chest to meet the cool marble.

He reached down under your dress, forced your lace panties aside, and glided his fingers through your slick.

"Hhsssfuck... baby... You didn't tell me you were this wet... you poor thing."

"Mm.. Michael.." You were already whimpering and twitching at his light touch.

"Be a good girl f'me, okay?"

"Yes Daddy." You whined.

Michael drug his cock through your folds, wetting his tip, making you squirm; you were desperate for him to fill you. He lined himself up to your entrance, wrapped one hand around your throat, and slowly sunk into you.

"Oh, fuck, baby...You feel s'good." His words slurred as he fully stretched you, you let out a breathy whine.

He slowly started pumping into you, letting you adjust to his thick girth. You reached down to grab ahold of his hand that was firmly holding your hips still.

"This what you wanted, baby?" He picked up his pace, properly pounding into you.

"Yes, god, fuck..Michael..." You screamed. The obscene sounds of your wet pussy being filled and your desperate whimpers echoed through the fitting room.

"Shhh.. shh baby. Gotta be quiet" Michael pulled you up to his chest, tucking his face into your neck. His hand clutched around your mouth.

"Mm.. good girl. Good girl. I'll try to be gentle, just don't scream." He slipped his two middle fingers into your mouth, and you sucked them hard. He rocked into your pussy with subtle, hard thrusts. He sucked at your neck, leaving wet, swollen marks.

As his pace intensified, Michael squeezed at your tits, still covered by your dress and push up bra. He pawed at the buttons looking for a way in. He desperately tugged at the seams until they split open, sending buttons flying left and right. You were so blissed out you barely noticed.

Michael popped his fingers out of your mouth and slid them down to your tits, wetting your tender nipples with your spit. He pinched them between his fingers while cupping your tits, sending shivers through your body.

"There you go, baby. That's a good girl."

Your back arched into him. You reached behind you to grab ahold of his neck to brace yourself for your approaching peak.

"You want me to put another baby in you, huh mama?

"Yes....fuck.. Michael..." his dick practically took your breath away, you could barely get the words out.

"Yeah? You gonna cum f'me?"

"Ye..yes" You shook your head against his shoulder.

"Yes, what?" His quiet, hot breath filled your ear, his tongue slipping in and out.

"Yes, Daddy..." You began to contract around his cock tighter and faster, your legs were about to give out.

Michael reached down and sunk his fingers into your slit, knowing it would send you over the edge. He drew circles around your clit until your thighs squeezed shut.

"..fuck.. Michael..I'm cum–” 

Michael pressed you both down onto the counter, keeping pressure on your clit as you convulsed through your orgasm. He quickly followed with slow, intentional thrusts, digging his fingers into your hip. He grunted into your neck as he shook, his hot cum filling you.

You drank in his heavy breath in your ear as you rode out your release, your chests heaving in unison.

"Mmm... jesus baby.." Michael braced himself on the counter, planting his palms on either side of your face. He left a trail of kisses on your cheek, down your neck, and onto your shoulder as he stood up straight.

You laid on the cool counter while you caught your breath. Michael rubbed your back gently as he pulled out.

"God you're so good to me baby... Such a good girl."

Michael reached over and grabbed an old t-shirt on the dressing counter and began cleaning you up. You stood up straight once he had finished, turned to face him, and pulled your skirt down.

"Oh shit!" He began to snicker.

"What!" you grinned back. You caught him looking at your chest, at which point you looked down, and realized all the buttons on your dress were destroyed in your pursuit of an orgasm.

"Oh shit!" You grabbed at yourself, giggling. "Michael!" You playfully swatted at him.

He leaned in closer, smiling wide. "I'm sorry sweetie, I got carried away." Laughing as he kissed you.

"I'll get ya a new one.” A peck. “And another for makin' me cum like that." He leaned in for a soft, tender kiss. His hands rested on your hips.

“Stay there.” 

Michael walked over to the door, peaked just his head out, and waved for the stylist.

You heard him whisper as you hid behind the cracked door to not be seen in your unravelled state.

"She's gonna need a new dress" He jerked his head in your direction. "Yeah, yeah, somethin' like she was wearin'. Short, black, sexy."

He shut the door and grinned as he looked at you, his hands resting on his hips. "You're trouble."

You giggle back at him and bat your eyelashes, pleased with your dirty escapades.

You helped him find his next outfit and dress him, exchanging flirty glances as you fidget with his collar. You catch his eyes locked on your still exposed breasts more than a few times.

The stylist knocks at the door and slips in just a hand to drop your new dress options, which Michael carefully sifts through.

"Oh yeah, yeah, this one, baby. Do this one." He hands you a short, black, sexy dress with a deep cutout down the front.

You giggle as you maneuver it on, and Michael zips it up the back.

"Fuck, baby, this one's perfect on you." He stood behind you in the mirror, lightly grazing your full hips. You smiled at him in the mirror, fussing with your tits around the deep cutout.

"I don't know, Michael, it's very...revealing.." You attempt at tucking your boobs into the fabric to keep them from spilling out.

"No, baby, it's perfect. I like it...a lot." He gave you a big grin and a kiss at your temple. "Too bad this one probably won't last long either."

[obsessedfemale]

PART FOUR //

READ FIRST // PART ONE // PART TWO // PART THREE

synopsis: Michael calls you to make plans. Part FOUR of many :) (I'm obsessed with how obsessed he was with the phone) tags: thrad / bad era!michael, female!reader genre(s): romance, love story cw: wholesome fluff, intro, light flirting, sexual themes (mdni) word count: 1k disclaimer: this story is a work of fiction. every element of this work is used in a fictitious manner, including all names, characters, places, and events, and is not an accurate portrayal of real-life people, dead or alive. any resemblance to actual persons, dead or alive, is purely coincidental due to the author's creative writing.

Two days later, a seemingly normal Tuesday, you’re still trying to come down from the experience. You haven’t said a word, not to anyone, and have vowed to keep it that way to not scare Michael off. 

Your mother is in the kitchen, once again, prepping dinner. Your father, home at a reasonable hour, is on the couch in the den, half asleep, half reading the newspaper. 

You hear the house phone ring in the distance. Only two rings in, you hear your mother–

“Hello? OH, hi!” Then silence. You can typically assume the phone call is for your father if you can no longer hear half of the conversation. 

A few minutes later, a knock on your bedroom door. 

“Y/N – phone call for you.” 

You dart to the door, eager to see who it could be. Surely, Michael wouldn’t be calling you, so you weren’t nervous. 

You swipe the phone from your father, he shoots you a leery look. You furrow your brows, confused as to what he's implying. 

You shut the door, turn, and bring the phone to your ear. 

“Hello?” 

“Hi Y/N…”

Your stomach drops. 

“Hello?” 

“How are you?” Michael asks, as if he did not just call your home, speak to your mother, then to your father, and then ask your father to speak to you…He didn’t seem phased in the slightest. 

“Uhh.. I’m good? How are you?” Your tone suspicious. 

“I’m good, thank you for asking. What’re you doing?” 

“I was just reading.” A nervous giggle slipped out. 

“Whatcha reading?”

“Um. Okay. Don’t laugh. But I was actually reading The Great Gatsby. I never actually read it in high school like I was supposed to.” You giggled, slightly embarrassed. You were sure Michael could feel the heat coming from your cheeks. 

“Oh yeah? I haven’t either. I’ve heard that’s a good one.” He was earnest, you could tell he was actually interested. 

“Really? Well you can have my copy when I’m done with it…if you’d like.” 

“I’d like that, thank you.” 

There’s a lull. You’re at a loss for words, so you eagerly wait for him to explain how he’s found the audacity to call you at home and why he would be calling you at home. 

“I’ve been thinking about you.” You can hear the smile on his face. You soften. You melt, in fact. 

“I haven’t stopped thinking about you.” A sudden burst of confidence falls out of your mouth, somewhat taken aback by how forward you were. 

You hear him giggle on the other line. “Good. I like that.” 

You smirk. A pause.

“I would like to invite you over for dinner, at my house. With my family, a-and yours.” His voice was slow and nervous. 

“Really?” Your tone a bit sassy, inquisitive. 

“Yes, I would really love for you to come.” 

“I would love that.” A small giggle slips out. 

“Good. Does tomorrow night work?” You can hear the confidence in his voice again. 

“Um yeah, sure, that totally works.” You agree, but the panic has already begun. 

What the hell will I wear? I’m not prepared for this. I need to get my hair done. My nails are a mess. 

But you know you can’t say no, your body physically wouldn’t let you even if your mind could find the words. 

“Great, I’ll see you tomorrow at seven.” You can hear him ready to hang up before you catch him. 

“Michael –”

“Yeah?”

“Wait did you– does my– did you ask my dad?” A slight giggle at the thought of how that conversation went. 

He laughs, heartily. “Yes. I already talked to him about it. Said I wanted everyone to meet, seems wrong that we never have.” 

“Oh.” You giggle.

“But I told him I wanted to invite you– personally.” His tone darker, more direct. 

“Oh. Well thank you. I appreciate the invite. It sounds fun.” 

“Hopefully…Bye Y/N”. You can hear the grin on his face. 

Your hand falls to your lap, the phone to the floor. 

What is happening?!? Once again, you can’t decipher if this is the most polite boy on the planet and he really does just want your families to meet, or if he just loves to watch you squirm. 

The next day, you shot out of bed bright and early, knowing your list of to-do’s was lengthy, and knowing you would need sufficient time to freak out before heading over to Hayvenhurst. 

Nails, then hair (finish reading The Great Gatsby in the chair), then the mall. You frantically dart from store to store, unable to locate the “perfect” outfit to wear to Michael Jackson’s house. For dinner. As if that exists. You leave with only a new bottle of Calvin Klein Obsession – your signature scent. 

You race home to begin your hours-long getting ready routine. You keep your makeup clean and minimal, similar to the other night, to not throw Michael off by showing up as a different woman. You settle on a simple skimming black baby tee, tucked into your best “look at my butt” jeans. A simple black, pointed toe bootie, and gold bracelets and rings. 

This will do the trick. You think to yourself. Not too casual, not too dressy. 

You shove your freshly finished copy of The Great Gatsby into your back pocket, drown yourself in a few more dozen sprays of Obsession, and you head down the staircase to meet your parents in the foyer. 

“I was half convinced you’d come down in a wedding dress,” your dad joked. 

Your mother scanned every inch of you, making sure you had “your face” on, and that your outfit "accentuated your best qualities”. She was nervous too, you could tell. 

Your father couldn’t be less bothered. But why would he be? He’s spent hours, days, at Hayvenhurst, and with Michael. This was just a chill, four-course meal for him. 

The three of you packed into your father’s black Mercedes, you silent in the backseat, trying to play it cool. As you neared the neighborhood, your legs began to shake and your stomach hollow. A brutal mix of excitement and nerves.

tag list: @hellokittyadictsworld

[obsessedfemale]

PART THREE // READ FIRST // PART ONE // PART TWO synopsis: After spending some time in the studio with Michael, he treats you to something sweet. Part THREE of many :) tags: thrad / bad era!michael, female!reader genre(s): romance, love story cw: wholesome fluff, intro, light flirting, sexual themes (mdni) word count: 1k disclaimer: this story is a work of fiction. every element of this work is used in a fictitious manner, including all names, characters, places, and events, and is not an accurate portrayal of real-life people, dead or alive. any resemblance to actual persons, dead or alive, is purely coincidental due to the author's creative writing.

“I have a little shop over here, with just about any flavor you could imagine.” 

Of course he has an ice cream shop at his house. He’s Michael Jackson. You felt silly for not already assuming so. 

As you trail slightly behind him, he turns his body to you, walking backwards up the drive.

“So…whadda think? Did you like what you heard?” 

“Of course! It was amazing. It’s cool to see how it all works”. 

“I’m glad you like it. We’ve worked really hard on it.” 

“We”. You repeated back in your mind. Your heart swelled, realizing how down to earth he really was.

You stepped into the un-manned ice cream shop behind Michael, just the two of you in there, alone. He started up the aisle along the freezer counter, pointing to the flavor at the end. 

“This one’s my favorite. Double chocolate.” He giggled. You met him at the end, glancing down to absorb the variety. 

“Wanna try it?” He looked over at you. 

“Well it’s your favorite, I guess I have to!” 

Michael grabbed a spoon from atop the counter and scooped. He brought the spoon to your mouth, not giving you a chance to grab it yourself. 

“Here.” His eyes met yours. Waiting for you to open your mouth for him. 

The thought sent a pulse to your core. 

You opened wide and took the spoon into your mouth, not breaking eye contact. It sent a chill down your spine. Michael’s eyes shifted to your mouth, and you saw his breath hitch. 

“You like it?” A heavy breath leaves his mouth as he questions you. 

“Mhmm” you nod your head and up down, biting your lip, as seductively as you could manage. You were sure this qualified as flirting now. And if there was any time to really turn it on, now was the time. Use that “face” your mother is always going on about. 

The fleeting moment hung over the both of you as long as you stayed in the ice cream shop. It was basically silent, aside from nervous giggles occasionally escaping your mouths. 

You made your way back to the driveway, back towards the studio. You stopped at one of the various parked cars and leaned your butts up against it as you finished your ice cream. 

“Thanks for letting me stay, and for the ice cream.” You turn towards him and flash a grin.

“Of course. I’m really glad you decided to stay.” He turns to face you, leaning his hip into the car.

“I really can’t wait to hear it all finished” You brought your spoon back up to your lips, hoping to catch him watching you open your mouth and slide the spoon in and out again. He does. 

There’s a silence as his eyes cling to your lips, now wet from the creamy double chocolate. 

You lick your lips slowly. Michael’s chest rises hard, and you can’t help but grin. He licks his lips too, still in a trance. He snaps out of it and pans around the driveway, exhaling. 

“Maybe you could come back when it’s all done. To listen, y’know.” 

“I’d love that.” You take just one step closer, hoping to get another whiff of him. 

He smiles and drops his head, almost as if he’s embarrassed. You catch his eyes slowly panning up your body, taking it all in and biting his lip, before he picks his head back up. 

Gulp. 

He walks you to your car, and beats you to the door handle. He opens it swiftly, allowing you to crouch in untethered. You slip the keys back into the ignition slowly. Michael rested his arm on the still open door, his body inside the door facing you. 

God, I love it when he towers over me. Looking down at me. This time, there’s an unmistakable lust in his eyes. 

“I’ll see you soon, hopefully.” You say as you lean out the door, a cheeky smile rips across your face.

He smiles, nods, and shuts the door. You see him watching you pull away in your rear view. Your mother’s tupperware still sitting on the coffee table inside the studio. 

Once you see the gate shut behind you, you take just a moment to lose your mind over what just happened. Your breath finally catches up to you, your heart races, you drop your face into your hands and screech. 

You’re on a high the whole way home. 

You slam your Benz into park once in your driveway and rip the keys out, unable to move quick enough to get inside and call someone, anyone, to tell them what just happened. You tear up the staircase, into your room and lock the door behind you. You grab the phone to dial. You pause. 

Maybe I shouldn’t. Should I? I neeed to tell someone. I can’t possibly keep this to myself. 

Surely, you can’t tell your mother. You can’t tell your father– oh god, no, never tell your father. You pace as you flip through your mental rolodex, phone to your chin. 

Who can be trusted with this information? This is Michael Jackson. I’m not sure anyone I know could resist telling the next stranger they meet that their best friend ‘flirted’ with Michael Jackson, at his house, eating ice cream. Oh, and her dad was there, too. 

You huff as you sit on the edge of your bed. This information is better kept close, for now. Don’t want to ruin a good thing before it’s even begun. 

You got yourself ready for bed, a smile never leaving your face. As you slip under the sheets, you can’t stop picturing Michael’s curls, his perfect smile, his smile while looking at you. His hands, my god, his hands. Heat radiates from you, and you can’t help but to slip your hands under the waistband of your pj bottoms, touching yourself while the images of Michael flash through your mind until you’re fast asleep.

tag list: @hellokittyadictsworld

[obsessedfemale]

PART TWO //

READ FIRST // PART ONE synopsis: Your mother sends you on an errand. You are reintroduced to Michael in an intimate setting. Part TWO of many :) tags: thrad / bad era!michael, female!reader genre(s): romance, love story cw: wholesome fluff, intro word count: 1.4k disclaimer: this story is a work of fiction. every element of this work is used in a fictitious manner, including all names, characters, places, and events, and is not an accurate portrayal of real-life people, dead or alive. any resemblance to actual persons, dead or alive, is purely coincidental due to the author's creative writing.

You had met Michael before, briefly. Your father had worked with him on Off The Wall and Thriller. It actually became somewhat of a brag you got to tell your friends, and anyone you met, quite frankly. 

“My dad is credited on the best selling album of all time!” You would slyly try to slip into conversation. 

So, yes, you had met Michael previously. At the Thriller party, and some awards show after party. But those times, you knew you may see Michael, and that you may interact. You would have time to prepare what you would say, and most importantly, ensure you wore the most glamorous, flattering dress you could find. You’d never interacted with him in such an intimate environment. You had no time to mentally, physically – OH GOD. 

Your mother was right. You really should have put your face on. Did she know? Did she betray you by not letting you in on this secret? Did she let you leave the house…knowing you would see Michael… looking like this? 

You’d let your mind wonder about that later. Right now, you had about 10 seconds to prepare what you might say to Michael when he exited the booth. 

“Hi!” His soft, sweet voice greeted you as he stepped out from the booth side door, directly to your left. 

“Hi. How’s it going?” The words fell out. You did an instant replay in your mind, and you breathed a sigh of relief – ‘Hi, how’s it going’ is a totally normal thing to say. You hadn’t embarrassed yourself – yet. 

“You’re Y/N, Bruce’s daughter, right? We met at the Thriller party, right?” 

You blush. How did he remember that? He must meet thousands of people. 

“Yes, hi again.” You smile, unable to tame it. 

“Thanks for bringing dinner. It smells great.” He made direct eye contact with you. You noted how gentle he really was. But you’d really wish he’d look away from you before you melted into a puddle on the floor. 

“Of course.” You manage to spit out. 

The other men began filing their plates, completely unaware that they were about to need to call an ambulance. You were about to hit the deck. 

Michael was in a dark green oxford, buttoned all the way to the top, but with the bottom three free. His white undershirt poked out underneath. Black slacks, and crisp, white socks paired with his signature black loafers. He had a black trucker hat on, with those intoxicating curls trellising out from underneath, brushing his cheeks. He was breathtaking. His skin was glowing, his smile radiant as he shot you a reassuring nod. 

“Stay and eat with us.” He said as he walked over closer to you, engaging you in what may be your last conversation on Earth. 

This man had no idea the effect he had on women, clearly. You could feel your cheeks white hot, creeping up to your ears, and the hairs on the back of your neck standing at attention. You kept your hands clasped shut directly in front of you, hoping it’d keep you from jumping out of your skin. 

“Oh, I already ate. But thank you!” Okay. That was normal too. This isn’t so bad. 

“Well stay anyway. You came all this way.” Maybe he did know what he was doing, but liked to watch you squirm. Surely it was obvious. 

“I could stay for a little.” you smile shyly in his direction. He catches your eyes and returns the grin. 

You sat on the beige leather couch to your right, finally glancing back around the room to see if any of the other men had witnessed your exchange, and if they could now see the heat radiating from your body. They were all engulfed in their plates, like typical men, but this time, it was a quality of theirs you were grateful for. 

Michael filled his and sat down right next to you on the couch. One of the other men starts going on about god-knows-what. You can’t hear anything anymore. Your heart is beating so fast it’s ringing in your ears. 

As he sat down next to you, you were hit with the sweetest, sexiest smell. Michael’s cologne. God, this man could hit me with his car and I’d say thank you. There was something about being in such a quiet, casual environment with him that really made him stand out even more. As if that was possible. 

You ran your hands up and down your exposed thighs, regretting the LBD you had chosen. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Michael’s glance follow your hands. Up, and down. 

My god. Michael Jackson is looking at your exposed thighs. Your anxiety was unable to keep quiet. 

Without thinking, you blurted out “So, you’re working on a new album?” in a low, hushed tone. Not wanting the others, mainly your father, to witness your sad attempt at “flirting”. 

“I am.” He said surely, another grin. 

“I can’t wait to hear it.” You look directly at him this time. With every normal sentence you’re able to manage, you gained a sliver of confidence.

Michael leaned towards you, forearms resting on his thighs, tilted his head down and over and smiled (again). “Well, stay for a bit and you can hear some.” 

Surely he could see you blushing this time. “I don’t want to intrude–”

“Oh please. I’d like for you to stay. Please.” He bumped your shoulder with his, and didn’t take his eyes off yours until you responded. 

“Okay. I’d like that.” Internally, you’re bouncing off the walls. 

Did he just beg me to stay? He must be the most polite guy ever, because there’s no way that he would beg me, of all people, to stay. Did I hear him correctly? Or am I slipping into delusion? 

The men finished up their dinner one by one, and began shifting around the room. Some slipping out the side door for a smoke, others pittered with the bulky machines that surrounded us. 

As Michael stood from the couch, he glanced down at you. 

“Make yourself comfortable. And don’t judge! We’re still working things out so it may be rough.” He giggled.

“I could never.” You smile up at him, realizing this angle of Michael might actually kill you. Towering over you, a slightly provocative glint in his eye. God, he is so handsome. 

You leaned back on the cool leather, crossing your right leg over your left. Michael told you to get comfortable, so you do.

The men got back to work, bellies pressed up against the bench, and you watched as their half bald heads bobbed back and forth between the hundreds of buttons. 

Michael walked back into the booth, and pulled the curtains back ever so slightly. A small smile pulls at your mouth, wondering if he did that so you could watch him, or so that he could watch you. Your mind raced with delusion and excitement. 

As he pulled headphones up and over his head, he looked right at you, smiled, and shot you a wink. 

Okay. That’s it. I’m not delusional. 

You twiddle with your fingers in your lap, unsure if you should look directly at him, or down at your feet. 

You spent the next hour in a daze, in awe of hearing his raw vocals with your own ears. You didn’t feel worthy. You were amazed with how he worked. It was magic. Every few minutes, you’d find a way to peel your eyes off of him and pinch yourself, reminding yourself that you are, in fact, awake. 

When the session came to a natural break, you stood, thinking you’d better head home before the leather couch beneath you became slick with your wetness. 

Michael popped out of the booth, his face dropped when he realized you were heading for the door. 

“You’re leaving already?!” He reached out his hand as if to say, no beg, you to stay. 

“Yeah, it’s late. I’d better get back.” You stepped closer to the door. 

“No! You have to stay for dessert. We can get ice cream!” He said excitedly. 

You pan over to your father, checking that he wasn’t clocking the obvious, albeit innocent, flirting that was being attempted. 

“Okay.. I guess.” You desperately tried to act cool, but a wide smile quickly filled your face.

“Anyone else wanna come?” He turns back to the men, who barely look up to decline. 

“I guess it’s just you and I then – come on.” He leads you out the door, back to the bricked driveway. You’re confused about how we’re going to acquire said ice cream. Your heart races again once you realize you’re about to be alone. With Michael Jackson.

[obsessedfemale]

PART ONE // synopsis: Your mother sends you on an errand. You are reintroduced to Michael in an intimate setting. Part one of many :) tags: thrad / bad era!michael, female!reader genre(s): romance, love story cw: wholesome fluff, intro word count: 1.7k disclaimer: this story is a work of fiction. every element of this work is used in a fictitious manner, including all names, characters, places, and events, and is not an accurate portrayal of real-life people, dead or alive. any resemblance to actual persons, dead or alive, is purely coincidental due to the author's creative writing.

October, 1986. 

You had spent most of your day sitting on the couch, reading, when your mother called out to you from the kitchen. 

“Y/N, come help me with this.” She had been cooking for hours already, knowing full well she was only calling you in to keep her company, considering your cooking skills were less than sub-par. 

You struggle out of your hole in the couch, lazily making your way down the hall and into the bright lights of the kitchen. 

“Peel these for me.” She hands you a bowl of carrots and a peeler. Your mom was making enchiladas tonight… but you didn’t question her attempt at holding you hostage with a silly task. 

“How’s work been going?” She presses.

“It’s good, it’s fine. Y’know. The typical stuff.” You tried to dismiss her questioning so you could continue dissociating from your work life while in the comfort of your family home. 

“Are things getting busier with the holidays coming up? Anything exciting happening?” She was desperate for conversation, so you took the bait. 

“Yeah it’s definitely busier. We have a lot of clients coming in for early holiday gifts, so I’ve been doing well on my commission.” You had been working at the flagship Gucci location off Rodeo since you graduated college. You still aren’t sure how you secured such a cushy position, but you were suspicious your dad had something to do with it. 

You did enjoy your job. It was cool, paid well, and it was fun getting to help Hollywood’s elite find the perfect piece to flaunt their wealth. You made connections, and got invited to cool parties in exchange. But, it was still work. 

“Good. Do any cute guys come in, ever?” You knew where her questioning was going now. 

“Sometimes.” You say with a dismissive giggle. 

“You should start slipping your number in with their receipts!” She half-jokingly urges. 

“Mother! The ‘cute men’ who come in are shopping for their wives.” 

“Oh whatever. You could make something happen.” 

You roll your eyes, ready to end the conversation. 

“You’re not getting any younger! And I want grandbabies!” 

“Oh quit!” You swat at her jokingly. You knew she was right. But you had never had the kind of flirty personality you apparently needed to secure a husband. You would occasionally have a crush, a slight entertainment of a man’s advances, and even a few formal dates. But none of it ever went anywhere, and you never knew why. 

You had begun to think something was fundamentally wrong with you. You knew you were fairly attractive, had a nice enough figure, and had a great personality. Evidenced by the hoards of friends you had calling to make plans on a weekly basis. But you’d never had a serious, head-over-heels in love, introducing each other to your families, kind of relationship. 

You weren’t panicking quite yet, you were only twenty four after all. You shrugged off your mother’s interrogation and continued peeling the carrots you knew were definitely not involved in tonight’s dinner. 

“I’m making extra for your father and whoever he’s got with him at the studio tonight. Maybe you can bring it over to him after we eat. Maybe you’ll even bump into someone remotely attractive who’s ready to take a wife.” She pinched jokingly at your ribs. 

You giggled. Her attempts at a set-up were so mom-coded and innocent it felt endearing that she tried. You agreed that you would, knowing full-well the only other men that would be enjoying her enchiladas were half-bald, middle aged, practically carbon copies of your father. 

Your dad, Bruce, had worked in the entertainment industry for years, but so did everyone’s dad in LA. It felt fairly normal. You would occasionally get to meet his fellow colleagues, or go to fancy parties and get all dolled up. When you took a second to really think about it, it would hit you that you were very lucky, and that his job, as reluctant as you were to admit it, was very cool. 

He had been working on a ‘top secret’ project for almost two years. He would tease you that he was working with Madonna, Prince, or Whitney Houston when you prodded him for information. After your face would light up with excitement, he would chuckle and say “you’ll find out soon enough.” 

Maybe tonight you would find out. 

You finished up dinner, just you and your mom sitting at the end of the long dining room table. You stood, gathering your plates and started on the dishes. You were a grown woman, still living with your parents, so you picked up slack wherever you could. As long as it didn’t require cooking. 

Your mother, at the island behind you, packed the extras into tupperware she could care less about getting returned. 

“You’d better go put your face on. Never know who you may see over there!” She really wanted those grandbabies, and wasn’t shy about pimping out her daughter to get them. 

“Okay, okay!” You made your way up the staircase that wrapped around the foyer, to the bedroom you’ve lived in since you were twelve. They had been major upgrades, but your childhood bedroom nonetheless. 

You threw on a simple, short, fitted, black cotton dress with little cap sleeves. You paired it with white crew socks (the ones with a little frill) and your favorite black Gucci loafers, courtesy of your “Consultant of the Year, 1984” award. You dotted concealer under your eyes, over the dark bags threatening to expose your lack of sleep. Brushed your hair, swiped mascara over your lashes, and pinched your cheeks to give them their signature rosy glow. The quickest routine you could get away with for your mother’s once-over before letting you leave the house.

You flew back down the stairs, eager to get the errand over with. You knew you’d walk in, set the tupperware down on the coffee table behind the row of men sitting at the mixing table, exchange pleasantries, and leave. 

Your mother does her once-over at the kitchen counter, inspecting you with her ‘baby-making potential’ lens. 

“That dress fits you just right, but it’s a bit juvenile, don’tcha think?” 

“Mother, please. I don’t need to impress dad or any of the other old farts he’s with.” 

“Well it’s a good thing you’ve got that face. That thing’s a heartbreaker.” 

Another eye-roll. You cherished your mother’s praise, but sometimes it was a bit much. 

She handed you a piece of paper with the address. 

“They’re expecting you, so just pull right in.” 

You swiped the tupperware and the keys to your ivory 1984 Mercedes Benz, a graduation gift from your parents, and pounced out the back door off the kitchen. 

On the drive over, you let yourself daydream about who could be at the studio tonight. What was  this address? You noted the street name – “Hayvenhurst”. It sounded familiar, but you couldn’t quite place it. You were almost certain you’d never been, but maybe you just hadn’t paid attention. 

As you turned the corner and coasted down the residential street, you began to doubt your map-reading abilities. Surely a recording studio isn’t plopped down in the middle of this neighborhood, right? The homes were extravagant, and you were in LA, so anything’s possible. 

You slowed to check the street number on the big, cast iron gate before turning in. “4641” you murmured to yourself. You pulled in, up alongside a large man in all black with ‘security’ embroidered on his right shoulder, and roll down your window. 

“Hi Miss Y/N, go ahead and pull in.” Your mother must have given them a briefing on the phone when she let them know I was on my way over. Pssh. 

“My daughter! Y/N! She’s young, fun, and needs a husband!!” You imagine her shouting it from the rooftops. 

The man in all black jabs a few buttons on the receiver next to the gate, and it swings open. You slowly pull forward, and see another man in all black, guiding you to the right to park. You definitely had not been here before. 

You yank the keys from the ignition and run your hands through your hair once more, now actually a bit nervous, considering you have no idea what to expect. Where was I? 

The second man in all black approaches you with a smile. 

“Hi, Miss Y/N!” Great. Someone else my mother must have briefed. 

“They’re just over here, I’ll walk you over” You scoop up the tupperware and shut the Benz door behind you. 

The man in black starts towards a small wooden door, tucked away in between sky-high towers of the Tudor mansion. 

“Whatcha got there?” He asks as he continues his casual stroll, whipping just his head around to make eye contact with the tupperware you’re clutching. 

You continue to follow him. “Oh.. just enchiladas!” You say with a girlish giggle. 

“Sounds delicious!” He reaches for the door handle. 

“Here you are, sweetheart. Stay as long as you’d like.” He tossed me a wink as he held the door open for me to enter. 

As the door swings open, the dark studio is exposed as the gentle Cali sunset beams in. Your eyes take a moment to adjust. 

“Y/N! Hi darling!” Your father’s voice is instantly recognizable. His hearty, loud, speaking tone is three volumes louder than everyone else’s. Probably where your wild screeches come from. 

“Whatcha bring us, we’re starved!” He claps his hands together. His signature move before digging in. 

You set the tupperware on the coffee table, behind the men bellied up to the mixing board. Just as you had expected. They swiveled in their chairs to face you, drawn to the ethnic aroma now filling the small, dark studio. 

“Mom’s special. Enchiladas.” You smile up at your father, knowing he’ll be pleased. He beams. 

“Alright, let’s take a quick break.” 

For the 30 seconds you’ve been standing there, you hadn’t yet clocked who was in the booth. You glance up, the blinds are shut. Huh. Maybe whoever’s recording here already wrapped up for the day? It was dinner time after all. 

Just as the thought appears and disappears, your father reaches back around to the board, presses down on some button, and says “Michael, dinner’s here, if you’d like to eat!” 

Michael? Surely not. No way. 

You immediately felt your cheeks get red hot, your legs a bit wobbly. Michael… as in.. Jackson?

[pawsomelea51]

𝐻𝑜𝓌 𝒸𝒶𝓃 𝒽𝒶𝓃𝒹𝓈 𝓁𝑜𝑜𝓀 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝑔𝑜𝑜𝒹😩

[obsessedfemale]

Lazy Days & Nights // Part Two

Read First // Part One

synopsis: You and Michael continue your lazy day at home; Michael can't seem to keep his hands off of you. Still working on my smut skills but having fun! Enjoy xx tags: bad era!michael, female!reader genre(s): romance, established relationship cw: sexual themes, smut (MDNI) / 18+, teasing, soft dom, unprotected shower sex, drinking, fluff, cursing, slightly proofread. word count: 2k disclaimer: this story is a work of fiction. every element of this work is used in a fictitious manner, including all names, characters, places, and events, and is not an accurate portrayal of real-life people, dead or alive. any resemblance to actual persons, dead or alive, is purely coincidental due to the author's creative writing.

By the time you and Michael had made your way back to the house, lunch had been prepared and waiting for you. You made your way to the back patio and were served lunch, along with more wine. 

“You better slow down missy” Michael teased, playfully poking at your ribs. 

“I’m not the one who ordered wine with lunch, I believe you were the one who set this up, Mister.” You poke Michael’s leg with your toes, your legs draped over his thigh as you sat next to one another. His hand on your knees. “Besides, you’d better slow down, you’re the lightweight here.” 

Michael giggled as he took a swig. More teasing. You secretly loved when Michael would get a little buzzed. With his inhibitions low, he was able to fully relax and just enjoy the moment, which had become more and more rare these days. 

You spent the majority of lunch gently petting one another, occasionally picking at the extravagant spread in front of you. His hands rubbed your thighs that draped over his; you ran your fingers through his curls and down his neck; you shared light pecks every time you locked eyes. It was the perfect afternoon just enjoying one another's company. 

“I’m gonna go hop in the shower. I need it after you insisted on having me in the middle of a field.” Another tease. Michael’s head whipped up. “Hey! You liked it” he grinned and bit his lip. You giggle as you make your way up the stairs. 

You kicked off your flats and dropped your dress as the water warmed. You knew this mornings’ entanglement would likely not be the last of the day, so you spared washing your honey blonde hair and tied it up instead. You had just planned on a quick rinse, that is, until you had company. 

Michael had slipped into the bathroom while your back had been turned away from the door. 

“You need help in there?” You nearly jumped out of your skin, you hadn’t heard him come in. He laughed as he unbuttoned his jeans and ripped his t-shirt off. 

“God! You scared me! Don’t do that!” 

“Oh please. You knew I’d be right behind ya…you were practically begging me to join you. With those eyes…”

You playfully scoffed as he stepped in. He towered over you, he had that wanting gaze in his eyes again. His hands rested on your shoulders. He could rarely resist you in the shower. Your figure wet and covered in soapy streaks generally made Michael lose all control. It was the perfect moment to make him beg. That is, if you could resist yourself. 

He stood behind you, and you could instantly feel his length on your back, throbbing hard already. You would have thought the wine would have infringed on his ability to get this hard, but your slick body was apparently more intoxicating than the bottle you finished at lunch. 

“Well, perfect timing, I was just about finished so it’s all yours!” You grinned as you reached for the door handle, hoping he’d beg you to stay in there with him. 

“Un-un. Come here Missy.” He grabbed you by your waist, the length of his arm wrapping all the way around your abdomen. He pulled you back in and tight against his chest, his erection pressed into your back again. “You need me to help you… get all those… hard to reach places.” 

His mouth was on your neck, giving you tender love bites. His hands slipped up your hips, then your stomach, landing on your tits. He began to massage your nipples gently. You knew you had to break free before you broke down. 

“Fine. You can help me rinse off. But that’s it!” You spun around to face him and grabbed the loofah from the hook behind him. You handed it to him with a smile. “Get to work.” 

He smiled suspiciously, never breaking eye contact as he doused the loofah in soap and began rubbing it over your body. He started at your shoulders, slowly making his way up and down each of your arms. Then your decolatage, rubbing in slow circles just above your tits. 

As he made his way to your chest, his eyes broke from yours and became locked on your tits. He swiped the loofah around each, even slower than before, now using both hands. You could feel his cock twitching on your stomach, he was practically drooling. 

“I think they’re clean baby...” You smiled, reaching up and encouraging his hands to move on. 

“Sorry, you know I just love your boobs. They’re perfect.” He began to swipe the loofah down your stomach, his other hand bracing at the small of your back. 

“Thank you baby.” You left a small peck on his chest. Not quite an invitation, but would likely keep him hard. 

Michael slid the loofah down your front and in between your legs. His pressure was gentle, innocent almost. You looked up at him to try and catch him before he went too far. Instead, he pressed his lips to yours as he dropped the loofah. He guided you by your hips until your back pressed up against the shower tile. His long fingers slipped into your crease. 

“Michael, baby…” Your breath hitched as you tried to pull away. He continued rubbing circles around your clit, his other hand gripping the back of your neck, pulling you into him. 

“C’mon baby, I know you wanna..” his tongue slipped into your ear before he could finish his sentence. 

A breathy moan escaped your lips. “No, really, Michael, I just needed to shower.” You grabbed his wrist, pulling his hand from your neck. Your eyes shot up at him with a pout, you knew you were torturing him at this point. 

Michael brought both his arms up and above you, palms resting on the slick tile. He towered over you, his glare serious but desperate. 

“I don’t believe you.” He was stern, almost angry. 

“Well, believe it.” you crossed your arms, sassy, knowing it would drive him crazy.

He glanced down at your tits bursting out from above your crossed arms, his cock twitching up against your stomach, his bottom lip tucked under his teeth. His breathing was heavy, and you could practically see his pulse jumping out of the side of his throat. 

“You’re gonna do this to me, leave me like this all by myself?” This time, he was trying his best to pout, flashing those big, puppy dog eyes. 

“You’re a big boy…I’m sure you can handle it.” You say as you look down at his throbbing erection. You had to bite your lip to keep from drooling. His cock was so big and so pretty it gave you that flitter in your core. 

He grunted as he head fell, desperate for you to give in again. You stood your ground this time. 

His tone softened. “What is it baby? You want me to beg? Is that what you want?”

“Yes…actually…” You dropped your arms, letting your index fingers graze the tops of his thighs. 

He inhaled sharply. “Fuck. Baby. You know I want you, okay?” 

You wrapped your fingers around his girth, squeezing gently. His eyes shut hard as his body flinched into yours. 

“Tell me you need me, Michael. I have to hear you say it.” 

“I need you. God I need you.” His head fell back as he begged. 

At his confession, you couldn’t help but drop to your knees and take him into your mouth. You swirled your tongue around his tip, already dripping in precum. He was salty and sweet and so hard. 

“Fuck, baby. Thank you. I needed you.” He was practically gasping. You looked up at him from below his hard cock with a widening smile and those big, pouty eyes. 

“God I love it when you beg.” You were obsessed with his moans of desperation. His body jerked into your mouth as you took more and more of him and he held the back of your head. His lack of control made your clit swell and pulse and your legs felt like jello.

You slipped your fingers into your slit, comforting your wet pussy. The pleasure ripping through your body only made you more eager to please Michael, to see him squirm and writhe with his dick in your mouth. 

You twisted your hand at his base, bobbing your head until he popped out of your mouth. 

“Mmm, you taste good baby.” You gave him your best ‘fuck-me’ eyes as you looked up at him. He shuddered as you lightly brushed your tongue against his tip. 

“God, baby. I need you. I need more of you.” He reached for your chin, pulling your face back up to his. 

“Let me have you, please, baby. I need you.” His words falling out of his throat, raspy and deep. 

You pressed your mouth onto his. He eagerly wrapped his hand around your cheek, pulling your chin down and slipping his warm tongue against yours. 

He reached down and hooked his hand around the back of your knee, pulling your thigh around his hip. 

“Please, baby, can I fuck you? Please, baby. I need it.” His brows furrowed, needy. 

You nodded into his kiss, wrapping your arms around his waist to steady yourself. 

He gripped his cock and slipped it into your pussy, quickly, leaving you gasping as he forcefully entered you. 

“Fuck, baby, gentle!” It’s like he couldn’t hear you at all anymore. His thrusts were hungry, quick, frantic. He pressed his mouth to your ear so you could hear all the pleasure you were giving him. 

With each thrash your own moans became more and more breathless. His tip was hitting that tender spot, you were close. Your nails dug into his back. 

“God, baby, I love you. And I love your pussy, thank you baby.” You knew Michael was close when he talked like that. His voice was deep, pleading.

“Can I cum inside you, baby? Please?” You nodded, pulling his hips deeper into yours. His pelvis was hitting your clit just right, his frantic thrusts were about to send you over the edge. 

You simultaneously cum; you throw your arms around his neck to steady yourself. Michael’s hand gripped your back, the other bracing against the shower tile as you shuddered into one another. You could feel his heavy breath on your neck, sending a chill across your body as you came down. 

You held each other until you caught your breath, Michael still inside you, his cock twitching ever so slightly. Your body rocked with aftershocks as Michael slid out, making your sensitive clit tingle. 

As Michael lifted his head from the crook of your neck, he left delicate kisses along your throat, up to your ear, and onto your cheek. 

“That was so dirty I need another shower.” You grinned as Michael pulled you in for a slow, passionate kiss. You could tell he felt so connected, so in love in that moment. He grabbed your jaw until you were looking right at him. 

“I love you. You know that, right?” 

“Of course, Michael, I love you too.” 

“Good.” He leaned in for another long kiss. 

He stepped out of the shower first, retrieving your robes. He draped yours over your shoulders as you stepped out. You turned around to him, threw your arms over his shoulders and kissed him again. You were in a state of euphoria, and you didn’t want it to end. 

Michael picked you up, walked you into the bedroom, and gingerly placed you on the bed. He curled up beside you and you both quickly dozed off, fingers and bodies intertwined.

[obsessedfemale]

Lazy Days & Nights // Part One

synopsis: Michael finally has a day off and you get to spend quality time (wink) with one another at home. Fluffy but also smutty :) Also my first time writing smut! Please be kind, constructive criticisms only. I have ideas for a series here...

tags: bad era!michael, female!reader

genre(s): romance, established relationship

cw: sexual themes, smut (MDNI) / 18+, teasing, light dom, dry humping, semi-public / unprotected sex, drinking, fluff, cursing, slighty proofread.

word count: 2.7k

disclaimer: this story is a work of fiction. every element of this work is used in a fictitious manner, including all names, characters, places, and events, and is not an accurate portrayal of real-life people, dead or alive. any resemblance to actual persons, dead or alive, is purely coincidental due to the author's creative writing.

You and Michael had spent his day off hanging around the house, starting off with a slow, lazy wakeup that ended in soft cuddles & kisses. 

You had decided that you would spend the day at home to get that quality time you so desperately needed. You had missed his soft touch, his breathy sweet nothings he’d whisper in your ear as he passed behind you throughout the house. 

“I love you. I love being here with you. I can’t wait to taste you.” He’d say, slipping a hand along your lower back, teasing you just enough to send a shiver over your body, making you eager and impatient for the next touch. 

After breakfast, you decided to take a leisurely stroll around the lake on your property. You threw on a white cotton baby doll dress with lacy piping and your favorite red ballet flats with the little bow. A perfect easy outfit for a perfect 73 degree day. Michael watched as you dropped the dress over your shoulders with ease, admiring your long, tanned legs. A slight smile crept across his face. You caught him looking. 

“What?” you grinned. Secretly loving the way he was looking at you. 

“I just like looking at you.” He sat on the edge of the bed, one hand outstretched behind him, holding himself up. The other fiddled with his bottom lip. You could see the building tension all over his face. 

You giggle. “You ready?” 

You head downstairs and out the front door. Michael swopped up a quilt and basket as you stepped out, something you barely noticed and didn’t realize he had prepared. 

You made your way around the lake slowly, taking in the easy breeze and the smell of fresh spring. Your fingers intertwined, swinging between your bodies. You grabbed his arm with your free hand, pulling him closer and looking up at him, completely in love and totally at peace. 

You came to a big, beautiful Oak tree, the most majestic one on the property. Its canopy had just filled out that week after all the rain. Its shade covered the ground beneath it. 

“Your favorite tree. Wanna sit?” Michael knew that this tree, home to many fond memories of the two of you, would elicit nothing but gratitude from you. 

“Of course.” you said sweetly, leaning into him. 

He spread the quilt out and laid down, his bent arm propping him up. He motioned you to join him. You crawled next to him, tossing your arm over his waist. You sat and took in the view for a while, periodically exchanging charged grins. Michael caressed your face, brushing his thumb along your cheek, kissing your forehead so gently you could have thought it was the breeze. Eventually, Michael leaned over and opened the basket he had discreetly packed. He pulled out two glasses and a bottle of wine. 

“Are you trying to loosen me up?” you teased him playfully. 

“What! No! I just thought it would be nice.” He knew you were teasing, but he smiled and played along, laughing as he popped the bottle and poured you a glass. 

“It’s not like you would need to, anyways. I feel tipsy just looking at you.” You wanted to play with him a bit more, curious to see how much he could take before he cracked and took you right there. He giggled, bit his lip, and met your gaze as you looked up at him. He was burning, you could feel it. Teasing was a big part of your relationship. It built up and around you both until you couldn’t physically control yourselves any longer, and your joint release became that much more powerful. 

You were one to enjoy an afternoon glass of white wine on a beautiful spring day, but Michael rarely indulged. This time, he did. Tipsy Michael was fun, too. He would giggle endlessly, and he couldn’t manage to keep his hands off of you. You knew you were in for a fun afternoon. 

Halfway into your second glass, you found yourselves playfully bickering over what you would have for dinner that night, and what movie you’d watch as you fell asleep. 

“If you’re picking dinner, then I get to pick the movie!” 

“No, no, no! You gotta let your husband show you what’s good for you!” he laughed. Michael always, always wanted chicken for dinner, and to watch Gilda. You had requested steak, and suggested Love in the Afternoon. One of your favorites, and on theme for the day. 

At this point, you were laid between Michael’s legs, your back resting on his chest, his arms behind him propping you both up. His face burrowed into your neck. He whispered into your ear “Let me take care of you. Like you deserve."

Already tipsy, this worked and you caved. “Fine, we’ll do it your way.” He knew he had you right where he wanted you, and you knew you were about to be putty in his hands. 

In an effort to regain a shred of dominance, you finished your glass, spun around to face Michael, and planted a knee on either side of his hips. He laid back without hesitation, unaware of the games you were about to play with him. 

You sat your hips onto his and instantly felt a charge rip through your own body. You felt it in him too, as his bulge rose to meet your now throbbing core. 

You slowly slid your palms up and down his chest. His head cocked up to watch where your bodies met as you slowly rocked back and forth. His mouth slighted parted as his hands slid up your thighs. You knew you were playing with fire, but you were having too much fun. 

You hunched over, bringing your face to meet his. You smiled when he let out a heavy sigh, his chest rising and falling hard. His lips quivered, preparing for yours. Instead, you smiled, brought your mouth to his ear, nibbled gently before whispering “Do you like when I’m on top of you like this?” You pulled up to catch his eyes. He nodded desperately, mouth parted, waiting for your lips on his. His hips rocked up to meet your center, and you felt his pressure against your red lacy, now soaked, panties. 

As badly as you wanted it too, you wanted nothing more than to tease him endlessly. You loved the desperate look in his eye when he was about to lose control. Like he was lovesick, just for you. 

You knew you had him hooked, so you swiftly pulled yourself off of him and laid beside him, a mischievous grin ripped across your face. 

His eyes widened as he looked over at you, his hands still hovering where your thighs had just rested. You smiled and bit your lip, he shifted to his side, his face now hovering over yours. 

“You love doing that to me, don’t you?!” You giggle up at him. 

“Well you’re not getting away with it this time.” In one swift motion, he lunged over you, slipped his legs under yours, forcing them apart with his hands, and squared himself up to your core. 

You gasped as his face met yours and you felt his throbbing cock thrust up against your wetness. Michael grabbed your face, thumb hooked around your chin. 

“I know you want it just as badly as I do.” He grinned. “That’s why you’re so wet for me, right baby?” He slipped his hand between your bodies and then between your legs, just his middle finger tracing the outline of the wetness on your panties. 

You inhaled sharply. The tender touch made you involuntarily jerk into him. You let out a small whimper. He pressed into your clit with his two middle fingers, holding pressure until you squealed quietly and your back arched into him. 

“Yeah, I know you do. You shouldn’t play games you know you can’t win.” His breath was hot on your neck. His tongue slipped around your lobe, biting tenderly. He continued to massage your center that was getting wetter by the second. 

You tried to resist, but you knew you were about to fold. The weight of his body on yours, his big hand now wrapped heavy around your neck and his fingers still dancing along your soaked panties. Your eyes shut hard and head cocked back, trying to hold your pleasure in. 

“Look at me, baby.” He grabbed your face again, pulling your chin back down to its normal position. “Do you want to cum for me baby? Or do you want to play games?” His tone was tender, but demanding. Your body began to flood with heat. You did want to cum for him, but not now. You wanted to play with him more; make him beg for you like you were begging for him. 

You raised your hand to his wrist and grabbed onto him tight. Your eyes fluttered open, catching his directly. 

“I want to play games.” A devilish pout plastered across your face.

Michael rocked back on his knees, slid his hands up your spread thighs, and clenched his jaw, exhaling deeply. His glare was dark and wanting, exactly what you were looking for. 

He lifted the hem of your dress and tilted his head, peaking at the soaked red lace still between your legs. He palmed himself over his jeans, inhaling sharply, comforting his still hard cock. 

“That’s too bad. I wanted to make you feel really, really good.” His tone was serious, taunting. His glare sunk into you, your heart beating out of your chest at his confession. 

You took a moment to really take him in as he looked down at you. He was so good to you, and so, so handsome. He had put on your favorite blue flannel, with a white tee poking out underneath. His delicious curls trellised down his face. And those gorgeous lips that he carefully licked before biting down on the bottom one. 

You bit down on your index as you debated your next move. Make him beg, or give in? 

You exchanged a charged look as his palm slid down your thigh, his other still on his crotch. You couldn’t wait any longer. You were weak for him. 

You exhaled, defeated. “C’mere." You reached up and fisted his shirt, pulling him down on top of you. He met your open mouth with his, the kiss was immediately rough, fast, eager. His hands gripped your face, controlling your movements. His warm tongue slipped into your mouth, your moans vibrated into one another. You had both finally given in. 

He reached down and dug his fingers into your thigh, pulling you closer forcefully, like he was starved for your touch. You instinctively began grinding your hips into his bulge, craving the pressure on your pulsing clit. Your hands drifted down his back and clawed his shirt from his waistband. 

“God, you’re so wet for me. You gonna be a good girl and take my big dick?” You nodded feverishly. 

“Say it. Tell me how bad you need me.”

“I need you. God, Michael I need you. Please.” You begged. 

Michael quickly perched up, reached down, ripped your lacy thong from your hips and tossed it aside. 

“So wet. So pretty.” He mumbled to himself, his eyes locked on your dripping pussy. He leaned back down in your ear, his fingers slipping back into your pussy. “Right? You’re so wet just for me, right baby?”

“Uh-un” was all you could muster. 

“Say it, baby. Tell me how wet you get for me.” 

“You make me so wet baby.” You manage through whimpers. 

“I wanna make you feel s’good.” In between sucking at the skin on your neck, and his long veiny fingers rubbing your clit, you were beside yourself with pleasure. 

Your legs quivered with anticipation. He reached down, unbuttoned his black jeans, and pushed his waistband down, just enough to release his throbbing cock. It sprung up and rested perfectly in your soaking folds. 

He took his tip to your clit, massaging it into you with enough pressure to make you shake. 

“This feel good, baby?” 

“Mm-hmm.” 

You grabbed his hand from your thigh and pulled him back down to you until your chests met. His other hand still gripping his dick, drawing circles around your clit. 

“You ready, baby?”

“Yes, baby, please. I need you inside me.” 

Michael slid his cock down your center until he found your entrance and grabbed your jaw. 

“Look at me baby.” You locked eyes just as he slid himself  in. You gasp into one another as he fills you completely. 

He was so big it took your breath away every time he fully sunk into you. “God, you feel so good, baby. You okay?”

“Uh-un..fuck you’re so big..you feel so good inside me.” 

He pressed a kiss to your open mouth aggressively, and began to thrust in and out. 

The pleasure was consuming. Your legs were weak, goosebumps riddled your skin. Your teasing had paid off. 

Michael wrapped his arm around your head, cradling your face with his massive hand. His other, rubbing your clit as he rocked into you, harder and more aggressive with each stroke. 

“I love you baby.” he grunted into your ear. 

The pleasure overtook you, you were rendered speechless. Your mouth was agape, moaning and writhing. 

“I need to hear you say it baby, tell me you love me.” 

“I love you Michael, baby. I love you” Your moans were desperate, unhitched. You felt your peak approaching, your pussy clenching around his girth. 

“Cum for me, baby. I want to watch you cum. I want to make you feel really good, baby.” His words prickled the skin on your neck, his gentle sucking intensifying as you tremored beneath him. 

You began to convulse in pure ecstasy. Michael cradled your face with both hands now, holding you tightly through your release. He pressed his lips firmly against yours, your moans still escaping your closed lips. 

“That’s it, that’s my good girl. I love when you cum on my cock.” 

His pace had slowed, his focus on comforting you through your high. As you came to, your eyes found his, and a tear of bliss slid down the side of your face and into your hairline. 

“I love watching you cum, baby. I love you.” Michael’s pace picked back up, and you could tell he was close. Your lips latched onto his neck, giving him the same treatment he had just given you. 

“Cum for me, baby. I want you to cum inside me.” You whispered gently into his ear, licking the tender bit just underneath. 

His movements became quicker, more eager, you knew he was on the edge. 

“I love you, Michael.” Hearing you say his name sent him over the edge, jerking into you as he filled you. His head fell into your shoulder, letting out soft whimpers as he slowly became limp. 

You both stayed there for a while you recovered, the only movement came from your heaving chests and your hands softly grazing his back in comfort. Your heads nestled into one another's necks. 

Michael propped himself up above you, making deep eye contact as he pulled himself out of you. 

He grinned. “Thank you for being my good girl.” He bit his lip. 

“Thanks for making me cum.” A flirty grin plastered across your face. 

“Anytime, baby. As long as you beg.” He leaned back in for another kiss. A soft, sweet, almost innocent kiss. Like you didn’t just convulse into one another like animals. 

Michael sat up, reached into the picnic basket once again, pulling out a hand towel and began to clean up the mess between your legs. Your jaw dropped at the sight. 

“You planned for this?!” You teased him, lightly swatting at his arm. 

“Oh please, I knew from the second you put that dress on you wanted me.” He giggled. 

He was so delicate and took such care to return you to an acceptable state. It made you swoon all over again. 

Michael climbed over you, locating your red lacy thong. “We can’t lose these ones.” He grinned as he slid them back on you gently. 

You made your way back towards the house, hands intertwined, both silently blissed out. The only communication between you were the big, wide smiles you’d crack as you locked eyes. 

“See what happens when you let your husband take care of you.” 

To be continued…

PART TWO HERE!

[cloudsofbooksandpages]

Michael Jackson Fanfic • Bad Era • 1988

Mature Fic • {18+} • part seven

[part one • all other parts linked in previous posts]

Context: Michael is back on tour, and life is returning to… “normal” on the surface. Underneath all that though is the undeniable feeling that whatever is between you two is just starting, and it is going to be a far from smooth ride…

6:37 • Orange County, California • Early December

I pull into my street, radio playing softly. I slide up to the curb, ready to get out and manually open the gate when I realise it's already open. I sigh and drive inside, wondering if I should be concerned when I see a parcel on the doorstop.

Of course it was the mail man. He never closes it behind him.

I park and get out, walking up to the front door to inspect this delivery. It has my name on it, and immediately I assume it's probably from my parents as I pick it up and let myself inside. Buttons barks in delight, jumping around my feet as I greet her and head into the kitchen area to put down my keys and get this parcel open.

I cut the tape with a knife and peer inside, immediately confused with the wrapped contents. But there is a postcard.

From New York.

My heart jumps. I snatch it up and turn it over, pressing a hand on my chest as I read the note.

Happy early Christmas. I miss you. Call me? M x

I exhale, suddenly feeling all lightheaded and overexcited. Christmas was still a good two weeks away, but it almost made me laugh, out loud, since I'd already gotten Michael a gift, too. Though I had no idea where to send it, so I was just going to hold onto it until I saw him next.

I unwrap his gift, barely able to hold in my excitement. I was grinning from ear to ear until I actually saw what he got me. "No," I say out loud, pulling out the box for a cell phone. An actual cell phone.

Not even my father had one of these because the price was so insane.

I'm completely speechless as I pull out the device, heavy in my hands, practically the size of my face, but completely wireless. I'm flustered and giddy, unable to control the giggles that tumble out of me as I turn the thing on. After reading the instructions, of course. On the note Michael had given me, he'd given me a specific number to call.

I fanned my face, then took it all upstairs so I could charge it for a while. He was probably busy right now, so I'd give him a call later.

After dinner, and well into the evening, and as my bubble bath filled, I called him. I was a little nervous, and it felt so strange not having a chord to twist around my finger. When the call finally went through, my bath was ready.

"Hello?" he asks in his normal speaking voice as I sink into the bubbles. "Lily?"

"Hi, oh my god!" I giggle, he laughs at my enthusiasm immediately, "You got me a Christmas present!"

"Do you like it?"

"I'm-- I don't even know what to say, thank you so much!"

"That's okay," he chuckles. The line crackles as he says something else, but I don't pick it up. "What are you doing?"

"I'm in a bath..." I say softly, "a bubble bath." I tuck a curl behind my ear and play with the water with my toes.

"I wish I could see."

I sigh as my stomach tenses. I miss him a lot. More than I thought I would, and that's saying something considering what I expected to feel was pretty intense.

"How is tour?"

"Fine," he replies quietly. The line crackles again. "Busy. I have some time off coming up, for the holidays."

"Yeah?" I squeak, sitting up in the bath. Water splashes over the side. "When?"

"In--" the line drops.

"Michael?" I ask, waiting, "When?" But everything is quiet. I scoff, looking at the phone and pressing the numbers again to redial, but there is no ringing tone this time. It's out of battery.

The manual had said ten hours charge, but I guess I hadn't taken that as literal. We'd barely spoken for five minutes. I huff, lying back in the bath when I hear the phone ringing from downstairs. I leap out the bath, grab a robe, and almost slip as I hurry from the bathroom all the way downstairs to the phone by the kitchen. "Hello?"

"I'm gonna get you another phone, that's ridiculous. Did you charge it?"

I laugh, "Yes! For like four hours!"

He mutters something, the receiver on his end rustles. "I can get a landline put in your room, would that be better?"

"You don't have to do that."

"I want to. I miss talking to you."

We'd been speaking most days since he left for the Northern American part of his tour. Though it had only really been ten days since we'd last seen each other. Which is odd to think of, since it feels like a lifetime since. Like it had been months.

"I miss talking to you too," I reply, twisting the chord around my finger as I lean my weight on one hip. "I do really appreciate the gift though, it was very thoughtful."

He chuckles softly, the sound sweet and bashful.

"I have one for you too, but I'd like to give it to you in person," I say.

"I have time off starting end of next week. I can come down."

My heart lifts, stomach erupting into butterflies. "You want to stay with me? My parents will be back for a bit, to celebrate the season with me."

There's a pause. Perhaps it was silly to suggest it... meeting my parents. As if he was my boyfriend, which is something we'd never discussed.

"Well, I was thinking we could... spend the holidays somewhere else."

"Okay," I say lightly, as if it really matters. I'd do whatever he wanted.

"Do you like Disneyland? Have you been?"

I gasp so loudly he asks if everything is okay.

"I'd love to go!" I squeal, "I've been begging people to come with me for months and no one will! I haven't been yet, and it's literally just up the road. How crazy is that?"

Michael sounds overjoyed at my enthusiasm. When we end the call an hour later, my bath is cold. So I do something I'd never do if my parents were home, and rerun it.

I settle into bed that night feeling light, and excited. Already planning what I'd take with me when we spend the holidays at Disneyland...

A few days later at work, I stand behind the counter, busying myself in a quiet period by flicking through a fashion magazine. I chew gum, distracted, until the door to the boutique chimes. I glance up, seeing a woman with a silk scarf wrapped around her dark fluffed curls, guided in by, undoubtably, a security team. All with dark glasses and suits on.

I stand up straighter. It's not unusual to have celebrities shop around this area, the location of my mother's boutique was chosen for that reason, but I had yet to serve one.

Music plays quietly from the speakers as I swallow, nerves bubbling. I flex my fingers as the woman browses, looking through the colourful garments. My mother's style was very Italian, and she imported directly from that country.

The woman walks slowly along the back rack of clothes before finally picking some things out. She hands it to one of her bodyguards to bring over, then follows. When she slides off her large sunglasses, I recognise her immediately.

It's Diana Ross.

My heart plummets into my stomach, then pulses erratically. I already know my face has gone red when she smiles. "Good afternoon," I greet, swallowing, "Is there anything else I could help you with?" I ask as the clothes are placed on the counter. Was I meant to acknowledge that I knew who she was, or say nothing at all?

"That's it," she says carefully, looking me over as I ring her up, folding the clothes and slipping them into a bag. She says nothing until I tell her the total. "You're... Lily, right?" she asks. I pause for a long moment, looking into her eyes, unsure of what to say. How did she...? "Michael has told me all about you."

Oh.

Their phone calls.

I don't know what to say, and can't even think of some silly throw away comment, either. I'm not sure what exactly I pictured Diana Ross to look like in the flesh but for some reason I didn't expect to see a woman my mother's age. Give or take a few years.

"Do you own this store? You look quite young."

"It's my mother's." I say, heart thudding against my ribs. What does she want? Why did she come here?

She offers a credit card to pay for the clothes she picked out. I take it gingerly, swiping it. Diana hums, still observing me closely. Even as I break eye contact and awkwardly look outside, wondering if anyone is going to see her in here, talking to me.

"Woman to woman," she then says softly as I hand her back her credit card. "Be careful, hm?"

"With what?" I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.

"He told me you were a fan," she says, tilting her head, and smiling at me. She reaches out and touches my hand. "Michael enjoys being worshipped."

Blood drains from my face, and before I can even think of a response, she's saying goodbye, complimenting the store, and leaving with her purchase. I stand there in silence for a long while, unsure of what to make of that. Of course, she could be genuinely warning me, I know Michael loves his praise, but so do I...

On the other hand, she could be marking her territory. She thinks she made him. Perhaps she feels threatened by me in some way.

A more confident woman might find that complimentary, but the idea of Michael being another woman's territory just makes me feel a little sick. I close up shop early, just by an hour, and head home, deciding to take the evening to watch movies, order pizza, and drink wine.

I don't hear from Michael that evening, and it only worsens my mood. I'm confusing myself, and probably shouldn't take Diana Ross' words to heart, and yet there they are, piercing me.

Michael enjoys being worshipped.

What if... what if that's why he enjoyed this? Why he enjoyed romancing me, because he knew I'd be putty in his hands?

I lie on my bed, headphones on and attached to my record player. I listen to his music, something I used to do a lot before attending his concert. Moving from album to album, then repeat when I was done. When The Lady in My Life comes on, I stare up at my ceiling before closing my eyes, pretending he's singing to me. My nerves soothe a little.

I open my eyes and turn onto my stomach, his music still playing loudly in my ears as I stare at the cell phone he bought me charging across the room on my vanity, his postcard stuck to my mirror.

I'm sure this is exactly what she wanted. To fill me with doubt so I'd cut him off or something. I huff, listening to Michael singing into my ears, those raspy words filling my mind. I grin when my favourite part comes on, the way he purrs "all over, all over, all over," just too satisfying. I grin, biting my lip and suddenly miss him so much I have a physical reaction.

Stomach lifting, body keening.

All those memories of us, wrapped up in each other, kissing, touching... how he'd recently only wanted to finish inside of me.

I flush so hard that I have to sit up and fan my face. "Jesus, Lily," I mumble to myself, sliding off my headphones and heading to take a shower.

I make my mind up about where I want this relationship to go, making internal plans. If anything, Diana's little talk with me had only just solidified what I already wanted. Which was Michael. And even though there was a part of me that did worry that what he wanted me for was worship, I somehow didn't believe that was all this was between us.

I saw the way he looked at me.

When the day finally comes for us to meet again, I've wrapped his gift and have it ready next to my bags by the front door. My parents were due to fly in that evening, with only a week until Christmas Day, but I'd left them a note explaining I was away, spending time with a guy I'd recently been dating. I'd be gone for a long weekend, making it back just time to celebrate with them, and hopefully spend some more time with Michael after.

The bell to the gate chimes and I leap up from waiting on the couch. I say goodbye to Buttons, grab my bags and Michael's gift, and slip out the door. Instead of a low town car, this time there's a long black limousine. Blacked out windows, everything.

A window in the back slides down, and Micheal's there, smiling. "Come on," he beckons me forwards. Then his driver is next to me, taking my bags from me and putting them in the boot. I climb into the limousine and giggle. The ceiling has little glowing stars, and there's a wide plush seating only on one side. "Hey baby," he smiles, and my stomach flutters.

I'm already in his lap by the time the limo peels away from the curb outside my house. Our lips lock together, my arms around his neck, his clutching my hips. The screen between us and the driver slides up, and I giggle against Michael's lips.

"I have something for you," he says against mine. I hear something rustle beside us, and suddenly there's flowers in front of me. Big red roses.

"Oh, Michael," I coo softly, taking them and smelling them. "They're beautiful." He watches me earnestly, big doe eyes focussed on my face, already driving my body crazy as he holds my hips, caressing me gently. "I have your gift, too."

He follows my movements with his eyes, hiding the excitement behind a small smile. I slide the gift over to me where I dropped it on the seats only a few minutes before, more concerned with kissing him than anything else.

"What is it?" he asks, despite already peeling off the red paper, trying to be careful. I smile, but I'm nervous at how he's doing to react, if he'll like it.

He reveals the box and lifts it, turning it over to see what the object is. His grin stretches, eyes sliding up to meet mine, a dark suggestive look glinting there. "What's this for, Lily?" He asks.

"It's a camcorder," I say lightly, blinking at him, face already flushing as I catch his suggestion immediately. "It's for, just... like I thought we could record some memories together." I feel breathless suddenly, "Just for us, though."

He smirks, opening the box and taking the camera out. I already charged it and added a memory card so he wouldn't have to. "I want you on here," he says, voice low as he looks it over.

I'm still in his lap as I ask, "Do you like it?"

"I love it, thank you," he smiles softly at me, "We can get a lot of footage this weekend." His grin is cheeky, and I gently thump his shoulder as he laughs. That really hadn't been my intention... but since he seems pretty set on the idea, I'm glad I bought cute lingerie with me.

I snuggle into him for the short drive to Disneyland. When I said it was just up the road, I meant it literally. We spend half an hour in the car, pouring over each other like love sick teenagers, just kissing and smiling at each other.

The driver takes us to the Disneyland Hotel where we enter from a side door and are shown up to a really nice suite near the top of the building. It's gorgeous, with a lot of plush furniture and a big drape over the wide bed. Not very Disney themed, but kind of close.

Michael dresses down, wearing a plain blue shirt and dark pants, tying his curls back before putting on a new cap he bought and big aviators. The jacket he slings over his shirt is big and bulky, and might hopefully disguise him from any super-fans, like myself, who could pick him out from a crowd sixteen miles away.

I dress in some blue denim dungarees and a white tee, a leather jacket over the top and my hair pulled back with a scrunchie. "You look so cute," Michael comments as we hold hands and head into the elevator, ready to go to the park to hop on some rides and get dinner.

I grin at him, then beam even more as I see the camcorder in his free hand, ready to film. We spend hours in the park. Ride after ride, then even slip into a showing of Captain EO. When we're hungry enough to eat, Michael takes me to Disney's exclusive, invite-only restaurant, Club 33. There's hardly anyone inside, but he keeps on his hat just incase.

On the way out of the park for the night though, someone stops him. I step away immediately as about four fans close in, wanting pictures with their cameras. I wait off to the side, admiring how Michael could just switch on at a moment's notice, using that lighter voice, doing his autographs with no complaints.

He politely excuses himself after about ten minutes as more people start to look. "go go go," he hisses to me, and we're walking out, almost jogging. We're giggling by the time we make it back to the hotel, rushing to disappear into the elevator and back up to our private suite.

I decide not to focus too much on the encounter, still riding the high from the day, from going to Disneyland and just having the best time. I'm grinning to myself as I strip off, turning around to look at Michael, who lounges on the bed, camcorder pointed towards me.

"Oh," I say lightly as my dungarees hang around my hips. I peel off my t-shirt, expose my bra and climb onto the bed. Michael shuts the camera off, but keeps it in his hand as I lean over him, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. "Why'd you turn it off?" I ask gently.

His brows quirk up, "You want to?" He wonders.

"It could be another little gift, for you to take back with you on tour."

He licks his lips, then bites his bottom one slowly. "Oh yeah?"

I hum, kissing him again. He sighs, moving his mouth with mine. When his tongue slides into my mouth, I whine and straddle him properly. He sits up, then tugs my hips closer. I wrap my arms around his neck, deepening our kiss. He groans into my mouth as I rock my hips over his crotch, grinding myself into him.

It had been three weeks. Only three. And yet I don't know how I managed it. Feeling his hands on me, his lips-- it's intoxicating. My body tingles, sex pulsing as we kiss harder and harder, desire completely overwhelming us.

Within moments of Michael breaking the kiss, he has me on my back, and is pulling my dungarees off. I go to push my panties down but he says, a little breathlessly, "wait."

He grabs the camcorder.

"Are you sure you're okay with this?" he asks, pupils blown from how turned on he is. I nod, then reach up to fix my hair, letting it splay around my head and then set my fingers back on the band of my panties. He turns the camera on, then nods, glancing from me to the little screen showing him the video.

I slide down my panties, making eye contact with the camera. Michael hums, a low sound that rumbles out of him, dripping in approval. With that one curl hanging in his eyes, he looks so dangerously handsome that a rush of moisture slips out of me.

I take my bra off next, arching my back and popping the clasp. I toss it away from me, leaving myself exposed to Michael and the camera lens. He hisses as I part my legs, then slide my hands down my stomach. His own hand, the free one, touches my thigh, running his palm down it as he sits between my legs.

I slide my fingers through my damp slit, moaning softly. Michael's transfixed, unable to decide whether to look at me, or the camera screen. "Damn," he mumbles, watching me touch myself. He films my body, then follows my hands as I slide my palms up my stomach then clutch my breasts, pushing them together.

I glance at the bulge in his pants where his cock strains against the fabric. I use my foot to touch him, rubbing gently as he keeps the camera on my breasts. "Your turn," I purr at him. He doesn't film himself, not that I expected him to, as he keeps the camera on me, and undoes his pants with one hand.

I watch greedily, feeling my own arousal leaking out of me just at the sight of him pulling his length out from his trousers, ready for me. I blink slowly, latching my teeth into my bottom lip as he shifts forward, positions himself at my entrance, and films it.

My skin ignites as he enters me. "God, baby," Michael groans, glancing towards me, pupils blow, eyes so heavy lidded. "I missed you," he murmurs, sliding in deeper, as deep as he can go.

"I missed you too," I say, so turned on by the fact he's filming us, filming himself inside me, I can hardly think. He thrusts slowly, teasingly, then tilts the camera up towards my face, I smile at him, unable to stop my pleased moans as pleasure tingles up my spine.

When he speeds up, obscene sounds leak out of my sex, giving away just how wet I am for him.

He leans over me, placing the camera on the bed beside us and kisses me. The camera is angled at us, mostly at our bodies I think, but at this point I don't really care. I wrap my arms around him, angling my hips up so he can get deeper, moaning in delight as he holds my thigh against him.

We forget about the camera after only a few minutes. Michael pounds into me, thrusts strong and deep as he leans up on his forearms and gazes down at me. My whole body is tingling, I'm dizzy with pleasure as I moan freely, perhaps maybe a touch too loudly.

He slides out of me and I sit up, already moving over him as he lies down, welcomes me eagerly back onto his cock. I ride him, rocking my hips back and forth at a steady strong pace, holding his hands that he raised to help steady me.

"Fuck," he groans, watching my body writhe on his, my hair falling about my shoulders and arms. His eyes graze over me, drinking me all in. "I'm close baby," he murmurs as we hold eye contact.

"I want it inside," I say breathlessly. "Cum inside me," I moan for him, taking his hands and pressing his large palms to my breasts. "Please baby," I whine, just as my own orgasm rises from my toes, and I toss my head back, gasping as it suddenly washes over me, flooding my system with ecstasy.

Michael sits up, holding me to him, gripping my hips. "Don't stop," he pleads softly, rocking me back and forth until his head dips against my shoulder and he moans, releasing himself inside of me. His body twitches as he pulses inside, I can almost feel him. We take a few seconds before either of us says anything. Michael nuzzles his face against my breasts, chest heaving as he holds me to him.

"The hottest thing," he mumbles against my skin.

"What is?" I ask, putting my arms around him, breathing in his scent. My eyes close in content.

"When you ask me to finish inside you," he replies gently, "S'like when you asked me to sign your shirt, over your tits."

I laugh, "You're so horny."

"You're so beautiful, I can't help it."

I turn warm all over as he pulls back to look at me, those dark eyes speaking words perhaps neither of us are ready to discuss. I ease up and off him, hurrying to the bathroom before I can make a mess. My mind wanders, unfortunately thinking back to when Diana Ross had visited the store.

Michael pads into the bathroom, and turns on the shower. "The footage looks good," he says so causally, as if we didn't just film ourselves having sex. If that got out... I'd be slaughtered. "You're a natural on camera,"

"No one can see that," I say and stand up, flushing the toilet.

"No one will baby, don't worry. I'll guard this with my life." He strips off, motions me forwards, like he wants me to join him. I do, and sigh happily as he brings me close, kisses me sweetly.

"I like it when you call me baby," I say dreamily, he smiles, runs his hands down over me, then grabs the soap. We're quiet for a few seconds, shower running filling the quiet, until for some stupid reason, I blurt: "Diana came to see me."

_______________________________________________

End Notes:

Hello again everyone!! Thanks for tuning it again ✨🌸 I have some conflicts set up for the next few parts, I’m about them mad dramatic so sit with me on them 😂 they’re gonna be entertaining!!

Anyway, this is the overall vibe/aesthetic I had for Lily just in case anyone was curious: ^^

Let me know what you thought— comments help keep me hyped for the next parts 🙂‍↕️🩷🩷 thanks for reading again! See you in part 8!

[obsessedfemale]

I loveee this series. So invested

[obsessedfemale]

Wedding Night Yearning

synopsis: Michael finds you tucked away on your wedding night.

tags: bad era!michael, female!reader

genre(s): romance, established relationship, yearning

cw: smoking

word count: 1.8k

disclaimer: this story is a work of fiction. every element of this work is used in a fictitious manner, including all names, characters, places, and events, and is not an accurate portrayal of real-life people, dead or alive. any resemblance to actual persons, dead or alive, is purely coincidental due to the author's creative writing.

Finally. Your eyes scan the room. No one was looking at you – your guests strewn about the dance floor, sweating, singing, or clumped together chatting and catching up. For the first time today, you knew you had a moment to sneak away to be completely alone. 

You knew your best friend Sarah had packed the essentials in case of a last minute freak-out, but you found her to confirm. 

“Sarah!” You grabbed her by the elbow and guided her towards the exit. 

“Did you happen to bring any…” You brought two fingers to your lips discretely. 

“Y’know?” You leaned in close. 

“Duh!” Sarah loved to indulge you in your bad habits. In college, the two of you were known for being fun, loud, and pushing the limits of “ladylike” behavior. Since then, you had kicked (most) of your bad habits and presented as a put together, proper young woman. Sarah loved seeing you break free from your adult persona and engage in the wild, girlish activities you had in college. 

The two of you walked swiftly to the Bride’s quarters, a private suite at the opposite end of the ornate Italian castle. Sarah riffled through her bag and found the little red and white box and a gold bic lighter. She handed you the box and you ripped it open and pulled just one little secret out. 

“You want company?” Sarah asked. 

“No, thank you, I think I just need a minute alone. To reset.” You looked at her with a grateful smile, she could see the social exhaustion all over your face. 

“Okay! I’ll be out there, come find me when you’re done!” As she pulled on the doorknob, you caught her attention once last time. 

“Sarah?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t tell anyone I’m back here” you slouched slightly and grit your teeth, whispering under your breath. 

“For all I know, I don’t know anything!” She slipped out the doorway and softly shut the door behind her.

You began to sneak towards the private balcony, slight guilt creeping in about what you were about to do. Michael hated when you smoked, said you were too pretty for it. He would say “It doesn’t suit you”. You had mostly kicked the habit when you began dating, but the occasional cigarette was sometimes too powerful to resist. On this particular night, your wedding night, you needed the relief, something to stop the jitters. 

The ceremony had gone perfectly, and it wasn’t the reception that made you a nervous mess, it was what came after. 

You climbed out onto the terrace, gathering your silky white gown in your left hand, your little friend & your lighter in your right. You leaned up against the concrete balcony as you lit the cig and took your first drag. It hit the back of your throat and swirled around in your head, almost making you dizzy. It was exquisite. You took in the view as you exhaled, and almost all thoughts left your brain entirely. The night was a perfect 72 degrees, with a slight breeze carrying your train and bits of your bangs along with it. Clear skies and hundreds of tiny, glimmering specs decorated the sky. You finally found the peace you needed so badly. 

Three drags in, and you hear the terrace door creak open. Your heart skipped a beat, knowing you were about to be caught red-handed, hoping it was anyone but Michael. 

“Hey missy”. His voice made your stomach drop and your body freeze. You had a split second to lean in, or abandon your fresh friend in an effort to not disappoint your new husband. You sighed, giving in, twisting just your head towards the door, chin resting on your shoulder. You kept your hands resting on the balcony, trying to hide what sat in between your first two fingers. 

“Hi.” Trying to keep your voice as soft and sweet as you can, hoping your sweetness distracts him from your scandalous behavior. 

“What’re you doing out here?” His brows furrowed, leaning over to see what you may have in front of you. 

“Just… needed some fresh air” 

Too late.

Michael clocked the white smoke floating up and over your blonde up-do, his expression turning from confusion to disappointment, letting out a sigh. 

“Y’know I don’t like you smoking.” He stood up straight and cocked his head back, still standing at the terrace door, now shut. 

“I know, I’m sorry. I just… needed something to… calm me down.” You had slowly begun twisting your body around, your back against the cool concrete, a slight smile creeping across your face. Michael began towards you, with a look on his face that said “you’re about to get a talking to.” He stood in front of you, your right hand still resting on the balcony, the glow of the Marlboro tip illuminating your hand. 

He looked you up and down, his gaze softening when his eyes met yours again. 

“Are you not having fun?” A slightly concerned, babying tone in his voice. 

“I am! Of course I am. I was just feeling… a bit… nervous.” Michael leaned in closer, towering over you now, you kept your eyes on his, the perfect angle to give him your best puppy-dog eyes. You bit your lip ever so slightly, as if asking for forgiveness with just the batting of your eyelashes. 

He learned in, holding himself up by planting his palms on the balcony, one on either side of you, arms straight, his eyeline meeting yours perfectly. 

“What’s there to be nervous about baby?” His voice soft, and so, so sweet. 

“Y’know..later..later tonight.” Your head dropped and eyes focused on his shoes. You brought the still lit cig to your lips and sucked hard. You looked up and to the right to not exhale directly into him. As the last bits of smoke left your lips, he brought his hand to your cheek, brushing his thumb from side to side. Your eyes locked again. Michael slowly slipped his first two fingers over yours and swiped your sweet, sweet relief from you. Your mind jumps to the next logical step, he’s about to drop it & stomp it. 

Instead, he pulls your cig to his lips, his eyes slightly squinting as his cheeks inverted. His lips pop as he pulls it away, inhaling even deeper, and shooting you a wink. The sight makes your knees buckle, and your own breath hitches. 

Michael famously was so not a smoker. He believed it would ruin his voice, and “was a bad look” for him. He wanted nothing to do with it. That being said, he had indulged before, but these were extenuating circumstances, he explained. He would tell me “he had no choice” with a cheeky smile running across his face. The first time, he was young, and with his brothers. He had been a bit overserved and was sucking the butt end of a menthol before he realized what was even happening. He said it was delicious, but never again. That is, until the stress of mixing Bad reached a fever pitch and his temptations got the best of him. He had swiped one of Bill’s from his jacket pocket, slipped out a side door, and practically made love to the cigarette in the studio parking lot. 

Your shock was all over your face, jaw ajar, you couldn’t take your eyes off of him. What you could never say out loud, was that he looked fucking sexy. 

His hand dropped from your face to your waist, pulling your hips in to meet his. Your hands wrapping loosely around his waist. 

“I’m a bit nervous too.” Hence the cigarette, you gather. He smiles shyly, Your eyes are locked, he leans in and presses his lips gently against yours. The smell of the cig on his breath and the taste of the sweet champagne on his lips consumes you, making your stomach flip and cheeks turn red hot. The wild college girl inside of you practically jumping up and out of your throat to capture every bit of “bad boy” energy Michael was giving you. It was intoxicating. A small, quiet moan vibrated out of your mouth. You wanted more, needed more. 

Michael pulled away slowly, his eyes now locked on your lips. 

“Those are too pretty for this.” He raised the cig and flicked it, like he had been a pack-a-day smoker for years. This man was so smooth, he made any and everything look easy, natural, sexy. That sight was all the relief you needed. You instantly felt calm, just the two of you on the terrace, now in silence. 

Michael’s right hand slipped behind you once again, this time at the small of your back, slipping down further than before. His left grabbed your cheek, thumb hooked around your chin. 

“Fuck. You look so pretty, baby.” He leaves no time for you to respond before he firmly plants his lips against yours. Your hips rock into one another and his tongue slips into you. You feel your pulse in your core, begging to be touched. Michael’s hand slips down your back, grabbing your ass and pulling you into him even harder. The thin barrier of your silk gown allowed you to feel the bulge attempting to escape his slacks. 

“I love you.” He softly exhales into your open mouth. 

Your eyes flutter open as your head falls back, exposing your neck. Your weakness, and absolutely toxic to him. He knew he had to stop when you threw your head back, otherwise you may never peel yourselves off each other. His jaw clenched as he pulled back, sucking air between his teeth in agony. You both had waited, not intentionally, but waited until you had found the perfect person. You both knew each was the perfect person, but the waiting had made it that much better.

The desperate way you both yearned to be touched and held, it made each kiss, every touch send a chill down the spine of the other. You had both become addicted to the small brushes you exchanged throughout the day, waiting for the perfect moment to taste one another in private like teenagers.

The reception would continue for hours, and you felt guilty for not entertaining your guests. You looked at Michael and saw the same guilt in his eyes, tainted by his desperate yearning to taste you. He bit his bottom lip, exhaling slowly, trying to compose himself. His bulge still pressed up against you, your heart still racing. Michael took a step back, turned towards the door, and held his hand out for you to latch onto. 

“We should get back. We’ll continue this later.” His smile wider than ever, knowing sweet relief is only a few hours away.

[minajetmoi-blog-blog]

[mr-styles]

x

[graphikh]

[xhannahxelle-deactivated2018082]